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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 10 days

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⚡ Birds of a Feather: Flock Together

Flock Together: Vanessa Hunter, part human and part hawk, has felt love and hurt, friendship and hatred, and had sworn off all men since the one time she allowed her heart to get stolen resulted in said man running off with it and never returning. She is now cold, calculating, and every bit of a bird of prey as the one she fused with. With her wings now fully matured, Ness is a force to be reckoned with, and God help anyone that she sets her sights on.

Warnings: Language, Fighting Sequence, Gore.

To Note: Eobard Thawne x NAMED!Reader.

Word Count: ~5.0k

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“I’m sorry, what part of ‘let me handle it’, did you not understand?” You questioned in your radio as you stood on top of Central City's tallest building, one foot up on the ledge of the roof. Cisco and Barry stammered over the radio while Caitlin started laughing at their expense.

“But Ness, I’ve dealt with them before, what’s so different about dealing with them this time!?” Barry whined at you while you rolled your eyes so hard you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of your brain.

“Remember what happened last time you tried to take them on?” You queried. “Pretty sure that involved a broken leg…”

While Barry floundered for an answer, your eyes caught sight of the movement you were waiting for, a getaway van in the middle of a bank heist headed your way. Several cop cars were in pursuit behind it as it swerved through the city.

“Getaway car is headed your way,” Harry’s gruff voice said over the squabbling and laughter of your friends. “You have eyes on it?”

“Yep,” you replied, focusing your sights on the swerving car. “Intercepting in ten.”

“This puts you ahead by eighteen, I guess that means Allen and Ramon are going to owe you even more Big Belly Burgers.” Now that put a smirk on your face, even after working with those two for a few years, they still bet against you. At this point, you would have thought that they would have learned by now you were always going to come out on top.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you returned, your smirk growing as you shifted your weight onto the leg that was on the edge of the rooftop and propelled your body into the air. Falling through the air at high velocity as the van got closer and closer, you snapped your wings out at the last minute, softening your landing as your feet hit the hood of the van, and your body weight and momentum had the car screeching to a stop.

Crouching on the now very ruined hood of the van, you stared at the driver of the van who was clutching his bloody face from slamming into the steering column. Standing up as the back doors opened and armed robbers tumbled out in various disarray, you stepped off the van and landed on the balls of your feet.

Guns went up and they started firing at you, your wings snapped forwards blocking out the gunfire with the air of Cisco’s shield tech. Flattened bullets tinkered to the ground for a few seconds before you were moving. Grabbing the shirt of the first robber, you threw him hard into the side of the van, denting the car and making him grunt in pain before flopping to the ground.

He made the terrible mistake of getting back to his feet. Your nails elongated into talons as you shot forwards, sinking them into his shirt and tearing the material. This time you slammed him up against the van and went full on hawk in his face. He let out a scream as you brought your talons back and slammed them into the paint job of the van, tearing into metal and dragging them down.

“That will be you if you so much as move,” you hissed at him, his eyes were wide as he nodded quickly and your ears picked up on the sound of him pissing himself. Giving him one last shove and twirled around.

Dropping into a low spin, you swiped your leg out to catch the next robber's ankles and knock him off his feet. While he was on the ground, you grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his stomach, twisting his arm around until he cried out in pain. Snatching his other wrist, you jerked them together before slapping a set of cuffs on him.

“Stay put,” you ordered the moaning man before rising and looking for the last robber. He was currently booking it down the street. Flaring your wings out, you leaped into the air, gaining about twenty feet before diving for the runner. You were on him in seconds, sending him crashing to the asphalt face first. While he was groaning in pain, you slapped your last pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“Don’t you know running from a bird of prey does little good?” you questioned him as you hauled him to his feet. Police cars finally came screeching around the corner and surrounded the ruined van. Dragging the struggling robber over to the police officer, you passed him off before assessing the damage done.

The van was totaled by you jumping on it and crushing the engine, but other than that, there was not property damage, and no civilians had been injured. While the police officers locked the robbers in the backs of the police cruisers, you went to the back of the van to take stock of what had been stolen.

It was the usual bank heist items, money, jewels, a few bars of gold, and a few watches from the civilians unlucky enough to get caught up in the heist.

“Well get those watches returned to their owners and see that the bank gets this back,” A cop said as he walked up next to you and took a peek into the van.

“Please do,” you responded shortly before turning away and walking so you had space to take off without hitting anyone with your wings. “Heading back, CCPD taking control.”

“Good, maybe you can get these two to shut up,” Harry huffed back at you while you tolled your eyes. “And we’ve got company, not the good kind.”

“What has Barry gotten us into this time,” you growled out before taking flight, startling a few police officers at your sudden exit. Fast tracking your way to the lab, you closed your wings a few feet from the ground, dropping the rest of the way down. Your boots hit concrete and bouncing up, you strode into the lab, noticing a strange humming sound echoing in the night air. It was probably related to whatever company you had.

Feeling the air condition your neck and blow the hair that had slipped from your tight bun, you stalked your way towards the cortex, your senses already picking up on a change in the air. Your bird senses were shrieking that someone was in your nest who shouldn’t be.

Slipping your hand under the high collar of your suit, you rub your hand across the prickled hairs on your neck. It had been years since you had felt this on edge, the day when you found out that your boyfriend, with whom you shared several intimate moments, wasn’t who he said he was. You had felt betrayed, angry, hurt, but nothing hurt more than when it felt like he had run off with your heart when he was erased from existence.

You were over it, you had to be. It wasn’t that hard to do; you let the bird in you go free, and she ripped through meta like they were cheese until you both had fully matured into a fully grown Cooper’s hawk. Gone were your speckled and striped brown wings, replaced with steel blue-grey wings and red-striped under feathers.

With maturity came coldness, calculation, and an innate ability to observe and strike long before your presence was even known. You knew that your friends found it off-putting at how hawkish you seemed at points, but sometimes it paid not to feel rather than shrivel from the sting of a broken heart. Then again, sometimes you felt like you didn’t have one… Eobard, for all intents and purposes, had run off with it. Coming to a silent stop just outside the cortex, you could already pick up on the presence of several people you didn’t know.

“…and I’m telling you, she is going to tear your throat out if you so much as piss her off,” Harry grunted smugly at someone. Your lips ached to twitch into a smirk, but keeping them pressed into a flat line, you stepped out of the shadows.

“Anyone I know?” you enquired, your eyes quickly scanning the group of people, noting those you didn’t know, before looking at Team Flash, and how defensive they seemed.

“Good, you’re here,” Cisco sighed out in relief before pointing at you. “This is Nike, she is the most badass woman on this planet, and as Harry explained, piss her off and she’ll rip your throat out before eating you.”

Who knows what was going on, but you found this interesting so you decided to play along.

“Hmm, I prefer to start with the kidneys rather than the throat,” you draw out with an air of haughtiness and give them a predatory smile, your tongue swiping across your teeth in a sensuous yet hungry act. “Fresh is best after all.”

Cisco blanched at your words while Barry actually went white. Caitlin looked uncomfortable with your words, and Harry had a small smirk on his lips, he too was enjoying this. Moving your eyes to scan the group that had your friends so uptight, your eyebrow shot up.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” you muse, putting a hand on your hip and scanning each man with your gold eyes.

You knew Leonard; you had met him before when you were still a fledgling, and he was gawking at you, his eyes telling you he liked what he saw. Moving on, the next man, wearing a full suit, Malcolm Merlyn of Star City, Oliver’s enemy. Intense light blue eyes met yours with cool curiosity; you sensed something about him, he was no ordinary man. Lastly, your eyes flickered over the leather jacket-wearing blond man your bird was shrieking in your head at.

He had the same energy around him as Eobard; you guessed he was a speedster, a smug arrogance to him that also told you he was intelligent. Yes, you think you knew exactly who he was just by staring at him, but years of meditation and practicing control helped you keep all your emotions bottled up.

“Anyway, try to cross us and I’ll sic her on you, she’s got the talons to do what she said she’d do…” Cisco finished as you started walking over to Harry. As you passed him, you caught his eye, giving him a look that said ‘we need to talk’. Harry got the hint, and relaxing from his rigid, arms crossed position, he followed you out of the room.

“So, this is the shitstorm Barry got us caught up in?” you questioned, pulling down your scarf that covered your face up to your eyes. Harry let out an agitated huff.

“It would seem, it's bad enough to be stuck in a room with the man who pretended to be me,” he growled out before running his hands through his messy hair. “There’s a threat to the timeline again; it involves some immortal. They’ve come to ask if we’ll help them and the Legends.”

“And why aren’t the Legends asking us instead?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. “You know, the actual good guys who we trust?”

He huffed at you once more.

“I asked the same thing; they’re busy setting things up in other cities, the Legion of Doom I think they're called. Snart, Merlyn, Darhk, and Thawne, Legion of idiots if you ask me… they came with some device that will act as an energy dampener to mitigate his power. We need to get it to the highest point in the city.”

“Hmm, that would be the weather array on top of the Merickson building,” you mused, thinking about all the places you liked to brood on.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Harry responded in agreement. “According to the schematics of the array, there will be an assembly box near the tip where several sensors are. You can attach the device there and use the electrical from the weather array to connect the data back to the lab.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you echoed before tapping your fingernails on your leg. Harry narrowed his eyes at you before spending a few moments studying you.

“You okay, Vanessa?” you chewed your lip before shaking your head.

“My bird is going to give me a migraine with how much screeching she is currently doing, and I feel like tearing someone's throat out with my teeth,” you explained dryly. “I’d really rather not talk about how I’m feeling when my ex is in the building.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d pick up on who he is,” Harry grunted before nodding his chin at you. “If you need to skip out, Jesse is always up for a visit from you.”

“Tempting,” you respond, your lips curving slightly. “But I don’t run from my problems, I tear them apart.”

“And as pleasurable as I would find that, I don’t think ripping him apart would do you any good.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do about it?” you question, flinging a hand out. “Preen and pine like a love-sick bird? News flash, Wells, I’m a bird of prey, I don’t do sob stories.”

“I’m not saying that’s what you need to do, I’m just saying that you giving into your hawk DNA isn’t helping you. You’re losing yourself, and I may be a grumpy, cynical, conceited ass, but I don’t want to see you go down that road.”

“It may be already too late for that, Harry,” you answer honestly, your gold eyes flickering up to his. “Because it’s so much easier to give into my bird, than continue living knowing I poured everything I had into one man who wasn’t even real.”

“You know I do worry about you, Ness,” Harry says as you turn on your heel and start walking back towards the Cortex.

“I’m aware!” you toss over your shoulder. “And you shouldn’t, I’m not worth your time.”

Leaving Harry to grumble and stew about your noxious, self-destructing behavior, you enter the Cortex and march right up to the city map on one of the computer screens.

“You and Harry figure this out?” Cisco asks, bouncing over to you as you pull up the engineering schematics of the Merickson building.

“Yes,” you answer as you magnify the top of the weather array. “Our plan is to attach the device to the tip and connect it to the weather module; we can get access to the device through the building’s electricity.”

“Cool, cool,” Cisco responds as Caitlin walks over and peers at the screen.

“That’s the highest point in the city?”

“I should know,” you remind her before glancing up and looking at the four men. “I don’t suppose you had the brains to bring the device with you?”

Leonard snorts and gives you an eye roll as the one you deduced to be Damien Darhk pulls out a box in the shape of a hexagon, no bigger than a half gallon of milk.

“Hmm, maybe you aren’t all idiots after all,” you muse under your breath, making Cisco snort. Walking around the desk, you head for Darhk, taking the device from his gloved hand as you pass. “I’ll get to it then,”

Naturally, everyone starts following you out to the back entrance you had made your landing and take-off pad.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Nike, would you care to explain how you plan on getting that device to a building hundreds of feet into the air? Do you plan on growing a pair of wings?” While his words seem flippant, he does genuinely seem to wonder how you are planning on getting this device attached to a weather array over six hundred feet in the air.

Stepping out so you have room to stretch your wings, you glance over your shoulder while twisting your lips into a curved smirk.

“As a matter of fact, Mr. Darhk,” you reply, equally flippant with your answer as you pull up your scarf to cover your nose and mouth. Unfurling your wings, you watch in satisfaction as faces morph into surprise and awe. “I do.”

With one last teasing smirk, you turn around and give your blue wings one heavy beat, slingshotting yourself into the night sky. En route to the Merickson building, the radio in your ears crackles to life.

“That was awesome!” Cisco bursts out in glee. “Like a total mic drop moment, Ness!”

“Glad you approve, Cisco, I’ll be at the array in thirty, get Harry on the line and I’ll get my specs ready.”

“Copy that,” Flapping higher and higher, you finally get sight of the long array sticking off the Merickson building, and with careful percussion, you fly yourself straight for the tip, wrapping your legs around it so you are secure while you work.

“Ready?” Harry’s gruff voice crackles in your ear. Reaching for your belt, you pull out your special specs for when it rained, which also contained a camera Harry should use to see what you were doing, and slipped them over your eyes.

With Harry speaking in your ears, you manage to get the device attached in under half an hour, being careful not to cut or nick any existing wires, or mess with anything else for that matter. When Harry is finally satisfied with your wiring job and that the device is stable on the array, you push yourself from the tower and flap your wings, sending you up and out.

“You coming back to the lab?”

“No, I’m heading home for the night,” you respond. “Haven’t gotten my dark brooding in for the night.”

“Alright… just think about what I said, will you? You are one of the only people here that I actually like.” Harry sighs, and you can practically imagine him rubbing his forehead.

“Night, Harry,” you reply softly before ending the call and removing the specs from your face. Angling your wing, you swoop to the left, gliding lightly in the direction of your house. Two minutes later, you are dropping through the air, your feet touching down in your backyard.

Pulling your wings into your back, you head for the back sliding glass door while pulling out the key to unlock it. Stepping into your house, you pull your scarf down and run a hand over your hair with a heavy set sigh. Heading to your bedroom, you quickly strip yourself out of your Nike outfit and change into a tank top, sans bra since the things were uncomfortable, and a pair of comfortable shorts.

You fix yourself one of Caitlin's shakes that she had concocted for you to fulfill your bird nutritional requirements and sit at your dining table. Sipping on your shake, you turn your eyes to the book on bird genetics you had left open this morning. You spend a few minutes reading before your senses pick up on the fact that you are no longer alone.

“You have a lot of gall to show up here,” you murmur quietly, your hands slowly closing the book before you get to your feet.

“I’m aware,” His voice rings out as he steps out of the shadows. His blue eyes study your thin figure, and you can’t figure out exactly what he is thinking, but you know he is assessing you.

“Then why are you here? Because the urge to rip out your throat is one I’m feeling inclined to indulge in.” You coolly spit at him, your sharp eyes narrowing.

“Ness—“

“You lost the right to call me that,” you hiss, your eyes flashing brightly. “News flash, Eobard! I hate you! I hate you so much that I would gladly let my hawk rip your throat out and feast on your organs like some backwater Buzzard!”

“Vanessa,” Eobard corrects himself. “I know I hurt you, but I never wanted—“

“Hurt me?” You scoffed. “I loved you, I gave you everything I had and look what happened! It was nothing but lies and deceit! Well, I won’t ever make that mistake again.”

“This isn’t you, Vanessa, you are not vicious. Not like me, not like this,” you let out a cynical laugh and shook your head.

“You don’t know me, Eobard Thawne,” you told him darkly before shooting forward and sinking your talons into the front of his jacket. With a firm grip, you spun in a circle and threw him as hard as you could into the painting above your dining table. He crashed into the wall, shattering the glass and breaking some of the drywall.

He was on his feet in an instant, hands up in surrender.

“Vanessa, please, you are the most compassionate, caring person I have ever met, please—“ Your eyes blazed with fury and your blue wings extended from your back, crashing into furniture as they went.

“You don’t know me, Eobard Thawne,” you repeated in a voice not your own before shooting forwards once more, talons extended and ready to run through more than just fabric. He was moving too, trying to grapple your body. Twisting around, you punched him in the chest, sending him staggering back.

Going to kick him in the chest to really throw him back, Eobard caught your foot and pulled. You flared your wings out as far as they would stretch, not caring that you had sent a lamp crashing to the floor and broke it. With your right foot still in his grasp, you slammed your other foot into his face, catching him in the chin.

Eobard released your foot, allowing you to land back down on the floor, your wings beating behind you in anger. There was a red mark where you had kicked him, and that made you smirk in glee. Before you made your next move, he was rushing forwards, grabbing at your shoulders and trying to pin you against a wall.

Your back hit drywall and groaned in protest while you hissed at him. Reaching for his arm, you dug your talons into his flesh before jerking sideways, reversing your position and trying to get your hand around his neck. You were in full-on kill mode and a veil of red had fallen over your eyes, your bird would not be happy until you held his heart in your hand.

Your talons bit into his neck and left scratches that lightly bled, fueling your bloodthirst.

Eobard shoved you hard, making you fall backwards and slide on the floor, Broken wood dug into your shoulder and scraped it up while your skin took a beating. But you weren’t backing off. Using the momentum from his shove, you completed the backwards roll, tucking your wings close to your back before springing back to your feet.

“Vanessa, please, we need to talk about this, this bloodlust, it isn’t you,” Eobard said, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You are not a killer.”

By now, he was bleeding in multiple places from your talons, and your skin was scraped and turning a variety of colors from your proclivity to bruise, yet you felt a burning desire to continue, even if it meant death. So with a low, hawk-like screech, you grabbed the overturned leg of a side table and broke it off, twirling the splintered wood in your hand.

“Sorry, Vanessa hasn’t been home in quite some time,” you drawled out manically, your very being consumed with rage and a lust for blood.

Confliction in his eyes had your dark smirk widening as you started stalking forwards. Hesitation on his part would be your victory. Bringing your arm around, you threw the broken piece of wood right where his heart was. He zipped away before it could hit him, making the wood lodge into the wall behind where he had previously been standing.

Ducking into a low spin, you narrowly avoided his hands as he tried to grab you once more from behind. Clamping your talons into his wrist, you jumped up and twisted your body, catching his neck between your legs. Continuing your twist, you sent the both of you tumbling back to the floor, releasing his arm and trying sink your talons into his chest.

“You are not just your hawk!” Eobard yelled at you while his hands strained to keep your talons from puncturing his chest. He still wasn’t using his full power, most likely for fear of seriously injuring you, well, that would be his downfall. “You are still Vanessa Hunter.”

Snarling, you pushed harder, your talons scraping against the soft material of his shirt. Eobard let out a noise of frustration before zipping up to your feet and throwing you as hard as he could. You crashed into your bookshelf, one of the iron prongs on your deer antler bookend piercing through your shoulder.

Gasping out from the sharp pain in your left shoulder, you looked down at the pointed metal still just barely out of your skin. Your eyes flickered up to Eobard, who now had a horrified expression on his face.

“Ness, I—“

“Well, well, well,” you cooed out, your list twisting into a canary smile. You jerked your shoulder forwards, pulling yourself from the heavy metal bookend. “Look who finally decided to put up a fight, that’s the Eobard I know.”

Reaching back, you grabbed the bookend and lobbed it at his head as hard as you could. He dived out of the way, the antlers lodging themselves in the wall behind him. You pranced forwards, ignoring the sting in your shoulder and the blood that dripped down onto your spaghetti strap top and skin. Eobard let out a growl of irritation before zipping again.

Feeling his arms wrap around your body from behind, you tried to slam your elbows back into his gut, or at least claw at his body with your talons. His grip was strong, so you resorted to method two, your wings sprung from your back, separating your bodies.

Spinning around, you slashed at his throat with your extended nails, wanting more blood to be shed to sate the ever-present thirst. Your hand was batted away and Eobard lunged for you once more, only this time he didn’t go for your shoulders, but your wings.

You jerked backwards, trying to keep them out of reach, but he was faster. His hands clamped down on them with enough pressure to make you draw them in, and in seconds you found yourself pinned to the floor by your wings, your eyes flashing.

“Will you listen to me damn it!” He yelled into your face as you struggled beneath him.

“Go to hell Thawne!” You snarled in his face, trying to kick at his legs. He managed to pin those down with his own.

“I still love you, you obstinate, frustratingly beautiful woman!” Eobard bellowed in your face, your struggles paused as his words circulated in your brain. He sighed out and released your wings and arms, giving you the chance to rip away if you so chose. “I have never loved anything as much as I love you, and that is a fact that will always remain constant.”

The red haze clouding your judgment dissipated, leaving you feeling hollow from the emotions of rage and anger. That allowed the old emotions of pain, torment, and heartache to hit you like a tidal wave as your bird all but slipped from your body.

Your wings retracted as tears started running down your cheeks, and reaching up with your talonless fingers, you pressed the heel of palms into your eyes as you cried your heart out. The gut-wrenching feeling of loneliness was crippling and had you feeling exactly like how you had felt when your wings first came in.

Scared. Hurt. Alone.

“Ness…” Eobard’s soft voice only had your tears coming faster as your nails dug into your scalp and you sucked on every shuddering breath.

“I just want things to go back to how they were before I ever found out who you really were.” You sobbed, your throat feeling thick and your hands shaking. In less than a second, you found yourself standing in your ruined living room, your face buried in Eobard’s partially shredded shirt with his arm around your body as you sobbed.

Your fingers pressed against his chest, your human nails digging in this time while he ran a hand through your hair like he used to. His face pressed down on the crown of your hair while he repeated apologies, over and over. Gradually, your sobs turned to sniffles and your eyes had no more tears to shed.

“I tried so hard to hate you, but I can’t even do that,” you whispered as you lightened up your grip on his shirt. Slowly, Eobard slid his hands from your body to gently hold your cheeks, his thumbs brushing the wet tracks from your tears. Your red-rimmed eyes stared up into his unfamiliar face, yet familiar eyes.

“I have a feeling I will be apologizing for the rest of my life, and even then it won’t be enough,” Eobard said gently before pulling your head up and connecting your lips. It was almost too much to be kissing him again, you had spent so many nights wishing that you could just forget the way his lips felt against yours. It was in this moment that you realized how stupid you were to think that. Harrison Wells, Eobard Thawne, whatever he called himself, he was always going to be the tether that kept you connected to the ground, to your human side. Best friend, closest confidant, lover.

