#I wonder how short the cohorts are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yaoyaobae · 1 year

Text

Its been awhile and i have another OC to share LOL gotta draw brain rots instead of keeping them in your head forever ☺️💖

Name: Aurore Dormir

School: Royal Sword Academy

Pastime: Escaping school to wander in the nearby forest, spending time alone

Hobbies: Sightseeing, Gardening, Fencing.

Family: Father, Mother , *Brother ( silver, please refer to the last note regarding my own theory)

Aurore is a third year student at RSA, currently house warden of the sleeping beauty inspired dorm.

Aurore is also the next king of the Kingdom of Heroes, which naturally made him the center of attention in RSA.

Unlike Malleus whose powerful aura pushes people away from him, Aurore draws people towards him as they feel a sense of security around him.

He was only recently enrolled into school during his second year as his family brought him back from isolation for training, far away from the world’s eyes.

At first glance, Aurore may seem like the ideal dream prince: Kind, Polite, Courageous, Strong and Smart as he is consistent in securing top grades across his cohort. But deep down, he isn’t exactly the perfect prince most of his peers think he is.

Aurore is actually afraid of strangers and overwhelming attention ( he was raised in isolation so meeting humans are.. yeah) He is skilled at hiding his weakness but starts blanking out if there are too many people crowding around him.

As a result, he finds happiness in spending time alone in places where no one recognises him. He usually takes a short stroll around Sage Island’s various forests when his caretakers aren’t looking.

Strangely, Aurore mentions that his enjoyment from lonely strolls only existed because he would suddenly find himself in unknown places as a child…as if something or someone was calling him. But he became mentally stronger as he got older and knows how to guard himself during his impromptu walks.

Bonus personal theory/lore:

Hi! So if you have been following me since i started creating twst ocs, you would be familiar with a certain comic i drew for an Aurora Oc ( its not exactly Aurore because i didn’t flesh him out) . But to sum up my theory for that comic:

There was once a powerful kingdom that clashed with briar valley, humans and fae did not get along as well back then.

Somewhere in between the war, both of the queen’s sons were cursed by a powerful magician and separated at birth. The queen initially wanted to send her two sons far away from the castle, but only managed to send one tucked away in a casket that drifted on a hidden river which led to a forest.

The war ended a few days later, with both fae and humans forming a truce. The queen fell into depression after realising that her second son probably did not make it and blamed herself for not keeping him a little longer had she known he would have been safe and alive in her arms.

Time heals wounds, and with some reassurance from the King the Queen got back up on her feet stronger for the sake of her people. Of course, sometimes the servants would catch a glimpse of the lonely Queen staring into the far forests wondering if she will ever see those small pair of Aurora coloured eyes again.

Because the Queen conceived her two sons alone away from the servants, only she and the King were aware of their other missing son. The three fairy advisors who had protected them from the very start told the Queen that if word of two cursed princes were to spread, the kingdom would be doomed to fall . The Queen had no choice but to accept this decision, and so they entrusted their only son to the three fairies in case the curse within him acts up. Hence Aurore was raised in isolation away from the world’s attention and only enrolled in his second year to prevent the curse from possibly manifesting.

In this story I created Silver is the missing prince in question who drifted far into the forest and eventually picked up by Lilia. His only proof of his royal status is a ring with an aurora coloured gem (Book 7 mention).

Regarding the curse: Silver was cursed to feel drowsy all the time while Aurore was cursed to follow a voice in his head which leads him to sleepwalk into dangerous places alone. Silver’s hair colour reminds me of the spindle/needle, so in a way he contains the sleeping curse. Like Aurora, Aurore is drawn into strange places by a voice and eventually to the spindle. Hence these two will always feel an unfamiliar sense of closeness to each other.

“Yao why do you think Silver would have a brother? Much less the RSA guy inspired by Aurora? Doesn’t Silver already have Aurora’s traits?”

In general this is just my own fun theory to think about, but my reasons are because i think it would be interesting if Silver canonically had living family member(s) from a royal family( that ring kinda tells all). It would also put him in place wondering if he should return to his biological human family or stay with his Briar Valley family as he feels a stronger bond with them. With the way TWST tackles issues about fae/human like Sebek from example, i would love to see Silver’s resolve for his found family.

In my old comic, the Aurora OC actually dislikes Fae because of the war. He especially hates Lilia because he believed the war criminal took his own brother away and is promoting peace despite his past.

I feel Aurore would dislike Lilia but eventually learns to see the war from both sides as humans aren’t all that great either, he is still a naive prince with much to learn about the world. So while Silver does have Aurora’s trait, Aurore may have some of King Stefan’s from Maleficent/OG film. TWST tends to combine diff character traits anyways🌝👍

Anyways I adore these two so much and am looking forward to Silver’s past in the future updates! Thank you for reading about Aurore, till next time 💖

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #yaoyao_twstoc #auroredormir #twst silver

3K notes · View notes

sy-on-boy · 2 months

Text

My 2 cents on the plot / thematic relevance of Ch 95

This is not about advancing Plot B or showing Anya's school life (which is still true but has been discussed), but rather the overall theme of education and war. There was an excellent post about how Eden is at the frontline of the cold war and it is subtly shown through the innocent lens of the first graders (I can't find it now, would link it if I could). And I think that perfectly applies to Ch 95.

Quick recap on some references about education/students/war throughout the series (that I remember at the moment):

Sylvia gravely condemning the Berlint University Student Terrorists during the Doggy Crisis arc (Ch 20) and saying "did you learn nothing about war at your university?"

Henderson talking about his experience as a history teacher (Ch 27.5, Short Mission 4) and quote: "Yes, well, I have always maintained that there is nothing to be learned from the memorization of time lines. From the grand efforts with which our forefathers crafted society to the foolish notions that sent them racing to war, to not study the human element at history's root is to not understand history at all"

Note that Damian's best subject has been established to be history, and his family (father) has been involved in war, at least Donovan was PM during most of the war (established by Melinda in Ch 91). Donovan is also a graduated Imperial Scholar (Ch 64).

The Red Circus group started out as a peaceful student demonstration "advocating for peace and quality" (Ch 72) and "speaking out to protect the weakest members of our society". And Billy Squire said, "We were a respectable movement that fought for our cause with respectable means. It was the state that turned violent against us. So I'm not taking criticism from a member of the establishment (referring to Henderson, an educator). I'm gonna see to it that they reap what they've sown." Billy's daughter Biddy was killed by the state at a protest.

Less of a point, but Becky is the daughter of the CEO of a major military manufacturer. Despite their very likely involvement in military conflicts because they sell arms, the Blackbell cohort has been depicted positively so far: Becky being a kind, wonderful friend to Anya, Becky's father doting on her, and Martha again being kind and dignified (and also being an ex-soldier and acquainted with Henderson).

Eden Academy is a major setting for SxF and the themes of politics, education, and war are embedded in it. The students involved in protests/groups are older (the university students, Billy's daughter), but the political implications remain even among the youngest of the students— the first graders.

Hence, Ch 95. When mere first graders are shown to fight to gain connections, which can be political as pointed out by Henderson: "In the world of politics, dances serve as major social events". But of course, they are kids, so they see it more playfully and innocently, especially Becky with her shipper lens on.

Of course, there is also the aspect of getting to know other people better out of interest (the boys asking Anya and Becky to dance because they were impressed after the bus hijacking). But as people have mentioned, nobody mentions this to Damian despite him being equally involved in saving the class (all three of them got a star). The girls aren't interested in Damian as a person, they're interested in him as an asset because of his family and their power.

And I can see the teachers trying to diffuse the tension and create camaraderie with their friendly competition. To me, this reads as the teachers fully realizing "the battlefield of political maneuvering", and they want to remind the kids to have fun, to show good sportsmanship, to unite the kids, to operate as a class and be friendly with one another, and overall make it more lighthearted. It's nice to see the classes work together and get excited / win as a unit, especially compared to the more "individual" bits of fighting for a dance partner later.

We get a bit of comparison between Bill and Damian, with Bill showing good sportsmanship while Damian scoffs at him. But Damian ends up becoming ultra competitive and telling his classmates to not screw it up.

Like the Dodgeball chapter, Damian is clumsily attempting to lead the class by doing good in his quiz, while getting stressed and yelling at his peers when they don't succeed like he did. So he's not really a good leader. Like how him being good at history does not necessarily mean he is good at being peaceful (Short Mission 4 ends with Henderson staring in exasperation at Damian + Anya bickering with each other). But obviously, he is merely a child, and he is naturally immature.

At first Loid is all for advancing Plan B and analysed Anya's suitors in a rational (reductionist?) way by ranking them in terms of gaining intelligence, but he remembers this is just a dance, Anya is a kid, and she should do whatever she wants. Loid (and the adults) are very aware of the political side of the gala, but ultimately they want the kids to have fun and not worry / worry less about politics.

Because they're kids! They'll grow up and learn more and be politically active later, but right now, they're just kids. Kids who don't know much about the world but are eager to make the world a better place.

In the end, we get a panel of Anya and Loid "teaming up" to win Damian's hand for Plan B / world peace. The Damian-Anya dynamic is cushioned with the silly crushy feelings, but underneath it, Operation Strix continues to be a core motivation.

I find it interesting that Endo chooses to focus on the first graders and their innocent view of the world / politics. It's embedded everywhere and especially in a prominent school like Eden, but the kids don't really realise it / realise the severity of it. Heirs and heiresses are educated at Eden and grow up to have incredible influence and the power to shape the world. Our protagonist's best friend comes from a family that manufactures arms. Henderson mentions the importance of learning history to avoid making the same mistakes (ie. war).

So Ch 95 is a cute prom chapter. But I think it also helps to show the themes underneath the fun, bubbly interactions.

#spy x family spoilers #spy x family #spy x family manga #sxf analysis #meta #idk #what do i tag #long post

208 notes · View notes

dduane · 1 year

Text

An anonymized non-anon query

(A note: my ask box isn’t open to anons at the moment, because I started getting inappropriate messages that I didn’t care to see. Maybe I'll eventually go anon-open again. But the present situation isn’t going to stop me from answering asks where the person’s uneasy about having their username revealed. Like this one:)

[text:

Can't go on anon so this is a little mortifying to be Seen™ but;

Do you have any words for fandom girls who are no longer in their 20s and starting to construct people in their heads who shame them for "still being into this stuff"?]

First thing; funny how it's always fandom girls who come up against this, isn't it? If it was some 90-year-old fandom boy in question who'd been painting his face red and white and following Manchester United since he was nine, no one would turn a hair. In fact, everybody in that cohort of interest would be praising him for his commitment and loyalty. It's almost as if some people have bought into the idea that the rules are different for girls somehow! Something to do with the idea that where girls belong is home making everybody a sandwich. I wonder where that might have come from...

Anyway. What you're describing here is something a lot of us have run into: the pressure to (allow me briefly to stand the well-known trope on its head) Be Like All The Other Girls... and to be prepared (and indeed resigned) for that inevitably to happen IRL. This stuff starts sneaking into your head in a very innocuous way: by disguising itself as "being prepared" for what you're afraid might happen. And it's very hard to avoid having that concern slowly but surely turn into a dread of what's going to happen. (For there's a horrible seductiveness about self-fullfilling prophecy... even if you know you've built it yourself. Part of your mind, that frightened advanced-fight-or-flight part that's always trying to keep you safe by predicting all the possible futures, starts feeling satisfied with itself when it finally has the evidence to say, "Well, at least we were prepared for that!")

So it's best to be proactive about managing this, I think, before things start to get bothersome. Develop a quick switchblade-style defense that you can pull out of your brain's back pocket at short notice. And then, when you're used to using it on those rogue ideations, disarm the sneaky "attacker" more thoroughly by taking it apart, gradually, at the more straightforwardly analytical end.

Let's start with the switchblade: a good-old fashioned mantra. How about this:

"Nobody gets to gatekeep my joy."

This can be used as a silent affirmation any time you feel the need. Any time you start feeling that pressure—that annoying whisper from the conjectural voices in your head that want you to think about how maybe you are too old for this kind of thing—pull out the mantra and shiv them in the gut with it, three times. (Threes are always good for this. Think how many spells have to be done, or names spoken, in threes. The rhythm's an archetype all its own.)

What you'll notice, with repetition of this intervention over time, is that the incidence of this kind of thinking gradually gets rarer and rarer. It might take a while to go away completely... but you'll know what to do if it rears its head again.

But also: this response can when necessary be repeated right out loud in front of whatever sorry piece of breathing meat has the unutterable bald-faced gall to actually try to gatekeep you to your (digital or otherwise) face. Pull it out, set your features in an expression of amused calm (because what you do to your face makes differences in your brain), and hit 'em with it. And if they continue to try to argue the point with you, you get to just keep repeating your base-state mantra until they give up and go away.*

...Now, since good mantras normally run deeper than the mere words, it makes sense to inquire into an underlying issue:

Why do people do this to other people? (And I don't mean this as a rhetorical question with optional eyeroll: I mean it as a possible diagnostic.) There has to be a reason people pull this shit... as mandated by the favorite (different) mantra of psychiatric professionals everywhere: "All behavior is motivated."

