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kurowrites · 4 years

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“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU Prompt for Wangxian, if you like?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

---

When Wei Ying woke up, he had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the bright glare of the lights overhead, momentarily blinding him. Something was weird. This definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, whose lighting was rather dim and most definitely off when he was sleeping.

He blinked a few times more and then turned his head to examine the room he was in.

It took him far too long to understand what he was seeing, but once his brain actually started processing it, there was no doubt. He was in a hospital room, complete with barren walls and the strong smell of disinfectant. But he had no memory that could explain why he would be waking up in a hospital bed. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d woken up here, or even what day of the week it was.

Impatient to have his questions answered, he tried to wriggle around and slip out of bed, but his body felt oppressively heavy, and his vision started to swim as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow.

Exhausted and distressed, he fell back into bed. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he feeling so terrible?

Just that moment, the door of the hospital room opened, and a nurse stepped in.

“Oh, you are awake,” she said. “Good.”

She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

(When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

(Who was going to count.)

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs headcanons #well not really #sweat #enter21

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gffa · 3 years

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I know I've brought this up before, but how much of the fandom reception of the prequels do you think stemmed from the genre dissonance? That the prequels, genre-wise, are closer to high fantasy, while the OT is more an adventure/space western/underdog triumph story.

The prequels also have elements more reminiscent of a romantic period/court drama/Shakespearean tragedy, while if you consider the underdog angle of the OT, the OT also seems kinda similar to some of those inspirational movies about sports teams or something, or a shonen anime with the "Power of Friendship".

I'm just saying, these are rather disparate genres that tend to attract different demographics of people.

And not many people tend to be... great about understanding why they don't like something, much less putting it into words, or understanding that they can dislike something without that something being actually bad. (For example, instead of "I just don't really like [thing]," the usual statement is something along the lines of "[thing] absolutely sucks.")

So the usual response is trying to find (and gather) solidarity while putting down or being condescending towards any dissent, and trying to justify their own dislike. (*gestures vaguely towards pineapple on pizza*)

And historically, it's not uncommon for people to... react strongly towards things they find... different or abnormal, which they judge based on themselves, their emotional response to something, and what they're used to.

Looking at kids, this behavior is... fairly normal. "You're weird," "ew, why do you like that, that's gross," "that's stupid," and so on. A lot of kids/teens/young adults also get defensive really easily. And let's face it--adults are basically just older, taller kids who've had to deal with more of life.

(To be honest, I also get defensive really easily. A lot of people do, and it's... it's normal. The defensive reaction can be lashing out, denial, or just being passive-aggressive or staying silent and tuning it out or mentally rolling your eyes at it. But I'm trying to work on it, because just because it's normal doesn't mean it's a good reaction.)

So, what I'm wondering is whether some fans dislike the prequels simply because it's a different genre...

...but instead of realizing that, they try to defend and justify their dislike by pointing fingers and criticizing whatever stood out or looked different from the OT or cherry-picking details/taking things out of context or making negative conflations (that can be refuted).

Because it's not about logic, it's about how they feel. And people want to feel justified and validated, and we want to feel like we're right and we enjoy staying in our comfort zones. So... yeah. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

LOL, okay, this response is going to be really disjointed because I went off in like a dozen different tangents and even then it's not enough to cover everything, so just kind of read this in a Scattered Thoughts Nerd kind of tone, where I'm staring off into the distance because Navel Gazing Gets Me Going Sometimes. 😂 In my experience, it's sort of a mix. I don't hang around a lot of people who dislike the prequels (in the sense of dismissing them/not being fannish about them) because, well, that's the heart of my interest in Star Wars, so our areas of interest basically don't really overlap that much, so I don't have a chance to talk to a lot of people and find out their reasons or even how they dislike the prequels, in the bigger trends of fandom. I do think there's an element of what you're talking about, that sometimes people can't just dislike things because it's not their genre of choice, that's absolutely a part of it. Mostly because that's how a lot of people react to anything they don't like (and it's something I and literally everyone else has to work on), there has to be a reason for it that it's objectively bad and, like, I have experienced a lot of people getting mad because I like something in a different way than they do. And I don't mean just in Star Wars fandom, but in almost any given fandom--if someone likes something in a way someone else doesn't, if they talk loudly about it (even within their own space), then there's always a contingent of people who have to find a reason why that person is objectively wrong (or even try to make them morally wrong), rather than just shrugging and going, "We see things differently, my view on things doesn't overwrite theirs and their view on things doesn't overwrite mine." It gets more complicated in instances where fandom attitudes genuinely can be hurtful, especially when they're overlapping into the way real people are treated, likes/dislikes don't 100% exist in a bubble, especially when it comes to queer fans, fans of color, disabled fans, mentally ill fans, etc. But that there are a lot of instances where fandom culture has always been--and is increasingly so--contentious and it's hard to chill out when someone is always screaming at you, when the atmosphere of the fandom is always so intense. Further, there's also an element of how fandom has always been--and also is increasingly so--about personal resonance, personal emotional investment, interpretation, and meaning. That sometimes we identify with something so deeply that we feel attacked when someone else likes or dislikes something we feel so strongly about, something that we feel is a reflection of ourselves, and I see a lot of that as well. And this, too, often crosses over into lines of how the context of how we treat characters can be reflections of how we treat real world people, but that there's no monolith here as well. For example: I make fun of Anakin, this angers some people, because how dare I not take this fictional victim 100% seriously, despite that I have repeatedly said that Anakin is the character I most identify with, that things I make fun of him for are ones that I resonate with personally. I'm not disrespecting mentally ill people, especially considering that Anakin is not bound to a single interpretation on this front--he is not canonically mentally ill, no matter how easy it is for us in fandom to map much of that onto his character or, in my case, feel that so much of what I see in him are things I struggle with myself. By and large, the majority of the people I see (at least on tumblr) who make fun of Anakin are doing so within the same vein, that they're being silly about him on things that they personally relate to. (My experiences on this are not universal, I cannot speak for the whole of even any one part of fandom, only my own sphere of experience, but this is what I've seen.) As always, it's fine if someone doesn't vibe with my style or they find that it's not their thing because they do take him more seriously, but that preference does not make my jokes

suddenly not have the context that I relate a lot to what I see in Anakin. In contrast, the way some of the fandom treats Mace or Finn isn't just personal all the time. Not liking their characters isn't inherently racist, but the way they're consistently, consistently treated sure as hell speaks to a larger pattern of racism in fandom and doesn't come without that context. It's the same with Rey--is there a huge vein of misogyny when it comes to her character? Abso-fucking-lutely there is. Things Luke and Anakin get a pass on, Rey is raked over the coals for. Is everyone who dislikes Rey a misogynist? Not even close. Some don't like her because Finn was used as a prop for her story. Some people don't like her because she got sucked into Kylo Ren's story too much. Some just don't care for the way she was written for other reasons. Some just don't vibe with her. It's fine. Nothing is a monolith. And to circle this back around to what you're talking about--it's hard to judge, both because no part of fandom is a monolith in their reactions, but also because we're only hearing from a selection of the fans. How do you know how many people who aren't fans of the prequels, who just don't care for them because it's not their genre, but just go about their day? You don't hear from a lot of them because they moved on to things they do like, so it seems like they must not exist--except, they do, and they're just out there doing things they like more. We only hear from the people who feel the need to tell others they dislike the prequels for this reason or that reason, some valid, some less valid, etc. Ultimately, I do think there's probably a fair amount of genre dissonance for why people dislike the prequels and channel that into "they're objectively bad" and get defensive when people like them and say they were great, but only because that's true of anything anywhere. But that it's only one small slice of the bigger picture (and there's a lot of stuff that I had to eschew in the writing of this response as well because it can be a pretty sprawling topic), where there are tons of reasons and reactions that people have, as well as they're perfectly free to dislike the prequels for whatever reason they do or don't have, it doesn't really affect my opinions, unless they're trying to shove it in my face or are being a dick to those who disagree with them.

#lumi.txt #idk how to tag this

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padawanlost · 3 years

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the clones were essentially slaves and the jedi allowed it. they are in fault for accepting the army in the first place; and for those who think this is a hard pill to swallow; apathy by not calling out they were slaves. i really think this shows the corruption in both the republic and the order itself but most people defend the jedi for some reason. the jedi weren’t the only victims of order 66; the clones who got their free will overridden were somehow always out of the question. having a inhibitor chip that somehow can control your actions is a scary dystopian-ic sort of concept.

and yet, the clones had to go through this but no one acknowledges that because they don’t want to blame the jedi for accepting what essentially is a slave army 🤷

yeah i have a lot of feelings

I think we live in age where being fan means refusing to acknowledge we don’t like. sure, fandoms are supposed to be fun so it’s normal for us to want to engage only with the parts that make us happy. However, I’ve been noticing with growing concern a new trend where only the parts we want to engage are welcomed as valid fandom community.

The Jedi Order is prime example of this. We have fans who love them, fans who hate them and fans who enjoy them in parts. All are fans, all are valids. But I’ve noticed that, tumblr at least, is no longer a safe place for fans who want to discuss topics that ‘jedi stans’ find unflattering.

Not to sound all fandom-elder but back in my day when someone said something like ‘I think the Jedi did something wrong’ someone would disagree and life would go one. now it seems people who want to talk about anything beyond the ‘I love this and everything about is perfect’ mentality is considered a fandom-terrorist. Someone who is actively ‘ruining’ the fandom experience for everyone else, even if said ‘hater’ is not engaging with anything, even if they are simply posting their opinion on their own blog. Considering we are talking about a platform where performative wokeness is the norm, it’s not all that surprising that people will resort to self-victimization when arguments fails them.

What any of this has to with do with clone slavery? Everything! Because that’s a sour topic in this fandom. it’s amazing how something so painfully obvious – slavery is *always* wrong – became such controversial topic. It says a lot about the overall mentality of the fandom when people argue pro-slavery because the opposite would mean their fave character did something morally wrong.

Again, when wokeness is perfomative something as innocent as enjoying a fictional character can put a crack in the image you’re trying to sell. If you’re a victim of cruel, abusive fandom that is ‘ruining everything’ for you, of course everything you consume must be pristine as your image. On top of that, if the fans (who disagree with you) are inherently evil and wrong, you don’t have to spend as much time and energy arguing their points. You can just say they are bad people and get some sympathy points.

To make matter worse, after the ‘stan culture’, we also have to deal with racism and sexism. If you pay attention to the argument defending clone enslavement and the role everyone played in it, you’ll notice the issue is not so much that people don’t care about slavery and murder. They simply don’t care about the enslavement and murder of anyone who isn’t a (white) favorite.

For everyone fan saying Anakin was wrong in killing innocent tusken children, there’re at least 3 fans saying they deserved it because they were savages who needed to pay for their parents crimes (or that killing them made the people safer). However, these same fans will relentlessly argue that Anakin killing that cute little boy in ROTS is one of the most vile crimes put on screen because he was such innocent, pure little boy.

The same goes for the clones. Anakin and Obi-wan being enslaved for a few days was traumatizing, cruel, vile, etc; the clones being enslaved for years and used as cannon fodder is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (the main point being that everyone, including the jedi, did everything they could to save the clones…and by everything they could, they usually mean nothing at all)

More recently, we have the clone wars finale. A heartbreaking hour of tv made to illustrate how cruel and unfair the war was *for the clones* and yet the main complaint was the show not taking its time to show the real victims of Order 66 (the jedi). We had a whole blockbuster, full-length movie illustrating the tragic end of the Jedi Order but people were still pissed Filoni dedicated an hour to show the clones were victims too.

To be honest, I’m done arguing this because experience has told me people aren’t interesting in talking about the issue, they just want their faves to look good. They don’t really care about the clones beyond their relationship with the beloved Jedi (Obi-wan’s men, Anakin’s men, Plo Koon’s men…they are never viewed as their own men, men who should be allowed a choice to exist beyond the role forced – and enforced – upon then).

I’ve said this a countless time before and I’ll say it again, there’s no justification for slavery. No righteous course action beyond doing everything in your power to stop it, and if you don’t have any power to act by yourself it’s your moral (and legal) duty to make sure people with power act on your behalf. If you’re not a legal enforces, you can still make sure you vote for the right leaders, protest, write letters, contact the government, go on strike, protests, etc. sitting on your ass because ‘there was not nothing you could do’ is not a valid (or even accurate) option when it comes to the enslavement of human beings. And, imo, it’s fucking sad this even needs to be said.

The clones, the children and everyone else enslaved in the GFFA deserved better, deserved someone willing to help them, deserved more than empty words and gestures. And that’s a hill I’m more than ready to die on.

But hey, wtf do i know?

[The Jedi] are being corrupted by this war, by being forced to be generals instead of peacemakers. – George Lucas

#ask #lukegarmadon #sw meta #meta: fandom #clone troopers #meta: clones #gffa slavery #txt #jedi order #jedi politics

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katsidhe · 3 years

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15.17 Final Thoughts (1/2)

.....part one, because I realized I wanted to talk about basically every goddamn scene. I’m dividing this roughly based on Dean-centric and Not Dean-centric thoughts.

Who is the villain? Fighting against narrative-fate and fighting against order-fate are two similar but subtly and crucially different ideas. Chuck-as-narrative is contrary to the idea of endings in a way that Billie-as-order is not. Both agents of some definition of fate, but Chuck is a force in fundamental opposition to decay. He drags things out, he reassembles his favorite pieces over and over. Death, inasmuch as she is an agent of order, is entropic. Part of order is the chaos of natural unspooling, the inevitable unwinding of a clock.

And there was something fascinating in how s14 laid these pieces out: narrative resurrections as the villain, the peace of natural endings as the goal. To defy the God that kept Sam and Dean living past their natural years is to embrace Death. This episode pulled something like a philosophical reversal in setting up Death—and therefore both types of fate—as something which must still be defied, and I am confused and interested. Essentially, what I viewed in some ways as the fundamental meta-narrative question of s15—coming to terms with an ending when that ending has been delayed at all costs for years and years—is being fought and naysayed by Sam, of all people. I’m still noodling on this one, and I might have more to say later.

What does this even mean, to defy Death? Sam’s (weak, tbh) justification of why Billie as Supreme Ruler would be a bad thing is that her power would specifically undo certain wrinkles in the cosmic order that he and Dean have been party to. But which? How far back would this go? What kind of magics would be undone, would we have, like, a hard reset to season 2? Because that would be Bad for sure. But if Billie would simply be sending a handful of people off to overdue ends, and ensure no more demon/angel shenanigans, I don’t really see the problem with handing her the keys to the kingdom. I guess Sam’s point is that we don’t know, Billie has obviously been less than forthright, and we probably should take a second to think about who we’re giving absolute power to, and why, but. Idk.

[To be involved in the underpinnings of fate is to have some of those powers… can we discuss the Winchesters’ complicity in determining how the universe is structured?]

Part of this also feels like it slots into how Sam has moved on from the concept of martyrdom as a panacea to apocalyptic ills. He and Dean have both tried it over and over, and even when it’s accomplished something good for awhile the universe inevitably unspools further. His frustration with Jack’s willingness to sacrifice himself here reeks with the same frustration Sam had with Dean in 14.12, carrying his coffin behind the car.

To what extent is Chuck lying about his control over the meta narrative? I’d say, a fair amount. His frustration has, in this season and in this episode, seemed very private and genuine. I think he’s adjusting most of this on the fly.

Jack successfully wins Adam’s rib by identifying that the divine is nested in every rock. Does this make anyone else uneasy at the idea of the plan to obliterate anything divine with a black hole spell? Just me?

Sam infiltrated the library of Death herself, got ambushed unexpectedly by a hostile cosmic power, and quickly discerned its motives and knowledge while being tortured. And then he pulled the SMOOTHEST LIE of this entire damn show right out of his ass. Sam, we aren’t worthy of you.

Cas’s one contribution this episode was to compliment Sam for looking for a different solution. (I did the same thing, Cas, so I think this makes me as important as you.) But significantly, Cas does this specifically by affirming 1) Sam’s moral compass and 2) Sam’s sanity, and this is a big thing, because those two points are the accusations that Dean (and others) most frequently uses to tell Sam he’s in the wrong.

Something Cas does NOT do is intervene when Dean points a gun at Sam, even though guns don’t hurt him. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This could be viewed as a mere issue of staging, but I prefer to slot it into the pattern of Cas finding it difficult to stand up directly to Dean in late seasons.

Jack quietly asks Sam if he’s angry or disappointed. He doesn’t bother asking Dean; he knows. Sam, with candor that Jack utterly deserves from him, tells Jack that he is impressed by Jack’s courage but that he thinks this plan is wrong. Sam doesn’t push harder than this, and he doesn’t say anything to Jack when Jack overhears Dean’s outburst: he just smiles this awful, awkward little smile, the plaster over the ways their relationship has been crumbling and unsteady with the weight of everything that has gone unsaid since 13.23. Jack understands where Sam stands so much less than he understands Dean.

Jack’s got this horrible, twisted air of maturity and gravitas this episode, as he goes to his unnecessary death. He is thoughtful and solemn; he insists he understands and accepts Dean’s condemnation. He is more placid than he was in 14.20, and even more cooperative, because he feels that he’s chosen this path for himself. I found myself comparing his attitude with Sam’s in 5.22: it’s very “I’m the least of any of you”, even though it’s tempered by Jack’s relative fearlessness (he’s going to oblivion, not torment). He’s likewise doing this out of guilt as much or more than necessity, and in service to a larger picture he doesn’t understand.

I really, really want Amara and Jack to bond over their shared status of Superpowerful Cosmic Beings Who Deserve Better.

Amara wanted nothing more than to believe the best of Dean, and then of Chuck. When Chuck offers her equality and love and partnership, she weeps with how much she wants to believe him. Amara’s acceptance of Chuck, and Sam’s acceptance of Dean are both chilling versions of “unity”, when they have both spent so long sidelined and subordinated by their brothers.

