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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

“How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

“At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

If they were, they’d see his scales.

He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

To him.

The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

How dreadful.

Then, of course, there are the lies.

‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

They see the masks.

Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

Which is how he ended up here.

“You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

“No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

“What have we said about impersonations?”

He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

“Oi!”

“—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Janus!”

“What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

“There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

“Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

“And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

“Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

“Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

“Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

“Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

“At least four.”

Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

Janus is very, very good at making masks.

He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

He’s not supposed to hurt them.

Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

The rest of him—

…well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

He wants.

Janus is selfish.

But he isn’t stupid.

He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

But Thomas does.

So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

Janus can’t afford to be slow.

So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

…and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

And that is certainly very likely indeed.

The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

Are they ever?

He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

One minute.

His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

Thirty seconds.

The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

“I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

“I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

“Janus?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“Are you…are you feeling alright?”

Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Slow. Too slow.

Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

“I am entirely in one piece.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

“This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

Everything stops.

Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

“Janus? Janus!”

Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

“You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

“You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

“You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

“You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak.

“You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

“Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

“And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

“I’m…”

The mask won’t let him apologize.

Like they would ever accept it.

“No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

Oh, Virgil…

Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

“What?”

“I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

You take care of yourself.

The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth.

Virgil turns around.

“Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

“Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

“This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Sit. C’mon”

Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

“I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

“Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

“ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

“Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

“Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

“Says the loudmouth!”

“Roman, stop it.”

“Stop moving his arm!”

What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

“Good going, Remus.”

“You were the one yelling!”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

“What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

“I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

“Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

“Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

“Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

“Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

“There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

“What the hell, Pat.”

“Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

“Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

“Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

“I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

“Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

“I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

Janus’s mouth drops open.

There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

“If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

“Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

It’s warm. It’s so warm.

He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

What…?

Oh.

As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

It’s so warm.

And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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5am-the-foxing-hour · 3 years

Text

The Adventures 2020

X-mas (December 24th) Gift giving

Year 2020’s Adventures

5 parter, each part posted on advent: 1st 29th November, 2nd 6th December, 3rd 13th December and 4th 20rd December and the last part on Christmas 24th of December

- - -

Characters: all of them, orange side being a cryptid again.

Words: 1591

Warnings: no warnings I believe.

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General Fanfic Tag list: @ebony-wolf, @nashiraneko, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @rabbitsartcorner, @punsterterry, @sleepyssnail, @nightmaresides, @virgilswritings, @ninja-girl2846, @ninjago2020, @starryfirefliesbloggo, @garecc, @sympatheticdeceit, @cookiethedevil, @askthesnake, @all-bridges-will-burn, @tacohippy56900, @little-euro-girl, @aggressiveshipper, @imbasicallyshakespear, @slayerofspiders, @prinssess61, @underthesea73, @suicidalcitrusfruit, @sander-side-stuff, @franthehorsegir, @kingpridesanders, @multi-fandoms-posts

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The others were gathered in the living room, sitting around the christmas tree. All having one present before them.

“Can’t we start now?” Roman whined.

“No, we have to wait for Remus and Janus.” Logan said

“Uuuuuuuuugh but they have no concept of time!” Roman groaned as he let himself fall back to the floor to lie down, arms crossed and pouting.

“Now, now Roman.” Patton said as he patted Roman on the knee. “I’m sure they’re on their way.”

“SNAKEY! GET OUT OF BED!” A voice suddenly shouted from upstairs, unmistakingly belonging to a certain duke

“GET YOUR FILTHY PAWS OFF ME!” Came another voice, just as loud and more hysterical clearly belonging to Janus, a screech followed.

It didn’t take long before Remus came thundering down the stairs holding a loudly cursing Janus, who was bundled up in a bright yellow fluffy blanket, in his arms.

“We’re here!” Remus cheered as he unceremoniously dropped Janus down between Thomas and Patton. Janus hissed louder as he grabbed his blanket and glared at Remus with murder in his eyes.

“Remus, I swear, you better keep your snacks hidden or I will change them for Healthy food!” Janus snarled.

“NO! NOT MY SNACKS!” Remus cried holding his hands protectively before himself.

“Everyone here now?” Thomas asked.

“Is…?” Logan started turning to Janus.

“No, he hid even harder from Remus so I doubt he will show face.” Janus grumbled into his hand that he was leaning his jaw against, as he made himself a bit more comfortable on the floor.

“Then yes, everyone is here.” Logan said and nodded at Thomas. Thomas smiled and sighed in relief, as Roman cheered and sat up, only to snort at the birds nest that was Janus’s hair.

“No hat?”

“No, because someone didn’t have time to let me finish preparing for the day.”

“You were taking too long!” Remus nagged. Janus just clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Virgil sighed, and Logan rolled his eyes before he clapped his hands to gain everyone's attention.

“Since everyone is here now, why don’t we get this year's secret Santa started?” A chorus of agreements followed and soon the sides and Thomas waited as Janus summoned his hat after Roman sent him some puppy eyes to use it to draw the name on who was to hand over their present first.

“Virgil.” Logan read from the piece of paper he had taken from the bowler hat. Virgil grimaced before he huffed

“Well… better to get it over with… I had you Logan...” Virgil said as he summoned a package, wrapped in purple paper with white stars, he handed it over to the other side who took it in surprise.

“Are we opening the gifts now or are we waiting til everyone got theirs?” Thomas asked.

“It’s more fun to open them together.” Patton said with a smile.

Logan carefully placed the purple present down on the floor, before he picked up a present wrapped in dark blue paper.

“I had you Janus.” Logan said as he handed the present over. Janus blinked before one arm appeared from the blankets and took the present, a small chuckle left him as he thought he had an idea on what it was Logan had given him.

“Thank you.” Janus said as he put the present down. “Roman I had you.”

“Oh… yay...” Roman said only to yelp when two of Janus’s arms suddenly appeared from the floor holding a big yellow box. Roman gaped as he took it, missing how Janus’s arms disappeared back into the floor. Roman floundered a bit before he put down the big box and took out a smaller red present. “I had you Thomas.” Roman said as he handed over the red present to Thomas, while Patton cooed at how small it was.

“Aw it’s so small and cute~” Thomas chuckled at Patton’s comment before he took the gift, not really surprised that he could touch it.

“Did you and Janus work together on this one?”

“Not at all, I totally didn’t make you forget ever buying that thing.” Janus said with a smile. while Roman chuckled and rubbed at his neck.

“Well, I had you Patton.” Thomas said before he told Patton to hold his hands open and then concentrated, a rainbow coloured present plopped down on top of Patton’s palms and he squealed.

“Oh I’m sure I’ll love this!” he said as he put it down and brought forth a baby blue present from behind his back and held it out to Remus. “I had you Remus. Here.”

“Oh goodie!” Remus cackled as he took it only to blink when he felt that it was a soft present. He squeezed the paper a bit, a grin growing on his lips. “Here raccoon.” He said distractedly as one of his tentacles held out a badly wrapped gift painted green with acrylic paint to Virgil. Virgil took it with a startled yelp, grimacing when he felt how the paint was still wet.

“Ugh.. thanks...”

“LET*S OPEN THEM!” Remus and Roman called at the same time, causing Patton, Janus and Thomas to chuckle.

Getting a nod of approval it didn’t take long for Remus to tear into his present, to find a neon green knitted scarf, it didn’t look the best but he held it up and gaped, before he squealed and hugged it close, before happily wrapping it around his neck and bit into one end of it, chewing the chick wool. Patton chuckled at the sight before a loud gasp from Roman made them look over to find how Roman was taking out a huge stuffed lion, pale yellow with a bright red mane and green eyes and Roman’s logo on a necklace around the neck.

“Where did you get this?!”

“I uh… made it.” Janus said as he rubbed at his hands, gloves covering all the patches that took up his fingers from where he stabbed himself with the needle. Janus couldn’t help the blush that grew on his cheeks when Roman gave him the biggest most happy smile in years.

Patton opened his gift next, a happy sob leaving him when he saw the little stuffed frog, glittering blue in the light and a pair of big blue eyes, a pair of glasses and the cat hoodie around it’s throat.

“It’s meee...” he sniffled.

“Yeah, I know the first time was a bit of a bad moment, so I wanted to get you something to help you feel better about it. Logan and Roman helped me figure out how to make it.”

“I love it.” Patton mumbled as he hugged the soft frog close.

The sound of tearing present paper was heard followed by a chuckle.

“I knew it. Thank you Logan.” Janus said as he held a thick book in his hand. “I don’t suppose you want to go through it at a later date and discuss the content.”

“I would lo- like that.” Logan said with a small smile.

“So THAT’s where that lego set went” Thomas said, having opened his own present to find one of the several lego sets he bought before him. “Thanks guys.”

Logan opened his own present and blinked down at a space themed cup with a bundle of book marks filling it up, all holding different constellations on them.

“I heard you grumble about running out of book marks last time you and the snake had your book talks, and you keep using your favourite cup so often it’s always in the dishwasher.” Virgil murmured “It’s not much but-”

“Thank you Virgil.”

Virgil looked down at the sticky present Remus gave him, before he sighed and snapped his fingers to make the paint dry, before he unwrapped it, cursing every piece of tape he found. Before he found a bag full of stim toys, he picked up a fidget cube the same size as a rubik's cube, instantly pressing all the buttons. Remus caught sight of it and grinned.

The evening found them all still in the living room, snuggled tight as they watched the Polar express, Logan’s request. In queue was the first Grinch movie, A Christmas Carol, The Nutcracker, and several other Christmas movies.

Thomas felt warm and content, tomorrow he would have the “real” celebration with his family, eating his fathers food and spending time with his mom. but for now, now he would bask in the calm that came, all the sides cuddled together. Somehow Logan had found his way into Janus’s blanket, hugging around the snake like side as the two leaned against Thomas’s side. Patton took up his other side, as Remus sat on the floor, purring as Patton played with his hair. Roman and Virgil sprawled on the remaining sides, Roman having the weighted lion lying on top of him acting as a weight blanket. while Virgil absently fiddled with the stim toys in the bag Remus gave him.

Thomas smiled, only to blink when a clementine was dropped on his lap, he picked it up looking around, no one else was around, Thomas turned it over to find how “Hi” had been carved out from the skin. as well as a smirking smiley. Thomas huffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’ll show his face sometime...” Janus mumbled into his shoulder making Thomas glance at him, to see how Janus was looking at the clementine he was holding. “He’s just going to be a cryptid first.” A snort left Thomas and he chuckled, returning his attention to the TV

“Yeah.”

#Sanders Sides #TheAdventures #Janus #Sympathetic Deceit #Remus #Roman #Logan #Patton #Virgil #Thomas #text #the fox writes #Advent #gift giving #christmas presents

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dylinski · 4 years

Text

Magnetism

Warnings: SMUT! bondage (but barely), language, violence, kind of dom tommy (but y/n is a brat so it doesnt last long), angst (obviously)

Relationships: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Author: @dylinski

A/N: Here’s my fic for day 4 of tomuary!!!! if i get them finished, i plan on posting two more but we’ll see how that goes. lol hope ya’ll enjoy and let me know what you think please. i’m really unsure about writing smut and idk if this is any good, so if i shouldn’t write anymore it would be nice to know. lol

There’s something about running for your life and fighting against all odds to survive that make a person reevaluate their life, but with Y/N, that’s not the case. Being in the scorch with a bunch of boys wasn’t much different from the glade, so what was there to consider? She knew who her friends and her enemies were and that’s all she needed to know in order to survive in this world. If Thomas had just listened to her when she said not to trust Teresa, more of them would be alive, but him not believing anything Y/N says is to be expected. Since the moment he came up and out of the box, something repellant between them switched on. The only proper way to describe it is when you try to force two poles of a magnet together with the same polar direction.

Fighting their way out of the maze, through the scorch, and now in this abandoned town lets a person see a lot of death and Y/N was tired of it. If that meant trying to convince Thomas that running around and attacking WCKD at random to find Minho, risking other’s lives, was a bad idea then she was willing to take all the blame. They were so close to paradise and they had saved so many souls already. At least Vince agreed, having one person on her side is nice.

There was another meeting, discussing all the usual topics, but Thomas seemed more pissed off than usual, which is saying something as of late. He’s been nothing but a pissy bitch since the search for his raven-haired friend had turned sour and unwilling. The meeting was held in a moderate-sized room, big enough to hold the handful of people permitted. Thomas was leaning on both hands over a table with Newt at his hip, what a surprise. They were combing over a map with Vince and Jorge, arguing about a last city or something. Y/N was sitting in the corner, rolling her eyes at practically every other word, a sad image of men and boys arguing over nonsense around the circular table.

Newt would look up every once in a while and give her a sympathetic smile to let her know she wasn’t forgotten in the exchange of emotions and words. She liked Newt, he had always been kind to her when most of the other boys treated her like she was fragile and delicate in the maze. He never doubted her or underestimated her abilities despite what was between her legs, well, until that little shit popped up and out of the ground. Motherfucking Thomas, the angel, the savior, the one who will lead us to paradise. Yeah right, more like the one who will lead everyone to their preventable deaths.