One aspect of this to consider: the "you're too old to be into this stuff" response is usually a learned behavior. People for whom the perception of "insufficient" age or maturity is an issue have routinely picked it up from others. There are a number of reasons why they parrot it... the likeliest being that simply want to be seen saying the thing that lots of other people they know also say; so that by so doing, they can be seen as Smart. (This is of course just another a manifestation of our old generally-maladaptive friend, the so-called herd instinct.) And nine-tenths of those other people, I can guarantee you, got it in turn from others still. "They're too old for this" is rarely going to be a spontaneous insight. (Except when used pertinent to certain contact sports, and some types of opera.)

Yet why does the trope perpetuate itself so enthusiastically?

Leaving aside personal living-arrangement issues in individual cases, I think it's because in some people, underneath the expressed trope, there's a genuine fear... an insidious variation of the well-known impostor syndrome. And it's this:

They're afraid that whatever it is they've got at the moment, it's may well be the wrong kind of "this stuff"... not a real joy. (Some people will take this to mean, "The kind of stuff, or joy, other people will approve of." Cf. the "seeming Smart" thing.) And, as they get older, they may be becoming afraid they may never have it.

Now, people naturally try to protect themselves from experiencing their own fears whenever possible. This one's no different. So one way such folks find to distract themselves from the fear of having no joy is to devalue such joy in others. That way, whatever they see themselves as having their noses spitefully "rubbed in" can be perceived as no longer a real threat to them. They can start seeing it as a bad joy, a weak or silly or stupid joy. And (in this case specifically) an immature joy.

(With this in mind, the passage in which C.S. Lewis deals with this toxic fetishization of "maturity" is worth quoting in full, since we so frequently see only the last couple/few lines:)

“Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

...And you hear there the voice of a man who'd dealt with a whole lot of critics in his time on this subject—some of them quite famous and elevated types, trying to discredit him for what we'd now think of as "clicks"—and had routinely made them ever so sorry they'd engaged. Also, Lewis was an enthusiastic reader of "the pulps" until his dying day, and you should have seen some of his responses to those who tried to tell him that "at his age, he should be over that science fiction stuff by now." I'd have to go digging for the cites, but... hooboy.

Anyway, and as a closer:

You're not required to—at someone else's mere behest—even think about changing your way of thinking and living in the (probably hopeless) hopes of pleasing or placating other people you've never met. And most specifically:

You are in no wise required by the Universe to curtail your personal experience of joy in order to try to make scared and small-souled people more comfortable.Your soul gets to be its own size, and have its own joy... in its very own shape, volume, and richness.

So if anyone pulls the "You're too old for [x]" crap on you, I encourage you to just let that attitude sail on by you and fuck straight out into the Oort Cloud and beyond. Let passing alien spacecraft on their way in-system gaze at it in wonder and say, "Wow, look at that go! Didn't think they had warp drive here yet."

...Anyway: let me know how you get on.

HTH!

*This is a basic assertiveness-training technique that I feel is much undervalued in daily usage. Every time someone comes up with a new reason you should stop doing what they don't like, and expects you to respond to that... what makes them think you're required to come up with a new and different reason not to? Who made that concept up? And why waste useful originality on someone arguing with you in the kind of bad faith that refuses to accept your answers? Just keep repeating yourself with the main reason until they give up (probably in great exasperation: too bad...) and bugger off elsewhere. :) ...But see the useful 1970s work When I Say No, I Feel Guilty for effective DIY approaches to this problem.

#advice #the retired psych nurse is IN -- 5¢#or indeed #€0.03

913 notes · View notes

pearl-blue-musings · 1 year

Text

Genshin men as your ex

Feat.: Alhaitham, Kaveh, Kaeya, Tighnari, Thoma, Kazuha

Warnings: angst, no comfort for some, break ups, moving on, I torture my favorites because I care

Buckle up y’all

Alhaitham

📝 It wasn’t easy being in a relationship with him, and even harder when the two of you broke up

📝 The reason you broke up was all on him you think, considering you had asked him to do one thing one thing!

📝 You had asked him to let you know when he’d be going out of the city for work and who in case anything happened to him as a safety precaution

📝 It wasn’t that hard to do, right? Right!

📝 But his most recent trip to the desert for the new grand sage had him away from you for an undetermined amount of time

📝 He didn’t tell you anything, not who he was working with, the fact that someone you knew who had feelings for your lover was also on the trip

📝 You’d been fine with them being around each other but the last time they got too handsy and he wasn’t refuting their advances

📝 And so when the members of the adventure came into your home unannounced and they were all over him you lost it

📝 You yelled at him, to his surprise and a one sided argument ensued

📝 He didn’t understand the problem with him not telling you things since he wasn’t allowed to tell you or that his coworker was close to him

📝 What threw you over the edge was the mission called for them to be a couple and prove it

📝 “We had to kiss, which was easy cause it felt like kissing you”

📝 Your jaw was on the floor, kissing a random person was like kissing you???

📝 And to add insult to injury they added that they had to practice, unsure if they’re lying but you didn’t care

📝 You point to the door, his guests staring at you all in awe as you tell him to leave and never come back

📝 Months later he finds himself staring into crowds or the house of daena looking for you wondering how you are

📝 When he sees you talking casually with kaveh he feels something tick at him

📝 Oh, so this is the jealousy you had felt

📝 He doesn’t like it

📝 And his new roommate???? How fucking dare you

📝 So when he finds you at the dimly lit tavern, a few drinks in and kaveh nowhere in sight, he saunters up to you

📝 He knows you’re overly emotional when you’ve had a bit and immediately decides to take you home

📝 He leaves kaveh and takes you begrudgingly to sober you up

📝 He tells you he still loves you when he sees you crying over someone who broke your heart

📝 You wanna kiss him so badly but know that he won’t change

📝 You say fuck it and throw caution into the wind

📝 You both wake up and debate about getting back together but first some hard conversations need to be had

Kaveh

💼 You never thought the architect would break up with you

💼 He claims it was a scheduling issue

💼 But in reality he was ashamed of where he lived and his occupation

💼 He felt he didn’t live up to your expectations considering you’re being a higher rank than his roommate

💼 Hell you were being considered for one of the new sages!!

💼 How could he compare?? You should be with someone better

💼 So he dumped you to help you, at least that’s what he thought

💼 You however were utterly heartbroken

💼 You loved him so much that it made you feel stupid

💼 He brought you out of your head and made you feel like less of an object for the akademiya

💼 Everyone loved your brain and thoughts

💼 But kaveh loved all of you and now he’s no longer part of your life

💼 A year later you’re still a new sage and taking your job very seriously

💼 Seldom you’ll ask alhaitham about kaveh and he gives you very short answers

💼 One day you do ask and he deadpans at you “he’s miserable without you just date him again”

💼 You’re shocked that he said that as he takes his seat as the meeting starts over

💼 You lose your breath when kaveh walks in with some papers and cohorts, explaining the additional building and potential growth for education in the desert

💼 He looked regal

💼 When his eyes caught yours, he faltered

💼 After his proposal was approved you rushed out

💼 You call out his name and he freezes

💼 You turn to a secluded corner, biting your lip at him fumbling his words

💼 You look up at him, breathless and a goofy smile on your face

💼 “Buttercup we can’t,” his voice barely above a whisper

💼 You cup his face with tears falling down and shake your head

💼 “But why? I love you!”

💼 Kaveh holds your hand and kisses the top of hand shaking his own hand

💼 “And I love you too, but I’m holding you back. I mean, look at you! You’re a sage! You approved my proposal. We’re doing what we wanted.”

Kaeya Alberich

❄️ How long has it been since you left Mondstadt?

❄️ Years it seems

❄️ And yet kaeya still goes to the top of the windmill towers to throw dandelion seeds on the first day of spring

❄️ He sighs heavily after throwing all the seeds and comes down

❄️ Secretly he hopes the seeds fly to you and let you know how much he misses you

❄️ Or how much he still loves you

❄️ You couldn’t handle all of his lies

❄️ Diluc had warned you, hell the whole city warned you

❄️ But you were smitten and so you ignored them

❄️ Being a bartender at Angel’s Share how you two met

❄️ And inevitably where you broke up

❄️ He was coming back from a raid and met up with his crew at the bar

❄️ You were happy to see him and wanted to bring him his favorite drink

❄️ You pause when you see Rosaria giving him more attention than usual

❄️ It didn’t help that he was flirting back

❄️ He’s always flirted back with anyone who flirted with him

❄�� And you knew the sister does her best to stay out of peoples business but you also knew she used to harbor feelings for him

❄️ This wasn’t the first time this had happened

❄️ Jean, the traveler, Eury, Blanche, literally anyone who walked and talked to him while drinking he’d flirt with

❄️ It didn’t help being the bartender that you’d have to keep tending to him

❄️ So when he kissed rosaria on the cheek you lost it

❄️ You ended your shift early and went to the upstairs balcony for some air

❄️ You heard the door behind you and rolled your eyes

❄️ “Snowflake it was just a kiss on the cheek-“

❄️ “Then next time it’ll be just a kiss on the lips right?”

❄️ He tries to hug you but you shrug him off and attempts to ask what this is really about

❄️ You sigh and stare into his eyes, “were you ever gonna tell me about khanriea’h?”

❄️ He blinks slowly and watches as you pull the letter from his dad out of your pocket

❄️ “Where did you get that?”

❄️ “Does it matter? You’ve been lying to me about your heritage! Do they even know we’ve been dating for 2 years?”

❄️ You’re met with silence and you scoff. “Diluc was right about you. We’re done.” You throw the letter back at him and walk back down.

❄️ That was almost 2 years ago

❄️ Last he heard you were in Liyue, overhearing a conversation Timeaus had with his lady love

❄️ You have taken on a new lover, some guy who works at a funeral parlor

❄️ As he makes his way down the windmill, he sighs and stares at the photograph from the last windblume festival you attended together

❄️ Kaeya makes his way to headquarters to speak with Jean, surely he can make up a reason why he needs to travel to Liyue right?

Tighnari

🌳 The terms forest rangers, you, and Tighnari always were together

🌳 So it hurts when he travels alone to do his job

🌳 Being a forest ranger wasn’t ideal, but he did enjoy it especially if that meant time with you

🌳 The two of you had shared interests during your scholarly days which became a mutual interest of joining the forest rangers

🌳 Protecting the forests and its inhabitants was what brought you together, but it also drove you two apart

🌳 On a day when Collei’s disease had taken a turn for the worst, you gave her an herbal supplement that Tighnari has not approved of

🌳 Although the inflammation had subsided, your boyfriend was furious with you

🌳 “You could have killed her, you know I’m the only one who knows what’s best for her”

🌳 More and more arguments like that had happened, disagreements about which medicine or procedure to take for certain things

🌳 Until one day Tighnari snapped at you

🌳 “Damn it, can't you listen to me for once in your life? I’m the lead forest ranger for a reason, and there’s a reason why the akademiya denied you over and over again. You’re just selfish and stupid! Let me do it.”

🌳 Your lip trembled before you ran out of your shared treehouse, aware everyone had heard what he said to you

🌳 He was surprised when you weren’t beside him in the morning, usually coming back to bed after an argument to talk it over

🌳 But all he found was a letter saying you were done and had left

🌳 Inwardly he was panicking, but outwardly he had a job to do

🌳 So he kept up his job as months and months went by

🌳 He didn’t touch any of your stuff in hopes that you would return so he could apologize; does he sniff your pillow before he sleeps and starts his day? Yes, yes he does

🌳 It seemed his world halted when Cyno visited him with a piece of cloth from the shirt he made you

🌳 “What’s the meaning of this?”

🌳 Cyno sighs and sits with him. “We found this near an abandoned eremite camp, seems they’ve been captured and held for ransom. Something about some herbal medicine they made that was approved by the akademiya”

🌳 Tighnari goes from being alert and guilty, his tail and ears softening as he is remembering what he last said to you

🌳 “Why come here?”

🌳 Cyno stares at him “really? And I’m the one with the bad jokes… you’re dating?”

🌳 “Not for the last few months. They left after I called them stupid.”

🌳 “Well that was pretty stupid of you.”

🌳 Tighnari pinches his nose in frustration before begging to join him in the search and bargain for you

🌳 It takes days to track you down, visiting the places you made camp and explored guiding them toward the desert

🌳 Tighnari is usually pretty composed but his tail and ears gave him away any time Cyno would ask him a question or let him know how close they were

🌳 The general and forest ranger attacked the remote camp holding you hostage, taking everything they needed and apprehending the mercs

🌳 When Cyno walked out with you, hands still tied behind your back, Tighnari almost cried

🌳 He’d never seen you look so run down and broken, upset that they even dared to hurt you in such a way

🌳 He tries to hug you but you shrug him off, breaking his heart more

🌳 “Sweetheart…” he tries

🌳 Cyno shakes his head at his friend and commands everyone to return to the city

🌳 On the trip back it truly hits Tighnari of what he had done, the things he said, as he sits alone by a river bank

🌳 “I really messed up didnt i?”

🌳 He knows you’re behind him when you sit near him, still hesitant to have him enter your bubble

🌳 “Yeah, you did.”

Thoma

♦️ Helping people and making the world a better place is what Thoma does best!