You know what they say about birds: Birds of a feather, flock together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Date Published: No Idea

Last Edit: 4/29/24

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#eobard thawne x y/n #eowells x reader #eobard thawne x reader #eowells #eobard thawne

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chimericchaos · 26 days

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Minor rant, yes I did just come from the Big Tugg video on how english is stupid and I entirely agree with him on that

What I do not at all agree with is the opening of the video entirely dedicated to hating children - he just goes out of his way to say "oh yeah before I start this video, I fucking hate kids" and then gives a list of things kids don't know, (because, they're kids) and dunk on them for not knowing stuff

And I find it kinda ironic the person who says that kids should not feel proud of learning- sorry, memorizing- the alphabet, also mispronounces the word Celtic not ten seconds later. Perhaps we all could learn a thing or two by expanding our general knowledge and studying cultures and languages outside our own?

Speaking of languages, side-tangent-within-a-side-tangent, removing s or k and compounding them both into c is a shit take that I'm seeing way too much, when the obvious answer is to get rid of c, it only functions as a replacement for s or k and in either function it creates unnecessary problems (it's really unnecessary for "unnecessary" to be spelt like that but different topic) and that's why a Bunch of fucking languages around the world do Not include a c, such as the language I was forced to learn since birth and Still cannot speak: Afrikaans. There is not a single c in that language and I have never had a spelling mistake from s or k ever. Other mistakes sure but not concerning those.

And you may be wondering "well why can't we just contract the sounds into less letters to save space in the alphabet?" Because while that would not necessarily be so bad, that shit gets real out of hand real fast the more you do it, and all I'm saying is don't come knocking when you can't spell doodle when your a's are also e's and your u's are also i's

Anyway back to the topic of hating kids

This may seem like a wildly specific rant about one youtuber mentioning it offhand once, but I assure you this is not the first time today I've heard this. I hear this multiple times a week. From different people

For some damn reason it's kinda always been a popular take to hate kids and openly talk about how much one would like to see them suffer, and I don't fucking understand it at all???

Like, ok, you find their constant questions and mumbles and movements and other weird sounds very annoying, cool, I find the several cats outside my window doing many unsavoury things to each other each and every night annoying but I still don't talk about it like it's ok to hurt them

And maybe we can take a moment to rationalize the fact that kids tend to ask a lot of dumb things and say a lot of dumb things, because they're dumb?? they have far less experience on this earth than anyone who knows the definition of "economy", and do not yet know how to do basic living shit like how to cook a whole ass chicken, and they don't need to just yet, that's the point

People who don't know shit are going to do and say things as a consequence of not knowing shit

And this is very much a long-winded vent about something that doesn't really effect me at all, but I do in fact see it as a personal problem because not too long ago I too was a kid that didn't know shit, and I was a piece of shit because of it, sure, but something I very much remember is having to deal with people who hated me simply for existing, and I no longer have to deal with people hating my existange as a child, yes, but I still have various other unchangable things about myself that people hate me for, so through that experience I don't think it's a good thing to hate kids just because they're kids, regardless of how annoying the youtube comments are, and at the very least if you're going to think the spawn of your fellow humans are actually the spawn of satan, please do not talk about like it's a normal ass thing

And hey, maybe there's also a part of my brain that has yet to even fucking register that I'm in my roaring 20's now, so that may be why when I come across people hating kids I feel personally attacked

So with that knowledge, if you say to me that you hate kids, for whatever reason, rest assured I already hate you

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brightgnosis · 1 year

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“Meme Sheep„

Stole this from @morgandria (original here) via the "way back dash" and figured I'd answer them myself for fun.

Please describe briefly your Path:

Currently shorthanded as "Noahidic NeoWicca" for the sake of brevity, because it's the easiest way to explain it. But it's ... Complicated.

Please describe briefly how you practice it:

In Tl;DR terms I worship HaShem as The All, Sovereign Creator (and Sum) of the Universe as a Noahide — and I venerate Adam and Chava (Eve) as the First Ancestors of Humankind as a Traditional Solitary NeoWiccan.

When did you first commit to your Path?

This path specifically? I started returning to NeoWicca in late 2020 / early 2021 and allowed myself to naturally traverse it without expectation or direction to see where I landed. It was roughly mid 2022 when I finally understood "who my Spirits were" finally, so to speak, if I remember correctly; time is a bit of a blur at this point and I have memory problems.

How is your practice different now than it was then?

My practice has undergone a million changes since I started in 2000 / 2001; I've gone from Standard NeoWicca to Eclectic NeoPaganism + Pseudo-Hindu wannabeism, to various formulas of Reconstructionism (Kemetic, Greek, Roman, Irish, Christo-Irish / Transitional Gaelic), and now here. All of them have taught me something integral.

Is your practice different today than how you thought it would be back then?

In many ways yes. But in many ways no- I've actually returned to what I originally was. Just with HaShem back in the mix ... But I think that was always going to be the case for me, having no trauma and no ultimate dislike, and always having maintained a beautiful relationship and inspiration there. I just now understand it all so much better (including myself).

Does your Path and core belief system differ now than how it was when you first started?

Actually, no. More than anything, I think I've better found the language to describe it, and the systems that it works within; the places I actually belong that I've really been searching for the whole time.

What are you still exploring or experimenting with?

My entire path; the whole thing it literally being built from the ground up.

How do you see yourself practicing in ten years?

I don't think that far ahead regarding religion ... Why would I? Honestly thinking that far ahead in a way that creates expectations has always just seemed incredibly weird to me.

What (or whom) are you the most committed to in your practice and on your Path?

Judaism, Noahidism, and learning it correctly.

What are your main influences for your Path?

Noahidism (and its conjoined Judaism) and Traditional NeoWicca are the two major religious areas. Then Mormon Folk Healing, Pennsylvania Braucherei, Slavic Folk Practice, and Continental German Folk Practice as major Ancestral practices. And Sabbatical and Traditional Craft (predominantly Schulke's and Oates' strains) as gap-fillers. Plus some minor influence from Irish / Gaelic Reconstructionism also remains.

What is your heritage and how does this inform your Path?

Ashkenazi Ukrainian, Germano-Slavic, and Ir-Scot. And yes, they very much do given the core of my practice (outside of HaShem) can easily be described as an overly complicated system of Ancestor Veneration and syncretism.

What is your relationship with the Land?

Budding; I've moved since I last had a significant relationship with my local Genius Locorum, and so I'm having to forge a new relationship with new Spirits. It takes a lot of time, and it isn't an easy process.

What is the most frustrating thing about your Path?

Currently being unable to practice a good majority of it because of my living situation.

What is one of the greatest obstacles or struggles you have had to over come?

My own immense imposter's syndrome in regards to how much I do actually know, and how much I am actually qualified (Witchcraft)- as well as whether I have a right or not to be in certain spaces (Noahidism); plus overcoming my trauma from years of religious and spiritual abuse inflicted by the Pagan community, and the agoraphobia it created.

Has walking your Path changed you as a person?

Of course it has. And if your religion hasn't changed or challenged you to be better as a person, then I'd bother to say that frankly you're doing religion wrong entirely; no one needs religion to be a good person. But all religion should challenge and change you. If it isn't? Then what you have isn't religion.

What values and ethics are important on your Path and in your practice?

Truth, Compassion, Goodwill, Good Faith, and Humanity.

How do you incorporate your practice into your life?

The same way any religious person should or reasonably would: I pray often. I attempt to live by the tenants of my religion. I stick to my values as best I can. I repent when necessary (or at the appropriate times). And I celebrate my holidays when possible; etc.

What sort of cycles do you feel your practice goes through?

The same as anyone else's: Activity (action and research) and Fallow (lack of action, lack of research; sometimes ever depression about direction).

One thing you wish people would understand about your Path and/or practice is:

You don't know nearly as much about Wicca as you think you do. In fact, you know virtually nothing at all about it; you'd benefit from actually listening to us when we speak about our own faith, instead of constantly beating your chest like Toddlers over your own pride.

Do you consider yourself to be a priest/ess? How so?

In the true Wiccan denominations, every initiated member is properly considered a Priestex of the tradition. So technically, yes. I am considered one according to the rules of my tradition. Personally, however, I consider actively calling myself one publicly a bit brash and tacky as a Solitary NeoWiccan with no actual formal Coven. So no, at the same time.

What do you feel is the role of clergy in modern Paganism?

The same as its role in any religion: To offer spiritual wisdom and guidance to the lay people in regards to their religion's teachings; and to lead their religious rituals and prayers.

Do you teach?

Yes and no; not formally. I don't have students. But I do advise on occasion through articles, comments, etc, from the perspective of personal experience, research, and thought. Some people appreciate it. Many don't. That's their prerogative.

Which do you do more: practice or research? Do you feel that one is more important than the other?

I definitely do more research at the moment- but only because practice is currently difficult for me due to my living circumstance. Once that changes (eventually) and I'm no longer locked into other peoples' nonsense, my practice will fill out so much more.

As for which is more important? Neither. And I think someone else (though I can't remember who now unfortunately) said it quite well, once, in comparing it to Chemistry: You can't do a Chemistry experiment without blowing your ass up if you haven't bothered to read the damned books ... But if you never actually make the potion? You're not actually a Chemist; both are required in equal measure.

Which matters more: getting the vocabulary right or the actual practice of what we are trying to define?

Both, because language is the core of our communication. If we are not on the same page with the terminology we use, there is no hope for clear and effective communication. Furthermore, if we continue to use harmful or damaging terminology that hurts outsiders, or even members of our own community, how can we honestly call ourselves good people or consider ourselves to be living by righteous values we claim? But at the same time ... In order to correctly define things, we also need to know what it is we are trying to define in the first place.

Do you consider yourself to be a witch? How so?

Once again, in the true Wiccan denominations, every member is a practitioner of magic, because magic is an integral part of the rites of our worship. I also do additional magical workings, rituals, and bits of spellcraft on the side- as well as folk healing. So yes.

The main purpose of ritual is:

Adoration of the Divine (or its substitutes), and attunement with the great mysteries of the Universe.

The most important aspect of ritual is:

Joy, mirth, and reverence.

Can you perform ritual without a script?

Absolutely not. Not just because of my general memory issues, but also because there are typically so many moving parts in a proper ritual (which is not the same as base spell work, though it seems the two are regularly confused for one another) that it is quite helpful to often have a "script" to ensure you don't miss anything, forget a step, or lose your place. Especially since things don't always go smoothly and you may need to deal with, say, a vial of oil spilled all over the Altar right in the middle of things before proceeding; the script doesn't have to be followed to a T, and there's still plenty of room for extemporization. But it does make things go more smoothly as a baseline.

Ritual / Magical tools are …

A symbolic physical aid to better focus and attune one's power when casting spells or performing rituals.

Have you ever preformed spontaneous magic / spellcraft?

Most of my small magic and spellcraft is spontaneous; I'm very much a ritualist when it comes to Rituals, but a Folk Witch when it comes to small craft.

Please tell us something stupid, reckless or embarrassing you did once in your practice:

I have nothing, because I'm genuinely not a stupid or reckless person. I'm not necessarily overly cautious, I do act quite spontaneously on my intuition a lot of the time. But I'm not careless, and only tend to act once I have full information to act confidently. And that has, in fact, saved me from a lot of stupid or careless mistakes over the years without stunting my growth.

I don't really count minor things like forgetting to wear a mask while boiling down Dead Nettle, or accidentally setting a small part of the yard on fire while trying to put more fuel on a ritual fire. Predominantly because those are generally small "brain farts" where I did know better and wasn't trying to be reckless or stupid- I just had a genuine brain lapse in the moment. And I feel no embarrassment from them; they're just normal things that happen on accident- and we all make normal stupid mistakes like that from time to time, even despite our best knowledge.

Have you ever been frightened?

Not really.

The one thing you can’t do without is ...

Candles and Prayer.

Politics and your Path are …

Innately intertwined and inseparable, unfortunately; there is no way to separate politics from religion (but especially not from minority religion).

Seeking personal power is …

Stupid.

What is the purpose of divination?

To see the future. To see yourself. To understand. To make better decisions.

What was the most difficult book you ever read (Either difficult to understand or hard to face what it said or both)?

Can't really name one, I'm sorry!

What book do you recommend the most to others?

It depends on the specific topic- in which case I have an entire library of recommended reading for beginners.

What is you favourite podcast (if any) and favourite blog (other than your own)?

I don't listen to podcasts about Wicca, Witchcraft, Paganism, or the Occult; I find most of them to be as bad as most books on the topic and tend to dislike them. Same with blogs.

If you could impart only one last piece of wisdom or knowledge, or share one experience with the world at large, what would it be?

Take it from someone who made this mistake and learned from it: You know less than you think you do, and you aren't as ready to teach or inform as you think you are. Despite what internet culture tells you, there's actually nothing wrong with that; there is nothing wrong with merely existing as a Human Being- normal, unspecial, and ultimately unoutstanding. It is ok to share your path as an exploration of self via journal, rather than a branding of self as commodity and product. You are Human. So allow yourself to be.

Please finish this meme with a picture, image or photograph of some sort:

🕯️“ Blessed are you, Adonai, Sovereign of the Universe and Source of all Creation, whose glory and might fills the World. Amein. „🕯️

This account is run by a Dual Faith «(Converting) Masorti Jew + Traditional NeoWiccan» & «Ancestral Folk Magic Practitioner» with 20+ years of experience as a practicing Pagan and Witch. If that bothers you, don't interact.

#Personal #Tag Games #2023 #A Direct Look At My Practice #Prayer & Adoration #Religion & Magic

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hyaina · 1 year

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RUGGIE BUCCHI: ACADEMIC ANALYSIS. PART I

note: inspired by toca’s analysis on trey.

cw: briefly mentioned spoilers, implied child labor, poverty (obvs).

I. PRE-NRU.

Ruggie Bucchi didn’t have a formal education prior to Night Raven University. His only education was through practical life skills, necessities that he needed in order to survive. (Ruggie Bucchi, SSR Birthday Boy, Part 3). He didn’t know what studying was– nevertheless how to study– and the qualifications of his invitation to NRU would be questionable, if not taking one’s potential into consideration.

Instead of a formal education, Ruggie focused himself through learning specific trades. It’s heavily implied that Ruggie’s childhood was spent trying to earn money rather than going to school; he did what he could to help his grandma put food on the table. When he wasn’t earning money, he looked after other neighborhood kids in the slums. As a child, he caught strange insects to sell on the streets (Ruggie Bucchi, Port Festival, Voice Lines) and, later, live-in jobs that provided three meals a day (Ruggie Bucchi, SSR Birthday Boy, Part 3).

AFFINITY IN LINGUISTICS— Ruggie’s diverse (and potentially illicit) work experience, often paired with having to be away from his hometown, nourished his affinity in linguistics. Ruggie canonically knows greetings and negotiation jargons in over ten different languages due to his work experience. Whether or not this includes various animal linguistics or not hasn’t been clarified.

As for magic, mages born from the slums are rare (Ruggie Bucchi, School Uniform, Voice Lines) and therefore opportunities to hone his magic were few and far between. I have my own personal interpretation of Ruggie’s history and involvement with magic, but I’d rather wait until TWST (hopefully) builds upon the political atmosphere of Sunset Savanna, as well as the nation’s history with overblots (Leona, Chapter 6) / potential misuse of magic.

Anyway, A future enrollment at NRU wasn’t even tangible enough for Ruggie to dream about— until the invitation came to him.

II. NIGHT RAVEN UNIVERSITY.

NO PAIN, NO GAIN! Night Raven University was the biggest culture shock to Ruggie, as well as the greatest test of will. It was time to sink or swim; he had to prove that he deserved to be here. As a student, he was the lowest of the low— uneducated and unrefined. He knew by intuition and sparse guidance, not theory and formula. Under Leona Kingscholar’s tutorship– as a facet of their give-and-take dynamic– Ruggie has managed to from scoring the lowest grades and to ranking just below-average. (Ruggie Bucchi, SSR Birthday Boy, Part 3)

Ruggie acknowledges that his placement at NRU is his golden chance. He takes his academics seriously, (Ruggie Bucchi, School Uniform, Voice Lines) but knows what his limits are. He knows that can’t be an honors student and it’s impossible to stretch himself thin by scoring high in every class. He puts his efforts to where it counts— getting a job, specifically in the field he specializes in.

Ruggie’s the happiest D-to-C average student. Despite some classes being a waste of time, and despite himself being academically slower than the rest— He enjoys classes, even if some can be boring. He enjoys the brief satisfaction of scoring well, of answering things correctly and proving that hyenas like him aren’t incompetent. Granted, being the insatiable person that he is, Ruggie isn’t going to settle for where he’s at academically-- He’s going to keep rising up! Nevertheless, he likes being at NRU; he won’t take this opportunity for granted.

PART II COMING SOON.

#🍩 ／ writing . headcanons !#( splitting this into parts bc the intro was long enough already. )#( cheering ruggie on... go hyena go...)

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kilopcor · 2 years

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Maps of barsoom

MAPS OF BARSOOM HOW TO

MAPS OF BARSOOM SERIES

MAPS OF BARSOOM HOW TO

Since creating my poster map of Barsoom in 2012, by compositing Schiaparelli’s Victorian-era maps of the Martian “canali” with a modern map of Mars by noted planetary cartographer Ralph Aeschilman, I have been puzzling over how to reconcile all those detailed maps of Mars made from 1876 through 1971, showing intricate networks of apparent canals, with the bleak and barren Mars we discovered with NASA’s Mariner and Viking missions in the 1970s, on which no such features can be seen. If you are a fan of Roleplaying Games, Burroughs Barsoom novels, the recent (grossly underappreciated) Disney film, or swashbuckling science fiction adventure in. VII - A General Barsoomian Glossary: Terms, Titles, Organizations, Games, Weapons, Buildings, Streets, Etc.For those of you who enjoyed my previous articles and maps of the planet Barsoom (Mars) from Edgar Rice Burroughs’ “John Carter of Mars” books, I have a new piece up with more cool maps, explaining what became of the Mars of canals and ancient civilizations. Jar Melo Giant Coloring Poster for Kids World Map Jumbo Wall Coloring Poster, 45.3' x 31.5', Learning & Education Toys Autistic Toys for Boys and Girls, Drawing Fun-Super Painter. it was really hard to get though Image details Image size 4863x2815px 29. Edgar Rice Burroughs drew crude maps to locate his John Carter's adventures, but he was not a cartographer. Since this map was created there have been multiple attempts to map Barsoom from various writers and publishers telling stories on Barsoom. VI - The Language, Religions, and Customs of Barsoom Map of Barsoom Published: By Motion-Music 82 Favourites 12 Comments 5K Views I did not make this, I got this from disneys second screen. 2 Answers Sorted by: 3 This is reputed to be Edgar Rice Burroughs ' first map of Barsoom. V Measurements - on Barsoom-Linear, Time, Monetary-and a List of Barsoomian Numbers IV - The Flora and Fauna of Barsoom, Including a Dictionary of Barsoomian Plants and Animals III - A Biography of Barsoom, Including a Dictionary of People, Past and Present, Whose Names Appear in the Barsoomian Sagas

MAPS OF BARSOOM SERIES

John Carter was the protagonist of the series and Helium was a major kingdom of Barsoom. ERBzine 3041: Barsoom Maps from the Wood ERB Atlas Download Report erbzine barsoom maps from wood atlas. (COMIC: Changes) Barsoom was the name for Mars in the Martian Series of novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs. One place was labelled Helium and the name John Carter was included in the caption. II - A Geography of Barsoom, Including a Gazetteer-Index and Hemispheric and Polar Maps of Its Surface The Sixth Doctor had a map of Barsoom in a TARDIS storage room. I - A Brief History of Pre-Carter Barsoom AND IT'S ALL HERE IN THE ONLY OFFICIAL GUIDE TO BARSOOM Find this Pin and more on Maps: Fictional by Tektonten Papercraft. He added dauntless heros, beautiful maidens, evil villains and fearful monsters-all the ingredients necessary for a series of thrilling adventures on any world!įeaturing over two dozen illustrations, including maps of the North and South Poles of Barsoom, as well as of the planet's Western and Eastern Hemispheres A Geographical Chart of the Planet Barsoom (Mars) from the writings of Edgar Rice Burroughs. He gave Mars a history, several phases of civilization and an assortment of religions. he peopled the planet with four different human races and one semihuman. Burroughs created a world of dead seabeds, towering mountains, polar ice caps, underground rivers. the story of life and death, romance and tragedy on the Red Planet is undoubtedly one of the greatest series of all time. Over a period of thirty years, Burroughs wrote ten Martian tales. His account of fifteen-foot green men, eight-legged beasts, oviparous females, and swordswinging red men was an immediate success. When Edgar Rice Burroughs (1875-1950) wrote "Dejah Thoris, A Princess of Mars," in 1911, he had no idea that he was opening a new era in the science fiction field. THE OFFICIAL, DEFINITIVE GUIDE TO BARSOOMĬOME TO BARSOOM.

#Maps of barsoom

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longmagazines · 2 years

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Utalk or mondly

UTALK OR MONDLY HOW TO

UTALK OR MONDLY ANDROID

UTALK OR MONDLY SOFTWARE

These tools will give you a hard time thinking which one to choose? With too many language technologies on the market as well. For learners of all ages, apps for children provide a cute and simple choice. Apps for language learning games deliver a fun, immersive way of enhancing your fluency. To help you develop your language ability, creative language applications use clever new tactics.

UTALK OR MONDLY ANDROID

There are plenty of choices out there, whether you use iPhone software, Android apps or use a different platform. Famous language learner apps offer a wide variety of learning opportunities that cover nearly every language that you can imagine. We’re talking about applications for languages. Here we discussed about best language learning apps. If you fail to find time to learn languages in your day, check out my three-step process of learning languages like mad, even if you have a crazy life. When I decided to learn Afrikaans, French, Arabic, and Norwegian, I then resorted to these trusted methods. I tried various language materials, books, and programmes until I mastered Italian, which was my first foreign language, to see what worked best for me.

