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#i guess it wouldn't be bad to be forced to take things slow
sanguineterrain · 7 months
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window pains | jason todd
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Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.
A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
the divider
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"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"
"You know who you're talking to, right?"
"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."
It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 
You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 
That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 
Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 
But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 
Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 
"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"
"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"
You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 
"How'd they get you?" you ask. 
It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.
You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?
The last one, you always know the answer to. 
"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 
He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 
Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 
"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 
"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"
"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."
That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 
You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 
"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."
"You can put them on yourself." 
His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 
Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 
"Can I crash here?" 
"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.
You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 
"What're you doing?" you ask. 
"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."
"I didn't say that, I said—"
"I can read between the lines." 
"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 
"What situation?"
You turn your head. "Nothing."
Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 
"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."
"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."
Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"
You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."
"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."
"Lie the fuck down, Todd."
His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."
Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 
Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 
Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 
"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."
He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 
"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 
You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 
"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 
He squints. "It's August."
"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 
"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 
You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 
"You're tired of me," he says. 
Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  
"You are."
"I'm not tired of you, Jay."
You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 
You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 
You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.
You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 
"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 
"I'd be tired of me." 
"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"
Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  
"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."
"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 
He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 
"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 
"I don't need 'em."
"You do. You need another on your forehead."
"It'll heal fine without it."
Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 
"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."
He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."
"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 
Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."
"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."
He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 
"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."
Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 
"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."
His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.
You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.
His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 
"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 
You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 
"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 
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the-modern-typewriter · 3 months
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Hello! I've been reading through your blog for the past few days and everything you write is so amazing. I was wondering if maybe you would consider writing something about an aro high schooler who gets asked out by this person they've convinced themselves that they like, but when they're actually asked about it, it just feels wrong? (Bonus points if they think kissing is gross because imo it is) - sincerely, an aroace teen writer who is very inspired by you
"River kissed you!?" Their best friend shrieked, with all of the excitement that the protagonist had expected to feel.
They managed a weak smile. Their stomach squirmed.
It was supposed to be great, wasn't it? A first kiss. People wrote novels about them. It was the epic climax of the episode. It was fireworks and a fluttering stomach, it was the whole world narrowing down to a single moment, it was heart pounding love.
It was gross.
"...was it bad?" their friend asked, catching their expression. Their face fell. A smashed plate of disappointment.
The protagonist swallowed. "It was...wet."
"I mean, it takes a bit of practice to get good at it. Even with the right person. Did they stick their tongue down your throat?"
"No. I don't think so? I mean - it was fine." It would be fine. It would definitely be fine. Maybe their first kiss hadn't exactly been what they were hoping for, but it would get better. Wouldn't it? Their throat suddenly felt horribly tight. They pressed their lips together to keep their voice from wobbling and took a breath. "You're probably right. I mean, I don't know if they've ever kissed anyone before either. Maybe I was really bad at it."
"No!"
"It's okay." At least, if they were bad at kissing, that was something they could improve upon. At least it wouldn't always feel so...
It wasn't like it was all some elaborate ruse the whole population was in on, anyway. That would be ridiculous!
It had been a nice night otherwise. The movie had been good, and their hands had touched over the popcorn, and they'd got into a great discussion about the plot after.
It would get better.
...it did not get better, though.
They started to find excuses not to kiss River; "Let's take it slow."
A kiss on the head or the cheek wasn't so bad, or like a one second peck on the mouth. It was all the other kisses.
When it didn't feel wrong, they felt nothing. They counted the awkward seconds for it to be over, then vowed to do much better next time when they caught a glimpse of the confused sort of hurt in River's eyes.
"I know you're shy," River said, one day, in a trying-to-be-casual voice. "But you like...never kiss me. It's always me kissing you. Did I..." Their voice dropped, agonised, "am I really bad at it or something?"
"No, no!"
"Oh, good."
"I just - I don't now." Their stomach squeezed. "I'm not sure I really like kissing," they confessed. "It's - I don't know." It felt rude to say ew.
"Oh," River said, in a tone of less good, but trying to be chill and non-judgy. "Okay."
"Sorry."
"It's okay." River took their hand, squeezed. "Kissing isn't everything, I guess. There are other things."
For a second, just a second, they were sure they'd never loved anyone more.
They liked River. Didn't they? They certainly thought they had. They had those cheekbones, and those pretty eyes, and they were always nice to everyone. They made the protagonist laugh, at least when there wasn't kissing involved.
It should have all been perfect.
They'd always wanted to fall in love.
In the end, they broke up after about three months.
The protagonist didn't ask what they'd done wrong, because it felt obvious, even if River wasn't cruel enough to say it. Maybe they should have ended it themselves, instead of forcing River to do it. Probably.
But what could they possibly say? It's not you, it's me. Nobody would believe that even if it was true. Oh, I know I said yes to dating you, but I'm just not that into you. That felt far too mean. It wasn't like River had done anything bad.
Their best friend held them while they cried, wracking things that choked up in their chest.
"What if I die alone?"
"Don't be stupid." Their best friend hugged them hard. "Of course you're not going to lie alone. River wasn't that great anyway! There's clearly something wrong with you if they don't want you."
The protagonist didn't quite dare say that wasn't exactly how it happened.
They kissed a few other people over the years, normally around the time when everyone else did. New Year, at the strike of twelve. If there wasn't any fireworks in the kiss, at least they were popping and fizzing outside and a new year was a new slate. They tried once after a few too many cocktails, with a friend, because maybe it would feel a little better when they were tipsy. With someone who definitely knew what they were doing.
It wasn't, though.
"You'll find the right person," their best friend said. "It's different when it's the right person, you know? Like me and Willow. I didn't think, but then..." They were happily in love; exuberant on it, nonstop on it.
The protagonist didn't want to resent it. They didn't want to be that person, spitting bitter like the villain in a fairytale.
"Romance novels are very exaggerated," their best friend said. "It's not always butterflies. It doesn't have to be butterflies to be real, you know? It's just someone you really want to spend time with."
But, the more the protagonist thought about it, the more they weren't sure that was quite true. There were plenty of people that they liked being around. It still didn't make them want to kiss them.
They weren't even sure they wanted to fall in love anymore. It wasn't like they spent most of their life miserable or anything. It was just...sometimes, when everyone else in the room had someone, or their parents asked them yet again if there was anyone they'd been seeing. Even in the height of drama, it all seemed so much easier for them.
They were twenty when they first came across the words.
Aromantic Asexual.
It was the second time they'd cried over the whole kissing thing.
That time it was relief.
"Oh my god," they left their best friend a message, vindicated. "It is an elaborate ruse!!! I'm going to bite something!!"
It got better, after that.
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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year
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LONGING FROM AFAR
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MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST
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SUMMARY: Minho x fem!Med-jack!reader. Kinda mutual pining. Takes place before Thomas arrives.
Minho has always been confident and cocky, that is until a girl shows up in the Glade, completely changing the dynamic. What makes it worse is that Minho recognises her, though he doesn't know where from. It doesn't help that he's having some less-than appropriate dreams. The last thing he needs is an injury out in the Maze, leading him to being treated by you. Little does he know, it's not just him experiencing everything.
CONTENT WARNING: language, suggestive content and spice, minimal use of (Y/N). Pretty long but bear with.
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Minho noticed a lot of things about you, even at the beginning.
When he got back to the Glade and heard about a girl coming up, he thought Newt was telling him a bad joke. But it was the truth. There you were.
Minho wasn't going to talk to you. He had no intention of distracting himself from his work. But the night you showed up, he was the same as everyone else. All eyes on you as you stared into the flames of the Bonfire
Newt had been put in charge of looking after you since Alby was sceptical about trusting the other Gladers just yet. He sat beside you on a log, offering you a drink and talking with little to no response.
You didn't seem scared. Or even uncomfortable. You just looked lost; like you were still processing what was going on. And the Maze and your life now was something you never really wrapped your head around.
Minho could tell you didn't see the boys as a threat. It wasn't that they wouldn't try anything, it was that you seemed confident in dealing with it.
Your baggy jacket had the hood pulled up, your hair falling around your face and the fabric being used as a shield. Something that would become somewhat of a trademark of your look.
But the thing that stuck out was he knew you. He couldn't point out where or how, but he did. He figured he'd known you before the Maze. It wasn't uncommon for Gladers to say they recognise people, like when you know someone's face but can't figure out where from.
But this was different. He knew you, like actually knew you. He hadn't spoken a word to you, yet he could make some pretty accurate guesses about you. All of which ended up not being that far off.
Even as time passed, whenever you were there, Minho's gaze always fell on you. You didn't say much to anyone, really. You were often found with Newt, who seemed to be your favourite Glader.
You would eat and spend free time with Newt, and he would guard you whilst showering. It was also obvious to Minho that Newt enjoyed spending time with you as well. He seemed brighter and spoke about you a lot; something that Minho didn't complain about.
But it did make him feel weird.
When you became a Med-jack, there was a string of "injured" Gladers who were very disappointed when they ended up getting treated by one of the boys. The medical hut had never been so busy.
Once the new Greenie came up after a month, Minho realised he was jealous. You were nurturing yet forward and the Greenie clung to you like there was no tomorrow.
I know her. She's mine.
The thought shocked him. He wasn't like that; at least he didn't think he was like that. He had no right to be like that, you guys had never even spoken.
That was when the dreams started.
Heated breath against his neck. His fingers bruising your waist. Unholy noises that filled his hut. Feelings he had never experienced before.
The dreams would vary. Some were loving and filled with sweet nothings and slow, caring intimacy. Others were rough; more forceful. Full of passion and greediness as need would consume him whole.
He'd always wake up the same, though. Flustered and frustrated and having to get up to work before he could deal with himself. It was definitely starting to cause a problem in rising sexual frustration.
He didn't really get it before. The other Gladers were always complaining about how horny they were and the straight dudes always pining for a girl to show up. Typical teenage hormones. But Minho had always been too preoccupied to even think about it. His goal was freedom and survival. And now a girl he had never even spoken to was making him go feral.
"Dude, are you good?" Ben had been watching Minho for a while as he leaned over the table in the middle of the Map Room. They were meant to be comparing routes and examining them before they headed out into the Maze for the day.
Minho had been staring at the same piece of paper for about fifteen minutes. Clearly, none of it sinking in.
"Minho?"
"Hm?" The boy looked up, meeting the concerned gaze of his friend. Minho had never been like this. He was always on the ball, noticing things that Ben wouldn't have ever even paid attention to. Yet, he was totally spaced out.
"Are you good?"
"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're acting shucking weird, bro. The shuck's goin' on?" Minho wasn't about to admit that the reason his abilities were slipping was because he was being haunted by his wet dream from the previous night.
"Nothin', alright? I'm good."
This went on for weeks. Newt picked up on the change and he was the first to figure out why. He told Minho to talk to you but at this point, Minho couldn't bring himself to. What would he even say? How would he even interact with you like a normal human being after he'd had you in every position in his head?
Newt found it hilarious when a conversation about the complete lack of female anatomy knowledge started at Bonfire night. It was one of the few conversations the both of you had been involved in, even if you still weren't directly speaking.
Being a biology expert and a vagina owner, it quickly turned into a lecture that the boys were surprisingly respectful of. They seemed eager to learn and you weren't ashamed about talking about it, since sex education was just another health topic. Though Minho didn't know how to act when he found out you were on birth control.
Minho's red face and avoidance of eye contact with, well, anyone just egged Newt on more. He asked at least once a day if he'd gained the courage to talk to you yet.
He had not.
He started actually liking going out into the Maze. The Maze was when he got to be alone. The breeze blowing through his hair, his mind occupied with keeping track of his path and an ironic sense of freedom. And he was a safe distance from his nagging friend.
That was until he turned a corner and nearly ran face first into a Griever. Grinding to a halt, the slimy, grotesque creature turned to face him. Without hesitation, Minho took off, turning around and sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
The Griever easily gained ground on him, swiping and slashing from mere metres away. In his escape, he tripped, his feet catching over themselves and he fell to the floor, twisting his ankle.
The Griever wasn't able to stop in time, practically diving over him and rolling to a stop once it realised its mistake. One of it's mechanical arms slicing his back and he hissed in pain, praying that he wasn't stung. He didn't have time to process what had just happened as he scrambled to his feet.
Grievers were scary but dumb. This was common knowledge amongst the Runners. The fleshy monstrosity was yet to turn around as it seemed to be trying to process what had happened itself.
Fighting through the pain, Minho sprinted away in the direction he'd just fled from.
His leg was in agony, his back bleeding but he didn't stop. Running as fast as he possibly could towards the safety of the Glade.
After a couple of swift turns and a lot of painful footsteps, he dared look back. The Griever was gone. He was safe.
"Shuck this," he mumbled to himself. He had plenty of time and was meant to be running his route, but there was no way he could even begin to think about daring to do that in this condition.
Minho started making his way back to the Glade. The desperate urge to stop and sit down and rest was intoxicating. But he wouldn't get up again, and he knew it.
He didn't even realise his face was bleeding until he entered the corridor leading to the Glade and the crimson liquid dripped off, hitting the stone floor. He must've cut it on a rock on the floor or something.
Entering the Glade, it didn't take long for him to be noticed.
"Minho!" Alby's sharp voice cut through the serene farm setting. "The shuck are you doing back?"
Alby jogged towards him, his face shifting from irritation to concern once he noticed the Runner's injured state.
"Shit," the Leader grumbled, "Newt! Get the Med-jacks!" He shouted in the blond's direction.
"Minho," he approached the boy, "Hey, Minho," Ably grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his back, only for Minho to jolt away in pain. "Shuck it, what happened?"
"Griever," Minho grunted.
"Did you get stung?"
"Do I look like I've been stung?"
"Alby!" Jeff shouted as he approached. "What's going on?"
"Minho got attacked by a Griever, he needs checking. Now."
Newt, Clint and Jeff scrambled to help the injured boy, all three of them in a state of panic. It was rare for Minho to get hurt. It was even rarer for him to get this hurt.
They half-dragged Minho towards the Med-jack hut as the boy tried his best to keep himself going. In the midst of the chaos, Minho had completely forgot that you are, in fact, a Med-jack.
"Holy shit," you gasped and Minho's head snapped towards you. "Newt, what the shuck happened?"
"I-I don't know," the blond spluttered out, "he said he got attacked by a Griever."
"Shit, sit him down," the boys do what you tell them, walking him over to the bed and struggling to place the Runner safely. "Minho," your voice is soft and Minho knows that if he wasn't in agony he wouldn't know what to do. "Do you know if you've been stung? How are you feeling?"
"Like a klunk in a t-shirt," he attempted to joke, "no, I'm not stung, just cut up."
You examined him, taking his face between your fingers, taking in he features and the cut across his cheek. He moved his arm slightly and you caught a glimpse of the blood slowly soaking through his shirt. Walking around, your eyes widened.
"Take his shirt off," you directed your coworkers. "Now, c'mon."
"What?" The thought of being shirtless in front of you somehow freaked him out more than his recent brush with a Griever.
"Your back is bleeding badly," you stated, "and I have to check you for any other injuries."
You moved out of the way to let the boys help Minho undress, leaving him embarrassed and exposed. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about. Minho looked like he had been carved out of stone. He spent all day every day exercising, so it wasn't much of a shock, but you still had to remind yourself not to get distracted.
The main focus was sorting out Minho's back and to check for spinal damage. Luckily, it was just a minor cut that was bleeding a hell of a lot.
Minho seemed to be incredibly jumpy. Every time you touched him, he flinched away. You used glue strips to pull the skin back together and wrapped the bandages around his middle. With Minho becoming visibly tense when you pressed your hand against his abs from behind to stabilise the fabric, you assumed that he didn't like physical contact. So, you became cautious to touch him as little as possible to try not to make him uncomfortable.
That was easier said than done when it came to addressing his facial injuries. It didn't look that bad; a surprisingly clean cut.
You stood in between Minho's legs, his face once again between your fingers as you delicately tried to pull the sides of the wound back together. Clint and Jeff were busy making sure Minho's back was appropriately covered and preparing more supplies for you accordingly and Newt was just watching.
Unbeknownst to Minho, you'd actually been sharing the same far away glances. You'd drunkenly confessed to Newt during a game of truths that Minho was the only Glader you were actually attracted to and it felt like you knew him. But with him always being out in the Maze and you always being busy with work, you felt like your paths weren't really meant to cross. You lived in the same place, but it was painfully obvious Minho didn't want to interact with you.
What you failed to tell Newt was that you felt a strong connection with the boy that was basically a stranger. He was unbelievably familiar to you, something you failed to explain even to yourself.
Newt was getting frustrated himself with the stubborn awkwardness you both possessed, but all it did was further prove you'd be a good match. He'd decided to stay and observe because Minho was his friend, but it was also because this was the first time either of you had actually interacted.
You were oblivious to it all at the moment. The panic of Minho being injured caused your anxiety about talking to him to vanish and be replaced with focus on your work. You were also oblivious to Minho's lingering hands as he fought to urge to put them on you waist and the puppy-dog look he couldn't seem to stop.
He'd never been this close to you. The closest being your sex ed lesson. He took the opportunity to watch you. Your face was stoic and firm as you concentrated on placing glue strips in a way that wouldn't be uncomfortable. He couldn't help but find the way your brow furrowed and the way strands of hair escaped your poorly tied up hairstyle cute.
God, you were so close. Too close. Close enough for all of Minho's dreams to start filling his head. He tried desperately to stay calm and distract himself but it wasn't working. You were being so gentle and attentive.
"How does that feel?" You asked absentmindedly, something you did to all your patients. It was such an innocent question that is made Minho even more flustered due to the context he'd previously heard it in his own head. "Minho?"
"It's uh, it's fine- it feels good. Well, not good, it feels klunky- but not like bad, like you've done a good job it just hurts. It.. it feels okay," you raised your eyebrow slightly, a small smirk playing on your lips. Minho inwardly cringed but you were entertained.
From what everyone had told you, Minho was smart and smooth, often overly confident and quick with his wit and even quicker with his actions. Maybe it was the injuries, but the Keeper of the Runners was currently a stuttering mess in front of you.
"Does anything else hurt?" You didn't falter at Minho's response. You're a professional, after all.
"Uh, yeah, I think I rolled my ankle."
"Which one?" He tapped his left leg and you nodded. "Can you take your shoe off?" He winced as he attempted to do so only for you to gesture him to stop.
You lowered yourself to the floor, kneeling in front of him as you untied the laces of his running shoes, trying to be as gentle as possible removing it.
Minho thought his brain might actually melt. You were on your knees in front of him, nursing to his injuries.
He made eye contact with Newt as you rolled his trouser leg up, examining the potential damage. Newt was grinning like an idiot. He had never seen Minho like this. Clint and Jeff were oblivious to whatever was going on and Newt felt like he was in on a well-kept secret. All Minho could do was glare at his friend.