♦️ And that’s what really drew you into him

♦️ You saw him feeding and taking care of some dogs outside of the city and soon enough you started to join him

♦️ It was a lovely and blossoming relationship, one filled with love and trust

♦️ But his duty came first and it just got in the way

♦️ You were heartbroken, but you knew the kindhearted man meant well and you had hoped things would be okay

♦️ He didn’t speak to you for months, despite his promise to always keep in touch and eventually a couple years passed

♦️ Since he was a busy body you wouldn’t run into him and vice versa

♦️ But boy did he want to see you again

♦️ He knows his lord and lady are in need of his services but he just wanted one week to try and find you, if just for friendship

♦️ He hadn’t told you of his occupation lest you get in trouble or hurt because of him

♦️ So to say he was taken aback when he saw you adorned in traditional wear next to Ayato, would be an understatement

♦️ The commission leader had called in Thoma for an upcoming announcement that he is to be married

♦️ Ayato recounts the story of how you met on the outskirts of the Kamisato Estate and that became your secret meeting spot for the last year and a half

♦️A year and a half? But you and thoma broke up over 2 years ago?? There’s no way… you wanted to see him? And make your relationship public?

♦️ If only he wasn’t working in Ritou at the time!!

♦️You smile so politely at Thoma and genuinely at Ayato with the same glimmer in your eyes that was reserved for him

♦️He does his best to hold back his emotions but you can read him like a book

♦️Besides, you did date the housekeeper for almost a year you should know him

♦️Ayato excused himself to attend to some work but encourages you to talk to Thoma

♦️The silence is awkward and suffocating until he finally has the courage to speak up

♦️“Why him?”

♦️“I came here to talk to you, he saw me at our secret spot, and you now know the rest.”

♦️“But that’s our spot…”

♦️“Thoma…” you move to wipe his tears and he holds you tight, kissing you along your neck

♦️“I still love you”

♦️“I’m engaged”

♦️“Sunshine please,” you wanna tear up from the pleading in his voice

♦️“I’m sorry, he put me first”

♦️Ayato returns and kisses you on the cheek and you giggle like a schoolgirl

♦️Thoma sees himself out and blinks away the tears threatening to fall once more

Kazuha

💨The ocean breeze blows through his hair as he stands on The Crux

💨Beidou is shouting orders and the crew does as she commands

💨His smile fades as he spots a beautiful bird in the sky, notating they’re closer to land

💨He remembers the days the two of you would go bird watching

💨You’d tell him of all the different calls, migration patterns, feather designs all meant and he would rest his head on your lap

💨He loved the sound of your voice in the calm breeze and he misses it every day

💨He wonders if you even remember him, it has been a little more than a year

💨He wasn’t sure how to handle relationship and even worse at when you decided to break it off with him

💨The sea and Inazuma was his home, but your home was in Mondstadt

💨The distance was getting too much for you and Kazuha didn’t wanna admit he was feeling it too

💨He loved to spar with you with his clans sword and talk to you about his family history

💨But that was when you were visiting Liyue and traveled with him once

💨Sea life wasn’t for you, the city of freedom is where you belong

💨His love of writing poetry seemed to disseminate the longer you were away

💨Huh, it seems you were his muse

💨Seeing the bird sparked something, but all he could think about was you

💨He could’ve written about the birds wings but wrote about your blissful personality

💨He wanted to write about the majestic flight, but wrote about how your eyes held the future in them

💨No matter what he did he would always write about you

💨Kazuha sighs and walks away from the boats edge

💨The captain approaches him and hands him an evenlope.

💨“Another letter from Mondstadt”

💨Kazuha takes it and puts it in his pocket, next to the other one

💨“Are you ever gonna read them?”

💨The anemo wielder knows better but gives in and reads what you have to say

💨It’s mostly just how you’re living, still admiring birds and reading up on them

💨You mention how you miss him and hope he’s doing well

💨You let him know that he is always welcome to Mondstadt to see you, but it’s strictly platonic

💨Your intricate words of how intoxicating his love is has him rethinking love in all senses of the word

💨Did he truly take your breath away to the point it drove you away?

💨Was loving you too much or too little for you?

💨He rips up the letters and let them float in the wind, hoping it’ll sink into the abyss

💨Similar to what his heart is doing right now

#genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham angst #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x y/n #kaeya angst #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #thoma x y/n #thoma x reader #kazuha #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x reader #my writing #i did the thing

959 notes · View notes

lemon-natalia · 21 days

Text

Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 6

even immortal Lyctors have to deal with work meetings, no wonder she’s pissed off if she’s been dealing with Teams meetings for ten thousand years straight

this is Mercymorn! she doesn’t seem very impressed by Ianthe or Harrow. ‘sacred hand’ isn’t too bad, but if my job title was ‘holy thumb’ i think i’d quit

ooh i didn’t connect it before, but Harrow wrote a letter for if her eyes changed - and thats specifically a sign of becoming a Lyctor!

i mean Harrow is relatively young, but i feel like to someone ten thousand years old anyones gonna feel like a baby after a while. also imagine Mercy's reaction if Isaac had managed to become a Lyctor lol

Mercymorn reminds Ianthe of her mother? wow i don’t think i want to meet Mrs Tridentarius

ok, so the Erebos isn’t actually his seat like i had assumed, thats somewhere else

‘his close personal interest in this war’ well yeah he’s the Emperor i would hope he's invested in it

the Emperor hugging Mercymorn and her freezing up - feels like theres an interesting dynamic there

‘I know exactly who is behind this terrible blow’ great! if you could give some handy exposition so the reader could also know, that would be brilliant

the last person Harrow called ‘teacher’ turned out to be a vengeful ghost, so this doesn’t feel great

did he just resurrect that random Cohort member??

the Body looking at the Emperor … it just occurred to me that she might not just be a hallucination of Harrow, but maybe she made some kind of actual mental connection with the Locked Tomb body

oooh the drama between Mercy & Augustine, now i want a Lyctor soap opera

we know that Harrow told herself via letter to never give up the sword, but i think its interesting that the Emperor is letting her keep it

ok so all the water & magma metaphors are an explanation for how they’re able to travel so far in such a short space of time - kind of like Star Wars hyperspace travel, except actually given an explanation lol

‘voyaging nervously into the chamber of another person’s brain’ another person, not specifically Ortus here, hmm

#lemon natalia reads the locked tomb #the locked tomb #tlt #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb liveblog

31 notes · View notes

scintillyyy · 1 year

Text

you know, i kind of touched on this in my au post earlier today, but it really got me thinking about how much tim joins the batfam early/jason doesn't die in ethiopia really, really relies on fanon understanding of relationships and almost has to prioritize the jason&tim relationship/perpetuate the idea that jason was "tim's robin" (my eyebrow twitches even writing that) because if it doesn't and we go by canon....jason really kind of ends up adrift due to tim's arrival, if he's not the person that tim is absolutely fixated on/that is saving tim.

because tim doesn't canonically need to be saved! he's not that socially awkward, he can make friends within 5 minutes of entering a room. he doesn't really need jason to do anything for him, to be anyone special for him. like, he admittedly probably admires jason-robin, but like, in an abstract way, not a super emotional way. tim would admire current robin whether it was jason in the costume or some random kid named jeff. jason's canonically not that special to tim, not like dick is. if jason quit and bruce replaced him with someone who wasn't jason, tim would just move on to admiring whoever is robin next and not really think about jason anymore, because the only robin who matters long-term is dick.

so if jason isn't the center of tim's world we get a tim who joins the batfam and immediately gets his canonical super-special connection with dick, through dick's parents and the night they fell and being there. and this is a connection that jason will always be excluded from, a wall between them almost. like, they might all like each other. dick does love jason. but it's almost like when you introduce two friends of yours and they immediately click super well and become better friends with each other than they are with you. like, dick is a good brother to jason. but jason's arrival will forever be marred by the actions of bruce, because bruce was the one who chose jason, though dick did eventually accept him as a brother. tim on the other hand came in connected intrinsically with dick. in many ways, tim is the brother without the baggage of bruce. tim is the brother that dick chose for himself based on past connection and fated past meetings. he's picture kid. he's the brother because of dick's parents, not because of bruce.

and isn't that lonely and a bit isolating for jason? sure he has his bond with bruce/his dad, but when it comes to his peers he is a bit on the outside looking in--he doesn't have a same-generation cohort. (which is also why i think it's funny when *tim* is always the one who's cast as this social outcast who has no bonds to anyone. now, i don't think that any of the batkids are socially awkward--on the contrary, i think they're all very good with people, but canonically, due to the short time he was alive for post-treatment, jason doesn't really have a ton of friends outside of bruce and alfred. and idk he doesn't seem to see a need to have a ton of friends! he's perfectly content being batman's son, batman's robin, he doesn't really need anyone or anything else. sure he enjoyed his mission with the titans that one time, but he's not really searching for outside connections or friends for him and bruce, not like tim does as robin. because jason is shown to be pretty content with the way things are--until we get closer to death in the family, ofc, but that's not really about feeling lonely for friends, but feeling lonely for his mother. idk do we ever have him yearning for friends? i'm not as well versed on all of jason as robin)

anyways, then we get superboy and impulse and wonder girl and young justice and they're still very much tim's cohort, not jason's. they are 13-15 year olds who act like 13-15 year olds. jason being like...2-3 years older than them would not fit in from a maturity level. and he probably does more with the titans on occasion, but he's only like 17 and they're all like...20s and having kids so he doesn't quite fit in fully there either, they just treat him like a younger brother. so where does he fit? he's kind of alone in his own odd little solitary generation there. tim doesn't really need him. dick doesn't really need him. all he has really is bruce, his dad and best friend. so it's like, when it comes to these types of stories...if jason is not tim's #1 upon tim joining the family, then what does jason have?

and i do see some resentment there. not like, pure hatred. but isn't life unfair? this kid comes in and his life is seemingly pretty good for him at first. he has dick's love unconditionally. he writes barbara thank you notes. he has a easy way of moving through the superhero community making friends with everyone like dick does and oh, i think that's a big frustration. because i don't think jason was jealous and angry at dick all the time but he was notably a little frustrated at having to live in dick's shadow sometimes (again, see his mission with the titans where he loses his temper that they look at just his uniform and expect him to be dick for them) and then to see tim have those traits like dick that jason-as-robin struggles with and thrive with them?

so yea. that's why i think a lot of those aus really depend on needing to make jason tim's #1, because if he's not, then where else does he belong?

#yea im not throwing this in the tags #sometimes we just don't tag controversy

236 notes · View notes

buckyr00s · 2 years

Text

Call Sign: FANBOY

pairing: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia x Reader

summary: There are reasons why Mickey Garcia got the call sign he did. But maybe the most important one...is you.

warnings/tags: short and sweet fluff, possible canonical inaccuracies (?), a lil meta

author’s note: I really thought my first writing post would be about Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, or Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw considering my URL but there is a severe lack of Fanboy content on this website. Also, I’m not sure if some of the stuff I wrote is canonically correct but it is what it is lol A special thank you to @bradshawsbaby for all your support and help. Thank you, thank you! Hope you all enjoy :)

READ PART TWO HERE

main masterlist || send requests

There’s no denying that Mickey Garcia is a damn good WSO. Despite being one of the youngest in his Top Gun cohorts, he is one of the best the US Navy’s ever seen. Being one the best, however, does not make him immune to the teasing that comes with Naval camaraderie. That’s very evident in his call sign: FANBOY.

When anyone asks him about the origins of his call sign, he’ll recite an answer he’s handcrafted ever since the name was assigned to him. First, he’ll blame his age. As one of the youngest, Mickey automatically got the ‘little brother’ designation and the treatment that goes along with that.

He’ll bring up his first time around at Top Gun and the frequent pranks that his buddies would pull on him. He’ll talk about the one time his friends broke into his locker to orchestrate a surprise--fake--spider prank, criticizing their lack of originality. To be fair, his combination was his birthday, so it wasn’t the best security measure on his part. He’ll usually leave that detail out, but when he does let it slip, he’ll immediately make it clear that he’s learned his lesson.

He’ll recount how in opening his locker, his friends were greeted by a gallery of photos of his family, his friends, his love, and...still photos of Top Gun (1986). “Listen, that movie changed lives,” he’ll justify. “And it’s not like I’m the only one who wanted to join the Navy after watching it”. He’s right, but still. FANBOY strike 1.

Then, he’ll talk about how they also stumbled on his CD collection. Yes, he is the type of person who in a time when digital streaming has made CDs virtually obsolete, continually purchases, collects, and frequently uses CDs. “They’re cool to have and something I can pass down,” he shrugs. On top of that, though, the man kept the CDs in his locker. “For convenience,” he’ll stress. “Everyone loves a good playlist.” FANBOY strike 2.

He’ll mention how his friends explain what they did next. He was told that when people discover a collection, naturally, there’s a desire to go through it. And that’s what his buddies did. Led Zeppelin. Jimi Hendrix. Stevie Wonder. Selena. Bob Dylan. The Jackson 5. Nirvana. Bad Bunny. Jay-Z. BTS. Backstreet Boys. Carrie Underwood. N*SYNC. JLO. He especially got teased for the last few. FANBOY strike 3.

But most of all, he got teased for a certain CD. It was a blank CD, the cover flipped to its blank side. Written in Sharpie, the cover read, “To Star, from your biggest fan”. Surrounding the writing were the attempts of heart and star doodles, though they looked more like guitar picks and sparks. He tried his best. But it was clear what it was: a mixtape.

