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marmorafarms · 1 month

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My King

Pairing: Labru (Laios/Kabru)

Rating: Mature for sexual situations

Summary: Laios is concerned about potentially getting married, as he has no idea how to even kiss! Maybe Kabru will be willing to teach him a thing or two. Fic is a gift for @wasabi-gumdrop

A/N: The name "Modern Standard Elvish" is a play on "Modern Standard Arabic." The difference between "hot" and "horny" is in reference to the Spanish word caliente. Also, Kabru is trans in this fic!

You can find the fic on ao3 or read below!

___

Night was falling, but Kabru was still awake, pouring over the latest letters sent from the Elves. As he was fluent in Elvish, Kabru was able to read through the letters and translate them for Laios to read. Marcille had offered to help, but unfortunately she knew Modern Standard Elvish and wasn’t familiar with regional sayings and phrases.

“But it’s all the same language!” Marcille had burst out as Kabru tried to explain the differences between the regions.

“True,” Kabru said, “But differences arise, and different slang and turns of phrases come about. And you almost made a horrible mistake, Marcille.”

“How was I supposed to know that this is slang for ‘horny’ where the Queen lives?” Marcille said, frustrated. “I was taught it means ‘hot’ like temperature!”

“And it does,” Kabru said calmly, “But in this region, it’s more commonly used as slang for horny. There’s a different word they use for hot.”

Marcille had left the translations and letter writing to Kabru ever since then. So here he was, nose deep in his work, laser focused on his task. So when the door slammed open, Kabru jumped a mile into the air. He whipped around to see who had caused the disruption, fully ready to snap at whoever it was. But when he saw who it was, his anger melted away and turned into concern.

In his doorway stood Laios, his cloak lopsided and eyes wide with panic. He was breathing heavily, highly alarming Kabru. Was he drunk? No, that’s not how drunk people acted. Did Fleki leave her drugs here? Had he thought they were regular mushrooms? No, she usually passed out when she got high. So what was going on?

“Kabru!” Laios finally said, and stood up straight. “I need help!”

“With what?” Kabru asked. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Laios grumbled. “I’m not.”

There was something about his tone though. He didn’t sound as though something was truly wrong. He sounded like a child being told they needed to do a task that they really didn’t want to do. What was Laios trying to get out of this time?

“What’s going on?”

“Yaad says I have to get married,” Laios said frantically. “He said that it’s important that I have a queen.”

A flicker of annoyance sparked in Kabru’s chest, but he did his best to ignore it. “And what’s the issue?”

“What’s the—Kabru! You know I don’t want to get married!” Laios said. “We’ve been over this!”

Laios wasn’t lying, the discussion of him potentially getting married had been brought up more than once. Laios had shot the idea down each and every time. He had been engaged once before and wasn’t interested in doing that again.

“It’s just not for me,” Laios had said, so everyone had sighed and decided to leave it be. But it seemed as though Yaad was really putting the pressure on this time.

“You never said why don’t want to get married,” Kabru said. “There are plenty of women out there who would be great candidates. Wasn’t Marcille your succubus once?”

Laios turned bright red. “Don’t bring that up!” he said, looking away from Kabru. “I told you that in confidence, nobody else can know!”

“And they won’t,” Kabru said. “I just think that it’s interesting that no woman seems good enough. Is it maybe that no woman is good enough? That maybe you’d rather someone else?”

Laios blinked in confusion. “What?” he asked, and Kabru’s lips twitched in amusement. Laios was always a bit slow on the uptake.

“Do you want a man?” Kabru asked.

“Oh!” Laios said, and for some reason looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Um, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never thought about that before. Is that allowed?”

“You’re the king,” Kabru pointed out, “You can decide. And you can also decide to tell Yaad that you don’t want to get married.”

“It’s not that easy!” Laios said, and began pacing the floor. “The way he seems so…so terrified when he thinks about the future of the kingdom! He really seems to think I need to get married, and it’s just so hard to say no!”

“You know,” Kabru said slowly, “You should really tell me why you don’t want to get married. What’s the real reason?” Laios stopped pacing and turned to look at Kabru, his face suddenly bright.

“Yes!” he said in a weirdly cheery voice. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you!”

“Oh?” Kabru asked. Laios nodded.

“You see, Yaad keeps talking about babies. And well…I wouldn’t really know where to begin with making one. I mean, I know how, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve never even kissed anyone!”

“I. You. Wait hold on,” Kabru said, pinching the bridge of his nose,

“You want me to give you sex lessons?”

“Well I mean you’ve been with a ton of girls,” Laios said. “I thought you’d be the right! I thought about waiting and writing to Chilchuck but that would take way too long! Will you tell me what to do?”

“Laios,” Kabru said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I can tell you how to kiss someone and how to make them feel good in bed, but it’s something you have to just…do.”

“Oh,” Laios said, face falling. “So you can’t teach me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Kabru said, heart beating fast.

Laios cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, and Kabru cleared his throat. “I could show you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kabru wanted to snatch them up and shove them back down his throat. There was absolutely no way he could do this! He couldn’t just…just fuck Laios! Not only was he his friend, he was the king! This was twelve kinds of not okay, and yet…here he was. Offering.

“You want to…?” Laios started, and Kabru quickly cut across him.

“Only if you want to, and it would just be kissing,” he said. “Practice makes perfect, right? And you’ve got to learn the basics. With most people, they start of with just kissing. So…that’s where we’ll start,”

Kabru said, and stood up from his chair. “Now. Do you want to?”

Laios stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Sure,” he said, and Kabru frowned.

“That’s not what I’m looking for Laios,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves. He walked over to Laios and put his hand on large expanse of his chest. “Tell me, do you want this? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Laios said in a breathy tone, and Kabru nodded.

“Let’s go to your room,” he said, “People probably won’t interrupt us there, you’re the king after all.”

“Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, and Kabru shook his head. Of course he hadn’t. Had he really expected Kabru to rail him in the study?

But they weren’t doing that, Kabru reminded himself. It was kissing, and only kissing. They weren’t going to go further, no.

At first the two walked slowly down the hall, trying to be cool and casual. But it didn’t take long before they were walking at a brisk pace, practically racing each other to Laios’ room.

Kabru had wanted this for a while, and everyone in the castle knew. Everyone except Laios, that is. According to Marcille, his feelings were extremely obvious, and Kabru hated that. He was usually so good at keeping a facade. At first he had brushed Marcille off, but it was Falin who really made him realize that yes, his feelings were obvious.

“Why do you keep looking at my brother with sad cow eyes?” she had asked one day.

“With what?” Kabru asked, throughly confused.

“Our cows back home used to have this look on their eyes…kind of sad almost…big beautiful eyes just staring at you. When you look at my brother, you look like them. Your eyes get all big and…sad? No…not sad. I’m not really sure. It’s just odd, that’s all,” Falin had said with a shrug, and Kabru was frozen in his tracks.

So yes, Kabru was excited for this moment. But was Laios really okay with it? He had said he was but Kabru still had his doubts. He would need to make absolutely sure. They entered the room, and walked towards the opulent four poster bed, and sat down on it. Laios was loose and casual, and Kabru couldn’t understand it. Shouldn’t he be nervous?

“So what do we do?” Laios asked.

“Well first take the cloak off,” Kabru said, and Laios complied. It was big and bulky and would just get in the way. He gulped as he looked down and Laios’ chest. The bigger man had bulked up a bit since they first met. He worked hard to maintain his original physique, but he still had decent meat on his bones. Laios’ shirt could barely contain his barrel chest, the buttons fighting to stay closed. Kabru would have to put in an order for the tailor to come and refit him for clothing.

“Okay, so…it might be easier if I start, okay? And then you can kiss me back,” Kabru said, voice shaking. Laios nodded, and Kabru slid over.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, cupping Laios’ cheek softly. His friend complied, his lashes like beautiful dark fans as they fluttered shut. He looked so trusting, and Kabru couldn’t help but wonder if this was really okay. But he couldn’t keep Laios waiting…

Kabru leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against Laios’. But something was off.

“You’re too stiff,” Kabru said. “When my lips touch yours, press yours against mine.” Laios nodded, and Kabru tried again. This time, Laios kissed back and oh. Kabru didn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting such tenderness, such care. He expected awkward fumbling, perhaps Laios trying to use his tongue and being clumsy about it. The soft sound of lips on lips filled the air, and finally Kabru broke away.

“Now your turn,” Kabru said. Laios frowned, his cheeks pink.

“My turn?”

“You kiss me,” Kabru said, but Laios’ frown only deepened.

“I thought I was?” he said, and Kabru laughed lightly.

“No, I mean you start,” he clarified. “Show me how you’d kiss your queen.”

Laios nodded, but this time it wasn’t soft and gentle. It was like a match being lit, flame bursting before them. Laios sometimes took a second to pick up on things, but when he did, he threw himself into it. And he really was throwing himself into it. Their kisses grew deeper, more needy. They were desperate kisses, and Laios was kissing Kabru like he’d never get to kiss anyone ever again.

“Was that okay?” Laios said, breaking away. Kabru wanted to pull him back in, and kiss him more and tell him to never stop.

“More than okay,” Kabru said hoarsely, and Laios beamed at him. “But I got more to teach you. There’s another thing…kind of a kiss…it’s called a hickey.”

“I know what a hickey is,” Laios said. “You just suck and bite a little, right?”

“Yeah. Do you want one? Do you want to see how your queen will feel when you give her one?”

Laios nodded, and Kabru felt a little bad. He was indulging himself in his desires, but fuck did Laios seem to be enjoying it. Kabru pushed Laios down on the bed, crawling on top of him. And oh wow, Laios definitely was enjoying himself, because Kabru could feel his friend’s bulge pressing against him. Pure lust began to pool in between Kabru’s legs, and he tried to calm himself. They weren’t going to go all the way. Just kissing, that’s it.

But as Kabru began to kiss and nip at Laios’ lips, he found his hips instictively grinding downwards. A deep groan issued from Laios’ throat, and Kabru swore.

“Is something wrong?” Laios asked.

“You’re just…you’re so hot,” Kabru said, and began kissing at Laios’ jaw. “You’re so hot, so sexy. You’re gonna make someone very happy, my king.”

At those words, Laios let out a whimper, and Kabru internally raised a brow. Did Laios like being called that? He peppered Laios’ neck with kisses, continuing to grind down against Laios’ clothed cock. Finally, he moved down to Laios’ collarbone, and bit him gently before sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Laios shouted, and Kabru released him. But as he did, he realized something. Laios didn’t feel as hard anymore. And then it clicked.

“Did you just…?”

“I’m sorry!” Laios said, covering his face with his hands, bright red. Kabru sat up, a small smile on his face.

“Hey. You don’t have to hide.”

Laios peeked at Kabru from in between his fingers and gulped. “I shouldn’t have…you know…just from that,” he whispered. “Isn’t it bad? To be so fast?”

“Maybe we can try that again,” Kabru said, voice deep and dripping with honey. “We can get your stamina up. With lots and lots of practice.”

Laios laughed, and pulled Kabru back down. They nuzzled noses and began to kiss again. Kabru knew this couldn’t last. But for now, he’d indulge himself. For now, he’d allow himself to be happy.

#labru #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #kabru #laios

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skelingtonsderek · 1 month

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AO3 Tag Game

I was tagged by Cici. Thanks CICI!! @magically-with-magic

How many works do you have on ao3? 93

What’s your total ao3 word count? 1,084,555

What fandoms do you write for? Currently and mostly Justified. Here is the breakdown Justified (47) Teen Wolf (TV) (29) Original Work (4) Sherlock (TV) (3) Grimm (TV) (3) James Bond (Craig Movies) (2) Torchwood (1) Doctor Who (1) Fullmetal Alchemist (1) The Walking Dead (TV) (1)

Top five fics by kudos? What Did You Expect With A Mouth Like That? - Teen Wolf - Stiles/Everyone - Kudos: 1,944 When You Are No Longer Usefull - Teen Wolf - Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski; Chris Argent/Original Male Character(s); Allison Argent/Scott McCallAllison Argent & Stiles Stilinski - Kudos: 780 The Hard Part - Teen Wolf - Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski - Kudos: 635 We Have Worn Out The Meaning Of Our Clothes - Teen Wolf - Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski - Kudos: 590 Every Nickname Has A Reason - Teen Wolf - Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski - Kudos: 479 But I’m not gonna count it cause it’s part of the Apparel Series that We Have Worn Out The Meaning Og Our Clothes is the first of. The Killing Type - Teen Wolf - Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski - Kudos: 464

Do you respond to comments? Yes. Every time if I can help it. Maybe not immediately but as soon as I can.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Could Use Some - Justified - Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens - character death Most of the time I write, if not happy, then hopeful endings. I’ve got a tons where someone or multiple people die but this is the only one where it’s misery from start to finish.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The one I personally feel the happiest/most hopeful at the end of? Same as the one I receive the most thank you notes for having written when people finish it. TT_TT TW fans are soooo sweet (to me) (personally) (as long as I don’t write Sterek breakup fic again) Rinse Cycle The one the characters themselves are the happiest at the end of? Happy Campers. Sorry folks I don’t make the rules. Just cause they’re insane serial killers doesn’t mean they aren’t really happy to be where they’re at.

Do you get hate on fics? The closest I’ve gotten was Sterek shippers being upset that Sterek wasn’t endgame even though I TAGGED IT THOROUGHLY that it was not Sterek endgame and warned repeatedly that it wouldn’t be nice to Sterek.

Do you write smut? Haha. Yeah.

Craziest crossover? I’ve not technically written any crossovers

Have you ever had a fic stolen? There was an issue a really long time ago of some website reposting my stuff without permission and claiming it as original work but I’ve never seen someone in any fandom take my stuff. Don’t really get why they would. You’re not exactly going to rise to meteoric fame with it. I was, for a while, making it a hobby of dropping fic of people’s favorite pairing into their inbox anonomously as a gift that I explicitly said they could claim as their own if they wanted but that was a separate thing.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I’ve had people ask if they could but I’ve not seen if they did.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not in-fandom but I have done collaborative short stories with friends and such before. Or popcorn stories. Writing with friends is fun and great actually.