"It looks sprained," you mainly said it to yourself but it quickly dawned on Minho what that meant.
"What about running?"
You looked up at him, pressing your lips into a thing line. "Sorry, buddy, you're gonna be out of commission for while." You rose again, hands in your pockets as you looked down at him. "You've got off pretty lucky all things considered. The cuts aren't deep, they just look bad and your ankle just has a nasty sprain. It should be better in a week or so, but that's only if you rest and stay off it."
"You gotta be shucking kidding me." You scoffed at Minho's dismayed.
"Don't worry too much - I'll give you some regular check-ups and keep an eye on it. You'll be back in the Maze in no time; I'll make sure of that." You playfully winked at him in an attempt to ease his nerves, which seemed to work.
You turned to Newt, "You gonna break the news to Alby or should I?"
"The shank should be happy Minho here is still bloody kickin'," Newt stood up straight, stretching slightly. "I'll go let him know."
You left Minho sitting there as you started talking to Clint and Jeff, telling both of them to go on break since both boys were suddenly very pale and slightly shaken up. You figured losing Minho would have been a massive hit to the Glade and for a second there, it felt very life or death.
"What am I meant to do now?" Minho asked as Clint and Jeff left.
You shrugged. "Whatever you want, man." You walked back over, returning to your position standing in front of him. "You've got a week off, enjoy yourself - well, not too much but you get what I mean."
Unlike Minho, you were having a surprisingly easy time talking to him. Almost natural.
"If you're bored, you can always chill here. It's not like serious injuries are common. You guys are pretty good at your job, so we mainly just deal with Slicer incidents." You were trying to be subtle about it but you were hoping that Minho would take the casual hint to spend some time with you.
You suddenly remember something, walking over to a cupboard, you pick up a makeshift crutch that was leaning against the wood, curtesy of Gally. "Here."
You handed him the crutch and he clearly didn't want to take it and admit defeat, but he did.
"Thanks," the conversation and interaction had reached it's natural end, but despite Minho's determined avoidance, he found himself not wanting to leave. "Can I, uh, can I stay here?"
You grinned at him, "'Course you can. I just said you could, didn't I?"
And that was it.
You and Minho were officially friends. Kind of.
It took a while, but Minho spent most of his week off talking to you and you both fell into a routine. He liked watching you work. You could effortlessly multitask, patching up people's injuries and maintaining a conversation with him.
Newt was also a welcomed addition during your free time. Well, to you at least. Minho wasn't exactly a fan of watching the pair of you talk and mess around. Your relationship with Newt seemed natural and friendly, something you and Minho were yet to have. Or he doubted ever would ever have. He also started to notice some flirting.
He hated it.
Minho had never been a possessive person, but watching you flirt with his best-friend was invoking even more complicated feelings in him.
It was a joke. Minho didn't know it was, but it was. You and Newt flirted all the time - because it was funny. Newt wasn't attracted to you at all. He had made that abundantly clear but that also meant you trusted him because it meant he wasn't going to try anything. And it was funny watching his disappointment when he didn't think the new Greenies were attractive.
Minho was unaware that it was a joke, though. So, by the time it came for him to go back into the Maze, he was reluctant.
Mainly because he was scared of running into another Griever, but also because he couldn't keep an eye on you. He hadn't exactly been keeping an eye on you before but seeing yours and Newt's dynamic up close wasn't pleasant.
Though, the Maze was a break. An actual break this time and a much needed one.
He'd often spend dinner time sitting with you and Newt, but for the rest of it, Minho would make himself scarce. Even when he was in the Glade.
It didn't help that the dreams were getting worse and it didn't take a genius to see that the tension between the both of you was thick. Exchanging glances, standing near each other when you were both involved in a group interaction, Minho's constant watchful gaze. It wasn't just Newt noticing it anymore.
"Dude, will you quit staring? You're freakin' me out." Alby leant against a post as Minho sat on a log, once again observing from a safe distance. Newt had informed him of Minho's growing crush and Alby had decided to keep an eye on things. He knew that Minho would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, but he still liked to make sure things were running smoothly for you. After all, being the only girl wasn't easy.
"I'm not staring," was Minho's response, even though he didn't bother stopping his glare.
"I thought you two were friends now?"
"She'd rather be friends with Newt."
The comment struck Alby as he looked at his long-time friend. Bonfire nights had become like clockwork to the veterans of the Glade, so neither boy really joined in on the festivities.
"Minho, are you jealous?"
The silence was loud and more than enough of an answer for Alby. Minho dropped his head, some kind of shame washing over him.
"Shuck me," the Leader barked a laugh, a rare occurrence, "you actually really like her, huh?"
"Slim it, man," Minho grumbled.
"Well, you better act on it, shank, you've got some competition," Minho figured Alby was referring to Newt, but when he looked up and saw Gally's arm draped around your shoulders, he felt a pit form in his stomach.
You made no effort to push Gally away, he was drunk and definitely not a threat. You weren't even talking to him; you were talking to Newt, who kept giving you gesturing looks, silently asking if you wanted him to deal with Gally. The Builder had originally done it as a flirty gesture but had seemingly forgot that he'd even done it in the first place.
For Minho, however, it was the straw that broke the camels back. Newt? Sure, whatever. He could get it - he liked Newt as much as anyone would, he was his best-friend after all. But Gally? Seriously?
He was on his feet before he'd even processed what he was doing himself, marching over to you. Gally said something, gaining your attention, which is why it startled you when Minho grabbed your wrist. You turned, prepared to rip your hand away only to soften when you realised who it was.
"Hey, can I talk to you?"
You blinked at him. Minho was hard to read and his ever-changing personality and treatment of you had you lost most days. You glanced at Newt, who seemed equally stunned at Minho's sudden confidence.
"Yeah, course, what's up?" He simply nodded in a different direction, gesturing for you to both leave to have a private conversation. You pushed Gally's arm away from you, thoughtlessly following Minho as he dragged you away.
He let go once you'd left the buzzing crowd of the Bonfire and you silently followed him to the edge of the Deadheads. He stopped near one of the closest trees and turned to face you.
"Is everything... okay?" You felt nervous, fiddling with the hem of your jacket, something Minho noticed.
"Uh, yeah," he took a deep breath, collecting himself. He didn't know what he was doing but, low and behold, he was doing it.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Right, yeah," he cleared his throat, "okay, this is gonna sound shuckin' weird but I've just gotta say it, okay?"
"Okay." You tried to stay calm, but you could feel the bubble of stress starting to form. Did he know? Had Newt spilled the beans? Was he about to reject your silent desires?
"So, I, uh, I think I know you," you once again blinked at him and he shuffled awkwardly, "I don't know how to describe it - I just do. Ever since you first came up in the Box, I just- I just wanted to be around you."
"I thought you were avoiding me?"
"Well I was, kinda, I didn't want to get distracted from running- and then there was the dreams and I didn't know how I'd even talk to you and-" Minho had started rambling pretty quick. All his stress from the past few months starting to pour out.
"Dreams?" Minho froze. How exactly was he going to explain that bit? Why the shuck did he mention it to begin with?
"Uh, yeah, I don't wanna- I mean I didn't mean to- you're just so- shuck!" He exclaimed, his face growing redder by the second, "I'm bad at this. I don't know why I brought that up."
"I'm not gonna judge you, dude," you reassured him. "I understand brain klunk and it's weird. Dreams are normal."
"Yeah, but not these ones," he sighed, pausing to gain some courage, "I've been having these dreams, about us, uh... doing.. things."
"Huh?" You tilted your head. Then it clicked, and it was now your turn to get flustered. "Oh! Oh. Oh, right."
"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. "I don't know what it is, but I like you. Like, I really like you. And I know that's weird because we've only been friends for a couple of weeks but I can't help it. I don't want to think of these things but I can't help it and it's starting to cause a problem." He finally looked at you for a second. His rambling caused him to repeat himself as he stopped thinking about what he was saying before he said it.
Your expression was blank as you tried to process everything he was saying. He seemed genuine, and genuinely embarrassed about the whole thing.
"Sorry," his eyes fell to the floor, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable and you can shut me down and we can just be friends- I don't care about that as long as we're fine. But watching Gally hang off you, and the new Greenies look at you. And the way you and Newt flirt all the time- it just, shit, it just makes me mad, dude. I can't take it, watching everyone want you when I want you too. I mean-"
"Minho-"
"It's driving me mad. Everything you do is stuck in my head-"
"Minho-" you stepped forward, though he's too in his own head to even notice.
"I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. And Alby was saying all this klunk and-"
You cut him off. Lifting his chin to look at you, you pressed your lips to his. He froze, completely. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
"Shut up, Slinthead," you mumbled, pulling away slightly, basically saying it into his mouth, "I know you too. I want you too."
That was enough for Minho. He pushed his lips against yours. It was sudden and bold as he pushed against you. Your bodies moulded together as your arms went around the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the short hairs at the base of his head. His hands went to your waist under your jacket, pulling you impossibly closer.
The kiss quickly becomes passionate and heated, his fingers brushing against your skin under your shirt, padding against your flesh. You hummed in response, just pushing him further as he span you around. Backing you up against a tree, your back hit the bark, earning a squeak.
He broke the kiss and the way he looked at you made your knees weak. He gaze was full of a mix of lust and want, but also was loving and cautious. He didn't want to over step, but he was desperate. The frustrations were finally coming to the surface and he knew he had to stop himself.
"I can't..." He panted, "I can't do this anymore. I need you."
He was making you weak. It wasn't like you'd never been aroused before but this was different. You couldn't even form words as you connected back to him. A guttural, deep noise escaped his throat.
Things were moving fast as your hands left his neck, dipping lower and and under his shirt. Feeling his skin and his solid mid-drift. You grazed your nails against his skin and his teeth lightly brushed your bottom lip.
This wasn't the plan. But at the rate things were moving, you didn't want to stop it either.
"Holy shuck!" Newt exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hand over his eyes, scared to witness anything else unsightly.
You and Minho stopped, snapping to look at your embarrassed friend. Minho stepped back, awkwardly crossing his hands over his crotch as you tried to catch your breath.
Newt awkwardly peaked through his fingers before sighing from relief and lowering his hand.
"Uh, the Runners wanna talk to you about Maps or some klunk - Alby wants an update on how it's going."
Minho cleared his throat, "Right, yeah. I'll uh- yeah." He looked at you, "I'll uh, I'll catch you later, right?"
"Mhm."
"Cool." He brushed past Newt, not daring to make eye-contact, knowing he'd hear all about it later anyway.
Newt looked at you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
"You finally spoke to him then?"
"Shut your shucking mouth, Slinthead."
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Woah, Petri actually writing a piece of fanfiction? Mad. Anyway, here is my first actual writing piece on here and I know the TMR fandom is kinda dead, but I love Minho with my whole heart and he's probably one of my favourite all time characters, so I figured this would be a good place to start.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think. :))
899 notes · View notes
lawrites · 3 months
Text
Rubens Can Suck It!!
Sweet Gotham S1! Edward Nygma x Plus Size! Female Reader
You are having an awful day when someone leaves a note on your desk, describing your figure. It sets you off, and Ed is the one who seeks to comfort you.
This fic features a LOT of insecurities, specifically around being plus size. It talks about the feeling of being seen by others and how shitty some officers at the GCPD are. But Ed is sweet. No warnings beyond that EXCEPT some dirty thoughts from Ed 👀.
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It's been an awful morning and it's only 8 AM.
As a woman who works in a field primarily made up of men, especially a plus size woman, you have made your confidence into your armor. Yeah some of the officers could be pigs, (most of them, actually), but you do love your body and how it looks, so it doesn't bother you.
You enjoy wearing bold colors, pretty dresses, structured pant suits, and even pencil skirts to work most days. They make you feel infallible, and you KNOW you look cute in them. No matter what those tiny men say, you can get through the day feeling good.
And usually...it works. There are some days that you think everyone struggles with their looks, no matter their size. It's what happens when your society is constantly screaming "YOU CAN BE BETTER BUY THIS PRODUCT" at you from all angles.
And so, while you are beating yourself up for letting your confidence slip, you decide to go ahead and make yourself more comfortable while you get it back. Especially because trying to force it wasn't working.
Every glance in the mirror was followed by a critical voice, today. Your hair just didn't sit right, your chosen outfit was too tight and the textures were bothering you, and the high heels you sometimes wear would clack and bring eyes to you. All of that sounded just...exhausting, especially when you just want to get through the day and go home without drawing any attention to yourself.
While usually a pair of eyes on you wouldn't bother you, the thought of Harvey Bullock only staring at your tits when he talks to you, or Jim glancing up and down in what he thinks is a subtle way, or any of the officers giggling when you walk by...yeah it would take only one thing to set you off today, you can tell.
So, while it isn't the most flattering outfit you own, you throw your hair into a ponytail and pull an oversized sweater and linen pants on. Comfy, cozy, still professional enough, and properly disguising your body from any eyes, appreciative or insulting.
After that rollercoaster of emotions while you were getting ready, you don't have time to stop for coffee on your way in, which just adds to your mood. And, of fucking course, some guy decided to begin terrorizing Gotham at 7 in the fucking morning, so all public transport is delayed.
You barely manage to get to your desk by 8 AM with no coffee and already in a bad mood. Setting your stuff down, you dig your palms into your eyes, trying to fight off the urge to just leave. A small slip of paper in neat handwriting makes you smile just a bit, though.
What is always found on the ground
But never gets dirty?
You struggle for a second, your brain moving at a slow pace thanks to the lack of coffee. That is, until you hear footsteps and something blocks the lights streaming in from the windows. You gasp and turn towards Edward Nygma, who is standing right next to you and casting a...
"Shadow!" You blurt out.
He gives you one of his sweet, tight-lipped smiles and nods. "Correct!"
You force a cheery tone to your voice so you don't spoil his mood. Ed may be a bit...odd, but he is one of your best friends here, and he doesn't deserve to be brought down just because you aren't in a good mood. "Great! How many is that so far, Eddie?"
He immediately recites, "That would be 85 riddles correctly guessed out of 90 I have shared with you. 3 you needed a hint for and 2 you did not solve entirely."
You cross your arms in mock anger. "Hey! I did my best! Those ones were hard. It's almost like you wanted me to fail or something."
He hurriedly scrambles to get the next sentence out, "Oh! Oh I would n-never! I j-just..."
Whoops, guess your bad mood made that "mock" anger sound more like actual anger. You take on a placating tone, "Ed, it's ok! I know you just enjoy riddles. And sometimes that big brain of yours makes up a new one that stumps me."
You laugh, maybe a bit bitterly, now, as your bad mood forces itself to the front again. The next sentence is nearly mumbled, "I mean, it must be difficult, sometimes, making puzzles for someone who isn't as smart as you."
Ed seems confused more than anything, now. "I'm...I'm not sure what brought that on, but writing down riddles for you every morning is f-fun for me!"
You sigh, twirling a pen from your desk in your hand to avoid eye contact. "It's just...it's just one of those days, Ed. I couldn't find an outfit that made me look nice..."
Ed interrupts you with his insistence, but he still stumbles over his words, "B-but you always look n-nice!"
Your smile comes out as a grimace, "You're sweet, Ed, but everyone doesn't think so." You glance around to make sure that your next words aren't overheard. "I know that I can usually brush cruel insults away, because I try to tell myself I'm beautiful..." You choke out the last part of your sentence, cutting yourself off before you get too emotional in the middle of the office.
You get up and decide to leave the main lobby to get some of the shitty coffee from the break room. At least there you could better disguise the tears in your eyes. "It's really not a big deal, Ed. I guess I'm just not myself, today. Give it a day or two and I'll be more amusing."
And without waiting for a response, you hurry off.
He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure how to respond to the dismissal you just gave him. Usually the two of you would talk for at least 5 more minutes.
Wracking his brain as he walks away, he tries to think of something to cheer you up.
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Rubens
Flashes of his paintings fly through Ed's mind as he attempts to type out a sweet note to you. Every time he gets a glance of a plush thigh or your soft belly, he thinks of how he painted Venus, the Goddess of Beauty.
A voice he's been trying to avoid for a while now pipes up, Yeah, Goddess of only beauty? I'm sure that's all you're thinking about, Ed. How about Goddess of Se-
Ed cuts the voice off before it can finish that thought, but now he is unfortunately thinking about it, even at work. Rubens didn't paint all of his women clothed, especially Venus. Her nude form fuses with yours in Ed's mind, haunting him, taunting him.
There's just...so much he can play with. Your body...so much he can sink his long fingers into. He goes back to your belly, what he has ascertained to be the main source of your insecurity. He empathizes with that, but all he can think of whenever you wear something tight is bending you over in the medical lab on site and holding onto that plush belly as he-
Again, he cuts himself off. He would like to think that the other voice took over again there, but those thoughts were all him. He adjusts himself a bit as he sits at his desk, trying to be subtle.
Then he looks back at the screen in front of him, remembering your mood today, and that hits him like a bucket of cold water. He curses the tears in your eyes from old insecurities popping up again. He has seen you become more and more confident in your time at the GCPD, learning to ignore the pigs that giggle at everything that isn't "normal" to them.
Ed knows that feeling, and especially the taunts from those cops, well. He's off, to them. He never quite knows when to start or end a conversation, and he injects his interests even when he knows people are tired of them.
And that's why he likes (loves) you. You always smile and try with his riddles. You even continue to talk to him after, and are interested in who he is outside of work! That's rare. And if he could return that joy you have given him every day, it would be worth it for the possibility of you figuring out his true thoughts.
Unfortunately, while he has a mind for riddles, analytics, and all things mathematical, he has not been as blessed with poetry. So he wants to type this out...if nothing else than to keep you from feeling like you owe him something.
He types and deletes and types and deletes, looks at the clock, drums his fingers on the desk, and then types slowly this time. Reading it over, he nods at what he has written. It's not amazing, but he hopes it will make you feel like there are people in the office that are on your side, maybe even a secret admirer.
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And now you're soaking wet. You just wanted to escape your desk and get a simple sandwich and the sky decided that it was a perfect time to begin a deluge right before you got back to the GCPD building. Why? God hates you, apparently. There's no other explanation that would satisfy your overdramatic mind at this point in time.
Luckily you managed to keep your precious food dry by stuffing it under your coat, but the rest of you is definitely not so lucky. You huff and start towards your desk. Bullock sees you on the way, starts a sentence of some sort, (most likely to quip at your condition), but the glare you send his way shuts him up immediately.
You end up collapsing at your desk and peeling off your outer coat, feeling the air conditioning of the building start to combine with your wet clothes to make a chill seep into your bones. Trying to ignore it but unable to suppress a shiver, you place your food on your desk...wait...is that? It is! Someone left a little typed note to you under the bag.