“Look! He was there, okay? I know it. Minho was there!” The vein in Thomas’ neck was protruding and defined from the strain he was putting on his words. He was desperate. “We grabbed the wrong container!”

“Thomas, there was a 50/50 chance and we made a choice of which one to grab. Not to mention the odds of him being in either train car, to begin with, were small.” Vince was calm and collected, he always managed to keep a cool head.

“Yeah, but he was there! If I had just..” Thomas was quieter now, but no less desperate.

“You didn’t pick the wrong one, Mate. We saved at least 100 people from WCKD today. I wouldn’t call that a failure. We didn’t find Minho, but I have faith we will. He’s still out there, I know it.” Newt looked up at Y/N when he finished, and she couldn’t help to give a forced smile. Leave it to him to be the voice of reason, but also the one to egg on the bumbling buffoon everyone seems to eagerly place their faith in.

“Newt, I get that, but he was there, he was right there! If we hadn’t been so pressed for time I could have-”

Y/N jumped up, utterly pissed at this point and tired of hearing these idiots run round and round in the same circles. “You could have what, Thomas? You could have picked the ‘right’ container? Hmm? Why don’t you go tell that to Sonya? Or Aris? I’m sure they’d love to hear that you saving their lives, along with everyone else in that box, wasn’t your goal and you’d gladly trade them for the single life of Minho.”

Everyone in the room fell silent and it was filled with the light of the moon shining through the missing part of the ceiling. The flames from the lanterns danced on everyone’s shocked faces. Y/N was never one to prance around the daisies when it came to stating the obvious. Thomas looked almost ashamed and it was honestly annoying. She was tired of his pitiful ’I didn’t ask for this’ routine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Despite the guilt that raged in his stomach, he used it to fuel his anger towards Y/N, which was to be expected. He took most of his negative emotions out on her, his own personal punching bag, but he could never land any punches because she honestly couldn’t care less. She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, shooting knives at him and his nostrils flared under her eyes. An unknowing battle of spiteful gazes between them.

“Well, as entertaining as it is to watch you two practically have hate-sex with each other, we need to discuss our options.” Jorge obviously chose his words to jolt the two out of their staring contest and it worked. They both made faces like they had tasted something sour, scrunching their noses at the idea of actually wanting each other. Well, I mean, it’s not the first time Y/N had thought of it, but just because he had the body that could rival a god doesn’t mean she was ignorant of his pea-sized brain.

“There’s nothing to discuss. We’re not risking anyone’s lives to go to the last city, if it’s even real.” Y/N couldn’t help but sights the relief of Vince seeing reason.

“I’ve heard things over the years, that it was a last resort for WCKD, their place of operations. I’ve never managed to make it that far north, but it’s one of the safe heavens that were put into place when things went to shit.” Y/N huffed in annoyance, thanks, Jorge. Great job at giving the little shit ideas.

“Look, we could make it there with a small team in a week and then be back with Minho in no time.”

“No, Thomas. I’m not risking any more lives to save one person. This is a suicide mission. If it’s anything Jorge says it is, the city will be a fortress. Not to mention the road to get there, riddled with the infected. We don’t have the people or the resources to take on a fight like that.” Vince was tired of arguing with him, so he was standing his ground and that would be the end of it. Thomas may have been the leader in the glade and the scorch, but here he was allowed the privilege to have a say by Vince.

“I don’t need an army, just two or three-”

“Thomas, no!” Vince was done with these petty arguments and put his foot down. “The ship is almost done. We’ll be ready to sail in less than a week. There are casualties in war, and in this world, the life of one doesn’t out way the lives of the many. We’re not going and that’s final.”

Thomas grunted and threw his arms up in rebellion, stomping off to brood somewhere by himself.

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile of satisfaction that crept onto her face from seeing him so pissed off. She strode over to where Newt was standing and crossed her arms, leaning her back against the table to face him.

“He’s hurting you know? He blames himself. He blames himself for everything honestly.” The smile melted away just as easily as it appeared. There goes Newt, always defending his puppy.

“He should! I told him not to trust Teresa!” Newt let a small shudder roll over his body at her name and Y/N couldn’t help but feel empathy and guilt for mentioning it.

“We all trusted her, except for you, of course. You never let us forget it, but we had no reason not to. She helped us, she helped Thomas. Maybe you were just jeal-”

“For the love of God, Newt, if you say I was jealous, I’ll break your other leg.” He chuckled at the threat, knowing it was empty and mostly a joke. It made her smile a bit, seeing him smile and laugh. He was always like a brother to her and she missed seeing him so happy. A lot of them haven’t been able to feel that way for a while now. Not since Thomas showed up and shucked it all up, anyway.

“He understands why you hate him.” Y/N was caught off guard, lost in her own head when Newt broke through.

“I don’t hate him, I just…” There wasn’t really a word for it. It was like Thomas was made specifically to boil the blood in her veins and ignite a fire in her stomach that was begging to rage. He knew exactly how to get under her skin and press her buttons, and most of the time he wasn’t even trying.

“You two are a lot alike actually.” Newt let out a chuckle and ignored the hard stare directed at him. “You’re both stubborn as bulls, reckless too. Jumping into things without thinking clearly. You’re guided by emotion rather than logic, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” He turned his head to face his friend and curled up the corner of his lip. “Go get some sleep, we’ve all had a long day.” Newt patted her shoulder and limped off, leaving her alone in the room that now felt huge.

Y/N wasn’t really that tired, so she decided to go around to her favorite spot by the water that she found when they first arrived. The way the moonlight danced on the water in the darkness created the illusion of twinkling lights and reminded her of looking up into the sky in the glade. She hopped down from the ledge onto the sand and trotted through the thick and moist beach towards the large rock that always managed to be warm despite the sun. When it finally came into view, she halted in her tracks.

Of course, Thomas would fucking be there, laying on her rock in her secret spot. A low grumble resonates in her chest as she clenched her fist and stomped towards him. He heard and sat up hazily, having been lost in the limbo of sleep and consciousness.

“What? Who’s...oh. It’s you.” He laid back down, resting his head on his arms that were raised over his head.

“That’s my spot.” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth and clenched fists, trying not to punch him.

He lifted his head slightly and opened one eye, looking Y/N over and then let his head fall back down. “I don’t see your name on it.”

Y/N’s jaw went slack as she let out a small whine of protest, which seemed to put a shit-eating grin on Thomas’ face. Despite being pissed as hell, she couldn’t deny that his smile, with the crescent eyes and the way the moon illuminated his face, was...beautiful. No. No no no no. She’s mad and he’s an annoying little shit that gets everybody hurt or killed. Okay, good. She couldn’t stand the thought of actually being attracted to him.

“You know, Newt says-” Thomas was cut off by her.

“Newt says a lot of things.” Despite being so close to him, Y/N still couldn’t help but feel the rise of annoyance as she rolled her eyes.

Thomas sat up on his elbows and looked over at Y/N. The way he looked at her, and the light of the night with the waves crashing, for some reason it made her feel vulnerable. She moved her arms that were crossed on her chest down to wrap around her stomach. Thomas tilted his head in the most quizzical of ways like he was trying to decipher her. She was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, but so terribly wanted to.

Tired of being gawked at, Y/N took the few steps between them and leaned against the large boulder, her back mostly facing Thomas. She looked up to the sky that was mostly black and empty and let out a sad sigh. She missed the stars, but since they left the maze they seemed to have all died out.

“I know, I miss them too.” Y/N shot a look over her shoulder at Thomas who was looking up. She couldn’t help but linger her gaze on him, he looked so...broken. He must have felt her stare because the muscles in his arms flexed under his weight as he shifted uncomfortably. His jaw clenched, but he still kept looking up, searching for something they both knew he’d never find.

“Why do you want to save Minho so bad?” He broke his lock on the sky and looked at her like it was the stupidest of questions, which it was. “I mean, I know why, but he’s probably dead. We haven’t heard anything about him in months and-”

“He’s alive.” Thomas laid himself back down flat against the rock. “I know it, I can feel it in my gut.” He spoke like it was the truth, something factual rather than the simple feeling that it really was.

“Yeah, but what if he’s not? Are you willing to risk our lives, your life, for someone who may not even be alive?”

He sat up fully and his eyes were dark and full of emotions she couldn’t quite decode. His posture changed to confidence and purpose. “Minho would do it for me.” He looked out to the ocean and crossed his legs, letting his elbows rest on them, placing his cheeks between his hands.

Y/N couldn’t argue with him there. She had known Minho longer than Thomas, and if there was one thing he’d never do, it would be leaving a friend behind. Thomas scooted over and patted the hard surface next to him. She examined the spot and looked up to him, questioningly. He gave her a small smile and she climbed up next to him. There was silence between them, not having much to say, as they shared the space and took in the sea and its illusion of stars.

“I’m going,” Thomas spoke softly as he continued to stare out at the water. They could hear the waves lapping against the stone as his words echoed. Y/N wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Was he going now? Going to sleep? He looked up and his lips turned down, eyes full of sadness and it hit her. He was going to the last city, alone.

“What!? You can't go! Did you not hear Vince? It’s a suicide mission!” Y/N surprised both of them at her exasperation to get Thomas to stay. I mean, sure she didn’t like the guy, but it’s not like she wanted him dead.

He looked at her and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t care. I have to at least try.” The look in his eyes was pitiful and unrelenting. The decision was made, and once he made his mind up on something, there was no use arguing with him.

“If you want to die, that’s fine, I won’t be a part of it.” Y/N hopped down from the rock and started to walk away hurriedly. “But I’m telling Vince.”

Thomas’ eyes grew wide and he jumped from the rock and chased after her. “No! You can't say anything!” He grabbed her arm and she reactively spun around, landing a solid punch in his gut. Thomas grabbed his stomach and took a step back, grunting in pain. She rolled her eyes and turned to continue walking when Thomas ran up behind her and tackled her to the ground.

“What the fuck, Thomas!?” She struggled but managed to spin around, her back to the sand and Thomas hovering over top her, caging her in with his arms as they held her wrists down over her head.

“I can't let you tell anyone before I leave!” His hot breaths were huffing into her face, a contrast to the cold breeze that had chilled the air.

Y/N looked up at him in frustration and confusion, but mostly at herself. Her eyes flitted down to his lips for the slightest of seconds, but she had to throw those thoughts from her mind. Sorry, Thomas. She slammed her head up into the boy’s nose and he let out a shout as he flew back, grabbing his face and releasing his grip on her arms. She wiggled out from under him and stood up to keep going, but a hand wrapped around her ankle and she face-planted into the hard earth and let out a groan, rubbing the sore spot on her head.

Thomas climbed up on top of her, straddling her waist from behind. He held her wrists to her side this time, avoiding the possibility of her bucking her head back and hitting him in the face again. She writhed underneath him and fought as best she could, but he was stronger than her. It didn’t help that he had the advantage either.

“Are you jacked!? Let me go you little shuckface!” She let out screeches and shouts as she struggled, but it was no use. She gave up and relaxed under him. “Well, you can't hold me down forever! What’s your plan here slinthead?”

Thomas didn’t reply, obviously trying to make this shit up as he went along. He pinned her arms behind her back and stood up, making a grunting noise as he pulled her up with him. “Oh, now he’s the quiet brooding type. Couldn’t get you to shut up for the life of me in the glade, but now you got nothing to say?”

“Shut up.” He grunted through his teeth as he pushed Y/N forward a bit, jerking her around as they walked. He still had her arm pinned behind her back and it was getting kind of painful now.

“Where are you taking me? Are you gonna kill me? Didn’t think you’d have the balls. Well, actually with all the people you’ve killed over the last year, it probably won’t be that hard.” Thomas threw Y/N up against the wall of one of the buildings as they passed through the camp and her head bounced off, now throbbing in two places. She slammed her eyes shut and grabbed the back of her skull as Thomas slammed his hands into the wall on either side of her face. His body was pressing into hers and she could feel every muscle tense as he gritted his teeth and flared his nostrils.

Their faces were inches apart as he growled at her. “I’m getting fucking tired of you reminding me how many mistakes I’ve made!” She has seen him angry like this before, and it was intense, but to have it directed at her, if she was less of a stubborn mule, she probably would have klunked her pants. Thomas was like a raging sea when he was truly angry, everything in his path swallowed up and demolished. He had so much anger, so much hate towards WCKD and himself that when he reached a tipping point it would all spill out like an erupting volcano, and Y/N just happened to be in his path.