All time favorite ship? I’m a multishipper but I can tell you the ones that I think are really fun in a couple of fandoms I enjoy. Teen Wolf: Chris Argent/Stiles (as you can see from the above list of pop fic) Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whitmore; Lydia Marten/Allison Argent ; Scott McCall/Allison Argent ; Scott McCall/Erica Reyes ; Erica Reyes/Vernon Boyd ; Scott McCall/Erica Reyes/Allison Argent ; Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall ; Lydia Marten/Stiles Stilinski ; Derek Hale/antidepressants Grimm: Monroe/Nick Burkhardt ; Nick/Monroe/Rosalee/Juliet/Hank/Adalind ; Nick Burkhardt/Adalind Shade ; Hank Griffin/Juliet Silverton ; Eve/Eve Justified: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens ; Raylan Givens/Tim Gutterson ; Frances Givens/Mags Bennett ; Dickie Bennett/Dewey Crowe ; Raylan Givens/Ava Crowder ; Raylan Givens/Ava Crowder/ Boyd Crowder

Leverage: Parker/Hardison/Elliot Star Trek: Spirk. Longer list than I intended… whoops.

What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Look. I came back and finished a fic after a six year hiatus where I wrote literally nothing at all. Maybe it’s not now. Maybe it’s not ten years from now. But so long as I have air in my lungs, I’ll come back eventually.

What are your writing strengths? I was gonna make a joke about “volume” but I think Willow might hunt me down if I said something disparaging here so I would say I pride myself on making the blocking and sequence of action easy to follow (unless the point is that you’re not supposed to be able to follow it). I like to make it so action can be traced and that if something is picked up, it’s put down, you know?

What are your writing weaknesses? I am literally incapable of picking just one description. If a run on sentence could be a person, it’s fucking me unkindly.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Do your best. Try to be respectful. Everyone fucks up but that doesn’t mean trying should be off the table. Take feedback gracefully about it.

First fandom you wrote in? Hhhhhh I think Sherlock was the first?

Favorite fic you’ve written? I'm not sure I have any favorites. I will say that I am so unaccountably pleased by how One More Sweet Boy To Be Butchered By Men came out that I get stage fright when I go to work on the sequel.

Zero pressure, only if you want to tags: @willowmckinley @gaylanrivens @norgbelulah @im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons

#unhinged monster journals publicly #archive of our skelingtons #fanfic #ao3 #stupidly beautiful people doing beautifully stupid things #fx justified #justified on fx #justie2justie communication #mtv teen wolf #teen wolf #tag games #thanks Cici!!!!!

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gonzo-rella · 2 years

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Your Hero | Izzy Hands

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Trans!Izzy Hands x gn!reader (implied romantic)

Summary: Even after decades of living as a man, Izzy still experiences gender euphoria.

Warnings: Canon-typical, darkly comical violence (blood, stabbing and all that lovely stuff), possible playing into gender stereotypes. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.5k

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a transmasculine person (I’m an AFAB agender person), so apologies if this feels like an inaccurate portrayal of the transmasculine experience. Please feel free to let me know if there are any issues with this so I can learn from it!

(A/N: I adore the headcanon of trans Izzy, so much so that I wanted to write something where Izzy is explicitly trans. I’d love to explore the concept beyond this ficlet (I might even end up writing a non-reader-insert AO3 fic if the inspiration hits me). I’d like to think that in everything that I write that Izzy can be read as trans, even if it’s not made apparent in the fic. Feel free to/ pretty please request more trans Izzy stuff (or trans anyone stuff). That author’s note sure said ‘trans’ a lot.)

“Ah. Shit.”

A crewmember of the ship you were raiding smirked as he knocked the sword out of your hand. If you crouched down to retrieve it, he’d strike then. If you tried to leg it... well, he’d probably still stab you.

Unfortunately, you did the worst thing you could have possibly done in that moment: you froze. In what you believed would be your final moments, you tried to convince yourself that you’d had a good run (the key word being ‘tried’). Who were you kidding? It’d all been relatively shit until recently, and now everything was about to come to a tragic, bloody end.

Izzy watched you from afar, somehow managing to take down another enemy crewmember while only half-paying attention to what he was doing.

You were so caught up in your anticipation of death that you didn’t notice him approaching the guy from behind. It was only when your foe collapsed to his knees, clutching his midsection, that you realised he had been skewered by Izzy’s sword. In fact, you hadn’t noticed how everything was dying down around you. It was beginning to look like you would live to see another day.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips and a grin spread across your face. You watched as Izzy extracted the blade from the man, and he finally met your gaze. He looked more concerned than usual, and you were quite surprised that he hadn’t already begun his tirade, criticising you for your ineptitude in wielding a sword. But, you weren’t in the right mind to care.

Almost skewering yourself on his sword, you leapt over the dying man and wrapped your arms around Izzy’s neck, pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek. His hands fell limp at his sides.

“Thank you so fucking much, Iz.” you whispered, barely able to speak. “You’re my hero.”

In a very Izzy fashion, he didn’t hug you back. But, he didn’t shove you off and scoff at you like you expected him to. Once again, you were too overjoyed about your survival to question it.

Little did you know, he was just as grateful for your words as you were for the swift rescue. His heart fluttered while his mind became fixed on you, on this. He supposed this malfunction was responsible for him being unable to move, standing stiffly in your arms. Izzy wasn’t one for happiness, and he was barely one for contentment, but that moment caused a familiar warmth to spread throughout his body. It was a kind of warmth that used to feel like a blaze when he was younger, when he was less used to being seen and treated as a man.

‘Your hero’. That’s how you saw him: strong, brave, capable. And, it made his heart swell with pride. Of course, he knew anyone who wasn’t a man could be all of those things; Jim was a great example of that. And, perhaps you’d be saying this to him if he were a woman. But, he didn’t care. It was the kind of declaration he had always associated with an unattainable masculinity, and this was the kind of moment he could have only dreamed of back when no one would take him seriously as a boy, let alone a man.

He swallowed thickly, doing his best to stifle the smile that was so eager to grace his lips.

“D-don’t mention it.”

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #trans izzy hands #trans #trans man #trans male #transgender #transgender man #transgender male #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #x reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader

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a-land-lacking-sleep · 1 year

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Submas/PLA Fic: Red Sky, Heated Tensions

A take on Ingo and how the red sky in Pokemon Legends Arceus effected him.

Summary: The sky has turned red. Paranoia runs deep, and fear boils inside everyone. From Ingo's point of view, it's a sad turn of events, but for others, their anger gets the better of them. Word Count: 2137

Read here, or on AO3! I’ll be cross posting this and my other fic (once I write it instead of outlining it) here and there!

The first thing that Ingo saw was the red sky. He knew that mornings weren’t this vibrant, even when he would wake up at the crack of dawn as his internal clock suggested, but this went beyond that. The sky behind the clouds glew an eerie green, while the clouds bled out from the space-time rift, and as he exited the house Kamado had supplied him for the days he worked the Training Grounds, he could see other citizens of Jubilife begin to filter out and look into the sky.

He began his normal walk down Canala Avenue, tipping his hat slightly at people, hearing them talk amongst themselves. “I thought the Survey Girl cleared up the issues with the Nobles?” he could hear Shinon asking as he passed. “You think she isn’t the cause?” Another villager that Ingo didn’t quite recognize responded with barely contained venom in his voice. A quick look from Ingo caused the man to freeze and look away.

‘So they’re already looking to blame Miss Akari, Ingo thought to himself as he rounded the housing to head to the Training Grounds. Zisu met him there, stretching and cracking her back before waving to him with a strained smile on her face. It seems even a strong woman like her was shaken by the strange happenings.

“Good Morning, Miss Zisu,” Ingo called out as he approached, tilting his hat up to force himself to make eye contact. “I see you found your way to the station safely today again.”

“Yeah, about as good as we can this morning,” she says with a sigh as she hands Ingo a cup of hot tea, which he accepted with a nod. “It apparently happened over night, and it has the Commander all in a huff. No one seems to be in direct danger, though everyone is worried anyway.”

Ingo nods, turning his eyes to the sky, then looking down Floaro Main Street at the Galaxy Building. He could see Irida and Adaman going inside, talking to each other, and Akari running up the street to the building. It seems that the major players had taken notice, and they were rushing to figure out answers. Satisfied, Ingo walked into the Training Grounds building to prepare for the day.

---

When he stepped outside 30 minutes later, Ingo wasn’t expecting to see Akari being led out of the Galaxy Building by Cyllene, with Kamado standing firmly at the steps. It seems many of the civilians had gathered outside of the shops on Floaro, and were watching as Cyllene led Akari to the gates. This… This isn’t how this should’ve gone. Kamado was supposed to be more collected than this, how is he letting this happen?

Stepping forward, Ingo falls in line next to Zisu. “Does Miss Akari have a destination, or is Kamado sending her down a track without proper safety checks?” He made sure to project his voice enough for it to carry down the street, startling not just Zisu, but grabbing the attention of Anvin and Simona as well. The two farther away gave him pained looks, like they were unsure of how to feel about the current situation, while Zisu decided to fill him in.

“Kamado… Kamado believes Akari is at fault,” Zisu says coldly. “I’m not sure of it myself, and having known him for a few years, I believe it may be his paranoia going into overdrive with everything coming down so fast.” She actually scowls, the first time Ingo has seen her without a smile on her face. Is that what he looked like right now, teeth bared and brow furrowed so heavily that he could’ve been cut from stone? “He said, if she can fix it, it would be forgiven.”

Of course. Cut her off from everyone she could depend on, accuse her of causing this, but rely on her to do it anyway. Kamado was truly letting his fears take over, and while Ingo could understand, it did not make him feel any happier. Especially as he watches Akari leave through the gate, and Kamado turn to approach the Training Grounds. As the only other person who appeared without warning, it would make sense that Ingo would be suspect as well.

He hoped his face wasn’t showing the anger he felt, or mimicking the scowl he’d seen on Zisu.

“Hello, Kamado,” he called out once the commander was in earshot, his voice once again projecting down the thoroughfare. If he was going to be raked over the coals, he might as well fire up his own engine in preparation. “I hear you have a plan to deal with the sky we’ve found ourselves under today.”

Kamado scoffs as he approaches the pair, his moustache twitching at the expulsion of air. “Don’t think yourself free of suspicion, Warden,” he says, his voice lowered in an angry tone. “We can’t rule out that you have something to do with the appearance of the rifts either.” Kamado’s face wasn’t filled with hate, which relieved Ingo. It was legitimately just fear motivating this man then. Fear of the unknown coming in and wiping clean the life he had fought for and built for himself and so many others.

But this fear was also a bane. A young girl who had done so much for the village, for the people who lived here. A girl who was lost, and looked for help herself, and found a purpose. A girl now thrown into the wilderness as thanks for the work she’s done. And now the distrust of an ally, one with protection, which could tear apart Kamado’s whole world.

“So, what do you propose, sir?” Ingo asks calmly, his voice only dropping slightly in volume. Normally, Ingo tried to keep his volume manageable, but he didn’t care now. He was beginning to get angry with Kamado, and if the commander came metaphorically swinging at him, he would ensure there was a crowd. Especially as he saw Adaman and Irida walk out of the building, Irida obviously fuming and looking around for her target.

“To have you pulled in for interrogation,” Kamado says gruffly. “If you try to resist, you will be imprisoned, and likely charged. Hopefully it won’t come to that, Warden. You have been a great help in training our recruits.” The last part felt genuine, at least.

Nonetheless, Ingo brings his left hand up to his cap, and swings his right hand across his hips and out to the side twice, signaling Irida to Stop, which she thankfully reads. He had trained his Pokemon with hand signals, and Irida had been there for part of the training and picked up on it for general use in exploration. Ingo… Didn’t quite know where he knew the hand signals, and felt like he was missing a component that would help the visibility of the signals.

Kamado glanced at the motion, but before he could say anything Ingo spoke up. “I will gladly answer any questions you have here, Kamado,” he starts, his voice flat and polite as it carries down the road. “But I will not go anywhere with you. Despite working to train your Security Corps., I am still a member of the Pearl Clan, as you’ve been stating this entire time. You have no right to change my scheduled route, or put a new terminus on my tracks.”

“You don’t understand, Warden,” Kamado growls in annoyance, his mouth now appearing under his moustache in a scowl. “You have no say in this matter. So long as you are in my town, you will comply with my commands. Now, please, come with me before I need to use force.” That last sentence held enough force for Ingo.

Judging by the twitch in Kamado’s face, Ingo must’ve scowled, he wasn’t entirely sure. “Be careful, Kamado. Some Pokemon are quick to defend their masters, even if it means breaking their locks.” To prove his point, Gliscor’s ball audibly rattled on his left hip, grabbing Kamado’s attention for a moment of fear. With his free right hand, Ingo pumps up and down twice, then sticks his arm out straight before lowering it. Proceed, and Reduce Speed. Irida and Adaman began their approach, passing by Beni, who only could give them a glare.

“So, it is by force then,” Kamado says, his eye lingering on Gliscor’s ball, even after it stilled. After the slightest hesitation, he turns to Zisu, still standing next to Ingo. “Go grab a pair of shackles from your office. Warden Ingo is hereby under arre-”

“Kamado, you dare to break our treaty?!” Irida’s shout tore Kamado’s order as she came upon the man. As he turned around, her open palm met his cheek, turning his head towards the Galaxy Building. From afar, Ingo couldn’t get a read on her, but up close he could see the rage in her eyes.

“Akari was one of yours! We tried to vouch for her, but we relinquished the right to decide on her fate to you in accordance with our agreement,” she continues, using the moment of shock from the slap to cut Kamado off completely. Ingo couldn’t get a good look at his face, but judging by his stance, he wasn’t about to get aggressive with his Leader. “Ingo is my Warden, and according to the treaty that you signed, you cannot arrest one of my people, especially someone so important, without first consulting me or a Warden!”

Adaman places a hand on her shoulder, a mixed look of disappointment and disgust on his own face. “I have to back her up on this, Kamado. The three of us agreed we would aid each other, but outside of a violent crime like murder, we would not punish a member from your village or another’s Clan. That was your call.” He then gave Zisu a look, and Zisu took a step away from Ingo.

“When we made those treaties, we didn’t have this situation,” Kamado states once given the chance, anger lacing his voice. “We had no knowledge of the Rift, but we know that Akari came from it, and your Warden most likely did as well. He needs to be contained until we know he is unconnected to this current disaster. I’m telling you, this is an emergency that requires bending the treaties slightly.”

“And I’m telling you, if you so much as touch my Warden, you will be breaking the treaty, and declaring war,” came Irida’s simple reply.