UTALK OR MONDLY SOFTWARE

When you know what kind of language learning you are, it becomes even clearer to select the right materials, software and methods and your success can skyrocket. I doubt that anyone would be willing to invest that much money on the remote chance that someone would pay to use it.How good you are in learning to speak a language depends not just on your methodology, but also on the level of satisfaction and interaction with your language tools. To take your example, you want the student to say “can I please have a glass of water,” but what do you want the program to do if he doesn’t say it correctly, such as uses the wrong pronoun instead of “I”, or doesn’t say “please”, or uses the wrong gender for “glass?” Should it just say “You gave the wrong answer, please try again,” or should it analyze his error syndrome and provide specific feedback? If you want a simple system that does the former, then you are looking at ten million dollars, but if you want the latter, you are looking at maybe ten times that budget. In the end, I doubt that it would be much more effective than just studying with textbooks/workbooks and flashcards. Doing what you suggest well would cost tens of millions of dollars and require a large team of expensive experts. I know such an idea would require a lot of effort PS: Not sure where to post this but if someone from memrise find this cool please let me know I know such an idea would require a lot of effort, but maybe it could be like a premium feature or just be launched as a game. Often when learning a language it might go well on memrise, but if things become nonlinear as they always do in life, you end up unable to formulate an answer.

UTALK OR MONDLY HOW TO

This would make learning more immersive and teach you how to use your skills in a real world case. Then of course the scenario will continue with ordering food etc. “would you like something to drink?” if you are advanced you might say “can i please have a glass of water” or for beginners “no” may be sufficient such that user can try to just pass through the scenario and then may redo it later in a more fancy way. Then you maybe sit down and the waiter will ask question e.g. When you succeed to do this in the given language you may proceed. First you meet your friend, you have to greet him and ask “how are you”. It would work well using the resources such as memrise already posses and could easily be made to work for multiple languages. The idea is in short to make a nonlinear “game” where you are learning words to do everyday tasks. So I’ve used online resources for many years and so far I didn’t find anyone doing this, but I believe it would take online learning to a new level.

#Utalk or mondly

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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yasminbenoit · 4 years

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What Is Asexuality? Yasmin Benoit for Teen Vogue

For Asexuality Awareness Week, model Yasmin Benoit answers the question ‘what is asexuality’, and busts some common myths about what it means to be asexual.

I realized I was asexual around the same time my peers seemed to realize that they were not. Once the hormones kicked in, so did a nearly universal interest in sex for those around me. I thought sex was intriguing, but never so much that I wanted to express my sexuality with someone else. I had no sexual desire towards other people, I did not experience sexual attraction, and that hasn't changed.

I didn't learn that there was a word for my sexuality until I was 15, after being interrogated for the millionth time at school about my orientation, or lack of it. After doing some Googling as soon as I got home, I realized for the first time in my life that I might not be broken, that I wasn't alone in my experience, and that it wasn't a defect I had somehow brought on myself. I had spent the entirety of my adolescent life trying to answer people's invasive questions without having the language to explain that I was just an asexual girl.

But even after I found the language, I had only solved half of the problem. We are taught in grade school that we'll become sexually interested in others, but never that not being sexually attracted to anyone is an option. Because we're not taught about it, no one else knew what I was talking about when I tried to come out to them as asexual.

Many don't believe asexuality is real, and that makes the experience of navigating our heteronormative, hyper-sexualized society as an asexual person even harder. I've spent my life battling misconceptions about it and so have many other asexual people. Now, I try to use my work as a model and activist to raise awareness and change the way our society perceives asexuality and asexual people. This Asexual Awareness Week, I'm busting some of those myths about my orientation.

Now, let's separate fact from fiction:

Myth: Asexual people have no sexuality ✘

Truth: Asexuality is considered a sexuality, just like bisexuality, heterosexuality, and homosexuality. I often phrase it as being a sexual orientation where your sexuality isn’t oriented anywhere—because it isn't actually the same as having no sexuality or sexual feelings. Asexual people have hormones like everyone else. It isn’t uncommon for asexual people to masturbate and there are asexual people who still have sex for various reasons and gain enjoyment from it. Some asexual people are romantically attracted to others, but not sexually attracted. Since asexuality is a spectrum, the ways in which asexuality is experienced can vary in different ways.

Myth: Asexuality is a lifestyle choice ✘

Truth: This misconception stems from the idea that asexuality is a choice and not a legitimate sexual orientation. Asexuality is often confused with celibacy or abstinence, probably because they can manifest in similar ways. In contemporary society, celibacy is often defined as being sexually abstinent, often for religious reasons. Sure, for many asexual people, their asexuality means that they aren’t interested in having sex with other people, but that’s a result of their orientation—not their beliefs about sexual behavior. Celibacy is a lifestyle choice, asexuality is not. Asexuality also shouldn't be confused with being an incel. People don't decide to become asexual because they can't find sexual partners or because of any other circumstances. It isn't a state of being when you're going through a "dry spell," nor is it a choice any more than being gay or straight is a choice. It's just the way we are.\

Myth: Asexuality is an illness ✘

Truth: The assertion that asexuality is a mental or physical disorder is incredibly harmful to asexual people and has led to false diagnoses, unnecessary medication, and attempts at converting asexual people. For example, Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder and Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder — which are characterized by low or absent sex drive — are in the DSM-5 and have been thought of as a medical diagnosis for asexuality. But the difference is that people who have HSDD are bothered by their lack of sexual drive, while asexual people are not. But even the inclusion of HSDD as a diagnosis is controversial — some argue that people who are asexual might feel distress at their lack of sexual desire because of lack of acceptance in society. Asexuality is not the result of a hormone deficiency, or a syndrome, or a physical or psychological ailment. Research has said as much. We don't need to be treated or fixed.

Myth: Asexual people have anti-sex attitudes ✘

Truth: There are asexual people who are repulsed by the thought of sex, or by the thought of having sex themselves. I fall into the latter category. However, that feeling does not necessarily extend to what other people are doing. The misconception that asexual people are against other people expressing their sexuality, and that all asexual people can’t stomach conversations about sex, is quite an alienating one. It leads to asexual people being left out of important discussions about sexuality. It is entirely possible and incredibly common to have sex-positive attitudes and be asexual.

Myth: There are barely any asexual people ✘

Truth: Don't let our lack of visibility and representation fool you. There are a lot of asexual people out there, but many of us aren't entirely out, and some haven't realized that there's a word for what they're experiencing due to that lack of visibility. While research into the asexual population is lacking, its estimated that around 1% of the population is asexual—but that's based on a studies where the participants have likely known what asexuality was and been out enough to identify that way. It's likely there are more asexual people than we know of, but even if we did only comprise 1% of the population, that's still tens of millions of asexual people.

Myth: Asexual people just haven’t found the right person yet ✘

Truth: The idea that asexual people just need to meet the ‘right person’ who will unlock their sexual desire and ‘fix’ their asexuality is one I’ve always found quite perplexing. It’s an argument that seems to be applied to asexuality more than other orientations. You wouldn’t tell a straight guy that they just “hadn’t met the right man yet" as an explanation of why he's attracted to women. I’d like to think that most wouldn’t tell a gay man that they “hadn’t met the right woman yet” either. It suggests that our sexuality is reflective of our company, that no one we have ever seen or encountered has met our standards, and thus we haven’t experienced sexual attraction to the extent that the term ‘asexual’ could be applied.

This assumption ignores and invalidates all of the asexual people who have found the ‘right’ person—the asexual people in happy, fulfilling, loving relationships or who have had them in the past. Because, yes, asexual people can still have romantic relationships, or any other kind of relationship. The validity of a relationship is not and should not be based on how sexually attracted you are to that person. This statement also plays into the notion that asexual people are “missing out” on something and haven’t truly discovered our entire selves, that we are incomplete because of our innate characteristics or our life experiences. This isn’t true either.\

Myth: There’s an asexual demographic ✘

Truth: Even though most people don’t know much about asexuality, they still have quite a specific idea about what asexual people are like. I’ve often heard that, as a black woman and a model, I don’t look or seem asexual. We’re stereotyped as being awkward white kids who spend too much time on social media and probably aren’t attractive enough to find a sexual partner if we wanted to. And if we are attractive enough, then we should tone that down as not to ‘give mixed signals.’ But there is no asexual way to look or dress. Asexual people have varying ages, backgrounds, interests, appearances, and experiences, just like those belonging to any other sexual orientation. So please don't use the term "asexual" as an adjective to describe someone you think is sexually unappealing or as an insult, because that's only perpetuating this harmful stereotype.

Makeup: Margherita Lascala

Photography: Becky Gannon

Hair: Kayla Idowu

Styling: Diesel, Cheimsee, Sixth June, Northskull, Lamoda

#yasmin benoit #asexuality #ace week #ace week 2020 #asexual awareness week #asexual #aromantic #lgbt #pride #asexual pride #this is what asexual looks like #lgbtqia #lgbtqa #acephobia #aphobia #alternative black girl #alternative model #black model

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Four

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, making out

Chapter Summary: You go on a short trip to Massachusetts to see Peter, Bucky takes you on a second date, someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a filler but it has a decent amount of necessary plot and progression. The next part will have a time jump so I don’t have to include a bunch of filler chapters, blehk. Let me know if you see my Avatar: The Last Airbender reference in here! And as always, you’re welcome to send me a coffee!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh @ursmolbunny @devilswaldorf

By the time Monday rolled around, you were thankful Bucky had training in the morning or you would’ve never gone to sleep. Most of the deeper subjects had been touched on when you were together on Saturday, so Sunday was just texting more playful banter and fun facts you hadn’t learned during your lab hangouts, but you two still talked until your phone was propped up on your pillow waiting for another message while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Bucky had sent you a sweet “good morning, doll” text for you to wake up to, but you didn’t talk much before you had to head to work and he had to work out with Steve. That’s the downside to waking up with just enough time to get ready. Not much wiggle room for distractions, no matter how delicious.

You had barely settled in to your workspace, specs for Sam’s wings pulled up in front of you, when you had a request for a FaceTime call from Peter, of all people. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks since he went back to campus, but he was set to come back soon for a weekend.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” you answered.

“Hey [Y/N]! I, uh, I kind of have a big favor to ask,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Oh… okay? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember that project you wanted my help on?” You nodded. “Well I talked to my professor about it and he said I can use it as my final project for this semester as long as you come to the proposal and document what you did on it so I don’t take credit for any of your work. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine! I can probably work on another project, I just don’t want to put your project off and make you wait for me to finish my part —“

“Peter!” you shouted, cutting off his rambling with a laugh. “I think that sounds great. It’ll be nice for you to kill two birds with one stone. When would I need to be there?”

“Uhh,” he started with another forced laugh. “My proposal is Wednesday.”

You stared at the screen, motionless at his response. “Wednesday. Like, two days from now, Wednesday?” Peter nodded. You could practically see him sweating through the phone, worrying about whether or not he should’ve asked his professor sooner or just completely avoided the subject entirely. But you knew he probably didn’t have much heads-up and considered using your project a little late in the game. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid. Let me double check with the boss but I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Peter cheered.

“I’ll text you when my flight leaves because there’s no way I’m driving ten hours.”

You and Peter briefly went over how things would work, from what you should wear to whether you’d be getting a hotel room or bunking on his futon. While you were talking, you emailed your dad about the trip and got a quick approval. Tony liked Peter, and you understood why. He reminded you of your father if your dad had a stutter instead of an ego.

Mid-afternoon, when you took your second 20-minute break of the day just to let your brain relax, there was a soft tap on the door of your lab before Bucky poked his head in. He stepped in and looked around the whole room frantically before he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the giant bean bag chair you shoved into the corner once Peter left. You liked being able to take your breaks in the quiet of the lab so your brain could actually shut down for a few minutes.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Hey Buck,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said with a sigh. “Just bored so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Just taking a break,” you shrugged. “But you’re more than welcome to sit with me while I work. I won’t interact much because I lose focus easily but you can hang out.”

“As appealing as that is,” he started as he walked closer to you in your bean bag chair, “I know I’d start asking questions and I don’t want to distract you.”

You stood from your spot as he got closer and smirked up at him. “You are pretty distracting.” He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with you. “It’s a good thing my breaks are made for distraction.”

He smiled down at you as his warm hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss, your own hands looping through his belt and pulling his body closer to yours.

You practically melted into him, feeling as if you couldn’t get closer no matter how hard you tried. Even him slipping his thigh between your legs didn’t feel close enough. Then the weight of his metal hand fell to your waist as his tongue entered your mouth. It was all reminiscent of your first kiss just a couple days before.

Except outside your apartment, you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“Hey [Y/N], have you—“ You and Bucky quickly pulled apart at the sound of a new voice coming from the doorway and you immediately started to panic.

“—seen Bucky,” Steve ended with a sigh. The door quietly clicked shut behind him as he stepped in. “So you two…?”

“Have been on a date,” you said, walking toward Steve with your hands held out. “Steve, please don’t tell anyone, especially Tony.”

“You kind of owe me one, punk,” Bucky said as he walked closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I never ratted you out for lying on, what, five different enlistment papers?”

Steve huffed at this, clearly stuck between following the rules or letting others break rules that were much more harmless than his past rule breaking.

“You know this is gonna come out eventually, right? You won’t be able to hide this — and whatever this becomes — forever,” Steve warned.

“We know,” you said solemnly, “but it’s nice to just have this for now, you know?” You looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the lab table looking back at you, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Just… be careful,” Steve said as he started to leave. “If you don’t lock the door, at least ask Friday to alert you if someone is coming this way.”

“You know, I don’t care what people say about you, Steve. You’re pretty smart.” Steve initially smiled but then let out a short ‘hey!’ as you pushed him the rest of the way out.

“That was close,” you said, turning back to Bucky.

“But at least we have a pretty influential Avenger on our side, if we ever get outed,” Bucky said. Too bad he didn’t know the approval of everyone on earth would mean nothing to your dad — and both of your boss.

“Well, that little debacle kind of wasted the rest of my break,” you pouted, stepping up to Bucky.

“Can I take you out again?”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled. “Oh! I’m leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow and coming back on Thursday and have my family thing on Friday so will Saturday work?”

“Massachusetts?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the rest of your statement.

“Yeah, I’m helping Peter with a project so his prof wants me to be there to answer questions while he proposes his project. It’ll just be Wednesday, but Tony let me have tomorrow and Thursday off for travel so I’m taking my time.”

“That sounds…” Bucky started. “Uhh… I gotta be honest, that sounds unbearably boring,” he laughed, making you giggle with him. “But good luck to you and Peter. I’ll see you Saturday?”

•

The trip to Massachusetts was short but boring, and you were relieved to see Peter’s car when you stepped outside. Your hotel was right down the road from his dorm, so you dropped your stuff off before heading to his room to go over the proposal.

Even though you had only spent a few weeks working with Peter, he had grown to be like a brother to you. Spending so much time every day with no one else to talk to can really help people bond. Your dad’s adoration for the kid definitely helped, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if your dad eventually brought Peter along to family dinner.

“So I have to do most of the work, but you’ll need to explain why we’re doing this and what you’ll be doing,” Peter said after reviewing his speech.

“Okay, I can manage that.”

Peter was quiet for a second before saying, “Do you… maybe wanna go over what you’ll say…?”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, public speaking is a big thing in my family so I just figured I’d wing it.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said quietly, his eyes going wide right as the words left his mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just mean, this proposal is important to me so I want it to go as smoothly and well-planned as possible.”

“Okay, you be your professor.”

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Miss [Y/L/N], what prompted you to start this project with Mr. Parker? And what role will you play in its growth?”

“Well, Dr. Kramer, I recently received a promotion within Stark Industries to work with the Avengers on their weaponry. This work included the vibranium arm on the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. One thing I noticed early on was the lack of sensory receptors within the arm. That observation, along with a similar request from Mr, Barnes, prompted me to look into ways to change this. Mr. Parker has an internship with Mr. Stark so, considering our different areas of study, I sought out his help. With my knowledge and expertise on the mechanical side of things, Mr. Parker will primarily be working on the more biological side of things. Once he finds a way to connect new receptors to the spinal column through the current nerve channels, I’ll be able to create millions of micro-receptors that will need to essentially be surgically embedded in the vibranium. I already have the blueprints for this process; I’m more than willing to share those documents with you, though it is confidential and I would need you to sign an NDA for safety reasons.”

Peter stood in the middle of his room, speechless.

“I told you it runs in my family,” you laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor. I’m hungry.”

The next day, Peter and you breezed through the proposal. Peter didn’t even stutter during his speech! But his classmates did bombard you with questions that the professor quickly shut down. You and Peter spent the rest of the day catching up. He introduced you to his girlfriend Michelle and his friends Ned and Flash. By the time you got back to your hotel that night, you were exhausted — and thankful for an afternoon flight.

The next morning, you got breakfast with Peter before his class and finished packing to fly back to New York. You were once again grateful for an afternoon flight because by the time you got back, you didn’t have time to get back to work. So you took the evening off and treated yourself to a bath, some wine, and your favorite Netflix series — and texting Bucky, of course.

Family dinner that week was much easier than the previous week. Your dad mainly asked about your project with Peter, only briefly touching on Bucky’s involvement. At least until your phone buzzed on the table. It was a rule that phones stay face-up on the table at dinner and any messages get read aloud. So when you saw “James 🐻” pop up, heat rushed to your face. You managed to snatch your phone before your dad could, but you still had to read it out loud to the table.

“Uh,” you nervously cleared your throat. “So, James said ‘I have an idea for our date tomorrow, but I would need full reign over your kitchen for a while.’” You sent the table a tight-lipped smile as you locked your phone and set it down again, waiting for someone to say something.

“You’re going out with this James again?” your dad asked.

“Yes,” you said plainly. “I like him, dad. A lot.”

“And you’re already inviting him over?”

“Dad, stop. I’m a grown woman; I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying… well, don’t you want to get to know him better first? Make sure he doesn’t want to wear your skin?”

“Ew, shut up,” you laughed. “I’ve done plenty of research into him; he’s a good guy.” Your dad still looked skeptical, so you pulled out your puppy dog eyes. “Please trust me on this.”

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Okay, fine. He’s a good guy. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do either.” You rolled your eyes at him but managed to divert the conversation by asking Happy and Pepper what Tony’s limit really meant.

•

The next day at 3:30 on the dot, you got a call to your house phone by the front door. It was unusual, especially since you hadn’t ordered any food. The doorman usually brought food up, but called if they were working alone. And you knew they weren’t working alone, considering how early it was. Still in your sweats and a t-shirt since Bucky wasn’t coming over until 4, you answered the phone with a simple “hey.”

“Hello Miss [Y/L/N],” you recognized the doorman Matt’s voice, “there’s a James at the front door for you?”

“Oh, okay, shit,” you said, whispering the last word to yourself. “Go ahead and send him up.”

“Would you like to grant him regular access to your residence?” Matt was always so formal, probably because you pushed for your dad to hire him and he knew he had to keep this gig. His background check showed he came from a low-income family and really wanted to turn that around. He knew he owed you and because of that, he was always grateful and sweet.

“Yes please. Thanks, Matt!”

With that, you hung up and sprinted to your room, knowing Bucky only had a 20 second elevator ride before he got to the sixth floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have time to scramble for new clothes before there was a knock at your door. You grumbled as you ran back to the front door and greeted Bucky.

“Hi,” you said, half out of breath from your scurrying.

“Hey,” he smiled back. “I’m glad we chose the same style today.”

You gave him an admittedly generous once-over and realized his gray sweats and black tee matched yours, though your shirt did have an NYU logo on it.

“Oh thank god,” you nearly cackled. “I was panicking because I thought I should dress nice but you were early so I didn’t have time but I didn’t want to get ready too early so I wasn’t —“

“Hey [Y/N]?” Bucky interrupted. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You stepped aside and let him kick his shoes off in the entryway. That’s when you noticed all the grocery bags in his hands. “Uhh, whatcha got there?”

“I said I’d need your kitchen, right?” he smiled, sending a wink your way as he started setting up. “I’m gonna cook you some authentic Romanian dishes ma used to make back in the ‘30s.”

“Ohh, sounds yummy. Can I help?”

“If you want to eat any of it, you better help,” Bucky joked.

“Let me grab a couple aprons so our fancy attire doesn’t get dirty.” In the hallway closet, you had about a dozen aprons Happy got for you. You said you needed some aprons once and suddenly you were getting new aprons for every gift-giving holiday. You appreciated it, though. Every time Happy saw an apron he thought you’d like, he bought it. And you, in return, bought him every oven mitt you thought he would like after he accidentally burned his hand making green bean casserole one year for Thanksgiving.

You grabbed the “Queen of the Cat-chen” apron covered in cats for yourself and for Bucky, the “I’ll feed all you fuckers” apron your dad thought was hilarious on your last birthday.

“Sorry I don’t have any matching chef hats,” you joked as you handed Bucky his apron.

For the next three hours, you followed all Bucky’s instructions and watched as he did his part of the work, chatting while things cooked and finally relaxing once everything was plated. You each had a decent amount of food debris on your aprons, making you thankful you both wore them. You led Bucky into the living room where you sat on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“You know the couch is made for sitting, right?” Bucky asked as he slowly sat behind you, one leg on either side of your body.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sit on the floor, especially when I’m eating.” You turned your head to face him as you continued, “I get too sleepy if I’m on the couch too long.”

He chuckled at your confession but didn’t argue. You both ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of traffic six floors down and the TV quietly playing a crackling fire YouTube video.

“Can you finish this for me?” you asked as Bucky set his empty plate on the coffee table.

“I’m full, doll.”

“Bucky, please? I can’t finish it,” you whines, pouting up at him.

“Then just put it away with the leftovers and eat it later,” he shrugged.

“But I’m so bad at eating leftovers,” you groaned.