“You walk around, talking shit about me to everyone and I can’t take it anymore! You think I don’t carry those people with me, that I don’t know the lives I’ve cost!? I didn’t want any of this! I never asked for it. I didn’t want to be the leader! That’s Minho’s job, but for some God-forsaken reason, everyone but you thinks I’m some savior. I just want to save my friends! I just want to get as far from WCKD and this fucking place as I can! The last thing I need is you reminding me how royally I’ve screwed up every five seconds!” He pulled her off the wall, she was mostly shell shocked from his burst of fury. He gripped her bicep tight enough to leave a bruise as he guided her further through the camp. “But first, I’m getting Minho.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence which was preferred by Thomas since he was trying not to wake up anyone anyways. They made it to the small building that Thomas had claimed as his own and he shut the door behind them. He pushed Y/N down forcefully on his excuse for a bed and she sat there, still and silent. Thomas paced and ran his fingers through his hair as his mind raced a million miles a minute.

Y/N gulped and wasn’t entirely sure what to say to keep him from exploding again. It wasn’t that she feared he would hurt her, she knew he wouldn’t, but she feared to see him like this. Seeing him like a rabid dog biting at the ankles of anyone who caught his eye. Thomas grabbed a shirt from the floor and ripped off a piece and grabbed her arm, pulling her up the bed.

“Are you serious? You’re tying me up?” Thomas glared at her and then proceeded to tie her wrist to the post of the bed. “Kinky.” Her words were meant to antagonize him, and it worked as he visibly clenched his jaw in vexation. He got up and started to walk around the room when Y/N cleared her throat and waved her hand at Thomas. “Well you’re not very bright, are you?” He looked at her with bewilderment and she rolled her eyes. “My other hand. What’s to stop me from untying your sad excuse for a knot?” Thomas growled under his breath, mostly at himself for not thinking about that possibility. He ripped off another strip of cloth and tied her other wrist to the opposite bedpost.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was helping him, but she was starting to find this entertaining. Seeing him sputter around in an attempt to get himself killed and digging himself into a deeper hole. Y/N watched him with enjoyment as she crossed her ankles and relaxed against the headboard. He was scurrying around the room like a squirrel, trying to find things and stuffing them into a bag.

“So you’re just gonna leave me tied up when you leave until someone finds me, huh?” Thomas looked over his shoulder and huffed as he continued to rummage through his belongings. “Don’t forget your jacket, might get a little chilly.” He stood up from where he was squatting and threw his bag down hard on the ground and curled in his lips with impatience.

“Keep talking and I’ll gag you!”

“Ooo, promise?” Thomas shot daggers as he glinted his eyes and growled. Y/N just smiled and wiggled her head in triumph. “If you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was ask.” Thomas rolled his eyes and turned to keep packing. She was getting bored of the silence and made an attempt to rile him up again.

“Some of the boys in the glade used to talk, you know?” Thomas ignored her as she rambled on. “Apparently you weren’t very quiet when you used to, you know?” Thomas turned to her with curiosity. Since her hands were, tied she couldn’t make the motion, so she thrust her hips up twice, but he got the idea. His eyes went wide and he froze in place. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his discomfort. “I overheard Jeff telling Zart about how they accidentally saw you in the woods rubbing one out and when you came you said my na-”

“SHUT UP!” Thomas grabbed what was left of the shirt from the end of the bed and shoved it into Y/N’s mouth. She just laughed through the fabric, her enjoyment muted. His cheeks were so pink that they looked like they were hot to the touch and it was almost adorable how flustered and embarrassed he looked. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his back mostly facing Y/N and his head hanging low in shame.

Finally, his cheeks turned from pink to red and he looked to her as he stood. “Well, what do you expect with you prancing around the glade in those short shorts and spaghetti-strap shirts!?” Y/N’s face went from amused to resentful. She tried defending herself through the cloth but all that came out was stifled noise. Thomas threw his arms up and huffed in annoyance, then grabbed the shirt from her mouth.

“I said, you fucking misogynist, that it was fucking hot out while I was working, unlike you who avoided his duties like the plague! Besides, how is it fair for you to fucking say shit like that about me when you paraded yourself around in those pants that clung to your ass while you were shirtless? Do you think I liked staring at your abs as sweat rolled down them?” Both of them were stunned into silence, Y/N realizing what she said and Thomas just amazed that she even thought about him like that.

They both stared at each other, Y/N turning flushed and Thomas trying to hold back his smile. “Shut up!” She pushed her leg out to the side as she kicked him as hard as she could in the leg. He shouted at the impact and bent over to grab the spot that now throbbed.

“You’re such a violent little shit!” He hollered at her, referring to their brawl earlier.

“Yeah? Imagine me in bed.” Her words were sultry and aimed at being intimidating, but Thomas just smiled the most devilish grin.

“I already have.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and blushed as she turned her head against her shoulder in the opposite direction of Thomas in protest. After a moment she looked back since he was so quiet and he was still standing there, looking at her with hunger and gnawing on his bottom lip. She narrowed her eyes and couldn’t help but look down and noticed the bulge in his pants. Her eyes went wide and she gasped as she went to kick him again. He yelped and swatted her foot away. “What the fuck, Thomas?”

“What!? You’re the one who said to imagine you in bed!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re such a whore!” Thomas had a smile of amusement at being called a whore like it was a funny joke. Y/N just huffed and turned her eyes up in annoyance.

“C’mon, you haven’t thought about me?” Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, keeping distance between them in case she wanted to kick or headbutt him again.

“God no!” Her words were firm and strong, but she was betrayed by her face. His lips went dry at the lie and she licked them unknowingly as her eyes darted to his. She blushed and looked away quickly to avoid any further incrimination, but Thomas grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. His face was so close to hers now, them only needing to whisper to communicate.

“Tell me, what did you imagine? Do you think about my thick cock while you had your fingers inside yourself?” She shuddered at his words and her mouth was like a desert, begging for water. Her lips were parted and she couldn’t gain control of her tongue as she searched his eyes, full of need and hidden desire. He licked her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and a chill coursed through her. He pulled away and her face followed, but was she restrained by the ties on her wrists. She let out a small whine at the loss of his mouth. Thomas bit his lip and chuckled. “If that’s how your lips taste, I bet the rest of you tastes just as amazing.” His hand rested on her bare calf and trailed its way up her leg until it reached her thigh where the hem of her shorts began.

Her hot, panting breaths were mixed with his, their lips nearly touching. She wanted desperately to close the minuscule distance between them, but couldn’t make her body move, frozen under his touch. Thomas went in, but just before their lips connected he tilted his head and collided his mouth with her neck. She let out a gasp at the sudden feeling of his warm lips against her chilled flesh. He kissed and sucked at the spot just below her jaw as she leaned back, giving him more access. He worked his way down to the pulse in her neck and bit down, then licked over it to alleviate the red marks. The mix of pain and pleasure, hot and cold, had her rubbing her thighs together in search of friction. Y/N let out a small moan into Thomas’s ear and his hand made its way further up her leg. He continued to lick and nip at her neck, leaving marks and right before his hand reached her core he pulled away.

Y/N let out a whine of protest at the loss of his warmth as he stood up and started to walk away. She was finally able to find her voice, but just barely. She croaked out in a pant, “You can’t just do that.”

“Can’t I?” A smile crossed his lips and the asshole had the nerve to wink. She pouted and huffed in retaliation and Thomas was now standing at the end of the bed, his legs touching the mattress, directly vertical to her. “I’m not going to just give you what you want. You have to work for it, Princess.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, seeing him like this, so domineering. The last thing she ever expected was for him to be authoritative in bed, let alone letting herself be subdued by him.

Thomas was such an arrogant little shit, he got into crevices that she didn’t even know she had. Working his way through her walls and made her squirm. She tugged at the cloth around her wrists, digging into her flesh and creating a pleasurable sting, wishing she could jump on him. She’s not entirely sure if her desire is to jump his bones or beat his ass though. He laughs and leans over her feet, placing his hands on the mattress. “Come on, baby girl, beg.” He took his time saying the last word, allowing the ‘g’ to bounce off his tongue.

“I don’t fucking beg!” Y/N spit at Thomas and the wet hit his chin. He grinned and stood up as he wiped it from his face with his finger, then placed it in his mouth. He sucked on it and let it out with a pop. Even if her tongue wouldn’t beg, her eyes sure did. “Fucking Christ…” she mumbled under her breath, but he still heard and chuckled.

Thomas places his hands on her ankles and slowly slid them up the length of her legs, maintaining eye contact. He placed his knees on the bed and was straddling the lower part of her body. When his fingers reached the waist of her pants, he curled his fingers into the band and looked her in the eyes. His digits against her flesh were thrilling and like fire coursing to her core. He searched her eyes for protest, but Y/N bit her lip and gave him the slightest nod. He smirked and looked down as he dragged the clothing off her hips. The tug pulled her down slightly, now resting on her tailbone instead of her ass. He pulled her shorts all the way off with her shoes and let them drop to the floor.

Y/N crossed her legs, feeling vulnerable, but Thomas leaned in and forced them apart by her knees. She dragged her legs up, placing her feet flat on the bed as Thomas’ fingers trailed up her thighs, leaving a trail of fire. He leaned down, his heat breaths against the inside of her legs. He kissed and licked at the warm skin and left bruising marks as he sucked into it. His mouth made its way up painfully slow to her sex when he blew cold air across it. A shiver radiated up her spine and left her feeling dizzy at the mix of everything.

Thomas kept licking and sucking everywhere around her core, the place where she so desperately wanted him to be. Her hips bucked up uncontrollably whenever he got agonizingly close, but he would always move away. “Thomas..” His name was breathy and needy, a plea for him to stop being such a tease. He moaned at the sound of his name on her lips and it reverberated through her skin as he continued to kiss and she felt it in her core. The stimulation causing her to whine.

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” His words vibrated against her flesh as he refused to release his lips.

Y/N let out a couple hearty breaths when she finally panted out, “Fuck me with your tongue, you prick!”

Thomas dove into her core without hesitation and the sound that came from her was somewhere between a screech and a gasp. His tongue lapped up around her entrance, licking up all the wetness he caused. He hummed at the taste and it sent shivers through her body and down to her toes. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He licked a stripe up to her clit and clamped his lips around the nub as he sucked hard. The pressure around it was inciting, but then he started to flick his tongue across the bundle of nerves. The two sensations mixing together sent a warm thrill down to her bones as her back arched up slightly.

The noises coming from Y/N were a mix of moans and gasps as his tongue worked on her fervently. He let go of her clit and replaced it with the pad of his finger, rubbing circles into it. He traced the ring of her entrance with the tip of his tongue until her hips bucked up and he penetrated, just like she had said she wanted him to. He thrust his tongue in and out, drinking up the dampness she was producing for him. “So wet. Taste’s so good.” The words vibrated through her core and a deep long moan was released.

“Fi..fingers.” She struggled to get the word out, but Thomas knew what she needed. He placed his mouth around her nub again, sucking and flicking while his finger traced the place his tongue had been. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and watched as she writhed under his torment. She looked down at him and whined, so he gave in and pushed a finger inside her. He slowly pumped it in and out as she let out soundless gasps. He wiggled his finger, stretching her out and slid a second one in. He pumped as he sucked at her clit and her moans were constant now. Her body, unable to keep still, was beyond her control and fully reacting to everything that Thomas was doing.

He scissored his digits, widening her for his cock. “Are you gonna come on my fingers, baby?”

“Mhmmm” That was all Y/N could manage with all the sensations she was feeling. That fire building in her stomach was overflowing and begging to spill out. She was such a wreck that she felt like she was being torn apart. Thomas curled his fingers and pumped them vigorously as he kept his mouth to her bundle of nerves and hit that spot that triggered everything. His digits brushed across it once, twice, three times, and then the coil broke.

Thomas watched as Y/N let out a silent scream and threw her head back. He smiled at his victory and hummed around her clit, causing her body to spasm through her orgasm. He licked around his fingers, taking in all she had to offer. Pulling his fingers from her, she went limp on the bed, panting with her eyes shut and her wrists red from tugging at the ties around them. He licked his digits, eating up everything he could and couldn’t help but be smug at how well he unraveled her. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet babygirl. If I made you come that good on my fingers, I can’t wait to see you on my cock.”

Thomas started to rub the all too obvious tenting in his pants and Y/N opened her eyes, panting, and looked at him in awe. He pulled off his shirt and, dear God those abs and his chest. He wasn’t chiseled or defined, but you could still see the muscles easily. There was a patch of hair between his pecs that spread down and across to his nipples that were hard pebbles. Y/N licked her lips as she thought about running her tongue across them. Her eyes found the thick brush of hair just below his belly button that led down to the band of his pants that hung low on his hips, showing off the ‘v’ that disappeared into his waistband.

Y/N gulped as she rubbed her thighs together, becoming aroused again just by the sight of the man. He reached a hand down his pants and started rubbing, as she poked his legs with her foot. “Take. Them. Off.” Thomas smiled and did as he was told. His pants fell around his ankles as he stepped out, kicking off his boots. He pumped his cock, the flesh around his swollen head begging to be tasted.