Her words seemed to kill all the noise in Jubilife as they reached everyone. Kamado and Zisu both froze instantly. Ingo felt the temperature of his body drop, and he’s sure he shared Anvin’s expression of shock. Beni had been approaching, and paused mid-stride, disbelief in his eyes. The only one unaffected by her declaration was Adaman, who stepped forward to stand next to his fellow Clan Leader.

“You’ve seen what war can do, Kamado,” Irida says coldly. “Adaman and I have done all that we can to prevent war from ever touching the lands of Hisui again. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t prepared for it. We have people who remember the bloodied past of this land, and they remember one thing above all. When it came to war, we would win. The Pearl Clan would fight, and tear, and burn, and win.”

“He gets the point, Irida,” Adaman says, quickly cutting her off. “There’s no need to scare him into actually starting a fight.”

After a few moments of Irida looking him dead in the eye, Kamado brings his hand up to cough into, clearing his throat. It took another moment before he found the voice to talk. “We do not need that, Lady Irida. I will not do anything to Warden Ingo.” Ingo took this chance to step around Kamado to join Irida, standing behind her left shoulder. Kamado tracked his movement the entire way, and Ingo noticed that Beni had as well. “He is free to go, and I believe until this matter with the sky is resolved and we can have further talks, his contract with the Galaxy Team is suspended.”

“Good,” Irida says with a hint of anger and a hint of victory. “I’ll let Ingo decide on if he wishes to return when the time comes.” With that, she turns and begins to walk. “Come on, Ingo. We’re leaving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Looking to Adaman, Ingo nods, then points his right hand forward, and his left out to the side pointing at the ground. “Remember to stay behind the yellow line. ALL ABOARD!”

---

As the trio walked into the Obsidian Fieldlands, both Adaman and Irida deflated slightly.

“Never do anything like that again, Irida,” Adaman wheezed out as the adrenaline left his system. “For a moment I thought he would banish us, and call your bluff.”

“He’s too much of a coward,” Irida says, trying to keep her composure somewhat. “Honestly, it all started coming out before I could contain it. His attitude, the way he disrespected people who trusted and was working with. It was disgusting, and it infuriated me!”

“I’m glad you had a better read on him than I did, because I thought he was too angry to listen to reason,” Adaman says with a shaky laugh as he straightens back up. “I thought you were too angry, too.”

“So you were actually going to back me up?” Irida asks with a smile, softening for a moment. “That’s reassuring, thank you.”

Ingo keeps walking a bit, giving the conversation some space as he tries to collect his thoughts. His chance to regain his memories in Jubilife is likely gone now. Gripping the brim of his hat tighter, he looks up at the sky. Sickly green, bruised by red clouds. Like the morning before a deadly storm.

‘Best of luck, Miss Akari. I’ll make sure to conduct my Ladies to you.’

#pokemon legends arceus #pokemon ingo #pokemon irida #pokemon adaman #pokemon kamado #submas #the trains have eaten me #my writing #I remember seeing someone mention that irida would be so angry if kamado tried to threaten ingo and I had to write #I haven't written in so long and then I cranked this out in a day #pokemon legends arceus spoilers #I almost forgot that tag lul #this was great practice for the bigger fic #I need to finish outlining the last few chapters and get started on it while I have free time #submas fic

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mochidreambubble · 1 year

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Just as if we’re Strangers on a Train

Written for OC x Canon week organised by @theocxcanonweek

Day 6 Prompt:

Touching Foreheads / Sci-Fi AU / “Can you stay? Please…”

Baxter/MC OC fic. Ao3 link here.

“He could laugh. Right now, he wasn’t expected to stay in character. The childhood sweetheart, that wasn’t him. But at this moment, as “Theodore”, wouldn’t it be alright to indulge, even just a little…”

[Of course, it wouldn't be me if I didn't take this as an excuse to write for Our Life www

The title is like, a sort of reference to the whole b/w era of romance movies that always have lovers meet on trains or train stations. I mean, iconic and all so…

Please also don’t think too hard of the “play murder” in this. I’m not very smart and I’m not even going to pretend there is a mystery to solve here lol.

Takes place a little before Baxter Step 4 but is not meant to fit into any canonicity, I really wrote this cause the idea just came to me.]

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He finds himself freezing up, mouth agape. The couple he’s been hired by is no doubt wondering what the issue is, being silent for longer than a few seconds. Though, maybe they think it’s just him being in character, seeing as how the young woman standing right in front of him is matching him in shock.

There’s a sudden exclamation of shock, from someone Baxter recognises as one of the game masters from the start of this whole event, now costumed up. “Oh my, young lady! Isn’t that the boy from the picture you showed me earlier? Your childhood friend? What a coincidence!”

The shock was slowly draining from the young woman in front of you, a smile now taut and forced plastered on. “Yes, what a crazy coincidence. But it’s been so long that we may as well be strangers,” she steps closer and extends her hand, though in a way that seems like a private parody to Baxter and Baxter alone, echoing his long-forgotten introduction to her. But this wasn’t the tourist beach town of Sunset Bird, but a live-action-themed mystery game with everyone on it stuck on a moving train for the whole duration of the event. “I may as well reintroduce myself. Perhaps I’ve been forgotten after all this time, after all. Nice to meet you, Theodore. I’m Rosalind.”

How could he ever forget her face? Not when her tearful expression was forever seared into his mind. “Oh, Rosa,” His character card for Theodore had mentioned that he too, could never forget his childhood sweetheart. “Of course not! It’s been too long.”

He shakes her hand, trying to maintain his poker face. He’s basically on a job after all. This damn, blasted job.

The couple he had been hired by wanted a themed wedding, see? But a very specific themed wedding, based on the series of mystery live-action games. It was how they first met. The easy way would have been to just Google what the story and themes were about. But the company’s website was vague, and the couple had explained they wanted it to be an exclusive narrative to their players. So, the consummate professional aspiring wedding planner that Baxter Alexander Ward was, said he would attend one himself so he could best get the feel of it. The couple was excited to accompany him, though considering their love of it, he suspects they would have gone to this event anyways.

The theme of this event was a murder on a train. It was an affair across a couple of days, the murder happening once everyone settled in and received their randomly assigned roles. His, a young rich nobleman - Baxter wanted to laugh when he received his card, landing a role from a life he left behind - who had many regrets, prime of all not defying his parents to marry his childhood sweetheart Rosalind.

Rosalind. He truly doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Rosalind was here, no childhood ocean boy or any of her friends in sight. Maybe for the best, no doubt they all knew of her heartbreak after he left…

The game master laughs, slapping him and Rosalind on the back. “Ah, always nice to see old friends reunite huh? Now come, let’s all head to the dining cart. Both of you must have lots to catch up on!”

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They were seated across each other, considering that their characters likely would have wanted to catch up. They weren’t in private, still seated near the other dining cart seats, so they were likely still expected to be in character. So there was a relief, as they spoke back and forth, reciting notes from their character cards. That is, until…

“So, Theo,” The name mocking on her tongue. “I’m surprised to see you alone on this trip. No beau for the season? All here by your lonesome?”

“...I’m here on business, if you must know, dear Rosa. I’m traveling with Hemsworth,” Baxter points to a rather dainty young woman with a moustache plastered on sitting two tables away. The roles were given at random after all, so there were actually quite a few as characters who didn’t necessarily match who they were at all in person. That was one of his clients actually, though currently separated from her girlfriend-now fiancee.

Rosalind hums, focussing back on her food and drink. Baxter couldn’t help himself. Part of him just had to know. Maybe it just felt easier as for all anyone knew, he was asking as Theodore after all. “And you, Rosa? No dashing men with lovely eyebrows or brotherly demeanours have swept you off your feet?”

“...No,” she’s meticulously cutting her steak, refusing to look up at him. “After you left and broke my heart, I don’t think falling in love was ever that easy again.”

He doesn’t know what to say, what he could say. Though he didn’t quite have to, as a young woman slips into the seat next to him - the other lucky woman to be wed, and begins to make small talk to them both. Her role was that of a ditzy heiress it seemed, slightly humorous as Baxter knew the young woman was a rather stern and straightforward lawyer from the times he had met her at his office. He’s infinitely grateful as her presence certainly elevated the tenseness, and Rosalind certainly didn’t stray from her character.

As it turns out, while the player behind Rosalind was here by her lonesome, Rosa herself was with a her uncle, who decided to branch out from academics to art.

There’s an exaggerated squeal from the heiress of what kind of art and lighthearted topic carried all the way till after dessert, when Baxter could finally make his escape.

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He didn’t expect to get invested in what was going on, purely here as a learning experience of sorts after all. But with every player huddled as close as they can be in the narrow space of the train corridor, almost all in nightwear, peering over the poor fellow facedown in fake blood…

Well, maybe Baxter was a little more invested in this than he let on, now that it seemed that the game had truly begun proper. Fingers were pointed and the yelling of accusations had started.

The murder victim was the academic turned artist who recently came into fortune via a rich client and wanted to work with Hemsworth and Theodore to open a gallery, so the duo playing the investors to said victim was immediately brought into the hot seat. But he and Hemsworth exclaimed they had alibis. It went in circles, from the person sitting next to him at dinner to the one who was mostly quiet throughout this so far.

An attendant insisted they all calm down and return to their rooms. They were still miles away from any kind of authority, so for everyone’s safety they should keep their wits about it. Of course, as players, they had been instructed to investigate in their own time to solve this whodunit, and as to not alert the murderer, they would have to do so discreetly or risk being silenced by the murderer…

As expected, the married couple to be had already decided to pair up, whispering to each other. Baxter was glad they seemed to certainly be enjoying themselves…

“Now why should just let it go when it’s obvious who did it!” A man cries out, jabbing his finger towards Rosalind. “She’s the only one who could have! They’re in the same cabin, you idiots! I say we lock her up in a room now!”

Baxter finds himself speaking up, especially seeing Rosalind wince and take a few paces back in fear when all eyes turn on her. It was fine, wasn’t it? It was totally in character for Theodore to speak up and vouch for her…

“Now, now, my good sir. Didn’t you hear the attendant? He said to best let the authorities handle this, hm?”

“You’re just sticking up for her 'cause you’re sweet on her!”

“...She’s my old friend after all. Now, if it makes you feel better, I’ll stay in the same cabin with her. If I’m dead by sunrise, then you’d be right maybe.”

The fellow gives Baxter the stink eye, before he calls out for a vote - leading to Baxter now being locked in a cabin with Rosalind.

Locked with someone who he was technically in private with… No reason to stay in character…

“Would it be cliche if I say I think the loudest accuser is the murderer? Or who do you think killed my poor uncle?”

“Ah yes, the million dollar question… Considering he was an academic who - from what I heard from every other passenger at least once - he seemed to have met them all at least once. Quite the social butterfly, hm, you uncle?”

She snorts, fully breaking character as she takes out her phone and begins to tap away. The rule was that no phones were out in the open, so at least this was fine…

“Letting your sister know that you’re all fine and dandy?” He recalls how protective her family was in general, her sister demanding that the youngest contact her nightly during their short trip summers ago.

“Cove, actually,” she’s typing away, a smile on her face.

“Ah, so still as tight-knit as ever, then?”

“We’re not conjoined at the hip anymore, especially for stuff like this where he has to potentially be stuck on a train for days with strangers,” she finally halts and tucks her phone away. “Well, back to the matter at hand-”

She launches back into theories on the mystery, shutting the door on any other topics. Baxter doesn’t even attempt to try.

Rosalind’s uncle, as stated, was certainly a man of many connections. He wasn’t particularly grand as an artist, but he cashed in on many favours. Ones with rich and influential members of society were especially prevalent. He had taken Rosalind in, purely to have a hold in her whatever little inheritance her belated parents left her and to use her as a chip in negotiations - it was so easy to tempt many with a pretty girl yet to marry…

“Sounds like you would have a fair bit of motive, Rosa.”

“You think I did it as well then?”

“...No matter what, I’ll do my best to be by your side, Rosa.”

He wishes she would look his way, her eyes fixed to the scenery they were passing by. “Must be easy to say things like this huh, Theo? But promises, promises,” Her voice is shaky. “They’re just words you know? I think actions speak louder.”

“...Then what do you want me to do, Rosa?”

“Maybe you’ll just vanish again after this is all over… But at least, during this trip…”

She turns to him at last, eyes shiny with tears. “Can you stay? Please? Just pretend for me that you’re really just Theo, and don’t leave me alone…”

“...Of course. I promise.”

He could laugh. Right now, he wasn’t expected to stay in character. The childhood sweetheart, that wasn’t him. But at this moment, as Theodore, wouldn’t it be alright to indulge, even just a little…

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It had been at least over a day since the murder. They were holding a meeting in the dining cart, the majority exclaiming they found evidence of who it was. It would seem the dramatics of the loudest person really were just signs of guilt as a majority were pointing to the man who had adamantly insisted it was Rosa.

“Y-You fools! It ain’t me, I didn’t do it!”

“Oh come on, you’re the only one with the shakiest alibi, and the murder weapon was hidden in your trunk!”

“B…But…!”

There was a chaos of voices. Baxter looks to Rosalind, who had been increasingly silent throughout the day as they snuck around and questioned guests and attendants alike.

Ah. Maybe she figured it out.

“He’s right,” her voice, though softer than the yelling, cut through and silenced everyone. She walked forward, her confidence and stride like a Queen addressing her subjects. It’s no wonder they all turned to listen.

It’s no wonder she caught his eye, to begin with.

“He didn’t do it.”

“Then who did, lass?! You saying you killed him after all?!”

She shook her head, holding her breath, as if contemplating in the last few seconds. “It was…”

Rosalind turns to him. “It was you, wasn’t it Theo?”

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The story goes that Theodore’s parents, who very much did not approve of the common girl Rosalind, had struck a deal with her uncle. A great sum of money to play a part in a scheme that would pull the lovers apart. Theo would believe she only wanted him for his wealth, and Rosa broken-hearted over a slew of letters of “him” declaring he loathed her.

How unfair, that life pulled them apart.

His parents had passed, not long after Rosalind had left to who knew where with her uncle.

Theo had almost gone mad, upset at them - at himself. So foolish to believe the lies that were fed to him so easily.

He was too ashamed to even look at the letters Rosa has sent him, trying to reconnect…

No matter. His parents dead. The other one at fault would soon be too…

There were horrified gasps on the unfolding scene. Very honestly, mayhaps Baxter was just ever so slightly intrigued when the game master handed him his card at the start. Theodore - the criminal of this plot, with a suitcase of hidden props. So maybe, ever so slightly, he decided to lean into the dramatics. The game masters were still in character, after all, not stopping him.