He’ll describe how his friends must have scrambled, forgetting about the prank they planned to execute. He’ll think about how they must have decided that the more appealing option was to dive deeper into their discovery. They probably slammed his locker shut, sprinting to the lounge to pop the CD into the CD player. Mickey imagines his friends huddled around the speaker, leaning closely and intently as they anticipated what they would hear.

The first few seconds were silent.

Then a rustling.

A deep breath in.

And out.

“Hi baby. I miss you so much. I know the distance has been as tough on you as it has been for me. But I want to thank you for always being there. For supporting me. And as we continue to follow our dreams separately, just know that I think of you constantly. That you and our future together are always on my mind. That I’m so proud of you for doing your thing and admire you so much for it. I’m your biggest fan, forever and always. Sky’s the limit with you and me, Star. I love you.”

And with that, Berlin’s Take My Breath Away starts to play. FANBOY strike... it probably isn’t quantifiable at this point.

My God, did that really take his friends’ breaths away. Mickey was told that they didn’t know whether to cringe, laugh, or sympathize. So...they stayed frozen.

A few bars into the song, he walked into the lounge, drawn by the familiar tune. He found them all gathered around the CD player, eyes wide and jaws dropped. Processing.

“What’s going on?” he gently asked, apprehension and suspicion radiating off of him.

Collectively, his friends’ eyes trail from their stare at the CD player to his confused face. Mickey will describe how he saw it happen in slow motion. He’ll paint the exact moment he figured out what his friends discovered and how they’d next respond. He says he had a millisecond to prepare himself.

Then, the room erupted. His friends jumped up, whooping, hollering, whistling, cackling, making smooching noises. They called him whipped. Love struck. But what can he say? He’s a fanboy.

author’s note: Andddd that’s it. That’s my first writing post. Hope you like it! I have ideas for what would happen when Fanboy introduces Star!Reader to his Navy friends. I would love any comments and feedback, as well as any requests you might have!

Also a special thank you, again, to @bradshawsbaby for the idea of Fanboy making a mixtape for his love and his friends finding it. Such a cute, funny, and fitting idea. Thank you, thank you!

READ PART TWO HERE

main masterlist || send requests

#mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy #mickey garcia #fanboy garcia #danny ramirez #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy garcia x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #tgm #tg:m

591 notes · View notes

hyunfilms · 2 years

Text

all for nothing | one.

♡ series masterlist

—summary: after experiencing heartbreak and betrayal, hyunjin has become incredibly closed off and reserved. he hated opening up to people, nor did he think the time or effort was worth it. but when hyunjin meets you, he finally realizes the importance of having someone by your side throughout all the ups and downs of life.

—pairing: hyunjin x f. reader

—genre: (18+) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.7k

—chapter warnings: nothing too bad, some cussing, very basic introduction to the fic, someone’s a meanie, hints at infidelity, mentions of parties and getting too drunk, some hints of anxiety, they all attend brigham in hawaiʻi but not every depiction of the school/area will match what it is in real life, apologies for any errors as i quickly skimmed through this before posting!

—notes: hi everyone! i hope you enjoy the start to this series. i’ll try to update every weekend from here on out. i’ve been on a writing hiatus for awhile, so i’m sorry if it starts off a little slow or anything like that. also, my chapters tend to be short because i like to spread out my chapters and lengthen the series that way. i do hope you like it! ♡

"Okay." You breathe out, staring out at the campus in front of you. "Shit." You mutter to yourself when you realize you have no idea where your first class of the day is located on this campus.

"Need help?" A black, shaggy haired boy appeared from behind you, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. You simply stare at him as you fully turn to give him your attention— clock ticking down to 7 minutes before your class would start.

"Is it obvious?" He shrugs and chuckles a bit.

"Yeah, kinda. No biggie though, still taking me a bit to get used to." His voice is deep, Australian accent strong. You almost wonder where it comes from with how not-so-intimidating he looks. "Felix." He puts his hand out.

"Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you." He takes a look at the paper in your hands. "May I?"

"Sure." He takes it from your hands and nods slowly.

"Ah, okay. Duley Hall is down that way. I just had class there earlier this morning." He checks his watch. "We'll get you there in time."

"Thanks." You smile before awkwardly following alongside of him. Honestly, you were a bit relieved he had bumped into you. Your decision to attend the biology graduate program here at Brigham Young University was abrupt, almost incredibly last minute. You had decided on staying near home, continuing your education at Chaminade with familiar faces and staying comfortable in your safety zone. However, your teacher had offered you a position to work at his new lab in Brigham, offering to pay a good salary while being flexible with your class schedule. Dr. Kreher trusted you solely because you had been a student and intern of his since your undergrad sophomore year. He had seen you grow, seen you through your best and worst, seen you flourish in his lab. Because of the last minute agreement, you didn't have time to tour the entire campus before they were trying to meet deadlines to shuffle you into the next cohort. You were grateful, happy to have this opportunity come up right out of undergrad. Still, it wasn't easy suddenly having to switch from one university to another. You missed the friends you made, you missed the comfort and knowing the familiar. You missed being near home, you missed the convenience. Now, you were an hour and a half away by car, living in a small in-law on a family friend's property in exchange for some occasional nannying and light housework.

It all happened so fast. For something that placed you on the right path, somehow, you still felt lost.

You wondered how long it would last.

"Where'd you come from, if you don't mind me asking?" He turns to you, hands tugging onto his bag strap.

"Chaminade." He nods.

"That's on the opposite side of the island, isn't it? Almost two hours or so?"

"Mmm, pretty much."

"Why come out here?"

"Well, I was going to continue at Chaminade's graduate program, but one of my professors moved here and offered me a position in his research lab."

"Oh, that's sick. You're in the biology graduate program?" You nod.

"Mhm, I work with Dr. Kreher." Felix furrows his brows a bit and cocks his head to the side, confusion evident on his expression. "He's an infectious disease professor, not entirely sure what classes he'll be teaching though." He chuckles a bit.

"No worries, that's cool though. Must feel nice to know a professor like that, yeah?"

"Kinda." You give off a small laugh. "I feel like it's more pressure."

"I get that."

"What about you?"

"Psychology graduate program."

"Oh, cool!" You look at him with a smile.

"Mm, I suppose." He shrugs, shyly smiling. "So, I'm assuming your family is back in Waikiki?"

"Mhm. I was born and raised there. What about you? Are you from the island?" He shakes his head, which is probably a dumb question to ask being that his accent is pretty thick.

"No. I'm originally from Australia, my family's there. I moved to the big island for undergrad, then Oahu for the graduate program."

"Wow, now that's far. Why move from the big island?"

"Ah, I just like new sceneries, new adventures." He smiles again before leading you into Duley Hall, climbing up the steps right near the front entrance. He leads you to the second floor, turns left at the top and passes two doors before he stops in his tracks. "Welp, you made it with—" He checks his watch. "2 minutes to spare." He pokes his head into the classroom and notices a few empty seats. "Still have some good seats left."

"Thank you, Felix."

"No problem."

"Is your class nearby?"

"It's in another building across campus, but I'll get there, don't worry." You felt bad, but all you can do is nod. "See you around, Y/N. It was nice talking with you." And with that, you give him one last smile before heading into the classroom. The class sizes are standard— nothing too big, nothing too small. You head up to the third row of seats, sitting close to the opposite end. You silently sit your bag down, taking out your notebook and a couple of different colored pens, setting it neatly on the desktop. Suddenly, someone comes to sit next to you, a soft, warm smile on his face as he settles into his seat.

"Hi." He smiles and sets his bag down before crouching over to grab his book and notebook. "No one was sitting here, right? I should've asked before." He chuckles, making you scrunch your nose at how cutely shy he was.

"No, you're good." Maybe this move wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I'm Jeongin." He slides on his glasses before holding out his hand for a quick shake.

"Y/N."

"Cool. I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"Around Brigham?" He nods. "Oh well, yeah. I went to Chaminade for undergrad."

"Ouuu, Chaminade's nice. Why the change?"

"Hm, one of my professors started working here and offered me a position in his lab."

"Wow, that's awesome. You're pretty set then." You giggle and shrug.

"I wouldn't say that just yet." You look at his notebook, watching as he jots the date down neatly. "So, you've attended Brigham since freshman year?" He nods.

"Sure have. I love it here." He gives you a toothless smile.

"Seeing a lot of familiar faces?"

"Some, not a whole lot though—" At this point, the professor walks in, setting her stuff alongside the front desk before booting up her laptop and getting her slide deck onto presentation mode through the projection.

"Class, hello hello. I'm Dr. Kuo, I'll be your professor for Advanced Molecular Biotechnology." Her eyes dart from the class to the individual who walks in a bit after her introduction. You can't help but stare a bit at him as he quietly walks in with his head hung low; black hair to the length of his neck, beautiful pale skin and plush, pink lips. He doesn't really look at his surroundings even though most eyes fall on him as he heads to the back of the classroom. You look over your shoulder, watching as he lets his bag fall to the ground before slouching in his seat. "Please be on time for class, as I'll be starting our agenda right away." She's pretty much directing her remark to him, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he takes out a notebook and pen, then rests his cheek on his fist.

"I'd hate to be on her bad side." Jeongin whispers to you, even though he pays no attention to the individual that just got settled into class. Almost like he knew him, like this was a natural, day to day occurrence.

"Is she mean?"

"I heard a few things about her. She takes awhile to warm up and is pretty harsh with her quizzes, tests, even grading projects." He pushes his glasses up his nose a bit, squinting at the projector screen.

"Mm, we'll see. It is the master's program, after all. I shouldn't even be surprised." He quickly looks at you with a smile before jotting down notes. The rest of the class is pretty standard, with you and Jeongin pairing up for some partner work towards the last half of class. You find out he's the middle child, having a younger brother in elementary school and an older brother— two years older, as matter of fact. He's super easy to work with and is incredibly patient after all the questions you've thrown his way during the partner activity. It may be early, but you were already considering Jeongin to be someone you could get close to while you were here, especially being that you were in the same program together.

It would be nice to have that while you were away from home. You had to remind yourself it wasn't too far, but it also wasn't easy for you to go home every single weekend. Not with your upcoming schedule already being packed with classes and work. Can't forget the help you've promised the family you live with.

"What's your next class?" Jeongin tugs on his bag strap while he walks alongside of you out of the building.

"Advanced biochemistry." He does a slight head tilt.

"I have the later class. I'm off to lab."

"Where's lab at?"

"Hale Center. It's where most of our labs and science classrooms are." He chuckles. "Well, except this one. Pretty sure advanced biochemistry is there, yeah?" You nod.

"It is."

"Cool. I'll walk with you till we have to part ways." The two of you continue to engage in small talk until you reach the middle point of campus, where most students are at— either making their way to on-campus dorms, the dining hall, library or other nearby buildings for class. It's much livelier around these parts, Jeongin already greeting a few familiar faces as you walk to the other end where Hale Center is located.

"Jeongin!" He looks up ahead of him, waving at a friend coming towards you two.

"Changbinnie." He teases, making the other laugh. Alongside of him was Felix, to your surprise, making you smile and wave at him as well. "What's up, dude?"

"Just going to my last class, what about you?"

"Got lab." He responds.

"Loser." Changbin responds, making Jeongin pinch his bicep. "Ah, hey, this is Felix." Jeongin laughs, putting his hand out to shake Felix's.

"This is Y/N. Y/N, Changbin, Fe—"

"Felix." You call for him softly.

"You survived class." He laughs.

"Nice, you two know each other?"

"He helped me get to class earlier." You turn your attention to Changbin. "It's nice to meet you though, Changbin."

"Same to you." He smiles. "Hey, I'm gonna go to the library and get some work done later. You down?"

"Since when do you go to the library?"

"Shut up. New year, new me." Jeongin laughs.

"Maybe, I'll let you know." Changbin nods.

"You guys are welcome to come too, if you want! The more the merrier." You and Felix smile with a small shrug.

"Thanks. I might take you up on that if work doesn't go overtime for me." You all say your goodbyes and part ways for the time being, the walk falling silent until Jeongin chimes in again.

"Already going to work?"

"Yuuuup."

"Well, you should definitely come meet up with us afterwards anyway."

"I'll try to. It'd be nice to get a head start on things, anyway." He hands you his phone as the both of you stand inside Hale Center's main lobby. You give him a toothless smile, grabbing his phone to plug in your number. When you hand it back to him, he fiddles with it for a minute before you feel the vibration of your own phone in your pocket.

"That's me." He smiles. "Let me know if you'll come meet us."

"Okay."

"See you later, maybe? Have fun in class and work!" He starts to walk backwards, waving enthusiastically before he darts up the steps to his lab room.

Your day goes by pretty smoothly, with you darting off to Dr. Kreher's lab as soon as you finish off your last class of the day. Surprisingly, he's in the lab, mainly because he wants to show you where things are and where the shared supply room was at. He also informs you that he'll be taking on an undergraduate class, so he'll need some help printing out the syllabus to hand out, plus stocking extra supplies in his lab alone just so he has everything in one place. You happily agree to help him as you toss in your lab coat and wipe down the UV hood, immediately getting started on your usual routine. So now, not only were you in charge of running this malaria study with him, but now, you'd be helping him out with his undergraduate students.