He crawled onto the bed, his heavy dick hanging between his legs as he hovered over Y/N. She was licking her lips so much they were bound to become chapped. He laid his body on top of her, his cock resting against her pelvis. He reached a hand under her top, pulling the hem up to reveal her breast. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over the sensitive and raised peak, making her close her eyes. She let out a hot breath and Thomas took advantage of her open mouth. He plunged his tongue between her lips and swirled it around, filling her with her own taste.

Their lips smacked against each other, creating a dance of tongues filled with moans and whines. Thomas released her mouth and trailed suckling kisses across her jaw and down her neck until he reached her nipple. He took it into his mouth and thrust his hips forward, rubbing his shaft against Y/N’s all too sensitive clit. She shuddered and met his hips as she bucked up against him. He let out a deep groan at the friction he’d been craving so frustratingly and lightly bit down on the flesh next to her nipple in response.

“Untie. Me. Now.” Y/N huffed, trying to keep herself coherent enough to speak.

“Not yet.” Thomas purred into her ear and licked a long stripe from her jaw up to behind her ear that left chills on her skin as the cold air hit the wetness. She grunted in revolt at not being untied but was distracted as Thomas thrust his hips up again and she let out a hitched breath. He zoned in his focus on her nipple, sucking and nibbling until Y/N was writhing beneath him.

Thomas started to kiss her passionately in a chaos of lips, teeth, tongues, and saliva as he lifted his hand not preoccupied with her nipple to untie the fabric around her left wrist. She pulled her arm away at the freedom and immediately wove her fingers through his hair. He gave her other nipple equal attention when he switched hands to release her other wrist. It went for his ass without hesitation. She drew her leg up over his thigh as her fingers dig into the flesh on his behind. He moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her touch, not realizing how sorely he needed it.

His hips bucked up against her core rhythmically now as they deepened their kiss in a flutter of groping and tugging of flesh. “Fuck me.” Y/N spoke into his mouth and Thomas growled in response. He leaned up, pulled her shirt over her head and lined his cock up with her cunt. His head and shaft were already slick with her wetness from gliding across her core. He pressed the tip against the entrance and slowly pushed the head in. Y/N let out a moan as she felt him move deeper inside her, inch by agonizing inch. Halfway, he easily slid in until he bottomed out.

He kept still, taking in her heat around him and allowing her to adjust to his size. She whined when he was still for too long and the look in her eyes was all the answer he needed. He hiked her leg over his hip for a better angle and slowly pulled out until she was almost empty. He slowly pushed back in until their pelvis’ met again. He repeated this excruciating movement until she couldn’t take it anymore. She gripped the back of his head, intertwining her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to her. She kissed him hard and pulled on his lip with her teeth letting it bounce back with a plop. He let out a rumble in his chest and thrust into her hard. A small yelp escaped her chest and she dug her other hand into his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Thomas pulled out slow again, but rammed into her hard. He did this a few more times until he couldn’t take it anymore himself. He started to quicken his pace and Y/N’s head fell back as she clung to him. Her moans and grunts unrelenting, littered with profanities and his name, egging him on. “Oh fuck.” She forced out her words with each breath as he pushed into her like there was no room for them with him inside.

“Fuck, baby girl. You feel so fucking good.” Thomas let his head fall into the crevice of her neck as he pulled her other leg over his hip, the heels of her feet digging into the bottom of his ass. He mercilessly thrust into her, over and over, moving the bed along with them and they were both practically screaming now. “Christ, princess you’re so tight.”

Y/N couldn’t answer, her mind too wired and out of control, just like her body. She let out noises she couldn’t decipher and felt that heat in her abdomen start to boil like a hot white flame. They were both covered in sheens of sweat, and she watched as a bead dripped down Thomas’ temple. The vein in his neck was defined and strained, pulsing visibly. “I’m so fucking close.”

Thomas reached down between them and started to vigorously rub circles on her clit, he shifted his pelvis and with his next thrust hit her g-spot perfectly. “Holy..” She gasped out as the build-up reached its peak, the split moment of feeling lighter than air, her stomach jumping. “FUCK.” Her dams burst and she let out a long and gruff breath, exhaling hard as she came around his thick cock, her eyes and head rolling back.

Thomas could feel her clenching around him and the hot pressure sent him over the edge as he came inside her, letting hot spurts coat her walls. He took his fingers from her clit and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock as he milked out every last bit of his orgasm into Y/N. He collapsed down onto her, their bodies a mess of sweat, saliva, and come. They both panted and sighed as they let their bodies catch up to the moment, exhausted from what just happened.

Thomas got up and grabbed a cloth, dousing it in water, then cleaning up the mixture of come from Y/N. He cleaned off his limp cock and let it drop to hang between his thighs. He laid back down in the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her as she curled up next to him. He reached over and played with the ends of her hair, examining her face. “I’m still leaving, you know.”

Y/N laid flat on her back and sighed. “I know.” She turned back into his side and looked up from his chest. “Let’s go get Minho, together.”

Taglist: @xoprincessmel @bitch-banshee @parker-potter @writingsbychlo @lettersofwrittencollective @fan-child @moongoddesskiana

#tomuary #tom-uary #tomuary day 4 #tmr thomas #tmr #tdc #tst #the maze runner #the scorch trials #the death cure #tmr thomas imagine #tmr thomas smut #tmr thomas fic #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien

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i-prefer-the-term-antihero · 3 years

Note

10: Are you allergic to anything? 15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? 19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? 33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] 70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog?

Thanks so so much for the ask!! 🥰

10. Not that I’m aware! I’ve been incredibly fortunate that way.

15. Okay so this is a topic I feel passionately about so apologies I’m gonna be longwinded in answering this question XD

I have to start by saying I have a lot of youtubers who I watch who I really love. But I’d say my top favorites are probably Game Grumps and Thomas Sanders.

I watch youtubers to laugh and forget about life’s struggles at the end of the day, and basically GG and TS generally do the best job at that. But I don’t easily laugh out loud, and even if a channel makes me laugh out loud at first, generally over time it’ll stop making me laugh out loud even if I still enjoy it. TS and GG the two that continue to make me laugh out loud after a good amount of time. And I have to say even the Grumps can’t really compete against Thomas there. He’s been consistently making me laugh out loud every time he posts for about seven years now, and for that I love an applaud him.

It’s funny they’re my favorites when they are polar opposites. I love that Thomas’s content is so pure and wholesome and positive, and I love the Grumps for the uncensored little goobers they are XD

Thomas is kinda hard to describe if you haven’t seen his stuff...I don’t see a lot of content like Thomas’s. He’s so innovative and always manages to surprise me. Currently the quality of it is so high it honestly runs like a tv show. It’s nice to have something new and imaginative, that’s actually a story, as well as genuinely funny in a YouTube sphere. It always absorbs me completely.

I love the Grumps because I like gamers, and they play a lot of the games the other gamers I watch don’t, which is really nice, and I love their conversations as they play. I definitely like having other gamers to watch who play the game right and just talk about the game itself too, but I love deep topics and you never know what you’re gonna get with the grumps, which always keeps things interesting. I don’t think many youtubers have such genuine and deep conversations and I love hearing them, in addition to all the beautiful stupidity that comes out of their mouths too XD

Though ultimately I think the reason the grumps are so high on my list is that...I’ve never related to another youtuber as a person as much as I relate to Dan. (Actually in just general life I haven’t found a lot of people I relate to that much.) You wouldn’t know it from a first glance, but we’re extremely similar, both in more general ways, and in really specific random quirks. I genuinely do love Arin too, and honestly it doesn't bug me as much as it does most people that he’s so bad at the games. But I relate to Dan so much, it’d be tough to find another youtuber I loved as much, just for that simple reason.

Some other honorable mentions are Jacksepticeye and Safiya Nygaard.

19. So, this isn’t a question I get asked a lot, so I really hope I don’t sound crazy here...

Speaking of the game grumps, you know how, when Arin asks Dan this question, he always says “I don’t, but I wish I did”? My feelings are almost the exact opposite of that. Aka, “I do, but I wish I didn’t.”

Basically I believe that exist, but that only certain people can see them.

I should firstly explain for anyone else seeing this post that I am a strong Christian, as are most of my family members, my grandmother included.

When I was younger my grandma would tell me stories about ghosts she’d seen. She didn’t mean anything bad by telling me, and actually wanted to tell them to me to make them seem less scary. But having an overreactive imagination and OCD, her stories tended to have the opposite effect, and honestly traumatized me. Again, not her intention. Especially since I was little, and she said it with the utmost sincerity, she convinced me they were real from a young age, and made me really scared of them.

Now, all these years later, I’ve never seen a ghost or demon, nor even had a spooky encounter.

I kinda decided to go “believing these things don’t exist helps my mental health, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I kinda still live in that limbo of believing they exist, but also not believing they exist because it helps me. It’s hard to explain. Any time someone provides an explanation for a story not to be a ghost, I love them and choose to believe that instead, simply because it helps my sanity to do so.

The Holy Spirit gives us gifts, and I think my grandma’s is to see glimpses into the spiritual world. I didn’t know that/think that way for a long time, so i thought just anyone could see those things. I currently believe that if you don’t have that gift, you won’t see things like that. That’s all.

33. In terms of aesthetics? 10/10. I rarely see a blog so pleasing in terms of overall aesthetics, and sometimes it’s like a breath of fresh air to remember how pretty your blog is. And I must admit your tags are beautiful, even though I believe at times they’re detrimental to your readership/ability to gain followers. In terms of gifs and edits? 10/10. I know you work super hard at them, and they’re really beautiful and you do an awesome job with them. I’m not super into gifs/edits myself, or generally the same movies, so I don’t always interact with them, but for what they are they’re amazing.

I won’t rate you based on general posts because, in addition to not seeing a lot of your posts since I follow too many people, you and I have very different tastes in posts and fandoms. So it wouldn’t really be fair for me to give you a rating when what you post is based on opinion and taste and ours are just different.

It’s actually for this reason, even before you sent your asks to me I honestly didn’t like this question on the list. I don’t think it’s fair to judge someone when each person’s blog is very personal, and you post based on what you personally like and what you personally think. And like...I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to rate that.

70. Nope. ...I don’t think Akitas really do tricks. They can like... sit and stuff but that’s about it XD

Thank you again!!!

#asks #antihero asks #ladynephthyss #ask game #send me asks #thomas sanders #game grumps #ghosts #allergies #personal #dogs

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xhxhxhx · 4 years

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“The Only Real Exception”

After writing about the education-polarization thesis and the future of Europe and Asia, I was curious: Has Japan polarized? One of Thomas Piketty’s students studied the question. They came to a surprising answer.

As Western Europe and North America have become increasingly polarized around education and income, Japan has actually depolarized.

Western Europe and Japan started in different places. In Western Europe, the educated classes traditionally supported parties of the right. In postwar Japan, they supported parties of the left. They moved in different directions. In Western Europe, the educated moved left. In Japan, they moved right.

From Amory Gethin, “Cleavage structures and distributive politics”:

7.6 The end of ‘cultural politics’

One of the other specificities of Japanese electoral behaviour is the fact that higher educated individuals have continuously supported left-wing parties, especially during the twenty years following the end of World War II. The historical strength of education levels in predicting party choice in Japan is well-known: it reflects the freezing of the party system which had emerged in the context of the ‘cultural politics’ of the 1950s (Watanuki, 1991).

Even when controlling for the significant improvements in citizens’ education levels since the 1960s, this pattern has persisted for most of the second half of the twentieth century. In the 1960s, 65% of the 20% least educated voters supported the Liberal Democratic Party, against 41% of voters belonging to the top education decile (figure 7.3c). During recent years, however, these differences have decreased considerably, and popular vote for the LDP has oscillated between 40% and 45% for all education groups in 2009-2014. Looking more closely at intellectual elites confirms this evolution (figure 7.3d). In 1963-1967, top 10% educated voters were indeed less likely to support the LDP by about 15 percentage points (8 percentage points after controls). This figure remained broadly stable, staying between 5 and 10 percentage points during the 1963-1996 period. Starting in 2009, however, education lost significance, even when including controls. The decline of the Social Democratic Party during the 1990s and its replacement by the Democratic Party of Japan – which culminated by its victory in 2009 – therefore seems to coincide with the disappearance of what was one of the most fundamental political divisions of Japanese society. The fact that this dealignment was sudden and occurred at the same time as shifts in the structure of party politics suggests that this process is driven by top-down mechanisms rather than long-run evolutions in collective beliefs.