We are in endgame, and this is the first episode that made me feel it. I’m gonna write more about this in Part Dos, but this episode felt like a SPN thesis.

part two, dean boogaloo, coming tomorrow

#final thoughts #spn spoilers #15.17 #sam and dean #dean and jack #sam and jack #amara #sam and death #sam and chuck #I want to talk about this episode So Goddamn Muchhhhh okay

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thatpinkbetch · 4 years

Text

I'm going to answer it this way, because I'm actually not a fan of some of those, and I've heard this is the way to do it if you don't want it ending up in the tag or the search I think? If i censor any of the ship names it's not out of malice! I simply don't want any of this to end up in front of eyes that just want to enjoy their ships 💖💖💖 if there is anyone who doesn't want to see opinions against t*d*d*ku, k*r*b*ku, or even iz**ch*ka, please don't read any further! Oh my goodness i hope this is all legible...

Anyways, hello!! Thank you so much for the ask!! I love talking about my opinion avkvmsocnaocjsoxks it also makes me really happy you like my blog 🥺🥺🥺 (I hope this answer doesn't ruin that avskvneognsocjs)

I'll start out by confirming that I'm not a multishipper. It makes me excited to see how the act of shipping itself can make others happy, but it's just not that way for me. I actually never read fanfic until I got into bnha (bkdk is just that powerful 😁😁) I'm actually...a little serious when i ship, or when i enjoy media, i analyze pretty heavily, so also, if that doesn't sound like anyone's cup of tea, i would once again recommend to stop reading and enjoy your day please!

I love analyzing characters and storylines and dynamics, but i will admit, I'm not a fan of most of the ships - not romantically. I think all the characters have interesting relationships to each other, all of the kids are great friends, and I love bonds and friendships so much 🥺🥺🥺

Those first two are perhaps the biggest, at least they definitely were the biggest when I first entered. Once i caught up, I didn't really understand the enthusiasm, but people have fun shipping, so that's nice! I think of those two as easy ships, if that makes sense? They're pretty simple, and easy to digest.

I personally am not a fan of romantic t*d*d*ku for a very specific reason; it feels weird to me for Todo to immediately fall in love with the first person who's ever shown him kindness (since his mother of course). Todo had never had any friends, nor any want for friends, obviously because of the abuse he faced as a child. Mido was his first exploration at a life outside of his father, a life he got to make for himself, it just doesn't feel right to me that he should immediately think "oh, is this romantic love? Is this the one and only for me?" Well, perhaps a teenager might think that way, but i don't think that's actually how he feels deep down, and I'm sure that's something a lot of us have to learn as we grow (I've definitely struggled with my own understanding of romance for the past 8 years). I think he still is trying to learn how to socialize and to make friends and to be a friend (and he's doing SUCH a good job!) But to immediately plunge into romance, which can be complicated, i don't think that would be right for him. I hope that makes sense! I know they're a very cute ship, which makes for fun! But again, I can be a little serious when i ship...

K*r*b*ku kind of falls into similar territory for me? Baku definitely had friends growing up, but he's seemed to always have trouble understanding his feelings and where he stands with others, causing trust issues. Kiri is really the first person he knew where he stood with, a person for him to be comfortable with and feel on equal ground, which i think is such a huge and positive role in his life, and i don't necessarily think that it needs to be romantic - for both of these, i think these relationships are incredibly important, to everyone involved, and making them romantic doesn't make them any more important!! In fact, i feel like them as friends actually can offer a more complex, interesting, and human dynamic between these characters, as sometimes people simply default to romance and then end up pushing for the same old tropes and ignore all the intricacies Horikoshi includes in his writing.

Again, I love Mido's friendship with Todo, and I love Baku's friendship with Kiri. I think these relationships are incredibly important, and friends are incredibly important. People who ship them are having fun, which is so lovely, and i hope they continue to have fun! I hope you personally find more fics about them that make you smile and brighten your day 💖💖💖

Iz**ch*ka is a little difficult, because they certainly are cute, separately and together. I thought they were cutest before Ura was told about her potential crush on Mido, when she was simply a source of bubbly energy and positivity that helped Mido open up and feel comfortable around other people. I feel though that, romantically, it's extraordinarily one-sided, and at this point, i have to wonder if they really are "end goal." End goal for shounen, of course, is hardly ever explicit ahzovndlfjsoxo but i feel like a better storyline for Horikoshi to take would be for Ura to realize that she's been confused, and these feelings haven't really been a positive experience for her. I've definitely gone through things like that as a teenager. Now, the ship can be very cute! They're basically the same person, and they're cute and bubbly! But again, it simply isn't for me.

I think Momjirou is very cute!! Of course, as a lesbian, i sense strong lesbian vibes from Momo, and strong bi vibes from Jirou, and I also saw the ship potential ever since the USJ attack - which i think, so did everyone else ahaovndofjsojfsk they're best friends without a doubt, though i have to say, i really like Kamijirou. She just makes him so soft, and he's so in awe of her, and she thinks he's so funny, I love how supportive he is of her, especially since she can be really insecure 🥺🥺🥺

I also think Ura and Tsu are very cute but another easy ship, and i kind of really like Ochamina 🥺 they're both pink and space themed, they're bubbly and energetic and kick ass, and i think they'd be super cute...

I saved todobaku for last, because, you know what they say, best for last! 😇😇😇

I've said it before, but if there was no Mido (impossible obviously, and i would never want that) then todobaku is where my heart would lie. Baku has never really been shown chasing after anyone except for Mido...and Todo, which really gets at my heart. There's a grudging respect there - very, very grudging ahakckdkfjskdk which i find very appealing! Todo is very important to Baku and he has also been able to show Baku some things about himself that he needed to question and reevaluate. Meanwhile, Todo puts up with exactly 0% of Baku's shit, which i find absolutely hilarious. It's funny to me how Baku wishes to intimidate Todo as he does everyone else, and Todo simply does not care. And Baku wants to be mad, and ends up mad that he can't be mad since Todo is a strong and worthy opponent. They just have such an interesting chemistry, there's so much friction, so much tension, and I enjoy it, particularly since they clearly should be friends, would be great friends, want to be friends, but Baku simply won't get over it 😂😂 I do prefer them as friends, but friends that are incredibly close, two people that understand each other on almost a telepathic level, two people that give each other shit while also refusing to take the other's shit.

I do agree that many people in this fandom seem to think their ship stands on some moral high ground? It could be a disconnect from the previous generations of fandom, or it could also be the growing mentality on this site that everything needs to be a battle of moral superiority, and also that what you like is part of your personality, and if someone doesn't like what you like, then they don't like you or that they think you're factually incorrect. I personally have stopped going into the bn/ha tag simply because I don't enjoy, well, many things i find there, and I'm happy with those that i follow. I've definitely seen hatred and invalidation for both LGBT ships and m|w ships, neither of which I'm comfortable with. I definitely don't go off tumblr for fandom stuff because there's practically no acceptance for any same gender ships, or any queer headcanoning, which, I'll be honest, makes me scared, as i am a very anxious person avdkvndkfje i do think it should be noted that we should be as accepting of cishet ships as we are of queer ships - no debate on this one - but again, you are right when you say that many cishet headcanons have been used to invalidate LGBT voices, and any and all allies must always be aware of this! It is much more often that queer voices are silenced, that queer ships are ridiculed, that queer shippers aren't allowed to enjoy or see themselves. And to anybody that doesn't want to be an ally... Whelp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what are you doing here ajxkvmdogjdicjsicjsodj I'm gay

I haven't really read much of anything recently, let alone other ships, platonic or otherwise, because energy has been low for me for a long time. I wish i could participate more and support all my friends and other fans, but it's been a bit of a struggle 😣😣😣 I'm so sorry! Something that I can do is make posts and analyses and metas, as those are quick and make me excited, so I'm always happy to respond to asks like these! (I say as i take two hours to write this response...)

I hope people have been taking care of themselves and remember that tumblr is really good at letting you cater to your own interests! I hope if you've made it to the end of this response that you enjoyed it, and you're not mad at me ahsovjekgjsocjwodkso if you are, that's fine, I'm sorry, I probably am really bad at social/internet etiquette and such that help you filter 😣😣

To any who are curious, you cannot change my mind ahdogmdocjdidk thank you to whoever sent this ask!!! A lot of this is a bunch of rambling I've always wanted to talk about but was frankly too scared to post! I hope I made sense and answered everything you were asking!! Please have a good day/night/life!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

#bnha #bkdk #tdbk #also no i dont have a twitter ans i dont want to get one absocndofjwodjaozjsldjai #sorry i just #i can barely keep up with surviving ajsnvondofjskxnsodjsodks #anyways i really really need to go to bed #i should have 2 hours ago....#but you know #this ask got me so intrigued #im serious when i say i like thinking about and writing these things!!!#again thank you so much for asking and im sorry if you didnt get what you were looking for 😔😔😔#asks #long post

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abysskeeper · 4 years

Note

otpop tavon flirting with her in disguise

@trafuris

This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and not much else ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And now it’s getting posted, lest I somehow make it longer still.

---

The night was already way too long, and it had only been an hour.

When Trick initially agreed to go to Alderaan regarding the report three Organa children might be Force sensitive, she expected a quick and easy trip. At most she would spend a night reconnecting with some old ties and checking in with some old friends, and the following morning evaluate and potentially escort the kids to Tython. Technically, technically she supposed she was still on that timetable, but suddenly she found herself with a much busier schedule. When she let Fasha know she would be returning to the planet for a brief visit and she wanted to say hello to House Teral, Fasha and Lew all but insisted she attend whatever ball it was House Organa was throwing that evening. Both houses would be there, so it would be a great opportunity to reconnect with everyone in one fell swoop!

She hadn’t exactly been in a position to reject, considering she was technically still a representative for House Teral. And she did want to reinforce her diplomatic relations, she was just hoping to do it in a…quieter fashion.

She agreed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which was surprisingly more than she was expecting out of herself, and spent the rest of the day trying to convince herself it could be fun. It had been a while since she had been to any type of party like it, the last one probably being the celebration of Fasha and Lew’s wedding…also on Alderaan. She pointedly made the time to attend that one though, and it surprisingly wasn’t quite as grand. Not to mention she at least knew the bride, groom, and several of the guests. She could continue talks of diplomacy and contracts between House Organa and House Teral, as well as the Republic, to help each of them out and raise her own status in the eyes of Alderaanian nobility. She had a purpose then, which kept her distracted from the usual pomp and circumstance she often found to be an annoyance. And…well…a wedding was a good reason to host those kinds of things.

Now though, well, she liked the lords and ladies and representatives of the houses, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about the gossip of the nobles on the planet or the minor squabbles between houses. It was good they were talking about that rather than the finer points of civil war, it meant their tentative peace agreement at the conclusion of said war and neutrality in the galaxy were holding up, but she couldn’t understand a majority of the conversations, and quite frankly it all paled in comparison to the actual, ongoing war that continued off planet. She had still yet to discern why this party was even being held in the first place.

The only fun she’d experienced happened before she even entered the Organa estate. She did enjoy dressing up and being expected to play the role of esteemed guest from time to time. And she looked great if she did say so herself. But much beyond that, the night was a rather irritating necessity, and after an hour she already wished she were curled up on Rishi or Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant. Better company and far less noise. It had been a while since she had time to simply be with friends, and it felt like longer still with…a certain other individual.

Stars, the night would be manageable if he was here.

In the midst of imagining four other things she would prefer to be doing right then, Trick was only half-listening to the small group of women she was sitting with at one of the tables, nodding and humming in agreement when appropriate to do her best to feign interest in the topic. She was pretty sure they were currently discussing the love affair between a young Alde woman and her servant, something she gathered was untraditional but not disallowed because the noble wasn’t set to assume any sort of leadership. Still, the affair was gathering its fair share of judgment, if not outright disapproval, based on what she was hearing. She couldn’t figure out why, considering everything pointed to such a relationship being ultimately harmless and innocent enough, but then she had always found it weird how readily nobles bothered themselves with another’s business and where they most certainly did not belong.

Not that she would ever voice that, of course.

Her attention only returned to the table in full when the conversation slowed to a halt and the silence registered in her mind. The other women, two married nobles, another diplomat, and a general for House Alde were all looking at her, a range of sympathy to mild amusement on their faces. Trick couldn’t figure out why, she hadn’t said anything out of place or preposterous surrounding the gossip they were discussing…and she knew that because she hadn’t said anything at all. And none of it pertained to her or the Order, if it had strayed into that territory she definitely would’ve started paying attention sooner. There was no reason for them to be looking at her expectantly, awaiting a response, or as if she had just made some faux pas. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but as she went to speak, another voice cut in.

“I never knew black could be a Jedi’s color. They should consider it more often—”

Ah yes, of course.

“—You look better than any Sith ever could.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath through her nose. When she opened them again, the rest of the women at her table were now all looking at her with sympathy. Fasha had warned her when she agreed to come that Alderaan’s …younger bachelors had little…tact in how they approached women. It was an appreciated warning, though unnecessary because she already knew. Any time she was planetside on Alderaan for longer than a day there was at least one unwarranted attempt at—seduction? Wooing?—flirtation from the up and coming generation. It was a mild frustration at its best and an outright nuisance at its worst. She was commonly seen as an opportunity because she was their age and she was beautiful and she was a Jedi. In their confusion, they all thought she was an honorable conquest instead of understanding the dishonor that would come with bedding and “sullying” a Jedi.

They never stood a chance, though not necessarily for the reasons they would think. Granted she wouldn’t inform them of that, it would be impolite, but she wouldn’t deny there were times she wished she could tell them she was happily involved.

Not that she could say that, either.

Trick turned in her chair and rested an arm over the back, locking eyes with none other than Raldir Organa, one of the nephews of the current Lord and a regular offender. At least half of those unwarranted flirtations came from him alone. She wasn’t his only target, basically any woman who walked, talked, and breathed would encounter Ral (as he insisted they all call him) at one point or another, but she had somehow become his main target whenever she had to be on Alderaan. It was a shame really, the man had his moments of intelligence and leadership, something that would only refine in the years to come, and he wasn’t that bad on the eyes either. He would have had several shots by now if only he learned how to speak with his mind and not the alcohol. The years had yet to refine that vice out of him, and with each encounter she had with him she doubted more and more they ever would.

Liquor was usually what carried him to her anyways, but as she sized him up in the split second between turning to him and speaking, she noted those brown eyes of his were sharper than they usually were. A rare surprise, but not necessarily unwelcomed.

“Raldir Organa,” Trick greeted, a small smile slipping onto her face, a tad teasing and a tad kind. One she was all too used to wearing in these situations. One that gave whatever potential suitor she was facing just enough hope to continue and gave her just enough deniability later when she vehemently refused them. She’d mastered this game ages ago, for things far crueler than the Alderaan court. “Are you trying to imply I could so easily fall to the Dark Side?” she asked and raised a brow, “Or simply suggesting I am tempting enough to lure others?” She never went easy on the guy.

His smile widened, which was in stark contrast to his usual, fumbling nature after something he said went wrong, and inclined his head, “You shine too beautifully for the former, so I suppose it must be the latter. Though honestly, I simply meant to say you looking stunning tonight.”

Both of her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she glanced back at her table to find her surprise reflected in the women she sat with. Raldir had plenty of reputations, but being smooth with his words towards women was not amongst them. “Thank you,” she said and turned back to him, eyes narrowed slightly. He looked pleased he had managed to land something, almost smug. Perhaps there was still hope for him, when he hadn’t submerged his brain in liquor anyways. “You’ve got a clever tongue tonight, I see,” she commented, “What can I do for you, Ral?”

“A dance, if you would be so kind,” he answered and held out his hand for her.

And there it was, the first request she had been preparing for since her invite. Social obligation demanded she say yes to him—and several others—tonight, but she could admit she was less than enthused with the prospect. With any of the prospects. It wasn’t like she didn’t like dancing, a week ago she was prancing about the apartment on Rishi but…but if they were anywhere else, it would be better. If this were anything other than a societal mess of obligation and show, it would be better. If he was a different man…a better man…this would be better.

She knew she had no right to say no, she knew that when she agreed to come, but she could lament, just a little, about how much she didn’t want to do this. Because it could’ve been better.

Still, Trick looked over the young man standing in front of her and acknowledged this was probably the best possible situation she could’ve hoped for. Societal obligation meant she had to say yes to him at some point, so it was better to get it done and out of the way with Ral now, when he wasn’t drunk off his ass and a lot more difficult to handle, and then go about her night. The opportunity to essentially dodge him at his worst rarely arose, it’d be foolish not to seize it. “Sure,” she agreed and got up, taking his offered hand with another smile, “Since you asked so kindly, anyways.”

He only returned her smile and entwined their fingers, gently tugging her towards the other couples finishing their dance to the end of the current song. His silence was unexpected, Ral usually rambled needlessly about himself and whatever event was at hand, and yet that wasn’t the most surprising thought to cross her mind. The way he held her hand was…familiar. Not in the way he usually did when she granted him the chance, a tad too strong and just a little too forceful, but it was…a comfort. Firm, but loose enough and warm.

Before she even got the chance to ask about it, or to mention that it was a nice surprise how he approached her, or any number of things currently on her mind, she came to a halt in front of him in front of him and just before his arm slid around her waist, she felt a distinct double tap on her right hip.

Ah, of course.

That explained it all. Trick closed her eyes and blew out a breath, something mixed between relief, amusement, and teasing annoyance. When she looked up at him again, he was looking back at her with an easy smile and clearly way too pleased with himself. She had to fight a smile of her own and instead forced her spine to straighten and her arms to stiffen. Not a lot, but just enough to show some slight discomfort. Because with the speed of that tap, it became much less about hiding her mild disgust and discomfort towards the man everyone saw, and much more about hiding her total comfort with the man underneath.