You pick up the note, giving it a quick glance to see if there was anything to connect it to someone. There are no initials or name...hmmm.
Your eyes read over the words on the page once...twice. And your heart shatters. How could...why would...how could someone be so heartless that they would taunt you today of all days?
There is a group of those rude, awful officers that like to congregate together around the water cooler, gossiping and laughing at anyone who wasn't them. But right now, one of them is talking while looking directly at you, and when he stops he throws his head back in laughter, with the rest following.
Holding back a sob, you crumple the letter in your hand and get out of the room as fast as you can without running. As soon as you are out of their sight, tears start streaming down your face and you run to a nearby empty room. It doesn't even matter what it is, you just care that it's empty and safe and lock the door behind you, collapsing against a wall and trying to catch your breath as you gasp for air.
You hold that position for only about 30 seconds, trying to muffle your sobs so they couldn't be heard by anyone outside, but apparently you weren't quiet enough. A quiet knock sounds on the door.
Tap tap tap
You do your best to school your voice, but it still comes out shaky as you reply "Please find another room."
But the voice that filters through the door is one you recognize well.
"Y-you looked cold, so I brought you an emergency blanket. Oh! And a-also your lunch."
You let out a sob, unable to stifle it. "T-thank you, Ed." And you walk over to the door to unlock it, opening it just a tad so he can't see your state.
But Ed is observant, and even with what little you present to him, he can see you are massively upset. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you are trembling, whether from the cold or from your current emotions, that he can't tell. He tries his best to gather some courage.
"W-would you mind if I sat with you for l-lunch?" He holds up your bag of food and you notice that his own lunch is clasped in his hand behind it.
Quickly, you try to consider if you are ready to fully cry in front of Ed, but his kind, if nervous, smile and his own insistence on joining you made you certain that he wouldn't be too judgemental.
You turn your head to the side to try and hide it a bit more as you step back to open the door. Your arm sweeps over to gesture to where you were sitting. "Be my guest, Mr. Nygma."
This makes him let out a nervous chuckle, but he enters anyway. You close the door behind him and lock it.
"I hope you don't mind, I just don't want anyone to see me...well..."
He nods, "That is perfectly understandable."
You both stand awkwardly for a few moments, but you eventually feel the floor calling to you again, so you nestle against the wall where you previously had collapsed. Ed slowly settles down at a respectable distance from you, his gangly limbs shuffling until he finds a comfortable position.
When he hands you your bag of food, he decides it's better to talk about what happened than sit in silence. "M-may I ask why you are upset?" You glance at him, and your eyes start to fill with tears again. He hurriedly starts to stutter through another sentence, "Oh! B-but if you p-prefer not to talk about it, t-that's ok!"
You shake your head, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I guess people like to take advantage of you when you're down sometimes, Ed."
You sigh, but begin feeling more angry than sad. "I mean, I've been in a bad mood all day, I got rained on when I was just trying to get some food, and then some asshole leaves me this."
You open your hand to reveal the crumpled note to Ed. He keeps his face as neutral as he can, recognizing it. Oh no, you fucked up, Ed! The voice in his head gleefully taunts.
Your sniffle brings him back, and you look down at the note, spreading it out so you can read it out loud.
"While you are not seen by others as a beauty
I cannot keep myself from glancing at your desk.
Your figure is full, and yet one word sticks truly,
I can only describe you as such: Rubenesque."
Ed ponders over the poem, while a bit rudimentary, it was full of his true compliments to you. But your face crumples when you get to the last word, stuttering it out.
Your eyes look to him, "I mean, Ed! How could someone write this?"
You see his face scrunch in confusion. "I admit, I do not quite understand. I see nothing wrong with the note?"
Feeling frustration well inside of you, you gesture with your hands wildly. "Nothing wrong? It's that word, Rubenesque!! It's an insult, I know it, especially with how those assholes were glancing at me as I read it, laughing once I was done."
Ed seems to be more confused now. "I was not aware it was an insult?"
You nod, and remember all of the times you have heard it in the past, "It's always been used by people who want to try and appear to be kind, but truly aren't. They call me Rubenesque in this snide tone, like it's something they can barely stand to spit out of their mouths."
Ed tries to interrupt, but you continue, softer now. "I just don't know Ed. The whole note seems to be mocking me...calling me full figured and not a beauty. Am I really that bad?" He shakes his head while you feel tears starting again, so you look down at the floor.
Now at a whisper, you barely get out the next words. "I just...I don't even want someone to like me anymore. I just want them to leave me alone." With that vulnerable confession, you sob, and bring your hands to your face, trying desperately to cover it. A shiver runs through you again.
After a few beats, you feel warmth around you, and you glance up to see that Ed has moved closer to cover you with the blanket he brought. His long arms stay in place in a hug after he positions it, keeping you close to him. You are a bit taken aback, as the most that Ed has touched anyone in the past was maybe a handshake.
He leans down so you can hear him, his voice more sure, now, even if it is soft. "Do you know about the painter, Rubens?"
You shake your head. "Is that where the term comes from?" He nods. Not feeling charitable, you grab the blanket and bring it closer around you as you grumble out, "Rubens can suck it."
He lets out a giggle at that, and you feel your heart warm at the noise. "I understand that you feel it is an insult...would you mind if I explain what it really means?"
You nod, because even if it is as bad as you make it out to be, at least you can hear his voice as he explains it.
One of his hands strokes the blanket surrounding you, right on top of your arm. "Rubens painted many different subjects, but the descriptor of Rubenesque usually refers to his nude paintings of women. Specifically, women like Venus."
You lift up your head to look at him. "Venus as in the Goddess of Beauty?"
He nods, gently. "Yes, among...other things." His eyes darken for just a moment before returning to his informative rant. "The women he paints are known to be full-figured, yes, but they are beautiful because of that, in my opinion."
You sit as still as you can, barely breathing, wanting to hear every word he says. A long finger comes under your chin and guides your face until you are looking right at him. "I wrote you that note. I think you are the definition of beauty."
And with that, he brings you gently forward, looking in your eyes the whole time. You let him, and lean forward to meet his lips. The kiss you share is sweet and short, but it fills you with a giddiness that makes you feel like a teen experiencing her first kiss again.
You separate smiling at each other, and Ed reaches up to kiss your forehead. "I apologize for upsetting you. I was trying to be a secret admirer."
You chuckle, "Yeah, well, it didn't help that I read the note as uncharitably as I could." You glance up at him, "I'm sorry for crumpling it up in anger."
He shakes his head. "D-don't apologize. I'll write you as m-many bad poems as you want." One of his long arms slowly moves down, and a finger traces your hip over the blanket. "Is this ok?"
You feel a warmth spark through you again as he makes contact, and all you trust yourself to do is nod. He nuzzles into your neck, whispering in your ear.
"I want you to know, right now, so there is no doubt, I love your body. These hips, your plush belly...even your soft arms." You feel his warm breath on your ear, and it makes you shudder. "They all remind me of art, and they make me want to..."
He trails off, and brings his hand away from your hip quickly, as if burned. You miss his touch, already, and confusedly ask, "What? Ed?"
You can't tell anything from his neutral face, but he gets up, suddenly, grabbing your lunches together again. "Let's find a better place for lunch, more comfortable...maybe with a table."
You nod, standing up with him. As you position the blanket around you, Ed wraps an arm around your waist.
"A-and...if you would like...have dinner with me tonight. I'll cook for you and...tell you more of my thoughts."
Your cheeks heat up, and his do as well. "Ed, I..." You think for a moment. "I'd love to have dinner with you."
He grins at you, again-one of his sappy, closed mouth grins-and leads you out of the room in his embrace. The two of you chat and giggle, seeking out a proper place for lunch and ignoring all of the stares you get. If you have each other, the rest of the world doesn't matter.
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124 notes · View notes
our-destiny · 1 year
Text
Happy Birthday
It's Bucky's birthday, and he knows exactly what present he wants.
Content / Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, bondage, reference to past stalking, forced blowjob, male masturbation, facial, threat of violence, he calls reader "darling", readers gender is not mentioned, if I missed any please let me know
I suck at summaries and I hate this, but I wanted to write something for his birthday so here it is.
I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI
Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist
Word Count: 1231
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The only thing you could see was darkness, a piece of fabric tied over your eyes obscuring your vision. Your entire body felt heavy, head pounding, but despite how terrible your body felt you could tell you were laying down on something soft and comfortable, what feels like a pillow resting beneath your head. Your wrists were tied together, hands resting on your stomach, and after trying to move your legs you found out your ankles were tied together too, by the same smooth fabric that's tied over your eyes. You were still fully clothed which gave you some sense of comfort. Using what little strength you had you wiggled around, trying to get some sense on what was happening. Your movement alerted your captor, the silence of the room suddenly filled with a voice.
"You're awake. Good." It was a man. You could hear the smirk on his face when he said the last word, he almost sounded... excited? Amused? Either way you froze, waiting for him to do something else. Slow footsteps filled the room as he made his way over to you, panic seeped through your veins as you started moving around again.
"I was beginning to think I hit you too hard, I wouldn't put it past me." The way he talked was calculated, he was in control and knew it. "Now, stop moving around darling, I'm not gonna hurt you too bad." The mysterious voice was getting closer, the subtle promise of what was gonna happen made you shiver, fear making it hard to breathe properly. The footsteps stopped at your right, you could only imagine what he looked like standing above you, you tied up on his bed, or at least you guess it's his bed, completely at his mercy.
"You look good like this," his voice sounded deeper than before, as his fingers trailed a path from your right cheek down your body, his touch ghosting gently over your skin as if afraid to apply too much pressure, stopping at the restraints on your ankles. He started rubbing the fabric between his fingers as he spoke again, "I waited so long, watching you, waiting for the right moment to take you." You got more scared by the minute, every breathe feeding the panic bubbling inside you, fighting the urge to scream, the idea that this man has been stalking you, watching you while you weren't aware only adding to the terror. "And I decided tonight was perfect. Tonight on this special occasion I'd finally let myself have you. I deserve it after all. Do you know what today is?" You weren't sure if he wanted an answer, but you shook your head anyway. March 10th. Nothing special was happening today, at least not to your knowledge. At that he gave a slight chuckle, "Of course you don't know, you don't even know who I am. Well, might as well introduce myself." He lifted up your blindfold before taking it all the way off. The dim lighting hurt your eyes for a second, and you barely registered the burgundy walls before you focused on the man who had kidnapped you. Long hair framed his chiselled face, there was a hint of stubble along his sharp jawline, and piercing blue eyes looked down at you almost fondly. But the thing that scared you most was how big he was, he towered over you, he looked like he could crush you without breaking a sweat.
Then you saw it. The sleeves of his red Henley were rolled up to his elbows exposing the silver plates that made up his left arm. If you were scared of him before, you were terrified now.
"Mm. There's those pretty eyes. So full of fear. It's adorable really." Despite what he was saying you couldn't take your eyes off of his arm. It was only when he leaned down over you, hands planted either side of your head, that you could look him in his eyes again. He stared down at you with such intensity, like he wanted to devour you and cherish you and destroy you all at once. His warm breath fanned across your face as he spoke again, "My name is Bucky, and today... is my birthday."
He leaned back up to his full height, his gaze shifting down to your restraints. When you follow his eyes you see that he tied you up with red silk, like you were some kind of fucked up birthday present, wrapped up nicely just for him.
"After all the shit I've been through I deserve something nice for a change." He spoke as if this was normal, still keeping his cold, blue eyes fixed on the silk rendering you defenceless, "I figured you'd make the perfect gift. Just for me. I don't have to share anymore, I own you, once and for all. You're mine, to do whatever I please with."
At that he reached down to unbutton his jeans, the sound of a zipper reaching your ears as you start to panic, but all the words died in your throat when Bucky straddled your chest, the bulge in his pants now right in front of your face. In this position you were even more restrained, only able to kick your bound legs around blindly. He pulled down his boxers just enough to take out his cock, the tip leaking precum, angling it at your mouth using his left hand, the flesh one holding onto the headboard.
"Open wide, I'd hate to break your jaw this early on." You don't doubt that he could snap your jaw before you could blink, and seeing his metal hand up close made submitting seem like the easiest choice. So you licked your lips, and hesitantly opened your mouth, but before you could wrap your lips around the head of his cock, Bucky snapped his hips forward until his cock hit the back of your throat.
"If I feel teeth I'll knock them out," he lets out a low groan as he slides out of your mouth, his metal hand joining the flesh one on the headboard as he starts a brutal pace. His cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust, his thighs surrounding you till he was the only thing you could focus on. You were struggling to breathe, unable to focus on the words tumbling from his lips in a lustful haze, though you could slightly make out some praises about how perfect you were and how good you were taking him. You stopped trying to understand him after hearing that.
After what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes, Bucky pulled out of mouth to start stroking his cock, the mix of saliva and precum making it easy for him to glide his flesh hand up and down his length. You laid there beneath him, gasping for breath while he jerked himself off above you, and after a few more strokes he threw his head back as he came, thick ropes of cum coating your face and landing in your mouth. Bucky kept stroking himself, looking down at your cum covered face, until he slowed to a stop. He caught his breath for a few more seconds before speaking again.
"Oh this was just the beginning, darling. I'm gonna make sure I have a very happy birthday."
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Reblog if you liked it plz <33
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steph-speaks · 3 months
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Hello! Good night/morning/afternoon (When you read this) Could you please make a list of Walter Kovacs/rorschach headcanons With a slow burn crush for a reader who is quite kind and calm (energetic sometimes like a puppy) and is quite intelligent and agrees with him in many points of view, mostly with a philosophically realistic view of things.
Angels Don't Belong In Hell
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Author's Note: Hello, friend! You're the first person to send in a request for Rorschach/Walter so thanks!! Hope you like it. 🖤 Warnings: Gn!reader for the most part but one or two fem! implications? mucho angst, arguing, this whole franchise is a warning let's be honest Divider by @saradika-graphics
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He wouldn't warm up to you right away, no siree. Think of him as a very violent, very skittish + mistrusting feral cat. Forcing him to try to like you is not going to get your point across.
That being said, at first he would probably assume your energy is akin to naivete. No one could be that cheerful in such a fucked up world, right? But then again he is friends with Daniel.
Because he was abused by his mother, he has a deep-rooted mistrust in women. But he does see how different you are from other people, and so he slowly allows himself to start to feel something for you. If this was some ploy to get close to him for nefarious means, you're clearly playing the extra long game.
You would have to initiate dialogue with him, otherwise it's just not going to happen. Short, terse quips eventually turn into longer conversations, and this is how he figures out that maybe you're not as blind to what goes on around you as he previously thought.
"Coffee?" You offer him on a dreary day after passing one to Dan. Rorschach has found out you frequently accept social calls from a select few of the former Watchmen members, even though you've been warned quite often that you're putting yourself in unnecessary danger by associating with them. But at the same time he's taking the mug from your smaller hands, he's also begrudgingly accepting the fact that your little apartment is now going to be on his list of "places to keep an eye on".
Because you have more supplies than he does, he ends up coming to you one night in bad shape, and even though you’ve glimpsed the outline of his stubbled chin, he refuses to remove his "face" so you can clean some of the smaller lacerations that bloom under the fabric.
You briefly leave him sitting at your tiny kitchen table, unnerved at your care as you flit to the sink, plugging it and filling it halfway with cold water. "You can wash your face if you want, so the bloodstains don't take."
He doesn't reply, and you hug your robe tighter to your body, shivering. It's the dead of winter and your heater kicks off and on more often than you'd like. "Um..."
You breathe out a sigh, starting over. "I know you don't really like me, and that's fine, but surely you trust me to some extent, right? I mean, you came here, to my place instead of Dan's. Are you...mad at him for some reason?"
He nearly doesn't answer, but now he owes you. You've patched him up, so the least he can do is indulge your questions, even though every bone in his body is screaming from both physical pain and the urge to leave now that he's let you nurse his wounds.
"...Thinks I need to quit hunting criminals. Thought about it some. Now someone's killing us."
You immediately understand why he wouldn't want to quit. "Something tells me you won't stop until things are either better on the streets, or you're dead in a box."
"Better dead than complicit."
He watches as you hum and nod, a small sympathetic smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
"No rest for the weary, I guess." You absently nudge his shoulder as you walk past him, unaware of the slight stiffness you encourage in your wake. "Well, I'm going to bed, as long as you're okay."
"Hm."
You purse your lips and roll your eyes. "There's food in the cupboards. Take whatever you need. And keep those cuts clean."
And so begins the tentative relationship. "Friendship" is too much, too familiar, but when he starts coming around more often, you think he might not be all that bad. Maybe he's even starting to like you.
It's much, much later when he begins to notice that you're not like most of the other people in the city. You don't flaunt your figure in skimpy clothing, don't prune and preen for attention in a pathetic attempt to snag someone to take care of you for the rest of your life and supply you with copious amounts of money they probably don't have but spend anyway. You're shy, in fact. Bashful when someone thanks you, or dismissive when someone compliments you.
He thinks you might be better suited to someone like Daniel, honestly. Your subtle kindness, your inherent willingness to please others...you're sweet. Too sweet for the likes of NYC. He's made a couple of sarcastic, borderline rude comments to Daniel about it before, but his friend sees right through him.
"You're not fooling anybody, Rorschach." Dan adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "That mask of yours doesn't hide the way you stare after them."
"Don't stare," He keeps his voice gruff but not so much as it could be mistaken for defensiveness. It would imply a weakness in him. "Watch over...keep the dogs away."
"I didn't say you stare at them, I said after them. You wouldn't do that if you didn't care."
All he gives Daniel is a low hum, indicating he's no longer listening, as he usually does when he hears something he doesn't agree with. But he can't help thinking of you as he leaves his friend's home and goes back out into the brisk street.
The thought of your sweet smile indulging someone else—even if it was Daniel—makes him sick to his stomach. He stays out longer that night.
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He learns about your own feelings for him when you try to help Dan and Laurie on their impromptu rescue mission. You have no crime-fighting experience so you're confined to Archie, pacing as much as you can in the small airship as your friends rescue the man you're in love with.
They make it out in one piece, but Walter isn't prepared for the tears he sees welling in your eyes when he makes it onto Archie.
You don't rush to him, as much as you want to. It kills you not to, but Dan just blows out a breath as he walks past you, looking over your shoulder at Rorschach sternly to get his point across. You're upset. Make this better, now.
He doesn't know what to say, but he's clearly uncomfortable. Laurie squeezes your shoulder as she goes to sit with Dan up front but you can't take your eyes away from the figure across from you.
"It was stupid," You manage to say, voice hoarse from sobbing. "Going to Moloch on your own. What the hell were you thinking?"
He glances away. Glances at the equipment Dan has stored against Archie's hull, glances anywhere but your face that's pink and puffy from crying. For the first time in a long time, he thinks he might feel guilty. But he refuses to let you make him feel that way.