7.7 From a multiple elites party system to political indifferentiation?

Bringing these two dynamics together points to a trend which is the exact opposite of the one observed in most Western countries (figure 7.4). In the 1960s, intellectual and economic elites were clearly separated into two different groups. On the left of the political spectrum, university graduates were highly supportive of the Japanese Communist Party and the Japanese Socialist Party, who based their appeal more on liberal values than on class antagonisms. Meanwhile, the Liberal Democratic Party attracted both low income earners and business elites. Through its defense of organized capitalism, it created strong ties with top executives and industrial leaders who participated in developing Japan’s growth model. This structure of political competition suddenly ended in 2009, when the LDP was defeated for the first time.

While these figures suggest that Japan was originally a perfect example of a multiple elites party system, this characterisation should not be over-emphasised. Persistently strong levels of support for the party among low income earners demonstrates that the LDP has never favoured exclusively economic elites. As was highlighted above, part of its remarkable hegemony came from its ability to distribute equally the fruits of the country’s long periods of growth. The non-linearity of the relationship between income and electoral behaviour is, to some extent, an interesting representation of the Japanese social compromise, which came with its dominant-party system.

Piketty describes Japan as the exception to the education-polarization rule. From Capital and Ideology:

The only real exception to this general evolution of the structure of political cleavages within the electoral democracies of developed countries seems to concern Japan, which has never really experienced a party system of classist type comparable to those observed in European countries and Westerners during the post-war period. The Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) has been in power almost permanently in Japan since 1945. Historically, this almost hegemonic conservative party has achieved its best scores in the rural and agricultural world and among the urban bourgeoisie. The LDP thus succeeded in synthesizing between the economic and industrial elites and traditional Japan, around a project of reconstruction of the country, in a complex context marked by the American occupation and an anticommunism exacerbated by the Russian-Chinese proximity. Conversely, the Democratic Party (main opposition party) has generally achieved its best scores among modest and average urban employees and among the most highly qualified, who are willing to protest against the presence of the United States and the new moral and social order embodied by the LDP, but without succeeding in sustainably gathering an alternative majority8. More generally, the specific structure of the political conflict in Japan must be linked to the particular form taken by Japanese cleavages around nationalism and traditional values9.

8. See A. GETHIN, Cleavages Structures and Distributive Politics, op. cit., p. 89-100. See also K. MORI MCELWAIN, « Party System Institutionalization in Japan », in A. HICKEN, E. MARTINEZ KUHONTA, Party System Institutionalization in Asia, Cambridge University Press, 2015, p. 74-107.

9. In The Game of the Century [The Silent Cry] (1967), Kenzaburô Ôé magnificently evokes the complexity and the violence of the relations between the intellectual elites and the popular classes in Japan, in particular around the urban-rural divide, traditional values and the question of the modernization of the country since the beginning of the Meiji era (1868), without forgetting the role played by the geopolitical positioning of the archipelago, the relationship with the United States and the antagonisms aroused by the presence of Korean workers.

Perhaps Japan was a precociously modern society in the 1960s, with an educated left and a uneducated right. Or perhaps it was a “post-colonial” society, with a self-consciously anti-imperialist left.

The Japanese experience of the 1960s can certainly sound precociously modern. In Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood (1987), one working class student was put off by the 1960s educated left:

"You know, when I went to university I joined a folk-music club. I just wanted to sing songs. But the members were a load of frauds. I get goose-bumps just thinking about them. The first thing they tell you when you enter the club is you have to read Marx. ‘Read page so-and-so to such-and-such for next time.’ Somebody gave a lecture on how folk songs have to be deeply involved with society and the radical movement. So, what the hell, I went home and tried as hard as I could to read it, but I didn't understand a thing. It was worse than the subjunctive. I gave up after three pages. So I went to the next week's meeting like a good little scout and said I had read it, but I couldn't understand it. From that point on they treated me like an idiot.

“I had no critical awareness of the class struggle, they said, I was a social cripple. I mean, this was serious. And all because I said I couldn't understand a piece of writing. Don't you think they were terrible?"

"Uh-huh," I said.

"And their so-called discussions were terrible, too. Everybody would use big words and pretend they knew what was going on. But I would ask questions whenever I didn't understand something. "What is this imperialist exploitation stuff you're talking about? Is it connected somehow to the East India Company?' "Does smashing the educational-industrial complex mean we're not supposed to work for a company after we graduate?' And stuff like that. But nobody was willing to explain anything to me. Far from it -- they got really angry.

“Can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I can," I said.

"One guy yelled at me, "You stupid bitch, how do you live like that with nothing in your brain?' Well, that did it. I wasn't going to put up with that. OK, so I'm not so smart. I'm working class. But it's the working class that keeps the world running, and it's the working classes that get exploited. What kind of revolution is it that just throws out big words that working-class people can't understand? What kind of crap social revolution is that? I mean, I'd like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions.

“Am I right, or what?"

"You're right."

"So that's when it hit me. These guys are fakes. All they've got on their minds is impressing the new girls with the big words they're so proud of, while sticking their hands up their skirts. And when they graduate, they cut their hair short and march off to work for Mitsubishi or IBM or Fuji Bank. They marry pretty wives who've never read Marx and have kids they give fancy new names to that are enough to make you puke. Smash what educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh! And the new members were just as bad. They didn't understand a thing either, but they pretended to and they were laughing at me. After the meeting, they told me, "Don't be silly! So what if you don't understand? Just agree with everything they say.'"

[...]

"So then what happened with your club?"

"I left in June, I was so furious," Midori said. "Most of these student types are total frauds. They're scared to death somebody's gonna find out they don't know something. They all read the same books and they all spout the same slogans, and they love listening to John Coltrane and seeing Pasolini movies. You call that "revolution?"'

"Hey, don't ask me, I've never actually seen a revolution."

"Well, if that's revolution, you can stick it. They'd probably shoot me for putting umeboshi in my rice balls. They'd shoot you, too, for understanding the subjunctive."

"It could happen."

"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I'm working class.”

But those dynamics changed. Today, Japan is about as polarized by education as France and the United States were in the 1970s and the United Kingdom was in the 1990s: the more educated and the less educated vote the same way.

I am still interested in whether Japan has depolarized at the level of opinion and policy. Under Shinzo Abe, the country has liberalized. It has more immigration and more women in the workforce. Perhaps that reflects the preferences of an increasingly educated population.

But it might be something else. The Liberal Democrats have a freedom of action that parties in competitive systems do not enjoy. In the United States, Democrats and Republicans must respond to changing preferences. In Japan, the Liberal Democrats can, more often than not, ignore them.

Perhaps Abe simply decided that cultural conservatism is not a winning program. But perhaps the country is changing beneath his feet.

#effortpost

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

The Coffee Prince Pt. 4

(T’Challa x Reader)

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*

Word Count: 7.1k

Plot: Stuck in your ways of living, one day at the coffee shop, you run into a tall dark roast that threatens to wake you up from your romantic hibernation.

*Previously*

You close your room door, tossing T’Challa Jr. on your bed. Kicking your shoes off, taking your hair down, you pull out your phone.

Home safe! You send to him. You put your phone down and unclothe to get comfortable. Suddenly a ding sounds and you dive for your device.

Glory to Bast. Sleep well, umhle.

You read it a couple of times before setting your phone back down. Laying down, you clutch your prized possession T’Challa won you to your chest as the day’s event float in your head: euphorically exhausted.

The next few weeks with T’Challa that follow are some of the best you have experienced in a long time. You guys meet at the coffee shop from time to time when your schedules allow, and take evening walks to vent about your days and life, ending with sweet kisses before you guys part ways. You can’t remember the last time you walked into work on cloud nine, but T’Challa seemed to be doing that for you now.

This day however was particularly tasking. Your company’s online server was down, causing an uptick in calls from begrudging customers wanting answers on when their products would be available again to use. The worst part was that your processors had no clue what the problem is or how long it would take to fix, so you try your best to white lie your way to keeping customers satisfied enough to keep from threatening to revoke their memberships. Just before you are at your wits end however, you see your phone light up with T’Challa’s name calling in. T’Challa wasn’t a big texter; he likes to hear your voice and feels texting is too impersonal which you thought was quite sweet but could be inconvenient at times. You pick up and speak in a low tone.

“Heyyy, Chacha, what’s up?” You were still kind of trying to figure out a nickname for him. You kinda like this one.

“So much, right now, umhle. I could really use a break at the moment. Are you free to meet?”

You look at the queue of calls sitting in your phone line and the stack of paperwork you need to upload and organize.

“Yeah, I can step away for a bit. The usual?”

“If you don’t mind. We could do something else if you’d rather.” His tone tickles your eardrum as you imagine him saying that in another context, but T’Challa was completely pure in his intentions with you most of the time.

“No, no. I could kill for some caffeine right now and it’s closer. My energy is too low to walk far.” you say with a whine.

“Ms. Macchiato, in her true form. I’ll see you there then.”

“Ok, see you!” You’re cheesing as you hang up the phone. You look around at your other co-workers completely ignoring the queue and roll your eyes as you walk out. No way in hell you would be the only person putting in phone work around here. You remind yourself to do some job searching later when possible.

Walking into the shop, the smell of the coffee beans roasting was enough to make you moan audibly. You were so damn ready to wrap your lips on the rim, letting the warm liquid rejuvenate your spirit. As you approach the register, you hear a voice call to you.

“(Y/N)! Over here!” T’Challa waves from a table by the window.

You wave and mime the you are going to order something and he replies, “I’ve got you right here, umhle.”

You squint as you see the extra cup sitting in front of him with your name correctly scrawled along the side. Walking up to him your heart swells with appreciation. T’Challa stands up placing a hand on your arm and a kiss on your cheek.

“You didn’t have to buy it for me. I owe you for a couple other ones already.” you say taking your seat.

T’Challa hisses his disdain for your comment. “You have no reason to pay me back. That’s not how I do things; my treat is seeing you in front of me.”

You feel heat rise to your face from something other than the coffee. You hide your goofy smile in your cup as you take a sip.

T’Challa smirks at you a while before continuing, “A hard days work looks good on you, by the way. I know you said things have been piling up, that’s why I wondered if you would even be able to see me today.” T’Challa sips from his ‘Thomas’ cup.

You tweak your mouth as you shift in your seat, “Yeah, I just figured, the work will still be there whether I take a break now or later. And trust me, the work will still be there for me to do alone.”

“Ahh, so your co-workers aren’t as dedicated as you seem to be.” T’Challa summizes.

“I mean, dedicated is a strong word. I do what I need to do to get things cuz otherwise I’m going to hear someone’s mouth about it, and I don’t needed that added stress, you know?”

T’Challa nods hugging himself in contemplation, “I see what you mean. Your situation seems to be working in comparison with mine. You know of my community work in high-crime areas?”

You nod. T’Challa had spoken of his work with a non-profit to rebuild some areas that were pretty violent and drug ridden that you knew all too well.

“Well, of course it is not so simple as to give people things and expect them to use the materials to create a better situation for themselves with education. So we are trying to do that, educate, but everyone is at a different learning level, and not everyone learns at the same rate or method. So, as much as we would love to be projecting great numbers of progress, they have been slow to come and almost stagnant at times due to us still trying to build a foundation for a successful program.” T’Challa lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head as he grips his cup up, staring into space.

“I get it. That’s some of the hardest work in the world; helping others in a completely selfless way. It can consume you, corrupt people and forget the mission at large. But I think you have a good head on your shoulders to keep things on track.” You reach for T’Challa’s hand, running your thumb along his slightly rough knuckles.

T’Challa sighs deeply watching your hand on his; his eyelids halfen his eyes. You see his shoulders start to relax as he grips your hand in yours.

“Look at that. It looks funny to me how polar opposite our hands are.” You stretch his out, raising it up to mirror yours, palm to palm. “Mine is stout and chubby, yours long and knuckly.” You chuckle to yourself regarding the assessment,

T’Challa interlaces his fingers in yours, his eyes smizing, “It’s a beautiful combination, I think. I need something soft to rest my hands on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at this statement. T’Challa kept doing things like this. You smile at him and he just smiles back, kissing the back of your hand gingerly, maintaining the hold as he drinks from his cup. Does he really not realize the double entendre or are you just too hot for him at this point? That’s something Tavia has practically put a countdown on: the time when you all fully express yourselves physically.

T’Challa says, “We have a community get-together happening this weekend by the way. You could come by; there will be food, music, games, the works. I’ll be working a little bit of everything, trying to spread the word of our program for people to take advantage of, but I could escort you around.” T’Challa says with a smile.

“Oh yeah! I’d love to see you in action over there. You had me at free food, but you know, the kids are the future as well.” You quip.

T’Challa scoffs, “Well that’s what the food is there for. Cheapest advertising tool known to man.” T’Challa looks at his watch, “I think I may have taken more of your time than I anticipated.”

You look at your phone at get a mini heart attack. Someone may actually notice your absence this time. You could just say you were in the bathroom the whole time. You both get up to leave the coffee shop.

Once outside you guys turn to each other. A thought crosses your mind and you start to speak but decide against it.

T’Challa, always observant, notices. “What’s on your mind, umhle?”