After a moment, she grabbed his arm and tugged him to the right, angling both of them so his back was towards the tables of guests and she was hidden behind him. He raised a brow in question and she gave a slight shrug in response, “There’s a joke around here that the gossips of Alderaan are better at reading lips than Imperial agents. You were the one who told me that, Ral.”

His smile didn’t falter, “Naturally. Do you intend for our conversation to be rather salacious, Trick?”

She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead rolling her eyes and glancing behind her at the band. She was going to wait for the music to start again before saying anything, salacious or otherwise. This wasn’t going to be a conversation for prying eyes and ears. When the music did start up, a lilting, light-hearted melody, she let them get a few steps in before confronting him. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to give me a reputation,” Trick remarked casually and bit back a smirk, “This is the third time this week.”

“I don’t think I understand what you are implying,” Tavon responded, and he would’ve sounded sincere if it weren’t for the playful spark bleeding through into his disguise’s eyes, “Coincidences are bound to happen in our line of work.”

She laughed softly, quiet enough to hide under the gradually swelling music, but her amusement was evident, “You are rarely a man of coincidence, love.”

“Perhaps,” he inclined his head in agreement, “But in this case, I cannot take credit. This has been in the works for months.” He looked her over with a speculative eye, “You, however, were conspicuously absent from the expected guest list.” She understood his underlying question…but was a little surprised by it. It was unusual for her presence to catch him off guard, rarer still for him to admit it.

She hummed in agreement, letting the silence sit between them for a few moments in favor of the music and the gentle rhythm they had fallen into. Another couple had wandered a little too close for her to be comfortable in responding. And besides, there was nothing wrong with making him sweat a little, she almost never got the chance. She was admittedly a little distracted as well, caught off guard at how easy she was finding it to fall in step with him. Not for her sake, a former life had taught her enough about dancing etiquette that she could fake it for diplomatic intentions until she was good enough, and by now she had utilized it enough to simply be good enough.

His skill was the surprise.

He was no expert, but then, neither was she. And as they swung easily to the music around their little part of the dance floor, navigating around the other couples nearby and each other, she decided he was far better than she initially would’ve expected. It wasn’t until she twirled away from him and then secured herself back into his arms, smiling a little too wide for the person she was supposed to be dancing with, that she internally cursed herself and forced herself to curb her enthusiasm. Damn, it was going to be a little harder than she anticipated to fake that.

“For once, it is nothing so difficult,” Trick finally answered after they moved a little further away from the other couples. “Three children associated with House Organa are potentially Force sensitive; I’m evaluating them in the morning. So unless that is your business, which I highly doubt, I won’t be any trouble.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips, “That is, unless you want me to be trouble.”

“As fun as that sounds, it is a relief to know that isn’t your reason for being on the planet,” Tav said with a roll of his eyes. It was easier to see in his disguise, the brown irises tracking with the movement. She honestly preferred the subtlety of his natural red eyes, perhaps because she was confident she was one of only a few who could tell when he did it at all. “But that doesn’t explain why you are here.”

“At this ball, you mean,” she said. His confusion made sense, her displeasure for events like this was known. She never exactly complained when she had to go to government events for the Order or the Republic, but he always noticed her subtle irritation. He was a little too perceptive of her, but it had become a comfort.

She shrugged weakly, “When I mentioned to one of my contacts I was visiting the planet, she asked me to come. Being a representative of House Teral, I couldn’t exactly decline.”

He nodded in mock understanding. “Naturally, you cannot simply say no in a situation like that,” he teased.

“Exactly. I can’t,” she agreed, resisting the urge to smack him for his teasing. She waited for the music to swell back to a louder volume before continuing, “Look, I don’t really like these things, but I use the title so rarely I forget I even still have it except for when I’m on Alderaan. It’s good for them to have a Jedi amongst their ranks, even on paper, and it’s good for me to have a connection to Teral and Organa. It’s something I want to maintain, so I wasn’t going to say no.” She paused and looked over him in question, “It’s starting to sound like you don’t want me here, though.”

He quickly shook his head, “Quite the opposite, unfortunately.”

There was a pregnant pause as he took his time looking over her. She felt herself grow a little warm under his gaze, she knew that look. She’d suffered that look from hundreds of men before, had suffered it from Ral countless times…but Tav’s was different. Even when he was wearing the face of another man, his gaze somehow still managed to have the warmth…the tenderness…the intimacy of knowing her. She was attractive, yes, but she was so much more to him and it showed. That was the difference, what made her feel like floating instead of her usual, mild disgust.

He locked eyes with hers again and smiled, “You are quite the tempting distraction for tonight.”

Trick smirked, pleased. She had gone all out for the fun of it, every so often she enjoyed having a reason to dress to the nines even if the ensuing evening would be dull at best, but she wouldn’t deny it was nice to be noticed by him specifically. It was an unusual opportunity for him to ever see her like this. “Is that so?” she asked.

He chuckled and nodded, “It is. I meant what I said earlier,” he said, his tone softer…fonder, “You are stunning, Trick.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide and broke their gaze to glance at their feet, watching them move in sync as she felt her face flush a little too much. By all accounts, she was still dancing with Ral, and she was hardly ever impressed with the man. Which made it all the more difficult that she was too easily impressed by the man she was actually with. After a moment to gather herself, she cleared her throat and looked back up at him, “Well…thank you…again. I wish I could say the same, but…” she trailed off and nodded vaguely at him, “…I haven’t fully confirmed you fill out Alderaanian suits better than any nobleman here.”

Tavon snorted, “I could probably take one tonight if that is what you truly desire.”

She giggled at the thought. It was both amusing and rather sweet that he would even offer smuggling a suit out of here because she thought he might look good in it, despite whatever else it was he had to do. Her smile faltered at the realization she didn’t know what exactly constituted ‘whatever else he had to do’. “’Truly desire’ is a little too strong,” Trick answered, “Do what you will. Surprise me. I don’t want my silly whims getting in the way of your work,” she joked and gave him a speculative eye similar to the one he gave her earlier, “What are you doing here, anyways?”

That probably should’ve been the first question she asked upon him letting her in on the secret, but the relief she felt in Tav being there trumped all other thought almost immediately.

“Your whims are my command,” he said, and she wavered between rolling her eyes and blushing, “They would be better than the pointless gathering for trivial matters I am currently pursuing.” Annoyance dripped off every word he said, and she found herself both sympathetic and curious about whatever it was that brought him here. She already had a guess.

His eyes remained ahead of him as he pulled her a little closer and moved a few steps back. “I am gathering information on the Organa family. Weapons, military numbers, current positions and schedules for leaders…you understand where I am going with this, I presume,” Tav explained finally, his voice low.

She stared at him. “I understand…but is the Empire not aware that the Civil War is over?” she asked. They had put in so much work to end Alderaan’s war in the first place, and then even more to ensure the war’s end created planet neutrality between the Republic and Empire. She had thought both sides decided the effort wasn’t worth it at the current juncture and agreed. So…why now go back to it?

“The Empire is aware. Certain individuals—” His distaste was palpable. “—are not.”

Oh. “An upstart?” she guessed. That was the best explanation for something like this, and why Tav’s entire countenance shifted at the mere thought of it.

He nodded, “A Thul representative approached a young Sith with an idea to reclaim Alderaan in the name of House Thul, and thus, the Empire. She thinks she’ll succeed.”

That explained most of it. Even still, there was one thing left unclear. “There has to be more machinations to it than that if you’re here,” Trick pointed out. It wasn’t that he didn’t do work as the Commander of Intelligence, he did a great deal, she knew that…but he didn’t do things he didn’t agree with or otherwise saw as a waste of time. This was obviously both.

“Typical Sith politics and running her mouth,” he answered and she could see a hint of a sneer starting to form on his face. He paused to contain himself before continuing, “She is persistent, if nothing else, and enlisted the help of Imperial Intelligence to acquire the information she needs. Certain information she is requesting we don’t readily have on hand, so I agreed to come myself instead of pulling anyone from actual, important duties.”

“How noble,” she chuckled. In the back of her mind, she noted the end of the song they were dancing to was fast approaching, and she wouldn’t have much time to ask any other questions. Or remain in his presence, which should have been more of a secondary concern than it was. “By the way you’re treating this, this doesn’t sound like a serious threat.”

“It’s not. No one of any importance is taking this seriously,” he informed, “She’ll likely be dead within two weeks of starting her ill-fated campaign.”

“From her own ambitions or…someone else?” she asked.

He paused, considering. “Perhaps a little of both,” he smirked, “Though she hardly needs my assistance in bringing her fate about.”

“Then I suppose I have no need to interfere,” she nodded. If this wasn’t a major threat that would usher in another civil war, then she had no intention of getting involved. Not only would that be suspicious, she simply didn’t have the time. “I apologize for your…nuisance…though,” she added as the song came to its closing notes, “And for your wasted evening.”

“I would hardly consider all of it a waste anymore,” he said and gave her a pointed look.

She gave a small smile and inclined her head in agreement. As the song finished, she let go of his shoulders and took a small step back. She attempted to get further, but Tav didn’t let go of her, and instead squeezed her hand. “I know it is not necessarily apropos,” he said in response to her look of confusion, “But would you mind honoring me with just one more?”

“Is there more to discuss?”

“Not particularly,” he shook his head, “I had no intention of broaching the subject at all if you didn’t ask. Would you be surprised to learn I enjoy your company?”

“I should hope you do,” she retorted. She frowned at the request though, it didn’t come as a surprise at all…but— “We…really shouldn’t,” she trailed off.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, she would stay by him all night if she were allowed what she wanted, but she knew the optics of it and that behavior would be totally inappropriate for both her reputation and the reputation he was trying to portray. Granted…not that dancing twice with the same partner was unheard of…especially from Ral. She glanced back at her table with a sense of apprehension, the women still watching the two of them with unabated interest. She was already going to have a load of questions to answer and…oh, kriff it. What were a few more? Especially when this was going to be the most fun she had for the rest of her time here.

She moved her hand back to his shoulder and gripped just slightly tighter as she felt him starting to let go of her. “One more only,” she agreed, stressing the fact they couldn’t do this a third time. That was unheard of for anyone not…otherwise involved. Which they most certainly were not in the eyes of everyone there. “And if it’s a slow dance, I have to leave,” she added. As much as the thought called to her, she absolutely could not do that under these conditions.

“Quite the stipulations,” he mused with a chuckle. His hands slid back around her with a familiar comfort though, and she sighed with the effort of once again not just melting into him.

“I have an image to keep, and it certainly does not involve cozying up to Raldir Organa,” she retorted, as much a reminder for herself as it was for him, “At least one of us can’t do as they please tonight.”

He smirked as the second song started, “And yet, here you are.”

She muttered a couple unkind words under her breath and looked away. And yet here she was. Because she couldn’t say no, because she didn’t want to say no. She was far too grateful their next song was another lilting, upbeat one, because it meant she could stay with him for an extra couple of minutes. If she had thought quicker upon realizing he was here, she could have at least played it off as digging for additional information. And she was interested in getting more information, but as it was he knew her real intentions, they were way too obvious.

Not that that was a bad thing, per se.

“So, you’ve explained the why, but I do have one other question. Where is Raldir? The real one?” She asked. She had let them get through the introduction of the second song and allowed the music to reach a louder volume before restarting their prior conversation. “Dead?” she added, a little wary. That would cause…problems, to put it mildly. But that was usually the case upon him assuming identities.

“Let’s just say he partook in his proclivities a little earlier than usual tonight,” he answered, “He’s sleeping it off.”

She snorted, but felt a wave of relief at the answer. “So, not dead then. I can’t say it’s not good to hear, but it would’ve saved a lot of women the trouble the next time he comes around,” Trick joked.

His eyes narrowed, a mixture of distaste and thought crossing them, “That can still be arranged…”

“Don’t,” she cut him off quickly, “I was kidding. Quite frankly, it’s a worse punishment for him to be successful tonight with the women he attempts to court and not remember it by morning.”

“Is that so?” he asked, and that playful spark returned to his eyes. His hand slipped a little lower, settling into the small of her back; he was teetering on the border of obviously familiar and brazenly stupid. Her eyes narrowed, shooting him a warning glance even as she had to bite the inside of her lip. He looked back, pleased, almost challenging her to say something…because she couldn’t. If nothing else, Tav studied his roles well. And if nothing else…Raldir Organa was brazenly stupid when it came to women. Only one of them couldn’t do as they pleased tonight, and it seemed he would take full advantage of that. “And what if I chose to remain by your side tonight instead?”

She wouldn’t deny the thought was tempting, she couldn’t deny it given how much effort it was taking to not simply settle into his arms. “As much of a punishment that would also be, you won’t,” Trick stated, already knowing it to be fact. It was a wonderful thought, but as much as she wanted it, they couldn’t. Even he couldn’t afford that. “You have a cover to keep and we both have other matters to attend.”

“That…is true,” he sighed in agreement, a hint of a resigned smile settling onto his lips, “Perhaps I should not have approached the very best first, then.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed with a small smirk, “Always save the best for last. But at least you can acknowledge your mistakes.” Before she continued, her attention was drawn to their feet as she felt them begin a relatively complicated series of steps, and she looked back to him in surprise when they completed it with little issue. “Admittedly, I’m surprised you approached at all,” she commented and bit her lip in thought, “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I’ve learned a number of necessary skills over the years,” he said. Naturally…diplomacy and espionage were similar in that regard. He watched her for a moment before adding, “You seem disappointed with that knowledge.”

“Quite the opposite, honestly,” she admitted. She glanced down at their feet again and then smiled, “Had I known…well…this was not how I imagined our first dance would go.”

“Oh?” he asked, both amused and curious, “And how did you imagine it?”

“Under the stars on a beach on Rishi,” Trick answered. She was perhaps a little too quick with her response, but she had thought about it more than she cared to admit. Maybe it was a little cliché, but the thought was nice: just the two of them under the moon and stars, the sound of waves next to them…it didn’t have to be a perfect dance, honestly all she wanted was a slow dance…even just a slow rock…in his arms. “Just the two of us. You as you and me not in heels that could kill a man,” she added.

Tavon went quiet, considering the situation she had just set up for him. “Well, that is certainly a possibility,” he said finally.

She was just as quiet as she watched him, his thoughtful expression and smile. After he responded, she could only chuckle and shake her head. She knew that ‘possibility’ was now almost assured. “A probability now, I imagine.”

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, amused.

She regarded him again and her smile softened, turning a bit coy, “Because you’re inherently awful at denying me.”

He laughed harder than he intended. “And why would I want to be good at that when your requests are so simple?” he asked. The tender look he gave her nearly melted her heart, “Not much brings me more joy than ensuring your happiness.”

Trick huffed and looked away again, feeling the blush crawling over her cheeks and a smile forcing its way onto her face. One that was far too fond to be giving to Ral. “Y-you’re making it awfully difficult to be uncomfortable around you,” she muttered as her only response.

“I could play my role a little better, I suppose,” Tavon agreed. An over-exaggerated sense of smugness came over him as he added, “But this is much more enjoyable.”

She huffed again in faux exasperation and rolled her eyes. “Nerfherder,” she muttered under her breath. It took her a moment to realize what he had just done, somehow managing to tease her and give her the out she was looking for in the same breath. Well, she had never said he wasn’t good at his job. She glanced back up at him and resisted the urge to smile again, “Thanks.”

He chuckled again and nodded, “If you would truly like to show your appreciation, you could endure a request of my own now."

“Oh?” she asked and raised a brow, “And what would that entail?”

“An answer,” he said. Before she could respond, he swung them around to the beat of the music, so his back was to the crowd again, and twirled her under his arm once. When they returned to their first position, he pointedly looked her up and down again, and when he met her eyes again, there was something rather impish in his gaze. “A simple one, at that. You are staying here for the night, correct?”

“I am,” Trick agreed and exhaled, breathless and caught off guard…not entirely because of the sudden display in dancing either. “Why?”

“As I mentioned, my reasons for being here are simple. This should hardly take all night,” he answered casually, “And Alderaan would be much more bearable for both of us, I believe, if we were not alone.”

That only confirmed her suspicions towards the question, and she failed to fight off another grin. Suddenly, the end of her night was looking a lot more interesting than she had initially anticipated. “Well, I am in the eastern wing of the Organa estate if you so happen to need to…’gather intelligence’ there. Last door of the hallway,” she informed him.

“Noted,” he said and matched her coy grin with one of his own, “I believe there is some important information there I will have to look into.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “If you happen to need to ‘gather intelligence’ in my room specifically, try not to be conspicuous. I have no need for a planetary scandal, let alone a galactic one.”

“You know that will not be an issue.”

It never was.

They danced to the rest of the song in silence, him practically basking in the opportunity and her desperately trying not to stare too long into his eyes…or move too close to him…or settle too easily into the natural rhythm and comfort she always found when she was with him, no matter what, where, or when. She was grateful for it though, because it meant he didn’t say anything else to throw her off kilter and gave her a chance to gather herself once again before heading back to the onslaught of questions awaiting at her table. She was already trying to calculate her response for why she stayed with Ral for two songs and taking her best guess at what else they may ask she was going to need a quick answer to.

As the ending notes of the song came, she snapped herself out of it long enough to sway with him to the final notes before they finally came to a halt. She gently slid herself out of his grip and looked at him, half expecting him to disobey her prior stipulations and ask for yet another dance. She wanted to…but she had to say no, she had to. When all he did was smile at her instead, and gave her hand another small squeeze, she sighed a breath of relief. Truth be told, even if she had to, she wasn’t sure she could say no to him.