A “gun” pointed directly at Rosalind, and bitterness in his voice. “Why did you have to ruin everything Rosa? It was almost perfect!”

“What would murdering my uncle solve?! Instead of killing him, you could have just,” Her hands were waved in frustration, she was close to crying in frustration and sadness. “Reached out to me! Explain, said something! I would have listened! Instead, you kept quiet like a coward!”

“I needed to do something to redeem myself… I didn’t know how I could show myself to you again without…”

“I just wanted you to stay,” she had crumpled to the ground, tears falling. “Why do you always have to make yourself out to be a bad guy… You just… Had to stay in touch…”

It really could have been that easy, couldn’t it?

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“I’m surprised she decided to reveal you!” One of the fiancees laughed. “I mean, sometimes in these games, the villain does get away with it, you know?”

Her other half sighs, peaking over Baxter’s shoulder to read his card. “Rosalind would have gotten a good deal herself too, if you got away with it. All her uncle’s riches would be hers and she'll finally be with the man she loved…”

“It must have simply been a matter of doing the right thing,” Baxter smiles, but his eyes were peeled to the train platform. The ending to their little adventure. But… Rosalind’s player was nowhere to be found.

It was almost ironic, for her to now vanish out of his life despite given a chance meeting. Or, perhaps it was like Rosalind declared…

All Theodore had to do was reach out…

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He didn’t.

Because Baxter Ward was a coward.

Besides, her number might have changed after all this time.

We were nothing but strangers on a train, he insists. He busies himself, looking at the information on the next client.

A Scott Adam and Jude Eckert.

Huh. He knew an Eckert, once upon a time… Summers ago…

He shakes his head again. Enough of this. All he had to do was focus on work. After all, what were the chances he’d run into her again, after all…

(FIN)

[I planned this fic before writing but as I wrote I think I lost the sauce…. Sobs….

Also pls lemme know if you spot any silly mistakes, tysm ilu]

#not beta read #oc x canon week #oc x canon week 2023 #oc x canon #my fic #my writing #our life beginnings & always #baxter ward #jamie last #oc mc

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noybusiness · 1 year

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Dark Matter Fanfic Prompts

@butfirst-wesavethegalaxy

@dark-matter-of-opinion

@darkmatterftl

@fyeahdarkmatter

These are the prompts I have for Dark Matter fanfics. The first one comes from a friend and the others are my own imaginings. If you use one of the prompts listed here, please come back and put a link to your fic in a note or reblog so that we can check it out. Please note that more than one person can do their own version of any of these prompts and in fact I encourage it; the more the merrier. If you think of a way to combine any of them, that's okay, too.

And of course, if you have prompts of your own you can post them in a note or reblog.

* The one that I'd most like to see realized comes from a user on Tumblr called RavenMcbainMonkeymouse who asked me to shop it around because she doesn't feel she can write conversations well (the working title she gave it was "Mind Games"). Instead of killing Jace Corso, the crew capture him and use One's neural imprint on him (either from when they took Transfer Transit in "Episode 8" or a later upload they discover in the ship's computer). Either replacing his own memories or giving him both sets. And what happens after that (identity issues!). I'd really like to see this realized.

* During their conversation in the hotel in "Welcome to Your New Home", One and/or Six either get a vision of what is going to happen or are snapped back in time to that moment. If One gets a vision that includes all of Seasons 2 and 3, then he should be impressed by Three's character development.

* Inspired by the fact that the crew weren't told which of them was the traitor in the Season 1 finale until shortly before that last scene was filmed, a series of AU vignettes where One (and/or Corso posing as One), Two, Three, Four, Five and the Android each turned out to be the traitor instead of Six. Could be from the perspective of the betrayed or the traitor.

* One of the crew wishes for One and Three to be polite to each other, which is magically granted with hilarious results such as being stuck because each insists on holding the door open for the other to go first.

* An AU where Marcus Boone's life is different because his parents were never killed.

* AU for the pilot where the Raza crew don't recover their last plotted destination (the mining colony) right away or find their Wanted Files in the ship's log, and thus are untethered in the galaxy with even less idea who they are than in canon.

* An accident or head trauma causes One to regress to Derrick Moss before his wife died and he infiltrated the Raza, so he has to learn about her death all over again and is understandably freaked out to be surrounded by infamous criminals and told he's part of their crew.

* When Two laid claim to Alternate Portia's jacket at the end of "Stuff to Steal, People to Kill", there was a spy fly on it that now secretly flies around the ship and relays audio and video of our crew's doings to the alternate crew (that's why Portia didn't put up much of a fuss about the jacket). Could be played for laughs.

* Something that incorporates the sentence "One and Five shrieked. Two and Four reached for their weapons. Three and Six did both."

* The Android throws the crew a surprise birthday party on the anniversary of their awakening. Half of them shouldn't even know their birthday birthdays anyway. Since it was her awakening, too, perhaps she'd even wipe her own memory of doing the planning after it was all set up, so that she could be surprised as well. Preferably in an AU where One wasn't killed off or he's head of CoreLactic again. This came to me because Alternate Wexler said in Season 3 that it had been a month since his counterpart died in Season 1, and Mallozzi confirmed that this is accurate and relatively little time passes between episodes, so it occurred to me that their birthday hadn't passed yet. (A user I gave this prompt to a while ago has used it in a fic on AO3, but as I said, the more the merrier.)

* What each of the crew's original selves was dreaming about at the moment that the amnesia hit them in stasis. This occurred to me because of a scene cut from "We Were Family" where the Android asked Four about when he first started dreaming, because people without memories to process can't dream. That and the pilot episode script saying we start by focusing in on One in his pod oblivious to his surroundings, and Five explaining in Season 3 that when someone is in stasis their digital consciousness is uploaded to keep their mind active, which is how she saved Sarah.

* The crew realize that Five (per another cut scene from "We Were Family") has a crush on Devon, and the guys mess with him by doing the inevitable big brother "if you ever hurt her" speech thing. Two eyerolls at them and acts like she's exasperated with their behavior.. but then turns around and makes the scariest threat yet.

* Two puts off an annoyingly helpful salesperson in a shop on a space station by pointing to One and Three across the shop and saying her friends are a married couple ("You can tell they're married by the way they argue.") shopping for their little girl and they could really use the salesperson's assistance much more than she could. One and Three are unable to get a word in edgewise return to the Raza laden with bags of little girl's clothing ("Don't. Ask.")

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bitletsanddrabbles · 1 year

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I can like you and hate your friends

Back when I was on LiveJournal, I was part of a really pretty extensive fan group. Gundam Wing. We’d mostly formed before it came to the States and a number of us, eh, kinda dropped out when the US crowd came in. There were a combination of reasons - the person running the ML I was on got too busy and needed to hand it off to someone; I wasn’t overly invested to start with and the fandom got...really big really fast for my taste; other people moved on to other things. It wasn’t a blow up or anything really to do with the Cartoon Network version or the new fans. It was just one of those things.

We still bumped into each other on LiveJournal though. At one point, some of us had a pretty massive falling out with the person who had taken over the ML, first over some of their calls (I wasn’t involved, but a friend was - even the old mod was pretty ‘wtf’ over it), then some of their attitudes on LJ. For a flame war it was pretty tame - mainly a brief-but-mighty shower of sparks - but it was definitely the end of that friendship.

Thing is, in the middle of it one of our mutual friends made a post that was effectively “Look, I’m sorry you guys are upset at each other, but I want to make it plain that I like you all and am staying out of it.” To which I naturally responded “I should hope so! There is no reason for you to get involved in our issues. This isn’t kindergarten.” And she and I stayed friends and she and the other person stayed friends.

As it should be.

That was a couple of decades ago.

Last year I came back after a hiatus and said “Yay! Finally saw the second movie! Hope I can see it again before it’s out of theaters, ‘cause I really liked it!”

...and people unfollowed me. Other people continued to follow, they just stopped talking to me. I could leave comments, I could send messages, and nada. It’s like suddenly I didn’t exist. Until, of course, I wanted some nice Thomas/Richard to read, but everything on Ao3 was distinctly Sour Grape flavored, so I griped about it a little bit. Then someone unbent enough to tell me off for being an unsympathetic twit who didn’t understand how awful the Guy fans were and how it was all their fault and how dare I want something nice and fluffy to read! Suggesting that people write for the love of the pairing was so unreasonable!

...

The great part is that they didn’t even read the Thomas/Richard fic attached to that post, unlike the person who, at the time, was answering to “guydexterdefenseleague”. That person not only read the fic, but left some really kind and lovely comments.

And this has been my experience:

The Thomas/Richard OTPers have, by and large, kinda treated me like garbage, while the Thomas/Guy crew have been nice and welcoming.

It’s not felt great, as far as the suddenly ex-friends are concerned. Or, for that matter, where the people-who-have-never-said-boo-to-me-until-I-gripe-about-said-ex-friends are concerned.

And I’m not alone.

While I’ve heard a lot about how nasty the Thomas/Guy OTPers have been to the Thomas/Richard OTPers (mostly from the Thomas/Richard OTPers, but occasionally from neutral parties, like the Thomas/Jimmy crew), it’s all been very general “wah, we so hated on”. There have been no specific examples of ill treatment. From the Thomas/Guy OTPers, I’ve gotten nothing but nice things, and from other would-be-neutral-except-for-bad-experiences fans, I’ve heard things about the Thomas/Richard fans that have been at least as bad as mine.

Some have been worse. So much worse.

Now, this does not, of course, mean that there are no Thomas/Richard OTPers out there who have had very bad experiences with the Thomas/Guy crew. Even without the neutral parties assuring me that the shipping wars have been just that - wars - I’d believe there are some cut-throat, nasty Thomas/Guy fans. Why? Because this is humanity we’re talking about, and fandom, and both have long associations with being nasty. And pretty much everyone has agreed that, yes, the hate has gone both ways, I just haven’t seen a lot of it. So, yes, you tell me that you’ve had a bad experience, I am willing to believe you. Mostly. There are a few exceptions, but they are...I think two in number.

It also doesn’t mean that every Thomas/Richard OTPer is nasty. There are people who are still willing to treat me the same way they always did. They are as lovely and wonderful as they have always been, and are just as much a joy to deal with. When I use words like ‘most’, ‘a large number’, and ‘many’, I mean just that. If I meant ‘all’ I would say ‘all’.

The thing, where this all ties back in with LiveJournal story, is this: they’re still friends with at least some of the people who ditched me the second I didn’t hate a movie. And why not? Those people haven’t stopped talking to them. They’re still being nice and friendly and giving inspiration and having fun. They’re still a source of joy and inspiration and help.

And that is how it should be.

I’m not going to tell anyone that they can’t be my friend if they like people I don’t. I’m not going to tell anyone that they can’t be my friend if they don’t like all of my other friends. If my other friends have been utter dicks to them, they are allowed to not like them, and they are allowed to make kinda snippy commentary on their blogs. Why? Another concept from LJ: because it’s their blog!

Despite appearances, this is not, in fact, kindergarten.

And if you don’t like that. If you just can’t deal with the fact that this is my blog and I can get cross at people who have treated me poorly on it if I like. Well. Good news. Another difference between Tumblr and kindergarten is that on Tumblr you have a block function.

And to anyone gearing up to leave nasty, indignant, rage filled comments or reblog with additional commentary telling me off, guess what? I have a block function too.

#fandom #fandom wars #shipping wars #how friendship works #it's your blog #say what you want #downton abbey

0 notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 38

Sorry for the delay. Real life gets out of hand. But here it is! The antepenultimate chapter.

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 500 notes on tumblr)

Hope you all enjoy

_____________________________________________________________

“I shouldn’t have let her go out there.”

Fu watched the school nurse, Angela, fret as she paced back and forth.

“I understand your concern, but I believe that it will all be alright. Ladybug and Chat Noir haven’t failed in handling an akuma yet,” he explained. “The girl will be okay.”

The nurse stopped pacing.

“I appreciate your optimism but… I am really not used to this,” She said as she gestured to the air.

Fu blinked at the statement.

“Oh?”

“This! This whole thing! Super villains that appear whenever someone gets sad, teenagers with superpowers! This is all new to me! I just moved to Paris a month ago from the countryside. All I wanted was to further my education and get work in the medical field. It… It boggles my mind that everyone in this city is so okay with all of this! Even my new boyfriend Curtis is able to shrug off an akuma attack like a sudden drizzle. This isn’t normal!”

The guardian could tell the young woman was distressed, and he couldn’t blame her. In a way, he envied her. This was all foreign for her, but to him, this was his entire life.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up like that. I've had a lot to deal with, and this whole situation is just so…”

Fu moved to her and helped her sit down.

“It’s alright, this is by no means a good situation. Your concerns are very understandable. I can tell that deep down that your frustration and fear come from compassion and empathy. You will make a wonderful doctor one day.”

She took a deep breath.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I really needed to hear that today.”

“How about I teach you a medication technique that will help you calm down?”

“Meditation? I'm not really one for that kind of stuff.”

“If one wants to be a doctor, being able to calm down and handle an emergency situation is a must.”

The school nurse agreed that he had a good point, and that this may help get her mind off of things.

“Okay, I guess I'll give it a shot.”

Fu smiled.

“Good. Let us start simple. Close your eyes and put your hands together.”

Angela felt the action was a bit odd but complied.

“Now, take a deep breath. Count to 5 in your head and then breathe out.”

She took her breath and followed the order.

“Whenever you feel a thought come to your head, simply picture yourself putting it out of your mind and into a bucket.”

She tried her best to comply.

As she did this, Fu moved behind her and quickly pinched a nerve on her neck, causing the young woman to seize up for a moment before losing consciousness.

“That will help her relax.”

He carefully moved her to the cot and laid a sheet over her like a blanket.

Once it was clear that she was asleep, a turtle kwami flew out of hiding.

“So, what do we do now, Master?”

Fu took a moment to consider.

His plan was already in motion. Ladybug and Chat Noir had plenty of allies to help fight the akuma. All that needed to be done was to sit down and wait.

But as he thought about it more, he couldn’t help but think that he should go in personally. It was what he'd initially planned to do with akuma, after all. Listening to this young woman’s fears made him really see how his inaction has led to such fear and uncertainty.

For once, it was time for him to go on the offensive.

“Now we head out and find this akuma.”

“Master, you already sent out three miraculous. Let the other heroes handle this,” Wayzz insisted.