“Uhh...I don’t, mm.” You bite your tongue.

T’Challa rests his hand on your arm, sending an electricity through you that you found to be completely unfair. “If you can’t make the community event, it is alright. Your rest is more important. And I know you have plenty other things to do.”

“No, it’s not that. But um, are...do we…” T’Challa looks at your expectantly. “Are we...exclusive?”

There it is. Something that has been plaguing you for a while is how much you guys have hung out and gotten to know each other, but you couldn’t place if you guys were good friends who just kiss sometimes, or if he was looking for anything more.

“Are we exclusive?” T’Challa parrots back.

You nod, not wanting to say much else out of embarrassment.

T’Challa steps in front of you slowly leaning to whisper in your ear, “I don’t kiss my friends the way I kiss you, umhle.”

His bass snakes your inner ear like the serpent on an apple, as you twinge to keep your juices from flowing on sight.

He pulls from your ear staring you, hand resting on your hip. “And I am a one woman kind of man, (Y/N). Don’t think anyone else could carry a single percent of my attention from you.” Looking to your mouth he hovers his over it before allowing you to close the gap between you. His lips fit with yours perfectly as the suction creates a chorus of smacks, sealing the definition of your relationship.

A low grunt comes from T’Challa as he sighs deeply pulling from you. “So, do you like me? Yes or no?” He smiles goofily at you as you laugh at his childish question.

Stifling your smile, you say, “Maaaybe. But it’s in your favor.”

Heading back to your place, Tavia is posted on the couch with an array of books and papers scattered around her. She is back in school to earn a certification in something you keep forgetting.

Tavia looks at you over her glasses, “Whaddup, doh?”

“Nuthin much, girl. You?” You kick off your shoes and throw your keys in a bowl.

“Hun, you lookin at it. Procrastination remains the death of me. Them white folks still giving you hell at the job?”

“Yeah, they stay lazing around and I’m tending the field like Boss asks.” You exasperate as you plop on the easy chair massaging your scalp.

“You need to get the fuck outta there. They don’t appreciate you. And you too smart for that busy work.”

“Yeah. It would be so much easier if I could just stay and not start all over in a new place, though.”

Tavia wags a finger, “Uh-uh. Cuz then you would be getting more responsibility that does not reflect in your pay. Leave!!”

You marinate on Tavia’s words. It seems like she’s right honestly. You have no position in that job and there is no way to work up because positions get taken quick or just aren’t available.

“At least we can get our frustrations all out on some canvas at the Sip and Paint Saturday. Groupon finally came through with something good.” Tavia says bobbing her neck as she reads her notes.

Your stomach drops as you remember the plan you made last week with her. “Uhh…”

Tavia snaps to look at you, “Uhhh? Uh what?”

You play with your fingers as you speak, “So I ran into T’Challa today…”

“And?” Tavia winds her hand in the air for you to hurry up.

“He has a thing at his non-profit. Like a block party type thing. I said I would help…” You squeak out, waiting for the storm to blown.

Tavia looks at you frozen with blank expression. “Ok, I see.”

You recoil into your body as you continue, “Are you mad?”

“NAH! You good! I get it, dick is important to lock down. I applaud your efforts.” Tavia whips out her phone. “I guess I’ll get back on this app life. The Groupon is only good in for a couple, not single.”

You go over to half hug Tavia, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Girl.”

“Tsk, make it up by making that dick dance for you. That’s all I ask.” She pats your head on her shoulder before rolling it to get you off her.

You go to your room as you hear Tavia’s phone pinging on and on. “See? I got options too!”

Saturday comes and you make your way to the park the community party was being held at. Balloons and tables were in abundance; speakers were playing everything you heard on the radio and then some. The smell of burgers and brats filled the air and your stomach instantly caved in with hunger. T’Challa said they were good on set up and really just wanted you to enjoy yourself for the most part.

Making your way through the crowd, you go to the food table to fix a plate. You smile and thank the servers as they pile your plate with the goods. Once you make it to the dessert area, you feel two hands grip sides, making you jump a little.

“I have to admit, the sweets on that table would only disappoint you.” A voice you know too well tickles your hearing as his lips greet the side of your face.

You turn to see T’Challa smiling at you. “They look pretty good to me, what’s the problem?”

“As sweet as your lips are, they’d only taste sour.” he says screwing his lips in disgust before planting his mouth on yours. You didn’t need the plate or dessert if this was all that touched your lips today.

“Brother! This is not the way you introduce me to your girlfriend, eh?” a voice says behind you.

A young lady with braids in a bun shakes her head clicking her tongue at the both of you. “Shame, shame, I must say. We have health codes to maintain, please move the PDA along elsewhere.”

T’Challa smiles speaking to her, “(Y/N), this talkative volunteer is my sister, Shuri. I told you about her a little bit.”

Shuri nods proudly, sticking her hand out. “The pleasure is all mine. I am the subject of many people’s conversations, I’m just that memorable. And don’t let him fool you, I am running this operation, not just volunteering.”

Taking her handshake, you buck your eyes at T’Challa “Oh?”

T’Challa shifts his weight, pursing his lips, “Shuri, you know better than to fib. This isn’t Wakanda, you have a secondary position here.”

Shuri waves her hand in his face, “Ah ah ah! Bump all of that, Brother. Science and tech is the most important aspect of the program, no surprise. The public schools here do nothing to emphasize the importance and hone their knowledge to be able to apply what they learn outside the classroom. Also, I meant the picnic anyway. You barely lifted a finger to decorate.”

“Bast! I did more than life a finger. Anything heavy was my job to handle! Cutting up cake is not ‘doing everything’.” T’Challa exclaims.

Shuri holds a fist up to her face and demonstrates a winding motion next to it. “I wonder what will pop up?” Her middle finger slowly unravels.

“Can I get the apple pie, please?” a person asks.

Shuri drops her hands and puts on a winning smile, “Of course! We have plenty, so don’t hold back!” She says as she hands over a pre-cut slice.

You were getting your life to the back and forth between T’Challa and Shuri. Rubbing T’Challa’s back you dismiss yourselves. “Thank you Shuri, and it was so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, (Y/N). He can’t shut up about you, so use that to your advantage.”

T’Challa moans in frustration shaking his head as he leads you away to a table to sit.

You sit and start to to smack on your food.

“(Y/N), I’m going to make rounds for a bit. Will you be ok here?”

You nod with a mouth full of food hindering your speech. T’Challa smiles, kissing your forehead as he walks toward some informational tables. The whole party seemed to be a smash hit. Hordes of people walked around enjoying the sites and music. Kids ran after each other and got their faces painted. Shuri moved from the dessert table to the science area where she and others demonstrated simple experiments making fog and foam appear from virtually thin air. There was a mini exhibit on an element called ‘vibranium’ that you hadn’t heard of before so maybe you would check that out.

Finishing your plate, you definitely had The Itis, so you needed to get up and do something. You weren’t sure where T’Challa went, but you went around to enjoy the sights regardless. You played a couple of the carnival games, trying to knock bottles down with a nerf gun and that one cornhole game that’s always a classic.

You waited in line forever to get your face painted and while the clown lady was giving you a gorgeous flower on your cheek, a voice calls out to you.

“Yaaass! Getcho face BEAT for the Gods!”

Turning slightly to not mess up the creation, you see Tavia made it to the party.

“Hey girl! Whatchu doin here? You didn’t say you were coming!” You exclaim taking her hand lovingly.

“I love surprises though, so here I be! I did wanna be nosy too though. Where’s Tobago?”

You roll your eyes, “Tavia, I will knock you clean the fuck out if you get his name wrong in front to his face. T-Cha-lla.”

“Listen, it only matters that you get Thalia’s name right. Don’t worry bout me! Where is he anyway?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I thought he would be escorting me around but he got caught up in the mix I guess. Why are you here though? Ain’t Sip and Paint tonight?”

Tavia nods, “Uh-huh. I found a willing participant to accompany so I’ll be leaving, like now.”

The lady gives you a mirror to show you the finished art on you. “Ok, well have fun. I know this is about to wrap up too in like 15 minutes, so if I don’t do anything after, I’ll be home.”

“Please, do something else! You made your way out here for the nigga to abandon you for most of it. He owes you somethin!” She raises her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Ok! Bye!” You say dismissing her.

As Tavia leaves, you look around to see where T’Challa went. Instead, you see Shuri breaking down the science exhibit area and decide to ask her.

“Hey, Shuri. Have you seen your brother around?”

Shuri looks across the way, “I don’t know actually but I hope he is deflating the bounce house. People will keep coming and kids will never leave if that stays up.” Shuri struggles to fold a table and you reach down to bend the leg joint of it so it folds.

“Ugh, thanks (Y/N).”

“No problem! Do you need help with anything else around here? I got nothing else to do.”

Shuri nods looking around, “If you collect some tablecloths and toss them. They are disposable so we aren’t keeping them. After that, we got tables we are loading up in the trucks nearby. Don’t wear yourself out though! Just a couple would be a great start and you can leave whenever you want.”

“Ok, will do. This was an amazing event by the way.”

Shuri laughs with her tongue out, as she brushes her shoulders off, “I does what I can!”

Collecting the tablecloths you think about how beyond her years Shuri appears to be. The girl is a teenager, but is of course so smart and has a great business-head on her shoulders. Plus it was so cute to hear her talking shit with her accent; she really was down! You wanted to be her when you got your life together.

With all of the tablecloths disposed of, you head to tipping a table and getting it folded.

“Eh! My sister has you working now?” T’Challa comes out of nowhere, reaching to fold the legs down.

“No, I volunteered! I wasn’t doing anything else so…”

T’Challa raises the table on its side, walking the table to the truck. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot of behind the scenes stuff that I had to help with that was...unexpected.”

You nod, quiet. You couldn’t hide your disappointment. “I still saw a lot though, escorted on not. This place was hopping with shit to do.”

T’Challa steps in front of you, grasping your chin, eyes locked on you suddenly. Your insides jump at the anticipation of what was to come from his touch.

He turns your head slightly to the left, studying your art, “Ahhh, a purple flower. It almost resembles the Heart Shaped Herb from back home.”

Your pace steadies as you realize his intentions. “Yeah? I just wanted something pretty and purple and boom! There it is.”

T’Challa nods, licking his lips as he studies your face. Letting go, he say, “Let me make it up to you. We could get some dinner...or a movie.” You contemplate the options. “Or both? We could really paint the town if you want, so we can catch up.” He says softly caressing your painted cheek. Your center began to throb again. T’Challa was always making it impossible to think clearly when he is talking about completely normal things but not giving you any room to breath. If it weren’t for the people around, you would press up on him right now; that’s what you wanted to do!

“Both is good,” you squeak out before moving away to go back to get another table. You walked with a bounce to ensure he would have a show as you walked away.

T’Challa had three tables down as you had just finished folding your one. Walking it back to the truck, your foot hits a hole in the ground you didn’t see. You lose your balance as you try to hold the table, but it sends you off kilter even more. A sharp pain shoots through your ankle as you land, the table plops on top of you.

You yelp in pain as you try to push the table off and not move your leg. Suddenly the table is clear off of you and you see T’Challa over you, face riddled with worry.

“(Y/N), are you ok? Where are you hurt?” He asks, kneeling and holding your head in his hands.

You point down to your leg. “My ankle! God!”

Shuri has come over to look it over. She presses something on her bracelet causing a stream of light to cascade over your swelling foot. Your skeletal make up in your ankle is revealed for a short period.

“What is that?” you ask, having never seen that kind of technology.

Ignoring you, Shuri says, “It isn’t broken, thank Bast. We can’t handle an OSHA case right now, right brother?” Shuri jabs him, chuckling. T’Challa’s returned expression snaps her back to a professional tone. “Like I said, not broken, just sprained so she needs to lay off of it a while: wrap it, ice it, the works.” She instructs as she heads back to her duties.

T’Challa nods, “Ok, come (Y/N). I’ll take you home.”

You didn’t protest this time. Your ankle hurt like hell, so a free ride couldn’t hurt. T’Challa reaches your arm around his shoulders and reaches his arm under your knees to lift you.

“Whoa, whoa! I don’t like that. Please, I’ll hop.” you say.

T’Challa looks at you incredulously, “It will be faster if I carried you.”

Your body tenses up, “Come on, I don’t wanna...weigh you down or whatever. Please, this is embarrassing enough.”

T’Challa bats his eyes realizing the problem, “Do you think I cannot lift you?”

You lean your head back, mortified. “I know you are strong, I can tell. But I’m a sturdy gal, I’m just trying to warn you.”

T’Challa sucks his teeth, going at lifting you again. You close your eyes tightly as your weight becomes nothing in his arms. You feel the bounce of his stride as you peak to see you are in motion. T’Challa looks ahead, no signs of strain, he looks at you and winks. Your cat could meow with how good he was making you feel right now showing off himself. You hadn’t been lifted since grade school, and your current boo does it like you are a toddler. God bless it.