“Then I’ll put it away and eat the leftovers,” he conceded. He snatched the plate from you and headed to your kitchen to pack it all away.

By the time he made it back, you were snuggled under a blanket on the couch with “What’s Your Number?” pulled up on the TV.

“I hope you’re okay with watching my favorite movie,” you smiled, making sure to flutter your eyelashes extra hard so he couldn’t say no.

“I haven’t seen this one yet so sure,” he said with a shrug.

He yanked the blanket off your body and unfolded it so he could bring you under his right arm and cover both of you with the thick fabric. Ever since Monday in the lab, he’s been more affectionate. He stopped by on Friday and kissed you at least half a dozen times before he left, then earlier while you were cooking, it was like he had to hold your hips every time he watched over your shoulder, and he chose to end the night holding you into his side and… oh, you were a goner once his fingers started lightly tracing shapes on your bare arm.

And he had to have known you were weak, if the way he angled his body toward you was any indication. You loved the movie you had picked out and really did want to watch it… but when you looked up at Bucky and saw his gaze meet yours, you knew the movie was going to be long forgotten.

His lips pressed to yours firmly, like he wanted to make sure you remembered what he felt like. You quickly let things escalate by gripping his hair and pulling him with you and you laid back on the couch. Your legs fell open as he slid right between them, his left arm propped on the cushion to keep himself from crushing you and his right slipping under your shirt to hold your waist. When his tongue passed your lips, you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of him taking control. His hand never moved past your waist, just occasionally squeezing as he pressed his body against yours.

The rest of the night was spent alternating between making out, talking while you were chest to chest on the couch, and making out some more until you fell asleep against his chest.

•

The next morning, you woke up to the blaring sound of a ringtone... that wasn’t your ringtone. And you were on your couch? The sleepy haze quickly wore off when you felt Bucky’s body shift behind you to reach over and grab his phone.

“What?” he answered grumpily, though your body’s initial reaction was to how deep and gravelly his voice was in the morning. Fuck.

With how close you two were and how quiet it was with the TV off, you managed to barely make out what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” It was Steve. “You were supposed to be at the group breakfast this morning but you weren’t in your room so I told Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned. Now that sound sent all your senses into overdrive. “I fell asleep at [Y/N]’s last night.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve replied, clearly exasperated. “Look, just stop by a convenience store and grab some medicine so when you get back, no one questions it. You snuck out when no one saw, that’s the story.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll head out soon.” Once they hung up, you rolled over on the couch to face Bucky.

“Good morning,” you said with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” he replied, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sure you heard but I’ve gotta head out before Tony gets suspicious.”

“Okay. Text me when you get back?”

Bucky stood from the couch, and you followed suit behind him as he put his sneakers and jacket on.

“I’ll text you on my whole trip back,” he smiled. “Looks like you might have to bring those leftovers with you tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sneak them back today.”

You practically skipped to join him at the door, your hands going to rest on his chest before he could leave.

“Should we just designate Saturdays as our date nights?” you asked.

“Who said you get another date?” Bucky joked back.

“Excuse me?” you gasped in mock offense. “Next time I get to choose what we do and I’m not letting you take that away from me.”

Bucky chuckled at your little outburst but pressed another kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

“Next Saturday, your pick,” he smirked.

“It’s a date.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic

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xlehukax · 3 years

Text

Thank You For The Music

Foreword: This is for the Sanders Sides Gift Exchange! Analogical Soulmate Au, as requested by @romantichopelessly! Happy holidays. And there’s also a playlist! @sanderssidesgiftxchange!

Ships: Logan x Virgil, (Background) Patton x Janus

Word Count: 8374

Warnings: SelectiveMute!Virgil, like one fight scene, Cursing, Logan’s ignoring feelings, it’s mainly the Logan and Virgil show... I don’t think there’s really anything!

Summary: Logan’s been asked to assist a local student on campus. Having nothing else to do, he agrees: and so starts a connection that he would’ve never expected, and one that flowers more beautifully than he could ever imagine. (Soulmates can hear each other sing in their heads: Italics are either singing or sign language)

~~~~~

Somehow, Logan thought his fourth year in College would feel different. Like he’s gone on some sort of journey: like he’s learned in the education manner but also in the lifestyle sort of way.

It doesn’t appear that way. It seems like Logan’s the same.

No friends.

No challenges.

Nothing to be excited about whatsoever. He’s going to college for the degree at this point, and the title alone. It’s why when the professor for his Microbiology class asks him to stay after, it shocks him. Especially so close to the end of the semester.

Is he not doing enough? A quick inventory of his mind ensures that he hasn’t forgotten anything. The professor must need something: she’s taken a shine to him anyway, it probably isn’t bad. Logan gathers his things and then places them carefully in their individual places in his bag: once everything is where it belongs, in pockets and folders and sections, Logan presents himself to the professor. She smiles at him over the top of her laptop, eyes sparkling with mirth before shutting the lid of the machine.

“Thank you for seeing me, Logan,” she grins.

“I’m going to be blunt here: why have you asked me to stay? I assume that there is nothing out of order.”

“No, no… your grades are impeccable, participation is great, and you’ve been fantastic. It’s simply that you’re so outstanding that I want to ask a favor,” his professor asks shrewdly. Logan hums for a moment, debating, before wincing in pain and clutching his temple.

“Logan! Are you alright, dear?”

“Ah, yes. It’s merely my soulmate,” he says by way of explanation. The professor smiles broadly.

“How fantastic! Anything good?”

Logan quickly takes stock of the song: his mystery mate sang Overkill yesterday during Office Hours, and Sally’s Song the day before that while he was at his college apartment. He only knew because a) these were repeating songs, and b) he’d looked them up right away. Listened to them after the music fades to hold them close.

It’s funny that he never once thinks that the original is better in any sense than the sweet song of his soulmate. His (Logan’s assumed it’s a he, based on his own sexuality and interests) music is so sweet: his voice is lilting and beautiful and it makes Logan feel so guilty. So guilty, because he must be the most beautiful man in the world and Logan hasn’t given him anything. Logan does not… sing.

And in a world where you hear your soulmate’s singing in your own head, it’s a betrayal.

“So? What is it?” the professor’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“Oh, I’m not sure. It seems to go… oh, oh, oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting. Oh, oh, oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting. I’m a lonely boy, I’m a lonely boy,” he repeats the song in a monotone. The professor snaps her fingers.

“Ah, The Black Keys. Lonely Boy, a classic!! It’s a good song, your soulmate has some bloody good taste. And, what are you doing, letting them be lonely like that?” she winks at him, “It’s quite the song.”

“I do not see how this is relative to our conversation,” Logan deadpans, tired of this discourse already. If it has nothing to do with academics, he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got off-topic. Anyway, you know ASL right?”

“Indeed.”

“Perfect,” she smiles gently, getting up from the desk and dusting herself off, “There’s a student at the school, it’s his second year: he’s mute and uses primarily ASL to communicate. So far, he’s been surviving by being with his brother. But the brother is changing schools after this semester to go to a better nursing school and… well, we need someone to look after Virgil. Virgil Williams is the name of the student and Patton Williams’s the brother. There’s not a lot of students who know ASL here, and from what I’ve heard you don’t really participate in extracurricular activities. This would be not only a great way to flesh out your resumé but also simply a great thing to do, you know, humanitarian wise. Would you be up for it?”

Logan considers for a moment. It’s true, he doesn’t do a whole lot outside of schoolwork: he does tend to have too much free time spent re-reading books. It doesn’t have to be anything special: it’s only helping this kid when he needs it. No problem whatsoever: he’s tutored people before, it’ll be similar.

“I don’t see why not. Do I have an opportunity to meet with them before I agree completely?”

“Oh, of course! They should be at their dorm now… here’s the dorm number,” she passes him a slip of paper and what this job will entail and waves him off. The dorm’s only a short walk away: it’ll be less than a ten-minute walk from the lecture hall if he crosses the Courtyard.

Logan walks briskly: he doesn’t require the extra exercise due to his rigorous workout schedule but it’s always nice to stretch his limbs. He breaks into a light jog, his bag bouncing slightly on his back as he moves, and makes it there in exactly 8.7 minutes instead of 10. Logan wipes the sweat from his brow with a cloth before entering the dormitories and heading to the shared Williams dorm. It’s on the third floor, right outside the elevators.

Logan takes the stairs.

He combats a sudden influx of nerves at the door: swallows it deep and regulates his features. Professional, he thinks to himself. Be professional.

His knock is answered immediately as if they were standing at the door. Logan’s presented with a man who breaks out into a broad smile immediately: his hair is pulled up into a small bundle at the top of his head, sparse brown curls sticking out haphazardly. He’s quite large and strong-looking: he’d be intimidating if his eyes didn’t have that same sort of sparkle that the professor did, his large circle-rimmed glasses hiding absolutely nothing.

“Oh!! You must be the guy the Prof knew!! Hello! I’m Patton!! It’s so great to meet you!! Agh, I’m so excited! Well, Virgil too,” he grins. Logan blinks. He is… a lot.

“Greetings. I am Logan,” Logan signs the words alongside the verbal words to demonstrate his fluency. Patton squeals and Logan winces.

“Haha, sorry about that. Again, eee! So excited! I’ll introduce you to Virgil,” Patton holds the door ajar for Logan to enter, gesturing to the small pile of shoes to remove his. Logan gently unties his trainers and places them beside a pair of Doc Martens and Toms. They’re about as different as they could be: one is black and bulky with thick purple laces, the others a sky blue with little paw prints. Polar opposites. Logan diverts his attention to Patton, who’s been jabbering on about something or other.

“-and there he is! Virgil, come on out kiddo- meet Logan!” Patton coos at what at first glance seems to be a shadow but in reality is a man who practically hides by the door of the conjoined bedroom. He’s encompassed by an oversized hoodie.

“Hello, it is nice to meet you, Virgil,” he signs out silently. Patton bites his lip to stop himself from speaking, but his noises of excitement escape anyway. Virgil signs back a meek hello: his hood falls off in the process, and Logan scrutinizes the face that he’s apparently going to be assisting for a while.

Virgil has long dark hair: unkempt and uncut, old dye lingering stubbornly on the tips of it. His eyelashes are long, drooping over his cheeks, as he avoids Logan’s gaze. He possesses dark circles under each eye- so dark it seems intentional. Virgil tugs his hood over his head the moment the silence stretches a bit too long, and he’s gone: a rabbit ducking into a hole. Logan wishes he’d put the hood back down.

In all regards, Logan means to say that Virgil holds palpable beauty.

The idea within itself isn’t strange: Logan understands the various societal norms and standards that society adheres to beauty and usually makes deductions off of that, but there is… something about Virgil. Virgil’s not muscular looking, or overly lean, or anything of the sort. He’s simply… enchanting.

“Well, say something!” Patton shouts, breaking the silence. “Or, I mean, sign something, Virge. It’s too stifled in here: do either of you want something to drink?”

“Water?” Virgil signs. His hands are shaking.

“I’ll have one of those too,” Logan adds on. Patton smiles at the two of them and finger guns. “You can hear, correct?” Logan asks, keeping his tone easy. He makes sure to enunciate each of his words, just in case. Virgil blinks up at him moonishly.

“Yes,” Virgil says, worrying at his lip.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I’m only here to help you,” Logan attempts to smile at him comfortingly: judging by Virgil’s expression, it seems more like a grimace. “Let’s sit down and talk about this, alright?” Logan sighs. He pulls out a chair at their small table and lets Virgil sit in it, pushing him in. Immediately after, Virgil pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them. He’s vanished completely into his hoodie.

Logan sits next to him, rather than across: he doesn’t want to make him feel like he’s being interrogated.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says.

“You have nothing to be sorry for?” Logan replies, more of a question than an assurance. “My apologies Virgil, but you’re not trying to impress me. I am simply here to introduce myself so that I can begin to help you. I am here for you. You can take as long as you want.”

Virgil peeks out from under the hoodie like a prairie dog emerges from a hole. Hair first, then curious eyes, then his hands.

Logan smiles.

“Now, let’s draw up a contract here, to outline what we’ll be doing this year. I do believe,” he retrieves the papers the professor had given him, “that you already have a solution for classes, so you will not require my assistance there. It’s more after school hours and personal activities, no?”

Virgil nods meekly.

So… Virgil just needs a… friend? A friend who knows ASL? Logan’s heart swells in his chest: Virgil just needs a friend.

Logan doesn’t let his excitement show: because deep down, deep enough that he’ll never admit it fully- let alone say it aloud- he’d truly like a friend too.

And as Virgil glances over the contract and bites his nails and spares him the smallest glance before Patton returns with two glasses of water and a plate of supermarket cookies… Logan can’t help but feel like this will become more.

The contract is solidified: Logan will go to Virgil after his classes end, assist him with homework or anything else he needs at the time. Logan will be on speed dial for him if talking to people if needed. Logan will be paid a small sum per day, as well as the equating service hours.

Patton can’t stop thanking him with tears in his eyes. Virgil doesn’t look at him once, spares him no glances. Rather, his eyes are downcast for the next hour that Logan’s there. He has a little fidgeting toy and presses it in his lap. Logan exchanges cordially with Patton, Patton cheers animatedly, and Virgil is silent.

“If I may ask… why now? Is this not your second year of college? Why would you leave now?” Logan asks. Patton’s expression saddens.

“Oh… well, I’m transferring to a better medical school after this semester and- I couldn’t leave Virgil here without any help- he waited for me so we could go here together and… I can’t leave with no safety net for him,” Patton says tearily. He wipes at his eyes and goes to squeeze Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil sinks deeper into his hoodie. Logan feels deeply uncomfortable.

“So thank you, Logan: you seem so nice, and so smart, I’m sure that I’ll be leaving him in capable hands,” Patton assures him, and then looks at the time mounted on the wall, “Oh! You must be going now, huh? I’ll walk you out,”

“Goodbye, Virgil. I look forward to seeing you soon,” he says curtly, before letting Patton lead him back to the door. As he ties up his shoes, Logan opens his mouth hesitantly.

“You are… you are a good brother, taking care of your younger sibling like that,” he does his best at comforting. Patton laughs at him.

“No, no! Virgil’s my older brother by two years. Technically, he should be at your level: but he waited for me to go. We’re really close and we help each other out so… Goodness, that’s the reason why I’m doing all this, reaching out to the teachers and organizing things for him. I want to -no, I need to- help him out. Like he’s helped me,” Patton explains. Logan blinks. This means two things.

Patton feels guilty. He feels oh so guilty, and Virgil probably feels betrayed. Betrayed and alone.

Virgil and Logan are the same age.

~~~~~~

The end of the first semester comes quickly. It was only a few weeks away, and Logan spends minimal time with Virgil: giving the brothers space to make amends before he comes between them.

On the last day of the quarter, Logan makes his way to their dorm room. Music had been stuck in his head all day: his soulmate singing the same song over and over again. It’s beautiful, of course, but nagging as he tries to focus. Logan debated singing a little “shut up please” but even that little snippet of musicality makes him nervous.

And what would his soulmate think? What would he think, after years of silence, that the first thing he gets in return is a demand for silence? Logan shivers at the thought of it. The song goes: Time is an illusion that helps things make sense, so we’re always living in the present tense- it seems unforgiving when a good thing ends, but you and I will always be back then.

Logan likes the scientific simplicity of it, and finds himself humming along as he swiftly walks across the courtyard to the dorms. His soulmate’s voice rises with the music: piano, he thinks. His soulmate is playing the piano and singing over and over and over again. In his mind's eye, Logan wishes he could comfort him: do the soulmate things that soulmates do. Embrace him and calm him and quell his fears. The music fades in time for him to get to the dorms: Patton’s already outside, bags packed.

Logan is giving, or rather attacked, with a hug from Patton.

“You are leaving now, yes?” he says, trying to make it seem like he’s not worming out of the embrace despite his discomfort. Patton releases him after a moment, worrying at his lip.

“Yeah! I’ll visit as often as I can, call me if ANYTHING happens, and-”

“Patton,” Logan grips his shoulders, “I can handle this. Go on now,” Patton nods tearily.

“You promise you’ll take good care of my brother? You have to- to pinky promise, because if anything happens to him it’s going to be my fault,” Patton wipes his eyes, and there’s that intimidating that he always knew Patton had the potential for: “You have to promise. I love Virgil more than anything or anyone in the world. He is the kindest, most thoughtful person. You may not see it right now, but he is. Virgil is the best person I know. You have to help him when he needs it, even if he doesn’t want it,”

“I promise, I’ll perform to the very best of my ability Patton,” Logan says steely, “I promise. You go and pursue your dreams.” Logan and Patton both glance up to the window of the dorm that Virgil’s in: the curtains are closed, and Patton sighs. Gives Logan a meaningful look.

Patton juts his pinky in his face, and Logan exasperatedly links his. Patton’s face brightens, and leaves to the nearby road where a taxi awaits. In Logan’s head, a new song begins. It starts with a guitar and then continues with his soulmate’s angelic voice: “Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe-”

Logan watches him go for a moment: and then he starts walking into the dorms to check in on Virgil. Logically, he’s probably feeling due amounts of stress and uncertainty in the new situation.

“Nothings gonna change my world, nothings gonna change my world…. images of broken light, which dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe,”

Logan’s heart feels full, an odd feeling: there’s something about the music and the situation that blends and rushes into his chest so wonderfully. Perhaps this is what it’s like to be with your soulmate: life and soul singing together in perfect harmony.

“Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box, they tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe,”

Logan takes the stairs step by step, enjoying the music as long as he can.

“Nothings gonna change my world, nothings gonna change my world, nothings gonna change my world, nothings gonna change my world…” the music stops all at once, guitar too: Logan misses it for only a moment, before he remembers that it’s no passing street musician but rather his soulmate. His soulmate who sings so perfectly. The soulmate he’ll never meet.

He arrives at the Williams’ dorm- err, now just Virgil’s, and raps on the door. He waits for a “coming!” but then realizes his mistake. He waits patiently for Virgil to open it: and when he does, it’s only a crack. Logan stares back at the scrap of Virgil’s face he can see.

His lips purse.

“Would you like to let me in?” Logan asks gently. Virgil’s face tightens nervously, and he signs something quickly.

“I’m not okay right now,” he says. Logan swallows.

“Can I help with anything? Or should I leave?” he keeps his voice as soft as he can. Virgil’s head shakes a vehement ‘no’.

“Virgil… I-” he tries to come up with a reason, a real reason for him to stay. There is none. If Virgil says he doesn’t need any help then there’s no reason to stay. Logan swallows. “If you have no need for me… then I… I should leave,” he sighs. The door closes shut behind him with a click.

Logan’s moving to leave when he has a new idea. He raps on the door once more. Virgil’s face peers through the crack in the door again. He rolls his eyes at Logan.

“What is it?” he signs.

“Fancy a game of chess?”

~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, Virgil is a silent but deadly good chess player. He’s forward thinking and takes no risks that he can’t counter the backlash of. Logan is thrilled to play with someone so astute.

“Checkmate,” Logan announces, after a long and difficult game. Virgil huffs in mock indignation, and knocks down his own king. “You’re quite proficient at this, Virgil. We should play more often.”

Virgil blushes, signing a quick “Thank you” and then zipping his hoodie up further. Logan finds himself smiling at him.

“Would you like to go again? Or do you have work to do that I can help you with?”

“Again,” Virgil signs, hands quivering slightly. Logan chuckles and resets the board for another go. Virgil bites at his nails and waits. It’s too quiet without Patton’s incessant yammering. Logan decides to ask the first question that comes to mind.

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Virgil makes sweater paws and ducks into his hoodie more.

“Oh- I’m sorry, is that a bad topic-”

“No. I do not have one.”

There’s been cases of people ‘missing’ soulmates: only to find that they were dead, or that they didn’t want a soulmate and merely ignored them. Or like Logan, who don’t sing whatsoever.

“Ah… well, that’s a shame, Virgil. You’d be amazing to have as a soulmate, I’m sure,”

Virgil flushes deeper, if it’s possible, and hugs himself. Logan finds himself smiling again: Virgil’s cute.

Perhaps he said it out loud, because then Virgil’s growling at him and signing a “Fuck you, I am not!”

“Maybe just a little bit?” Logan teases, he teases, such an odd and different thing for him to do. But teasing Virgil is different. It’s like another game and Logan doesn’t feel out of place or silly: it’s still serious.

“No! No!”

“I think you are,”

“No! What? No!”