You'd for sure be busy for quite some time. You wondered when the next time you could go home would be.

When Dr. Kreher leaves you to your peace, you work under the hood for a couple of hours until you have some down time while you wait for your stained slides to dry. You take this opportunity to print extra copies of the syllabus just as he asked before running to the storage room next door. You grab a couple of supplies from the list he handed over and drag them back to the lab, arranging it neatly along the shelves and countertops. By the time you were finished helping him get ready for class, your slides were ready to be examined under the microscope. It took you a couple of minutes to check out your samples, determining next steps and acting appropriately before wiping everything down and shutting the hood down for the night. You sigh, the clock already hitting 8pm as you hang your labcoat onto the rack and grab your things. You swiftly exit the lab, grabbing your phone to text Jeongin to see if they were still at the library.

However, you felt yourself crash into another body before you could even hit send, the sound of disposable pipette packs and paper towel rolls hitting the floor in front of you.

"Oh my god, I am soooo sorry." You crouch down to grab the pack of pipettes, but a large hand snatches it from the ground before you can even try to help out. "Let me help—"

"Jeez. I got it." He says with an attitude. You look up at him when you stand, realizing it's the same guy who had walked in late to Dr. Kuo's class. He looks at you with his brows furrowed, removing an airpod from his right ear. "Wanna watch where you're going next time?" He plugs his airpod back into his ear before snatching the roll of paper towels on the floor.

"Sorry." You mutter softly. He simply brushes past you to the supply room. You stand there, feeling a bit awkward and upset at the interaction, but you brush it off to finally send the text to Jeongin.

You quietly tug on your bag strap as you step out of Hale Center and follow the signs that would lead you to the library. It was bigger than you imagined, your feet automatically bringing you to the loud section of the library. There were tables lined along the middle, sandwiched in between the aisles and aisles of books. You catch sight of Jeongin towards the back end, Changbin sitting next to him with Felix in front. He sees you as his eyes scan the library, eyes turning into half crescents as he smiles and waves you over.

"Hey." You say as you approach the table, slipping into the seat next to Felix.

"Oh hey!" Felix and Changbin say, scooting their things over to make room for you.

"How was work?" Jeongin asks.

"It was alright, I guess." You take out your laptop and start logging into the student portal to see if there were any introductory assignments you needed to get done for the rest of your classes this week.

"You guess? Bad day already?" Changbin teases.

"No, everything was fine. I just—" You look at them and shake your head, afraid to spill too much on the first day. Not that you felt like Changbin, Felix or Jeongin would judge you for being upset over such a small interaction, but you felt the need to suppress it anyway; like you shouldn't sound like a complainer or a brat on the first day of school, even if that wasn't your intention. "I'm just tired."

"I'm sure." Felix says. "You shouldn't work yourself too much for the rest of the night."

"I won't. I'm just going to see if there's anything else I need to do for the rest of my classes." They nod. "How was today for you guys?" Changbin nods.

"Honestly? Pretty boring." He chuckles. "But, at the same time, I can already sense the stress coming. So, I'll take what I can get for now."

"Yeah, that." Jeongin laughs.

"We should go to more social events together during grad school." Changbin adds.

"Did you guys not go to a lot during undergrad?"

"I did, this dude didn't."

"It gets overwhelming, okay." Jeongin chuckles. "People just get sloppy and weird." He puts his hand out as he corrects himself. "Not everyone, but most."

"I get that."

"It's because of that one party, huh?" Changbin looks at him and laughs. "Fuuuuck."

"Shut up." Jeongin's cheeks turn a faint red.

"What happened?" Changbin continues to laugh while Jeongin sighs.

"Some girl that had a crush on me got really drunk at a party, threw herself on me then tried to kiss me before she threw up." Jeongin visibly cringes. "Some of it got on my jeans before I moved out of the way." He fake cries. "Those were my favorite jeans."

"Oh shit." Felix says.

"I'm sorry." You make a face. "Understandably overwhelming."

"Ah, no biggie now. I would just prefer to not deal with throw up on my jeans again." He looks at Changbin. "But, if Felix and Y/N are down, I'll go."

"Yeah, that sounds fun." Felix responds. You continue to work amongst yourself, your eyes glancing around the library from time to time when the library gets a little nosier than usual. The last glance you take, you catch sight of that same black-haired individual heading down an aisle nearby, grabbing a book and heading back to the front to check out. You didn't catch yourself staring with a certain expression plastered on your face, but Jeongin does, and he can't help but scrunch his nose before giving off a small laugh.

"Do you not like him or something?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Hyunjin." So that's his name.

"Is that his name?"

"You're looking at the guy that walked late into Dr. Kuo's class, right?" You nod. "Yeah, that's Hyunjin."

"Hyunjin as in Hwang Hyunjin?" Changbin adds in this certain tone. "He's a weird one." Now, they both look at you. "Why, what about him?"

"Nothing." You shrug.

"You think he's cute?" Jeongin chuckles as he teases you. You're not gonna lie, the dude is attractive as hell. Tall as hell. Built right as hell. Attitude, though? Hard pass.

"Aw babe, save it for a guy who would really appreciate it. He's not gonna budge." Changbin chimes in before you can even respond to Jeongin's question. "We've known him since undergrad and dude barely says a word to anyone."

"Hm, he's just quiet." Jeongin says.

"Doesn't mean he's weird, though. Maybe he just likes to keep to himself, or maybe he's quiet in general." Felix says to soften the conversation.

"No, he's weird, alright. He doesn't say shit, nor does he even try with anyone. Couldn't be me."

"That's cause you're always so fucking loud." Changbin pinches his arm, making him yelp in return. "Ouch, stop! It's true!"

"Anyways." Changbin glares at him before returning his attention to you and Felix. "I say weird because in the beginning, he was pretty talkative and social. He hung around certain people, had a girlfriend at one point. Everyone thought they were the cutest couple on campus. Then, after sophomore year, he just flipped. Now, he's always pretty cold when people talk to him and try to be friendly. And it's crazy, cause I've talked to a few girls who think he's pretty attractive too, but he just brushes it off. He really doesn't try with people anymore."

"Maybe something happened to make him closed off like that." Felix pouts a bit.

"I heard it was because his girlfriend was cheating on him with his own bestfriend." Jeongin furrows his brows.

"Chan?" Changbin nods.

"Yeah, dude. Crazy, huh?"

"Well, we don't even know if it's true."

"I honestly think it is, I don't remember seeing him hanging around with Chan or his girlfriend after that."

"Mm. It's not really our business anyway." You look behind you to see if Hyunjin is still in the library, but he isn't. Even if it were all true, you weren't sure if that was a good enough reason for Hyunjin to act the way he was acting towards other people. You didn't know him though, didn't think you could get to know him, so this— this is what you'll leave it at.

The conversation about Hyunjin dies down after Jeongin responds with it not being anyone's business. You and the boys end up finishing some work and leave the library a bit past 11PM, Jeongin offering to walk you to your car before parting ways with you for the evening. It's a little too late for your family back home, but you decide to send them a text anyway— letting them know about your busy first day and that you're heading home.

It's quiet on your street. You park your car alongside the sidewalk, street light dimly lighting your surroundings. You grab your things and slip through the gate, heading straight to the back of the property where your small in-law studio is nestled. You lock your door and set your things down before getting your kettle going to boil some hot water for a quick bowl of ramen. You get washed up and throw on your pajamas, settling onto your bed with your bowl of ramen and Youtube on your laptop. You didn't realize how hungry you were until you looked down and saw that you had finished every bit of your ramen. You pout to yourself before your phone vibrates off to the side, signaling a text coming in.

Yeah, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe, you'd make new friends and make yourself feel at home. But, your mind suddenly flashes to Hyunjin. Even with someone like him, a minor interaction as such, it was easy to bring you back to feeling alone. Still.

Can't win them all, I suppose.

♡ taglist: @lotus-dly @hyunk1ss @sstarryoong @laylasbunbunny @azeret98

#hwang hyunjin series #hyunjin series #hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #hyunjin angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunfilms: all for nothing

289 notes · View notes

taylorswiftstylequestions · 13 days

Note

Lover Day! The legacy of this album fascinates me because the way its release is remembered is so different than how things actually went in 2019. The way online swifties talk about, you’d think it was a commercial and critical flop, but it was the highest selling album of 2019 and at the time considered to be her most critically acclaimed. I think this revisionist history is probably due to a mix of the singles being weak/not hitting number one (until four years later, that is) and the era being cut short by covid, but it’s so weird to hear some of the fan narratives around the album as someone who was there lol. I’m really glad Eras had finally given it the respect it deserves though

Again I attribute this to me currently reading a book about generational cohorts so apologies for how topical I'm being but you saying this makes me think and laugh wondering why is Lover treated like Gen X. Smushed in between two larger eras (rep/Boomer, folkmore/Millennial) and genre shifts that was cut short but did really cool and amazing things at the time that no one can seem to remember now.

#but also the singles were not particularly memorable and lover could have used some tracklist editing #opinion

14 notes · View notes

rendy-a · 11 months

Text

Dressed for Success with the Horesback Riding Club

You started your afternoon with a casual walk. Your first-year friends were all busy with their own clubs today, so you'd gone out hoping to stumble upon something to do with your time. You hadn't really expected to literally stumble upon someone, and yet...

Silver apologized again. You'd fallen over Silver's long legs where they'd stretched over the path. He'd been on his way to Club when he'd stopped to listen to his bird friends; their musical voices became reminiscent of a lullaby and then...

"I thank you again for waking me, Prefect." Silver says kindly, "I'd hate to disappoint Riddle by being late to Club." You pat your senior in the back, and he continues, "Riddle does like it when people are prompt. Among other things." You could well imagine that.

Soon, you arrived at the stables. "Ah, looks like we've arrived, Silver, sir." The sleepy senior looks around, shaking a coming wave of drowsiness away. "It appears we have. Thanks for walking with me to make sure I made it. I wish there was some way to repay your kindness." You smile gently at him, "Oh, it's no trouble." Then Silver opened his eyes slightly, "Ah! I've got an idea, why don't I teach you to ride?" You chuckle at your stoic senior, marveling at how he hardly changes expression in his surprise. "Sure, why not. I've got no plans."

You follow Silver to the stable yard and gaze in awe at the beautiful horses that call NRC home while Silver disapears inside to retrieve saddles. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Came a yell from inside the stable, startling both you and the nearby horse. The door flings open and out strode Sebek followed much mode calmly by Silver. Sebek stops in front of you and the shouting continues, "HUMAN! How dare you think you can just waltz in here and take up my valuable training time with your nonsense!"

Silver patiently interrupts his tirade, "I invited the Perfect to join us. They helped me make it to club on time." Sebek looks even more frustrated (you hadn't known that was possible) when he chides his cohort, "Silver! Don't go bringing me into your problems! You are an aspiring knight of the great Malleus! You need to solve your own problems!"

Although Silver seems entirely used to this sort of behavior, you are offended on his behalf. "Hey! That's not nice! Silver just invited me here as thanks. There's no need to be so mean about it!" Sebek let's out a huff of annoyance, his brow creasing deeply, "What would you possibly understand about it? You don't know what it means to train under the great Lilia and Malleus. " In that moment, you are struck by inspiration, "I know, and that's exactly why I'm here. How dare I attend the same school as the great and wonderful Malleus and not know how to properly ride a horse? Shameful! That's why I was so pleased when I had the opportunity to train under the disciples of the famous Lilia. You'll help me too, won't you, Sebek? For the sake of preserving the dignity of Malleus?"

For a knight, Sebek has a remarkably open expression; allowing his thoughts to be easily read across his face. You can see his struggle over wanting to be rid of you and yet also desiring the pride of aiding his liege in this manner. You think Sebek is secretly fonder of you than he pretends because a short time later, he sighs and accepts your explanation, "If that is your goal, then I have no choice but to guide you. We can't have the reputation of Malleus tarnished by shoddy horsemanship!"

You smile at Sebek indulently, "Gee, that will be a big help. So let's get started!" Sebek looks at your horrified. He gestures to you and states in a scandalized voice, "You can't ride horses in THAT!" You look down at what you are wearing, spreading the shirt like you meant to do a curtsy, and gazing at it in contemplation. It was just a common dorm shirt, not really suited for strenuous work, but at the same time, what else had you?

"Am sure I'll be fine." You smile at Sebek, hopeful that he'd let it pass. His face scrunched up as though thinking the matter over gravely. Finally, he sighs, "There is nothing to be done about it then. Come along, Prefect. I'll just have to make sure you are fit for a ride."

You looked at Silver, hoping he'd bail you out, but instead, Silver gives you an encouraging smile and sends you on your way. So, you smile awkwardly and follow Sebek deeper into the stable. "We keep some spare things here for new members or in case of accidents. To start with..." His gaze travels down your form and you again spread your shirt out with a sad smile. "A helmet." He finishes firmly.

He then marches over to a shelf that holds various riding helmets and hands you one. A cute pumpkin pattern runs along the edge. It's a surprise to you, but the whimsical choice makes you smile. "I like it," you tell him, surprised to be enjoying this odd makeover with Sebek. You ask him eagerly, "What's next?" You spread your shirt again, in a sort of wordless question. "Don't be so hasty, Prefect. Even miracles take a little time."