“The people of Paris should not have to become used to this. I have been far too lax with this situation. Right now, Ladybug and Chat Noir are facing their most dangerous akuma yet. For decades I have always remained passive in order to avoid making another mistake, but I have already made so many with my inaction. It's time I stop letting my actions be dictated by fear.”

“But Master, you can’t transform! Your body is too old to handle it!”

“Fear not, Wayzz. I have been exercising and restoring my vitality with the techniques of the guardians. By my estimation, I should be able to maintain the transformation without too much issue for 10 minutes,” Fu assured.

“That is not a lot of time, Master!” Wayzz pointed out.

“True, but it is better than nothing. We will head out and wait for the moment we need it. Be ready, Wayzz.”

The old guardian started heading to the door.

“But Master, what if you get captured? What if the akuma does succeed and you are unable to step in?”

Fu paused at the door.

“I know you are concerned for me. I appreciate your care. But I need to go out there. I have lived a long life, Wayzz, far longer than most humans. One day I may not be here to be the guardian.”

Wayzz felt a pang of sorrow hearing his Master talk about how he would no longer be around.

“But that’s okay. I know that when that time comes… I have two young heroes that will be ready to stand up and fight. The best thing an old man like me can do is pave the road for them.” The guardian said with certainty. He went to open the door.

“Fu…”

The old man stopped. Turning around, he saw the turtle kwami he had known for most of his life smile at him.

“I know you think of yourself as a failure of a guardian… but Su Han and the others were wrong. You are a great one. You are the most caring guardian that has ever held the title. And I will be by your side to the end.”

The old man felt his eyes well up at the sweet comment.

“Then let’s go, Partner.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The dragon heroine grabbed the confused snake hero and moved him to the closest room before closing the door.

“Okay we should be safe here,” she said as she looked over to her comrade. It was clear that Viperion was still very confused. It did not help that both his and her miraculous were beeping. They didn't have much time.

“Thanks… ummm,” Viperion started as he tried to rack his brain for a name. Part of him felt like he should know her. But his mind is blank.

“Ryuuko. You can call me Ryuuko. And you are Viperion.”

“Okay… weird name for me, but I guess it works.”

Ryuuko realized that the bubble Viperion had been put in wasn’t just to keep him frozen in place. One of the side effects must have been leaving him without any memory of who he was. Had her partner been aware of that risk when he took the bubble for her? She couldn’t know for sure. But right now, she needed to focus on the task at hand. Shehad to take charge since her partner was out of sorts.

“Okay, 'll try to explain this as quickly as possible.”

“Your real name is Luka. But when you are in your hero form, you go by Viperion.”

“Hero form...”

He looked down.

“Well, that does explain the costumes. I thought it was some sort of weird costume party.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore that.

“Okay, so I'm a hero. And you're one too?”

“Yes. We are both heroes picked by Ladybug to help her fight villains. Right now, we're fighting a bunch of them, and you got your memory wiped by one of their attacks. That’s why you are confused. Any questions?”

The boy took a moment to look himself over and then look at her. This was a lot of information to take in. Ryuuko was half expecting him to call her crazy. Which, given how bizarre the circumstances were, she wouldn’t blame him.

“Okay, I think if it was anyone else telling me this, I would have called it a load of bull. But… I don’t know why but I feel like I can trust you. You sound sincere,” Viperion responded.

“Okay great, now let's…”

“I still have a few questions.”

Ryuuko sighs.

“Look, we really don’t have much time. We need to hurry and get out there to help…”

And just before she finished the statement, both of their transformations wore off. Revealing their civilian forms.

“Oh no.” Kagami muttered in horror.

“What happened? Where am I… What am I?” The snake kwami questioned as he looked at himself.

“It appears that Sass was also impacted by the amnesia.” The dragon kwami that popped out of her necklace commented.

Luka stared wide eyed at the creature.

“Are you a snake?”

“A snake? I suppose?”

“A snake with limbs? That is very rock and roll.”

The two fistbumped. Thankfully they seemed to get along.

Longg looked at them.

“This is quite a predicament.”

“We need to hurry back in. Longg! Bring the….”

“Hold on a moment. Both Sass and I will not be able to do that yet.”

Kagami stopped.

“How come?”

“We need to refuel. The energy of transforming AND using our unique powers drains a lot out of us. We need some food to continue.”

“Food… Okay.”

The snake Kwami grabbed his stomach.

“I find myself rather famished,” he commented.

Luka looked at him.

“Let me see if I can help you out.”

The teen took off the backpack he was wearing to go through it. Thankfully there was a bag lunch in there. For some reason he felt that was important. But decided that if it could help the little guy out, he was sure it wouldn’t be a big deal.

He opened the bag lunch and pulled out a bag of apple slices. Opening it to grab a piece.

“I know snakes usually are carnivores, but how about some fruit?”

“Ooo! It smells divine!”

Luka handed the floating kwami a piece of the apple.

He takes a bite.

“Oh! It's delicious! Juicy and sweet!”

The snake quickly devours the apple piece.

As that happens, Kagami looked through her bag.

“I don’t have fruit but I do have some onigiri. It was my afternoon snack… but since this is a dire situation.”

“Rice? Yes please!” Longg exclaimed as he dive bombed right into the delicious rice ball.

“It’s Umeboshi, it’s not to everyone’s taste but It is one of my favorites.”

“It’s the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. The sour plum really brings a new dimension of flavor.”

Kagami smiled a bit at her kwami companion, happy that she could help.

The two Kwami finished their food and were ready for action.

“Okay, Sass. You need to help Luka transform.”

“Sass? Is that my name?” the snake inquired.

“So, he helps me transform into Viperman?”

“Viperion, and yes,” Kagami responded.

“All you need to do is say. Sass, Scales Slither. And to activate your special power just pull your bracelet back and say second chance. Then pull it back when you want to use it. But be sure not to use it right away,” Longg instructed.

“Okay seems easy enough. Are you okay with this?” Luka asked as he turned his attention to his snake pal.

“The floating horn snake seems fine with it so I say let’s give it a try”

Longg decided for the sake of his friendship with Sass to ignore the comment.

“Alright! Let's do this!” Kagami exclaimed as she prepared to transform.

“One last question.”

Kagami was starting to get antsy. She wanted to be back out there fighting. But she held back her annoyance, considering how he sacrificed his memories for her.

“Make it quick, we need to hurry.”

Luka scratches the back of his head.

“Are we a couple?”

If Kagami was drinking water she would have done a massive spit take. Her cheeks turned red.

“What?!”

“You know… together? You seem to know a lot about me, and I just feel this connection... like I can trust you even though I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how or why, but I feel like you matter to me.”

Kagami’s eyes went wide at the comment. It felt surprisingly bold of the musician to say. She had to admit that the statement made her heart skip a beat.

“No, we had just recently become friends.” Kagami responded.

“Oh…” Luka was saddened by the response.

“But, I have thought about the possibility it could be more than that one day," Kagami continued. "But that is something to discuss when you have your memory back. Maybe.”

The fencer felt her mind scream at her.

‘WHY DID YOU SAY THAT! Well, at least he won't remember.’

Luka smiled at that.

“Well, that must mean I must be a good guy, if I could have such a great friend like you.”

The teen prepared himself.

“Alright then! Sass! Scales Slither.”

The musician shifted into his hero form.

“Let’s go save the day.”

Kagami looked at her hero partner and smiled.

“Longg, Bring the storm.

______________________________________________________________________

“Well, that might be a problem.”

Chat Noir and Ladybug looked to see a stone giant guarding the front door of the classroom. The two had hidden just out of the goliath’s view.

“Any ideas on how to take down Mount Akuma?” Chat Noir questioned.

Ladybug looked at the giant from their hiding spot and began formulating a plan.

“Stoneheart grows bigger when he gets mad. These akuma aren’t really able to express their emotions. That means we don’t need to worry about him getting bigger. We just need to find a way to incapacitate him.”

“We could ask Mayura,” Chat Noir pointed out.

“We could ask… wait WHA…”

Chat Noir covered his partner’s mouth and ducked down.

“Shhhh! She’s right there,” Chat Noir hushed.

Ladybug removed the cat’s hand from her mouth and looked from the spot to see that her partner was right. Mayura was in the building!

“She actually showed up?” Oh, this is a lot more serious than we thought. Hawkmoth is really playing it serious with this one.”

“To the butterfly man’s credit, he really has been throwing out some tough ones.”

“I will not give our worst villain credit for anything except this headache,” Ladybug retorted with annoyance.

“So, what do we do? Mayura is in the building and she is talking with the giant.”

Ladybug felt like the situation couldn’t get worse.

“Not so fast, Feather Freak!”

Ladybug recognized that voice.

“Chloé?”

Chat Noir and Ladybug glanced to see a familiar blonde strutting down the hallway. But their expressions of shock shifted to bewilderment when they noticed what she was wearing.

“So are you and that purple fashion blunder here? Or is it just you? I am guessing it's just you. Your boss doesn’t really like to show his face unless he thinks he is sure to win. No wonder Ladybug always kicks his…” The bee themed heroine confidently quipped.

“Queen Bee. Now that is a surprise. I thought Ladybug was done giving you a miraculous.” The peacock villainess commented. She had no interest in dealing with the bee heroine at this time.

“Well, you would be surprised by a lot of things. So how about we settle this. My fist really misses your face.”

Mayura rolled her eyes.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Stoneheart, I am sure Masquerade would love for you to take care of this pesky bee.”

“Oh don’t think you can walk away! You and that purple cockroach are the same. Both cowards that can’t even face children.” She jeered as she walked forward.

The stone giant moved forward, allowing Mayura to walk to the door and enter.

“Too scared to face me! Typical. I'll beat your pet rock as a warm up and then your butt will meet my foot!” Queen Bee exclaimed with confidence. “Because I am a real heroine!”

Queen Bee got into a stance and prepared to trade blows with the colossus of rock.

Chat Noir looked to Ladybug.

“Did you give her a miraculous?” He whispered in surprise.

“I don’t have any additional miraculous. I thought she had been captured with the rest of the class.”

“Wait… if it wasn’t you… you don’t think…”

“Either Master Fu is in the building and saw how dire the situation was or Chloé snuck away and had a Queen Bee costume stowed away in her locker.”

The two look at each other and immediately come to the same conclusion.

“We need to save her before she gets crushed!”

______________________________________________________________________

Mayura walked into the classroom.

She managed to keep a straight face, but internally she had a lot going through her mind.

What was once a standard classroom now looked like an elaborate throne room. The amazing curtains, the high ceilings. The steps leading up to an elaborate throne. The portraits of Masquerade really brought together the utter decadence and vanity of the akuma persona. It reminds Mayura of Gabriel’s obsession with Emilie in the worst way possible.

Despite finding the décor off-putting, she had to admit it was impressive how Masquerade had been able to change the room into something completely unrecognizable. A testament to her vanity.

She took a moment to see what akuma servants she still had in the room. The Gamer, Reflekta with around 12 copies, Princess Fragrance, Robostus, Zombizou and Horificator. While the white masks obscured their expressions, it was clear that all of them were watching her. It greatly unnerved her.

She kept these thoughts to herself as the masked akuma that was running the school took notice of her.

“Mayura. I've been expecting you.”

Mayura looked up to see Masquerade sitting on the throne.

“Please, come in.”

She approached confidently. Though in the back of her mind something seemed off.

Masquerade stood up from the throne and walked down the steps, a smile of certainty on her face.

“Masquerade. Your Sentimonster gave me the basics of your plan. Securing the school as your base of operations was a good first step. Your plan of creating a video to lower the spirits of those in Paris was also a nice touch,” Mayura praised.

“But of course! My plan is flawless,” Masquerade boasted. “Not even Ladybug and Chat Noir will be able to stop me.”

“Getting ahead of yourself aren’t you?” Mayura cut her ego trip.

Masquerade’s mood soured as her smile faltered.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You have yet to face the two heroes. Not to mention there's a pesky bee flying around.”

“A bee?” Masquerade was very confused by the comment.

“Yes, Chloé Bourgeois, or Queen Bee, to be precise. Seems that Ladybug and Chat Noir went and got back up."

“It doesn’t matter if they have one additional hero or three. This plan won't fail.”

‘Something isn’t right here. I need to leave now!’ Mayura’s mind screamed.

She wasn’t sure why, but something felt incredibly off.

“Speaking of heroes, your plan never really specified how you will deal with them. Care to elaborate?”

Masquerade’s smile grew more sinister.

“I am glad you asked. After Simularé relayed to me that you were here. I finally figured out the perfect way of dealing with those arrogant heroes,” the masked woman stated with certainty, moving forward.

She now stood only a few feet from the peacock villainess.

“Wait a moment, something is wrong here,” Mayura commented as she tried to focus. She couldn’t ignore the warnings in her head.

“What do you mean?” The mask akuma looked with confusion at the blue villainess.

Mayura looked around. Frantically trying to find something but it was fruitless. This distress caused Masquerade to smile.

“I can't sense it,” Mayura spoke with slight worry.

“Sense what?” Masquerade inquired further.

“Where is your amok? It should be on your person but I can't sense it.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. If you don’t have the amok in your possession then that sentimonster will go out of control!” Mayura explained.

“Can’t you just rip the amok out?”

“If it's nearby and I sense it, yes. But I can’t do that if it’s out of my range.”

“So you’re saying you have no power over me right now.” A devilish grin appeared on Masquerade’s face.

“No, I am saying I don’t have any power over the senti…”

Mayura felt a chill as she realized that the masquerade in front of her was not an akumatized Lila.

“Horrificator, block the door,” the Faux Masquerade commanded.

The pink and purple monster quickly moved to block the door with her large form.

The controlled akuma started circling around her as Simularé undid the illusion and morphed into its true specter form, Simularé.

“You ungrateful little monster. You think your master will be okay with you attacking one of the ones that gave her power?”

“My master doesn’t care about you or Hawkmoth. You are a means to an end. And she gave me special permission to take your miraculous from you.”

“Well if your master isn’t here, then no one is jamming the signal. I can contact Hawkmoth and put this little coup to an end.”

Simularé shifted into Lady Wifi.

“I have access to every power my master does. You are trapped with no options.” The sentimonster mocked.

Mayura looked around as she was circled by the controlled akuma. She needed to get out of there.

She felt a pain rush to her head.

‘F*** not now’ She mentally cursed.

The odds were indeed not in her favor.

______________________________________________________________________________

Stoneheart began charging at the bee themed heroine, and just as Queen Bee was about to move, a yo-yo wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the monster.