"Not your responsibility." He snarls. "Shouldn't be here."
"Too damn bad!" You raise your own voice, something he's not expecting, and it puts him on edge. "I am here, and I thought I'd never see you again! Do you have any idea what that felt like?"
He scowls underneath his mask. "Not your pet. Not your boyfriend. Shouldn't be part of this investigation in the first place. Not your responsibility."
You nearly reach for the closest thing to throw at him, which subsequently would have been a full ammo can, but you opt not to. "Fuck you," You shake your head at him, tears spilling over. "I'm allowed to be worried about the people I love."
You can see his shoulders stiffen even across the ship, hell you could probably see it from a mile away. The ride back to base, Dan's underground "headquarters", is silent. Neither he nor Laurie know what to say, though he has something of an idea of what to say to Rorschach when he gets the chance.
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You crash on his couch, tired beyond belief while Laurie changes upstairs. Dan and Rorschach are in the basement, voices of both reason and defiance.
"People can't help what they feel," Dan says exasperatedly as he begins to take his hood and goggles off. "And neither can you, no matter what you try to tell yourself."
Rorschach paces back and forth, frustrated. "Shouldn't be condoning their little fantasy of a life with me. Should be protecting them—"
"Have you ever thought that maybe they're safer with you rather than separated from you?" Dan eyes him like it's the answer to the whole debacle. "Who better to protect them than you?"
Rorschach growls. "Made a mistake. Got caught."
"Then for God's sake, learn from it." Dan throws his gloves haphazardly onto a workbench. "The fact of the matter is, they said they love you. That means something! You may not think it does, and it's true that people these days throw those words around like it's candy, but they meant it. And you're going to break their heart over some stupid ideology that you're not worth it."
At that revelation, Rorschach suddenly feels his throat squeezing, like it's trying to suffocate him from the inside out.
Dan looks at him hard before sighing. "Working together for so long, I can read you like a book. Give yourself a chance for once, will you? It's okay to not know what the next move is. When it comes to this stuff, nobody does."
"Jupiter tell you that?" He spits, bitter excuses dying on his tongue before he can voice them.
"Cut the horseshit," Dan returns, not amused in the slightest. "And tell them how you feel. But do not—and I mean do not—alienate them after everything they've done for us. For all of us."
Dan leaves him to his own devices in that basement. Leaves him to wallow in his own ire until he's ready to come up on his own, but he doesn't. He sleeps upright on an old ratty futon that's been down there since Dan bought the place, gloved hands curled in tight fists even as he dozes off.
You find him in the morning like that, your bare feet padding quietly as you bring him a plate of food. Your eyes are still puffy and eyes downcast, but you've come down here anyway to take care of him. Even after the yelling match last night that left you aching.
Walter Kovacs is no more, make no mistake. But as Rorschach reaches for your hand to make you wait, and looks up to see hope in your eyes as you turn your hand into his, he thinks there might be a small box inside what's left of his heart, and maybe you'll be the only one he'll reserve it for.
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heart2beom · 1 year
Text
1. how to not embarrass yourself
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SYNOPSIS a romcom office series; in which you're a huge romantic at heart but the shitty men you attract leaves you with countless failed relationships. then, you meet choi soobin. in an elevator. he isn't interested in you, he finds you annoying, and he clearly has zero respect for you, so why the hell are you so bent on making him like you?
WARNINGS none + NOT a smau, tag used for more reach
AUTHOR NOTE ill go according to schedule next time, bare with me for the first few chapters T-T anyways, after reading im always always open to feedback or just comments in general, i want to start this series by saying that i want this to be as interactive as possible with readers. that said, you have a suggestion, i might make it happen :)
masterlist | next
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The first day you met the blonde, it was, to put it lightly, your worst encounter with a human being. Ever. No, like...the worst. You lost your dignity that one day in March, the transition to spring.
“Hey! Hey hey hey!”, you had put your hand in the middle of the closing elevator doors, that the person inside wasn’t bothered to try and stop. “Why didn’t you...”, you bit your lip.
Nope. Not today. You kept it to yourself, maybe he didn’t see you. Running. And yelling. Yeah, he probably didn’t see you. 
You walked inside the elevator, awkwardly. 
Your hands were clammy, you don't know why. What do people do in an elevator? Were you supposed to do something? Take a little peek at the guy? It wouldn't hurt...you've heard your few shares of elevator love stories.
You looked away when you noticed his blonde hair, cursing in your head. Guess you weren't destined to get the elevator relationship.
You’ve been holding onto the theory that the blonde in men’s hair seeps into their brains and turns it rotten. Filthy, smoosh rotten brain. Naturally blonde men were actually born, and medically are evil. Despite people questioning the validity of it all...come on, you've heard "its just your bad limited experiences with blondes" a bajillion times now, its true.
Well, you haven't personally tested it out.. but there's several blonde dictators! And more than once, the dirtbag your friends would cry about was none other than a dirty ol' blonde man. There's no redemption.
But then you furrow your eyebrows---naturally blonde men. Naturally blonde men are the evil ones. You take a second glance, and notice his roots. 
Oh, they were awful.
But that only meant one thing. He wasn’t born evil. And he was cute! And young, young's important.
“Hey, what floor are you going to?” you asked with a little smile tugging at your lips, a little too smug for seven in the morning, looking straight at the closed elevator in front of you. You’re a self proclaimed romantic, when you try, you could even get some random billionaire on his knees.
But oddly, it was quiet. All your ears could pick up was white noise... Had you finally gone deaf? You could've snapped your hands to test that thought, but you hadn't.
Looking back, everything went wrong because it was seven. Even further back, maybe your parents should've forced you into being an early bird when you were a teen. Maybe then, this day wouldn't have existed in your timeline or some bullshit.
You cleared your throat, looking to your side. And the fake blonde was as collected, and silent as he was for the past thirty seconds that you’ve known him.
The elevator was incredibly slow due to it being a hundred years old but thankfully that time, it was seen as a blessing for your situation.
You tried again because hey, what harm could it cause? “So... what floor are you going to?”
One thing you learned that day, of march, in the transition to spring, was that you weren’t fucking deaf. And if it ended at that little embarrassing incident, maybe you could stand the little blonde bitch a tiny bit more.
And he didn’t look like he was going to reciprocate your small talk any time soon too. But so what? It also quite frankly, didn’t look like you’ve had any romantic suitors for the past ten months either. And you’d promise anyone that those were the most boring... dryest... lowest point of your life.
No romance? You can’t go another month like this or you’ll end up in the trajectory of a lonely cat mother who actually enjoys the taste of black coffee and not drank it for the purpose of getting approval from hot coffee snobs.
So, you took it upon yourself to try and save this in the ten seconds you had left before you’d leave to work at your job and continue to sell your youth.
“Ah, so I guess we’re going to the same floor huh?” you said taking note of the bright yellow 16.
“I like your blonde... suits you.”
“You have the face of like..an adorable rabbit, but like a very big and tall rabbit. It’s a charming thing by the way”
You kept on going, one second every sentence, something should get him. 
“You know you could be a model." you exhaled. "Hey, are you wearing airpods?” Admittedly, as much as you pride yourself to having the patience of a monk you were...you were getting impatient and every word you said was punching your self esteem to the floor. It wasn't great.
You were beginning to think he was either the one who was actually deaf or was listening to music. Both would make perfect sense so you did the most perfectly sensible thing to do and ...pushed his hair to the side to see if he had something in.
“What the hell?”
Was the first sentence fake blonde had spoken to you.
And was also the first time had acknowledged you, looking at you straight at your face. Fortunately, the elevator had reached your floor and opened. 
You were frozen, frozen like glued to the floor there while the blonde furrowed his eyebrows giving you his first but not last, judging side eye as he walked out the elevator. Leaving you there. Staring at the space he was occupying. 
All you could think about were his ears. His ears were perfectly free of any wired and wireless earphones. So he wasn’t listening to music.
You snapped out of it and remembered your job, spam clicking the 16th button on the elevator. “Fuck”, you gasped. 
“What if he was actually deaf?”, you said to yourself pondering, biting your lip. 
When the elevator dinged, you hurriedly ran out. You had to get to your job, you couldn’t risk being late a fifth time in a row.
Kim & Associates was an easy find. Glass doors however showed you something. The blonde. You pushed open the door, hesitantly walking in. 
“You remind me of myself. Handsome, young, and eager. Ah, it makes me reminiscent-- Oh, your mentor's here!” the old man pointed at you, fake blonde looking your way too.
You walk fast to get closer to them, confused. You don't show it though, you're a professional.
"He's...he's the..." you tried to keep on a smile. Your boss was just nodding, completely clueless. Yes, you were an outstanding employee but you can't mentor someone who has a difficulty you've never had to deal with...
Fake blonde. You looked to your side to see him...you felt bad, how hard is it to be deaf and work in an office that prioritizes salesman...ship...
Your eyes widened. Then narrowed. How deaf was this guy really?
"Hi." you turned to the blonde, extending a hand. He shook it, looking right into your eyes. "Hi...um" he looked at your chest quickly, "Y/N. I look forward to working with you."
"Wonderful wonderful. Y/N, this is Choi Soobin." the manager gestured to the blonde, and you nod. He looked like his name.
It was quiet, again.
"So...now you've met. Fun! I'll steal you for a bit Soobin to give you your name badge, after that, you can head to Y/N and she'll start you up with all the ...business."
When your manager took Soobin away, you've by long figured out that the likelihood of him being deaf...was very low. Which flared your cheeks into a very embarrassingly bright red.
And when Soobin ended up finding you after an hour, you still took your chances.
"Are you deaf?" you blurted out, avoiding eye contact. Maybe this was the only time you would ever pray for a person to actually turn out to be deaf, maybe this wasn't your brightest moment...but it had to done, or you would go to bed every night saying 'what if i asked the god that i don't believe in'.
And there it was, the minute of silence that always has to go by with this guy.
"What?" he finally asked.
"God, forget it. You're clearly not." you painfully laughed; you turned your head to look at him in the eye again. And you wished you hadn't. It's the same exact look you give Sunghoon every time he spills water on his computer, the fucking hooligan, at the office.
"I need to..." You pointed being your back, nodding. "To go shit. Yeah, bye. Have fun."
The first day was bad, alright. So what? You were always one to to get back on your feet, no matter how tough it was. That's exactly what you did the second day. You called it, 'Trial number 2 of day 1.'
Everyone deserves second chances.
You got on the elevator, and there he was. Tall and...cute as ever if you cared to add.
"Hey, my little mentee guy." you said playfully punching his shoulder, chuckling.
"Hi."
Awkward.
"Soobin, right?"
"Mhm."
He wasn't deaf, he just isn't a communicator, check.
The elevator wasn't the best, but who kills it in a cramped up claustrophobic inducing space? Not even the best of the best can do it.
So, your most obvious plan was to get him to warm up to you through your fun mentoring!
"You aren't Soobin's mentor anymore, Sakura is assigned to him."
"What the fuck?" you yelled, and the manager slightly jumped up from his chair, "Why? I thought--I thought that wasn't allowed?" you were frantic, blonde asshole asked to switch to another mentor? And his request was bad enough that it was accepted?
"Language language." the manager shushes, sitting back down. He exhaled. "He said...well, he said that you were making him uncomfortable...and ...and I take the word 'uncomfortable' seriously. You know how HR takes these complaints if it gets out of hand... I could get fired, demoted, then--"
"That little blonde bitch." you whispered under your breath, scoffing.
When you stomped out of the manager's office, you headed to Chaeryeong at the receptionist desk to declare war...basically.
"You look pissed...did you get fired?" she said taking a bite of the almond cookie from the jar on the desk.
"What--No? How can you say that so casually, you know I'm the best here. Also, are you seriously eating those?"
She shrugged. "They're starting to taste edible."
You raised a brow, extremely worried...until you remembered your lack of lunch breaks, then it made sense.
"Well, that's besides the point. Chae, you see that blonde guy over there with Sakura?" She nodded, "The new guy?"
"Yeah. He's going to fall in love with me by the end of the month. I'll make sure of it." you said as a matter of fact.
Chaeryeong raised a brow in shock.
"Okay, okay, I get it.", you rolled your eyes and she reached in the cookie jar to get another one thinking you would stop being ridiculous.
"By the end of next month."
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TAGLIST @baekberrie @bestleeknowstan @linnysposts @wccycc (send an ask)
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(pardon me putting some rambling thoughts on your blog)
Some little things we know so far, mostly about "Shadow":
Shadow seemed slow to Sonic when he showed up at the very beginning. He could still keep up pretty well, though. Air shoes!!
Sonic hit his chin when he landed, so whatever's going on here probably isn't just because of a concussion. Though, well, we didn't see how Shadow landed...
The red (paint?) on Shadow is getting everywhere all of a sudden!
Actor!Shadow immediately goes for his inhibitor rings, which means he knows Character!Shadow's lore pretty well. I'm not sure Eggman would mention that detail to some hench-hedgehog...
Shadow here seems to take "Eggman hired you? Impressive!" to mean "You're an impressive actor", which is an unusual way to interpret that. It seems more like it's Eggman's audacity that Sonic meant was impressive, not Actor!Shadow's skill at pretending to be Character!Shadow.
Come to think of it, the Shadow we know has been in some pretty scary places before, it'd be interesting to hear how Actor!Shadow would describe those past adventures. Does he believe he filmed a flashback where he watched a fake Maria fake die? Would that cylinder he was in at that time have been bad for his claustrophobia?
Shadow has apparently never seen Sonic do cool stuff in person, or believes any previous spindash thingies were effects. But this one wouldn't get special effects since it wasn't scripted, I suppose?
Come to think of it, if they were being filmed, them going off-script should be making a lot of crew panic right now. Assuming Actor!Shadow isn't the only one involved with this "filming" idea, anyway, which is apparently Sonic's current theory.
What's that damaged bot doing there? Did it get hit by the spindash, or is that damage older?
That all sure is something, though I'm not sure what that all means. Maybe we'll find out Next Time, on Project Starlight Z!
Now THESE are the kind of posts that I love to answer! A long-form question requires a long form response (as much as I can respond, anyway)!
Excellent observations on our pal "Shadow" - air shoes indeed! I have more to say on the air shoes and special effects at a later date, but I think you'll find that a least a few points you bring up are going to be touched upon in upcoming pages!
As for a hypothetical crew hypothetically panicking, I think it'd be worth reexamining "Shadow"'s response to Sonic's reaction to all of this. Perhaps it'd give you a launching point ... not that you'll have to guess for much longer.
Also, a general note on the bot in the tunnel! You may find something interesting if you look at it very closely, given that this comic takes place after the events of Forces.
Next Time on Project Starlight!!!
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yersina · 6 months
Text
a linguist plays chants of sennaar (pt 5)
[pt 1] [pt 2] [pt 3] [pt 4]
the home stretch!!
disclaimer: can't promise that i'll have any insights that a layperson wouldn't have, this is kinda just me thinking through the grammar of the language out loud haha.
this post covers the fifth and last language in chants of sennaar and will contain spoilers for both the language and the endgame! it also assumes you know what the symbols mean already.
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i.... to be completely honest with you, i did not enjoy this language 😂 i think the experience of deciphering it got lost in favor of the storyline, which isn't necessarily a bad thing for everyone, but hey, i am the one going through each of these languages like a linguistic bloodhound here lol. because of that, i'm not as familiar with these words as i am with the other languages.
before we get into anything else, and also because i imagine that this will be a shorter post because the game itself tells you what patterns to look for, i do want to say that this language strikes me as being incredibly artificial. which is a good thing! it emulates the digital apocalypse vibe that exile gives. but a language that leans so heavily into being constructed and recombined and modulated so easily really gives me the impression that it was created and not organically developed. the only other irl example that comes to mind at the moment is korean hangeul, which was purposefully created by king sejong and is an alphabet, not a logography. like, this is a language that i would make for fun in high school (which is to say, it gives a kind of overly grammatically strict, awkwardly too regular vibe?).
it's kind of funny that this language is where i'm starting to get reminded of conlangs, especially when, well, everything in this game is a conlang. but if we take each of the radicals in this language as affixes/morphemes when they're being combined into one character, then this actually reminds me of a specific conlang (ithkuil, i think?) where you can convey incredibly complex ideas through very few words.
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the language of the anchorites isn't quite this complex, but hopefully the comparison gets my point across?
i’m curious if only certain elements can be combined with each other or if there’s a certain order to them, but it’s hard to tell when there’s such limited evidence in the game. interestingly, i believe the anchorites’ language is the only one in this game that makes a distinction between “die” and “death/dead” by combining the noun with the verb “go”. not sure why the developers suddenly made that decision haha.
this language, like most in the game, is an SVO language, which we can see below:
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but i think also they (the developers) were trying to convey more complex sentence structures than their language was designed to communicate??? so then you end up w smth like below:
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which, if you translated literally, would actually be “you man i wait”. again, super interesting bc i think an actual, more accurate anchorite sentence should be “i wait you man”. they have a more complex sentence here bc of the predicate (“you’re the one”) and the dative (“for”), but really the sense that they’re trying to go for is “i was awaiting the one [who is you]”. i guess it’s possible that different grammatical cases are treated differently in this language, or that, like english, word order is occasionally variable (even tho that option seems iffy bc we haven’t really seen evidence of it before), but tbh i suspect that really it’s that the developers wrote the dialogue and then brute forced it into the anchorite language haha. no shade! (and also impossible to confirm either way lol) just kinda amusing and also it makes sense when it’s p obvious their focus shifted from the language to the story.
this trend continues throughout all of the anchorite dialogue (imo) and makes it kinda slow and awkward to read if you don’t have all of the characters translated. in my opinion, the way that the language functions in the last part of this game makes it pretty clear that the developers meant for you to rely on the given translations during this potion of the game, especially when the translation mechanic is mostly through the matching terminals in exile, rather than speaking with people.
annoyingly, the anchorites’ language is also the only one in the game that doesn’t have words for the other people/cultures in the game (demonyms), which also doesn’t give much to work off of in terms of cultural context, relationships, etc.
again, i’ve decided not to get into an in-depth orthographic analysis of this particular language bc the game itself introduces you to them. one that i noticed that wasn’t specifically addressed in-game is the similarity between “open” and “key”, which is something that i actually also noted before in the devotees’ language. i’m sure there are others, but i’m also sure you can find them yourself!
all in all, a strange ending to this game. if you’ve made it this far in all of my posts—thanks for hanging around! hope you were able to learn smth new :)
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Old Friends | Mando x Reader
Part 1 of my new series ‘Weakness’
Part 2
Full story will also be on my Wattpad
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"I didn't realize asking for a ride was so offensive on this planet!" I roll my eyes, wiping blood from my nose as I crouch behind a large crate.