“Well, I appreciate the time, Ral, but surely you should grace others besides myself with your presence this evening,” she said, repeating a common refusal she gave to the real Ral all the time. It was nice to be able to use here, in case anyone overheard them now and was wondering about the oddity. It gave off just enough of a hint of passive aggressive annoyance that she could use to her advantage, if it was necessary.

“Of course,” he agreed as she turned away, “The pleasure was mine, Jedi.”

Trick jumped to stop and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking when, instead of letting go, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She looked back in blatant shock at how outwardly audacious he was and was met with him half bowed against her hand, eyes looking up at her and absolutely glittering with amusement. “I’ll see you later tonight, darling,” he whispered against the back of her hand, nearly imperceptible to her, let alone anyone else.

Without missing a beat, Tav straightened up and turned around, walking off to wherever he decided to go next. She watched after him, jaw clenched in a losing battle against the blush crawling across her cheeks and up towards her ears. For a few seconds, all she could do was try to prevent her own racing heart from crashing out of her chest. In the back of her mind, she could feel several pairs of eyes on her…practically hear the whispers now flying about surrounding what would probably come the talked about event of the night.

Great. How troublesome she’d have to answer for that as well as everything else about the past ten minutes or so.

She finally removed her hand from her mouth, blowing out a breath as she did so. Feeling like her legs wouldn’t immediately give out if she moved, she turned and made her way off the main area of the dance floor. She could still feel the whispers about her surrounding her in a bunch of hushed voices, but above all else, she could feel a certain set of eyes still watching her. A gaze she had grown very keen on knowing. And as she smoothed down the skirt of her dress, she smirked as an idea came to her.

Fine. Two could play at this game.

Trick straightened herself out and turned on her heel, making her way back to her table. And if she just so happened to stand a little straighter, and there just so happened to be an extra swing in her hips with each step she took…well…she glanced over her shoulder only to meet his gaze from halfway across the room. Her smirk grew.

Well, the only one who would really notice was the only one it was for anyways.

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scintillating-galaxias · 4 years

Text

i’ll be the wind beneath your wings (ch. 4)

and here is chapter four of my swap gift for @peppervl! the fifth and final chapter will be posted tomorrow :D i was thinking of going back and adding links to navigate chapters easier, but i know that screws up tags,, oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy!

(read it on ao3!)

London, 1860

The next time Aziraphale was permitted to touch Crowley’s wings was after several hours of easy drinking and chatting. Bottles crowded their feet and the legs of the coffee table. More surrounded Aziraphale’s armchair in a sloppy semicircle. They’d given up on drinking from their glasses long ago and were now taking swigs straight from the bottle. Aziraphale had his cradled to his chest; Crowley was using his to gesticulate heatedly about Hamlet.

Everything felt a good deal more complicated now—more complicated to articulate, more complicated to think, more complicated to—to—yes. But it was an equally good deal easier to simply forgo thinking altogether and focus on Crowley. He was nice to concentrate on in a purely aesthetic sense, with all of his sharp angles smoothed out by his slouch, and his drawling voice going on and on about Shakespeare’s most recent sensation, and the way he used his hands to talk as though he were conducting the world's most chaotic orchestra, and how graceful he was as leaned forward to snatch a new bottle of wine off of the table—

Aziraphale blinked. Something was off. As Crowley settled back into the couch, he refused to move his right shoulder from its stiff posture even as he struggled to open the bottle. It remained stubbornly stuck to his side as he brought it to his stained mouth.

The question slipped right through Aziraphale’s wine-soaked lips. “Are you feeling alright?”

“‘S stupid, could’a just talked to her an’—No!” Crowley exclaimed. Aziraphale closed his eyes against the volume. “No, of course not, Hamlet’s a bloody—bleeding dumb”—Crowley flailed his arm in a nonsensical gesture, though the wine in the bottle obediently stayed put—“idiot! Should’a just talked!”

Aziraphale nodded and hummed, though he didn’t know what Hamlet’s communication issues had to do with Crowley’s arm. It must be something if he was so passionate about it. He should be a good friend and at least sit supportively next to him in these trying times. Crowley did not pause in his rant as he scooted a few inches over to make room.

“But Horatio—brave boy,” Aziraphale said somberly after he took another sip of wine, “he was all he had. Or so he believed. Would’ve ruined the story, I say. At least he wanted to help.”

Crowley weakly slapped his palm against the couch arm. “‘Cos Hamlet’s a self-destructive little—wha’s the word? Prick. ” He smacked his mouth distastefully. “What’d you say?”

“I said, Horatio—”

“Nnno no, no, before, before.”

Aziraphale stared into the rippling depths of the wine. It was a pretty jewel color in the lamplight, all purple and red and purple-red. “I’m not sure,” he eventually said. “Asked if you were alright.”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

In all of his infinite wisdom, Aziraphale poked Crowley’s arm. He blankly stared at Aziraphale’s finger.

“This doesn’t hurt?”

“No? Why would—why would you poke it if it hurt?”

“I’m not sure,” he said again. He put his hand in his lap. “You were holding it funny.”

Crowley blinked a couple of times. “It’s my back,” he said carefully. He shifted over some so that their legs no longer touched. “Must’ve tweaked it.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. He wanted to say something. Something about how he’s sworn he’s seen this exact motion—the bizarrely applied posture, the walk, a wince of pain when he forgot and he reached with the wrong arm, but all of those memories were playing through a foggy window. Movements smeared together, details blurred, colors faded in and out of vividity.

He took too long to answer. Crowley was working to sit up, a sign that Aziraphale knew meant he would sobering up, and sobering up meant he would be leaving soon.

“Is that so,” he said.

“Yeah. Been like that for a while.” Crowley made a face. “What time is it?”

Aziraphale asked, “How long?”

“How long what?”

“Your back. How long has it been hurting?”

Crowley looked distinctly uncomfortable as he blandly said, “I dunno.”

Usually, Aziraphale would stop here. He wasn’t the prying type, or at least not the maliciously prying type. Crowley had made every clear sign short of telling Aziraphale to stuff it that he didn’t want to talk about it. But Aziraphale wanted to talk about it, so his drunken mind decided that was enough reason to say, “Oh, don’t lie to me.”

Crowley scowled. “‘S not that big a deal, I dunno why you’re so pressed about it.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“ So pressed. You’re on my back about it. Up my arse.”

Aziraphale blinked. “But you’ve been in pain.”

“I’ve been worse.” Crowley drummed his fingers on the cushions. The very same cushions of the very same sofa Crowley had slept on when he came to Aziraphale, seeking refuge. A memory of Crowley sitting and rubbing his wing with his bandaged hand pushed through the fog.

Aziraphale attempted to straighten indignantly, but it was more of an aggressive sway. “Is it—is your wings? Are they bothering you?”

Crowley, finally caught out, slumped back into the sofa. “Ugh, dammit, angel. Fine. Yes. They have been since they had their way with me. Happy?” he said dryly.

“Not really.” Aziraphale leaned towards him. “You’ve been in pain. How could I be happy about that?”

Crowley shrugged one shoulder. “I’m gonna sober up.”

He shut his eyes tightly and exhaled slowly. Aziraphale watched as around half of the bottles littered at their feet began to refill. He decided to follow suit, wincing as the alcoholic fog was whisked from his mind, and every thought hidden beneath returned with sharp clarity. A snap, and any wine that had managed to spill onto his lovely rug untangled itself from the fibers and zipped droplet by droplet into the mouths of the appropriate bottles.

Aziraphale said softly, “I don’t mind helping you, you know.”

Crowley turned, and suddenly, Aziraphale was back again beneath yellow searchlights, piercing through even the darkest patch of brine. Two breaths went in and out. In, and out.

“No?”

With that single, wary word, a familiar ache flooded Aziraphale’s body. At once, he recognized it as the very same one from all those years ago, and his voice nearly caught as he said, “Not at all.”

You’re my friend; of course I wouldn’t mind.

A series of unidentifiable emotions flickered across Crowley’s face. Then, a shimmery veil of reality lifted, and two great wings were presented to Aziraphale.

“It’s along here,” Crowley said, reaching back and running his hand along the top of his right wing. It seemed Aziraphale was correct; he was sure this was the same wing Crowley had had issues with but left before Aziraphale could do anything about it. “It’s—It never healed right. It hurts all the time, but I can’t—” Crowley closed his mouth with a snap of his teeth. “Can’t reach it anymore,” he muttered, ducking his head.

“You poor thing,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley curled in on himself even more and looked to be regretting coming here at all. Aziraphale bit his lip. “I had something similar happen once,” he began earnestly. “I earned a rather nasty break after a spar with Gabriel. It was an accident, of course,” he amended when Crowley jolted. “He apologized and everything.”

Crowley tilted his head. “Why were you even sparring in the first place?” he asked.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I think he took an interest in my duties as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. It wasn’t every day an angel had to go defend anything. That meant there was something to fight. Look here,” he continued. He unfurled his white wings—too big, too cumbersome for this space—and pointed at a completely innocent looking spot towards the end. “He knocked me down, and then tripped on his robes and fell on me and—well, I couldn’t open it up for ages! It wasn’t until I discorporated for the first time and had to sit in the healing pools for a bit that it was restored”

He folded his wings over each other on his back, but didn’t hide them away altogether. Crowley idly watched him with mild curiosity.

“Do you think I’ll need a healing pool?”

“Goodness, I hope not. There’s no telling what it would do to you.”

“Good point.” Crowley hefted his wing and pushed it into Aziraphale’s lap. Better get on with it, then.

Aziraphale kept talking as he worked. He wasn’t a good story-teller; he frequently split off from his current story, which led to a dozen other related tales or even led to somewhere else entirely.

“When She created us,” he said as he smoothed over a patch of feathers over the injury and began pushing small circles into the flesh with his thumbs, “do you remember how we all looked more or less like a human child?”

“Not really.”

“Ah. Well, we did, and our wings were meant to be proportionate with our appearance. But mine never were. They were the same size then as they are now. I looked ridiculous, dragging them around everywhere. Oh, how Saraqael laughed when I tripped over them.” Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, that reminds me…”

At first, Crowley stayed quiet as Aziraphale spoke. Eventually, he began to offer his own commentary without prompting, and then his own experiences too, and just like that, the stories started to flow.

It was remarkable that even after knowing each other for so long, they still did not know every single thing about the other. Aziraphale was endlessly amused by the recounting of the time Crowley spent five years scouring mountainous Japanese forests for a creature named ‘Tsuchinoko,’ only to realize there was a reason for its existence to be touted as legendary.

“Stop laughing,” grumbled Crowley. Aziraphale mimed zipping his mouth shut, but he still earned a light thumping with Crowley’s wing since he smiled the whole time. “How was I supposed to know? I don’t speak Japanese.”

“I do. You should have asked me to come with you. I would have said yes.”

Crowley, in turn, outright cackled when Aziraphale told him about the time he wandering about in a marketplace and accidentally tripped a gentleman into an enclosure of some particularly malevolent goats in his rush to try this new sweet.

“Marzipan,” he said with a gleam in his eye as Crowley laughed himself into a coughing fit. “It was hardly even worth the hurry. I’m sure it’s better now, though, the first batches of anything are rarely any good…”

“Oh, I’d expect nothing less from you, angel.”

Eventually, the words trickled away until they were sitting together in a pool of silence. Neither of them felt the need to go beyond it, so they didn’t. Bathed in the golden glow of his lamps, Aziraphale let his mind drift away from where his hands were rubbing at the tense knots of muscle running all up and down Crowley’s wing. Sharing his adventures with humans never was as fun since he had to revise his story as he told it to redact details that would certainly get more than a few raised eyebrows. It reminded him he had to be ever vigilant, which was plain exhausting. But with Crowley, he could relax.

It was the most natural thing in the world, relaxing, when it was with Crowley.

But, as everything was wont to do, it had to end. After all, Crowley must be uncomfortable. If last time’s experience was anything to go by, then Aziraphale had long since overstayed his welcome. The persistent ache confirmed this. Yes, the circumstances were almost violently different, but it still boiled down to the same stuff, didn’t it?

“This is nice,” he said softly. “My apologies for taking so long, but you’ll be just about finished here in a moment.”

Crowley did not answer immediately. This was not unusual when it came to their conversations, but when he continued not to respond a whole minute later, Aziraphale had to nudge him. “Crowley?”

“Mmyeah.”

“I’m almost fin—”

“I heard you.” Crowley deeply inhaled as though steeling himself for something, and then pushed himself upright. He stretched and yawned unnaturally widely. “That’s better,” he mumbled. He shook out his wings and gingerly spread them wide. “Oh, much better.” He flashed Aziraphale a sharp, genuine smile and tucked his wings away. “Thanks, angel.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. With a wave, he zapped their glasses clean and sent the wine bottles marching back to the rack. “Well, I suppose you’ll be on your way then?”

“What? Why? I mean—You can’t be serious.”

“Why ever not?” Crowley made an offended gesture at something behind Aziraphale. He twisted around, confused. “What is it?”

“Your wings!” he exclaimed, waving one hand up and down vigorously. “They’re a disaster! How have you never noticed?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said mildly. His feathers were admittedly much more unruly than Crowley’s, but that wasn’t his fault. He was a busy being. Grooming his wings was never a priority. “I don’t know. I don’t pay much attention to them.”

“Obviously,” muttered Crowley. “Come here, I’m fixing this mess. Can’t have a demon owing one to an angel, anyway.”

Aziraphale scoffed even as he let Crowley reach for his left wing. “You don’t owe me anything. I couldn’t bear it if I allowed anything, human, angel, or demon to think they had some due to pay back to me when they were in mortal—or immortal—danger. That includes you, Crowley.”

“Well sheesh, angel, ya could’ve just said ‘no,’” said Crowley after a bashful pause. He sounded amused, but Aziraphale could have sworn there was some relief in there too. “Alright, fine then. We’re even.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said proudly. “With that out of the way, I can take offense to what you’ve said about my wings.”

“Took you a while,” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale huffed. “You distracted me.”

“Part of the job description, angel.”

“Is grooming an angel’s wings also part of the job description?”

“I mean— No, but—” Crowley sputtered a little more before admitting defeat. Aziraphale hid his smile. “Okay, touché. But for your information, demons take way better care of their wings than you do.”

“Really?” Aziraphale said with genuine surprise. Crowley rarely offered up tidbits about the culture of Hell, if one could call it that. Granted, Aziraphale offered even less in terms of Heaven, but it was enlightening all the same.

“Yep. More of a thing between the younger ones, though. They still want to hold on to something that sort of connects them with Her”—Aziraphale made a sad noise in his throat—“so they’ll come together and fix each other’s wings up like some troupe of monkeys. It’s terrible. Most of ‘em get bitter enough when they’re older to let it go, thank Satan, but they still menace some lesser demon into doing it for vanity points.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why do you do it? You obviously care about it more than I do, and there aren’t any—what did you say, gremlins, up here to do it for you.”

Crowley’s hands slowed to a stop, warm and steady on Aziraphale’s wings. A distant sheen glossed over his eyes. “Same as anyone else,” he said. “It looks good.” A pleasant prickle washed over his skin as Crowley combed and picked away stray bits of fluff and let them drift to the ground. “And… I guess I sort of miss the tradition. Not because I miss Her that much, just—”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line and resumed his work in determined silence. Aziraphale stayed quiet, focusing on the light tugging on his feathers and an odd, light feeling that followed each vane as it was moved back into its proper place. Back in Heaven, before he was commanded to safeguard humanity, grooming was done strictly out of necessity. It didn’t mean something, especially not in the way it meant something to Crowley.

Like a troupe of monkeys. Not because I miss Her. There was something missing. Something vital to the core of Crowley. And in his own backwards and wildly indirect ways, he needed Aziraphale to help him replace it.

A flood of want took him aback at first, just because of the sheer amount of want there. And then he relaxed because it felt so right, there was no reason to be afraid. The ache, which had been hiding behind his heart this whole time, alleviated a little.

He quietly offered, “We should do this again sometime.”

Crowley’s hands physically stuttered, but his hum of, “Should we?” came out nonchalantly.

“Well, probably not.”

“That’s not a no.”

“This is true.”

“But it isn’t a yes.”

“This is an excellent display of your observational skills, my dear.”

“Shuddup.” There was an audible smile in Crowley’s voice. “When?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought quite that far ahead. Whenever we feel like it, I suppose.”

“Pretty hedonistic for an angel.” Before Aziraphale could formulate a response, Crowley finished, “I knew there was a reason I liked you. Oh, that reminds me, there was the horrible little bow-tie I saw at the market the other day. It’s that—what’d you say it was? Tartan? Tartan pattern, I had to get it for you…”

#peppervl #goholidayswap #good omens #hurt/comfort #happy ending #swearing #drugging #queerplatonic relationships #crowley #aziraphale #canon divergent #ineffable husbands #my writing #ibtwbyw

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isolaradiale · 5 years

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In the always-glittering streets of the Golden Ward, there were many things that got lost in the shuffle. Money and trinkets, to be sure, but common sense and no small bit of morality were often tossed by the wayside in some of the more lively and shadowed sections of the area. It was truly a playground of both the wealthy and the downtrodden---a place where someone could gain it all and lose everything in the blink of an eye.

It made sense that such a place was the favored den of K’horii the Merrymaker, especially since the only one he sought to make truly happy was himself and the thing that pleased him most was the suffering of anyone and everyone around him.

But as he looked down from his perch atop the roof of the Golden Dawn, he found himself frustrated. The daily bustling of the crowd was normally enough to sate his need for watching the rise and fall of the unfortunate inhabitants of the sector below, but these days, it all seemed so pedestrian. There was no excitement to it. Ever since the little foray into the pit of the dead with Athemia a few months ago, he’d found himself wanting more, but it seemed the population wasn’t willing to oblige him.