T’Challa puts you down a moment to get the door to his Lexus open. T’Challa takes your hands as you slowly sit down, folding your legs in, careful to not bump your ankle against the door.

“How are you feeling?” T’Challa asks, resting his hand on your knee, eyes wide with concern.

You nod, “I’m good, don’t worry.” You cup the side of his face, causing him to lean his face into your palm. He turns to kiss your palm before getting up to close your door and make his way to the drivers’ side.

Starting the engine, he asks, “Alright, now what is your address?” as he searches for the GPS program in his dash. You give it to him, praying to God Tavia hadn’t made it home yet.

Once you guys are on the road, T’Challa reaches over for one of your hands in your lap. “Are you still ok?”

“Yeah, more than. Thanks, by the way, for the ride.”

“Ahh, don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do. You were such a big help today.” T’Challa says gripping your hand a little tighter.

“Hardly! I took down two tables and almost broke an ankle. Plus we won’t be able to go out tonight cuz of me.” You say disappointedly.

“If I was by your side like I said I would, there would be known of these issues to begin with.” T’Challa takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

You almost forget your ankle when he warms you up like that. A man admitting fault was a big turn on, you had to admit. And you loved how affectionate he was, without pressure; just enough. Looking at your ankle you remember something from earlier, “What was that device Shuri used? It was like a portable X-Ray device?”

T’Challa nods slowly, “Precisely what it was. Shuri developed it in her lab in Wakanda and it’s been pretty vital to our village.”

You think on this, “Wow, you guys have a lot more to you than I imagined. It’s beautiful.”

T’Challa smirks, “The Western media would make you think we are impoverished but we have handled ourselves without outside help, and I think that says something.” Your mind was churning with so many other questions but before you knew it, you guys made it your your place.

Luckily you all have an elevator, so T’Challa only carried you, without hesitation, to the elevator then your door. Setting you down, you get your keys together to find the one for your door.

“Umm, once I get inside, I should be able to manage if you need to make it back to the park.” you say nervously.

“Oh, they wouldn’t miss one person, I think. If it’s comfortable with you, I want to check your ankle once more before I head back, though.” He looks at you with a serious expression.

You nod, turning to the door to hide your excitement. As you open the door, the apartment is dark and quiet, so Tavia must be having a good night. Turning on the lights, you start hobbling to the couch. T’Challa doesn’t miss a beat, ducking under your arm to support you as you sit down.

T’Challa takes a couple decorative pillows and props them under your ankle, lightly inspecting it.

“Well it doesn’t look worse, which is good. Do you have little baggies and ice?”

You nod and point, “The fridge makes it, yeah. And the drawer under the microwave should have some lunch bags to fill.”

T’Challa gets to work, Macgyvering an ice bag for you. As you lay back, you catch yourself smelling like the outside, and instantly get embarrassed. You can’t get comfortable when you’re funky anyway, plus T’Challa would help you hobble around so might as well use him while he is here.

“Uh, T’Challa, can you hold off on the bag for a second. I need to go to my room, if you can spare your shoulders.” you ask.

“All the more for you to lean on, umhle.” T’Challa says lovingly, as you direct him to the right room. “It’s nice to see how you live on a daily basis. You keep a nice home.” T’Challa says as you reach your room.”

“My roommate gets most of the decorating credit, I gotta say. I do tell her when to reel it in though, so points for creative direction goes to moi.”

As you step into your room, you declare, “So I need to shower, cuz yikes.” You say sniffing yourself. “But did you want to stick around or….”

“I would love to!” He answers a little quicker than necessary. “No problem at all. Do you want me to order something? We could still have our dinner here.”

“Yes! Good idea. Let’s just do a pizza, from that local spot we passed.”

“I am well aware of it. Excellent choice.” He takes his phone out as you get a change of clothes and head for the bathroom.

In the shower you give yourself a pep talk. You are a goddess, queen! With your prince out there lying in wait for this body. He wants ALLADIS, sis! Don’t get nervous, or shy. If you run out of things to talk about, hey, you are on a bed, fill in the blanks. Damn, Tavia really got into you.

You lather your body in berry scents as you rinse, giving yourself a towel off and quick moisturization. You picked some shorts and a baby doll tank to wear. Still pajamas, but with a hint of lingerie appeal. Opening the door you step out to see T’Challa flipping through the TV channels. His head cranes in your direction.

“I didn’t think I’d smell something so heavenly until the pizza arrived.” He says smiling, eyes darting down your body.

“Haha, good one.” You say limping to the bed, sitting back.

“Was it too….”

“Don’t!”

“....cheesy?” T’Challa says scrunching his nose.

You slap his back with an audible thud. He holds takes your calf, placing it on his lap to ice with the bag he made earlier. The cool sensation was relieving, making you moan audibly. You bite your lip when you realize how comfortable you were getting.

T’Challa massages your calf as he holds the bag on your ankle, “Does that relieve you, umhle?”

You nod before answering, “Yeah, it does. Keep doing it.” You say, your vocal cords suddenly laced with honey as your voice dips seductively.

T’Challa rubs your calf some more. “I told you it is nice to have something soft to rest my hands on.” studying your leg as he goes.

You could’ve jumped out of your skin with that comment. So he DID know the double entendre, sly devil!

You chuckle trying to keep from freaking out before saying, “I’m pretty soft just out the shower though, don’t be fooled. Takes a lot to maintain.” You make a face behind T’Challa at your words. Snatching an insult out of the jaws of a compliment, nice.

“You make it look effortless.” he says looking up at you. “You think you could lend me some products?” he says showing all those beautiful teeth to you.

You smile into your chest shaking your head. “You can have whatever you like. But you have to follow the steps or you’ll just be a mess!”

T’Challa squints at you, “Eh? What process are you talking about?”

You swallow, hoping this doesn’t go over his head, “Well, you are on the right track practically. I like to start with my calves, very important. But I have so much more leg to go.”

T’Challa nods slowly, appearing to understand. “I see, so then we go to…” His hand hovers above your thigh. You shiver in anticipation, “The knee!” planting his hand on your kneecap.

You guffaw, “Right! Can’t neglect ashy knees! True! Then what, Chacha?”

He looks at your knee quizzically like its a jigsaw to solve, “The only way to go is the…” and without a word he snakes his hand up your thigh. You bite your lip, elevating your hips under his touch.

T’Challa tucks his lips as he notices your movement, “Is your reaction normal for the process?” he asks as his voice has caught the honey coated timbre of seduction as well. His eyes glaze over, looking from your face to your body, mouthslightly agape to the treats he will hopefully be soon to receive.

His hands grip both your thighs, one working inner, the other outer; his long hands encompass the surface area of your thickness easily. Your walls start to talk back to you, awaiting their turn for a massage.

“When it’s done right, yeah.” you say, unafraid at this point. You pull T’Challa’s face into yours, gripping the back of head. The kiss starts off as your regular ones do, only once did T’Challa try to slip tongue, but you go into a schoolgirl giggle fit when he had. This time was different, there was no ‘will he, won’t he’ because you were both on the same page. Your mouths opened simultaneously to welcome each other in. T’Challa moves your leg away gently as the ice bag falls to the floor. One of his hands grips your booty cheek, spreading it about like dough. You felt the spread in your lips as you moaned against his mouth, gripping his back to wrestle his shirt up, feeling the warmth of his skin.

You lean back on the bed as T’Challa hovers over you, sucking your neck; the sounds sensations of his lips against you could make you climax on its own. Then he got the nerve to pepper your collarbone and chest area with kisses, gripping your titties up like the were ripe for the picking.

“I have been wanting to explore your body for weeks.” He says suckling on your neck in between. “You can’t imagine the torture I have sustained to remain respectful.”

You shiver at this confession. All the feelings you had and that he gave you were mutual. “I think I can, ‘Challa. I feel it, 10 times more.”

You hadn’t gotten this far before, and it was becoming overwhelming for you. You either had to stop or get it in. Reaching for the button of his pants, you were shooting for the latter. T’Challa freezes above you as he watches your hands undo his pants. His breathing is heavily laden as you work the fly down to relieve his growing protrusion.

T’Challa begins to ask, “Umhle, are you sure-” before there is a knock on the front door.

You instantly dry up as you forgot the pizza was on the way, dropping your hands frustratedly. T’Challa rests his head on your shoulder a moment, before unmounting you to gain his composure on the side of the bed.

You don’t see his face but an awkward amount of time passes before you sit up. “I’ll get the door...”

T’Challa waves his hand in protest, “No, you rest your ankle, I’ve got it, I just...need time.” He gets up, buckling and zipping his pants as he walks outside. You cross your arms in wait, thinking about what almost happened. You would have to take another shower with all the preheating he did to your oven.

T’Challa stands at the door with the box in his hand. “Did you want to eat in here?”

He looked at you like a lost puppy. You weren’t sure what he was thinking of, but you figured the moment between you both has passed for now.

You nod, patting the bed. “Yeah, nothing fancy here. Come on.”

T’Challa sits on the edge of the other side, placing the box between you both. He picks up the ice bag to place on your ankle once more, patting your leg like cattle this time.

The fresh smells makes your stomach churn as you remember how hungry you were, grabbing a slice; T’Challa takes one as well, taking a big bite. You turn the TV to one of your tried and true comedies to binge. As the canned laughter fills your room, you look over to T’Challa looking like he is about ready to doze off.

“T’Challa?” you call to him.

His eyes flutter open as he looks to you, a lazy smile spreads across his face. “I’m sorry, umhle. I’m more tired than I thought before.” He gets up to stretch, joints popping, groaning with relief.

“You can sleep over if you want...just sleeping, you know. You’re tired, I’m tired, let’s just...sleep.” you say rambling. You wanted to make sure there was no pressure to spontaneously perform again.

T’Challa leans over the bed kissing you on the side of your face. “You would take in a lost Wakandan to lay his head at your residence?”

You give him a defiant look, “I didn’t say the whole village, now. Just you!” You both laugh as he takes the pizza box and sets it on your table.

“Plus my ankle has felt much better since you been here.” You tell him as if he needed further convincing. He climbs in next to you, resting his head on you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Then let’s dream for a speedy recovery.” He says sleepily.

You feel his hand rub your side gently, slowing up until he goes to sleep. The hum of his breathing sounds so sweet to you as you close your eyes to listen to its melody. Turning off the TV, you shimmy down to lay next to him, stirring T’Challa only a little, who adjusts to pull you in for spooning as you call it a night. You thought about how wild the night progressed but you still wouldn’t change a minute of it. His arms beat the panther plushie you have been hugging on any day.

Morning rays flood your room as the sun woke you up. You start to stretch and jerk with alarm when you feel him around you still. You forgot for a second he stayed with you. Adjusting your titties back in your shirt, you hear him waking up behind you as well.

“Mmm, is it morning already?” T’Challa groaned.

“It is, Chacha.” You look back at him, eyes still squinting awake but smiling at nonetheless. “Do you want to do breakfast?” you ask turning to face him.

T’Challa rubs your back as he replies, “I wish I could. But I have to get back to the center to debrief about yesterday’s festivities. It’s already-” he looks at his watch. “9:30 am. I’ll be there around noon, so I’ll go home and freshen up first.”

You whine at his plans, rubbing his chest for coaxing, “I don’t want you to go yet…”

His forehead meets yours, “How about I order you breakfast to enjoy in my absence and we make a date for my place next week?” He looks at you for a reply.

You wipe some sleep out of his eye before answering, “I guess that sounds good.” You exchange smiles before pecking a kiss on each other.

Suddenly music blasts from the living room. Tavia has been on a workout kick that requires a trap soundtrack to stay motivated.

T’Challa winces at the noise, “And we can be free from interruptions...” He twirls a wayward twist in your hair. “Completely free to do...anything.”

You squeeze your thighs at the thought before squirming away to get up. “I’d like that, T’Challa. Let me walk you out.”

Opening your bedroom door, you see Tavia hopping from one side of the room to the other. She sees you come out.

“Hey girl! Listen, when I’m done, let’s do a brunch thing or somethin! I’m starving and got some stories for you!” After one rotation she looks back at you for reply, by now noticing T’Challa. Tavia stops in her tracks, pausing her video.

“Tavia, this is T’Challa.” You make faces, pointing at Tavia from behind him as he walks over to her.

“Nice to meet a friend of (Y/N)’s. I have heard wonderful things.”

“Same here...T’Cha...lla.” Tavia says dumbfounded. You give her a thumbs up.

You and T’Challa walk over to the front door going outside to kiss each other goodbye once more before closing the door.

You and Tavia look at each other in silence for a second before bursting out in shrieks and giggles, jumping around.

“That’s my BITCH! I see you with that morning after glow on you! Talk to me, tell me something GOODT!”

You guys park on the couch before you start, “Ok, so first things first, we didn’t sleep together; like we literally just slept.”