The following minutes are spent swapping your wardrobe from a drab Ramshackle set-up to proper riding gear. Sebek chose a light blue jacket for you, set over a gold colored shirt. You gave a twirl, showing off the way the skirts of the jacket flared from the movement.

Riddle enters the stable to retrieve a saddle and comments, "You look very proper, Prefect." Both you and Sebek preen at the praise. Then he nods his head and continues on his way. "Well, even a pass from Riddle. I must be all set now." Sebek clears his throat, "There is one last thing."

Then he gestures for you to sit on a hay bale. You comply, and he removes your shoes before walking away while muttering to himself about the size. You swing your feet in a joyful rhythm as you wait for Sebek to return. He does, carrying a pair of shiny riding boots. "Everyone knows that shoes finish the look," he says with a prideful smirk. You hold out one foot, and then the other, as Sebek helps you slide on the boots.

You look at yourself, mesmerized by your transformation. "Oh, thank you," you shyly say to the stern fae. He smiles in pride. "Now go and enjoy your ride. He's waiting for you." You follow his gaze and see Silver has returned to the stable yard, riding one horse and leading another for you.

You beam up at him and start jogging to join him. At the door, you pause and turn back to Sebek, "Don't worry, I'll be back by midnight." You laugh merrily at Sebek's confusion and set off to where the princely Silver waits. It was shaping up to be an afternoon like a dream, courtesy of your surprising fairy godfather.

#club visits #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #sekek zigvolt #twst silver

30 notes · View notes

sainamoonshine · 1 year

Text

Okay so I’m still trying to figure out the timeline of Wake’s ghost haunting Gideon’s sword

So I’ve puzzled out from context clues that Gideon started training at the tender age of eight, from the following passages:

- She says to Harrow that she has “she has ten years of sword training and a minor allergy to face paint” when they’re picking her a cavalier weapon

- She says at the beginning of GtN, when telling us the story of how she came to be on the Ninth, that they “knew by the time she was eight that she wasn’t nun material”

- When she is talking to Isaac and Jeannemary when they investigate the facility, the narration mentions that she’s wanted to join the cohort since the age of eight

So, with all this in mind, I think we can definitely pinpoint when she started training with swords in general, even if we don’t know when she got that one in particular. Tbh I think it’s a bit wild to give an eight years old a two-hander that Harrow at eighteen can’t even lift, but whatever

But what do we know about the movements and location of her mother’s skeleton? At first I thought that Gideon must have been in regular proximity to it, given that we know that she had the habit of sitting next to her mother’s niche and talk to her.

BUT! In the early pages of GtN, it says that she went down to her mom’s niche in the catacombs to say goodbye, more as a symbolic gesture than anything else given that she “hadn’t been there since Gideon was little and would never go back in it now.”

Gideon visited that niche until at least her early teens; she qualifies the things she used to say to her mom as “real fourteen years old bullshit”. Fourteen isn’t really “since she was little”, imo. Did Gideon visit her mother’s empty niche? Did she talk “to” her mother there even though she wasn’t even actually there at all?

Because we know that when she WAS “like, six years old” (her words), Gideon actually used to hang out with the skeletons in the snow leek fields and try to guess which one was her mom. Aiglamene broke it to her when she was seven that her mom’s skeleton hadn’t been put to work yet, and she was only boiled (ew) and made into a construct when Gideon was eight. (We learn this in chapter 51 of HtN).

So I believe it is reasonable to assume that Gideon didn’t know where her mother’s body was before she was seven-ish, and then at eight the body is turned into a construct and is therefore taken out of the catacomb niche permanently. That leaves baby Gideon maybe a year to visit the [occupied] niche, and then she keeps visiting an [empty] one until at least fourteen years of age.

Which gives us a relatively short period of time for Wake to make the jump into Gideon’s sword! Almost immediately as soon as she gets it, in fact. It is not unreasonable to believe that Gideon might have gone to show her mother her new toy as soon as possible. If Wake saw an opening and made the jump that early, it would also explain why Harrow always felt like the sword hated her.

I also wonder why Wake wasn’t turned into a construct a lot earlier than that? I mean, eight years is a long time, even if they were hanging on to her body in case someone came to claim it. (Doubtful anyway; we know the Ninth has a concept of scavenger rights to found bones.) But maybe something was preventing them from turning her into a construct, like for example an angry ghost hanging on to the bones that suddenly left those bones when Gideon was eight. Just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #the locked tomb theory #the locked tomb speculation #the locked tomb

30 notes · View notes

sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 years

Text

She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair - chapter two

a Stephen Strange x Female Reader romance

summary: It’s an historic day for Stephen Strange, and those that know him best. His wedding day. It must’ve taken a very special woman to capture the heart of this Master of the Mystic Arts–let’s see if the day turns out as romantic as his fiancee is hoping for. And if this once very confirmed bachelor finds the sort of happiness he’d never dared to dream could someday be his. characters: Stephen Strange, Female Reader/Y/N, Wong, Cloak of Levitation, Christine Palmer, various family members, more to follow in future chapters genre: pure, unadulterated romance rating: general…for now 😉 word count: 3.8k

author's note: a portion of this may be familiar as I previously posted it as a sneak peeks called first date, first kisses

…It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you. Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you, oh

I'll go get a ring, let the choir bells sing like, ooh So what ya wanna do? Let's just run, girl. If we wake up and you wanna break up, that's cool No, I won't blame you, it was fun, girl

Don't say no, no, no, no, no Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah And we'll go, go, go, go, go If you're ready, like I'm ready…

Y/N had popped into the shower before any of your family were awake, to bask in this last short span of privacy before the festivities began, vaguely daydreaming about how this special day would be. Picturing the look on Stephen’s face when you finally took your place at the far end of the aisle from him. And how his voice would surely go low, for your ears alone, when he recited his vows. Early on in the planning, he had suggested that you both write your own vows—and knowing the eloquence he was capable of, you were certain his words would imprint themselves forever upon your heart.

Closing your eyes, Y/N leaned back your head to allow the soft pulsation of the hot water to sluice away the shampoo in your hair. This was the most luxurious shower you’d ever experienced; dual showerheads with twelve different stream settings and a built-in waterproof Sirius radio and Bose speaker combination, which you’d set to a station playing soft, romantic ballads. All in all, the most perfect way for you to start your wedding day.

For the most part, your thoughts this morning remained on envisioning the day ahead and running through you memorized vows. But they wandered as well, in reflection of the unlikely love story that had played out for you the past two years—and upon the magnificent man who had swept your heart away like a beautiful whirlwind. With the sort of magic that felt, even now, like it had been your destiny all along, to be his. Forever, starting today.

No other man in your previous experience had awoken within you such an immediate attraction. The handful of seconds that had passed as Christine introduced you and Stephen to one another had felt like they advanced in slow motion, and you’d been acutely aware that your heartrate had sped apace, while you wondered if either of them could hear it pound that hard. He was simply the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on in person, stretching back to well before the return of all those lost in The Blip.

Of course, you had seen him before. On the nightly news coverage chronicling the spectacular battle that followed hard upon The Return and highlighting the key players that had made that miracle possible. Plus, the occasional, primetime group interviews featuring the Avengers and their cohorts. And in the plethora of newspaper and magazine articles about those heroes—including a rather ridiculous one in People magazine entitled Earth’s Most Eligible Heroes, which you’d been unable to resist investing a couple bucks in once you saw that Stephen Strange’s divinely chiseled face graced the cover.

It had been obvious that he hadn’t posed for the photograph (one of five different covers for that issue), but it had easily showcased his good looks even as a candid shot. A steely look of determination had graced his brow, and combined with his jet black hair and streaks of white at his temples, you had thought he was the most distinguished looking gentleman you’d ever seen. Well, since seeing Laurence Olivier in the old black and white movie version of Rebecca when you were a high school senior. You’d crushed on Olivier’s Maxim de Winter for months after that; not just because he was classically handsome in an adult way that none of the boys you dated could ever hope to be, but because of his air of mystery. And an unspoken sadness that lingered in his eyes and the set of his mouth. Stephen Strange projected that in droves—and the fact that he was an actual, genuine sorcerer made him all the more fascinating.

But thankfully, you had managed to keep your cool and not gape at him like a feckless schoolgirl amid that first meeting. Perhaps it had been the unexpected warmth in his pale blue eyes, allowing you relax enough to not make a fool of yourself. The bright sunlight streaming through the cafeteria skylights had played up that color, although in due course you were lucky enough to learn that Stephen’s eyes could encompass a kaleidoscope of colors worthy of the word magical. Yet Christine had seen what Stephen hadn’t noticed that day, and before she’d rushed back to the ER, she had flashed you a smirk of approval as she left. When you’d eventually informed her that you and Stephen were seeing one another, she would never own up to playing cupid—but a part of you would always believe she had.

And thank heavens she had!

Stephen had called you the very next day, proving himself delightfully different than most other men you’d dated post college graduation. Showing that he was above the sort of coy, ‘will-he-or-won’t-he get in touch with me within the next several days’ games you’d experienced with those men trying to tease your attraction to them, when they really didn’t need to. No. Stephen Strange was a man of forthright confidence and was refreshingly unhesitant about asking for what he wanted. Traits which—when combined with his brilliance, his dry and sometimes self-deprecating wit, and the peeks he allowed you to see of his often camouflaged but ever deep, compassionate heart—were the perfect combination to unlock your own heart.

Your first date was a late lunch that following Friday afternoon—which had stretched well past dinnertime as the two of you had strolled the quaint streets of his home territory, Greenwich Village, chatting about a host of topics and getting to know one another better. He hadn’t been shy about offering you his arm as you ambled together upon the village cobblestones, nor later about laying his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you to a streetside table at an Italian pasticceria on Sullivan Street. The first stars appearing in a clear, indigo sky saw you sharing your desserts and leaning ever closer as the evening wended along. By the time you were done, you could see very clearly how his eyes repeatedly fell to your lips. About as often as you found your focus returning to his own. Marveling at their lush fullness, while wondering how they might taste and how his whiskers might feel if you ever summoned the courage to lean the rest of the way in and kiss him.

“Well, I suppose I ought to call it a night,” you had sighed regretfully, every crumb on either plate consumed, and with you wishing he would protest your idea to end your date. “My shift starts at noon tomorrow, but, um…a girl needs her beauty sleep, right?”

His quirky little smile told you he was willing to take the bait, even before he spoke. “Well then- you must get a good twelve hours a night.”

You had bowed you head shyly—honestly shyly—and then had given him a sidelong look and a little shrug. “That’s very kind of you to suggest, Stephen. But really, no more than the next woman.”

“If you say so,” he had grinned before he took your hand. “But if you’re set on heading home, perhaps you’d allow me to see you to your door?”

You hadn’t expected that, although you wanted very much to have him do so. Still, you had assumed the logistics weren’t quite right as you lived uptown, just a few blocks away from the hospital. “Oh- I’d planned on getting an Uber.”

His expression turned mischievous in a contagious sort of way, so that you found yourself grinning back. “Hmmm- I think I can save you the trouble.” He had dipped his right hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a two-fingered ring. “Trick of the trade,” he explained, slipping it onto his left forefingers. “And since the world now knows that magic is real, it’s no big deal if I use a little to give you a shortcut home.”

You liked how pleased he looked to be able to show a bit of his extraordinary talent to you, and then were amazed as he conjured the sizzling gold ring to life; it opened onto the sidewalk outside Metropolitan General’s main entrance. “I figure we can walk the rest of the way to your place from there. You game, Y/N?”

“Am I ever,” you had exclaimed, taking the hand he extended your way. Once through, the gateway closed behind you both—although Stephen kept your hand in his for the rest of the trip.

You had pointed out the brownstone where you lived, noting that your roommate’s bedroom window was fully lit—which was just as well, as it gave you a good excuse not to invite him up on such short acquaintance. You pointed to the second-floor window, “That’s mine…or, uh…my roommate Ruthie’s.”

He had nodded, getting the message you had meant to convey—and it had seemed to you that his handsome profile as he gazed up at that lit window, was colored with disappointment. You’re not alone in that, Stephen, you had been thinking

But at least you’d have a kiss goodnight, even if it meant initiating it yourself. When he turned to you, you read a similar intent in his mesmerizing eyes, encouraging you to step into him without hesitation. Biting your lip in the sweetest anticipation, so that his lips framed an ‘o’ as he exhaled. Stephen traced his fingertips along your jawline; though entirely innocent, his touch felt intimate enough to make you shiver. “Is this alright,” he had asked, his voice even softer than his touch.

“More than alright,” you had answered, feeling yourself blush at the way he was looking at you, “I’ve kinda been waiting all night for this.”

“Good…very good,” he had rumbled, cupping your jawline in both hands, then pursing his lips into an amused smile. You felt like you might melt if he didn’t kiss you soon. “I might be a little rusty at this…”

Though you had been fairly certain what he meant, you still asked breathlessly, “Rusty at what?”

He looked slightly abashed. “Did I say that out loud?”

You couldn’t quite tell if he was teasing you or if he truly meant it, so that you only nodded, wide-eyed.