The stone giant had expected his charge to make contact but forced himself to stop when he noticed the bee was gone.

“Sorry tiny, but I’m your playmate now,” called a cat-themed hero.

The mindless akuma didn’t visibly react to the change in foe and simply charged at the cat hero.

Queen Bee found herself near Ladybug.

“Chloé! What are you doing?!”

“Uh… Saving the day? I got the jewelry box that you sent out because you needed my help.”

“Jewelry box… wait a minute that means. You are wearing a miraculous.”

“Yep! Don’t worry LB, I will show you that I am worthy of being Queen Bee. And not to boast, but I totally saved someone. But right now, we gotta go beat that ugly pile of rubble.”

Ladybug looked at Chloé for a moment. With the situation as hectic as it was, Queen Bee has shown some competence when there is real danger. Ladybug knew that right now, all hands that could help would be appreciated, and Queen Bee’s appearance could mean that Fu may be closer than she expected. So maybe there were more reinforcements. So if this was the case. She would trust Fu’s judgement.

“Alright, just be ready to return the bee after all of this is over.”

“Right, right, but just know I will probably change your mind about that after this is over!” the bee exclaimed confidently as she jumped back into the fray.

Ladybug shook her head. Whether she was Queen Bee or Chloé, she was still a handful.

“Are you finished gossiping? Because I could REALLY use a hand!” Chat Noir shouted as he held his staff up to hold back the rock monster’s boulder of a fist.

Queen Bee and Ladybug jumped into view and noticed the situation.

“Don’t worry you stray cat, The Queen Bee will put that rock in his place. Ve…”

Ladybug covered Queen Bee’s mouth before she could.

“Hold it. We might need your power for later.”

“I think it would be useful now!” Chat Noir shouted as he struggled to hold the weight of the giant’s rocky hand.

“Okay if my powers are a no no right now, what is the plan?”

Ladybug looked around. She found her attention drawn to a fire extinguisher, Queen Bee, a rubber band, and a discarded backpack.

“Okay, I have a plan.”

______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel had made a decision.

He hurried out of the lair in his civilian form. He was going to head to the school. Now he would just need to get his chauffeur and go…

Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he saw his son’s bodyguard and chauffeur fall to the floor at the steps of the main entrance, a white mask adorning his face that he was desperately trying to get off.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gabriel asked aloud in shock and anger.

He looked to see the mask akuma he created standing at the door.

“Well, if it isn’t Gabriel Agreste. Fashion mogul, and master manipulator.”

Gabriel’s visible anger faded as he stared at the akuma.

“Lila, is that you?”

“Oh quite astute! An amazing deduction. Was it that observational skill that made you the fashion success you are now?” the akumatized Lila inquired. “Though I go by Masquerade now.”

Gabriel knew very well the girl’s powers. He was the one that gave it to her. She was trying to antagonize him, get him angry. But that would not work.

“Well Masquerade, what brings you to my home at this time?” Gabriel asked calmly. Doing his best to keep his tone and mannerisms calm.

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, finding more people to join my little army and I notice my charm glowing as I was getting near.”

Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he realized something. The charm bracelet was configured to locate anyone that has ever been akumatized. That included him. His ploy to ward suspicion off of himself was now biting him in the butt. And of course, Lila was likely holding a grudge with how he pushed her with his words about his son and his classmate.

“My bodyguard was akumatized. What of it?”

The silent action figure enthusiast stopped resisting and his body began growing. Gabriel noticed the man was transforming into the gorilla akuma. Gorizilla! And he rushed up the steps as the akuma moved and pounded his chest.

“Gorizilla, go gather up anyone who has been akumatized that you know of. I will handle Mr. Agreste myself.”

The giant akuma nodded at its master and headed off, leaving the agreste mansion with a giant hole that was once the front of the mansion.

“Handle me? And what do you plan to do?”

Masquerade’s necklace began to glow.

“Oh! Well that is very interesting,” Masquerade mused aloud as she learned from the glowing charm.

“What do you mean, interesting?” Gabriel asked. He knew that the charm had the bonus effect of pointing out the emotional weak points of those that had been akumatized. But he had PRETENDED to be angry and wasn’t actually emotional when the akuma took over. Did the charm still impact him the same way it did everyone else?

Masquerade started walking up the steps.

“You blame yourself for your wife’s passing.”

The statement was a blade pointed right at his throat. But Gabriel refused to react. He would not let himself be taken advantage of by his own akuma. He has been on the receiving end one too many times and he would be damned if he let that psychopath have control of him.

Masquerade saw that Gabriel was not reacting to the statement.

“I have never seen a man more miserable and pathetic,” Masquerade said. Her words sounded genuine and cutting.

Gabriel tried to turn around and walk away. But Masquerade jumped high with her superhuman agility and landed right in front of him, continuing her tearing down of his emotional state.

“All of this wealth and yet you are obsessed with what you don’t have. You are so blinded by the grief of losing your wife that everything else in your life may as well not exist. You locked yourself away, desperately trying to find something, anything that would bring her back. But now you are finding that color is starting to return in your life. You feel guilt over hiding the truth from your son, you loathe the attraction that you have been developing for another woman. You hate that you can’t dedicate every second to your lost wife and any speck of joy you feel without her here feels like treason since she is not here with you. You are a man so blind with his obsession that you fail to see the world doesn’t revolve around you. It's disgusting.”

“You know nothing of my life,” Gabriel dismissed.

But Masquerade knew he would say that. She only smiled. The truth was right in front of her. And she was ready to bring it home.

“You are actually terrified of facing her again.”

That shook Gabriel.

“What?”

“You are afraid of seeing her again. Whether it’s a year or 10 years, you feel that even if you could bring her back, she would be here and realize how much of a shell you had become without her. You are afraid that your obsession with her will be the very thing that drives her away once you see her again.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Then why haven’t you brought her back yet? Don’t you love her?”

Gabriel felt like his heart was being repeatedly punched.

“How dare you question my love for my wife!”

“Then why isn’t she here? If you loved her she wouldn’t have been taken from you and Adrien. But you were far too pathetic to do it. You failed her, and you are still failing her. You will never be with her again, and deep down. You know it to be true,” Masquerade answered coldly.

Those words were enough to get him down. That is what finally did him in.

Gabriel fell to his knees.

“No…”

Gabriel had broken. Masquerade knew she had him.

He was emotionally devastated, to the point where couldn’t even react to the mask coming his way.

____________________________________________________________

Well now things are now hitting their highest points of drama!

Will Ladybug and other heroes be able to stand up to Masquerade?

Will Mayura fall to Simularé's double cross?

Will I EVER update in time?

Tell me your thoughts on the chapter. Your support keeps it alive

#ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #soulmate survey #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #drama #ladynoir #lukagami

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earlgreytea68 · 3 years

Text

Heyyyyyy, I bet you were DYING to know stuff about that Google v. Oracle decision, huh?

You may have heard recently about a big deal Supreme Court decision called Google v. Oracle, a litigation that has dragged on for many, many, many years and focuses on Google having copied some pieces of computer programming owned by Oracle and known as APIs. Most of the write-ups I’ve seen about it have focused on its enormous repercussions for the technology sector, which makes sense since it’s a case about computer programming and APIs and other tech-y things.

But the thing about the decision is that it’s a fair use decision. The Supreme Court could have found that the APIs weren’t even protected by copyright. But instead, the Supreme Court used the doctrine of fair use, and this means that the case potentially has ramifications for all fair use situations, including fanfiction!

So, if you don’t know, fair use is a main defense to copyright infringement. Basically, you can use somebody else’s copyrighted work without their permission as long as what you’re doing with it is considered a “fair use.” E.g., you can write a story in somebody else’s fictional universe or draw art of somebody else’s fictional copyrighted characters without their permission as long as your use is a “fair use.”

“What’s a fair use?” is an incredibly complicated question. The long and tortured history of Google v. Oracle illustrates this: a jury found Google’s use was a fair use; an appellate court found that it wasn’t and basically said the jury was wrong; and now the Supreme Court says no, no, the jury was right and the appellate court was wrong. Like, this is not unusual, fair case rulings are historically full of disagreements over the same set of facts. All of the cases reiterate over and over that it’s a question that can’t really be simplified: every fair use depends on the particular circumstances of that use. So, in a way, Google v. Oracle, like every fair use case, is a very specific story about a very specific situation where Google used very specific APIs in a very specific way.

However, while every fair use case is always its own special thing, they all always debate the same four fair use factors (these are written into the law itself as being the bare minimum of what should be considered), and especially what’s known as the first and fourth factors. The first factor is formally “the purpose and character of the alleged fair use,” although over the decades of fair use jurisprudence this has come to be shorthanded as “transformativeness,” and the fourth factor is “effect on the market.”

Most of the energy and verve of a fair use case is usually in the transformativeness analysis; the more transformative your use is, the more likely it is to be fair (this is why AO3’s parent organization is called the Organization for *Transformative* Works – “transformative” is a term of art in copyright law). To “transform” a work, btw, for purposes of copyright fair use doesn’t necessarily mean that you have edited the work somehow; you can copy a work verbatim and still be found transformative if you have added some new commentary to it by placing it in a new context (Google Image Search thumbnails, while being exact reproductions of the image in question, have been found to be fair use because they’re recontextualizing the images for the different purpose of search results). The point is, transformativeness is, like fair use itself, built to be flexible.

Why? Because the purpose of copyright is to promote creativity, and sometimes we promote creativity by giving people a copyright, but sometimes giving someone a copyright that would block someone else’s use is the opposite of promoting creativity; that’s why we need fair use, for THAT, for when letting the copyright holder block the use would cause more harm to the general creative progress than good. Google v. Oracle recommits U.S. copyright to the idea that all this is not about protecting the profits of the copyright monopolist; we need to make sure that copyright functions to keep our society full of as much creativity as possible. Google copied Oracle’s APIs to make new things: create new products, better smartphones, a platform for other programmers to jump in and give us even more new functionality. The APIs themselves were created used preexisting stuff in the first place, so it’s not like anyone was working in a vacuum with a wholly original work. And, in fact, executives had thought that, the more people they could get using the programming, the better off they would be.

Which brings us to the fourth fair use factor, effect on the market (meaning the copyright holder’s market and ability to reap profits from the original work). There’s a lot of tech stuff going on in this part of the opinion but one of the points I find interesting from that discussion is that the court thought that Google’s use of the APIs was not a market substitute for the original programming, meaning that Google used the APIs “on very different devices,” an entirely new mobile platform that was “a very different type of product.”

But also. What I find most interesting in this part is the court’s explicit acknowledgment that sometimes things are good because they are superior, and sometimes things are good because people “are just used to it. They have already learned how to work with it.” Now, this obviously has special resonance in the tech industry (is your smartphone good because it’s the best it could be, or because you’re just really used to the way it’s set up?), but there’s also something interesting being said here about how not all of the value of a copyrighted work belongs *to the copyright holder* but comes *from consumers.* Forgive the long quote but I think the Court’s words are important here:

“This source of Android’s profitability has much to do with third parties’ (say, programmers’) investment in Sun Java programs. It has correspondingly less to do with Sun’s investment in creating the Sun Java API. . . . [G]iven programmers’ investment in learning the Sun Java API, to allow enforcement of Oracle’s copyright here would risk harm to the public. . . . [A]llowing enforcement here would make of the Sun Java API’s declaring code a lock limiting the future creativity of new programs. Oracle alone would hold the key. The result could well prove highly profitable to Oracle . . . . But those profits could well flow from creative improvements, new applications, and new uses developed by users who have learned to work with that interface. To that extent, the lock would interfere with, not further, copyright’s basic creativity objectives.”

This is picking up on reasoning in some older computer cases (like Lotus v. Borland, a First Circuit case from decades ago), but I think it’s so important we got this in a Supreme Court case: if WE bring some value to the copyrighted work through our investment in it, why should the copyright holder get to collect ALL the rewards by locking up further creativity involving that work? Which, incidentally, the Court explicitly notes is to the public detriment because more creativity is good for the public? This is such an important idea to the Supreme Court’s reasoning here that it’s the first part of the fair use test that it decides: that the value of the work at issue here “in significant part derives from the value that those who do not hold copyrights . . . invest of their own time and effort . . . .”

This case is, as we say in the law, distinguishable from fanfiction and fanart. APIs are different from television shows, and this case is very much a decision about technology and computer programming and smartphones and how old law gets applied to new things. Like, fair use is an old doctrine dating from the early nineteenth-century, and here we are figuring out how to apply it to the Android mobile phone platform. That, in and of itself, is pretty cool, and it’s rightly what most of the articles you’ll see out there about this case are focusing on.

But this case isn’t just a technology case; it’s also a fair use case that places itself in the lineage of all the fair use cases we look at when we think about what makes a use fair. And, to that end, this has some interesting things to say, about how much value consumers bring to copyrighted works and where a copyright holder’s rights might have to acknowledge that; about the fact that there are in fact limits to how much a copyright holder can control when it comes to holding the “lock” to future creativity building on what came before; about what part of the market a copyright holder is entitled to and what it isn’t. Think about the analogy you could make here: Given the investment of fans in learning canon, which is what makes the creative work valuable in the first place, allowing enforcement against fanfic or fanart would allow the canon creators to have a lock limiting future creativity, which would be highly profitable to the original creator (or, let’s be real, to Disney lol), but wouldn’t further copyright’s goals of promoting creativity because it would stifle all of that creativity instead. And just like Google with the APIs, what fandom is doing is not a market substitute for the original work: they’re “very different products.”

This is not to say, like, ANYTHING GOES NOW. Like I said, fanfic and fanart are very different from APIs. Fictional works get more protection than a functional work like the APIs at issue in this case. And there’s still a whole thing about commercial vs. non-commercial in fair use analysis which I didn’t really touch here (but which obviously has limits, since it’s not like Google isn’t making tons of money, and their use was a fair use). But this decision could kind of remind a big media world that maybe had forgotten that the copyright monopoly they enjoy is supposed to have the point of encouraging creativity; we grant a copyright because we think people won’t create without a financial incentive. (Tbh, there’s a lot of doubt that that is actually a true thing to believe, given all the free fic and art that gets produced daily, but anyway, it’s what the law decided several centuries ago before the internet was a thing.) Copyright is a balance, between those who hold the copyright and the rest of us, and the rest of us aren’t just passive consumers, we have creative powers of our own, and we might also want to do some cool things. And this case sees that. None of us are starting in a creative vacuum, after all; we’re all in this playground together.