“Hmm,” Logan merely says, finishing the chess board.

~~~~~

His soulmate has a crush. A sort of crush that’s teetering constantly between deep pining and attempting to squash it.

It’s apparent, between the lines of “Fly Me To The Moon” and “despair”. In other words, I love you. Cause it’s not romantic, I swear. Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore. I want you to be here, but please don’t come near. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore. It’s not love, I swear.

Today’s song is “Raincoat” (according to the internet) and if that’s not appropriate, Logan doesn’t know what is. Once more, Logan wishes he has the confidence to thank him for the soundtrack that’s been accompanying his life as it rises in joy each day.

These songs… they’re a quick change from the dreary songs that had been going on a few weeks ago. Logan, ironically, doesn’t mind the sappiness, actually. Usually he would, but it fits his recent joy.

Virgil’s exactly what he wanted, what he could’ve never hoped for. He’s smart, he’s clever, he’s shrewd, he’s not touchy, he respects boundaries…

It’s perfect. Logan goes and sticks with him each and every weekday after classes end. They work together, they read together, they watch True Crime shows, they eat dinner together, they play chess and cards and backgammon and Clue and everything possible. They talk: and miracles upon miracles, Virgil seems to like him.

Today is different. Today is a weekend: there’s no real reason that Virgil should need him, he’s never before, but he was invited to have lunch with him anyway. Even though it’s going to be snowing! Even though it’s freezing! Even though in any other instance Logan would be curled up at home with a good book and Star Trek. And rather… rather they’re going to get Hot Pot at the small university town in Logan’s ramshackle car. It gives Logan the strange feeling of hope rising in his chest that Virgil wants him around as much as he does. That Virgil enjoys it as much as he does.

Enjoys the company, the quiet, the whole thing.

He doesn’t even have to go up to the dorm: Virgil’s waiting for him outside the building. Logan waves after he gets out of his secondhand car: Virgil offers a small one in return and walks up to him. He’s all bundled up in several mismatched layers: though he still wears aggressively ripped jeans with skinny knees peeking through, he’s wrapped in several warm coats.

Logan gets a sudden urge to press a kiss to his shaggy hair and hug him tightly, the slouching man at the ideal height. He squashes it quickly, blushing anyway at the mere thought of such romances, and lets Virgil into the passenger seat without looking at him. Virgil taps his hands on the front of the car, a rare grin donning his features. Logan swallows.

Virgil has never looked more beautiful than he does right now. With a smile and all of those layers and his hood just barely adorning his head. Logan notices now that his makeup is different today: a sparkling purple rather than the usual dark tones.

“Where to, Virgil?”

“I do not care!” he signs excitedly. Logan chuckles.

“How about sushi, then?”

Virgil smiles and nods. Logan sets the car into reverse, and then drives out of the parking lot. Virgil fiddles with his fingers. I should say something…

“Would… would you like to listen to any music, Virgil?” Virgil’s head bobs an exuberant yes, and Logan gestures to the old car radio: Virgil fiddles with it, and finally ends up with a channel that’s not staticy.

‘You’d be like heaven to touch… I want to hold you so much,’ At the beginning of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ Virgil sinks into his hoodie: Logan casts his eyes off the road for a second, glancing at Virgil- the scrap of his face that he can see is ruby red. At least the car isn’t silent anymore, he thinks to himself. Virgil’s quiet (well, not signing), and the song plays to completion and fades into “This Guy’s In Love With You”. Virgil, if it’s possible, seems to hide even more.

“We’re almost there, do you want me to turn it off, Virgil?” Logan suggests.

“It’s fine.”

“If you say so… seems like you’re hiding but…”

“Fuck you.”

‘Say you’re in love, in love with this guy… if not, I will just die’

Logan turns off the radio as they turn into the parking lot of the local sushi joint. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to Virgil.

“Eat in or take out?”

“To go,” he signs. Logan hums: maybe one day, they’ll be able to go out together for a meal. Virgil doesn’t like public places due to his anxiety, and Logan doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable and he’d never push him but… it is a classic ‘friend’ activity to go out for dinner together. It would be nice, but having a friend generally is nice and he’s not about to lose him over some stereotype.

Virgil’s not ordinary, so why would their friendship be?

“Come now, Virgil, let’s order,” Logan gets out of the car, helps Virgil out, locks the car. It all feels very normal, very quaint. He has to admit that he enjoys it, despite what one would think if they met him.

Walking into the restaurant is normal. Ordering food (ordering for both of them)? Also normal. They wait for their sushi in the front, Virgil warming his hands by blowing on them.

“Do you enjoy spending time with me?”

The question bursts out of Logan with little warning: he doesn’t even register that he said it until after it’s out of his mouth. He’s about to rescind the words when Virgil responds.

“Yes. Yes. I love spending time with you,” He blushes slightly, looking away, “And you make me feel safe.”

Logan blushes: he grabs the newly presented food and goes back to the car- but Virgil grabs his sleeve.

“Do you want to sit in the park?” Virgil asks, nervous after the flurry of hands.

“It’s freezing outside,”

“I know,” he signs, his expression saddening slightly.

“There’s no one out here.”

“I know, I can see. I’m mute not blind,” Virgil rolls his eyes, heading for the car already. Logan chuckles and clasps his shoulder: Virgil stiffens under his touch.

“I don’t think I said I didn’t want to,” he teases. Virgil’s eyes widen, and then a smile creeps up his lips.

“Okay!” Logan and Virgil walk right next to each other into the park: Virgil signs quite fast that he rather likes the cold, and that the skeletal trees remind him of his favourite movie, and does Logan like Nightmare Before Christmas, and what about stop animation? And halloween movies?

Logan chuckles and answers all of his questions, slowly fielding them back to him. Virgil never talks this much when they’re in public. It’s nice to see him opening up, Logan thinks to himself pridefully, Is this my doing?

He doesn’t mean to preen, but it happens anyway.

“Why are you doing that with your chest?”

“Oh, apologies, Virgil. It was accidental.” Logan reels himself back in: it’s so strange to have to do that. He’s never done anything like that, something that breaks his front stage appearance. It’s odd: like there’s another, smaller, smiling, animated Logan inside of him. A little Logan that’s been ignored and malnourished for a while now. Virgil giggles though, and Logan stops amidst his musings to stare at him.

That was… cute. Why was that cute? Genuinely cute, not teasingly.

Virgil catches him staring and glares at him, though his cheeks flush.

“What are you looking at, nerd?”

“Ah- it’s nothing. Would you like to sit down here and eat?” Logan points to a random bench: Virgil shrugs and sits, holding his arms open for his food. Giving him his food and sitting down next to him is a battle of wills: if it was another other person, in any other situation, he’d excuse himself and leave. But it’s Virgil, and the man looks so thrilled to just sit with him: it’s his friend. He’s not abandoning him. Even if his emotions are crawling up his throat.

The silence is amicable as they eat. The first flakes of snow start to fall, and Virgil’s attention is drawn to them immediately. He watches the snowflakes float down slowly, enraptured.

“You’d think you’ve never seen snow before,” Logan chuckles.

“Fuck off,” Virgil signs fluidly. He doesn’t even look at Logan, simply eats his sushi and quickly stands to spin in the snow. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes,” Logan agrees, as he watches Virgil laugh quietly and kick the powder around, as Virgil’s eyelashes are decorated with snowflakes, as he holds his tongue out like a child, as Virgil looks so free and unafraid in his lonesome company… “It’s quite beautiful indeed.”

~~~~

Patton’s coming back in two weeks. The second semester is almost over, spring finally showing her colours after a frigid winter, and Logan’s almost nervous. The music in his head doesn’t help whatsoever to calm him. What if something changes? It’s not like Patton’s staying, he’s allegedly very happy at his new school, but… Logan can’t help but worry at the idea that something in their dynamic will change irreparably if Patton reenters.

There’s nothing you can do about it, he assures himself once again, Just keep doing your job. Logan’s class lets out early, and he takes a brisk jog to meet Virgil outside his class. By now, Logan knows his schedule by heart and knows where to meet him.

He waits outside the lecture hall, student after student exiting… he waits until it’s fifteen minutes after his class has ended. Frowning, Logan peeks inside: it’s devoid of people, even the professor.

“Virgil?” he calls out into the empty room fruitlessly. Panic starts to rise inside of his chest as he calls for the anxious man. “Virgil? Virgil, where are you?”

He searches each aisle of the lecture hall, calling Virgil’s cell phone. Virgil hates it when he calls him, but if he’d just pick up, it means he’s okay. Logan feels incredibly antsy as he runs out of the room, sprinting at full force (he’s a strong man) around campus calling for Virgil. He wipes at his face: he can’t have the budding tears block his vision. He needs to find Virgil.

“Virgil, where are you? Virgil, I need to find you. Virgil, please please be okay,” he dashes around a corner and drives his heels in to stop.

Virgil.

His beloved hoodie in a secluded alleyway.

Logan reaches down and grasps it: he’d never leave it alone, let alone in a public place. Logan shakily picks it up into his hands, feeling the fabric: it’s dirtied. He gently folds it and puts it under his arm.

He’s starting to walk away when he hears the muffled shout and the sound of a punch’s impact.

“Oh, so you want to talk now, huh?” Another punch. “Fucker.”

Logan walks purposefully in the direction of the noise: two large women and one large man are whaling on Virgil, kicks and punches and spit, who’s curled up on the paved ground in the fetal position. Logan takes out the first buff woman with a strong punch to the side of her face, the second with a well placed kick and shove. The man runs away, pulling his fellows along with him.

“Virgil, they’re gone now. Are you alright?”

Virgil makes a broken sob, holding his midsection with his eyes downcast, and spits out some blood. Logan sighs and bends down to Virgil’s level, and wipes his mouth with a handkerchief from his book bag. He gives Virgil his hoodie (which he takes to immediately) and rubs his back.

I should’ve gone after them, made them pay-

“OH MY STARS, are the two of you alright?” a fanciful voice calls out from the entrance of the alley way.

“We just saw a trio of assholes running away with some wicked bruises-”

“Remus, that’s not the point!” The two boys walk into the alley, one worrying with a red letterman’s jacket and coiffed hair, the other (Remus) morbidly interested with a large denim jacket and wild hair sticking up every which way. They have the same face, unnervingly, though the wilder one sports a partially-grown mustache and the other has a scar though his eyebrow.

“Alright, alright, I’ll bite. Are you okay?” Remus asks, extending a hand to Virgil. Virgil looks away and tucks into Logan more. Remus retracts his hand with a shrug. Logan gives the both of them steely looks.

“If you’re here to promote any more harm or mockery, I advise you to leave concurrently.”

“Ooh, put those big words away, Daddy,” Remus mocks. His brother elbows him roughly.

“Remus, be nice. They’ve clearly been through quite the ordeal! Greetings, I’m Roman, this is Remus. We’re in Virgil’s class, and we saw him being… escorted, one could call it-”

“Forcibly swept away!”

“-Thank you Remus, out of class so we followed along after reporting it to the professor. He seems to be in quite a state: is there anything we can do?” Roman finishes, rolling his eyes at his twin. Logan sighs and adjusts his glasses. He doesn’t want to accept their help. He can take care of Virgil by himself. But…

He takes a closer look at the poor beaten man, at his bloodied mouth and shirt and his bruises and scrapes and thinks beyond him.

“I thank you for reporting it to the teacher. This is a heinous act, and I loathe to think of what would’ve happened if I arrived later or not at all,” he attempts to look thankful, but judging by their expressions, it doesn’t work. Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Could you alert the on campus clinic that we’ll be coming? One of you? The other can make sure they don’t come back as I take Virgil there,” with that, Logan takes a deep breath and gets to his feet, holding Virgil tightly in his embrace. Virgil turns into him, making a pained sound.

It breaks Logan’s poor heart. My friend, my friend, my friend- he’s hurt.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” he whispers to him.

“Cute!” “Ick.”

“Oh come on now, Remus, they’re precious!”

“I came over here for the bloody beat down! Not touchy feely lovey-dovey!”

“I will never understand you. You’re absolutely vile,”

“Ah, look in the mirror lately?”

“Excuse me,” Logan growls, diverting their attention from their bickering, “Are you going to help or not?”

“Ugh,” Remus rolls his eyes, “I guess I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Goodbye, Remus- you see, he’s a bit of a pain, always been that way,” Roman sticks his tongue out childishly at Remus, who returns the gesture in a more lewd fashion. “Alright, let’s help the emo up,” Roman extends his hands to help: Logan turns away, holding Virgil alone.

“He is not emo. Virgil is a selective mute,” Logan frowns at Roman.

“Aha, it’s just a mere quip!”

“Oh,” Logan swallows. They walk in near silence to the infirmary: How weird it is that the silence with Virgil seems familial and warm but with this Roman it feels charged and uncomfortable.

“You aren’t a very funny guy, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Logan glares at him through his glasses, holding Virgil tighter.

“Take no offense, but I mean… you’re very uptight! Serious. Grumpy. Straight to the point. I’ll stop prattling on synonyms, but I think you get the point now,” Roman explains.

“I- I’ve never thought about it that way. I presume you’re right,” he frowns. Logan’s never felt like any of those: he just likes working. And now he feels foolish: perhaps that’s the reason that he’s never gotten anywhere socially. Is it his inability to “quip”?

Would Virgil be happier with him if he could?

As if he heard his thoughts, Virgil winces in pain in his arms.

“Oh! Virgil. Should I hold you differently? Are you uncomfortable?” Virgil looks up at Logan blearily: his eyes open in recognition and a full-face blush breaks out all over his face. Virgil takes a bruised hand to hide his face.

“Awe look at ‘im! Debbie Downer is shy!” Logan whirls over to glare at Roman’s almond eyes angrily. Virgil turns away.

“Don’t talk to him that way,” he growls. Roman flushes and stammers.

“It was only teasing!”

“It was hurtful, and the last thing he needs right now is that. So do me a favor and leave those quips to yourself,” he reprimands.

“Yes, sir,” Roman salutes. Logan looks away from him and back to Virgil.

“Hey. Why did those thugs hurt you anyway?” he questions. Virgil frowns. “You don’t have to tell me-”

“No- I will. I was- I was singing in the bathroom,” he signs shyly.

“Wait- how could you-”

“Sometimes I talk when I’m alone. Or sing. I’m nervous around people, when I’m by myself it’s okay,”

“Oh,” Logan shouldn’t feel so betrayed, he knows he shouldn’t: this is the way Virgil is, after all. He’s a selective mute. He can speak when he wants. And if he doesn’t want to speak around Logan well- it’s fine. It’s his choice.

It shouldn’t bother Logan.

“So those jerks beat you up purely for the angelic music of your soul? Their cruelty knows no bounds, if they were to hurt you for communicating with your soulmate! How dare they, those vile, disgusting, cotton headed ninny muggin ruffians!” Roman supplies, filling Logan’s silence with declarations of war. Virgil laughs slightly at Roman, rolling his eyes. Logan swallows his questions, his pleas for “what about me?”.

Virgil can like whoever he wants. It doesn’t have to be just Logan.

~~~~

Virgil had asked Logan to drive him to the airport to pick up Patton. Logan wanted to say no, to say that he didn’t want to, hell, just leave him at the airport but… Virgil’s face betrayed his excitement, and Logan couldn’t put him down.

So now he’s waiting in the pick up zone with his car, waiting for Virgil to come back and completely ignore him again. Logan blinks.

Is that what this is about?

Does some part of Logan, some illogical part that manipulates his feelings, worry that Patton would mean Logan’s out of the picture? Logan grips the steering wheel. It’s Virgil’s choice! If he wants to hang out with Patton, sure. Sure. It’s fine.

Logan makes a low growl.

It’s not fine.

~~~~

And… there was nothing he could do. He stopped coming to visit Virgil during the mid-semester break: why should he? Virgil was with Patton. He’s happy. He doesn’t need Logan around…

Logan hates it. He hates not going over each day, each class ending with Virgil’s tiny smile.

He hates his soulmate, whoever he is, for singing so sadly whenever he wakes up.

“What's the name of the game? Does it mean anything to you? What's the name of the game? Can you feel it the way I do? Tell me please, 'cause I have to know… I'm a bashful child, beginning to grow…”

“Shut up,” Logan tells him quietly each time he goes at it again, “Shut up. I don’t want your questions, I can’t answer them.”

Logan, for the first time in his life, isn’t happy doing his work. There’s no gratification from finishing something: there’s no hunched over man beside him gesturing wildly as he finishes so quickly. There’s no giggle as he presses his glasses higher on his nose: there’s no smack on the shoulder when he corrects his work. It’s so… so bland. Was it always like this?

Before Virgil, was it always like this?

Logan finishes his test and hands it in at the front: his professor gives him a confused look. Logan twitches as his soulmate starts to sing: “It's you I like… not the things you wear…”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Adleman? You seem… listless, lately. Distracted. And you took all of the allotted time to finish your work- quite out of the ordinary, I’d say,”

“I assure you, sir, everything is normal,” he merely says, before adjusting his bag and exiting the classroom.

“Not the way you do your hair… but it's you I like,”

“Shut up,” Logan murmurs under his breath, walking stiffly with his head down down the hall. His soulmate’s voice is beautiful, as beautiful as always… but Logan can’t bear it. He’s already dealing with so much! To hear his soulmate’s longing notes doesn’t help. If anything, it exasperates his issues. Logan is grumbling under his breath when he hears it: and suddenly, all his issues get worse.

Patton’s in a classroom, with his teacher and a few students, singing to them:

“The way you are right now… way down deep inside you…”

“The way you are right now… way down deep inside you…” and his soulmate croons at the same time.

“Not the things that hurt you, not your toys; they're just beside… you,”

They both stop at the same note, and Logan swallows.

Patton.

Patton, smiley, hazel-eyed, exuberant, talkative, Patton, is his soulmate? Patton, the Patton he’s been mildly despising for the past few days.

I can’t believe it. But I presume… he has a right to know. And maybe we can make this work?

“Ah… Patton,” Patton’s face whirls to Logan’s in the door, and his face lights up. Logan can’t help but set his face: aren’t soulmates supposed to elicit some kind of joy in their partners? When they finally figure it out, isn’t it supposed to be some revelation?

“Logan!! How nice!! I haven’t seen you this whole trip, what a delight! Virgil’s been all out of sorts without you around, it seems,” Patton grins, sliding off the desk he was sitting on and walking over to Logan.

“I- I think- I think you’re my soulmate,” he stammers.

“What?”

“I- I heard your singing, in my head, as you were singing in here-”

“Oh my god. No, no, Logan,” Patton smiles at Logan tearfully, his hands landing on his shoulders, “That was Virgil. I started singing that song because Virgil was singing it again when I left.”

“That’s- that’s impossible how-”

“If you need any more proof, then just look at my soulmate: I met him at school, he flew in after me,” Patton smiles dreamily and waves at a man sitting in the corner, typing on his phone: he has two black forearm crutches and deep burn scars across the left side of his face.

“Hullo,” he greets from the other side of the room, “I’m Janus. Pleasure, fellow Patton soulmate,” Logan’s mouth dries as Patton giggles.

“It’s really Virgil. That- that makes a lot of sense but- I can’t believe it-”

“Okay, how about this, Lo?” Logan’s nose scrunches at the nickname, “I’m going to send a message to Virgil: and you go sneak back to the apartment. He’ll sing. It’ll match up. Then you have to confess. He’s thought he’s been alone… for so long. He’ll be so happy: so thrilled to have a soulmate… even more so if it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patton shakes his head, chuckling. Logan looks away: his teary eyes are too much for him. Logan clears his throat.

“Let our third go, Pat!” Janus calls, his voice smooth. Logan casts him a glare, though he blushes, and walks off. Thousands of thoughts swirl through his head, clouding his vision. He almost loses his way to the dorms. His mind is so full, so so so full, and then a voice breaks through it all.

“If I could ride a bike, I’d zoom around the world, with you sitting there behind me…”

Logan’s breath hitches. If that’s Virgil, he hates not seeing it before. Meeting him and not loving him right away. Not beating around the bush. But embracing him with everything he is, using all he knows to help all he needs.

“I’ll take you to places, past several faces… just livin life so carefree. If I could sail a boat, I'd cruise across the seas, a sweet adventure for us two,”

His pace increases as he gets to the dorms: he runs up the stairs maybe a little too fast. The music increases in volume but perhaps it’s in his head. The door to Virgil’s room is cracked open.

“I'll be Jack and you Rose, just please don’t let me go, cause I'll be nothing without you. Oh when you call me… I'm drifting on clouds, like I'm dreaming,”

Logan’s footsteps falter as he peers through the door. Virgil, with a guitar, singing those notes so sweetly. It matches up in his head, it matches perfectly, and despite himself, Logan starts to er up. It’s perfect harmony, it makes his heart swell and the whole world brightens.

This is what it’s supposed to be like. This is my soulmate. Virgil’s voice rises and falls, and it becomes so mind numbingly soft.

“But in the morning, I'll wake up and see that you're stuck… here with me,” Virgil sings, his voice sad, “If only you knew, what I would do for you. I'd jump up and hold you… so tightly…” Virgil sobs, “Logan. Logan. I’m sorry. Whatever I did. I’m sorry. I miss you.”

Logan’s chest pulls. His voice is like an angel. Virgil, his soulmate, wants him back. Everything he thought… was wrong. He needs to tell him, he needs to-

No. No, it would embarrass both of them, and Virgil’s anxious. He needs to do it in a way that would make no room for error, no room for suspicion of any foul intent.

Logan… needs to sing.

~~~~

It’s all planned out, only a few days later. The sun is out, the weather is warm. Patton has Virgil entertained, introducing him to Janus in the front lawn. Roman and Remus are keeping people away in their respective fashions so that they have privacy. Logan adjusts his tie, getting ready in their apartment. He wants to have the song at it’s apex before meeting him as his soulmate.

Logan clutches the ring in his pocket: a customary soulmate ring, black and fitted to Virgil’s finger. They haven’t been together, and he doesn’t have to accept it of course but… he wants to do this right.

This has to be perfect.

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to sing.

“I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore… If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before,” Logan sings softly. He chuckles- something so foriegn to him, so averse to what he wanted to do just a week ago- and he doesn’t sound bad. As he sings the next few lines, he runs out to the window by the elevators and can just barely make out Virgil on a picnic blanket rising to his feet and looking around confusedly. Logan carefully walks down the stairs, taking his time as he goes:

“So I say- thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing. Thank you for all the joy they’re bringing: who can live without it? I asked in all honesty, what would life be- without a song or a dance, what are we? So I say thank you for the music, for giving it… to me,” he sings, breaking out into the fresh air. Logan sings the next few stanzas under his breath, making his way to Virgil’s picnic spot. Virgil’s standing up, shaking Patton’s shoulder and signing wildly.

“I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair: I wanna sing it out to everybody…. What a joy, what a life, what a chance!” his voice rises as he nears the grass, heart beating wildly.

Virgil’s fallen to his knees, his crying sounding even from where Logan stands, dozens of feet away.

“Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing. Thanks for all the joy they're bringing. Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty… What would life be? Without a song or a dance what are we? So I say thank you for the music,” he’s suddenly close, standing at Virgil. Virgil looks up, tears running down his face. He gasps: he smiles: he laughs. “For giving it to me.”

Virgil stumbles to his feet, and wraps his arms around Logan’s middle. He chuckles, and hugs him back, squeezing him tightly. Virgil cries into his chest, hiccuping and laughing all the same.

“So I say,” he rubs his back, and presses a light kiss into his hair, “Thank you for the music, for giving it… to me.”

There’s no fanfare, no wild confetti or cheering. It’s quiet, as Patton and Janus laugh and Virgil tearily accepts his ring before digging back into his chest. It would be perfect like this but then…

“Logan,” Virgil whispers, hiding in his chest, “Logan.” It’s so quiet, but it makes his heart burst in joy. Virgil didn’t have to say anything, he would love him anyway, but it shows. It shows the trust.

“Surprise,” he whispers back, pulling him in closer. “Thank you. For everything, Virgil.”