"Show yourself you thieving SCUM!"
For a moment, the fact that you're currently in the midst of what is essentially a fight to the death slips your mind. You quickly stand from where you hid, turning to to face your opponent with a look of offense branding your face.
"Thief?! Jinshi, pal, don't you think that's a little ha-" your eyes widen and you drop to the floor, the sound of your rival's blaster, firing overhead. "Harsh, I was going to say harsh..."
"Stop hiding you coward!" Jinshi bellows, firing another shot, this time shattering the corner of the crate. You feel the anger building; for once in your life you hadn't been in the wrong, you'd come into town hoping to find passage on a ship but an old "friend" seemed to have other plans.
"Jinshi..you know I don't want things to end like this-" one last attempt at diffusing things without any more violence than what has already occurred . "But you also know that I'll do what I have to do to save my own ass. Always have, always will."
Silence. You don't hear so much as a footstep.
"Jinshi?" you stand slowly, blaster tight in hand as you survey the room. The confusion only lasts for a moment, as two stubby arms latch themselves around your neck from behind. Your weapon hits the floor and your hands shoot up, grabbing tightly onto the limbs that bind you.
"I told you you'd pay for what you did to my family!" Jinshi growls as his grip tightens, arms constricting around your neck like a snake preparing its meal.
"And I told you-" each word catches in your throat as you use all your strength to loosen his hold as much as possible. Even the air struggles to pass through. "I told you, it wasn't me!"
Another blaster shot rings through the room, followed by a heavy thud and suddenly your lungs are flooded once more. Eyes wide, you look around, hands still at your neck.
"Jinshi?" you crouch beside his limp body, feigning a look of sadness before reaching a hand under his collar and snatching a locket off of the corpse.
"Guess you were right...maybe I am a thief." standing now with a disgusted expression, you give your old friend a final word. "Bastard."
"If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have shot." A vaguely familiar voice echoes behind you. "Or maybe I would have...just not him."
"Mando." You turn smoothly, a sarcastic grin emerging as you see the familiar sheen of his beskar.
"I almost feel bad for the guy...I'm sure whatever his reason was for wanting you dead, it was justified." he takes slow steps forward, keeping a solid aim locked on you with his blaster as he closes the gap between you.
"Oh how I love visits with old friends.." you match his pace, stepping forward, not even bothering to get to your weapon.
"What did I tell you about that armor?" his voice is cold and demanding as he holds his stance. Your arms swing out at your sides as you glance down at your armor, the style of which resembles his own.
"Oh come on, don't you think it suits me?" the mischievous smile growing on your lips is just the icing on top of the faux-charm act you're performing.
"Take it off. Or I will." he takes one more step forward. With every inch lost between the two of you, his looming dominance grows. Even with his helmet inhibiting you from seeing the brows that you knew were furrowed in disgust, you could feel his power. It was a force that radiated out from within and showed in the way he held himself, but the intimidation wouldn't set you back.
"Oh please," you glance at his gun and back up. "You wouldn't want to damage the precious armor that you care so much for, now would you?"
"You talk too much."
"Says the man who saved my life."
"I said take it off. Now."
"Or else you will, right?" a final step is taken in his direction. "I'd like to see you try."
"What was that?" you could see his frustration in the way he cocked his head, his grip on the blaster shifting.
"I said..." your voice drops to a slow whisper as you lean closer. "I'd like to see you try..."
You maintain a deep stare at him, a stare so strong he could've sworn you could see right through his helmet. Without breaking your gaze you swiftly grab at his blaster, successfully disarming him and aiming his own weapon back at him, keeping it tight, pressed against his abdomen. Had it been surprise or anger that kept him quiet, you couldn't tell, but you used your new position of power to your advantage.
"Now what do you say...we make a deal?" the tip of the blaster presses more firmly against his body as your voice stays low.
"Unlikely." a simple reply from the man of few words, to which you respond with a feigned look of pleading innocence.
"Oh come on now Mando, I think we could help each other out, don't you? See, you want this armor...I want passage off this sorry excuse for a planet..." you raise your eyebrows, head tilting up. "Can't we come to some sort of agreement?"
There's a tense pause before he replies.
"Not happening." You relax your arm, letting the blaster fall to your side with a half-assed shrug.
"Ah...what a shame.." you turn on your heel, beginning to walk away without another word.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"there's a spike of urgency in his voice as he takes a brisk step towards you. Even quicker than before, you turn around, blaster now held out straight, a firm grip holding perfect aim at his head.
"Ya know...that armor may be tough and all...but there's this nice little spot.." you slowly drop your aim ever so slightly down. "Right at your neck...a fully exposed jugular. Nothing but a bit of fabric to protect it, a fatal shot if made right...and I never miss."
One last pause before finishing your final offer to the hunter before you.
"I'll give you one last chance...you give me passage on your ship, I give you your silly little armor back, everyone wins."
He takes a moment to contemplate, his helmet not doing much to stop you from feeling the daggers his eyes are shooting through you. The pause is broken and he gently raises his hands in surrender, causing you to relax, blaster dropping to your hip.
"Fine." no other words are said, he simply extends his arm, his hand requesting the return of his weapon. But you shake your head, pulling the gun away from his reach.
"You'll get this back," you give a slight wave of the blaster. "Once I'm safely on that ship of yours."
All you hear is a muffled grunt as he pushes past you. Quickly, you grab your own blaster off the floor and follow him as he leads you to the spacecraft.
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tarisilmarwen · 8 months
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Rebels Rewatch: "Wolves And A Door"/"A World Between Worlds"
Things get Force Weird as we approach the final stretch.
Live reaction version.
Right so I'm probably going to be cannibalizing some of my "Ezra Bridger as a thematic Chosen One in Star Wars Rebels and the messianic imagery of “A World Between Worlds”" essay because even though I still want to make that its own separate post someday, there's going to be things about these two episodes that I have to bring up and observations that will crossover with that essay when and if that finally gets finished.
I'm going to try to be very sparing with the caps too, because I've got two whole episodes to cover and ghksajhfkjahkjh there's way too much pretty to show off, I honestly don't know how I'm gonna do it guys.
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I love that after the somber musical fog they put us through last episode they start us off with bouncy plinky pizzicato strings and Loth-cat cuteness. They were like, "Hey, we know things have been heavy lately and they're gonna be again, but in the meantime have kitties sitting on top of doggos and feel for a moment reassured that there is still goodness in the world."
Zeb's skepticism re. the wolves is a little silly given that they've already shown that they're intelligent sentient creatures.
Ezra's already showing signs of the serenity and dignity he takes on as de facto leader of the Lothal rebels. Hera actually kind of cedes that role to him, and Ryder has certainly already taken several steps back out of cynicism.
So it falls to Ezra to lead them, to plan out their attack strategies, to be their head.
He's matured so much I'm so proud of him.
The wolves are deeply connected to the Force, and to Lothal. Ezra is too. In a way, he's of their kind. And after accepting his task from them last episode they consider him officially part of the pack it seems, because they readily come to his call.
Ezra's unique ability to connect, once again an invaluable asset.
Subtle animation appreciation moment: The tufts of grass that wobble as the wolves walk through them.
Ezra's favor with the wolves extends to the others, so they are all able to climb on board and hitch a Force-assisted ride back to the northern hemisphere where the Temple is.
Love this sequence. The pounding drums. The sound design. The slow phasing of the wolves into the ground and disappearing soundlessly into it, with just a whisper of wind in their wake.
I can't get over how the Loth-wolf visions keep going back to Kanan's "You want a ride?". Filoni has mentioned that Ezra's tuned into the "echoes" that are particularly relevant to him while inside the WBW and I guess the same must apply to the hyperspace wolves tunnels. It's fascinating, we've always taken hyperspace for granted but since it's part of the galaxy, it has to be part of the Force as well, so it makes perfect sense in a way that ancient Force guardians like the Loth-wolves, or creatures just intimately connected with the Force like the purrgil, can make their own hyperspace tunnels naturally, in order to pass through time and space.
"It surrounds us, it penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together."
Something I really love about the whole concept of the World Between Worlds is the idea that we're getting a rare glimpse at the inner structure of the Force itself, the tendons and strings connecting it together.
Anyway, sob with me about how the echoes end with Ezra's "There's just you and me." from "Siege of Lothal". It was just them, two flickering twin moons against the blackest night, holding back the darkness until sunrise.
And now it's just Ezra alone.
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What I wouldn't give to know what they're talking about.
Frick his whole bearing is different. He's quieter, more somber. We blinked and he grew up, aged five years in a night.
We reach the Temple and it's as bad as we've feared, the Empire has set up all around it and the area bristles with lights and equipment. They've burrowed down to the foundations of the Temple, trying to pull up its secrets by the root, and they've wholecloth removed the familiar doors from it, leaving a gaping surface level hole.
The Temple itself has sealed itself tight, barring entry to the interlopers, and I LOVE the thematic fairy tale underpinnings of this.
There's a line in The Magician's Nephew, one of the Chronicles of Narnia and another strong influence on the show's writing and concepts, that goes like: "Come in by the gold gates or not at all, Take of my fruit for others or forbear, For those who steal or those who climb my wall, Shall find their heart’s desire and find despair."
This is another overarching myth archetype: Only The Worthy May Pass.
If your heart is true, and you ask permission, show the Threshold Guardian respect, walk humbly and seek the boon for others, it will be granted to you freely. But if you're selfish, if you lie and cheat and steal and trick your way in, brute force what you want and are arrogant, demanding the prize, you will receive your just reward. And you won't like it.
Think of the last Indiana Jones movie. Indiana Jones is the one that takes all the risk, makes the leap of faith to save his father, and is granted permission to use the Grail's healing powers. The Nazi-aligned academic rival who barged in with tanks and guns and wants to live forever using the Grail's powers, however?
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Indiana Jones vibes are aaaaaaaallll over these whole two episodes by the way. The whole general feel of an archaeological adventure with an unexpected encounter with the divine, it's great.
I still think it's immensely clever that they used the recording of Thrawn to distract the Scout Troopers. Still hilariously convenient that one of them is female.
Even the music gets Indiana Jones-esque when Ezra and Sabine make it down into the hollow.
Hi Hydan!
I love him. He's such a good oneshot villain. Cordial and affably polite and yet my skin crawls whenever he threatens either Sabine or Ezra. He's another Thrawn archetype/parallel, he studies the mysteries of the Force in the hopes of understanding them, not for himself, but to grow the power of his Emperor. He plunders the wealth of the Lothal Temple not out of respect for it, but to dissect it for knowledge and power.
An absolutely seamless Mind Trick from Ezra here. So proud of him.
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The matching "Oh crap!" expressions on their faces when they realize that's Emperor Freaking Palpatine on the other end of the line.
The Mortis arc is actually one of the few TCW arcs I watched in full. Sue me I love me some Force Weirdness. So it was quite a delight to see the Mortis gods returning as artistic archetypal representations of the aspects of the Force. The Light, the Dark, the Unifying/Cosmic Balance. (Even the Living Force is represented in the mural by the Loth-wolves.) Since we're exploring the very inner scaffolding of the Force itself these episodes, it made perfect sense to me to bring them back, and tie them into how the Lothal Temple operates.
Unsurprisingly the Emperor's leitmotif makes an appearance here. Palpatine already has extraordinary clairvoyent powers but they've become confused after Kanan's sacrifice. Kanan has altered the fate of Lothal somehow, and even Palpatine can't figure out why.
(Pssst, it's because the Force is actually working against you buddy, it's trying to restore proper balance.)
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This moment was very mean and hurted in all the right ways.
"They'll be fine." "I used to always believe that." This hits right in the parental bone, ouch.
Harps and female vocals once again signifying the arcane mysteries of the Force.
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And this is gorgeous.
Ezra and Sabine begin to puzzle out the meaning behind the mural, Ezra only able to identify the Loth-wolves and the green convor that liked to follow Ahsoka around. (We've still not been given an explanation for that one yet. The prevailing theory is that it's what left of the Daughter, acting as a spirit guide/guardian for Ahsoka.)
The golden pathways correspond to the paths and doorways inside the World Between Worlds and when they're aligned on the mural, the wolves awaken to form the portal that grants access. Only one who can channel the Light Side is able to unlock the mechanism to align the pathways, via connecting to the Daughter part of the mural.
This is one of the reasons why Palpatine needed to cheat to get inside. The other reason is that, per word of Filoni, the World Between Worlds is actually a bit choosy about who it lets inside.
Again, Only The Worthy May Pass. Ezra is connected to the Force and to Lothal, a native son of the planet, a Jedi, and he has the wolves' favor, so he is granted access.
Like Maul back on Malachor, Palpatine cannot open the door on his own.
Sabine does a pretty good job bluffing the Troopers that come to investigate her presence by the mural, buying Ezra enough time to connect to the Daughter and open the portal.
Ezra remembering Kanan's last words to him, the reminder to listen.
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Rebels animation is gorgeous, I will hear no slander.
And this technique they developed to animate 2D images on top of a 3D CGI environmental surface was probably the same technology they used for mini Maui in Moana. Put to absolutely beautiful use, there's zero weird blending or edging at all, it just looks fully integrated and a natural part of the image.
Now, obviously the mural wolves need a clear space in order to form the portal but I also think they were drawing Ezra far enough away from the Stormtroopers that they wouldn't get to him in time. So that they couldn't stop him.
I'm actually reminded of a scene in Avatar: The Last Airbender (which Filoni also worked on), where Aang manages to slip in last minute through the giant door into the inner shrine that could only be opened by several Fire Sages working in tandem, and the way Roku--the previous Avatar before Aang, and a Firebender himself--seals the door behind Aang, so that even the Sages can't open the door anymore.
Ezra has a meeting with the Divine, and the Empire is not invited.
The score going full blast Indiana Jones mysticism, love it.
Like Thrawn, Hydan clocks Sabine as someone who doesn't belong there immediately, recognizing her from the incident before. The dig site is put on full alert and Troopers close in on Ezra, who's paralyzed for a moment, nervous to enter the portal.
Sabine yells for him to go.
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And with determination and purpose, he does.
And the portal seals behind him.
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Sabine's worry and fear. <3 Even though she told him to go, watching him literally disappear into a wall has to be frightening.
AND NOW FOR THE EXTRA FORCE WEIRD PART. :D
The World Between Worlds is a place where time and space have no meaning, because all time is present at once. Past, present, and future is all happening simultaneously inside the starvoid, which pulses with the whispers of those who have come before, and those who are yet to come. It's a liminal space, a space of transition, an "in-between" that is neither here nor there. @seleneisrising has an excellent series of posts comparing it to the Wood Between The Worlds, again from The Magician's Nephew, a seemingly endless wood with countless pools that represent different worlds one can enter and exit, if one has the proper travel implements (green and gold rings, in this case).
It is not time travel. Filoni and other writers make it very clear that you cannot, SHOULD NOT, actually use it for that purpose, because if you take something out of its proper time and space, things could go very very badly, and you could create a paradox that destroys time.
Ezra doesn't know this when he winds up pulling Ahsoka out of Malachor, but Ahsoka suspects--since she's been in this kind of Force Weird situation before--so that why she's immediately all, "Okay you have to put me exactly back where you found me." and declines to come with Ezra out his portal.
And that's also why Ezra can't save Kanan.
More on that later.
Our first series of echoes is about the Force, in general, and specific quotes apply to Ezra in particular, for the character journey he's going to complete inside this liminal space.
"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose." "What you need you already have. Unfortunately, you seem to be letting it all go." "I won't let him lose his way. Not like I did."
The World Between Worlds is already warning him of the temptation that Palpatine will offer, first with Kanan, and then with his parents. Palpatine will dangle the idea of undoing his loss, reversing and cheating death, the same thing he offered Anakin, if he would only just lend Palpatine a little of his power, just a small favor, just open this door for me good lad, don't you want this?
It's a trap. A trick. A lie. There is no reversing death.
You cannot go back down into Hades.
The Force theme permeates this space, floating above our heads with the stars in the vast empty void. Obi-Wan pipes in, via voiceover, to explain what we're seeing, in essence, the very scaffolding and inner workings of the Force.
Meanwhile outside, the troopers are not gentle with Sabine. Hydan tries to make nice and she sasses him to hell and back, refusing to cooperate.
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Sabine trying not to let her worry for Ezra show, when Hydan threatens that the Emperor will find him inside the World Between Worlds. <3
Vocal cameos from across the Star Wars canon as Ezra crosses the World Between Worlds. I know someone has identified all of them but I don't have the list at hand. Most of them aren't relevant to Ezra in any case.
Morai appears though, to help guide Ezra to the Malachor portal. I know it was suggested that Kanan helped orchestrate Ahsoka's rescue from beyond the grave, as some kind of "unfinished business" Kanan had yet to do before he fully pass on. Some people were confused why Kanan would want to do that, he was never particularly close to Ahsoka nor was he particularly as devastated by her apparent death. Not like Ezra.
I can accept that logic from the writers though, if it's Kanan trying to help Ezra finally assuage his guilt over Malachor, give him a chance to make things better. And give Ezra a Force Sensitive ally to help find him after everything is said and done.
Kanan knew he was going to die. Knew he couldn't be there for Ezra. So he arranged a way for there to be someone to look for and after Ezra after he was gone. He knew they would need Ahsoka's help.
My thoughts, anyway.
Ezra's quiet horror when the portal activates and shows him the tail end of the Malachor confrontation. :(
It is hilarious to think about how this must look to Vader and Ahsoka. On Vader's end he's swinging down and all of a sudden a hand comes out of a shimmering patch of air and just yoinks Ahsoka away into thin air and then the floor collapses under him and he just had to go back to Palpatine and explain all of that or else pretend that didn't happen, lol.
And then Ahsoka had to wake up in a weird place after fighting Vader and unpacking all of that My Master Is Evil trauma and then see an older Ezra in Stormtrooper armor, learn that Kanan was dead, help Ezra not break the universe, fight an apparition of the Emperor, and then run back to Malachor so she wouldn't break the universe either. Girl needs a damn nap after all that ha ha.
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Sabine continuing to be super uncooperative with Hydan. He eventually loses patience and lets the Death Troopers smack her a bit. She's not badly hurt but the point comes across; she needs to play nice or else.
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Ahsoka looks SO confused lol.
Vader echoes sound in the background, these ones attuned to Ahsoka, responding to the revelations she has just had about Vader's true identity. As well as an echo from the Daughter, when Ahsoka notices Morai.
(This resonates with what Filoni says about the World Between Worlds in a recent interview, that it attunes to whoever is currently inside, or the person inside only truly hears echoes that are relevant to them, the rest may as well be static and noise, incomprehensible.)