“Might be a little rusty at this…” he admitted, the warmth of his hands on your skin soothing and enticing at the same time. “It’s been several years since I last kissed a woman.”

You laughed softly, reassuring him, “I don’t think you should worry about that, Stephen. I think…I think it’s a thing that comes naturally, even after a long time. Kinda like…”

“…like riding a bike,” he finished with you, so that you shared a laugh.

“Well,” he concluded, lowering his face so that his lips were only a whisper from yours, “I haven’t ridden a bike in years, either. But this…sharing this moment with you? Makes me feel like I’m about seventeen again—and discovering that the girl I like, really likes me too.”

You had parted you lips to tell him that you really, really liked him, but the chance to say it never came—for he brushed his lips to yours and you began to melt in the best of ways. Melt at the way his plump, lower lip nudged at yours, urging you to allow him to deepen the kiss. Melt at the flavor he imparted into your mouth; fading almond and chocolate from the tart he’d eaten, along with traces of coffee from the dark roast decaf he’d imbibed. Melt with delight when he touched the tip of his tongue to yours, while you found yourself wishing he could invade all your senses this way. When the kiss finally dissolved, you felt him smile against your lips. “How’d I do,” he husked, although you were sure he already knew.

Your eyes remained closed as you savored the taste he’d left behind, until you opened them to answer. “Not rusty in the least.” You laid both palms against his chest, momentarily dazed by the firm wall of muscles beneath your hands and aching to be kissed again. And Stephen had gladly obliged.

You hummed to yourself while the water washed you clean and ready for your momentous day, enrapt in that first of countless, golden memories which you had fashioned together. A second date and a third had soon followed, and it felt exactly like he was sweeping you off your feet. Each time you parted for the night, it got harder and harder to leave off with just doorstep kisses.

While Stephen never pushed for more than you willingly gave, you knew in your bones how much he had grown to want you—mirrored in how much you wanted him too. But then, per force, you would go for days and days at a time with no word from him, and you had to be patient and understanding because of the nature of his work. In quick fashion, those separations made both of you even more eager for one another when you finally got time together again. So that well before the month was through, you’d broken your steadfast rule (if a man wants you, make him wait long enough to prove it’s for more than sex), and spent the night with him. In the magnificent sanctuary of the Sanctum where he reigned as Master and Guardian. Though your romance was fledgling, you felt its potential in every quiet glance you shared. Every kiss and every touch. And in how often you found yourselves on the exact same wavelength, without uttering a word.

Shaking off your reverie, you tucked your face beneath the water one last time before shutting off both showerheads, grateful for the oversized, fluffy towel to wrap around yourself. The air was rich with steam and the long mirror over the marble double sinks was coated in condensation. You swiped one hand across its surface, clearing enough space to catch your face, and studying the look in your own eyes. You saw the deep calm of a woman happily secure in the love of her man…the unwavering confidence that all the choices you had made in your life had led you unerringly to this moment…and the unqualified belief that the future you had planned with your fiancée would be yours so long as you remained true to the love he had kindled in your heart.

Still slightly pink-skinned from the hot water and swathed in the thick, white robe which the hotel provided its guests, with your face scrubbed clean and your wet hair piled atop your head and secured by a strong claw clip, you made your way to the main room of the suite. You found that your parents and sisters had already tucked into breakfast, but they greeted you good morning with an exited air, motioning for you to join them. “I don’t think I could eat a thing right now,” you demurred, heading to the breakfast cart to pour yourself some orange juice. “Maybe some juice, and perhaps a cup of tea in a little while.

“Nonsense,” your mother objected, rising from her seat to escort you to the table, “Katie ordered up your favorites, and you need to fortify yourself for the day ahead of us.”

You sighed hard, capitulating by taking a seat, while the sister in question moved to place the two remaining covered dishes from the cart before you. She lifted off the lids to reveal a lavish repast: a hearty serving of Eggs Benedict and two thick slices of powdered French Toast, as well as a mixed berry and vanilla yogurt parfait. “Don’t you dare turn your nose up at these, Y/N,” Katie insisted, “Every bride needs a good breakfast to give her the strength to dazzle her groom when she walks down the aisle.”

Of course, you couldn’t argue that point, but you sighed heavily when you accepted the fork she offered, rolling your eyes at her hyperbole before dutifully digging in. Besides, you knew that both of your sisters would gang up on you otherwise. “I hope you know this is way too much,” you groused light-heartedly around a forkful of French toast, “And I don’t plan on giving myself indigestion. Or to put any additional strain on the bodice of my dress.”

Small talk among your family had continued while you ate; giggles from your sisters followed, once they asked for details of the honeymoon planned. Stephen had somehow—well, not really somehow, for you knew that more than a little magic was involved—managed to find a perfect oceanside cabana on a spotless beach in Fiji and had promised that it was fully stocked for your needs. Meaning there would be no need for either of you to interact with anyone but each other. Sounded like perfection, although you had wondered aloud how on earth he could afford it; the surprising grandness of his private quarters were courtesy of his position, and the opulence of other areas of the Sanctum a result of the building’s long and storied history. Stephen had only smiled smugly when he answered that question. “Sweetheart, that’s for me to know and you to find out when the time comes.” How you had learned to love his inspired surprises!

You were just swallowing the last of your orange juice when a heavy knock fell upon the door. Your sister Jenny took to her feet at once, “Let me get that.” She cracked open the door and a low-voiced conversation ensued, before she returned bearing a package wrapped in plain brown craft paper. “I bet it’s from Stephen,” she suggested in a happy sing-song tone, handing it to you.

Though you and he had agreed to not make a big deal about giving each other wedding gifts, you were quietly thrilled that he hadn’t stuck to that stricture. You hadn’t quite either, but you were happy that he beat you to it. Beneath the wrapping was a simple white box, curiously heavy for its size. That was no indication of its value of course—but you hoped for his sake that Stephen hadn’t given in to an unnecessary extravagance.

The Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj were not monks, nor were they expected to live a life of poverty. Personal wealth and possessions were never discouraged—although the use of magic to gain these things was frowned upon, for it could lead to corruption, and any spell worked for purely selfish reasons was prone to be tainted and could result in unintended, ill consequences. Not only for the Sorcerer who worked it, but for those within the web of such a spell’s effect. That being said, the Mystic Fraternity had accumulated enough of worldly value over the millennia to be financially self-sustaining, and initiates of all levels were provided a monthly stipend for personal use, the size of such determined by rank, responsibility, and years of service. And some Sorcerers, like Wong, found interesting ways to supplement their income—though admittedly, he participated in fight club matches as much for the pleasure of it, as for the cash. As a Sanctum Master, Stephen’s was more than enough for his needs, especially as his position was rent and utilities free. He saved more than he spent on himself, which left him a moderate little nest egg.

As you and he were travelling to Fiji via a dimensional gateway--and thus avoiding the high cost of air fare--you hadn’t worried that Stephen might be blowing that little nest egg in a single shot. Now your concern became the question of whether his gift had done that anyway.

But instead of extravagance inside that package, you found a plain cherrywood box, marked only with a brass plate engraved with the date and your and Stephen’s initials entwined.

It was exactingly reminiscent of a cherished music box you had told him about from your childhood, when you had believed--as is the nature of youth--that every girl would find her own Prince Charming one day. Your godparents had given it to you for your 7th birthday, and when you opened it, the figures of Cinderella and her Prince twirled to So This Is Love, from your favorite Disney movie at that time. Opening Stephen's offering, you discovered it played the music from Bruno Mars Marry Me--and that the set of dancing, whirling figures were perfect, miniature copies of Stephen and yourself. Which caused you the first happy tears of the day.

You knew of course that he had enchanted it—but it was truly the thought and effort he had put into its creation that mattered most. You brushed away your tears, too overcome with wonder that you’d won the heart of such an amazing soul, to speak a single word. You closed your eyes, wanting to compose yourself, ignoring for a moment the low, excited chatter of your sisters. And in that moment, you had a flash of foresight—questioning later if that was just your imagination, or if it came from the magic Stephen had endowed the box with--of you, someday showing your girl child this beautiful gift once she became old enough to handle it with care. Your breath hitched several times, and you decided that for the time being you wanted to keep to yourself the beautiful significance of his gift.

A moment more, and you noticed a piece of parchment siting on the bottom of the music box, bearing the words ‘something new’ in Stephen’s script. Beneath it rested a pair of perfect, imitation teardrop pearl earrings. Something new…

“I need my phone…I need my phone,” you whispered at first, and then looked up as your sisters. “Can someone grab my phone? I left it on the nightstand,” you told them, flapping one hand towards the bedroom you had shared with them the night before. “Please,” you asked through your loving, joyful tears, “I need my phone. I need to call him. Now.”

related works: Chapter One and the one-shot, Pet Names

tagging: @annesthaeticc @ben-locked @thelostsmiles @humanbornarchangel @frostandflamesfanfic @strangesunicornsparkleuni @splunge4me2art @ravencatart @khan-stid @frowerssx2 @janora00 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @letterstosherlock @groovy-lady @celestialsmessy1 @bxsotted @accioptterv @lovecleastrange @oliveoilthoughts @my-beel @ohchoices

Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!

#my writing #She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair #doctor strange x female reader #stephen strange x female reader #romance #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #original characters #stephen strange x y/n #doctor strange x y/n #unadulterated romance #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #doctor strange fan fiction #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse

156 notes · View notes

tetsunabouquet · 7 months

Text

Heir To The Lands Chapter 4

First Blood masterpost

The hooves of the Faerie hunters were a slow, steady beat across London, slowly encasing Blackthorn Hall. They had been on Kit's trail for a while, but the many spells warding Dimmet Tarn had made it impossible to truly know where, let alone get close. Now that they were out in the open, it was like a shark smelling blood. The hunters were on their trail, and it wouldn't last long until chaos ensued.

Breakfast hadn't went over that badly, the food gave both Ty and Kit to have things to distract themselves with from one another. Tessa had been asking Dru questions about her school, how the New Academy in Exile was like. She was obviously hoping it had improved from the times James had attended, because of Mina's future attendance. Dru answered her with enthusiasm, she couldn't praise Diana enough and the student body was nice. The fact the Cohort had weeded out the worst apples, actually was an improvement no matter how terrible it sounds. Emma had to surpress herself from chuckling over it. "Sounds logical though, I wouldn't want them at my school either," Kit commented. "You still go to a mundane school, right? I wonder what's that like." Emma said, only being able to think in movie terms. "Still boring, but I do think I'm preferring the British aesthetic." Kit said, and Jules laughed, "The more I'm here, I'm liking it over here too." Emma sighed fondly at him. "Everyone's charmed by the UK." Dru stated, shaking her head. "You'll be too, in no time. Just wait until you see the cute goth boutiques at Camden Market." Okay, Emma was speaking her language. "I'm in."

Jules and Ty stayed behind together, as the Carstairs-Gray family joined Dru and Emma to their trip to Camden Market. The moment Emma had began speaking about the other numerous alternative shop, she mentioned a ravewear shop that had a pretty cool space aesthetic. Mina's eyes started sparkling at the mention, and Emma did think she recalled a few children's items in the store when she had investigated the place. Mina, as a little girl, has various phases where she wanted to be this or that. She currently had a bit of an alien phase. So the family had decided to join the two girls on their shopping trip. Mina giggled, this time Kit was carrying her on his shoulders. Dru noted he really was becoming more tall, and handsome. She low-key could see the resemblance between him and Jace more clearly too. They really were family alright. Emma and Jem had struck a conversation in the distance, and Tessa seemed to be taken down some kind of memory lane. Until she suddenly snapped her head up. "Everyone, grab your weapons," Tessa said, whipping her head in one direction. Kit could feel it too, "Something is coming! Don't let go of me Mina!" Emma grabbed the seraph blade from her belt, and Dru took her throwing dagger out of her boots when she faintly could hear something coming there way, a beat that was growing steadier and steadier. Hooves. They sounded like hooves. Jem visibly paled, he shot a quick look at Tessa, before an energy of storm seemed to light up in the streets. At the edge of the streets, fey rode their horses. The group of Nephilim and warlock, formed a formation to brace themselves. Kit was behind in the formation, partially due to being the First Heir and partially due to little Mina on his shoulders. Tessa dived as a arrow was shot her way, firing a spell as response. Jem moved, and with a swift motion, pulled his cane from the umbrella, the plastic fabric falling on the floor with the metal pins sticking out like a big spider was trapped beneath the bright blue plastic. Kit noticed the group of Faerie hunters had a similar formation they did, as one hunter seemed to stay behind the rest, barely fighting at all. Dru had managed to throw a dagger straight into one of the hunters' his throat, green blood rushing down as his corpse slid on the ground, trampled by his horse. Yet the feeling of triumph was short lived, as the hunter behind the group moved so fast, nobody saw it coming. They only noticed it by the time Emma crumbled down, a thin Faerie knife portruding from her chest.

#twp #the wicked powers #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #emma carstairs #dru blackthorn #jules blackthorn #tessa gray #jem carstairs #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #mina carstairs

8 notes · View notes

driftward · 1 year

Text

Title: Theoretical Debate Night Characters: Professor Zoissette Vauban, Professor Y'shtola Rhul, Bartholomew Summary: Two professors alike in dignity, Debating with such ferocity, One wonders what causes such adversity, Bringing strife to our university? Notes: Year of the OTP University AU

Bartholomew gestured to his cohort.