~~~~~

The End! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed!

Taglists:

Anything & Everything: @myraiswack, @blindtaleteller, @head-over-heart, @karushinekomiya

Sides of the Sanders: @a-goldengirl-in-a-condominium246

If you enjoyed, please reblog- it truly means the world.

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#analogical #mociet #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fandom #soulmate au #sanders sides soulmate au #logan #virgil #patton #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thank you for the music #logan x virgil

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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Text

Summer Nights (3)

A/N: INDEX

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual alludes, and... that’s it??

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee @bforbroadway @okaydraco

So her name was Y/N.

Draco couldn't help himself but wonder about her for the past few days, after their encounter in the restaurant. As he thought more and more of her, he decided she was more of a changeable person, judging on what he had learned about her; timid and coy one day in the lobby when he first arrived, and plainly confident on another when she approached him to return his fucking wand.

And did she believe in that fictive tale about him playing a magician? Did she sense his sudden abashment when she started to question him on the subject?

He blamed himself for the whole situation, which could have never happened if he only were more careful. He assumed he had lost the wand when his mother furiously dragged him back to his hotel room from the bar he had stopped by for a while. Perhaps, it was when he had handed the receptionist, Y/N, the letter, and it just dropped out of his pocket as he was taking an envelope out.

Fortunately for him, it found its way back. So he didn't have to trouble his head with that now, right?

One issue, however, stuck to his thoughts and vividly came back every time he glanced at his hand, only to see blurry words written with a hard-to-efface ink. Of course, by none other than Y/N.

A few days back, she had scribbled her name and a number on his palm, and since then, he tried to figure out what it was for. He knew he couldn't walk out to the city and stop people in the middle of the pavement to ask for an explanation for the note because it would be as irrational and bizarre as it sounds. The second thought was to ask his mother for an additional conjecture about that by sending an owl. But then he quickly remembered, he didn't have access to any of owls here and -- so and so -- he didn't know the address Narcissa was staying at.

So both options were excluded.

Soon enough, however, the situation cropped up. Someday around six in the morning, still sound asleep and immersed in the dreams, the strange, alarming sound rang up in his bedroom, echoing off the walls and waking half of the death of him as he heard it. He flopped off his bed with the sheets falling along with him, and he began looking for the source of the noise. Then he noticed: a white handset and a set of ten digits next to it; he picked it up -- it was only a hotel checking up if he needed anything.

From then on, everything lined up and made a perfectly logical sense in his head -- it was a muggle device to communicate with each other. If you were desperate enough not to meet up with somebody in the real-life, you were likely to click nine digits and either meet with the receiver's voice or voicemail on the other side. So here was a purpose of the number.

Draco also discovered these things were so-called phones. And they were sold in various forms and types like the models of brooms in the Wizarding World -- from less to most exclusive ones. Little did his consciousness helped him, but after an hour, he was already out in the city and walking next to the shops' exhibitions and searching for an electronics store to buy himself one of those.

Why did he want to buy the phone? He could lie and say that it was only in case of emergency. But admitting truthfully to himself, he felt a nagging curiosity about those devices and wanted to understand this part of the muggle world. And something, more of a hunch than reasoning, told him that he soon might be needing one of those.

Later that day, after wandering for almost an hour and stepping into some cafeteria for lunch, he was finally holding a fucking iPhone in his hand. It had a lot of fancy shining buttons and a small, black partly-bitten apple on the back, and some kind of virtual assistant (at least that's what he had heard from a salesman) Siri with a very posh British accent. Having been advised to purchase it, Draco did so even without a second thought.

He paid for it with some muggle money his mother provided him before her departure, and walked out of the store, having it packed in a nice paper bag with a receipt and a SIM card. He decided on opening it when he reaches his room, and meanwhile, look around the area for some entertainment or something in those terms, to preoccupy himself.

Actually, Draco hadn't been too much in foreign countries, and hauling him out to Muggle London was a miracle, much more to Muggle Paris. He could find a similarity, but it was much different here -- cars honking at each other at the traffic jam; countless shops with clothes; restaurants with delicious food; people babbling at one another in French but also in Italian and German, and English. It was chaotic; it was loud, and he had to watch his feet in order to not trip over by someone else.

Draco felt lost in that mess. Random people encouraging him to visit the shops he would never intend to drop by, strangers pushing him in a rush and mumbling indistinct 'Sorry' for stepping on his shoes, some even too bothered to even look at him. Partly, he wished he had never listened to Narcissa and instead spending time with Thoe, Blaise, or whosoever and talking about irrelevant stuff like the score of the last Quiddich match (Banchory Bangers against Falmouth Falcons) or about the latest affairs with the Ministry of Magic.

And what was he even doing here?

In mere seconds, he decided on changing a route back again to the hotel instead of meandering aimlessly and optimistically, waiting for some godsend to find.

What he wasn't, however, considering was actually finding some godsend in front of the revolving doors of the hotel building.

Yet again, as if some supernatural powers brought them to the same place every time, he was standing on the opposite side of the door where Y/N. It was the late afternoon, so instead of wearing the usual white shirt in the composition of black jeans, she had a green top and striped, yellow shorts with a small watch on her wrist.

She was turned, slightly to the side, so it was her profile he saw as she waved probably at one of her friends, smiling broadly. Draco never really paid much attention to the girl, especially to her looks, but now as his eyes roamed over her standing figure in those a little too revealing clothes, he felt a gulp forming in his throat. Her hair was falling on her shoulders, the beam plastered to her face, and she seemed to be a radiating sphere of positivity.

For the last time, she blew her friend a kiss, and then she was looking at him, infinitely shocked at the sight of him behind the window, staring at her. Draco blinked, snatching out of thoughts.

Y/N made her way out, gripping her big handbag and throwing it hastily on the shoulder and a glowing grin waving over her face again. "Nice to see you again," she said. "I thought you would call."

He furrowed his brows, detecting the faint trace of hope in her voice and feeling his heart take up on the speed. "Well... I was just about to. In the room. I bought a phone..." He lifted the sack in his hand. "...and was about to dial your number."

"Really?" she asked, slightly startled and happy at the same time. She brushed some of her hair behind the ear. "Didn't you have the phone?"

"I left it at home." It was the quickest lie he could conceive. He playfully rolled his eyes, indicating the slight amusement at his alleged absentmindedness. "Just heading back from the shop."

She laughed at that. "Right." Suddenly, her cheeks were covered in a light scarlet, and she dropped her gaze at her feet for three seconds, as if she was about to share something very, very secretive with him. Then she was eyeing him again. "Listen... I've just ended a shift. Maybe you would like to go somewhere? I promised I'll show you around the most interesting spots. Are you up to that?"

Draco contemplated, taking in a small breath. Some part of him really lingered to give it a shot and go out with her, seeing where it carries them, as spontaneous as it was. It wasn't a date, and she was practically a stranger, but... what kind of a stranger! A quiet voice in his head told him this was what kept him away from the idea; disclosing his doubts -- her sparkling with joy eyes and the effect she had on him. A mere fact of him pondering the question was pure evidence it mattered to him, and he definitely tried to kick in with a good impression.

That left him with no more answer than: "Yeah, sure."

For some reason, Y/N let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little, looking as if she was about to hear bad news but heard the contrary instead. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, she realized, as soon as she spoke up because the embarrassment welled up on her face. Yet another blush brushed her cheeks, and she chuckled at herself. "Sorry. Bad habits from the reception."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. He liked it, actually, but obviously wasn't going to say that out loud. "Don't mind," he assured her. "Shall we--"

"Before we do," Y/N cut him in, already guessing the upcoming rest of the sentence. "I suggest you leave that stuff..." She pointed her finger at the bag he was carrying. "...in the room. We might be wandering some hours in the heat. So it might not be the best idea."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing with her pertinent advice. "I'll meet you downstairs in... five minutes, then."

She shifted a little, still grinning like a maniac and watching him with sparkling eyes. "Okay," she said, as Draco was making to walk past her, feeling the strangest hint of excitement creeping in his chest. As he was nearing the doorway, he heard her shouting behind his back, "I'll be waiting here!" And the tiniest of his rare smiles formed on his lips.

XOXOXOXO

"So tell me something about yourself, Draco." Y/N looked at him, a light of interest entering her eyes.

As decided, they had met up a few minutes later in front of the entrance to the hotel and then took on the route. Draco had asked her about any potential propositions of where there should go, to which Y/N only smiled mysteriously and said it was a surprise.

So now they were walking hand-in-hand, taking almost the same pace as they strolled in the rhythm of the roads. The buzz still could be heard, and people prattling loudly, but this time -- as Draco noted -- instead of crowding in the center of the noise, Y/N led him through some stealthy alleys only a real dweller could know about. There were still laughs and talks coming, but much quieter.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, not quite comprehending how he should answer her question. He had been in some relationships, some successful and some not, but no one had really paid much interest in him. Not really him.

"Uh, you know. Where do you hail from, what are your hobbies, why did you come to France? Whatever you want, actually." Y/N chortled, offering him a small smile of encouragement. The sun rays were smoothly emphasizing her beauty; skin glistening under the daily light. Draco couldn't help himself but think of how her hands would feel on his shoulders and--

'Focus Draco,' he scolded himself for drifting far, far away with his imagination.

"Well," he started. "I'm from England, what you can guess by my accent. I play piano, learned Italian and Spanish, and...you know, basic stuff." He omitted the part he was a captain of his Quidditch team at school for almost five years which was his biggest pride. "My mother forced me to come here."

"Oh," Y/N seemed to be a little surprised by his confession because she made a fish-like face. "Didn't you want to come?"

"Not quite," Draco admitted truthfully. Before she was able to ask him for a reason for that, he outstripped her. "Had a tough time lately. My friend...died."

Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and in an instant, her expression turned from cheerful to a regretful one. "I'm sorry," she said, massive uncomfortableness visible on her face.

He shrugged, making his faultless poker face to the game as if it didn't affect him at all -- blank and uncaring. But it hit him. Always did. He didn't like to talk about his post-war experience; even recalling it in his mind was torture.

'If she only knew,' Draco thought. 'She wouldn't be so eager to get acquainted.'

Before he could pay off with as much interest as she did to him, Y/N was gesturing excitedly to the name on the corner of the building, located right next to the extensive, artificial beach with impeccably clean water. There were quite a few people enjoying themselves and sitting on the warm sand, but not throng as Draco could expect from a place like that. "Here we are!"

Not only the sand, but a minibar was there as well: a small deckhouse in the midway of the shore and pavement; a few wooden stools; and the bartender who was shaking a cocktail mixer in his hands.

Shortly after, however, the man behind the counter noticed them approaching. He shot Draco a brief look, and then his gaze landed straight at Y/N, who also perceived him glancing at her. He seemed to be happy at the sight of her, and his eyes swept momentarily over her figure, perhaps identifying if it really was a person he thought it was, and then he gestured for her to come closer. Y/N seized Draco's forearm, tugging him to come along with her, and Draco, left without any other choices, followed.

Y/N began speaking something French with him, and he heatedly answered her back in a sort of enthusiastic voice. Apparently, they must have known each other because, after seconds, they started joking around, laughing, and patting each others' shoulders like old friends. It took quite a moment, but the bartender eventually focused his attention on Draco, who was standing next to Y/N and was trying to make any sense out of the conservation. The man asked something, curiously arching his brow yet again at Y/N, who flushed suddenly. Clearly flustered with his question, she playfully smacked him at the top of his head and turned to face Draco.

"Sorry for that," she said, putting both of her elbows on the countertop and making a slight pout of guiltiness. "It's just an old friend of mine. I used to come here a lot in the past, so we know each other... pretty well, I guess."

That arose Draco's curiosity, and he didn't miss a chance to ask her. "Don't you come here anymore?"

"No." The readiness of this reply surprised him a little bit. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift at her shoes, which -- Draco noticed -- was her typical reaction when she was nervous. "I... I used this place to meet up with my boyfriend. My father didn't approve of our relationship -- he assumed there was something iffy about him and that he had bad intentions." Chuckling dryly, she tried to cover up her emotions, though the sadness was hitched to her voice. "He was right. He used me and then dumped me, saying it meant nothing."

Although he felt an urge to hug her, he held it back and stared at her, not really knowing what to say. Should he console her by telling her the man was a pig and she clearly deserved better? Or should he keep silent, only proving himself to be a good listener? It was very confusing for him to be around girls who cry and complain and expect reassurance in their words. He witnessed Pansy weeping a lot of times, but she was the one to instruct him what to do by throwing herself at him and lingering in the embrace. But Y/N was new to him, and it was no easy way to find out what she wanted him to say.

"Sucks," he uttered under his breath before the awareness kicked in.

What the fuck, you dolt?! Is it how you want to comfort her?

Fortunately, Y/N didn't receive his words as critically as he because her eyes lighted up, and she giggled softly. "Yeah... But I learned from that. I try to be warier now."

The bartender poked her suddenly on the shoulder, making some mumbling and incomprehensible sound. Y/N nodded and slightly tilted her head to have a better view of Draco. "Jean asks if you want a drink. He recommends Brave Bull. Brags that he can do the best one in the country."

"Mhm... Let it be it," he agreed, giving up on his usual liquor and dipping into more muggle-like specials. He attempted to force a smile on the lips, trying to give it more of a tone of a request than a demand.

She reciprocated the gesture, and then she turned to her friend, leaning casually against the bar and expertly translating the conversation. He only nodded, smiling, and grabbed the nearest bottle of some booze to pour the contents into the glass along with some other ingredients.

"Here you go," the bartender, Jean, tried out his amateur English, but remnants of French accent could be heard. He laid two glasses of alcohol -- one fiercely brown; the other one, blue with a cocktail umbrella inside -- on the countertop and grinned. Before Draco could take out some cash to pay, Jean's voice echoed again, still with a little stammering accent. "Free!"

Y/N and Draco made their way to a nearby bench, both calmly sipping their drinks and looking at the horizon as the sun set down, disappearing out of your sight. It was strange for Draco how comfortable he felt in her presence; the comfort he hadn't experienced for years in anyone's company. Although he was aware you had met a few days ago, something in your relationship gave him enough space to be himself. And he liked it.

Draco chanced to glance at Y/N, and she was already looking.

"I like coming here," she started hastily, as to conceal she was staring. "It's calming."

As an excuse to tear their eye contact, Draco scanned the beach again, and he could definitely get her point. The place was nothing but charming. "Agree."

"You know... It was my inspirational area when I drew. I first found it when I got into a huge fight with my father. Since then, I have used it as an escape from the outer world. It was a mistake that I shared it with my ex, but... you seem to be a proper person."

Draco didn't miss the compliment, and a barely visible blush danced on his cheeks. He felt his pulse speeds up, heart pounding at the sudden realization of their proximity. "You drew? Is it past tense?"

"Yes." Y/N nodded swiftly, grunting. "I love to capture the moments I find beauty in: people, places, specific objects. I even aspired to go to art studies. But..." She exhaled deeply, preparing herself to continue. "...they are too costly. My father says so... I don't blame him; I know he tries. But I stopped myself from having hopes."

Draco listened, and the pity churned his stomach. Taking a nip of his drink, an idea popped up in his head. "Do you have those drafts?"

"Right now?" Y/N asked, shocked, to which Draco responded only with a short nod. "Yes, I usually carry them --er-- in my bag. I had to throw them away... but I just couldn't."

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, for the first time, as Draco saw, reluctance appeared on her face. She deflated, apparently battling with doubts. "Ummm... Yes." And then she slipped her hand into her motley bag, rummaging intensely. After mere seconds, she finally found what she was looking for -- the set of papers bound neatly around by a fine twine and clip, to the additional perseverance.

Y/N passed him, what seemed to be many hours of her solid work, and he examined them closely. What Draco could say is that he wasn't an expert in the field, but he unconditionally believed that those sketches required a lot of talent to draw as precise as they were. He was in awe, really -- the accurate contours given the best preciseness; the attention paid even to the smallest details; gradings made with soft touches of a pencil. The drawings presented a lot: random people walking in a rush, natural landscapes, some sculptures lined up in front of a building, even the least relevant objects like shoes or an apple. That, of course, didn't discourage Draco from watching further -- he flipped the pages, soundlessly, and a little too fascinated to utter a thing.

"And what do you think?" asked Y/N, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh and (unnecessarily) preparing herself for a flow of criticism. Her gaze darted between Draco's face and the sketches.

"I... think you have a gift," he complimented her, weighing the great truth in his words.

"Really?" Y/N asked him in disbelief, blushing profusely. "Thanks! But --er-- you can take them if you want. It'd be easier for me to know I give them in the good hands than throwing them away."

The 'good hands' comment flattered Draco, and he felt almost honored to accept the offer. "Yes. Thank you." He buried the works deeply in his pocket.

He would definitely make good use of those. He had a plan.

XOXOXO

A/N: Okay, hi everyone! It was supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it into more chapters with less word count instead. Nothing is happening yet, but you can already feel some tension, right? :D The next chapter is going to be super, super short. So I might be posting it within two days or so??? Idk yet, and it’s not a promise because I have a nice surprise (spoiler! a new one-shot) coming and a few requests to answer, so it might also take a moment. But please, stick with me :D If anyone wants to appear on the tag list, write in comments, DM, or wheresoever!

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mythicalcoolkid · 3 years

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I wish there was a primer on social boundaries. Things like:

what kind of things are appropriate to say to people at certain relationships (ex: things that would be fine for a friend but overly familiar with a teacher)

signs as to what your relation to someone is (ex: someone you say hi to when you pass is an acquaintance, but someone you text daily may be a friend)

levels of touch that are generally considered appropriate/normal for different relationships (ex: you likely wouldn’t hug someone you just met, but a high-five or fist bump may be okay)

when certain conversation topics may be inappropriate (ex: suddenly bringing up a very heavy topic during jokey conversation, making sexual jokes in a professional setting)

signs others may be uninterested in what you’re saying/suggesting

actual clear body language or conversational signs that someone is uncomfortable or wants to end the conversation (ex: not things like “crossing legs,” but things like “shifting away or making eye contact with others during a one-on-one conversation”)

the same as the last one but over text

complimenting others appropriately

actually good topics for small talk or get-to-know-you conversation

how to broach delicate subjects at various relationship levels

how to make social invitations

how to decline social invitations without it sounding like an excuse

favors that are conventionally appropriate to ask at various relationship levels (ex: you may be able to ask a friend to rub your shoulders, but with an acquaintance it’s likely not appropriate unless they offer first)

how certain time frames are viewed socially (ex: is ten dates considered “a lot?” Is a year of dating a significant amount of time?)

I understand that the gut response to a lot of these may be “just ask the person! Everyone is different! You can’t generalize people!” But the thing is, a lot of these questions do have cultural norm answers to them. In the culture I live in, it’s generally appropriate to offer a handshake when you meet someone, and it’s generally inappropriate to try to kiss them. Sure everyone will have different views - there are likely some people who would be fine with platonically locking lips on meeting their new coworker. But there’s a general social view that making out with someone after being introduced is not appropriate, and violating that norm will make everyone extremely uncomfortable

Neurotypical people tend to take for granted a lot of basic social things like this that neurodivergent people never got an opportunity to learn

#long post #mine #I know the basic answers to some of these - I'm actually pretty good at small talk and well-liked by the people I interact with regularly #but a lot of these I've never really known

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bestworstcase · 3 years

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for months i’ve been dwelling on the, like, foundational differences between canon cassandra and bitter snow cassandra and meaning to write a. write-up of those differences and basically:

appearance

- canon cass is a bog standard slender but curvaceous woman with disney sameface and wavy hair and that is not how we roll in this household

- one day i am going to do a proper design sheet for bitter snow cassandra but in the meantime this gets the gist across. cheekbones, strong jaw, squarish face, bigger more defined nose with a bump, thicker eyebrows, curls. plus, stocky and muscular. i imagine her being like 5′7″ she’s pretty short.

- it is just emotionally important to me that all of you know bitter snow cassandra is not a skinny waif

- also she is trans

- disney heroine syndrome aside it’s clear that the intention is for canon cass to bear a strong resemblance to gothel, but - there being no biological relationship between bitter snow cass and gothel - i don’t imagine there being a significant similarity in her appearance and calanthe’s. obv they’re both strong-faced women with dark curly hair but that’s the extent of it.

cutting here for length

parentage/family

- this is the obvious category lol

- canon cassandra is gothel’s biological daughter, father unknown. she was an only child, and if she had other living biological relatives then we did not get to meet them.

- gothel abandoned her and she was thereafter raised by the captain of the guard, unaware of her heritage.

- bitter snow cassandra is the daughter of sholar and morana hároham, who were farmers of no particular renown in the remote saporian village of socona. she has/had two aunts—sholar’s older sister sirin hároham, and her partner maíne dathámar—who had two children, tathēdora (tath) and cornaīn, both older than cassandra.

- cassandra also has a number of living relatives in artois: her maternal grandparents perun and sibéal ghealach, their other children ronan and acanth, and their families. the ghealach side of the family is estranged from the hároham side and has been for two decades.

- several months after rapunzel’s birth, sholar and morana were implicated as ringleaders in the socona poisonings—an (alleged) terroristic attack on the royal court of corona involving tainted crops, which killed six and sickened dozens more, queen arianna included. they, and seven other farmers from the area, were arrested and swiftly hanged for treason.

- sir peter morgenstern, then a sergeant, was among the guards sent to arrest the hárohams and found cassandra in their home. he brought her back to herzingen with him, put her in an orphanage there, and then adopted her himself three years later once things settled down.