Ahsoka's the one who suggests Kanan's spirit is lingering, trying to guide and teach Ezra one last time from beyond the grave, through the manifestation of the Dume wolf, and yeah, it tracks. I kind of like the notion that Kanan clung to himself just long enough to make sure Ezra was okay before he let himself move on and dissipate into the ether.
Ezra latches onto the idea that Kanan meant for him to save Ahsoka, and then tracks that thought straight into "I can prevent Kanan's death too."
But it's not the same.
Ahsoka knows she has to go back through her portal and return to the time she left, sooner rather than later in order to prevent any kind of paradoxical damage to the timeline. But she can't leave the grieving Ezra in limbo and so she rushes after him to hold back his hand.
Once again, "You want a ride?" echoes, the moment Kanan first offered his hand and help to Ezra, which must be so intimately imprinted on him that it's what he always first hears.
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"You can learn what it truly means to be a Jedi." And he's about to, Kanan, believe me.
Ezra's theme plays here. It doesn't complete, never making it to the second stanza. Ezra's not thinking straight. His words echo Anakin's, "I can stop people from dying!" He's too wrapped up in his grief. He's trying once again to reach for power that isn't his to grasp, in order to stop loss from happening to him.
He is attached.
Attachment in the Star Wars universe has a very specific connotation. It has never meant love, or relationships, friendships, other people, cherished places or things. It is all about one's own mindset when relating to those things. Jedi are supposed to love everyone, selflessly. But they are supposed to understand that nothing lasts forever. Things die, people move in and out of your life, the change happens and you can't stop it "Any more than you can stop the twin suns from setting." Shmi says. Children grow up and leave home. Being a Jedi, being balanced in the Force, means you accept the transitory nature of things and let go of your fear of loss.
Because fear leads to the Dark Side. Being afraid of loss, of being without the things important to you, makes you angry at what might try to take those things. Which makes you jealous, clingy. Greedy. Makes you grasp tighter. Makes you desperate. Makes you seek for the power to keep those things with you. And there the Dark Side is, calling to you, offering you that power. Promising to help you keep those things you want.
But it's a trap. The Dark Side will consume you. It will not help you save what you fear to lose, it will instead demand their sacrifice. The desire for power will overtake everything else, every other noble intention or motivation you had. What you intended to save you will no longer care about. The Dark Side will be all there is.
So you must let go of the things you fear to lose. Let go of that fear, and it will have no power over you. Accept the loss, and do not grasp for the power to break reality, to cheat the natural order, just to spare yourself the pain of not having that thing or person in your life.
Because you cannot go back down into Hades.
You cannot turn back time. You cannot undo death.
"You can't save your master," Ahsoka tells him, so so gently because she knows how hard this is. "And I can't save mine," she accepts.
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And so Ezra looks at the portal, everything in him screaming in grief. And Ezra, who has abandonment issues and so much of his own worth and validation wrapped up in Kanan--"Kanan believes I can."--who thinks of Kanan as more a father than a teacher, who is still at heart a lost little boy who misses his parents... does one of the hardest and bravest things ever required of him.
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He drops his hand, and turns his eyes, and lets go.
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He faces the grief and loss head on, and accepts it. Doesn't let it master him.
And thwarts Palpatine one moment more.
Because the image of Kanan was not actually him. The Dark Side will never actually keep its promises. Or it will fulfill them in a way that makes it not matter. It all consuming, always hungry, never satisfied, and it will suck you dry.
The portal Ezra was tempted by leads straight to Palpatine. Who reveals himself like a cackling demon, shrouded and surrounded by blue flames.
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Yikes.
Outside, Hera and Zeb are preparing to spring Sabine free of Hydan's "company", though not before she learns the way to seal the portal again.
The lovely dichotomy of "Sabine will know."/"He's on his way." is great BTW, they have so much faith and trust in each other.
Sabine's cheeky little, "Sorry about the mess." :)
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I am fairly certain, though I can't find the post from Celebration that talked about it in overview, that Dave et all recycled several ideas from the planned Season 7 arcs for TCW into Rebels. This fight I'm sure was one of them, I remember something about fighting Palpatine in the basement of the Jedi Temple, where the nexus is.
Full male chorus for this moment, love it.
Palpatine won't give up so easily. He still needs to piggyback off Ezra's permission, because the Temple accepted Ezra and rejected him. If he cannot trick Ezra into being his anchor, he will simply attempt to latch onto him from the other side by force, through Sith sorcery.
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YEAH NO THAT'S TERRIFYING.
Also fanficcers once again have let me down, I need way more Bad End AUs to this scene than just the one I wrote.
"When you get back, come and find me!" An obligation yet to be fulfilled. Hopefully the Ahsoka show will finish this out. *fingers crossed*
Ahsoka runs back off into the shot where her back was to the camera from "Twilight of the Apprentice" and Ezra escapes, to Palpatine's severe annoyance I'm sure. I would not want to be in the room when that happened, lemme just tell ya lol.
OH HEY HERE'S MY FAVORITE NO CONTEXT SIGNATURE SCENE. :D
There's so many things about this scene that I love. Sabine grabbing Ezra's arm to help him up. Zeb practically holding Ezra to him as they run, giving him cover from the blaster fire. Chopper's Big Damn Heroes moment as he drives a freaking drill (one he was eyeing earlier) into the crowd of Stormtroopers.
DEAN KINER'S EXCELLENT "THE TEMPLE COLLAPSES" MUSIC CUE WHICH IS OF COURSE MY FAVORITE OF THE WHOLE SOUNDTRACK.
Ezra looking immediately to Sabine to tell him which one to activate, because he trusts she's figured it out. Zeb helping lift him high enough to reach.
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Ezra connecting to the Son, the score piping in with piano to signify the Force usage. Maybe Ezra is having to call upon the Dark Side, maybe he is just making a connection, but either way it's harder than it was with the Daughter. Takes more effort. He collapses immediately into Zeb's arms right after.
But look at Ezra’s expression:
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The way his lips and eyes pinch, how his face tightens.  The minute tremble in his lip. It’s not anger or fear or passion he’s channeling here.
It’s grief.
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Ezra falls unconscious into a Pietà pose (more on that in the messianic imagery post) and looks incredibly small here in Zeb's arms. This is such a soft moment and it's so sweet, I love it.
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The mural turns crimson red and the Temple begins to seal and collapse. Removing itself from the physical plane of existence entirely, to deny Palpatine access.
Our heroes flee, Hydan perishes, the most gorgeous animation of the show splashes across the screen as the wolves return to their place, the Daughter and Son descend, and the Father claps his hands and sinks the Temple.
Ezra is barely conscious the whole time, a lot having been taken out of him. It's similar to how he collapsed in "Gathering Forces" and "Vision of Hope" and "Holocrons of Fate", too much Force energy exhausts him. As he fades out, Kanan's voice calls out from the white light.
"The Force will be with you, always."
By implication, "I'll be with you Ezra. I'm alive inside of you now."
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And then all that's left is to say one last goodbye to Kanan, across the glasslike surface of the plain where the Temple once stood, into the rising light of dawn and the fading footsteps of the white Loth-wolf.
Kanan's theme plays us out over the credits.
These two episodes contextualize, and re-contextualize SO much about the overall story. Finally we know what Ezra was meant to do, what made him so special that the Force chose him, not as the Chosen One, but as a Chosen One, with a specific destiny and purpose that he needed to fulfill.
A child of Lothal, tested and found worthy by the wolves, who was already blessed by the Jedi Temple before. Favored by the Force to enter into its innermost sanctum to protect it from those who would desecrate it, twist it to their own purposes.
Ezra's narrative importance to the overall Star Wars saga becomes immensely clear. His character development is complete, and he now has the strength to stand against Palpatine's temptations, and the bravery to make the ultimate sacrifice for his planet and people. One whose results he won't even be able to see.
Just like Kanan did. Kanan's last lesson--To love unselfishly and give of yourself, even if means losing what you hold dear, simply because it is right and you are needed--will be Ezra's final act as well. And it took being asked to let go and accept Kanan's death for him to understand.
These episodes are beautiful in theme and message. The World Between Worlds is a fascinating perfect addition to Star Wars lore. The character work is fantastic and I can even pardon the clear favoritism in managing to bring Ahsoka back. I love these episodes so so much, they're my absolute favorites of the whole show.
We're almost done my loves, let's watch Ezra's character development pay off next time. :)
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cinnabun-faerie · 1 year
Note
i liked your sick wol one! would you wanna do the opposite with wol being the caregiver? For estinien and aymeric maybe?
A/N: I'm glad you enjoyed it! I can do that!
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If you want to be added to the taglist for whenever I post, you can comment here on the original post !
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Aymeric
he doesn't want you to fuss over him
but he does
he wouldn't want to burden you with taking care of him
you're probably busy with other things surely
the realm is always in need of it's hero after all
but if you could spare some time, he wouldn't mind you sitting/laying with him
although he'd be more worried you'd get sick
if you did, he'd make sure to take care of you
when you give him his medicine, he'd try his best to hide his disgust for the stuff
but he wouldn't be at all annoyed by your giggles when you see his disgusted/pouty expressions
even he'd know that if it tastes bad, it's sure to work quickly
he'd sleep a lot when sick and would always wake up to more blankets on him than what was on him when he first drifted off to sleep
he'd appreciate you trying to keep him warm
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Estinien
he's very grumbly
he doesn't need to be taken care of
and he doesn't want to stay in this bed all day
he'd be especially grumbly if he had to stay in bed for more than a day
as a matter of fact, he sneaks out of bed
but you always catch him and send him back to his room
he tires himself and you out by doing this
and you're at least thankful that he's sleeping off the sickness
and he notices afterwards that you've tucked him in so good that he can't get up and try to escape
"Dammit, Y/N."
"That's what you get. If you'd just stay put, we wouldn't have a problem."
he's not used to someone forcing him to stay in bed when sick
to be honest, he just hadn't ever really slowed down to take care of himself either
so this was all kind of new to him
but because you were taking care of him, he had no issue getting used to it
"I can take care of myself, you know."
"Okay. I guess I'll go visit Aymeric and tell him you're sick, I'm sure he'll come round-"
"Stay. He needn't know about this."
haha got 'em
he also isn't used to someone giving him medicine or cuddles when sick
you know, he would really appreciate the cuddles
I'd imagine he'd curl up with you (kinda like a dragon)
he's gets the chills and needs your warmth
he's especially clingy when sick but you don't seem to mind
but he doesn't know why you're babying him
he can feed himself with a spoon yet you insist on feeding him
his cheeks get all red
"I can take care of myself, you know."
"Okay, well, I guess I'll go visit Aymeric and tell him you're sick, I'm sure he'll come round-"
"Stay. He needn't know about this."
haha got 'em
he would complain that he feels much better and doesn't need anymore of that medicine
with how it tastes, he's sure you were trying to poison him
but after the threats to go get Aymeric, he'd not say another peep
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starpirateee · 4 months
Text
Operation: Stop this guy I like from having low blood sugar
@lautski-week day 2 - Chocolate
Warnings: None / Read on AO3 Here!
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--
Steph led the charge through the forest, Peter trailing just behind her. She'd convinced him to come along with her, and though he didn't really know the context, he was happy that it would be more interesting than... Whatever was going on at the pavilion.
Though, he did want to know what was going on, and what she had planned.
"C'mon, Spankoffski, Keep up!" She glanced behind her, and slowed her pace to let him catch up to her. They were far enough away from everyone that it probably didn't matter how fast they went, and she'd managed to convince herself that the Jerry's wouldn't find them.
"Hey, cut me a break!" he huffed, finally reaching her. His eyes darted out to the vast expanse of forest before them, feeling like it looked strangely familiar in a way he couldn't place. "Where are we even going?"
"We're going to the check in cabin!"
"Huh?!"
In truth, Steph hadn't been able to stop thinking about what happened on the cross hike. Beyond the fact that she'd found a real kindred spirit in Pete, and found out that he was actually pretty funny, she'd grown to be quite concerned about him. Nobody had so much as batted an eye when Pete literally collapsed, and she genuinely wondered whether she'd been the only one concerned. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it wasn't your fault you collapsed on the hike?"
"Uh, no..." Pete managed, both stunned and confused.
"Thought so. See, it got me thinking. I mean, surely, a kid who has problems with his blood sugar had to have brought something to combat it, right? Let me guess, it didn't make it past the front desk?"
"You brought me all the way out here.. On a hypothesis?" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and forced himself not to stop through his own awe.
"Was I right?"
"Well, yeah, but y'know... What if you hadn't been?"
She shrugged. "Then, at least we'd have spent a while away from those goddamn nerds, right?"
That was fair. The last few days had been an absolute nightmare. Peter had tried to convince himself that he'd be among people that were just like him, but the sheer amount of hyper-religious bullshit that had been passed around meant that he'd only really found kinship with Steph. And she was a thousand times cooler than he'd ever be.
"Do you have a plan for any of this?"
"Other than go in there, pry open the locker and try not to get caught? Nah, not really..."
For a brief moment, all was silent. Steph had exactly long enough to wonder whether Pete was going to turn around and walk off, before he started laughing. "I like your thinking, Stephanie."
She shot him a curious look, and arched an eyebrow like he already knew what was coming. "I told you, my friends call me Steph!" She insisted, a smile gracing her lips. She really liked having him around, and not just because he was a breath of sanity when everything else in this god forsaken camp felt like anything but. She really could see herself making a friend out of him.
A little light appeared in his eyes. "We're friends?" They'd known each other for the better part of a week. He knew he'd like to consider her a friend, of course! He just had no idea that she felt the same way...
"Sure! You're not so bad, y'know?"
He grinned at that. While it was just the two of them (and fewer floating rumours of that massive beast of a man who hated sex), he didn't have to cover so much for why he wanted to smile every time she was around. Well, that, and the fact that she wasn't like literally anyone else at camp. He knew he'd have a hard time getting the celibate, abstinence-obsessed counsellors off his back, but to find another in the same boat? It was almost respite. 
He hadn't been paying that much attention to the direction they were taking in the forest, so he was relying on Steph to get them to the cabins right at the start of camp. They probably put them there so this kind of thing didn't happen, right? So people like he and Steph didn't feel the urge to go over there and try and steal from the lockers... 
Part of him wondered how many people had tried.
He was willing to bet that there weren't many. The type of kids that walked through those gates tended not to be the type to lean towards outright theft...
"Hey, Pete... We made it." Without even realising, they'd reached the check in desk. Pete looked up on the cabin as they approached, and as Steph pushed open the overly creaky door. Clearly, someone had been in here recently, or the whole thing didn't have a lock on it. Did they really trust people that much? or had some idiot just forgotten to replace the padlock?
There was a space for a padlock there. He safely assumed that was the reason they could get in, then. One of the counsellors had probably checked the place that morning, and left with the padlock in their pocket. The thought of it brought a chuckle out of him.
"What's funny?" Steph asked, turning to face him.
"Oh, nothing... Just, we got in here so easily, made me think of who's walking around with the padlock and keys in their back pocket..."
Steph laughed too, shaking her head. "They really don't care, do they?"
"Unless you're packing your own snacks, or you're going out into the woods to make out... No. No, I don't think they do."
"Oh! Speaking of, did you see whereabouts they stored your stuff?"
Pete hummed, trying to think back. He remembered complaining a ton more than he probably did, though most of that probably never came out. He didn't think he remembered watching the counsellor stash the contraband from him and the other kids, but there was a limited number of lockers in which it could be anyway. "Uh, no, I don't think so, but... There's not a lot of places we could check..."
"I know, I just don't wanna bust open all the lockers and shit cos then they'll think they've been robbed."
"All the way out in the Witchwood?"
"... Yeah, good point." Even still, she tried to apply a little logic to this. When she was there, she didn't see anyone actually get up to move anything to a locker. So, in those lockers must be spare shirts and that plastic bin full of phones. "Is there a desk drawer or something?"
Pete walked around the other side of the desks, and nodded. "Two of em." He tried both, but one was stuck tight, and the other was empty. "It's the bottom one. Someone's locked it."
Steph knelt down and gave it her own assessment. Not that she didn't believe Pete, it was just that she needed to gauge just how flimsy the lock was, and whether they could break it with a good enough pull. After trying for a while and getting no further, she reached under her hat and pulled a Bobby pin from her hair. She wedged it open with a finger, and jammed it into the key hole.
She and Pete were at that much of a close proximity that their knees almost brushed together when she crouched lower to the ground. He noticed this first and shuffled back a little, if not just to give her a little space.
"Hey, no, you don't have to-" she started, but then realised she had no way of following up. I don't mind being close to you... You're making me feel way less alone right now...
But she resigned it anyway, and watched Pete change position before shuffling the pin and getting that satisfying click she was waiting for.
Pete's eyes widened. Steph pulled open the drawer, and started sifting through the confiscated items. Eventually, Pete pointed out a ziplock bag full of little chocolate bars, and Steph managed to free it from underneath everything else. "This it?"
"Yeah that's all I brought."
"Hide it in the pocket of your shorts. They'll never notice."
Pete nodded dutifully and slipped the bag into the largest pocket of his shorts. He couldn't help the smile that followed.
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tennessoui · 8 months
Note
I know that Gffa werewolf Obi-Wan is not omegaverse, but what if the force decided it wanted to enter it's grandparent era, like in What's Mine if Yours is Ours? Anakin also thinks werewolf Obi-Wan in the creche is the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen, so a "the force doesn't work like that" pregancy (and c-section birth) wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened to him. 
Random person: Obi-wan, you consider yourself a monster because of the whole werewolf thing, right? Obi-Wan: Of course. Random person (who apparently has a death wish): Right, right. So, does that mean your child will also be a monster if they are a werewolf? Obi-Wan: *slow blinks*  Obi-Wan: *books mind healer appointment* Obi-Wan and Anakin: *dispose of rando's body* Obi-Wan: No
oh this is tempting this is tempting but I’m gonna say no to the mpreg like with no to the omegaverse we are aiming for a delicate balance of “needs to use the squick tag” and “it’s fine not to” and mpreg would absolutely tip it over
plus I think I like that they’re Jedi in every other way except for this incredibly dangerous attachment but everyone’s like well I guess it’s fine….we watched him struggle against his instincts for so long we can look the other way in regards to him taking a mate
(After all, the Code says nothing against mates. Just marriages 😏)
Either of them having a baby would probably be a step too far to continue to be Jedi. Obi-Wan has his hands full enough as it is with all the younglings in the creche he can’t possibly look after a pregnant anakin, and Anakin would have nightmares about how protective and demanding a pregnant Obi-Wan would be. The Force can go have another kid and play the game again if it wants grandchildren so bad
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lavenderacademia · 14 days
Text
beneath the ice (peter prior)
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pairing: peter prior x fem!reader
summary: sometimes following a lead can be a deadly pursuit with unforseen circumstances. especially in ennis.
wc: 4k
warnings: situations of peril (description of a near drowning), swearing, blood, hospitals, peter and kayla r separated and getting a divorce sorryyy, kissing/making out
author's note: HI SORRY I DISAPPEARED FOR FOREVER HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU. i started college last fall so i guess i just got caught up in the swing of things and really lost my game, but here i am! can't promise i won't disappear again as i still do have to finish up the semester (and i may be writing an original novel *winky face*) but i just HAD to come on here and rant because the true detective brainrot is real guys. so so real. i was literally looking for content after the first ep and i was like wait...it doesn't even exist yet which is SO CRAZY because usually i write for/obsess over characters with so much content already out there so like. i guess i gotta make the content this time??? let me know if you want more peter fics because the brainrot is REALLLL. okay, love you! hope you enjoy!