“Well. If you want something done right, I suppose you do have to do it yourself.”

The evening had barely begun in the central entertainment district when people found themselves looking at their surroundings with no mild bit of concern. All around the area, lights flickered rapidly, as if someone were constantly toying with the controls. Television screens and monitors and cell phones flashed between static and images that one could only describe as something they’d only dreamed of in horrible nightmares. Speakers dotted around the city rang out with a haunting melody, like the theme song to some horror-themed amusement park.

And then, they appeared.

Rising like little dots of light, the creatures seemed to almost pulled themselves out of the ground with a comical ‘pop’---small balloons that almost looked like cheerful and bubbly animated cats, except for the grotesque smiles painted on every one of their faces that promised they were much more than they seemed. They proved it when they all began to fly through the air randomly, leaving nothing but chaos in their wake.

Cars screeched and squealed to avoid smashing into them. Windows were shattered as they burst into storefronts. Parkgoers screamed as some of them chased away ride operators and took the controls for themselves, sending riders on terror-filled rides at speeds they were never meant to reach.

In an instant, the entirety of Golden had turned from a playground into utter chaos. And the one responsible for all of it was gladly taking center stage.

Atop the spire of the Dome, a monstrous cat-like creature crawled into place, all three of eyes glittering with dangerous intent. Every electronic device in the Ward suddenly bore its image as it settled into place and smiled pleasantly with a maw that had far too many teeth.

“Greetings and salutations to you, my dear captive audience. I have little doubt you’re enjoying my playground and all of its wonderful staff.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I have many names---the Mad Merrymaker, the Prince of Lunacy, the Denizen of Delirium---but I am better known to you mortals as K’horii. For this little excursion, however, you are free to call me Gamemaster.

“You see, you are all now players in a wonderful new game I’ve just come up with! We shall call it ‘Princes and Paupers.’ This Ward so loves to make or break people in a various sundry of ways, so why not make a game of it.

“The rules are quite simple! You merely have to kill my adorable little helpers wandering among you to collect points. If you have enough points by the end of the game, you’ll win a wonderful prize! What prize is that, you ask? Why, you continue to live the life you’ve known so far! There’s no greater gift than life itself, or so you mortals say.”

At the creature’s words, dissension brewed nearly automatically. Shouts of anger and disbelief rang out across the Ward, but many of them were silenced as small watch-like bands appeared on the wrists of every inhabitant, a counter blinking ominously on its display.

“I shall take your grumbling as the need for some method to keep track of your points in my lovely game. I have granted you such a device. I call it a ‘Catculator.’” The god laughed uproariously at his own pun, but stopped himself short just as quickly as he began.

“Rest assured, dear players, that this game is very real. Your fleeting bit of existence is on the line. If you require proof of that, I bid you watch ever so closely.”

He sent a paw crashing into the structure below and when he pulled it out again, one poor soul struggled in the grip of its claws. The device on his wrist began to glow with a sickly green light, but soon, his entire body was covered in green flames. Screaming out in terror, his hysterics quickly turned to yowls and screeches as he was transformed into a horribly sad-looking creature, a deformed thing that looked like some abominable cross between a cat and a man.

“This is the fate that awaits the paupers in this game: life as some unwanted thing too horrible to even look upon. Although, from experience, I can say they do taste much better than they look.

“But enough of that. There are rules that must be told! The first is that, of course, if you leave the area of play, you are automatically made a pauper and will meet your appropriate fate. The second is that you may steal points from other players! How, you ask? By killing them, of course. There are only so many points to be had in our game and you do want the chance to survive, don’t you? So play as hard or as smartly as you wish! Band together and survive, if you like! Just make sure to be above the threshold before time is up. Good luck!”

The broadcast ended as soon as the god finished speaking, leaving a sense of foreboding lingering over the crowd. Some people worked to remove the bracelets and some refused to believe the event was happening at all. But among the haze of disbelief, the harassment of the miniature menaces continued, refusing to let people consider their situation for long.

And all the while, the Merrymaker looked on, completely entertained for the first time in far too long.

Welcome to our latest mini-event, Pandemonium! We hope you’ll have fun with this little game (and the new lore).

So what’s going on?

Essentially, anyone and everyone inside Golden Ward at the beginning of the announcement has been roped into playing “Princes and Paupers,” a game devised by K’horii. The object of the game is to destroy the balloon summons that have appeared throughout the Ward to collect points. Those who have enough points at the end of the game will not be harmed; those who don’t will be transmogrified into a horrible creature. Fun, right?

How does this work?

Quite simply: White balloons are worth 100 points. Black balloons take 100 points away from you. You can focus on trying to pop as many white balloons as possible or you could strategize and use the black balloons against others… It’s all up to you. And, as K’horii stated, it is possible to completely steal another player’s points by killing them outright. But no one would go that far, right? Right.

Additionally, while this game is only being forced upon people in Golden Ward, all communications to other Wards are still open, meaning you can call in help. Of course, anyone who enters the Ward at that point becomes a player themselves. Please note that if you were in the Ward from the beginning of the game or enter it, you cannot leave it until the game is over.

You will have until midnight on 4/7 to get your participation in this event. Additionally, there will be no extensions. Good luck and have fun!

Frequently Asked Questions

Will my character really be transformed into something else if I lose?

Haha. Heehee. Hoho.

What’s the threshold we have to reach?

Only K’horii knows that. For now, you’re expected to gather as many points as possible.

Can we team up for this?

Yes and it’s completely encouraged! It might be wiser to work in numbers if you can develop a good enough strategy.

Will there be a reward for this?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#isola event: pandemonium #ir event: pandemonium #modnote #isola event

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le-french-duck-blog · 5 years

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Some theories for next episodes of DT17 or ideas for an AU.

So ... Hi everyone!

Normally, I’m just a ghost account that doesn’t post anything on the Internet and only gives likes on publications linked to my favorite shows. But for some reason, I came up with potential theories or AU material that I felt would be nice to share with you all.

It’s gonna be very long, so good luck for those who will try to read it. I don’t think anyone will read this post anyway. Just in case, I’m sorry if my post is disorganized and full of mistakes; English is obviously not my mother tongue.

*ANGST INCOMING*

To begin with, I wonder if I’m the only one who really wishes to see Huey and Louie meeting their mom in the past, just like Dewey did in “Last Christmas”. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel kinda frustrated Dewey is pretty much always the only character who gets to find more information about Della. Don’t get me wrong, I love this precious and adventurous duckling! It makes perfect sense he is the one who found all those clues about her and ended up going in the past. After all, compared to his brothers, he seems to be the most curious, enthusiastic and somewhat invested in the mystery that resolves around his mother.

The poor kid was not exactly in the mood to celebrate another Christmas without his mom.

Dewey seems to have a special connection with Della and identifies with her a lot, but I truly think Huey and Louie want their mother as much as him. They cope in different ways, like spending time with their loved ones. I just would like to see them getting more involved in the discovery of future revelations. The opportunity to travel to the past came randomly to Dewey and he had no time to drag his brothers in the adventure, so he is of course not to blame on this.

But I hope he told/ or is going to tell them he met Della in person on the night of Christmas. I hope he hasn’t kept/ won’t keep this moment for himself just like he did with the Spear of Selene. What if Dewey once again hid the truth to Huey and Louie (and maybe Webby this time?) and snaps it at a critical moment? I feel like sooner or later, a quarrel could burst between our favorite triplets because they probably have different opinions on their mother. What if, in a moment of anger, Dewey declares that he knows her best because he is the only one who got to meet her? How would Huey and Louie react to it? You remember what happened in The Secrets of Castle McDuck, right?

If Huey was plain mad at Dewey for lying to them, Louie was deeply hurt by it. The only statement he could make at that moment was: “You kept a secret about mom... That is not OK.”. Now the present situation has a whole new level of seriousness. Dewey saw her, heard her voice, talked to her and hugged her. Man, this time Louie would be extremely angry at Dewey for not describing everything about her and how it felt to take her in his arms! The way Louie clutches Della’s jacket in The Secrets of Castle McDuck shows how much more vulnerable he is than he lets on. He misses his mother terribly; to the point he must feel like an entire part of him is missing. Then his interest for money and material possessions could be explained as a helpless attempt to fill the void inside him. Maybe the fear to lack of everything else is the result of his usual self-absorption?

If Dewey traveled in the past once, then why wouldn’t Huey and Louie have the opportunity to do so after all? Time-travel seems to be very common in Scrooge’s life. He is indeed friend with the spirit of Christmas past and one of the animated-shorts reveals he owns a clock that can make him go to every time period he wishes.

Given the number of artifacts he keeps in his garage, it’s very likely that some of them work as time-machines. And if that’s not the case, Scrooge still has a mad scientist with crazy ideas as an employee: Gyro Gearloose. The probability that Huey and Louie will time-travel is very high, so what if Della met her three sons at three different moments of her life?

This is where my AU/theory begins:

Dewey tries to keep his Christmas adventure for himself but ends up telling Huey and Louie while in a tensed situation. His brothers are mad at him and even envious and jealous. They are still kids after all so it’s quite normal for them to think it’s unfair. Louie bursts into tears and leaves the room, to the dismay of his brothers. He looks for a place where he can be alone but cross path with Gyro who proudly shows him his very last successful invention: a time-machine. At this very moment, Louie begins to wonder if Gyro could have already been Scrooge’s employee ten years ago. He then asks him if he knew Della and the Spear of Selene, which mere mention makes the inventor angry. Gyro rambles on how the construction of this rocket was a disaster and even indicates the exact date of Della’s disappearance and the location of the rocket without noticing it. With this information, the duckling in green has only one idea in mind: go back in time and stop his mother from leaving without revealing his identity. Louie innocently asks how Gyro’s time-machine works and steals it from him when he has all the details. The scientist runs after him threateningly but he manages to use the time-machine correctly. One second before disappearing, he gets a glimpse of Huey and Dewey running worriedly in his direction and calling for him. But they are too late and Louie is gone.

They freak out as Gyro cries in despair for his lost invention. The red and blue ducklings attack the chicken and ask him what happened to their brother. After Gyro tells them everything, they run to his lab and search for another time-machine. The problem is… There are only prototypes that are not as precise as the machine Louie stole. Huey and Dewey still don’t hesitate to use one of them, despite the warning of Gyro, and travel in time. As the machine fails a few times to bring them to the right date and year, they meet Della and Donald at different periods. That could be the way we discover Della’s musical taste? Anyway, the first time the twins see the two brothers, they recognize Dewey, under the name of Bluey, and Huey then introduces himself as “Redey” (or something like that, I know that’s lame, I had no inspiration for this one !). They explain they are searching for their youngest brother “Greeney” (Meh. Sorry again. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) who lost himself somewhere in time. Donald and Della don’t pay much attention when Huey and Dewey appear from time to time over the years and continue living their life as if it was normal.

In the meantime, Louie travelled to the right date and managed to find and infiltrate the spaceport. He desperately looks for his mom through the long corridors and numerous rooms, trying very hard not to get caught. Suddenly, he hears someone shout and instantly recognize Donald. Following the voice, he arrives in front of a room and is shocked to discover Donald arguing with Della. Della says something like “You can’t stop me from leaving, whether you like it or not! I have to go on this adventure: This is a matter of life and death! You wouldn’t understand even if I explain it to you!” and begins to leave the room. To this, Donald answers that she is the most selfish person and mother he knows, resulting in his sister being heartbroken. She runs away in tears and Louie follows her.

To this, Donald answers that she is the most selfish person and mother he knows, resulting in his sister being heartbroken. She runs away in tears and Louie follows her. She gets in another room where she grabs a piece of paper to write an apology note for Scrooge while telling herself out loud she’s is doing the right thing. Louie can’t stand to hide anymore decides to approach her slowly while asking if she’s okay. At first Della is very surprised to see a kid in such a place but quickly realizes he looks pretty familiar to her. She questions him about his name, explaining that she met two boys from the future called Redey and Bluey who were looking for their brother Greeney. Louie makes the connection to his big brothers instantly, understanding they travelled in time as well to find him, and confirms he is the missing triplet. At his words, Della is so relieved to learn her relative from the future is safe and sound that she hugs him. Louie is completely taken aback by her gesture but feels whole for the first time in his life. The young woman apologizes for that sudden move and tells him she is happy to know the three brothers will end up being reunited.

Still, her curiosity makes her wonder why “Greeney” came here in the past, so Louie pretends to be a big fan of her adventure and a specialist in rocket building. He explains he wanted to meet his idol in person but declares as well he came to tell her the construction of the Spear of Selene is not over yet and that it still has malfunctions. He insists on the fact it would be too risky to take off now and Della simply answer she knows this but must leave all the same because the world is in danger.

Louie doesn’t understand what she means by that, but suddenly feels the need to reveal his true identity to her. Before it happens, his mother explains she found a cursed artifact or a terrible weapon that could lead to mass destruction or apocalypse and the only solution to avoid a disaster is to bring it far away from the Earth. Della adds she didn’t tell Donald and Scrooge, because she wouldn’t want them to take the rocket and risk to never going back. At this, Louie instantly proposes to take the rocket himself; ensuring that he would return to his time when he would be sure the weapon isn’t a threat for the Earth anymore. But when he tries to make a demonstration of the time-machine to Della, he’s horrified to discover the battery died (Gyro had already used it a few times to make sure it worked).

He bawls his eyes out when he slowly realizes the terrible situation he finds himself in: He is stuck in a time that isn’t his and can’t save her mother like he wanted. He refuses to let her go but knows deep down it would be selfish to stop her. The whole world would be impacted: thousands or billions of innocent lives. He doesn’t want to make this choice for everyone else and doesn’t think he can. As time is running out, Della tells him that she can’t wait any longer and has to go. To comfort him a bit she promises that his two brothers will find him soon and bring him home. Her last words to him are: “I’m sure my mission will be a success. I’m Della Duck, after all! I can’t wait to come back and see my children hatch. And I’m looking forward to meeting you and your brothers in the future as well. You look a lot like my brother Donald when he was younger… You could be one of his kids! See you!”.

When Huey and Dewey finally appear in the right time and find Louie, he is a crying mess that looks helplessly through a window as Della leaves the Earth with the Spear of Selene and disappears in the unknown.

Maybe Huey and Dewey will blame Louie for not being able to save their mother after returning to their time. Maybe they won’t listen to his explanations because, to them, he is just the “evil triplet” who lies and acts cowardly. Then, maybe Louie will lose his mind, run away from the manor and become a true villain.

That’s it! Congratulations if you read it so far! I warned you it was angsty as *D*uck !

It’s of course extremely unlikely to happen that way but one can dream, huh? This is fanfiction material, so… Feel free to adapt these ideas to your liking. My lazy butt feels unable to write a whole fanfic in a language that’s not mine (well, I still managed to describe the entire plot I imagined in my head, so I’m not that lazy in the end!). I’m sorry if someone already proposed a theory like this or created an AU based on a similar idea. I haven’t seen all the posts that were written on the fandom or simply don’t remember where I found some inspirations. That being said, don’t hesitate to give credit to the users I may have quoted unconsciously.

#ducktales #ducktales2017 #huwey dewey louie #Louie Duck #dewey duck #huey duck #Huey Dewey and Louie #donald duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #Time travel AU #Why do I write texts this long #It took me two days for this thing #help im dying #Why do I create angst when all I need is fluff #Why do I make myself cry for duck's sake?!

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disgrays-on · 6 years

Text

ever thine, ever mine

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Jason Todd // Reader

A/N: After I finished writing a huge part of this royal AU and cut out a huge chunk of it out during editing, I realised nothing really happened in this fic, nothing was truly resolved, nothing makes sense and everything is rushed but this will have to do bc I’ve come so far to just scrap this whole thing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The thing is you've always sort of known that there was something...not right about all of this, something that just didn't sit too well with you. Jason had been more than charming when you had first met him. He was attractive and he knew it, flaunted it around with a knowing gaze and a boyish grin. He was passionate - you couldn’t get him to shut up once he started talking about something that he was really into - and it made him all the more endearing, really.

It only took you about ten minutes into a conversation with him to realise that there was more to him than what met the eyes. For one, his confident facade and cocky attitude were flimsy, at best, under critical scrutiny. If you hadn’t been closely observing him that first time, you would have missed the shifting eyes and the constant calculating gaze that made you think that he was far less extroverted than he wanted people to think.

There was just something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on even after knowing him for as long as you have. Him being a crazy axe murderer was out of the question or at least, you hoped so. (You had brought it up once and he had laughed so hard until he was red in the face, grinning up at you once he was finished and fondly patting you on the back.)

He had his bad days, definitely not the most mentally sound, but you didn’t think you could name anyone who was in this day and age. Add that to the fact that you had seen the formal garb and the medals that he had hastily shoved into a crumbling box when you burst into his room one day, unannounced. He pushed it carelessly to the very back of his wardrobe, remaining silent as he did, but you didn’t need to be a detective to figure out he had been some sort of soldier. That had been enough of an explanation for his fidgety self and the odd habits that he seemed to unconsciously have.

He was mysterious, if not secretive. Navigating through his past was like navigating through a minefield. It was difficult to know what would get him to open up, get that shy little happiness to creep up around his eyes or what would get him to shut down faster than you could blink, get him drawing back further into the hollow shell that he had been in once. He’d get wistful looks sometimes when he thought you weren’t looking and it was always over the most random things. You didn’t want to push the issue because you understood the need for space, because you needed it too sometimes.

He was incredibly brilliant too, maybe not in the most conventional of ways but so clever in the way that always made you stop and think. He had a thorough knowledge of the inner workings of politics but always seemed to curl his nose up whenever you brought up anything of that sort. He didn’t own a television, didn’t like the news too much either. His curtains were always pulled shut until one day when he would feel suffocated enough, at which point they would be drawn back and the windows would be thrown wide open.