Tavia instantly checked out. “Oh HELL NO! Did he go down on you at least?”

You shake your head.

“Come ON, B! Well what the fuck is there to talk about?? How is he here in the morning but not for getting it in. You need to swipe your card before it expires!”

“It doesn’t expire, hoe! And I’m more than ready to swipe it, cash it, turn it in to the authorities, but if you let me tell the story-”

A knock raps on the door. You both look at each other confused before you get up to answer. Peeping through the hole, you see a delivery man, you think.

Opening the door, the man holds two sacks to you.

“Delivery, miss!”

“We didn’t order anything…” You say looking to Tavia.

The delivery man looks at the receipt. “A….Ms. Macchiato?”

The name rings bells. T’Challa said he would order breakfast for you, but you forgot to turn it down.

Tavia comes up behind you, “What is it?”

“T’Challa got us breakfast,” you say taking the bags and thanking him.

“Bish whet?? Gimme gimme gimme!”

Tavia rips open a bag to see the omelettes, hashbrowns, toast, boiled eggs, sausage, bacon.

Another knock comes to the door. You jump to get it.

“Here are the drinks too, Miss.” the delivery man huffs and puffs.

“Oh thank you!” you reply taking the OJ and apple juice cups.

Tavia is tearing through her spinach omelette when she says, “Ok, I’m ready to hear it. What freaky shit you put on him to do alladis??”

Part 5

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Song of Stevens

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@hairhattedghooligan@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14 @afraiddreamingandloving @kreolemami @lalapalooza718 @syreanne

No mans land Tags

afraiddreamingandloving groovybbyy and nyeebey, yall here too! I just can’t tag you for some reason <3</p>

#t'challa fanfic #t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #coffeeshop au #black panther au #black panther fanfic #marvel fanfiction #shakafic #fanfic

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legacyofpower · 6 years

Photo

DESCRIPTION

Mighty Morphin Green Ranger / Mighty Morphin White Ranger / Zeo Ranger V - Red / Turbo Red Ranger (I) / Dino Thunder Black Ranger

TYPE

Primary canon character

SUMMARY

The former original Green Ranger, Tommy would rather leave his dark past in Angel Grove’s dark past and move on like he already has. His conscious choice to keep the Rangers in the dark about his identity, though, puts him on the edge of a moral line that he’s not used to.

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Thomas Gabriel Oliver NICKNAME(S): Tommy AGE: 37 (Legacy of Power) DATE OF BIRTH: October 20th, 1978 GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender (he/him) ORIENTATION: Pansexual NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Chumash (retconned), French, German OCCUPATION: Reefside High biology teacher RELIGION: Christianity (Nondenominational)

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Jason David Frank HEIGHT: 5 feet 11 inches WEIGHT: 204 pounds HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown DOMINANT HAND: Right SCARS: A series of faded lines, left forearm TATTOOS: - PIERCINGS: Left ear

PERSONALITY

ARCHETYPE: The Ringleader (x) MBTI TYPE: INFJ-T MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor QUALITIES: Dedicated, sympathetic, tough, supportive, passionate FLAWS: Forgetful, rational, inventive, relaxed, tender NEURODIVERGENCE: Major Depressive Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

SKILLS

HOBBIES: Sparring, reading, exercising, skydiving, driving, geocaching, backpacking, scrapbooking, journaling, sleeping MENTAL SKILLS: Leadership, goal-setting, adapting, writing, strategizing, decision-making PHYSICAL SKILLS: Fighting (Brazilian jiu-jitsu, judo, karate, taekwondo), weapon specializing (knife, sword), sparring, skydiving, driving, exercising ABILITIES: Enhanced durability, enhanced senses, enhanced speed, enhanced strength

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Angel Grove, California, United States CURRENT RESIDENCE: Reefside, California, United States FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper class EDUCATION LEVEL: College graduate DEGREES: Bachelor of Science in Biology, Doctorate in Paleontology

RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: Unknown, biological father; Robert Oliver, adoptive father, deceased MOTHER: Unknown, biological mother; Laura Oliver (née Erickson), adoptive mother, deceased SIBLING(S): David Trueheart, older brother, deceased SPOUSE: Kimberly Ann Hart, wife CHILD(REN): - FAMILY: Theodore Hart, father-in-law; Steven Beaumont, stepfather-in-law; Madeleine Beaumont (née Graham), mother-in-law; Jacob Edward Hart, brother-in-law PET(S): P.C., blue bicolor Ragdoll; T.K., orange/white Bengal

APPEARANCES

Legacy of Power

Chapter 1: The Return to Angel Grove, Part I

Chapter 2: The Return to Angel Grove, Part II

Chapter 3: The Return to Angel Grove, Part III

Chapter 4: The Return to Angel Grove, Part IV

Chapter 5: Polar Plunge

Chapter 6: Gold Rush

Chapter 7: Residual Effect

Chapter 8: A Fractured Heart

Chapter 9: Aftershock, Part I

Chapter 10: Aftershock, Part II

Chapter 11: Apex Predator

Chapter 12: The Girls Next Door, Part I

Chapter 13: The Girls Next Door, Part II

Chapter 14: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Chapter 15: The King’s Gambit, Part I

#tommy's core trait is 1. he beefy and strong 2. he's married to kimberly #tv show tommy immediately becomes less interesting tho bc he's single :/#biography #b: tommy oliver #psd credit to ceozhang #s1: legacy of power

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uprising-hqarchive · 4 years

Photo

welcome to the wizarding world, kate!

we’re glad to have you. don’t forget to check the current timeline of events, and send in your account within the NEXT 24 HOURS. most importantly; don’t forget to have fun!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME/ALIAS, PRONOUNS — Kate, she/her TIMEZONE AND ACTIVITY — EST, I’m usually on most days and able to do replies every 1-3 days depending on what’s going on. I also tend to lurk on the ooc discord :) ANYTHING ELSE? — nope!

IN CHARACTER

— is that TEA LEONI? oh, no it’s just HERMIONE GRANGER-WEASLEY. SHE is a 49 year old MUGGLEBORN witch, whose occupation is HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT. i guess that’s why her former house is GRYFFINDOR. she is prepared for the uprising, her alliance is ORDER SUPPORTING.

BIRTHDAY: 19 September 1979

SOCIAL MEDIA: @mugglebornweasley

RESIDENCE: with her husband, Ron Weasley

EXTRA

CHARACTER NAME —

Hermione Jean Granger Weasley. When she married Ron, Hermione considered keeping her last name, but ultimately to her, family was more important, and she loves having the same last name as her kids.

BLOOD STATUS —

muggleborn — it’s been a thing that has often defined Hermione’s life circumstances, but she’s never let it define her. She’s proud of who she is and where she came from, and she’ll fight to prove anyone wrong who underestimates her because of her ancestry. Her parents may be muggles, but they’re smart, and even more importantly, they’re decent people.

BIRTHDAY —

19 September 1979 — having a birthday so close to the start of term meant that it was never all that specially celebrated during her time at Hogwarts, but Hermione never minded. She’s not one to like being fussed over, so her family still does her a favor and doesn’t make a big deal of it. She appreciates the cake that Molly bakes for her birthday dinner every year, though.

GENDER & SEXUALITY —

cis-female (she/her), heterosexual — Hermione has never been attracted to other women, just men — and honestly, mostly just Ron.

FORMER HOUSE —

Gryffindor — Some think Ravenclaw would have been a better option for someone as intelligent and booksmart as Hermione, but her courage and stubborn tendencies made her a perfect fit for Gryffindor, and she’s proud to have been sorted where she was. She knows that she learned more about what being a good witch truly means from her housemates than she ever would have learned from the more book-loving Ravenclaws.

OCCUPATION —

Hermione never intended to go into politics – she would have been happy mastering various academic disciplines and maybe one day settling at Hogwarts. But Kingsley had other ideas for her, and after she finished up her final year at Hogwarts alongside Ginny (and without Ron & Harry), she didn’t have the heart to refuse Kingsley when he asked her to take a job in his new Ministry that was desperately grasping to reform – and quickly. She’s long since given up hope that there’s any other career path for her, because she knows that walking away before she’s finished making their world a better place is not an option. But sometimes she wonders if Harry is better suited to this job than her – he’s used to people vehemently disagreeing with him, after all. And it’s hard for her to work underneath a Minister that she disagrees with so strongly — Hermione’s never been all that good at holding her tongue, but now it seems that her job often depends on that.

MARITAL STATUS/SHIPS —

Married to Ron Weasley. Some might think they’re polar opposites, but there really has never been anyone else for Hermione. She knows they bring out the best in each other (and admittedly, sometimes the worst as well, but always in order to work on becoming better people). She just doesn’t see anyone else but Ron.

But also, chemistry is fine too LOL.

FAMILY —

Hermione’s parents, Jean and Thomas Granger, both came from small families and were married later in life. After having Hermione, they chose not to have any other children, and she had a childhood that included very little contact with people her own age outside of primary school. All of her cousins were much older than her and her peers never seemed to like her much, so Hermione spent most of her time with the adults in her life or else buried in a book. As a result, Hermione is now often overwhelmed at the enormous size of the family that she married into. She loves the Weasleys and maintains close relationships with them, but she still finds it hard to find her footing among their rambunctious ways. Her parents often left her to her own devices, especially once she began at Hogwarts, so she finds Molly’s tendency to want to be overly involved even in her adult children’s lives to be a little smothering.

Hermione loves being a mother, though. Rose and Hugo are her greatest accomplishments, and she would do anything for them. As unused as she is to a big and bustling family, she loves being a part of it, and is so thankful to the way that the Weasley family has always accepted her as one of their own, especially after she married Ron.

POST HOGWARTS —

Eighteen and suddenly Hermione is free from the pressures of war that she’s lived under since becoming best friends with the Chosen One. Her formative years all took place under this pressure, so it’s hard for her to really comprehend who she is in a world at peace. In their younger years, there was hope that she could become more relaxed and lighthearted, but now she can’t seem to learn how to laugh again, let alone go anywhere without constantly looking over her shoulder. The months that follow the battle find Hermione living with the Weasleys, unable to face returning to her parents and living with people who just didn’t understand. She spends most of her days that summer at Hogwarts, helping to rebuild the castle in time for another year. The time she isn’t at Hogwarts or the Weasley’s, she’s with Harry, trying to help bring him out of his fits of depression.

When the time comes, Hermione returns to school without her two best guys by her side, but at least she has Ginny. She’s disappointed that Harry and Ron aren’t interested in finishing their education, but she’s not really surprised. Ron was never that motivated anyway, and there are too many ghosts here at Hogwarts for Harry to bear coming back so soon. Without them, though Hogwarts just doesn’t feel the same, and though Hermione’s happy to be back in academia, she’s glad when they finish the year and head out into the real world.

Hermione’s real preference would be getting an apprenticeship of some sort in Arithmancy, Potions, or Transfiguration (or all of them, honestly) and then after she masters those, maybe going into the teaching world. But the Ministry still has a lot of reform to go and she knows they need all the help they can get, so she can’t sit back and watch them flounder when she could offer her determination to the cause. SPEW is still very much near and dear to her heart, so she seeks a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It’s hard for her to find traction, but she stays stubborn and persistent, and slowly she’s able to help implement new regulations that improve the lives of many magical creatures, including House Elves.

Hermione and Ron became serious from the moment they kissed in the Battle of Hogwarts, immediately becoming an item afterwards. They never actually had a define-the-relationship sort of conversation, they just fell into each other, like they had always hoped they might. Their relationship wasn’t instantly easier now that they were able to admit they were in love with each other, but it did help both of their insecurities to die down a bit. They were married only a couple of years after Hermione graduated from Hogwarts, much to Molly’s delight and Harry’s slight chagrin. They decided to wait for a couple of years at least to have children, though, because Hermione wanted to advance enough in her career to make a difference before being tied down in that way.

When Ron and Hermione did begin trying for children, she found it difficult to conceive, but after a few years of trying to be patient and not agonize over it, Rose was born, and Hugo followed a couple of years after that. Hermione was delighted to be a parent, and while it wasn’t necessarily the big family she imagined, it was her family, and she loved them dearly. She was happy to have so many nieces and nephews for her children to grow up surrounded by, and weekly dinners at the Burrow were a time that everyone looked forward to.

Eventually, Hermione found herself working her way up in the Ministry (albeit somewhat unintentionally – she was just quick to offer opinions on things, and since she was a part of the Golden Trio, people tended to listen to her and take notice). She was eventually promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where she did a lot of good getting rid of some outdated and truly atrocious laws that were in place.

CURRENT —

Hermione was never naive enough to believe that darkness wouldn’t creep its’ way back in, even with all of the reform that their world has done. Still, it’s surprising and unsettling the way that things have developed, especially considering the restrictions that are being put in place to keep Hermione’s two worlds separate.

#uhq.accepted

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