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"This is a bad idea."
"Yeah, probably."
Y/N had had it up to here with Peter's complaints. They stood at the edge of the frozen lake, their flashlights beaming over the glassy surface. It was around three o'clock, the sixth day of dark. Y/N still didn't feel fully adjusted to the constant darkness, especially with the case of the Tsalal station in full force. Sleep was a rare commodity nowadays, and she usually relied on that sleep to keep her sense of night and day in check. She wasn't getting any of that now.
"We're not going to be able to see anything from here," she muttered, squinting out at the lake. She took a tentative step off the snowy edge and tested the ice, putting half her weight on it to see if it would hold.
Peter saw what she was thinking before she did it, and he was going to do his damned best not to let it happen. "You're not going out there."
Y/N looked back at him. "I used to be a dancer, remember? I'm light on my feet."
"You were a tap dancer."
"Same difference."
She put one foot on the ice, taking a step forward. There was a little creaking sound as the ice adjusted to her weight, but it held. Peter caught her arm before she could take another. "Y/N."
She pursed her lips. "You can come with me if you want, but it might only hold one of us. Your choice."
"We'll call someone. We'll call Danvers, or—"
"We're here now. We might as well get out there and start looking."
He didn't like this idea. He did not like this plan. But Y/N had, seemingly, set on it. There wasn't much he could do now to stop her. He couldn't beat her, and joining her would probably make things worse. All he could do now was watch her. "Stay close to the edge."
Y/N grinned. "I knew you'd come around."
She turned and aimed her beam of light at the glassy ice, taking a few, slow steps forward. She could see straight through the glass now, to the rocky bottom below. If her lead was right...something would be here. Awena Lake. Something was here.
She traversed farther and farther onto the frozen surface, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She was far. Too far, in Peter's opinion. He was about to call out to her when suddenly she stopped, staring down at a place in the ice.
What he didn't know was that she was staring down at a face.
She whispered something her voice quiet, terrified. Then, a scream. Y/N fell to her knees, punching at the ice, trying to break through.
"Y/N!"
She heard Peter calling her name, but she could only focus on breaking through that ice. Punched and punched and punched until her knuckles split and suddenly the ice below her was getting painted with blood every time she brought a fist down. She was almost in a trance, beating away at the solid glacial matter that just wouldn't break.
But then, of course, it did.
It happened so quick that Peter couldn't missed it if he blinked at the wrong moment. One second he was taking slow, cautious steps onto the ice, heading to get Y/N before she did something really stupid. The next second there was a sound like breaking plaster and a splash, and Y/N disappeared under the ice.
She felt hands grasping at her, trying to pull her down. And a voice—there was definitely a voice. She couldn't quite make it out. She opened her mouth to scream back, and as the cold water rushed into her lungs, her lips formed one question: what happened to you?
Her vision went black before she got an answer.
Music. The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the music. And the fact that she was warm, when the last thing she remembered being was really f-cking cold. Her eyelids stuck together as she slowly blinked open, the dim lighting of the hospital room slowly coming into focus. She tried to flex her fingers and found them stiff as ice (no pun intended). She saw the white bandage wrapped around her hands, purple bruises around her wrist and near the tips of her fingers. Jesus. She'd done some damage on that ice.
The fucking music. It was some oldie—70s, probably. It was playing softly from the corner, and she turned her stiff neck to see Peter slumped in a chair, staring down at his phone. What a loser. She cleared her throat to test her voice.
"If you're on TikTok right now, I'll fucking kill you."
Peter jumped at the sudden sound, his phone clattering to the ground. Y/N laughed, though it quickly turned into a wheezy cough. She sat up, a bandaged hand covering her mouth as she continued to choke. Peter rushed to her side, filling up a paper cup with the water pitcher on the bedside table. He handed it to her and she waited for the coughs to dissipate a bit before taking a gulp of the cold water. She sucked in a breath and found her ribs fighting back against the stretch. Everything was sore. Which, she reminded herself, was her own fault.
"Do you want me to call the doctor?" he asked, dragging the chair closer to sit beside her.
Y/N shook her head. "Nah. M'fine."
He gave her a look, and she clarified, "As fine as I can be."
Peter looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but held it back. Y/N noticed a manila file on the other side of her and raised an eyebrow, reaching for it. Even leaning over caused her ribs to scream back in pain, but the snatched the folder anyway, flipping it open to see her own medical chart. "Hypothermia, boxer's fracture in both hands, ventricular fibrillation...Jesus. Okay, so I did some damage. My bad."
"What the fuck, Y/N?"
She looked up from her file. Peter had a look on his face she couldn't quite parse. Anger? Pity? Whatever it was, it was heightened by the fact that his under eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them. He stood up, pacing a bit. "Can you stop treating this like it's some fucking joke? You fell through the ice. I had to call Danvers and tell her you almost got yourself killed following some shit lead. You know what she said?"
Y/N stayed silent, fearing that whatever she said would make things worse.
"She asked me why the fuck I didn't stop you."
Y/N wanted to bite back, to yell that it wasn't his responsibility to tell her what to do and what not to do. But, she reminded herself, he probably knew that. It didn't matter. If Danvers said he should've stopped her, he should've stopped her. At least, that's probably how it went in his mind.
She said nothing. Eventually Peter shook his head, muttering something under his breath before going back on his phone. Y/N stared at her own hands, dragging her finger over a little spot of blood that had begun to peek through it. She tried to shift herself a bit and a pain shot through her ankle. She grimaced, hissing lightly at the sting. She pulled her blanket aside and looked down, her stomach twisting when she saw a purple bruise surrounding her right ankle. Almost like a hand.
"Geez. What, did you drag me out by my ankles?" she said to Peter.
"What?" he replied, not looking up, "no, I grabbed your hand."
"Then what the hell is that?"
She pointed, and Peter's eyes followed where she was indicating. "Maybe you kicked something," he offered, "you were trying to swim back up to the surface."
Y/N frowned, something nagging in the back of her mind. "No I wasn't."
"Yes, you did. I saw you."
"No, I was dragged."
Peter shook his head, as if trying to make the words coming out of her mouth form a logical sentence. "What?"
The memory came flooding back to Y/N. The moment just before she started punching at the ice. The face. "I saw her."
"Saw who?"
"Annie."
Peter stilled, his jaw loosening ever so slightly. He looked at Y/N, and for a moment he wondered if the hypothermia had gotten to her brain. "What?"
"Annie K. I saw her under the ice, so I tried to go down and get her."
"Y/N, Annie's-"
"She's fucking dead, I know," she snapped. "But I saw her, alright? I wouldn't start punching solid ice for nothing."
And now Peter was left in a conundrum. On the one hand, Y/N wouldn't lie about something like this. He trusted her that far at the very least. But what she was saying she saw...that went beyond reasonable explanation. He looked at her hands, remembering how they looked just after he pulled her out of the ice. Raw and bloody and bruised. He saw the way she was punching at that ice. It was desperate. No logical person would fuck up their hands like that for a lie. She was really reaching for something. For someone, if that's what she says.
There was still one issue: Danvers wouldn't hear it. They saw how far Trooper Navarro got when she tried to bring Annie's name into the equation. Zero tolerance. They couldn't expect any more grace from the chief.
"You don't have to believe me-"
"I do, Y/N. I do."
She was a little surprised at that. She'd expected Peter to tell her she was crazy. Nevertheless, she could take his belief and run with it. "Then help me," she said, her voice stern. "Follow this lead with me as far as it can go. We don't have to tell Danvers, and if it leads nowhere it leads nowhere. Just don't make me do it on my own."
Conundrum #2: Does he stay on the sidelines or jump through that ice with her?
Fuck it. It's gonna be cold either way.
"Fine."
Y/N's lips turned up into a small smile. Before she could respond, though, one of their co-workers, Lissy, popped her head in the door. "Hey, Prior. You're relieved of L/N duty."
Y/N sat up in bed, giving Peter a look. "L/N duty?"
He gave a sheepish shrug. "Would it help if I said I volunteered?"
"Get out of here. Smartass."
Danvers came eventually to swear at her and ask what the hell she'd been thinking. She gave Danvers the real, honest answer, which was that she wasn't. She'd probably take that better than a lie.
But eventually, of course, she had to.
"And what the hell made you start punchin' that ice?"
Y/N paused. "I thought I saw something, but it was—it wasn't—"
"Well, what?" Danvers snapped. "What was it? Wasn't it?"
"It was nothing, okay? It was a false lead."
That was hard to say, even if it wasn't true.
The highlight of the whole situation was that, at the very least, Y/N's circadian rhythm had gone back to somewhat normal. She looked over files until around eleven o'clock at night when she couldn't keep her eyes open for more than ten seconds at a time. Trying to sleep was a battle for a moment, what with the sore everything and the hands that could barely grasp at the blankets to pull them up to her chin. But eventually exhaustion won out, and she fell asleep to the gentle hum of the hospital's heating system.
And though she never really had in her life, she dreamed.
She dreamed that she was back under the ice, the rocks beneath her feet, crystal clear water swallowing her hole. And there was Annie, beckoning her further and further out. She swam for her until her muscles burned. The further out Annie took her, the darker the water got, and the colder and colder she felt. It got so dark and so cold that she couldn't see Annie at all. It was only when she squinted that she could see her hands in front of her face, and she watched in horror as frost crept over her skin and nipped at her blood.
When Y/N jolted awake, it took her embarrassingly long to realize she was standing on the roof of the hospital. Her bare feet were buried in the snow, the tips of her toes hanging over the edge, five stories above Ennis. A yelp tore out of her mouth before she could stop it, her balance wavering for a single, terrifying moment.
She stepped down from the ledge as soon as she got her bearings, the wind blowing right through her hospital gown and stinging her skin. She stumbled back into the hospital, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to recover from the intense cold, all the while wondering how the hell she got up there.
There was seemingly only one answer: she brought me there.
Peter's kitchen table was littered with crime scene photos. Darwin toddled on the floor, playing with his stuffed elephant, while Peter brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Y/N was so focused that she didn’t notice as Darwin stood and reached his little hand up, grasping for the photos. His fingertips found purchase and he started to pull a particularly bloody photo off the table. Y/N snatched it out of his grasp just before he could be scarred for life and Darwin let out a little giggle.
“Close call, little man,” she said, “that would’ve taken a lot of therapy to unsee.”
Darwin stuck his tongue out at her. She stuck hers out back.
“Kayla should be on her way to come get him. She's trying to beat the storm,” Peter said, scooping Darwin up and carrying him safely away from the photos. They sat down between the couch and the fireplace, and Y/N, suddenly craving a break from the blood and gore, got up to go meet them.
"You guys doing okay?" she asked as she sat cross-legged beside Darwin. "You and Kayla?"
She could tell immediately that she hit a nerve. Peter's eyes darted away from Darwin instantly, his gaze instead setting on the fire. He didn't answer for a moment, and for a moment Y/N thought maybe he was acting like he didn't hear her. "We, uh...we separated."
Y/N frowned. "What?"
"Two months ago. Maybe two and a half."
He picked up the fire poker and stoked the flames—not because they needed to be, but because if he didn't have something to do with his hands he'd go crazy.
Y/N didn't quite know what to say. She remembered when her parents separated, but she was too little to do much about it. Too young to think about comforting them.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Peter just shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal. "It was coming eventually. We just finally owned up to it."
"Still. It sucks."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a moment. Darwin handed the elephant over to Y/N to make way for his sudden interest in picking out the fuzzies in the carpet.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm becoming increasingly concerned that my ice plunge gave me walking pneumonia."
That didn't make it better, but it did get him to laugh.
They played with Darwin and generally avoided the topic of work until there was a knock at the door. A hush seemed to fall over them, reality setting back in. Peter got up, taking Darwin with him, and Y/N went back to the kitchen table. She made herself busy (or, at the very least, she made herself look busy) with files.
Peter opened the door with Darwin in one arm, Darwin's weekend backpack in the other. Kayla stood there on the other side. She grinned and cooed as she took Darwin, but the grin faded when it became clear that she had to interact with Peter.
Look at the files, Y/N. What's happening at the door is none of your business.
Ugh, but eavesdropping would be so fun.
"What's she doing here?" she heard Kayla say. Both she and Peter looked over to where Y/N was sitting.
Well, at least I don't have to eavesdrop.
Y/N looked up, raising an awkward hand in greeting. "Hi Kayla."
"Hi Y/N," Kayla replied. She wasn't cold, but it was clear that Y/N wasn't her favorite person in the world.
Peter said something about work, but Y/N couldn't decipher it. She went back to work, trying to block out the distant sounds of what seemed to be a heated conversation. Eventually the door closed (not slammed, luckily) and Y/N looked up. Peter stared at the wooden door for a few seconds after it had closed, like he thought it might open again. Y/N rushed to look away as he finally turned and headed in her direction. She tried not to shift as he took a seat on the side of the table closest to her, taking his own stack of files and beginning to sort through them.
After a moment, she spoke. "Aaaaare we gonna talk about that?"
"No we are not."
"Got it, got it."
They studied crime scenes. They looked at the facts. They asked a lot of wrong questions and maybe a few right ones. They got so deep into the case of the Tsalal men that they didn't realize when the clock struck three in the morning just as Peter was about to brew a new pot of coffee.
"Huh," was all Y/N could manage to say when she saw the time.
"Huh," Peter agreed.
She looked outside, which at this time of night was a greyish blur of falling snow moving at too many miles per hour. This was the type of storm Y/N's mother told her to watch out for. People who drove out in these either ended up wrecked or freezing to death before they made it home. "Mind if I stay the night?"
Peter nodded. "'Course."
Ten minutes later, Y/N was curled on the couch with a down comforter draped over her to block out the chill (with the help of three layers of clothes and another blanket on top). The lights were out and all she could hear was the sound of whistling wind as she drifted off to sleep.
And for the second time in years, she dreamed.
She was back under that water, cold seeping into her bones. She saw the surface just a few feet above her head, close enough to touch. She reached up, but before her frozen fingers could make contact with the frozen sheet of ice she could use to pull herself up, a hand seized her ankle and dragged her down. She screamed, but only bubbles escaped her mouth, the sound absorbed by the freezing waters that enveloped her. She rushed to suck in a breath and the water flooded in to meet her screaming lungs.
She was dying.
She looked down at the one who was dragging her, and saw someone she knew to be dead.
"Y/N..."
"Annie?" Y/N said. More bubbles. Annie just looked at her, and somehow she knew: Death was coming.
"Y/N!"
Peter's hand landed roughly on her shoulder, enough to shake her out of the dream and make her realize that she was standing outside in the swirling snow, which was getting worse by the second. She turned, and their faces were so close that their matching frozen, red noses were inches away from touching. 
“What the hell are you doing?”
Y/N made no reply, trekking back towards the house as quickly as her bare feet could take her. Annie’s eyes were still flashing across her mind every few seconds, as if trying to come back to the surface and consume her again. She wouldn’t let that happen.
As soon as the door shut behind her, the wind howling and doing its best to pry it back open again, she collapsed against it, trying to stave off cold and paranoid visions. She vaguely heard Peter mutter No, come here, as he pulled her up from the floor and guided her to the fireplace, which he promptly lit. He draped a blanket around her, then two, then three. She must’ve looked like a floating head with all the fabric covering her from the shoulders down as she curled on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest. He sat down beside her after he was satisfied she had enough to warm her up. She was shivering slightly, but the horrified look in her eyes made him wonder if that was totally from the cold. He didn’t ask. He sat, staring straight at the fire with her. That was all he could do.
“It was Annie,” Y/N said finally, her voice hoarse. “She took me out there.”
Peter didn’t respond—he was sure the explanation she would give, if she gave any, would go entirely over his head.
Y/N swallowed hard before continuing. “She’s involved in all this. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But something about Annie is still alive. Because what happened to her? That’s what happens when men get angry. But when women get angry? You end up out in the snow in the middle of the night with no idea how you got there.”
Silence.
“She’s angry. We just have to figure out why.”
Peter looked at her, color starting to bloom in her previously purple lips. She stared intently ahead as she talked, almost as if she were in a trance. When Peter reached out and took a lock of her hair gently between his fingers, she didn’t flinch. She glanced over at him, her eyes illuminated by the fire he’d set.
“Your hair froze,” was his only explanation.
Y/N looked down and saw that he was right. Little ice crystals had formed in patches of her hair. She wondered how long she’d been out there in the cold.
She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, or when the images of Annie disappeared from her mind, but in an instant Peter’s lips were on hers, and all visions of Annie floated away, replaced only by the feeling of his lips and hands.
It was only a moment before he pulled away, his eyes shut in a way that suggested he fucked up. For the second time in a week she’d nearly found herself in a life-threatening situation, and here he was playing with her hair and kissing her like a besotted middle schooler. She would be mad—she had to be.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t be,” Y/N said, pulling him back to her and kissing him again.
That was all the okay Peter needed. He pulled her to him again, this time a bit rougher, but still careful not to accidentally push any blankets off her. It was Y/N who eventually shed them, pulling him onto the couch with her. It was still too cold inside for either of them to remove any more layers they already had on (which they both found extremely unfortunate), but that didn’t stop Y/N from crawling atop him and straddling his waist to better kiss him.
After what felt like hours (but was probably only twenty minutes), they wound up that way, with Y/N laying her head on Peter’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her to hold him to her. Her heart rate was just starting to slow down when Peter spoke.
“You know I’ll help you see this through, right?” 
Y/N looked up at him. “Yeah.”
He ran a soft hand through her hair and she laid back down.
“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, probably.”
But, funnily enough, neither of them cared.
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imnotlauriane · 2 years
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WINGS UNFOLDED
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JIMIN X READER HYBRID AU
CHAPTER 1 (4.6k words)
For more information about this story, find it here
I never knew going back to school would be so intimidating, especially since it's filled with teens.
Even from up to my twenty-three years old, I still freak out when I have to get close to the younger generation, as if they would eat me up. I guess it's just hard to forget when your teen years are filled with bullying from both hybrids and humans.