- except there was no treason or conspiracy. the socona “poisonings” were in actuality the result of a magical blight that burned through southern corona from artois to alcorsīa, killing hundreds and leaving its survivors disabled; the farmers of socona were a politically convenient scapegoat, nothing more.

- maíne died in the first wave of blight-sickness. tath also became ill but survived for another fourteen years before succumbing to a secondary infection. cornaīn was killed almost four years after that by soldiers aboard a coronan prison barge. besides cassandra, sirin is the only surviving member of the hároham family.

- cassandra is informed of the coronan version of the story when she is ten years old, and learns the truth from sirin shortly before her twenty-third birthday.

trauma!

...which brings us to this section.

canon cass

- suffered early childhood neglect and emotional abuse in gothel’s care. witnessed her mother’s abandonment at the age of four. this early trauma was exacerbated by the captain, and she suppressed the memories of her life with gothel.

- her sense of self worth is tied to service and what she is able to do for other people; this was inculcated in her by gothel through parentification and neglect, and inadvertently reinforced by the captain’s militaristic and emotionally distant approach to parenting. he taught her to “earn her keep,” and seems to have used the credible threat of forced imprisonment in a convent to encourage good behavior.

- that lack of self worth is further exacerbated by her station as a servant. cassandra’s closest—and perhaps only—friend is the princess she is duty-bound to serve, and this relationship becomes more and more toxic for her as time goes on and rapunzel repeatedly and consistently transgresses her boundaries. she has no viable support network and by the end of s2, she is completely alienated from her friend group and vulnerable to zhan tiri’s abuse.

- learning about gothel is the final straw that pushes her over the edge, leading her to take the moonstone herself and lash out and rapunzel and corona in a blind rage with encouragement from zhan tiri.

bitter snow cass

- sholar and morana were loving parents, and as a child cassandra was doted upon by her aunts, cousins [tath being 5 years older, and cornaīn 3], and the tight-knit socona community in general. around 4 she started to become insistent on being a girl, and was both allowed and encouraged to live as one.

- the blight began approximately one and a half months before cassandra’s fifth birthday. maíne became sick and died very suddenly, and both tath and morana became severely ill almost as fast. the arrests began in tárosh, just weeks before cassandra would turn five. the trauma of all this and her abrupt removal from her home was all intensely traumatic for her, and compounded by her negligible grasp of the coronan language at the time.

- in the orphanage in herzingen cassandra was mostly neglected and left to her own devices, but punished harshly for speaking saporian or asking for her parents. she began to suppress her memories of socona and her fluency in saporian was badly degraded. she continued to live as a girl but began to grasp that the particulars of her girlhood were not acceptable in herzingen and went to great lengths to avoid being identified as trans.

- shortly after her adoption, she met feldspar willipeg, who took her under his wing and helped her relearn and retain the saporian language as well as reintroducing her—lightly and delicately—to certain aspects of saporian culture. he remained an important anchor to her saporian heritage and friend/mentor throughout her life.

- being a saporian child growing up in herzingen was traumatic in and of itself. much of her sense of self-worth is wrapped up in the idea of being coronan, and her various failures to measure up in this regard. she is riddled with self-disgust and self-hatred after years of active, subtle and not-so-subtle coercion to reject her saporian heritage. as a child and young adult she feels a tremendous pressure to demonstrate loyalty and service to the kingdom of corona in order to ‘prove’ that she is not like her parents. these internal feelings often manifests as compulsive acts of self-sacrifice or self-sabotage.

- after she learns the truth of her parent’s innocence, her sense of identity and self-worth come unmoored altogether and she begins to oscillate wildly between defiant pride and vicious self-loathing. she is able to find community and solace with other saporians—moira caine and the crew of the zampermin—but her self-hatred and doubts continue to fester, and she struggles with feeling alienated from both her saporian heritage and her coronan upbringing.

key behavioral differences

- both canon cassandra and bitter snow cassandra are defined by their inability to articulate what they truly want. however, the sheer depth and breadth of the injustices bitter snow cassandra faces do mean that she is able to describe broad long-term goals or desires in a way that canon cassandra is not: she supports saporia’s side in the emergent civil war, and she wants redress for what was done to her family. where canon cassandra agonizes over shapelessly vague notions of “destiny” and “proving herself,” bitter snow cassandra wrestles with more concrete questions—how does she reconcile her friendship with rapunzel and her newfound separatist sympathies? what role will she play in corona’s civil war once the black rock problem is dealt with? who does she want to be? is [insert problem that is absolutely not her fault] secretly her fault?—and this gives her a certain sense of direction even when she is floundering and unable to come up with any answers.

- bitter snow cassandra seeks to separate herself from rapunzel and embraces the support of other friends long before canon cassandra’s friendship with rapunzel even begins to truly sour. there are several reasons for this; the situation in herzingen becomes untenable for her after she learns the truth and her loyalties change, and the simple fact that she has somewhere else to go enables her to leave. but also, rapunzel’s difficulty accepting her shifted allegiance and saporian heritage in general accelerate the crumbling of their relationship. at the same time, however, because bitter snow cassandra has both left rapunzel’s service and found a solid support network of her own, she is actually much better equipped than canon cassandra to assert her boundaries with rapunzel and attempt to repair their friendship.

#bitter snow

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facets-and-rainbows · 4 years

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Blue Exorcist 10th anniversary book Q&A session

The 10th anniversary book has a section where Katoh answers 100 questions submitted by fans on Twitter, so here they are translated/paraphrased! May contain manga spoilers up to the recent flashback arc, so be warned.

(Note that I’m playing it very fast and loose here because there are A HUNDRED OF THEM, so not exact wordings, but it should capture the gist. Lemme know if there are any you want elaborated on)

1. Katoh likes the feel of traditional drawing more than digital but is impressed with how far digital has come

2. Meph THOROUGHLY ABUSES spacetime to watch all his shows and ensure that he gets all the merch he wants

3. Did the girls take all of Yukio’s school uniform buttons in middle school? Yes, they did (apparently it’s like A Thing for girls to ask for a button from their crush at middle school graduation, based on some sad movie from the 60s where a guy who got drafted as a kamikaze pilot gave a girl one of his uniform buttons to remember him by)

4. Rin's tail is about a meter long

5. There are tons of servants working at Mephisto's mansion. Belial is in charge of them

6. Katoh borrows from all sorts of neat real locations when making settings

7. Katoh identifies with pretty much all the characters the most! Except Lucifer.

8. Demon designs she's proud of include the impure king and hachirou, pretty much anything that was the main one in an arc

9. Katoh lists a bunch of her favorite musical artists/music she’s listening to recently: King Gnu, Official Hige Dandism, Kenshi Yonezu, BAD HOP, Sakanaction, Keyakizaka 46, Hypnosis Mic, Aimer, B’Z, Queen Bee.

10. Awww the rabbit manga that characters are often reading isn't just Robo to Usakichi, it's an even older one that she drew as a little kid

11. She likes industrial style interior designs

12. Rin and Yukio alternated who got the top bunk growing up, because they couldn't agree on it lol

13. Katoh cares a whole lot about panel layouts and speech bubble positions, might even be her favorite part of the process (it shows!)

4. Katoh does NOT have a mashou, lol

15. Rin has probably been practicing in secret so he can learn to carry stuff with his tail

16. Izumo probably got into shojo manga around 1st grade, her mom had some around the house

17. Specialty dishes: Rin - lots of stuff but especially nabe Yuri - stuff you can throw together quickly Shiro - stuff he learned from Yuri and/or cookbooks, alongside teaching Rin Yukio - Does. Not. Cook.

18. Can't pick a favorite place she's been on research, but there's no place like Japan

19. Kinzou's band isn't currently meeting because demons, but he's probably still thinking of new songs

20. Hardest characters to draw: anyone with detailed flowing hair. Hardest to write for: Lightning and Gedouin. She had to go read books about serial killers specifically for material for Gedouin, lol

21. Suguro actually gets a dorm room to himself, though allegedly Yukio is technically assigned as his roommate, lol. Didn't end up that way what with Yukio being a teacher and also Rin’s whole...situation

22. Shiemi makes some of her own hair accessories! Cute

23. Katoh doesn't mind if you include stuff with fan letters but check with the editor first

24. Time for making each chapter: Planning/storyboarding: 1-5 days. Sketching: 3-5 days. Drawing/inking: the rest. Just...the rest of the time

25. Neither Suguro nor Izumo have dated before and neither is currently dating. But that's probably just because things were hectic for them! It could happen

26. Yukio breaks 5 or 6 pairs of glasses a year, someone get this kid a strap or something

27. How many spare glasses does Yukio have? Check the fanbook lol it's in there (dang it Katoh)

28. The demon she wants us to pay the most attention to is Lucifer. Because plot.

29. What's under the Order's big meeting table? It's a BOTTOMLESS PIT and if you fall in it you DIE that's what makes it COOL (laughs)

30. What are the job requirements for the angelic legion? Literally just Arthur liking you and inviting you to join

31. She WANTS to do more character profiles but just hasn't gotten to it

32. Rin's tail feels like a cat tail, texture wise

33. The "red Assiah fire" is literally just actual fire nothing special

34. Rin's current hair color is light blue fading to white at the ends

35. Thoughts on Rin's growth: she likes that he stays positive in awful situations and she also thinks it's very main character of him to face the past instead of avoiding it

36. Mephisto didn't purposely surround Rin with stuffed animals when he woke up after going crispy. Mephisto's bed is just Like That

37. Kurikara was based on a cool sword she found in a sword book, but that one was technically just a ceremonial sword. The symbol on it us a Sanskrit letter kaan (sp?) associated with Fudou Myouou

38. Kuro can communicate with normal cats and hangs out with them often

39. Sometimes Shiemi's skirt is extra fancy around the hem what's up with that? Apparently it's an optional accessory that comes with the skirts help I haven't noticed this and don't know any fashion terms in any language

40. When coloring, Katoh always tries to have an overall theme in mind ("emphasis on blue" etc) so it comes together in the end

41. Yes the twins are genetically related to Shiro because of Goro (she says they're like his nephews but I say GENETICALLY at least they'd be indistinguishable from his children)

42. Strongest mom of all the strong moms around here? Yuri! Did you SEE her give birth??

43. Are you careful about your own health Katoh-sensei? Not particularly! Her mom has had to bring her food at work sometimes! Don't do this at home kids

44. At the dating events Shura goes to, does she drink cocktails in moderation? Yeah, she probably downplays her normal drinking habits at these things. But normally she's down for just about any kind of drink

45. Lucifer just really likes oysters okay

46. How many pages of manga does Katoh draw in a day? If she's being good about self-care: three. Maximum number ever: TEN

47. Mephisto is one of those folks who can eat like a garbage compactor and never gain weight. Possibly because his body resists that sort of change the same way it resists aging etc

48. First food Rin cooked: fish burger type patty. Yukio's favorite things Rin cooks: fish simmered in soy sauce, yellowtail with daikon radish. It's fish all the way down

49: Did Rin ever get more monthly allowance from Mephisto? It doubled! He gets TWO 2000 yen bills now (rip) [T/N: That's uh, that's USD $37.26 a month or 33.10 euro]

50. Why isn't Rin more popular with the girls? He gets nervous talking to them, plus he's too oblivious to notice even if he DID have some fans

51. Why change Suguro's hair? She gets bored with keeping everything the same, and she wanted a visual representation that he was getting serious and going into kind of a training arc

52. Things Katoh pays extra attention to when drawing: trying to capture the feel of whatever she's drawing (like "that looks warm and soft" or "I bet that guy stinks" cough Lightning cough)

53: Does Rin take after Yuri more? (He's got her eyes!) Katoh tried to draw Yuri so she looks like both twins. Personality, too - Yukio has her smarts and Rin has her optimism

54: Do you ever wanna be like Mephisto? Well she'd like to be able to get away with just ANYTHING EVER, but no, let's not be like Mephisto

55. Konekomaru not only carries around a cat toy in case he meets any cats, he MAKES cat toys to carry around based on what he thinks the cats would like

56. How'd you come up with Shima? Go read the fan book!

57. Do the kids have Twitter/Instagram accounts? Rin - probably not. Konekomaru might be on some social media. Paku and Izumo are totally on instagram

58. Is there something Rin makes that you wish you could try? All of it! That's the whole idea! He's good at cooking!

59. Will we ever have a (G-rated) reveal of what ALL of Mamushi and her family's tattoos look like? Maybe! She'll think about it

60. Does Arthur have a repertoire of different hairstyles? Not really, he just puts some of it up on the top. Heck he might even have people to do that for him

61. If you wrote a shojo manga what would it be about? She'd have to do a lot of research before even coming up with a story, since there are so many style differences between the genres aside from just the subject

62. The other two of Mephisto's top 3 favorite foods: Cup ramen and....f-fried bubblegum?? Is that a THING???

63. Where do you start when drawing a character? Usually the outline of their face but if it's a complex pose/composition she'll start with whatever's in the foreground (like hands)

64. If Katoh could have a familiar, what demon would she choose? Mephisto. As the all-powerful author, she might actually be able to command him as a familiar!

66. If you swapped Yukio and Rin's relationship around what would change? not much, you'd pretty much have Rin going to the Illuminati and Yukio going to the past

67. Top 3 foods/souvenirs to try in Kyushu? Well she doesn't know what’s good CURRENTLY but when she was there she always used to like burdock tempura udon, hakata torimon (a kind of manju with white bean paste inside), and Chikae style cod roe. today I learned Katoh went to high school in Kyushu

68. Katoh listens to music a lot while she's storyboarding, then when she and the assistants are all drawing and inking they put various videos/movies and stuff on in the background

69. For all his hitting on girls, is Shima actually popular with the ladies at all? He's got enough girls in his life that he probably COULD find a girlfriend if he really wanted, but the double agent thing tends to get in the way. He still wouldn't be as popular as Yukio though (side thought/translator’s note: Shima would be proud of being number 69.)

70. Katoh has the ending planned out in a big-picture way, but there are still a few details here and there that she's fretting over

71. It's cute when the boys put their ties over their shoulders when they're working on something! Where'd that come from? She just figured a tie might get in the way and that seemed like a realistic way to get it out of the way

72. Looks like Yukio is getting some facial hair! What about Rin? They're both about the age for it, but maybe Rin can't grow a beard yet. Maybe a little peach fuzz here and there

73. Katoh's favorite blue exorcist merch? There were some exorcist licenses a while back, and the exorcist pins. Basically it's really cool that these little accessories she drew ACTUALLY EXIST NOW, LIKE YOU CAN HOLD THEM IN YOUR HANDS

74. Okay realtalk how long do we have left, I don't want the series to end yet? We're solidly in the second half by now but it's not, like, ABOUT to end yet

75. Katoh would be a Knight meister, based on what characters she likes to play in games and such

76. How many people in the whole exorcism cram school? More than you think! She doesn't give a number but apparently licensed exorcists also attend classes for new meisters, etc, so there's a wide age range attending

77. How's Arthur feel about, like, studying Taming on the way to becoming Paladin? He's at least mostly accepted that you have to use demons to fight demons effectively

78. Konekomaru started wearing glasses in his first year of middle school, so like 7th grade (more recent than I thought!) He has one spare pair, in contrast to Yukio lol

79. Katoh's current obsessions? Ghost/scary stories! She's even been going to live readings of them recently

80. Media Katoh consumes for inspiration? A wide range of foreign teen drama, horror/suspense, shojo manga, light novels, anime, etc. Special focus on things where two boys are in conflict or there are brothers involved

81. If they weren't exorcists what jobs would they have? Rin - chef. Yukio - doctor. Shiemi - uh, florist?

82. Inspiration for the design of True Cross Town? Katoh and her assistants gathered up a bunch of references, picked out stuff they felt matched the tone, and mashed them all up together

83. Did you use any references etc for the school/exorcist uniforms? She says she probably should have but she just kind of made them up before publication

84. Favorite part of drawing? For color pages, picking out a color scheme. For black and white, drawing in all the little details (though she doesn't always get time to lately)

85. Once again confirms the demon kings' weird hair is a representation of their horns. ADDS THAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T SEE DEMONS CAN'T SEE THE WEIRD HAIR

86. Now that Yukio's at the Illuminati, where's he gonna get his Jump SQ and spare glasses? Well he probably never planned to stay for long, but hey it's a big ship and they might have an optometrist and/or newsstand there

87. Do you base the demon characters on any references etc? Not really, she just gets a general idea of popular demon designs and then makes up her own in her own style

88. Merchandise Katoh personally wants to have made: stuff that an adult could just use in their day to day life. Also, it's not gonna happen, but if her favorite figure brand made AoEx figures she could die happy

89. If Beelzebub's host body was a beautiful woman, how would Shima react? Would the womanizing win out over the bug phobia? Katoh replies that Shima would probably just faint from being near a girl that pretty, before the bugs even got involved

90. Will the twins ever get to smile and eat dinner together again?? We'll just have to wait and see!

91. What do you check at a "scenario check"? what's a scenario check man I dunno They check for people being out of character or the setting feeling off. They had a lot of these checks for the anime, but they also do them for the drama CD, games, and all that other stuff where multiple authors are involved

92. Why does Shura use baldy as an insult for people who are clearly not bald? She feels like they have some kind of metaphorical, mental kind of "baldness" and she's calling them out on it. Whatever that means

93. After Blue Exorcist ends, what do you want to draw next? She has SO MANY IDEAS, SO MANY

94. Did Katoh make up the Shinto chants that, for example, Izumo used against Gedouin? They're assembled from bits of actual Shinto prayers according to what feels right in the scene

95. Yukio reads the Jump SQ, right, and, just hear me out here, he likes gag manga, right? Does this mean he reads Salaryman Yukio? It's something he would read, but let's say that in the AoEx universe there's just a very similar manga that he finds oddly relatable

96. What do Yukio and Shima do in their free time on the Dominus Liminus? oh my god you guys this ship has so many amenities. Yukio probably spends time reading in the library, which they totally have. There's also, like, a gym, and a movie theater, and a THEATER theater, all of which are free. Shima probably hangs out at the pool (!) and goes to the movies, and hits on illuminati girls, lol

97. Easiest character to draw? The ones with boring simple hair, lol. Lightning gets an honorable mention for ALSO not having eyes in most shots, but Rin wins--he was specifically designed to be easy for Katoh to draw because that's what you want in your main character

98. How do demons understand gender? They just possess whatever feels like the best match to how they feel in Gehenna, whether that's a man, or a woman, or a rat, or whatever

99. Where do you start when you're coming up with a story? She starts with character design and how the characters relate to each other. Currently she's just continuing an existing story, so she works on splitting up the overall plot into episodes and fleshing it out with scenes and information about characters

100. When do you feel most happy? She honestly feels like she lives a very happy life overall. Mentions noticing a lot of little things, like how nice her cats' heads smell when she cuddles them or taking a nice cold refreshing drink of water. There's happiness in everything. aww.

#blue exorcist #interview #Ao no Exorcist #translation

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Companion of Tomorrow {Kun x Reader}

Light poured into the window of the parted curtains, casting a warm ray of light on your back, bringing a gentle heat throughout your body. A hum found its way from your lips as you were sleepily guided from the comfort of your dreams. Your eyes slid open slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep as your body awakened itself to new sensations. The smell of morning wafting through the cracked window. The sun, warm on your back. The arm draped delicately over your waist. The soft rise and fall of a chest right beside you.

Your eyes trailed over him. He was on his side, one arm draped across your waist, the other curled up beneath his wrinkled pillow. His hair was tousled and messy but fell delicately across his forehead. His eyes were closed but fluttering with dreams. His lips were slightly parted as he exhaled, sending a less than pleasant wave of morning breath over you. You wrinkled your nose but didn’t move. His arms and chest were bare, the same way he always slept when the weather was warm. The white bedsheets gathered around his waist, hiding the red and black plaid pants he’d worn to bed. The blue duvet settled on his hips, hiding the imprint of his legs behind its bulk.

A smile found its way to your lips as your eyes moved back to the beautiful face. Three years and you still couldn’t get used to seeing his face every morning.

“Your staring.”

Your body jolted, sending a ripple across the mattress at the sudden movement. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, calming itself down from the sudden rush of adrenaline spiked by the fear.

A chuckle found its way to your ears as his brown eyes fluttered open, meeting yours.

“Don’t do that!” You hissed, shoving him lightly.

He laughed and little louder and gathered you closer, bringing you in until your body was pressed to his, his arm around your waist tightening to hold you there. You let out a playful groan and wound your arms around his middle, snuggling into his chest.

“You’re a jerk,” your voice mumbled.

His body shook against yours as he laughed. You patted his back lightly but didn’t say anything more as you settled against him, eyes closing.

“Good morning beautiful,” his soft voice whispered in your ear after a moment of silence.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps climbing your arms.

“Good morning my dove,” you whispered back.

You paused after speaking, waiting to hear the mocking retorts of his two roommates, only to be met with silence.

Your eyes opened and you lifted your head, eyes drifting to the bunk bed along the other wall, the bed YangYang and Dejun usually occupied.

“They got up earlier this morning. I heard them sneak out. They probably went to disturb Kunhang and Ten,” he sighed.

You let out a grunt of acknowledgment and rested your head back against Kun. It wasn’t very often the two of you had alone time, especially in the mornings, unless you stayed the night at your apartment, which only happens about once a month when Kun could convince Doyoung or Taeyong to stay over to make sure the others didn’t burn down the dorm.

“Do you have to practice today?” you asked, mumbling against his shoulder before pressing a kiss against his skin.

He shuddered lightly.

“No, we have the day off,” he answered.

You could honestly say that you were shocked. You often spend your weekends at the WayV dorm, taking care of Bella, Louis, and Leon while the others were at various schedules. You usually would see Kun as he was climbing out of bed to get the others up or when he was coming back to the dorm after a long day of schedules, where he and the others would sit down to chatter over whatever meal you had prepared that night. It was rare he had free days on Saturdays, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

You pushed yourself closer to him and slid your bare legs between his.

“What are you doing?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I want to crawl inside your skin.”