#copyright #copyright law #legal #long post

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lilyclawthorne · 2 years

Text

No Clouds Allowed In The Sky, Ch. 1

“Clear skies” had been her life’s motto, it was the only thing she had at times to keep the lid on her emotions, and keep the weather outside from becoming disastrous. Totally an effective solution to her problem with no foreseeable issues, right?

————————————————————————

5 times Pepa’s emotions cause her to lose control + 1 time she can finally let them out

Ao3 Link

Word Count: 2406

A/N: I started this as 5+1, realized I was writing way more for the first section than I usually would for a 5+1, thought I should make this just a one shot, then decided “fuck it. let’s make a multi chapter 5+1”, so each chapter will be one of each of the moments.

Also to explain why I chose the title, I kinda imagine when Félix said that line in “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” it was a way of pointing out that it wasn’t just that there weren’t any clouds in the sky, but he could see Pepa was struggling to keep them from happening because in her mind they weren’t allowed to be there even though she wouldn’t say it like that, and I feel like that’s a good way to sum up the idea behind this fic. Moments when she struggled to keep the emotions in that weren’t “allowed”.

1. Age 5

The Madrigal triplets may have only been 5 years old, but they were already no strangers to their responsibility to help out their community. (For the most part.) Ever since they had each received a gift only a month earlier, their Mama had taken them into town often to share their miracle as best as they could. At first it was mostly Pepa and Bruno trying, with Julieta tagging along behind them. They had known her power had to do with food, but it took a week or so before any of them had figured out what it was exactly.

Then one day Pepa came running back to their Casita, tears in her eyes after slipping in mud and scraping herself all up. While their Mama sat her down to clean her up and dress her wounds, her sister tried to cheer her up with one of the baked goods she had made earlier in the day. They all watched in wide-eyed amazement as every cut and bruise healed itself instantly. Pepa remembers how proudly their Mama looked at Julieta, a look she knew neither her nor her brother had yet to receive. Her sister’s gift was one that could truly help people.

It also didn’t take much practice for the older triplet to figure it out either. Once she was taught a few recipes it had been pretty straightforward from there. For Bruno and Pepa, it wasn’t so easy. Bruno struggled to figure out how to have visions at his own will, and they came sporadically and at the most inconvenient of times, often offering information that was unremarkable and sometimes even unpleasant. Their Mama thought perhaps Pepa could help with the farms, it had been so dry out and the crops were in desperate need of water if only she could just make it rain for them. But it became a bit of an unethical conundrum when they soon realized they could only get her to do so if they made her cry.

The days passed by and more often Mama is bringing Julieta to town alone, leaving Casita to watch over the other two and keep them in the home as they struggled to figure out how to control their own gifts.

One day, after they’ve all had breakfast and their Mama and sister have headed off to town, Pepa finds herself very bored, Bruno having run off somewhere in the home before she could bother him. She plans to return to her own room, but stops short at the top of the steps, sitting down and wondering whether she can get Casita to make a slide today. It’s not as much fun without her siblings though, and a slight cloud forms over her head, and more in the sky as she thinks about how much she hates being left alone.

Lost in thought, she fails to notice her own brother sneaking up right behind her. Carefully he creeps forward until he grabs her shoulders and yells behind her, eliciting a shriek from the girl, and the sounds of thunder and rain begin in her cloud.

“Brunoooooo!! You’re lucky I didn’t zap you!!” She warns him, getting up to chase after her brother who is already running away. It turns into a game as the two kids run around and play, the sounds of laughter replacing the sound of thunder. They’re running back to where they began when Pepa realizes the floor is still wet from her own personal rain cloud.The warning she tries to give her brother comes too late, as he only whips his head around, not stopping until he slides on the water and crashes forwards into a wall. Hard. Their short lived moment of sunshine gives way to more clouds as Pepa begins to panic.

“Oh no no no no!! Bruno are you okay??” She practically yells as she rushes to his side.

He groans, slowly turning around and trying not to cry, “I don’t think arms can usually bend this way.”

Pepa nearly faints at the sight of his broken limb. His ankle looks bruised and swollen as well. The clouds outside become darker, and the sight of them only makes her more nervous. She’s running her hands through her braid over and over again, an anxious habit she only recently picked up.

“This is bad, this is so bad, this is very not good,” she’s saying to herself, beginning to pace around the floor in front of her brother. Bruno briefly wishes he could grab her by the arms and make her stop. There’s no need to worry, not when their sister has a super awesome healing power and had been cooking up a storm the night before.

“Pepa.” No response. “Pepa, it's okay.” Not listening. “PEPA STOP.” She finally snaps out of it, surprised by Bruno’s yell. He apologizes for being loud, but tells her his plan. All she needs to do is go downstairs and find some of the food Julieta had made yesterday. No one would have to know. She blinks, slightly calmer, and slightly embarrassed she hadn’t thought of it herself.

Turning on her feet, she starts scrambling down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Casita has already found a towel from somewhere and dried up the rain from earlier to prevent a second accident from happening, but still has to put in a little extra work anyways to make sure the girl doesn’t trip and fall as she rushes.

Bruno waits for his sister to return, still in pain but handling it impressively well for a 5 year old. He knows his sister hates to disappoint their Mama, and definitely was scared of getting in trouble for this. So he kept a cool head, wanting to be the calm to her storm. But soon he begins to worry too. Pepa is taking much longer in the kitchen than expected, and he knows something is wrong when it really begins to storm outside. She comes running back, crying and empty handed.

“They took all of Julieta’s food to town today,” she yells. Bruno is out of ideas, and is frankly beginning to become more concerned and slightly impressed with the weather outside. He knew his sister could make it rain, but no one knew she could have this much power. She follows his eyes upwards to the sky and jumps at the sight before her, absolutely terrified at the realization that she was the one causing all of this. Everything felt unreal to her, the space around her was spinning, and she began to feel like she couldn’t breathe despite the rapid gasps of air she was already taking in.

Bruno is scared for his sister. She’s not really responding to him anymore, and he just wants to help her calm down, help her figure out how to handle her emotions, but he is just as inexperienced with this as she is, and doesn’t know how to help yet. He feels helpless as he can only sit and watch his sister suffer through her very first panic attack.

——————————————

Alma Madrigal knew something was wrong. When she and Julieta had left this morning, the weather had been nice and slightly cloudy. The sun had even fully come out for a short while in the middle of the day. There had been no signs that a storm like this would be coming, and she had a strong feeling she knew exactly what the cause was. Or rather who the cause was. Everyone around them was packing up and rushing back to the safety of their homes before the weather could get worse. Julieta herself had barely filled her basket back up when her Mama grabbed her arm and began to rush them back to Casita.

It feels like it takes forever to get back, working against the wind and the rain. Alma briefly thinks to herself, How can a 5 year old cause this much damage? , and decides to carry Julieta the rest of the way so they can get there faster. By the time they’re entering the front doors they are completely soaked.

“PEPA!” She yells for her daughter, but she doesn’t see her kids anywhere, and there’s no response from her daughter. Any irritation the woman felt quickly turned into concern. She yells her daughter’s name again

“Mama?!” she just barely hears her son cry from upstairs, “Mama please help!!”

And she runs up those stairs as fast as she possibly can, briefly taking in the scene before her. Her Bruno is sitting under the awning that covers all the doorways, cradling his arm in pain. And her Pepa, sitting in the middle of the storm, eyes red from crying, still breathing rapidly, and a look of terror across her face. Her heart aches at the sight.

She crouches down in front of her daughter, gently places a hand on the girl's arm to let her know she’s there. When Pepa looks up at her, she starts to cry more,letting out a string of “I’m sorry!”s and “I didn’t mean to!!”s. The woman tells her it’s okay, starts to rub her back in a soothing motion, until the girl leans forward and her Mama embraces her tightly, offering her the comfort she so desperately needed. In reality, everything isn’t okay, but her daughter is scared, and she needs to take care of that first.

After moments pass full of comforting whispers and rocking Pepa back and forth, Alma can hear the rain lighten up into a drizzle. She lets her daughter stay in her arms as she moves on to Bruno, wincing at the sight of his broken arm, and the state of his ankle. Pepa doesn’t miss the look on her face. Julieta hasn’t moved from the spot where her Mama left her when they got home, waiting to hear what has happened or to see if she is needed. When her name is finally called she rushes up those stairs, basket in hand and it’s clear what she needs to do.

She hands a baked good to her brother who eats it readily and relief can be seen on his face as his injuries heal in seconds. She pushes a treat towards Pepa as well, who refuses it at first, but then reluctantly takes it when she sees the pleading look in her sister’s eyes. She takes a bite. The aches in her body and her sniffles from the rain disappear, but Julieta is confused when she still sees pain across her sister’s face.

She’s unable to ask about it though. Their Mama brings them to their own bedrooms, pulling out towels and clothes so they can dry off and get changed into something warm. Then she moves on, heading downstairs to start dinner. It’s a bit early to do so, but it’s been a long day and all the triplets will be tired.

Once it’s time to eat, the table is uncomfortably silent. Pepa, who usually loved to fill meals with loud conversation and noise, wouldn’t say a single word. Bruno tried to fill the silence with jokes, and Julieta tried to talk about some of the people she helped this morning, but none of it could overcome the awkward feeling left hanging in the air.

When the meal was over, and the dishes all cleaned up, Alma dismisses her children to their rooms. Just when Pepa thought she had somehow gotten away with the day's events and was following her siblings upstairs, her Mama stops her. She told her to come with her, and her face scrunched up with worry as she realized they were going to her Mama’s room. That always meant it was something serious. She cautiously trailed behind the woman as they made their way over, Pepa being sat on her Mama’s bed when they get there. Her little hand drifts back up to her braid to tug at it while she waits for the woman to speak.

“Pepa, mija, tell me what happened today?” Alma asked, the concerned look on her face from before returning. The girl mumbled her words and looked away from her Mama, worried she was about to be a disappointment to her Mama.

“Pepa, ” the woman’s tone changed, becoming more stern, “Your storm today caused damage, and we can’t let that happen again. I need to know how to help you.”

The girl let out a huff of air and began to speak up, “Me and Bruno were playing when he fell really hard and got hurt. I got worried, and then more worried because none of Julieta’s food was here and I couldn’t help him.”

She conveniently left out the part where he slipped on her rain water. She didn’t want her Mama to think that Bruno getting hurt was all her fault too.

Pepa began to speak faster, “But then we saw my gift happening and it was really scary looking this time and I got even more scared because I couldn’t stop it and then it just made everything worse and worse and worse and then I didn’t even know what was happening anymore but it felt scary like really really scary and-“

The girl could’ve kept on rambling, but her mother quietly shushed her.

“Have you been feeling like this more often lately?” A nod from the girl. “Did it get worse with your gift?” The girl paused for a moment, worried she’d sound ungrateful if she answered. Then, another slower nod.

“Ok, it can be worked on. Anytime you start to feel like this again, feel a storm coming on, I want you to take a deep breath, and try to keep all the bad from coming up by thinking about calm clear skies, alright? Say it with me, ‘clear skies’” Pepa did as she was told and spoke with her mother.

“Now off to bed, all three of you will come out tomorrow so we can help clean up any damage the storm may have caused. You can apologize to those who were affected as well for the accident.”

Fear gripped Pepa once more and tears began to prick the corner of her eyes, “They’ll hate me.”

“They will not. They might be upset, but that is why you must apologize and help clean up the mess. It’s important you learn to take responsibility for your actions.”

Pepa nodded along, not entirely listening as she was still scared for the next day to come and what might happen when she faced everyone. She said good night to her Mama and headed to bed. Instead of falling asleep, all she could do was try and keep making herself think of clear skies all night long.

#encanto #encanto fanfic #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #alma madrigal

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lululawrence · 3 years

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Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

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dangerous-mess · 3 years

Text

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 11

A/N: bit of a shorter chapter this time, so i was able to get it out quicker! scott pov again :)

Warnings: injury, fever, unconsciousness, mild amnesia, corruption/infection, self-blame, self-worth issues, talk of death

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was happening. He didn’t even register where he was at first, just heard faint but familiar voices. Then he was being lifted up, his head gently tucked into the crook of someone’s neck, and someone else’s delicate touch supporting his wings. Then some innumerable amount of darkness later, and he registered laying on something soft before there was a hand on his arm and a yelp. The yelp had sounded like Gem- had he made it to her empire? More murmuring voices, and Scott drifted out again.

The next time he drifted towards a more semi-conscious state, he was instantly filled with relief. He hadn’t really realized how warm he felt until something cool was placed on his forehead. If Scott had the energy to, he would have let out a grateful sigh. Then a hand gently ran through his hair, and Scott just about melted- in a good way this time, instead of the fever-warm kind. He must have made some sort of reaction, because he heard a half amused, half relieved chuckle from above him.

“I think the compress is helping,” the owner of the chuckle said- voice so devastatingly familiar but Scott’s brain was too fever-addled to remember who it belonged to. Inexplicably it made him think of slimeballs and glimmering scales, but he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

“Or playing with someone’s hair is the cure for corruption,” another voice teased. There was an indignant reply, a laugh from the second voice- but Scott sank into darkness again before he could decipher who either of the voices were.

Scott was shivering the next time he came to some semblance of awareness. Something soft was pulled over him, and whatever was put on his forehead before was adjusted. The hand in his hair was gone though, and he managed to make a distressed sound at that. There was a soft murmur, some comforting words that Scott couldn’t quite make out, but then there was a hand in his hair again and Scott sighed in relief. He managed to blearily blink his eyes open, and met the gaze of a pair of soft brown eyes wide with surprise and concern. The owner of the eyes had a mess of blond hair on his head, and somehow that felt wrong to Scott. The eyes he knew, but the hair… he felt like it was something he shouldn’t be seeing. But at the same time he felt he had seen it before, on a night with shimmering bronze details, dancing, and betrayal. But Scott couldn’t place why he remembered those things when looking up at the person gazing down at him.

“Easy, you’re alright. Let’s try and get some water in you, maybe a health potion too,” the devastatingly familiar man said. He shifted away from Scott, causing a distressed sound to leave his lips. The man chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna help you sit up a bit,” he murmured, doing just so and letting Scott lean on him when he couldn’t stay upright by himself. His wings reflexively stretched out, and Scott let out a relieved sound at the ache in his wings lessening slightly. An amused giggle came from somewhere on Scott’s other side.