You didn’t know what he did but he had money and quite a bit of it too. You were quite content not knowing, really. As long as it wasn’t hurting anyone and not hurting you, it was fine that he was so distant about his past. You had things you didn’t want to talk about too. You didn’t think anything he could hide would be too devastating anyways.

That particular morning had started out as it normally would have, nothing terribly remarkable at all. You had work so you had slipped out of bed pretty early on, had a quick breakfast and had gotten ready as you normally would have, not forgetting to drop a small kiss on a bleary Jason’s forehead before leaving.

The small yet still monstrous army of tiny children that you had for students was already dutifully waiting for you when school time began and everything proceeded as it should have. At least, it seemed so. It wasn’t until you had to dismiss the kids that everything seemed to move downhill at an alarmingly rapid pace.

“Is it true?” One of your students had asked, her eyes wide and shiny, “Are you really friends with a Prince?”

The question had confused you more than anything else, truly. She had whispered her question with the awe and wonder of a completely lovestruck child that you had simply assumed that she must have been confusing reality with the tales you’ve been regaling to the kids for the past few days.

“What do you mean?” You had asked then, foolishly unaware of what toils and troubles lied ahead of you.

“Well, are you?” She asked again, eyebrows furrowing and soft cheeks puffing up, “Mommy said you were!”

You definitely weren’t, that much you were sure of. It didn’t even seem like a possibility to you. The only royal family you knew of was the one from Gotham and they were thousands of miles away from where you were. They’ve just never been relevant to your life enough for you to have cared about them so you weren’t sure where she could have gotten that from.

You laughed nervously because denying young children anything would only unleash the seemingly never-ending barrage of questions that they had ready specifically for moments like this one. You shook your head, “No, definitely not, sweetheart.”

“Well, my mommy said so.” She huffed, crossing her arms, “She said she saw you on TV with a Prince on that show that she always watches, the one with all the people saying the mean words!” The bell had conveniently rung at that point, saving you from having to answer her, but it had also just thrown you into a different form of hell. Out of the frying pan into the fire. Except it wasn't just a small tiny baby fire, no, it was a huge wild uncontrollable forest fire. As if set off by the school bell, shit had promptly decided it was the right time to go down then. You didn't know if you were to feel thankful or disgruntled over the fact that everything had only begun to fall apart after the working day was over. You had been seeing some of your students off when you were stopped in your tracks by a frazzled coworker, panting and sweating as she ran up to you. “It’s crazy out there!” She had said, looking severely dishevelled and alarmed as she led you to a window overlooking the front yard of the school, “Apparently they’re all here looking for you!” The sight that you were greeted with was enough to send your heartbeat into overdrive, pounding hard against your ribcage. Your mouth had dried up, all words and thoughts suddenly lost to the abyss that was your confusion and fright. You had no idea what was happening and why it was happening but this didn't seem good. The entire front area of your workplace was covered with hundreds of people. Sprawled across the yard were the paparazzi and journalists and news reporters and people with their cameras and recording equipment.

The sheer number of people present was terrifying, and not to mention, dangerous. And they were here for you? It made no sense. You didn't think you had done anything incriminating lately but you could always be wrong. Maybe all those years that you’d spent illegally downloading music was catching up to you. But that didn't explain the amount of press outside, waiting for you.

A quick check of your phone that you had silenced for work revealed that almost everyone you knew had been trying to contact you for the last few hours. That definitely wasn’t good. A big portion of the missed phone calls and unanswered text messages you received had been from Jason. A burst of yearning coursed through you. Jason. If he were here, you would have long ago submitted yourself to the comfort and warmth and safety of his arms. He would make this all go away somehow, he’d take care of all this and make it all better. How badly you wished he was here. He’d sent quite a few but the one that stood out to you the most was the first one he sent.

I don't know how they found out. I’m so sorry.

You didn’t think it was possible but your heart screeched to a halt at that. Found out what? Could he have been anymore cryptic? Whatever it was, he seemed to be convinced that all of this was his fault. The sudden urge to open the news app was unbearable so you booted it up, scrolling through. It didn’t take long for you to find exactly what you were looking for. Any more surprises today and you were sure your heart would stop for real.

ROYAL RUMOUR: LOST GOTHAM PRINCE FOUND IN A SECRET LOVE AFFAIR?

LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES! PRINCE JASON OF GOTHAM AND COMMONER!

ROYAL HOUSE ISSUES FORMAL STATEMENT

Suddenly, crazy axe murderer didn’t sound so bad. You scrolled through a couple more, feeling more and more dazed after each one. There were so many pictures of you and Jason - all from the same night, it seemed - and there was no room to deny it either. It was so clearly you and so clearly Jason, holding hands and eating dinner and laughing together and kissing.

You remembered that night clearly, Jason had dragged you to one of his favourite fast food restaurants for some ‘real good food’ and the two of you had a blast. The amount of information that the press had already managed to gather on you was terrifying. Even with the short amount of time, they had found out who you were, where you worked, where you lived, even the cafe that you often frequented.

When your instincts had told you that something wasn’t entirely right, you had expected some kind of family issue. Maybe Jason’s parents were both dead or maybe his family was unaccepting and they didn't like him very much. Maybe he never had a family to begin with or maybe he was running away from something, someone. But this was absolutely not it. You couldn't have predicted this outcome.

Jason, your Jason, was a Prince. Second-in-line to the throne after his older brother, the same Jason who rarely ever appeared in public when he was younger but when he was, he was always so bright. The Jason who was reported to have literally disappeared off of the face of the Earth after he was kidnapped and tortured during his deployment.

His sudden reappearance would definitely explain all this attention and you just happened to have been caught in all of it. How could you have missed it? No wonder he had seemed so familiar to you. You mentally berated yourself for being careless enough to not have recognised him. But the royal family had always been a private bunch of people, understandably so, and you simply didn’t care enough about them to have updated yourself with everything they did over the years.

You knew the Gotham royal family were made of mostly the King’s wards, that was until a few years back when a blood son was introduced to the court. Everyone had talked about it for a couple of months, matters regarding claim over the throne being one of the more controversial topics, but everything settled down as rumours often do. You saw articles or heard news of them in passing but you’ve never really ever truly looked into them.

And despite the fact that this couldn’t have possibly changed a thing for you - because you adored the Jason that you had fallen for, the one who often made you delicious meals, who grumbled over bad movie adaptations of books, who had sulked for about a day because he couldn’t keep a dog in his apartment - it didn’t change the fact that Jason had lied to you for so long. That realisation had hurt more than anything else but it also pissed you off a bit. Why didn’t he just tell you? You wouldn’t have been too upset but at least, this wouldn’t have happened.

I’ll explain everything when you get back. Alfred will pick you up. Stay safe.

His latest message had been sent a few hours ago and then not another word from him. You’d always prided yourself as quite the eloquent person, even in your text messages, but it was seemingly unavoidable for your response to have only been a string of question marks. Left unread, of course. If it was this bad for you, it was probably even worse for him. You had so many questions that no one seemed to have the answers to and you were feeling so many emotions that you weren’t exactly sure which one you should be feeling. Anger seemed to be winning over though so maybe anger.

Getting home was an extremely trying process in itself. Going outside had resulted in a lot of chaos, yelling and shoving and flashes of pictures, and that didn’t get you anywhere. This was something that you expected to only happen in the movies or to other people who were definitely more important and more influential. Certainly not to you. You didn’t think you did anything important enough to garner this much attention.

But you needed to get home, to get to Jason. You needed to hear him out, needed an explanation as to why he thought hiding this from you was such a brilliant idea. Your being foolishly naive and blind to it probably helped him out though. You still couldn’t get over the fact that you didn’t make the connection.

Alfred, the person that Jason said would pick you up, was an old gentleman who appeared to be way too unperturbed for this to have been the first time. He offered his services, along with a handful of burly guards in pristine suits, to escort you to Jason’s apartment. The journey was thankfully less hectic than the situation had been at your workplace, at least. Alfred’s sarcastic remarks was a very welcome distraction to your situation, you found your nerves settling slightly. For a while, you had room to breathe and to process everything that happened.

When you arrived, Jason had welcomed you with a tight embrace, muttering a quick apology against your temple before pulling away. He looked worse for wear, exhaustion rolling off of him in waves even though he was fine this morning. All your anger dissipated at once. You could wait to reprimand him, he was already bad enough as it was. You reached up to cup his face, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. A small smile flittered at the corners of his lips. This was the side he only wore around you, the side that rarely ever came out save for when the both of you were alone in the safety and comfort of a bedroom.

He only had a moment to spare before a knock on the door sounded through the apartment. A young man, Jason’s older brother - annoyingly enough, your brain is quick to recognise this royal this time - stood at the door, a soft smile breaking on his face as soon as his eyes land on Jason.

Jason frowned, dismayed, “What are you doing here?”

Richard, who you had to admit was beautiful, had promptly pulled Jason into a big hug. Jason had sighed in return but let himself be hugged, though their sweet greeting is cut short by Alfred’s stern corralling. Though their meeting had been pleasant, the moments afterwards felt far from that. It didn’t take long for Richard to speak his mind out, anger and distress in his every word.

“Why didn’t you come home, Jay?” He asked after a few minutes of ranting, voice finally quieting down. He looked shaken, heartbroken as he turned to his younger brother.

It seemed as good a time as any to give them privacy so you joined Alfred who was bustling around in Jason’s kitchen. From the kitchen, you could hear the yelling and the rough grunts but it stopped as quickly as it started. Jason came out a bit shaky and red around the eyes but it seemed like a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. The easygoing atmosphere returned easily after that, the silence of the apartment easily replaced by their light banter as if they hadn’t just seen each other for the first time in a long time a few minutes ago.

“I came as soon as I could.” Richard admitted sheepishly, letting out a sigh of relief as he sunk into one of the sofas in Jason’s sitting room, “B didn’t want us all overwhelming you but we couldn’t just stay away.”

“We?” Jason parroted, a frown on his face, more resigned than anything.

He shrugged, not in the slightest bit apologetic as he replied, “We missed you, Jason.”

Jason didn’t seem all too pleased at the sound of more people coming but Richard had said that there was no stopping them, not when they’d finally found Jason and were determined to bring him back home. Their father, on the other hand, would be joining them the next, not at all because he wanted to but because he had to do things properly, more officially. After all, it wasn’t always that a prince thought missing showed up in a whole different city altogether, so far away from home.

Something told you he was more than thrilled that his family were coming around though. He didn’t need to say it, his despondency before all of this occurred told you much about how much he actually missed his family. Seeing him with his siblings was like seeing a new side of him - he was more relaxed, more content even if he didn’t see it for himself. Seeing him settling into the family dynamic without much effort made your heart flutter in your chest.

“It was nice meeting you,” His older brother had said before he left, smiling at you so earnestly b “Thanks for taking care of Jay for us.”

And that had been enough to jar you. Everything made sense but at the same time, nothing made sense like everything were pieces of puzzles but none of them fit together perfectly. Jason had taken the time to explain it all to you and you’d pieced enough through the conversation happening around you but it was still overwhelming and sitting around, listening to Jason and his family didn’t help at all. You’d been stewing in your anxiety, thinking of what this could possibly mean for you and for him and for everything. He was a real prince, an actual member of the royal family. What the hell.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You asked as soon as the door closed behind his family, the anger sneaking up on you and growing by the minute.

“I was going to.” He grumbled.

“But you didn’t!”

And maybe you had yelled a lot of things then that you didn’t mean now and things you regretted but honestly, you deserved it just a bit after all that you’d been through today. You didn’t have any doubts that you’d soon make up with him but for now, you were still ticked off and feeling a little petty. You wondered how much you could sell all the hoodies you've stolen from him for. Probably a lot. Maybe you'd go on eBay. Maybe you'd put one up tonight and see.

(The bids climbed faster than you could even comprehend, hundreds to thousands to a few hundred thousand. You might have yelled a bit. Jason, who had been sitting next to you at the time, had given you a confused look before peering over to look at your laptop. He had laughed so hard then and told you that his dad would definitely not be happy about this.)

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mnhynq · 6 years

Text

Don’t Go | Lee Donghyuck

Pairing: Donghyuck x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Both your and Donghyuck’s playfulness puts your relationship in danger

A/N: I made a text scenario to go along with (this but I can’t link it rn ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

You and Donghyuck had been dating for almost 6 months and you didn’t have any complaints, at least in the beginning

You knew that he’s a very playful person and you loved that about him

He always managed to lighten the mood and you were particularly fond of the moments when he made fun of Mark (literally all Hyuck stans, lmao leave Mark alone)

If his jokes weren’t enough to bring you to tears, Mark’s reaction finished the job

On good days you would leave the sidelines and team up with him and tease Mark together

Those were only good days for some

In addition to making Mark’s life a little bit more difficult, you went around causing mischief which usually involved those around you

From chasing Jeno down the halls of their dorm to scaring the life out of poor Jisung

Stop i could've dropped my croissant

You soon found out that even though you loved being by his side while he wreaked havoc, you didn’t like being on the opposing side at all

It was only a matter of time before his teasing began to get to you

It was insufferable, you couldn’t make a simple mistake without him bringing it up and reminding you of it for the whole week that followed

Your initial way of dealing with him was to fight fire with fire, try to beat him at his own game

But that only seemed to make the situation worse

Both of you began saying things that would slightly singe the other and it happened more and more often

Eventually you realised that it wasn’t the right approach and decided to confront Donghyuck to tell him how you felt about the whole situation

You formed your sentences carefully, not wanting to offend him or seem like the victim but he still didn’t take it very well

He accused you of being overly sensitive and not knowing how to take a joke, and even went as far as to call you a hypocrite because you did the exact same thing to others but only found it a problem when it happened to you

You had to admit that it was true, at least a part of it was

It must have been your karma for attacking all the other members of nct alongside him

But at that moment the jokes weren’t what bothered you, you understood that they’re just jokes

What bothered was you that he refused to listen to you when you asked if he could stop or at least tone down the jokes

You didn’t want to pin the blame on him, you only wanted him to understand how you felt

You explained that even though you were aware that he was only joking, some of his words did in fact hurt your feelings and that he had to learn how to draw a line and know when he went too far

Hearing this made his blood boil, you were portraying him as the bad guy as if you hadn’t said some nasty things to him too

It wasn’t your intention for the harmless confrontation to turn into a full blown argument, yet that was the situation you found yourself in

You were shouting about how you wished he had listened to you when you told him to stop without making a big deal out of it

And he was shouting right back at you, saying that he isn’t the only one at fault and that he refuses to apologise until you realise that

Just like he refused to apologise, you refused to hear another word he said and walked away without even a goodbye

After that you didn’t contact him and he didn’t contact you, both of you too stubborn to realise your mistakes

You assumed you both needed time to cool down so you gave him space

But you were surprised when you went to visit him about a week later and his attitude hadn’t changed

He was giving you more than just the cold shoulder, alternating between glaring at you and completely ignoring you

Jaemin informed you that he had been quite distant lately, barely acknowledging any of the other members

You wanted to make things right, but Haechan wouldn’t allow you an opportunity to do so

If you tried to speak to him directly he would block you out, or turn and start a conversation with someone else

Other times he would turn his back on you and walk away

Approaching him indirectly also had no use, as he was ignoring all your calls and messages

Haechan wouldn’t tell you that the reason he was ignoring you was because you still hadn’t admitted that you were wrong

At that point he was aware that what he had done was also unjust, but he was too stubborn to admit it first

You began growing tired of the on-going silent fight and felt like your relationship could no longer move forward

You didn’t want to end things with Donghyuck but you didn’t want to hold him back or make him feel unhappy either

It was a difficult decision to make and even though you knew that breaking up with him would be a slimy and cowardly act, you simply weren’t strong enough to do it in person

Your plan was to tell him that you would no longer be causing him any problems and when the time was right you would apologise to him personally

Even sending the message felt like a difficult task, your cold, shaky hands only made it worse

Donghyuck ignored your first few messages, much like he had been doing before focusing only on the game he was playing on his phone

After beating around the bush for a while you decided it was time to get straight to the point and told him how you felt

“I think we should break up”

This immediately caught his attention, but he wasn't sure how to reply

You saw the three small dots appear on the bottom of your screen before disappearing again samsung users i apologise sdfhbs

You waited to see if he had anything to say but you were met with silence once more

Deciding it would be best to just get it over with you continued typing

You explained that it wasn’t an easy decision to make but you thought it was the best

You didn’t want to hold him back or make him feel miserable, you cared about him and wanted him to be happy even if it meant you had to break up with him for that to happen

Donghyuck was filled with panic, he didn’t expect things to go this far and had hoped that you would both be back to your old selves by the end of the week

His mind was racing and he couldn’t form a proper sentence, it took everything he had to write one message which consisted of two words

Two words he hoped would let you see how sorry he was and how much he regretted everything he had done up until that point

“Don’t go”

You questioned what he meant by this, confused because he had been pushing you away for almost two weeks

He struggled to type his message, his hands still shaking as he paced up and down his bedroom

He tried his best to explain himself in the most sincere way possible

He had to do anything, everything he could to make sure you would stay

His second message was much longer and more detailed than the first

It explained in depth how he felt at the time and how he was feeling at that moment, but also how he would feel if you left him

In addition to apologising he also pleaded for you to stay

A part of you felt relieved that he felt that way, the fear you carried with you that he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with you fading away

But it hurt that he blamed himself for what happened all of a sudden

You reassured him that he wasn’t the only one to blame, and told him that from then on you would work on your flaws together starting with being careful of what you say to others

He asked you once more if you still wanted to break up with him and you promised him that you would never leave

#nct #nctwriters #nct haechan #lee donghyuck #nct scenarios #haechan scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 #lee donghyuck scenarios #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct donghyuck #q; on a quest w/ zelda

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yourhappypappypatton · 6 years

Note

97 logicality please? Ur awesome at writing BTW

#97: It just… hurtsPairing: Platonic LogicalityWord Count: 1123Warnings: Ex boyfriend, crying, feelingsSummary: the breakup has been hard.. just maybe not on the side you were expecting.