The comment had clearly surprised you both. You hadn’t intended to say your thoughts out loud. You looked up to meet Kun’s face, opening your mouth to apologize when he let out a guffaw of laughter. You felt your cheeks beginning to turn pink.

“You want to share my skin?” he asked, teasing.

Shyly, you nodded and slid yourself closer. He responded by wrapping both arms around you, tugging you against him until your chest was pressed tightly against his.

“I love you,” he whispered softly in your ear.

Your cheeks flushed again. Sure, you’d heard him say it a thousand times now, but you just could never get over how good it felt to hear those words. Your heart swelled with love and joy.

“I love you too.”

One hand came up to cup your face softly, drawing you in until his lips touched yours softly. You pressed closer, begging for more contact as his lips moved perfectly with yours.

Your heart hammered in your chest as your eyes closed and you tucked yourself back under his chin, your eyes fluttering closed, a smile ghosting on your lips.

Being with Kun was like a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream you never wanted to wake up from. And thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Meeting Kun had felt like a dream but after three years and four months, you had no doubt that, even if it was a dream, you’d cling onto it and never let go.

A fond smile grew across your lips as you nestled closer, your mind drifting off to that magical day.

You had always dreamed of traveling and working in South Korea, at least for a year or two. Being immersed in a culture that was so different from your own was something you desperately desired. So, when the opportunity arose to travel abroad to teach the English language at a South Korean entertainment company, you had jumped at the offer.

The company had set you up with a really nice, fully furnished apartment close enough to the company that you could walk it. You’d sent most of your things, clothes, shoes, books, etcetera, a week ahead of your arrival. You had flown out on a Friday in August and, by the time you’d touched down in Korea, it was late afternoon on Saturday.

An English speaking driver had been sent to collect you from the airport. He had been a nice man. He loaded you into his company car and drove from the airport to your new apartment, which wasn’t too far away. Your eyes had been glued to the window the whole time and, although he answered any questions you had about the city, it wasn’t really a tour.

By the time you’d gotten to your apartment, he helped you inside and you were sprawled across your bed, fast asleep.

Ironically, you had found yourself asleep for most of the day on Sunday, waking up in the wee hours of the morning for food before putting yourself back to bed and waking up again early Monday morning. You wouldn’t start at work until Wednesday, so you took the time to begin going through your things, putting them away.

As you had finished, your stomach growled in hunger, but the only thing that had been left in your apartment was crackers, cookies, and water, which would not be sufficient enough to satiate your hunger. You grabbed your phone, stuffing a few dollars in your pocket, hoping you could find somewhere to convert them. You walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind you.

As you stepped outside the apartment complex, you were immediately swept away by the sights you’d never seen before. The big city of Seoul. Sure, it was similar to what you’d imagined New York would have been like, but it was different. People walking the streets, bustling to their jobs; cars and buses occupying the streets; the scent of restaurants wafting to your nose making you rethink going to the supermarket as opposed to a restaurant.

You didn’t realize you were just standing outside your apartment complex, in the middle of foot traffic until you felt something- someone, slam into your back, knocking you to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” rapidfire Korean met your ears.

It took you a minute to make out what the stranger was saying. You were still learning the language and you were, by all accounts, horrible at the language.

“I… uh…” you stammered.

Standing above you was a gorgeous man whom you, of course, being a mega NCT and WayV fan, automatically recognized despite his facemask as Qian Kun. Your eyes trailed over what you could see of his face, but it was his eyes that gave him away.

“Can I... help... you up?” this time, his words were in choppy, but semi-perfect English, which, to say the least, surprised you.

He offered a hand down to lift you up and, after staring at it for a moment, you immediately grasped his hand and allowed him to haul you back onto your feet.

“I’m Kun,” he introduced.

He stilled hadn’t let go of your hand.

“(y-y/n)” you responded, an embarrassed blushed creeping to your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I was just standing in the middle of the streets. I just moved here and this is my first real look at the city…” you mumbled.

His eyes lit up.

“Well! I have time! I have the day off! I was just heading to get some lunch. How about I take you to my favorite restaurant and then give you a tour?” he beamed.

It took you a moment to agree, shock spread across your face. This person whom you’d never physically met before, who didn’t know you from Adam, was suddenly asking you to lunch and a visit around town?

You didn’t know what to say but ‘yes’ and thus started your friendship that would eventually lead to something so much more.

“What are you thinking about?” a voice pulled you from your reverie.

“When we first met,” I responded.

He hummed in response and pressed a kiss to your head.

“That beautiful girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk distracting me from paying attention.”

With a small laugh, you slapped his shoulder lightly.

“Hey! The city was too gorgeous not to look at,” you retorted playfully.

He didn’t respond, just pulled you closer, squeezing your soft skin to his before pressing another soft kiss on your lips.

The day Kun asked you out, you nearly had to pinch yourself, which, turned out, you didn’t have to because, as you were staring at Kun, attempting to judge whether he was joking or not, Ten had pinched you hard in the back of the neck, kickstarting your brain.

Blubbering and blushing, you managed to choke out the word “yes” in agreement to letting him take you to the carnival in the nearby town.

That date had been so perfect that, standing at the door of your apartment, Kun had kissed your cheek and asked to be exclusive, which, you didn’t need a moment to ponder as you wound your arms around your neck and teasingly whispered the words “my boyfriend” in his ear, making him blush and squirm. He’d still ended up in your apartment that night, lounging beside you on the couch eating a large bowl of ice cream as an old Marvel movie played on the television.

After your first date, not much time could be spent between the two. Sure, you were already the babysitter for their pets, spending much of your time after work walking Bella or keeping the cats from destroying all the furniture, but you didn’t get to see Kun very often. You’d whip up something simply they could heat when they returned home, but, not wanting to overstay your welcome, you’d always return back to your own apartment thirty minutes before they’d gotten home, with the exception of one day.

You had lost track of time as you lounged on the couch in a pair of leggings and comfy top the boys had let you keep in your personal drawer. Your laptop rested on your lap as you scrolled through the homework assignments from your students as Bella curled up beside you and Leon wrapped himself around your neck. You weren’t paying attention to the time until keys jiggled in the door and Bella was flying off your lap, barking with her tail swinging rapidly, waiting for one of the boys she loved so much to step through the doors.

You closed your laptop hurriedly and glanced toward the kitchen, vacant after you’d forgotten to cook anything. You’d jumped off the couch to hurry out the door when Kun’s voice stopped you.

“Why do you always leave before we get here? Do you not want to see me?” he asked, voice sounding hurt and dejected.

You immediately turned, face dropping in shock.

“No! I just didn’t want to be one of those clingy girls that’s always lurking in every corner!” you defended.

His face softened.

“I don’t mind the clingy. It lets me know that I’m wanted,” he spoke.

Bella bounced at his feet, begging for attention as Louis wound himself between his legs. Kun knelt to pick Bella up, petting her head softly.

“I do want to be around you. All the time, actually. I just thought you’d want some space.”

He crossed the foyer slowly, careful not to step on Louis or Leon. When he reached you, he placed Bella gently on the couch and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I love how considerate you are, but it’s seeing your beautiful face that gives me all the energy in the world,” he whispered.

Your heart melted. Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll never leave early again,” you promised.

A smile ghosted over his lips.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You’d gasped at first. He’d never kissed you before. Not on dates, not when he walked you back up to your apartment, not when you met up to go somewhere together. For a while, you’d questioned whether or not he’d actually wanted to kiss you, but this… this was well worth the wait.

You melted against his lips, leaning into his touch. They were so soft and warm, gliding perfectly across yours, pulling you deeper and deeper into him.

When he pulled away, you were left breathless, the taste and feel of his lips lingering on your own.

“How about tonight, I make dinner and you finish grades. The boys will be home in an hour and we both know chaos will ensue after that.”

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek before letting him go into the kitchen as you sat back down on the couch and re-opened your laptop.

A pair of warm lips pressed against your own, drawing you out of your memories as you kissed back, gliding your lips along his.

The kiss was quick, but it was enough to stir up the butterflies that never seemed to stop fluttering when you were around Kun.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered when he’d pulled away.

You smiled and ran a hand up through his hair.

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered back.

Pink dusted his cheeks.

After your conversations about your leaving early and your first kiss, you never left early again and, most nights you found yourself tucked in Kun’s embrace as YangYang and Dejun argued over whose feet stank the most.

To be fair, it was Kun’s feet they were smelling, but you’d never tell them that.

“I love mornings like these,” he whispered.

You nodded. Most mornings, you either were forced to sleep in your own beds in your own houses, Kun not wanting to disturb you as he got up at odd hours of the morning before you. You, not wanting to wake him up if you had to leave first. It had just been easier, but it wasn’t an arrangement either of you were particularly fond of.

Something soft hit the outside of the door, slightly starting you both until the distinguished sounds of two cats pouncing on the door at the same time met your ears. You rolled your eyes. YangYang or Yukhei were likely teasing the cats.

That was an everyday thing too, except, most of the time, it ended with someone opening the door and an excited Bella jumping in bed with you both as two cats scurried around the door chasing a toy.

“Do you remember when you first met them?” Kun asked.

You let out a laugh. That was one interesting day.

Meeting the rest of WayV had been a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. Kun always met you outside of the dorm and the company, always keeping two parts of his lives separate, something you didn’t mind too much as you and Kun were really in the beginnings of your friendship. (You didn’t find out until later that he’d been hiding you away so the insanity of six crazy boys didn’t scare you off).

The day you’d met them had been a complete accident. Kun had asked you out for coffee, something that had become quite normal, normal enough that the ladies at the counter knew exactly what you wanted before you made your way to the counter. As you’d gotten your drinks and sat down at your usual booth, both sitting on the same side, you pulled your laptop from your bag and plugged your earbuds into the port. You fired up the Netflix show the two of you had been watching and started the next episode.

Not ten minutes in, the door to the coffee shop swung open, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was Ten’s voice that caught you both off guard.

“Yukhei! This is a public establishment! You can’t just go around flinging doors open so hard they smack the wall!” he scolded.

Kun’s head immediately shot up, startling you into following his gaze.

Standing at the entrance to the coffee shop were six boys, all of varying heights. They were standing around in a sort of semi-circle before moving to the counter to order.

“Oh God,” Kun mumbled.

You didn’t have to question him. As Yukhei, very loudly, placed his order (a large vanilla coffee with extra sugar), Kun slid down in his seat, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Of all the ways you could meet my members, this is probably the worst,” he complained.

You let out a little giggle which, you had hoped was quiet enough, but, as YangYang scanned the shop looking for the source, his eyes landed on you.

At first, he did nothing but offer you an eye smile over his face mask, sending you a little wave in which you awkwardly returned. But as Kun glanced up briefly, the maknae’s eyes zeroed in on his face.

“Kun-ge?” he asked.

This caught the others attention and, before long, your booth was surrounded.

“So this is where you run off to!” Kunhang stated dramatically.

Kun sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I-” he started but was abruptly cut off as Dejun’s eyes fixed heavily on you.

“Is this your girlfriend?”

Kun’s cheeks were red again.

“What?! No! She’s just a really good friend!” he defended.

That had hurt a bit but you didn’t say anything, just awkwardly sat there with a half smile struggling on your lips.

“Where did you meet?” Ten interrogated.

“I bumped into him and he offered to give me a tour of the city,” you answered quietly.

Your cheeks were warming now too as all eyes directed onto you, your hands getting clammy at the attention.

“What’s your name?” Sicheng asked, sliding into the booth across from you and offering you a peaceful smile.

“(y/n)” you responded.

“Such a pretty name!” Ten cooed.

Your cheeks reddened.

“Do you like our Kun-ge?” Yukhei’s voice boomed.

You flinched at the loudness, but your cheeks grew redder still.

“I-I…”

“Yukhei! You don’t ask questions like that! You’re all making her uncomfortable! That’s why I was putting off introducing you all!” Kun scolded.

No one said anything for a few minutes before Ten slid into the booth beside Sicheng.

“Are you dating Kun?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Kun and I are honestly just friends. I just moved here not too long ago and he was nice to me. So he’s kinda the only friend I have here,” you said quietly.

YangYang squeezed himself into the booth beside you, sandwiching you between him and Kun.

“Do you like cats?” he asked.

A weird question, but you nodded. You absolutely adored all animals.

“And dogs?” Yukhei bellowed.

After flinching at the sound of his voice, you nodded.

YangYang gripped your wrist.

“Let’s take her back to the door so she can meet Louis, Leon, and Bella!”

With that, you were pulled from your seat and excitedly marched out of the coffee shop, Yukhei and Kunhang excitedly bouncing behind you as YangYang led you down the street. As you passed the coffee shop, Kun was shaking his head and packing your laptop back into your computer bag, preparing to follow the excitable children.

“And when I finally walked in, you were playing with Leon as YangYang and Kunhang spitfired question after question! And you never missed a beat!” Kun laughed.

You reciprocated his laugh, curling into him.

Meeting the guys had most certainly been an adventure, but it was an adventure that led you to laying in Kun’s bed now, snuggled up to his side.

“I wouldn’t trade you or them for anything in the world. Even if you are all crazy,” you laughed.

“I think they may love you about as much as I do,” Kun laughed.

“YangYang even called me “mom” the other day when he called me at work to ask how to get a poop stain out of the carpet,” you giggled.

Kun laughed alongside you before pausing.

“Wait- what poop stain?”

You laughed and pat his chest.

“Don’t worry about it baby,” you cooed.

You nuzzled into his chest and, for a moment, he seemed to ponder whether to push you away to ask more questions or just drop it. As he wrapped his arms tighter around you, kissing your head, you smiled and laid your head on his chest.

As his heartbeat sounded in your ear and the room fell silent, you could feel your eyes beginning to close, body sinking deeper into his hold as comfort washed over you.

“My sweet love,” he whispered.

You smiled and burrowed closer. Your consciousness wavering, body going limp in his hold as sleep tugged at your eyelids. You felt Kun settle beneath you. He wasn’t far from falling back to sleep when…

BOOM!

The sound was so loud it rattled the windows and doors. Your eyes flew open and you lurched forward, blindly grabbing for your housecoat to cover your pajamas before running for the door, Kun hot on your trail.

Your heart was racing. That boom had sounded too much like an explosion. Fear spiked through your veins. What if someone had gotten hurt?!

“Yukhei!” Dejun’s voice was shrill from the kitchen.

Your feet raced, pounding on the floor as you swung yourself into the kitchen and immediately stopped, taking in the sight before you.

The microwave was swung open, dark smoke rolling out in waves, rising toward the ceiling. Your eyes caught the flicker of a small flame from whatever had been in the microwave. Your eyes scanned the room as Kun moved into the pantry to grab the fire extinguisher.

Yukhei was on the ground, large, silent tears sliding down his face, one large hand clutching his right eye. Your heart pounded in worry.

Kun pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and aimed the hose at the microwave, firing the foam at the microwave. You knelt by Yukhei and gingerly guided his hand away from his eye, examining any damage.

He had a large, red welt directly under his eye, right along the bone. It oozed a little blood, but what worried you the most was Yukhei’s inability to keep his eye open. It blinked and flinched, but never opened more than halfway.

“Come on sweetheart, let me check your eye,” you spoke softly.

You placed your hand on the back of his shoulder and slowly guided him off the floor. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks and he stumbled slightly, but allowed you to guide him to the nearest bathroom down the hall.

As you led him inside, you instructed him to sit down on the toilet lid, which he quickly complied, hand still covering his eye.

You grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool tap water and ringing it out before guiding his hand from his face and pressing the cool cloth against his eye. He squirmed for a moment before relaxing and leaning into the cloth.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

His bottom lip trembled and a small sob fell from his lips. You leaned patiently against the edge of the sink, keeping the cloth pressed to his eye.

“W-we were trying to heat up breakfast so we didn’t wake you b-but… something went wrong and when I tried to open the microwave door, it flew open and smacked me in the eye!”

He stammered and stumbled over his words, but as he finished speaking, you had a better understanding.

“I need to have a look at your eye, alright,” you spoke tenderly.

He let out a whimper but nodded and you moved the cloth away.

“Can you tell me how it hurts?” you asked as his eye flinched and twitched.

“It hurts all over but it also feels like there's something in my eye,” he whimpered.

Softly, you slid your fingers along his jaw and encouraged him to tip his head back. Once at an angle where you could see, you gently placed two fingers along the bone beneath his eye, careful of the wound. Your thumb rested just below his brow. Slowly and carefully, you caught his eyelashes with your thumb and coaxed his eye to open. He flinched a little and fought against the movement, but as you opened his eye fully, you found the problem.

The whites of his eye was red with irritation, and, settled right near his iris, was a long eyelash probably knocked into his eye as he was rubbing it after the door hit him.

“You have an eyelash. Be very still so I can get it out,” you spoke tenderly.

He didn't move as you used your hand resting below his eye to gently dab your finger over the eyelash and extract it. When it was out, you let his eye close and, without the irritant, it no longer flinched and twitched.

You allowed him to tilt his head back down and, with the eyelash resting on your finger, you brought it up for him to see.

“Make a wish.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment before blowing the eyelash off your finger.

After the extraction of the eyelash, you cleaned the small wound under his eye and placed a Spiderman bandage on the wound.

“Now, let’s go get you some ice before you get a black eye.”

He stood up from the toilet seat and placed his head in yours. You laughed lightly and led him into the kitchen, him trailing behind you like an overgrown toddler.

As you entered the kitchen, you found YangYang, Dejun, and Kunhang all lined up by the table, Kun standing in front of them running his hands through his hair, a habit he only did when he was highly stressed or annoyed.

You pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and handed it to Yukhei, who scampered off to sit at the table with the ice on his eye.

“So I know the microwave door hit Yukhei in the eye, but why exactly did it fly open? What was the bang? What was on fire?”

Kun let out a sigh and shook his head. No one else said a word, the boy’s attention on anything but you.

You put your hands on your hips. You keep be gentle and loving when it was required, but, while Kun was usually soft and gentle, you had an attitude and you had high morals and expectations.

“I’ll ask again. Exactly what happened?” you asked sternly, soft eyes turning hard as you stared down the four.

No one said anything for a moment before Dejun opened his mouth to speak.

“We were hungry but we didn’t want to wake you guys up…” he mumbled.

“So we thought we’d make something ourselves but Kun doesn’t allow us to use the stove after we almost burnt down the kitchen that one time,” YangYang continued.

“We found the bacon and sausage from yesterday… so we decided to heat that up,” Kunhang added.

You closed your eyes. You’d put the sausage and bacon in aluminum foil to keep it from dying out and getting soggy. Please please let them not have put metal in the microwave.

“We didn’t know the foil in the microwave would catch fire until it blew the microwave door open…” Yukhei finished.

Aluminum foil in the microwave… They’d put METAL in the microwave.

You let out a drawn out sigh and rested your head in your hands, massaging your temples.

“You can’t put metal in the microwave,” you muttered.

“We know that! … Now…” YangYang spoke.

You heaved a heavy sigh.

“Was anyone besides Yukhei close to the microwave when it blew open?” you asked.

They thought about it for a moment before all four shook their heads.

Kun looked at you questioningly for a moment before realization dawned across his face.

“You stay here, I’ll take him to the Emergency Room,” Kun said, walking out of the kitchen to retrieve a shirt from the bedroom.

“Emergency Room?!” YangYang shouted.

“He could have been exposed to radiation from the microwave. There’s nothing they can really do if he has, but we need to know for sure,” you stated, rubbing your temples.

Kun returned back still in his pajama pants but now wearing a black hoodie to match. He guided Yukhei out the door while you sent the others to clean up the kitchen.

Stange how quickly a peaceful morning can turn to chaos.

It was noon when Kun’s car pulled into their house and he and Yukhei were stepping out, both carrying large takeout bags. As they made their way inside, they plopped the takeout bags on the counter. Kun came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“Doyoung, Taeyong, and the Dreamies will be over in an hour. I’m taking tomorrow off. We’re taking a little vacation to the hotel we usually stay at to get away,” he whispered in your ear.

Apparently, he wasn’t quiet enough because as YangYang grabbed his takeout box, he made a gagging noise deep in his throat, earning himself a lightly headslap from Kun.

You nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Yulhei?”

“He’s fine. His eye will bruise, but he’ll be fine otherwise.”

You nodded and slide yourself closer into his side, kissing his jaw.

A few hours later, while you all were playing fetch with Bella, Doyoung, Taeyong, and the Dreamies let themselves in. Upon seeing them, you and Kun grabbed your own respective duffel bags and headed for the car before anyone could stop you. One catastrophe was enough to make you need a break.

As you settled into his car and he started the engine, he didn’t move for a long moment. You looked at him questioningly.

“You were so gentle taking care of Yukhei but then so firm when you needed answers and disciplined them…” he muttered.

You nodded, confusion etched across your features. Things like this had happened before. Maybe not to the magnitude, but you’d handled sprained ankles and broken bones together before. It honestly wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

“It just makes me think about actual children,” he mumbled.

By now you were beyond confused. Sure, you’d talked about children before, but only enough to know that you each wanted children, granted, you wanted more than he did.

“And I love you,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I love you too.”

“I had something so much more romantic planned but… I just don’t think I can wait. Not after today,” he said.

“Ok, what are you talking about?”

You had more questions than answers, at least, until he opened the glovebox and pulled out a small velvet black box.

A gasp tumbled from your lips. That box! It was the size of-

He flipped open the lid, pulling you from your thoughts as he presented you with a dazzling diamond, perfectly centered in a triangular receptacle, delicately placed on a band of white gold with tinier diamonds decorating halfway down both sides.

“(y/f/n) (y/m/d) (y/l/n), will you be my wife?”

Don’t leave Kun hanging! What’s your answer?

#kun x reader #kun x y/n #kun x you #wayv yangyang #wayv hendery #wayv xiaojun #wayv lucas #wayv winwin #wayv ten #wayv kun #wayv louis #wayv leon #wayv bella #wayv fluff #wayv hurt #Love wayv #love nct #wayv oneshot

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