“Guess we should probably make sure he’s not resting on his wings too much, huh?” the owner of the giggle said in a teasing tone. That got a semi-flustered nervous chuckle from the man holding him, who had started to gently prod Scott out from where he had been tucked into the crook of his neck. Scott made a displeased sound, trying to nuzzle into the man’s hold further. Another giggle sounded.

“Gem, stop laughing at me and help, he’s being clingy,” the man pouted. Wait- Gem? Scott knew that name. Why did he know that name?

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Jimmy,” the other voice- Gem, apparently, teased back. The name Jimmy definitely sounded familiar, it sparked butterflies in Scott’s stomach and reminded him of teasing banter and cocky smiles. The man- Jimmy- sighed and finally got Scott out from his hiding place in the space where Jimmy’s neck and shoulder met. His head was tilted back, and something cool was pressed to his lips. He eagerly drank down the water, earning him a gently reprimanding “slow down” from Jimmy. But soon the water was gone, and despite it helping him feel much better than before, Scott found himself incredibly drained of energy as he slumped back against Jimmy. He made a distressed sound as he felt darkness tugging at him again.

“It’s alright, you can rest. I’ll be right here, I promise. I won’t let you go, ever again,” Jimmy said with gentle determination. He wasn’t sure why, but Scott felt relieved at the assurance. His eyes slipped shut, and he dimly registered a hand smoothing out his feathers as he let the darkness claim him once more.

Scott’s next semi-coherent moment was one full of pain. It felt like there was fire spreading out from his forearm, all the way up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips. There was something pulsing and squirming beneath his skin too, in tandem with the pain in his arm. He let out a choked scream when someone touched his arm, the pain intensifying so much that Scott felt like he could barely breathe. Someone took his other hand, and there was a hand gently running through his hair. Scott relaxed ever so slightly at the familiar reassuring touches, even as tears of pain started streaming down his face.

“It’s okay, breathe Scott, you’ll be alright. Squeeze my hand if you need to, it’ll be okay. I’m here, I promised you I’d be right here, remember?” a voice said- and Scott wanted to remember. He wanted to remember this person’s reassurances, wanted to remember why this person’s voice inexplicably meant so much to him- but all Scott could do was scream as the pain intensified again.

“We have to stop, this is only hurting him,” another voice said, cool and collected with an undertone of worry. The pain stopped, and Scott sobbed in relief, his hand loosening the tight grip on the other person’s hand- when had he started clutching at him so tightly? His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his already blurry vision darkening at the edges.

“You’re alright, sorry about that, we thought maybe that would work. We’ll figure something out, I promise,” the first voice said, running a hand through his hair. Scott wanted to ask how this person was so confident that everything would be okay, but he passed out again before he got the chance.

The last time Scott woke up, he thought he was dead. This was the most coherent he had been in a while, but despite that, he somehow saw Jimmy sitting beside him, eyes closed with his cod head nowhere to be seen and a hand loosely clasped over Scott’s. Surely this had to be a dream, or some sort of bizarre afterlife where he saw visions of Jimmy actually caring about him. All those hazy memories from before, of someone Scott now definitely knew was Jimmy soothing him and reassuring him? That couldn't have been real. Why would it be? Scott had betrayed Jimmy. He shouldn't want anything to do with Scott… but that didn't mean Scott didn't want to enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

Jimmy suddenly stirred beside Scott, hand gripping his own a bit tighter and causing his heart to flutter. Soft brown eyes blinked open, hazy for a moment before they registered Scott staring right back. An elated, relieved grin came over Jimmy’s face, and Scott really must have been dead or dreaming to earn a look like that. No way that the real Jimmy would care about him that much after everything that Scott had done.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy asked softly, and Scott could only blink in confusion.

"Am I dead?" Scott blurted, voice hoarse from such little use. Jimmy let out a nervous chuckle at the outburst, shaking his head fondly.

"It was admittedly looking pretty bad… it's still not looking great if I'm honest- but your fever's finally gone down. So you're alive," Jimmy gently explained. Interesting. So maybe this was a fever dream then? But if this was real, and Scott really was going to be okay… he had so much he needed to say to Jimmy. He needed to explain himself, properly apologize for what he had done. He had to take this chance, even if it wasn't real so that Scott could at least finally live with himself- if he was even going to live at all.

"Jimmy-" Scott started, but was cut off with a choked gasp as pain suddenly flared in his arm, shooting all the way up to the top of his spine. It felt like there was something clawing inside him, trying to latch onto him and pull. He was suddenly gasping for breath, hands clutching at the sheets and at Jimmy’s hand.

"Scott? What's wrong, I'm here- Gem!" Jimmy called, standing up but still tightly holding Scott’s hand as he leaned over him with a worried expression. Scott was shaking now, trying to hold back whatever the hell it was clawing up towards his head. Tears sprung to his eyes as he gasped and shuddered, a death grip on Jimmy’s hand.

"I'm sorry," he managed to gasp through the pain. "Sorry" didn't even begin to cover it, there was so much more that Scott wanted to say- but the whatever it was suddenly latched onto Scott’s mind, like claws digging into his skull and forcefully pulled. His body seized one last time with a cry before going limp, his hand loosening his hold on Jimmy’s as well, and his eyes fluttered shut.

And then Scott saw nothing but red.

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck.

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless @northernpunk @pascalesque @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 @bii-aan-ckaa @letaliabane @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorianalso @supernaturalgirl @metalarmsandmanbuns @purplepascal042 @asta-lily @greeneyedblondie44 @missswriter @juletheghoul @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1 @alliterative-albatross @absurdthirst @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot @pascalslittlebrat @sarahjkl82-blog @pedritobalmando @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish @feminist-violinist @jasmincita @pascalove @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 6: Firsts

24 fics under the cut

Sometimes Things Just Work Out | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,027 Main Tags/Warnings: arranged marriage, angel Cas, royalty AU, mistaken identities Summary: Castiel is not looking forward to being forced to marry this Prince Dean person. The angel had never met him, never even laid eyes on him. For all he knew, the marriage would be miserable. Now, this human who's trying to hide in Castiel's room? It made Castiel wish that he wasn't going to be part of an arranged marriage, because he was really starting to like this green eyed stranger.

Through the Night | @smokerdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,147 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel Out of the Empty, Soft Epilogue, First Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sharing a Bed Summary: The motel is the same as thousands of others Dean has stayed in over the course of his life, but it's different, it's better, because he is here with Cas.

The Report Card | @fpwoper

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,211 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time, Crack Fic, Blow Jobs Summary: The morning after Dean and Cas first fool around, Dean finds a honest to god report card.

Dragon's Den | @fpwoper

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,280 Main Tags/Warnings: First Date, Dragon!Cas Summary: Dean and Cas's first meeting is in a coffee shop they randomly chose. It's just... a little dragon heavy.

Taking one for Team Free Will | @fellshish

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,560 Main Tags/Warnings: First kiss, pov dean winchester Summary: There’s a spell that requires an angel’s kiss to work. Dean takes one for the team.

Cannibal Queen | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,683 Main Tags/Warnings: creature!Castiel and creature!Dean, first time, porn with plot, virgin Castiel, mild gore Summary: What's a zombie to do when he finds out his (pretty hot) roommate and best friend is a vampire? In the case of Dean Winchester, the plan is to convince said vampire that they should team up and heist slaughterhouses. But when a run goes wrong, there are some unexpected consequences...

A Sign of Affection | @clarrisani

Rating: General Word Count: 2,159 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, Fluff Summary: Castiel learns that different kisses mean different things.

9x06 coda : I'm sorry | @allofmystudentsrunaway

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,288 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Masturbation, Angst with a Happy Ending, AngstEmotional Hurt/Comfort, fanfic gap Summary: fan fic gap first time.

The blonde-haired witch and the little push | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,830 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Witches, Oblivious Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed Summary: It’s not the first time Dean’s ever had to listen to someone referring to Castiel as “his boyfriend”, but it sure as hell is the first time he has to sit through a diner listening to a witch referring to Cas as his husband without even batting an eyelash, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Which would be fine if it didn’t cause actual shivers to run down his spine. (or the one where a friendly witch gives Dean the little push he needs)

Every Part of You | @the-communist-unicorn

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,097 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Panty Kink, Married Dean/Cas, Explicit Sex (but non-penetrative so there's no top or bottom), References to Homophobia Summary: Cas discovered his husband's secret completely by accident, but now that he knew, he wasn't just going to let Dean shove it back in that shoe box like it was something to be ashamed of. Every part of Dean was perfect and beautiful, and Cas might have just discovered a kinky side of himself too.

Whiskey and Wifi | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,401 Main Tags/Warnings: Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Dom Sub Undertones, Neighbors, Castiel Has A Panty Kink Summary: Cas may have lost a WiFi connection, but when he makes his way over to his neighbors house, he ends up gaining something much better.

At Last! | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,617 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Best Friends, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Airports, First Kiss, 5+1 Things Summary: Five times Dean kept his mouth shut, and one time he didn’t.

OUR FIRST TIME | @cooloddball

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,920 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Smut Summary: Dean & Cas' first time together

Ghost Town Saints | @nothing-but-dreams

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,010 Main Tags/Warnings: College, House Party, Beer Pong, Marijuana, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Trans!Castiel, Supportive Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: College is out for summer vacation, and that means Cas is back home with his family. Ever since he came out as trans, things have been tense, to say the least. After yet another argument with his parents, Cas needs to clear his head. Luckily, his best friend Dean is just a text away. Dean suggests the two of them escape reality for a bit and hit up a party being held at Ghost Town. As they drink and get high, they realize their feelings for each other run deeper than friendship.

It Started With Arousal | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,260 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, angel Cas, alpha Cas, omega Dean, soul bonds, virgin Cas, porn with plot Summary: It was when Castiel violently slammed the demon into the wall mid-fight that he felt it. The bond he had with Dean ever since he pulled the omega out of Hell had been getting stronger lately, but this was the first time that Castiel truly experienced an emotion that wasn't his own. He had expected something like this to happen eventually, but there was no way he ever would have expected such a feeling at a time like this. Dean was… aroused? He spared a quick glance at the hunter, meeting green eyes but seeing nothing that might cause said arousal. When three more demons kicked through the door to enter the room and the fight, Castiel promptly forgot the confusing emotion. For the time being, at least.

Kiss Me | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Humor, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean’s spur-of-the-moment ideas aren’t always the best, as lots of people are able to attest. And his last one really took the cake. Because now he’s unable to forget the taste of Castiel’s lips and he’s got no freaking clue how to deal with this.

Kiss at the Drive-in | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,380 Main Tags/Warnings: fluff and smut, getting together, drive-in cinema, semi-public sex, car sex, non-penetrative sex, handjobs, shy!Dean, dirty dancing, implied Bottom!Dean Summary: When Dirty Dancing airs in a Drive-in Cinema near the Bunker, Dean really wants to go with Castiel. Of course only because Castiel’s education about movies is still bad. Not like it’s a date. Sadly.

Swayze Always Gets A Pass | @kingdumbass

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,766 Main Tags/Warnings: Bunker Fic, First Kiss, Drunk Dean and Cas Summary: After Dean and Cas get into an argument over a case, Dean tries to apologize by asking Cas to Netflix and chill. Featuring: Cas the movie critic, his drunk friend, Dean, and Dean's tired brother, Sam.

Y Tu Dean Tambien | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6,909 Main Tags/Warnings: High School AU, Geek Dean, Closeted Bi Dean, Pan/Possibly Demi Cas, Referenced Homo/Biphobia, Low/No Angst, Implied/Referenced Consensual Underage Non-Penetrative Sex, Nothing Explicit, Happy Ending Summary: Dean Winchester has a crush. A great, big, secret, gay crush. Okay, more like a great, big, secret, bisexual crush, if we’re being technical. Either way though, the relevant word here is secret, because Dean lives in Kansas, which isn’t exactly known for its thriving LGBT community. In fact, he’s pretty sure most of his neighbors don’t actually know what LGBT stands for and he’d be willing to bet that if asked, at least a solid 10% would think it’s a sandwich. So yeah, nobody knows that Dean’s spent the past six months crushing on Cas Novak, the sexy junior in his Spanish II class, and it’s damn well going to stay that way. “Hola, Señor Winchester,” murmurs a gravelly voice in Dean’s ear, straight out his dirtiest fantasies and close enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, as Dean suppresses a shiver. The smirk on the mouth housing that goddamn sinful voice tells him that while he may have resisted the full-body shudder, his red cheeks did not go unnoticed by the boy sliding fluidly into the desk directly behind him. “Hey, Cas.” Nobody knows about Dean’s crush except for Cas, that is. Cas definitely knows.

Game of Survival | @sorajinsei

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,317 Main Tags/Warnings: Suspense, Alternate UniverseThriller,Alternate Universe - Purge, Demonic Possession, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies Summary: Who's in the shadows? Who's ready to play? Are we the hunters? Or are we the prey? There's no surrender and there's no escape.

Talk Therapy | shara (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,309 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time Bottoming, Rimming, Communication Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, ALL the issues Summary: "Alright fine, you can put a finger in me," Dean says one night while watching Cas go down on him. Cas pops his mouth off Dean’s dick and stares at him. "I never said I wanted to put a finger in you," he says slowly, and then stops and tilts his head. "Do you want me to put a finger in you?" ~~~~ Dean comes to terms with this thing with Cas, and with himself.

Bind Me To You | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,184 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Public Blow Jobs, Mild Kink, Condoms, Mutual Pining, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Light Bondage, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing, Happy Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation Summary: Dean and Cas meet in a one night stand, but lust, chance and eventually more bind them together.

Tempered Desires | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,013 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pandemic, Baker Dean, Dean has ADHD, Recreational Drug Use, Meet Cute, First Date Summary: Dating, sex, and finding love were the farthest things on the minds of both Dean and Castiel. There were more important things to worry about - namely the pandemic that swept across the globe and changed everything. Navigating this new environment was hard enough without adding romance. But fate never intervenes when you expect. From first meetings to first dates, we'll see how Dean and Castiel's relationship blossoms despite the circumstances.

Put That On A T-Shirt | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,524 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean’s First Time With A Man, Blowjobs, Top!Dean/Bottom!Cas, Semi Public Sex Summary: Getting blindfolded and blown by a random dude his girlfriend knew didn’t exactly sound like an ideal Sunday for Dean, until it actually happened.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 6 #firsts #destiel #supernatural #fanfic #saving blogs; queuing things; the tumblr business

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