It had been a few weeks since Moving On parts 1 and 2 had been filmed, and things had more or less gone back to normal in the mindscape. Roman and Patton seemed to have gotten over the breakup easier and faster than they would have if Thomas hadn’t summoned them and made them talk over everything. Not that he would ever admit it, but that was a relief to Logan. He didn’t know what the more emotional sides would want- or even need- to hear at times such as that.

Despite not understanding the deep feelings that the others are prone to feeling, Logan had noticed a tightness in his chest and a slight exhaustion within himself throughout the past few days. It was odd. It was almost as if logic had been stripped away from himself in nearly infinitesimal sections. He would not notice that the weight was there, replaced by emotion if he was not as incredibly perceptive as he was.

The most frightening part about this newest development is that Logan cried the other night. Late at night, he felt the tightness swell in his chest, and he finally understood what it meant to have to swallow the lump in your throat. It was fascinating, yes, but it was also overwhelming and he could not stop thinking about Thomas’ ex boyfriend. He was stuck in his room, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, said tears blurring his vision. The happy memories of the relationship and the nights spent together running through his head.

Logan stood from his desk, and walked the short distance to his bed. As silly as it may sound, those few steps felt incredibly long. Logan practically collapsed onto his bed, and hugged a pillow close to his chest. The steady stream of tears turned into something larger as he continued to think over the times that used to be. Soon enough, Logan could think of nothing aside from him. He was attempting to repress his sobs and he pressed his face into the pillow, ignoring the way it made his glasses press into his face. The slight pain from hs glasses frames was nice, it was grounding… and above everything else, he wasn’t sure that he could summon enough energy to take them off. Fascinating. Is this truly the kind of turmoil that Patton has to suffer through every day?

Is this truly the kind of turmoil inside Patton that he decides to bottle up, and hold within himself until it simply becomes too much and he has no choice but to break down? Logan truly wasn’t aware of what strength his fellow side possessed until now… and speaking of his fellow side, Patton was walking up the stairs, humming a simple little tune as he did so. He paused by the logical side’s door, and knocked in a ‘shave and a haircut’ pattern before speaking. “Hey, Lo! I just fixed up some dinner! I was thinking we could just do some simple PB and J tonight, does that sound good to you?” no answer. How peculiar! Logan almost always answered his door. Patton hadn’t even received an affirmative, or even a flippant “One moment, Patton.” Patton furrowed his eyebrows in concern. Maybe a different tactic would be more effective!

“Hey, Lo, if you don’t come quick, Ro might finish off all the strawberry Crofter’s before you can even get a taste of it!” Patton bounced anxiously on his heels as he listened intently… nothing. Patton could feel the smile slip off of his cheeks at the lack of response. Surely, Logan would tell him if something was wrong or if he was taking a nap, right? “Logan? I’m coming in. I’m worried about you.” Patton opened the door, and made a sympathetic whine in the back of his throat as he saw the sight before him.

Logan was facing the door on his side, nose red and running buried in one of his galaxy-pillowcase clad pillows, a steady stream of tears dripping onto the pillow and the comforter below him. Upon seeing Patton, Logan sat up, discarding the pillow as quickly as possible. He sniffed a few times and rubbed his nose harshly before roughly wiping his cheeks free of any tears. He reached underneath his glasses to ensure maximum dryness of face before attempting to speak with Patton. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good evening, Patton,” he winced at how dry and gravelly his voice sounded. He could give Virgil a run for his money. “How are you fairing?”

Patton didn’t seem to be falling for it. He knelt down by his bed and took Logan’s trembling hands in his own. Logan was determined not to look into Patton’s eyes, sternly keeping them locked onto his lap. “I.. apologise, Patton. I should have warned you before exposing you to such an-” he paused briefly to find the right words “Emotional display. I shall ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Logan could hear Patton sigh, and he couldn’t help but agree. He was disappointed in himself, too. He could see a tear hit the lens of his glasses. “Logan, please look at me.” Logan waited a few moments, took a breath, and then met Patton’s eyes. Instead of finding disgust, and disappointment as he was expecting, Logan found nothing but love and understanding in those brown eyes. “Logan, I want it to happen again. Showing your emotions is healthy.”

Logan nearly snorted. “Weren’t you just hiding your own feelings for our sake.”Patton put a finger to his lips with a soft laugh. “We’re not talking about that right now, Lo.” the emotional side suddenly became serious once more. “I want to know what’s wrong. Please, let me in.”

Logan bit his lip and retracted his hands from Patton’s in order to push his glasses up his nose. It helped ground him in a way. “I was… thinking about the recent breakup Thomas and… all of us had to endure, and suddenly I couldn’t stop it from happening. I began to… to cry, Patton. I could not stop thinking about him, and how happy Thomas was with him, and it just… hurts. I haven’t the slightest clue how to make these feelings go away and how to become myself once more.” Patton had moved beside him on the bed and began to rub his back. “Well, Lo, I think the best thing you can do in this situation is just what I told Thomas. One step in front of the other. Soon enough, you’ll go back to your own smart, logical, rational self, but for now,” Patton paused “Don’t be afraid to feel things. I’ll be here every step of the way with you.”

(A/N) HA! I MADE LOGAN FEEL FEELINGS! remember, even if you’re not comfortable with it yet, feeling your feelings is v v v important. Don’t hide what you’re feeling from others. Also, I hope you don’t mind that I made it platonic. I really can’t see Logicality any other way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ If you want to send me a prompt, click here!

Taglist taken from LJ’s Editable Taglist Spreadsheet

@emokittenlikesgore@completelyclevername@urtrashhq@too-random-for-me@deathbyvenusftw@ill-interested@just-another-transblog@tree4life25@tsfanart@johnnyboylaurens@ams-parker@staticsanders@panicatthefalloutphanficphandom@allthemetalsoftherainbow@depressed-alone@theroyalramen@hikariyukino@magicmapleleaf @pieces-of-annedrew@saphirestrike@asalwayss@romanssippycup@virgils-anxiety@redundant-statements-for-400@skylagamingfea@clueingforblogs@ladynikitablack@fairly-close@dibleopard@haikyuupaladin@all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2@migraine-marathon@alextheodd@sandersfanders @pansexual-cat@hanramz-the-fander@anastasialestina@darude-sanderstorm@sanders-sides-shambles @royallyanxious@thestoryofme13@madelynnaa@i-will-physically-fight-you@a-blog-just-for-sanders@trashfireiplier@the-optimism-of-the-ostriches@callboxkat@kurna-kovite@221biotchplease@pattonly-absurd@starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer@pattykrabbies@shygirl4991@musicphanpie-b@superintrovertfangirl@silversunshine2012@lockolocka@nightly_illustrator @makemeaplant@today-only-happens-once@koalaaquabear@catsandrandomness@rose-gold-roman@mockingjaysinger@musicsavedmefromdeath@anachronistic-cat@heythereprincey@dudlebuggs@sanders-trash-4ever@siriuswhiskers@pinkeasteregg@virgilisaneternalmood@multi-fandom-trash-x9000@kirsten-the-freak@thepusheenqueen@artistictaurean@funsizedgremlin@logan-exe@thecrimsoncodex@unknownsandersfan @yourmomsafalsehood@robanilla@dementeddracon@ive-given-up-on-it@v-blue-writer@sassy-in-glasses@hunterjaegerthings@blazeimagines101@sanders-fam-ily@trashypansexual@toujours-fidele@paxtonlovestea@lowkey-logicality@do-rey-me@hottopicvirge@rptheturk@candiukas@nottodaylogic@ffsas-side-account@shadow-walker-1201@wingless-siren@milomeepit@grey-lysander@fricksonsticks@baileystarsketches@yurai-brokeit@multi-fandom-trash-x9000@ace-of-hufflepuffs @voices-and-stardust@deadinsidebutliving@ocotopushugs@datonerougecookeh@lana–22@kentato-kenart@logically-sided@osnapitzbc@ruuworld@floatyghosty@theworldismysupernova@jughead-is-canonically-aroace@mercythemermaid@etherealweekes@pearls-of-patton@jade-dragon226-fan@mollycassmith@hi-disappointed-im-daughter@ace-v-p-d @acrobaticcatfeline@thomas-must-get-to-sleep@sesame-icecream@dreamerhowelll@fireflightyt@confinespfpersonalknowledge@reba-andthesides@thesilentbluesparrow@angered-turtle@fanatic564@emovirgil@misc-merde@captain-loki-xavier@evilmuffin

#logicality #platonic logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #platonic relationship #my writing #drabble #prompt #thomas sanders #sanders sides #fander #fanders #sanders sides fandom #thomas sanders fandom #crying

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marshmallowmalfoy · 6 years

Text

Tea or Dare // Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Reader

Type: Fluff? Going on smutty (the end is pretty much smut) but not really? Idk. It’s not sweet but it’s not too nasty either so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Description: Y/N is definitely not a party girl, but here friends managed to drag her to an insane party at who knows where. When the small group arrived at the massive party, it's as though every student from their fifth year up is there, and everyone has gone crazy. Y/N, being very reserved and shy, is completely out of her element. She’s uncomfortable and wanting to leave, that is… until she runs into Fred Weasley, who’s two years ahead of her and warms her up to the whole scene.

A/N: I dont really write stuff like this, so like... lmk if you guys want more smutty stuff like this or nah. Sorrt if this sucks :/

Warnings: A little graphic at some parts? Mostly skin/extremely low-intensity nudity. Weed- smoking & edibles, Alchohol- drinking and getting drunk etc. Pretty much a high school party but one that got out of hand? Idk. It’s not pretty, but it’s not ugly. Don’t say I didn’t warn you… I guess?

Even from outside the estate, you could hear the bass, could feel it shaking the house before you could even set foot in it. Music was pounding through the walls as you follow your friends into the manor. Within minutes, you had lost them, and you were stranded by yourself in the sea of Hogwarts students. It was the final party of the summer, the one right before you started your fifth year. You were a stranger to parties, they weren’t really your scene, especially ones where nearly half the school was in attendance.

Muggle music was blasting so loud you’d have to yell just to say a word to someone. Strangely enough, without our house robes on, no one seemed to care about your status. You were pushing through people when you noticed that “mud-bloods” and pure-bloods were grinding on each other. You couldn’t be sure if they knew what they were doing, the smell of alcohol in the air was prominent and an indicator that they could very well be drunk. It wasn’t the warm, sweet smell of butterbeer, no, this was bitter and foul. Vodka, tequila, fireball, gin... the list could go on, but if you were drinking, you were drinking. If you weren’t drinking, you were getting high. You could almost tell which house a person was from by their preference, Gryffindors and Slytherins were the drinkers, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were the stoners.

You’d never seen this side of Hogwarts students before. It was surprising to you truly, you’d never expect such foul behavior from the well-rounded students from your school. People were kissing sloppily, others laughing loudly, some even sobbing. You had definitely gotten there late because the party was in full swing, and you seemed to be the only level-headed one there.

You’d worked your way past masses of bodies to the corner of the dining room where the tenants of the room had just finished a game of beer-pong and were now insisting that Su Li and Fay Dunbar allow some of the boys to do body shots off of them. Of course, they agreed, laying down on the table. You couldn’t stand to watch. You had looked up to Fay in a way. She was kind and caring, and seeing her like this made your stomach flip. As you tore your eyes away, you saw him. He was coming into the room just then, his eyes scanning over everyone there when his eyes met yours. He smirked as you looked away, but you didn’t get to see his expression.

Fred Weasley.

You had to admit, you’d had a massive crush on him since you’d first met him when you were younger. Being best friends with Ginny and all, you saw him all the time, but you’d never had the courage to speak to him on your own time. Either way, he’s going into his seventh year. He probably sees you as a child. At least that’s what you’ve told yourself time and time again.

“I never thought I’d see you in a place like this.” He spoke as he approached you. The only response you could muster was a small smile.

“I never thought I’d be in a place like this to be perfectly honest with you.” You shouted over the music. He gave you a knowing smile.

“I’ve been to plenty of these.” He spoke, his shoulders back and his smirk planted on his lips. “Best place to pull pranks. The best place to make bets. the best place to play a little game of truth or dare?” It took you a second of him giving you a questioning eyebrow raise for you to understand he was asking you to join a game of truth or dare. Wanting to seem fearless, you cracked a nervous smile and nodded. “Wicked.” He stated with a devious smirk. You began to wonder if you were going to regret this.

The people who wanted to play truth or dare all sat lazily in a circle on the floor in the upstairs hallway where there were fewer people and the music was more muted. It quickly came to your attention that it was only 7th years. Your throat began to dry out.

“Meagan.” A tall black haired boy spoke, “Truth or dare.” The face of the beautiful girl scrunched up, and you noticed Fred crack a smile out of the corner of your eye. You swallowed your jealousy. It wasn’t fair of you to be jealous. You didn’t have a chance.

“Dare.” She giggled drunkenly. The boy scanned the faces of the circle, landing on Fred. He chuckled to himself before he spoke.

“I dare you to give Freddy a lap dance.” Your face lit up red and your chest burned with anger and sadness. He instantly stood and chuckled, peeling the sweatshirt he wore off his shoulders.

“Let’s see what you got Meggy, girl.” He smirked as she stood, someone, grabbing a rolling chair from a nearby room. Fred took a seat, motioning for her to begin. She started facing away from him, stretching, as though preparing for a workout. She leaned down to touch her toes, bits of her lace panties being exposed from beneath her short shorts. Fred’s back was mostly towards you. You couldn’t see his reactions. When she started taking her shirt off and seductively was your breaking point.

George watched you as you stood, smoothing your hair and the front of your adorable pink skater dress, your eyes wet. You walked away, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater as you did. Once you were out of sight George looked back to Fred. Is it working? he mouthed to his brother.

“I think you just broke the poor girl's heart, Freddy,” George said loud and clear. Meagan hopped off him and looked at her friend sadly.

“I’m sorry Fred. We all thought it would work.” She spoke softly, everyone else in the circle agreeing, trying to make him feel better as he stared that the spot that you had once occupied.

Ginny’s best friend senses must have been going crazy because she burst into the room where you were balling your eyes out of their sockets.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, scrambling across the room to be by your side. “What the hell happened? Hermione told me she just saw you running in here crying!” You had hidden away in the only bedroom that was on the first floor. You knew it wouldn’t be occupied. Too much risk of someone walking in on you and no one would walk in simply due to the fear of walking in on someone. You just shook your head.

“I-I-I j-just want to go ho-o-o-ome-e-e-e” The words came out as sobs, the end of your last word crumbled into a symphony of sobs and hiccups. She nodded. You’d been staying with the Weasley’s for the summer. You weren’t sure if you were glad it would be over soon.

“Just lay down and try to rest the best you can okay? I’m going to try and owl my mum and dad to see if we can go home.” She tucked you under the sheets, dashing out of the room once your sobs had quieted.

There were a few days before you all had to go off to Hogwarts and start your next year of classes. It was late, everyone else had gone up to bed, but your head was filled to the brim with thoughts, and to clean the mind, clean the home. You were elbows deep in sudsy water. Your fingers were pruned and your nails were softened. You had a record on the player, a soft classical piece by Mozart. His composures always calmed you down.

“Do you need some help?” A voice came from the right of you. You gasped loudly, jumping where you stood, the plate you were scrubbing clean plummeted to the bottom of the sink. Fred stood there right beside you. You backed away from him and averted your eyes.

“Oh no I’m okay thank you, there’s no need I like it anyway.” You chuckled awkwardly, your hands dripping on the floor. Though when you realized it was happening you grabbed a dishcloth and dried your arms. “If you’d like to do it, I can go tidy the lounge.” He nodded, rolling up his sleeves and getting to work. You backed away, then turned around quickly and began tidying the lounge, folding knitted blankets and fluffing pillows, tossing a log on the fire because despite the summer weather, the temperature dropped uncomfortably at night. You sat down on the carpet in front of the fire, leaning your back against the bottom of the couch.

“Tea?” You jumped once again as the tall redhead leaned down and handed you a cup of tea. You accepted it hesitantly. He sat beside you, your shoulders touching. It caused you to shudder. “Chilly?” He asked you, all you could do was nod. He wrapped his arm around you and moved closer. This is out of kindness. you told yourself, he would do the same for Ginny. You sipped your tea.

He traced his fingers lightly over your shoulder, through your sweater. You were nearly sure you weren’t supposed to notice.

“You’ve been quite quiet of the late. Has everything been okay?” His voice was soft and brotherly.

“Oh yes. Just ready for school.” You said quickly, then sipped your tea.

“And leave the burrow? No one ever wants to do that.” He swayed you back and forth jokingly. “We’re all family here. And there are no professors.” He winked. You stared into the fire, sipping your tea again.

“I don’t mind it.” You said boldly, placing your tea by your side, resting your head on his shoulder. You hoped it wouldn’t be off-putting, but this was probably the closest you’d ever get to him.

“Are you tired, darling?” He asked you softly, running his hand lightly against the sleeve of your sweater. Once again you knew you weren’t supposed to feel it. You weren’t sure why he was doing it in the first place.

“Well yes, but I’ve not been sleeping well anyway.” You chuckled, “Bad dreams and such.” You peaked up at him from under your eyelashes, and he was looking down at you, concerned.

“What about?” His eyebrows furrowed together. You. You wanted to say, You and Meagan. It rang in your head.

“Oh, you know. This and that.” You shrugged, looking back to the fire.