I remember feet making me trip, tails flicking under my skirt to expose me, hybrids with night vision having fun locking me up in the dark and laughing as they push me around.
A lot of fun, really.
But, that's not why I'm here, that kind of thing is all behind me now. No, instead I'm here for the after-school classes that are offered here for adults, a small easy course not available to the local students, else I wouldn't go.
I was tired of not knowing what to do after work, so I thought I could do something that would force me to socialize a little, and who knows, maybe help me get over my trauma.
I can't handle being near hybrids very well, especially those with tails, or... people in general.
Working in a private laboratory hasn't really provided with ways to get over my fear, but today, today, that's all about to change, because I chose a mixed classroom. I'm going to have to stay with both humans and hy-
"Excuse me, you're blocking the way" a voice says and I jump aside, heart nearly fleeing my chest as I turn around to see a tall man bowing lightly in apology before entering the classroom.
Bringing a hand to my heart, I sigh out softly to calm myself
What a way to make a first impression. Here I was, trying to motivate myself only to fail before I even get to try, I guess some things don't change by simple sheer will.
Grabbing my bag tightly against my chest, I slowly enter the classroom and head straight for the corner further away from the door at the back of the room.
There are two tables there while all the others have four, so it's the least worst out of all the choices available to me.
I can handle one person more than I can handle three at the same time.
Probably.
I look up at the board on the front wall to see instructions about the first class that starts today, it helps to give an idea of the planning and how our time will be spent, but mainly,  it gives information about what we'll need for the future lessons.
I grab my brand-new notebook and pencil case out of my bag and set them both in front of me before opening to the first page, something exciting about filling it with interesting knowledge, I was really impatient about this class.
"Let's note these down" I mumble to myself as I grab my favorite pen with penguins on it, then proceed to write down word for word what is on the board to make sure that I don't miss anything important in the future.
It doesn't take too long before students start coming in to take random seats around the class and I try to keep my breathing slow and steady as I notice ears and tails among the many bodies, something that has my heart squeezing, the sight of humans mingling with the hybrids nothing to comfort me.
Oh man, this was such a bad idea, I can't do this.
Fingers clutching onto my pen as if it would keep the baddies away, I startle when a body suddenly appears in the corner of my eye only to stop by the desk beside mine.
"Um... is this seat taken?" a very soft voice asks and I slowly shake my head in answer, not mentally ready just yet to look up at the face of the person who owns this beautiful voice.
"... Can I sit here?" the stranger asks again and I nod, my notebook sliding away from the separation between our two desks to make more space, as if that would change anything.
"Thank you".
The person sits down on the chair next to me and I immediately get to smell a lovely odour coming from them, one I recognize well.
It turned a little, a sweeter tone to it, but it's unmistakable. "You're wearing Flower Tones, Viburnum Edition" I say as I point at my neck. "Your perfume" I add.
A soft gasp and a fluttering of... wings?
I look a bit to the side to see magnificent dark brown wings settling back in place, wide and long, they beautifully spread against the stranger's back.
It's my first time seeing wings in person as they are rare. They truly are beautiful.
"You recognized it just like that?" the voice asks and I nod, eyes finally looking up to meet the eyes of a young man who seems to be about my age, maybe a bit older? 
His white hair makes his golden eyes pop out even more and for a few seconds, I am in total awe as I stare at this gorgeous man. I have to pull myself out of it by focusing on the pen in my hand.
"I... I make perfumes. The one you're wearing right now... I made it" I mumble, hear his wings flap softly and when I look up again to meet his eyes, they are bright and excited.
"You do?! That's so amazing! I can't believe I'm seated next to a perfumer!" he exclaims, his overly happy mood transmitting to his wings as they barely keep still while he stares at me with fascination.
I blush and wave a hand in dismissal, embarrassed by the sudden outburst directed at me, a reaction I wasn't expecting.
"It's nothing much really" I let out to try and keep my head clear, his praise making my heart melt against my will. It's not everyday I hear someone praise my work with so much honesty, it's taking me by surprise.
It's also not everyday I meet someone who wears my perfume at all, it's making me very happy.
"I wish my job would be that impressive, but I just work at a print shop, take care of the regular everyday requests. Sometimes we do have special ones, like books for example, that has happened, but not frequently" he explains with a little disappointed pout, it makes my heart soften.
I smile at him, wishing he wouldn't be so hard on himself, but I can understand the urge to compare, we all feel smaller than someone, it's not always easy to be proud of what we do.
"Is there something in particular you'd like to do in life? Or are you comfortable with what you have? Either way, there's nothing wrong with working at a print shop, you help keep something alive that is slowly dying. Printing pictures, helping people achieve their goals, that has got to count for something" I tell him, watch as his eyes widen before he nods with a bright smile.
"My owner- well I say owner because he adopted me but really, he's more like an older brother, says the same. Every jobs matter, no matter how impressive they are. I don't really know what I want to do in life yet, so I guess I'm pretty content with my current situation" he explains and I hum, happy for him.
"Seems like a good... brother" I muse softly, to which he smiles with a satisfied nod of the head. "He really is".
A comfortable silence takes place between us, something I'd never had the chance to experience with someone before. It's strange, how being with him doesn't make me as tense as I would expect. Maybe my fear isn't as bad as I thought it was, or it's just something about him.
My inner wondering gets answered too soon when I look up just in time to see who appears to be the teacher enter the room and I freeze like a doe caught in headlights, heart pumping faster with each passing seconds as I stare at the cat ears, the long black tail swaying in the air, it can't be-
"Welcome everyone, I'm happy to see the class filled the way it is, your interest in my course warms my heart. My name is Min Yoongi, let's keep it simple since we're all adults here. I'll be your teacher for the next few months, every Mondays and Thursdays so I hope to see you all come back regularly" the man says with a smile, a smile that makes me sick.
I close my eyes tight to avoid panicking at the sight of the hybrid, my hands clenching into fists, pen now forgotten on the desk as I try to breathe in and out.
Of all people to be my teacher, it really had to be my worst bully.
Min Yoongi, the cat who would always follow me around to bother me, who would always try to find a new way to annoy me, hurt me, humiliate me - here as my teacher.
A hand on my shoulder and I flinch away, heart in my throat, not comfortable with any types of contact right now, I don't feel good at all.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to- are you okay? What's wrong?" the hybrid besides me asks in a whisper but I just shake my head, mind unable to formulate an answer before I end up pushing my chair back to rush out of the room, needing to get away from here right now.
Unaware of the confused eyes setting on me, I slam the door open and look around me to try and find the nearest bathroom, feeling as if I'm going to throw up, it wouldn't be the first time it happens out of panic.
Luckily for me, there's one just a few steps down the corridor so I rush there with quick feet and enter the room before hiding in the first stall I come across, head hitting against the cold door as I close and lock it in front of me.
Why did it have to be him? Does he remember me? Is he going to continue what he had to stop after graduating now that I'm within his grasp once more? Are things going to turn back to how they were, back to the nightmare that still haunts me to this day?
That was not supposed to happen. If I had paid any attention to the teacher's name when I first registered, I wouldn't have come here, I would've remained as far away from here as possible.
Now I left my bag in class and I can't leave without it, not when my phone, wallet and keys are in it.
I hit my head against the door once more, breath getting out of control as I realize how fucked I am, but then I start feeling dizzy so I sit on the toilet. Now's not the time to lose your mind Y/N, damn it.
Okay. Calm down, you're an adult, you both are. He probably matured since then, it's over, it's in the past, panicking won't change anything, you need to go back if you want your belongings, just that small task then you're out of here.
First, you need to calm down, breathe in. 2. 3. 4. Out. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Again.
Keeping the rhythm as constant as I can, I slowly get my bearings back and once sure that I won't be sick, I stand up from the toilet to get out of the stall to reach the sink and then throw some water over my face and neck, the cold helping me to focus on something else for a moment.
Just don't look at him. Grab your bag and get out. Maybe another school offers the same course, or I could ask if the other class for humans has another teacher, the days would change but I'd be away from him, hopefully.
Shaking my head, that's something I can think about once I'm at home, I step out of the bathroom only to bump into a chest.
Staggering backwards from the impact, hands reach out to grab me by the shoulders to stabilize me and I look up to see the very person I wanted to stay away from. Fuck.
Ready to run away, I make a move to get out of his hold but his fingers squeeze to keep me in place, his face showing round eyes who look just as panicked as I feel.
"L-let me go" I stutter out, heart going out of control again, what is he going to do this time? Just why-
"You're Y/N right? Ahn Y/N?" he asks suddenly and I freeze, mind filling with fear at what might follow. He remembers me so what's going to happen now? What will he try first? I try to shake free again but he still won't let go of me.
"Please, listen to me first" he pleads, voice filled with guilt and I still, his tone sounding almost ready to beg, it doesn't fit, Yoongi doesn't plead, Yoongi just... takes.
"I promise you, Y/N, I just want to talk, please hear me out".
Can I trust that voice? Can I trust what I hear right now more than what I remember from him? Can I afford to trust him like that? What if it's a trap?
When his hands release me slowly, I take a few steps away from him and keep my eyes locked on the floor, not ready to meet his, but I give him a chance, so I stay. 
He heaves a sigh of relief when he processes that I'm still not running away, but doesn't quite relax, his tail nervous as it sways behind him.
"Thank you, I... I knew you were in my class but I wasn't sure if you knew I was your teacher, I figured you didn't since you never called to cancel. Um... I'm sorry. Really, for everything I did in the past. I know I was a total ass to you, I was terrible and you didn't deserve any of that.
I was going through a rough time and you just so happened to be an easy prey, but I shouldn't have done that, I really regret everything I've done, Y/N. I promise I'm not the same anymore, so please don't cancel the class because of me, I know you'd love what we'll be doing" he says slowly, each words thought out and precise, but they sound sincere.
Did he expect this conversation to happen? I guess he did, he knows me well after all, he had time to test a lot of theories on me.
Feeling the tears about to burst free, I sniffle and rub my eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him, not anymore, I've done that enough, but then my eyes notice the way his tail expresses how worried he is as it curls around his own arm and if that isn't proof that he's saying the truth, then I can at least believe the vulnerability of his voice. It's not easy to apologize the way he just did.
Not knowing what to say in response to his apology, I decide to simply head back to the classroom, Yoongi silent as he follows behind me.
Knowing that all eyes are going to be on me as soon as I enter the room, I brace myself and open the door only to find everyone focused on drawing individually at their desk. A few heads look up, yes, but nothing more than in reaction to the sound of the door before they focus back on the paper in front of them.
The only one who looks up and keeps his eyes locked on me is the white haired hybrid, golden orbs concerned as he observes me come back to the desk besides his.
The door closes once Yoongi has entered too and I can feel him staring at me, probably wondering what I'm going to do after all when the back of my head burns as I reach out for my chair before sitting down.
"Are you okay?" the soft man asks and I nod slowly, feeling awkward because of what he saw from me. He must think me crazy now.
"It's nothing, sorry about earlier" I mumble, see him shake his head, not convinced but knowing that pushing is a limit to not cross, he keeps it simple when he replies. "It's fine, don't worry about it".
I take a quick look around me to try and guess what is going on when he points at the drawing in front of him.
"Yoongi hyu- I mean Yoongi ssi asked us to draw something, anything we want so he can determine our level. He says he does that so he can adjust his expectations depending on how comfortable we are with drawing, it's also to show us our progress when the course ends" he explains and I nod with a tiny smile before deciding that the best way to get over what just happened is to focus on this task.
That's why I came here after all, to draw, didn’t I?
With an encouraging nod to myself, I slide the paper already resting on my desk closer to me and then grab my set of drawing pencils before getting to it.
Letting go of my worries to draw whatever comes to mind, I start drawing a flower.
A sunflower, to be more precise, for the simple reason that it’s my favorite, there’s something comforting about it.
Always following the sun, chasing it with all its might, Grandma always had ones growing in her garden, I guess it had an impact on why I love them so much. They just bring a smile to my face so easily.
I try to add as many details as I can, all my efforts pushed into doing good for this first task and once done, I stare at it, take in the things I could’ve done better, it's not perfect but... it could’ve been worse.
“Oh! Is that a sunflower? It looks almost real, it’s beautiful!" the lovely hybrid praises as he gazes over and I smile, my tension running out of my body slowly as I finally get to relax a little, my shock from earlier now out of mind.
There's something soothing about him, it helps me a lot. It’s not stressful being seated next to him.
I eye his drawing too, find there a tree, a big weeping willow tree.
I observe in awe, marveled that he could draw one with such precision and skills, it makes my sunflower look very terrible next to it, even though I did my best. He’s surely not a beginner like me.
"Yours looks beautiful. I love these trees, there’s something oddly comforting and protective about being within one’s curtain of leaves, it's very well done" I tell him, see the way his eyes crease happily as he hums shyly.
"Thank you" he whispers, happy with the compliment, he must’ve worked hard after all, it always feels nice when someone notices.
When time runs out, we’re asked to write our name in a corner of our paper and to bring it to the teacher's desk, something I wish I could avoid entirely.
I still don’t really know how to feel about all this, my best bet for now is to stay away from Yoongi while I figure something out, but I can’t really ignore the given task, can I?
Sensing my apprehension, the male hybrid smiles at me and tentatively takes my paper from my hands, obviously offering to bring it with his and I gratefully nod as I let go of it, eyes following his form as he walks to the front of the class to leave our drawings on the desk before coming back just as fast, eyes always smiling no matter what he’s doing.
Once he sits back down next to me, he turns his attention to me, curiosity in his clear orbs.
"I just realized that we didn't even introduce ourselves yet, I saw your name on the paper, Ahn Y/N, right? My name is Park Jimin, it's very nice to meet you" he chirps while offering me a hand in an act of greetings.
Mind processing that indeed, we had yet to learn the other’s name until now, I softly grab his hand for a small handshake before pulling back to hide my fingers under my thighs, a little awkward, I’m not used to this.
"It’s... it’s nice to meet you too, Jimin" I reply in a murmur, a smile peeking onto my face at the cute little flap his wings do, which betrays his joy even though his face hides none of it.
"Alright, I can see that most of you are already pretty skilled. For those of you finding this harder, don't worry, we're here to learn, there's nothing bad with being a little behind. We'll follow your rhythm and work on the bases. Now let's proceed with-" Yoongi starts explaining a few lessons and I try to listen to the best of my abilities, as hard as it is. 
It’s like his voice keeps merging with the past, words that sound similar to others making me fidgety on my seat, it’s one thing being with him in the same room when it’s silent, but it’s another when having to focus entirely on what he’s saying.
Whenever it becomes harder to focus on his words, my ears ringing loudly in my head as my brain becomes confused between the past Yoongi and today's Yoongi, Jimin is always there to show me what we have to do, no judging, no questions asked, just sweet and reassuring smiles.
I’m really thankful for him, I don’t think I could’ve gotten a better desk-neighbor.
The end of the class happens without anymore problems and I sigh in relief when I see students start leaving the room, hybrids and humans alike, it gives me more space to breathe without feeling that annoying weight over my ribcage.
Yoongi stares at me for a few seconds before excusing himself as well, his feet taking him out of the room and that’s the cherry on the cake, my muscles relaxing instantly, although nothing will beat being back home where it’s safe.
Jimin shoots me a concerned glance, easily seeing the obvious shift in my body at the class emptying before he’s switching to a pleasant smile as he starts gathering his belongings to put in his bag and I do the same, eager to get out of here.
"So, what did you think of today's first lesson? I'm excited about all the things we're going to learn, what about you?" he chirps to try and lift the heavy mood as we exit the classroom to head out of the building, a comfortable companionship between the two of us as we reach the stairs.
I nod with a soft hum. "It was interesting, I definitely have a lot to improve, I just hope I find the will to come back regularly" I reply, eyes staring down at the floor when I feel his gaze fall on me in confusion.
"Are you already thinking about possibly quitting? But you're so good" he mutters sadly, his tone disappointed at the prospect of me not coming back, it has me pinching my lips, unsure of how to react, of what to say.
"It's not... it's not because of my skills. I... I mean you could see it, right? I don't handle very well being surrounded by people" I explain simply, feel his eyes burn the side of my head at the revelation.
"But you seem fine with me. I mean, I could see how nervous you were when I first arrived, but that didn't last for too long" he wonders aloud, a soft smile spreading on his plump lips at the thought.
His wings stretch lightly behind the two of us before neatly folding back in place at his back, the silence between us making him feel uneasy.
I look up once we reach the last step of the stairs and pull the door leading out open, step aside to allow him through first, which he thanks me for before waiting on the other side for me, a hand going to hold the door above my head as I too step through the doorframe.
I sigh, feet resuming the walk towards the parking lot. "I don't know, I guess there's something calming about you? I haven't really met any bird hybrids until now so maybe it keeps my personal experiences from using you against me, it would be a first" I finally reply to his comment and he bites on his bottom lip as he processes my words.
"Do you have bad memories with hybrids? Is that why you panicked earlier? Our class has many of them, me included, won't that be hard for you?" he asks, a hand then going to slap over his mouth as his eyes widen.
"I’m sorry, it's totally fine if you don't want to reply to that one, I can be too curious sometimes. Jin hyung is still trying to make me learn when it's time to shut up" he mumbles, his last words pulling a short laugh out of me. 
"He sounds lovely" I muse, happy for the opening to change the subject, which he catches on quickly when he starts laughing.
"He is. He whines a lot but he takes care of me well. I'm sure you two would be great friends if you ever met, he always says those awful dad jokes and whenever we laugh, he thinks it's because he's funny, but really, it’s his laugh that ends us. He sounds like a windshield wiper, you should hear him" he jokes with his honey giggle, eyes shining as he recounts memories he shares with that man.
Hearing him talk as we get near the cars fills my heart with warmth and just for that little moment, I'm glad that I stayed after all.
"That's the car I use. Do you have a ride? I can drive you home if you want" he offers as he stops by a shiny car but I shake my head, a smile on my lips, I’ve been doing that a lot with him, smiling.
"I’m fine, I came with a car myself, thank you for offering though, it’s very nice of you" I answer while pointing at mine, a little further away from his.
It's an older model than his own, but it doesn't look too shabby. He nods back, eyes curious as he leans lightly to the side to have a look at the one I’m pointing at.
"Well, maybe sometimes we can come here together, I don't mind fetching you and driving you back" he offers, not about to give up on his idea and I grin, this hybrid's infectious smile already growing on me.
"Maybe someday? I make no promises though” I tease him before taking a step back. “I guess I'll see you in three days then" I add with a wave of the hand before turning around to reach my car.
"That means you're coming back right? No changing your mind!" he shouts as I unlock my door. I don't reply and simply wave my hand one last time before getting inside, a smile on my lips, heart light and at peace.
Yeah, I can see myself becoming good friend with him.
Park Jimin, the eagle hybrid.
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