“Are you okay love? What’s wrong?” He rubbed your arm, as though to warm you up. You sighed, turning to face him, building the will to speak.

“I fancy you.” You spoke softly, looking down at your fingers. He pulled away and came into your line of view.

“Come again?” He looked completely shocked. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened. You cleared your throat and looked him in the eye.

“I fancy you.” You spoke in a more solid tone this time. You tore your eyes away immediately. Suddenly flooded with embarrassment, your cheeks burning red. He stayed silent. “That’s all.” You said softly, standing up, taking your cup of tea with you, and darting to flee up the stairs, where you would lock yourself in the bathroom, wishing you could stay there for ages.

Fred remained frozen as a statue sitting there on the den floor, staring at the space you had just occupied. Dumbfounded and slackjawed, he stayed there for longer than he should have, thinking about what had just happened.

It was the next morning that he told George all about it.

“Well, that’s amazing!” His twin brother exclaimed.

“Not really.” Fred mumbled, his head falling into his hands, “Poor thing seems terrified of me. I should never have tried to make her jealous at that stupid party.” He let out a loud, frustrated groan. “I’m going to go check on her.” He stood from where he was sat, walking out of the room.

“Good luck mate.” His brother called after him.

“Y/N?” He called into the ever-so-slightly- cracked guest room door. No response. “Y/N darling?” His voice was soft, trying not to intimidate her. He held his breath, and pushed the door open, just enough to peak his head in. You were nowhere to be found. He stepped through the threshold, that's when he noticed the light radiating from the bathroom.

Every bone in his body was screaming fiercely at him to turn around and get the hell out of there. Yet his muscles had him moving over to the door.

Articles of your clothing were dispersed along the floor. Your panties.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knelt before the keyhole to the door. He didn’t want to risk peeking through the space that she had left between the door and its threshold. His eyes widened once he realized what he was seeing.

You sat nude on the counter, your legs open, your hand roaming.

His breath caught in his throat. His and twitched to his trousers, pushing them down.

He watched you as your left hand found its way to one of your beautiful breasts. Your head lulled back. Your other hand... it was... pleasing you.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe as your lips parted and his name slipped past them.

He never thought of you as a girl who would do this.

He felt himself... building. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t take it. He reached forward, trying to prepare himself for what was about to transpire. The door flew open and he fell through.

You shrieked, grabbing the nearest towel and covering yourself.

He looked up at you and apologized furiously, trying to put himself away - and failing miserably due to the enlargement of his member.

You watched for a second before you were covered by an eerie calm.

Aware of every move you were making, you let the towel fall, slid off the counter, and approached him.

You looked up at him.

“All these years...” You spoke, “I’ve been saving myself for you.” His face was pure white. “Will you take me now?”

He cracked that trademark Weasley smile, and grabbed your hand, leading you back into the room.

“It would be an honor.”

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nanashi1869 · 6 years

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🌼Flowers for my wounds🌸

(@kondo-hijikata @liuet in case you feel like reading it? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

~Yes, woo what a surprise, a long rant about the Shinsengumi again, how original Nashi. ~

Why thank you, dear reader ;) In all seriousness though, all the previous rants I made were spoiler free and it made me ridiculously furious that I held back all the salt and awe I have in me just for the sake of not spoiling any potential newcomers. I’ve covered some of this in vague posts hundreds of times, but today I will break that habit, I will spoil this to hell and back and enjoy it just as much.

You've been warned.

PS: I’m doing this entirely based on my memory and some snippets I’ve seen one time too many for my own good. Inaccuracies are bound to happen.

As always, what better way to begin than with the infamous episode 33...

I'm kidding, today I'm starting by digging into the post office. As with the usual routine the theme to talk about with this wreck is - guilt. Guilt over losing money in a gamble like a complete fool, guilt over buying a book and being too big of a shit (with rather solid arguments) to admit it, guilt over making rules you can't break even though going through the consequences once was enough to make you regret it for the next few miserable years... (Yes I lied, inadvertently everything comes back to the foolish daffodils). But let's talk about our pure accountant who is one 'i' short of being nothing but cute. Let's talk about the edge they put us on a bit before the main event took place, when the (drama version) of the idiot trio tore that scroll. Never forget that could have been the reason for all our tears, yet in the end it still had to be some more complex scheme. An act with the convict being an innocent man and the true criminal roaming free, while Toshi had all the time in the world to steep in deep, raging self-denial over the legitimacy of his past actions and life choices, all the while ending up the scapegoat to whom all the anger can be directed towards. The subtlety with which we were deceived to think the "actual events" of episode 38 were to play out earlier is truly commendable. But with this drama nothing is ever easy. You get to know a new character, someone moves a chess piece and then instead of moving forward everything takes a step back and lets you seethe with nervousness because, without realizing, you've been tricked and have to wait for all the heartbreak a while longer. Takeda's resolve to keep to his decision, regardless of consequences, was in his eyes, completely justified. It did make sense to try and prevent Kano from buying the book for Ito in order to protect the group from his growing power, the action simply failed due to Toshi's own greed after it. Kawai innocently, perhaps naively, thought lending money more than once would not be punished in hopes his friends would be saved from harm. It is his kindnesses that is ultimately his doom and it is the unexpected, usually harmless twists in life that turn it into a spiral with no point of return. Takeda's following quest for redemption ends up being just as pointless as Kawai’s death - he is killed in an instant of hate directed at him, where the assailants are unaware of his reasoning for the justification of his friend's demise. The book too, loses value as Ito gets his own copy later on.

Most, if not all, tragedies in this drama happen because someone is trying to protect or shield - and idea, a person. Toshi's friends die because he must protect the order of the group for Kat-chan, Yamanami and Akesato have a rift in their final moments because they cannot be honest (likewise Souji and Hide), Kat-chan's relationship with Tsune suffers because he lies about Miyuki, Nagakura and the others write the petition to shield the group from Toshi and Kat-chan's (propensity) ego. The pattern is pretty clear.

I'm going to loop back to the script for just a second - watching this drama knowing what will happens adds a thrill, it makes you question when an event will take place even though you know the chronological sequence, because the “mini-arc” leading up to it has to be completed first and the tension must be just right. How long that is depends on the episode and event of course. But each arc is a stepping stone to a new point of no return.

I think, since I've mentioned him, I'll take a bit to talk about Ito as well. I love, love, love the confrontation Kondo and Ito have right before his death. It's absolutely stunning despite being simplistic in nature, because what Kondo states is in fact the very obvious truth and in no way some overly wise notion of the situation. However, it's that simplicity (to me) that adds to the charm of the scene. If you expected some courageous battle of wits, you might have been sourly disappointment, but otherwise - see the pattern? - what brings people to their knees is once again the basic things in life. Kondo’s sincerity, the fact that life is and always will be (mostly) separated into black and white for them. Farmers and samurai, poor and rich - they fit in a narrow grey zone, yet even there they are bullied, pushed away to leave. It's everything complex they're trying to achieve being haunted by little things. It's the desire and determination to be something big and more buried into the ground by the small things they were raised with, holding them back.

Ah, it’s about time this goo got to the good part.

No, it’s still not episode 33. Firstly because I’m sure everyone is tired of my whining about it and secondly because I like to leave best (in my opinion) for last.

This is for our Gargoyle and Tofu. Just imagine, for a second imagine that final hug again and bathe in it, then come back to me, okay? The wedding rings champagne caps and Toshi’s little grimace when he tries to convince himself ‘it’s not over yet’. (At this point I would just like to praise Mitani again for giving us closure with that hug, unlike some other shows I watch *side eyes knife pile*). I’m really glad the two of them got to hug it out before the whole deal blew up. Everytime a ‘Kat-channn’ or ‘Tossshii’ came around my heart melted a bit. THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD. (I get so, so jealous each time I see well written relationships between two guys. Doesn’t matter if it’s boyfriends/best friends/would-die-for-you combined or only one of these included. (*cough* NIF & Bleach for one *cough*) I don’t even know what to say! We all know Toshi would sacrifice the world for Kat-chan. We all know Kat-chan trusts him above all else. The guilt one feels and the content of the other having come so far together and being such a power combo…*noises*

I don’t even know how to put this.... (@kondo-hijikata help this is your expertise)

I’m going to move on to some more feathery stuff because I’m really at a loss about these two (analysing NIF’s LC/MCS has engraved so deep into me it’s ruined my perception for everyone else, I apologize).

Right, feathers…

I wrote about Serizawa and his issue of not being able to get over his “I’m a bad guy, therefore I must act like it” complex...somewhere before. I can’t find it, but I’m very sure that was once a thing. I know most people hate the man with a burning passion and part of me probably does too, yet the way he is presented also makes him fascinating, like he is very self-aware but cannot change anything about that (this is similar to Toshi’s “indifference” (we all know he actually cares) of his path to become the villain - he knows that what he is doing is morally wrong and has no intention of stopping). I feel like in the end both of them continued with “bad guy” roles simply because they were too far down that road to stop.

I would analyse Serizawa’s character more, but I honestly don’t remember much anymore. I did want to mention this though. Toshi on the other hand…feels like someone who desperately wishes to rage quit everything, but keeps on going out of pure spite.

And since I’m speaking of our beloved vice-commander - one thing that opisses me off is that Kotetsu got mentioned, but the whole wow deal with Kanesada got dropped out, even in the movie. *cue bawling over that Katsugeki finale* I was hoping for that when Tetsu showed up dammit!

Am I tiring you yet? Come, sit down, have some tea Gen-san made because he is totally ok and alive an happy and you cannot convince me otherwise because the hugging thing did not happen. Period.

…

Lastly, because my mind is going blank this is quite long - the bane of my existence and the one thing (to me) more cursed than Ryoma himself. (I’m lying PMK upped this x100000 and I am not over that either. I’ll confess immediately I did not read the whole thing yet but this, this haunts me).

This stupid episode with it’s stupid ending and it’s stupid decisions. *insert me yelling about rice balls on the Mibugishiden review post* I mean what is it with this drama and ending brutally sad episodes with (unintentionally?) funny moments? *cue Toshi’s squeaky crying* I have covered my thoughts about Akesato here and here though and since that essentially recaps everything I want to say, I won’t repeat myself. (Thought you’d have to read through 5 more pages of me screaming? I did too before I forgot what I wanted to say.)

I might make a part 2 someday, if I think of more to say, but for now, I’m done, leaving you with this stressful mess. Feel free to add your own opinions, I’m really curious about what the rest of you think.

~Nashi out~

#taigaqueue #personal #long ass rant just because #this has been a while in the making #I HAVE FEELINGS OKAY

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ofpaintandoil · 6 years

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Paranoia (An excerpt)

Author’s Note: This is an excerpt from a fic I’m currently writing that may or may not ever be published. Idk. Probably not. It’s pretty darn angsty and I’m not completely sure where I’m going with it quite yet. But I thought it might be good to post just a small section of the story in the case I never post the rest of it. So here ya go. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The first time Sasori of the Red Sand appeared to Sakura was the morning after she’d returned from her mission.

She’d woken in a near panic, sensing someone in her room, someone she didn’t trust. Someone whose chakra signal she—quite unfortunately—recognized.

A kunai was in her hand before she was fully awake. In the moment her eyes focused in the residing darkness of the early morning of her bedroom, she saw the red hair.

Red as blood. Red as death. Red as Chiyo bleeding out in the cave. Red as her scalpel in a surgical room.

A part of her knew who it was immediately. The other part of her laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

Ridiculous, because here was the man she’d taken pride in killing. Ridiculous, because that was the only response she could manage at the idea life was so spiteful that it would take this one happiness from her.

In the next second, after she’d come to terms with who exactly was standing in her bedroom, hovering over her bed, Sakura felt rage.

Rage, because he should be dead. Rage, because this meant Chiyo had died for nothing. Rage, because she’d done everything she could during her battle with Sasori of the Red Sand and it all meant nothing.

It took her almost three full seconds of pure rage before she realized Sasori was see-through.

And then Sakura started laughing.

It started in her chest, bubbled up through her esophagus until she was practically kneeled over, holding her head with both hands.

It was the kind of laughter that had it been in front of anyone else, it would have seriously made Sasori nervous to be around her. It was awkward and rough from sleep, and Sakura still had a very sharp kunai in her hand, after all.

Instinct and self-preservation had hauled Sakura from her bed the moment she’d registered it was Sasori in the darkness of her bedroom. The lamplight from the street outside her apartment streamed through the shutters of her window, illuminating Sasori’s hair in a halo of red.

A small voice in her head told her she should be prepared for an attack, for Sasori to take revenge on her for their fight in the cave. What other reason would he break into Konoha and bypass her traps and seals hidden around her apartment while she slept? He should have slit her throat the moment he entered or, baring that, waited until she’d awoken to see it was him, back from the dead, paralyzed from some poison of his or trapped in wire, only to see him carry out his plans for her.

The rest of her said she’d gone insane. Truly, unapologetically mad. Perhaps Itachi had done something to her the day before, had put her in some kind of fucked up genjutsu without her knowing. Kami knew if anyone could pull off something on this kind of scale, it would be the Uchiha mass murderer.

Sakura knew this wasn’t a dream, at least. That was a relief. She was more familiar with her own personal hell of dreams to recognize when she was aware enough to be outside of one. Her personal horrors involved being weak and unsure, not having the sanity of her mind to tell her how to react, the instincts to survive.

But the sanity of her mind was still up for debate, she supposed. Because here was Sasori of the Red Sand—puppeteer, master of poison himself—and he was apparently a ghost.

Or a hallucination. Or an angry spirit come to seek answers. Or something.

Whatever he was or wasn’t, Sakura’s mind was already so tired from the mission the day before, the emotional and mental toll it had taken her to succeed in it, that it had, quite apparently, cracked.

A part of her wasn’t even all that surprised. It really was only a matter of time. Just look at Kakashi. Kami knew that man was loose a few bolt in the right places.

Sasori didn’t look all that amused at her hysteria. In fact, he looked bored. A hint of annoyance, perhaps, but mostly boredom and a sense of deeply ingrained exhaustion.

“Of all places to end up,” Sakura heard Sasori mumble, “I somehow end up in the bedroom of the little girl who killed me. Wonderful.”

He looked around then, blinking empty eyes at his surroundings as if he’d never seen them before she’d woken up and fallen into insanity. He sneered. “Why is there so much pink?”

For whatever reason, his words sent Sakura into another fit of laughter.

Sasori was not amused.

“I’m in hell,” Sasori said much later, after Sakura had been able to reel in her laughter and had instead decided to lean lazily against the wall of her bedroom, twirling the kunai in her hand mindlessly. “I must be in some deviation of the afterlife, and somehow this involves you,” he sneered at her.

Sakura bit her lip, holding back her grin. She took far too much pleasure in the idea she would be the one to haunt him, even in the afterlife.

Sasori was glaring at her, and Sakura resisted the urge to coo at him. It was oddly adorable, how this once nightmare of the shinobi world was standing in her very pink bedroom and, if her instincts held true, for whatever reason he could not touch her. Or at least harm her.

After her laughing fit, Sakura had taken the time to notice Sasori did not, in fact, have any noticeable weapons on him. No scrolls, no kunai, no pouch to hold poisons. Of course, there were other ways to hide weapons, but from how he was dressed in a loose tan tunic and billowing pants, Sakura doubted he was hiding a knife anywhere.

She also noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

This, more than anything else, was what sent another bubble of giggles up her throat, in danger of popping out of her mouth again. She had to bite her bottom lip to hold the urge in.

Sasori’s left eyebrow twitched. Whatever expression Sakura was making, he was not amused.

“So . . . ,” Sakura finally began to ask, “a ghost, huh?”

And then she started giggling again. This was just too good to be true.

“And—” she continued, taking gasping breaths in between her words, “—you can’t touch me? Can’t get any revenge? Can’t wreak havoc on the mass population? Can’t even scratch your own—”

“Enough.”

“Why?” she taunted. “You can’t make me. And, Kami, that must just be a punch to the gut, huh? Can’t appease your giant ego and the need to be superior to the grand population,” —particularly a certain petite pink haired kunoichi who’d certainly been a thorn in his side— “right? What was it you’d called me in the cave that day?”

Sakura twiddled the kunai in her hand, balancing and passing it from finger to finger in her right hand as she tapped her chin in a thinking manner with her right pointer finger. “Oh, that’s right! A ‘little girl,’ I believe you called me. Repeatedly.” She couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of her voice at the memory.

Sasori was very, very still. Sakura thought she saw his jaw tick.

“Funny,” Sakura continued, her voice dropping lower and lowering her lashes, watching him. The ends of her lips tilted up, “how you’ve been sent to haunt me, and yet it must haunt you that your eternal life—eternal art—was ended so easily.”

Not true. Nothing about that day in the cave had been easy, but like hell would Sakura let Sasori—or at least this apparition of Sasori—believe otherwise.

As if reading her thoughts, Sasori simply said, his voice strained and tense, “The scar on your abdomen would say otherwise, doll-face.”

Sakura licked her lips, grinning at him. Sasori’s hand twitched towards his waist, where a kunai pouch would have been had he had one.

“Oh,” she purred, “don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

She could never forget that. Not the angry line taking residence across a good portion of her stomach. Not the way she’d been unable to heal it completely, and how when Tsunade had offered to heal the scar for her, Sakura had refused.

She wanted to take something away from that day in the cave, wanted to go to her own grave with the proof of her victory against the monster of Suna.

When she’d told her mentor that, Tsunade had smiled a small, secretive smile.

#fanfiction #SakuraxSasori #an excerpt from a fic I'm writing #may or may not ever be published in full #possible SasorixSakuraxItachi in the future #much angst #ghost Sasori #don't judge #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#oneshot #Naruto universe #probably won't ever be published in full

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