They were students. Students at the Studium in Sharlayan, the greatest center of knowledge of all of Etheirys, and they were gathering to answer a very important question.

Exactly how much did Professor Vauban and Professor Y’shtola hate each other, and why.

Bartholomew creeped up to the edge of one of the lecture rooms. Behind him were two other students, and on the other side of the door, two more. He’d managed to convince them to come and listen to the heated argument that he was certain was about to erupt. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes, the two professors would seize a lecture hall and, well.

He leaned in to listen, occassionally peeking around the edge of the doorway, and his co-conspirators did likewise.

Professor Vauban was the taller of the two. A very tall Elezen, built like a pillar, with short ears, and brown hair. She was drawing aetheric diagrams on the board, along with some arcanist geometries, and other equations Bartholomew didn’t recognize. Standing nearby was Professor Y’shtola, a Miqo’te with silvery hair. They were both wearing long coats appropriate to the Stadium, but while Professor Vauban’s was the typical blue of a visiting professor, Professor Y’shtola’s was a custom black one of some sort.

He wasn’t sure why she’d been allowed the exception, and frankly, he was too afraid to ask.

“Alright, so we agree on the basics of the additive model of aetheric energy as described in the First,” Professor Vauban was saying.

“Naturally.”

“And of course we also agree on the conversion formulations, as well as the different states of activity, and how each element has a natural tendency as to where it wishes to stabilise in its energetic continuum.”

“Well documented natural data. On these matters there is no disagreement.”

“But on the origins of aether…”

“I believe I have made my position clear that the idea of an ‘origin’ for something as fundamental to existence as aether seems unlikely.”

“Okay, but what you are proposing is an unstable circle that gives rise to aetheric flows, with each state dependent on the priors, but no state serving as the originator.”

“That is correct.”

“But that would mean that basically everything is built on no foundation.”

“You still hold that your axiomatic model is the accurate one, then?”

“Well, yes. From a few base axioms and their fundamentals, I believe we can build upward and outward the entire ecosystem of aether as we understand it.”

“And what are those axioms based upon, I wonder? What more fundamental energies or concepts exist beneath them to hold them afloat?”

“Well, none that have been discovered or hypothesized yet. That - that is what makes them axiomatic.”

“I propose that we perhaps have the same model from different perspectives-“

“-do not start with lens theory with me-“

“-and that your axioms are not as fundamental as you may believe. What supports them? Themselves? You’ve simply made a flat loop, from which naught can be explained.”

“And I am proposing no such thing, you are simply trying to force my theory to conform to yours.”

“No force is required. I merely believe that an axiom alone cannot stand, and so propose that while my theory posits a horizontal self-sustaining circle of aetheric flow, yours does not speak to flow but rather to construction. But a loop forms nevertheless, with the supports of the axioms coming from what you consider the upper reaches of complexity of your theory, and then, returning to simplicity, grow outward again. A vertical hierarchical view.”

“Okay see but the problem with -that- view is that you are proposing that simplicity arises from complexity, which means that you are saying in an energetic enough system we might be able to achieve a static one?”

“Precisely.”

“Absurd.”

“What is absurd is your seeming unwillingness to entertain the concept of such a system.”

“No, what is absurd is the model that you have proposed. Your so-called horizontal loop at least boasts the strength of internal consistency, even if the reach of its predictive ability is … questionable-“

“I beg your pardon.”

“-while this vertical one you are attempting to shoehorn into my axiomatic theory predicts a reality in which a sufficiently powerful chaotic energy would give rise to order.”

Bartholomew snuck a glance while trying to appear he had not snuck a glance. And he saw that Professor Y’shtola’s ears were starting to swivel back. He quickly backed away again.

“Do not think yourself so readily able to escape your little side comment. Questionable predictive ability?”

“Your horizontal closed loop model has a known problem with overemphasizing divinational concepts while being unable to properly model events that occur by random permutation.”

Was it just him, or was Professor Vauban losing that lilt to her voice?

“And I suppose that you are so proud that your theory works so well within the common model, while ignoring the questions your very own experiences raise regarding its ability to handle closed timelines?”

“I do not need a closed loop to model those completely. That is well within the scope of the upper branches of the axiomatic theory.”

Her voice had seemingly gone cold for a moment. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, as she continued on.

“…though it does admittedly require the use of undecidability.”

“How unlike you, to concede to the undecidability theorem so quick. I thought it a coward’s way out, and a lack of willingness to explore a potential mystery.”

“Oh, are we on to personal attacks now?”

Ah, Professor Vauban’s voice had definitely gone cold now. He snuck a peak just in time to see her posture stiffen as she stood up rather straighter than she had been.

“The basis of undecidability is rooted in logic and arises from it, not despite it. There are simply some truths within a framework that cannot be reached from its roots.”

“Not by your axiomatic theory perhaps.”

“Oh well perhaps we can just nip on down to Alexander, wake it up for a moment and ask it a few questions. You experience one closed loop and decide to over model it to everything.”

“As if you are any better. After we are done with our field trip to Alexander, perhaps I might propose we go and visit Omega? I am certain that its experiences will shed much light on your insistence in a reality with such a poor basis as to need to be fixated on a few simple axioms that are easy to digest, rather than any harder truths that may be able to be found in more complex frameworks.”

“Are you saying that I am only arguing for the axiomatic framework because I can not handle a more complex system?”

“I am uncertain. Were you perhaps implying that I am enraptured so entirely by my personal experience that my theories are perhaps unmerited?”

Bartholomew looked and was entranced by what he saw. The two women had come to a standstill. Professor Y’shtola had grown increasingly, and obviously, agitated as the ‘discussion’ - and he was certain that it had left that definition some good minutes earlier - had become heated. Her ears were back, and her tail twitched dangerously, and now she had her arms crossed, and he was glad her expression was not pointed at him.

Opposite her stood Professor Vauban, who stood tall and regal, shoulders back, hands folded behind her. Where Professor Y’shtola was barely constrained fiery rage, Professor Vauban was an anger that ran as cold as ice. Her frown was small, but her expression was glacial, and he was also glad to not be facing her. In between the two, he imagined a plume of steam, where the glacier met the volcano.

In the distance, a bell began to ring, and Bartholomew almost jumped out of his skin, lost as he was in the scene before him. Almost immediately the two professors shifted. Professor Vauban looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slow. He saw her shoulders slump as she shook out her arms. Professor Y’shtola closed her eyes, and faced the floor, letting out a long, slow breath, and she began to smooth down the front of her long coat. Her tail went from dangerously swaying to a more relaxed swishing back and forth, and her ears pulled forward once more. By the time the twelfth and final bell had sounded and faded from earshot, the two professors seemed to have completely abandoned their previous ardor.

Professor Vauban smiled at Professor Y’shtola. Bartholomew frowned, as it seemed to be a genuine smile, with warmth, as she rested a hand on her hip, her posture fully relaxed. Professor Y’shtola leaned against the desk, and he thought he saw a small, subtle smile playing on her face.

“Well,” said Professor Y’shtola. “I believe the arrangements for our lunch today were in your hands.”

Bartholomew was suddenly sharply aware that he had stuck his head out rather too far, and so, for that matter, had his compatriots.

“Quick, before either of them -see- us” he hissed at the others, as he quickly made a hand gesture to all of them, and they scattered. He himself scampered to find a nearby support column to attempt to lean nonchalantly against. A place where he could watch to see what the two professors could possibly be up to. And just as important, a place where he could continue to sneak glances while he eavesdropped on their conversation.

Professor Vauban looked up at the ceiling as though lost for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin. “Arrangements? Is today special somehow?”

Professor Y’shtola chuckled, and crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Even on this day, your nature never changes.”

Professor Vauban’s face fair glowed. “Of course I have handled lunch. I made special arrangements with one of the ship captains who headed out to the new world. He claims to have found a new kind of fish that is -very- delicious. It has been delivered to the Last Stand along with some preparation instructions from Nyx. Failing that, well, the backup plan is fruit tarts and tea. A sweet lunch instead of a savory one, and there is always dinner tonight.”

“I suppose we are still beholden to Urianger’s plans?” asked Y’shtola.

“I am afraid so.”

“And neither of us have any idea what, exactly, he is up to.”

Professor Vauban sighed. “He insisted on the surprise, even though he knows you mislike such things.”

“Yes, well. I suppose we must indulge them every once in a while.”

Professor Vauban shrugged at that.

“Well then. We have no further business here for the time being. Shall we?”

“You go on ahead. I have to take care of something here, but I will catch up.”

Bartholomew took a sharp breath in, and he looked out and away from the lecture room. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Professor Y’shtola strode out of the room, her head high, but her posture relaxed. If she saw him or knew he or any of the other students had been out there, she gave no indication, and he sighed in relief as he watched her go.

One down, one to go.

Scant moments later Professor Vauban strode out into the hallway. He watched once more out of the corner of his eye as she crossed her arms, and watched as Professor Y’shtola left.

He caught a glimpse of her face, as he tried to surreptitiously sneak a glance, and he was surprised to see a different sort of smile on her face. Softer than he thought he’d seen before.

He shook his head and pointedly looked elsewhere.

And then he heard as her footsteps headed towards him.

He froze, but did not face her. Maybe she was going elsewhere, maybe she would walk right by him.

“Master Bartholomew, is it?”

Well, hells.

He turned to her, and was glad she was an Elezen and he was a Roegadyn; he had a good head of height on her. Despite that, he felt himself backing up as she approached him, both hands clasped behind her back, and a huge grin on her face. Almost manic. And her eyes, well. Her eyes.

It was the biggest grin he thought he had ever seen on anyone’s face, and if smiles had brightness to them, hers would’ve blinded him.

She continued to walk towards him, and he found himself backed up against the selfsame column he had been leaning against. Unable to go any further, he just stood there feeling helpless as she got entirely too close to comfort. And then, a bit closer. Despite the differences in height, her face was uncomfortably close to his.

“P-Professor Vauban?” He said, weakly.

“She knows all five of you were out here eavesdropping, you know,” said Professor Vauban in a voice that was as sweet as the smell of honey on a spring breeze.

And then she turned away from him suddenly, and was striding away from him, hands still clasped behind her back, humming a merry tune.

He collapsed to the ground, realizing he was very aware of his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around, but none of his friends could be seen.

“Oh gods,” he murmured, getting to his feet before practically fleeing down the hallway.

-*-

It was late, after normal hours, when Bartholomew at last worked up the courage to approach the classroom where he thought he could find one of the two professors.

He stuck his head in the classroom to see Y’shtola finishing cleaning up. He walked in, and stopped a few feet away, fidgeting nervously.

Professor Y’shtola looked at him cooly, and he swallowed, remembering to bow.

“Uh, Professor Y’shtola, my name is - I am Bartholomew. And I would like to apologize, not only for myself, but on behalf of my friends, for, uh, eavesdropping on you and Professor Vauban earlier.”

Professor Y’shtola’s ears folded back every so slightly, and he felt his nervousness increase.

“And wheresoever are these friends of yours, that they cannot speak up for themselves?”

“Uh, elsewhere, ma’am. It’s not their - that is to say, it’s my responsibility. It was my idea to, well, spy.”

Y’shtola crossed her arms and shifted her weight, examining him from head to toe. If Professor Vauban had made him feel small, Professor Y’shtola made him feel almost inconsequential.

“While it may not have been a formally scheduled session, it was meant to be open to the public, much as our later classes were. The doors were left open for a reason, after all. Nevertheless, I would know why you felt the need to try your hand at subterfuge.”

Bartholomew turned red. He had looked at the schedule, but had somehow either not looked for or missed that the use of the classroom was indeed for an open session. That almost made sense, though.

And probably nobody showed up because of their respective reputations for such heated debate. It was almost unseemly, but he would not be voicing that opinion just now.

“Well, uh, I didn’t know it was open. But I was curious - we all were, really - about why you and Professor Vauban hate each other so badly.”

“Hate one another? Whatsoever gave you such an outlandish idea?”

Bartholomew was confused. “Well, uhm, the way you two were going at each other was pretty intense. And it’s well known that you two argue a lot, and I’ve read some of the comments in your journal entries.”

“You should read our commentary in earlier works,” said Y’shtola with a small and knowing smile. “Her work on Nymian mathematics is exemplary. And I believe she had no few kind contributions to my own body of research.”

“Oh. Uhm. I’ve only really read your, ah, recent respective theories on aether. Or rather, uhm, your comments on each other’s respective theories on aether. And, uh, well you two sometimes really get into it. Hells, uhm, pardon me, sorry. But, right. Yeah. Just listening earlier, I thought at any moment one of you was going to, well, channel enough aether to wipe the other clean off the floor.”

Y’shtola laughed. “Well, this is a university, it is not? Some ideas must needs be challenged to be properly exercised, and our research in particular borders on the philosophical rather than the material. I think it only natural that the defense of such allows for some passion. After all, despite our words, neither of our theories are any closer to being able to be proven or disproven.”

“…if that’s the case, why do you two get so upset about it?”

“Upset? Hardly. However, it certainly invigorates the mind, does it not? Our debate is a harmless enough exercise, one which invites further argument. I most concede, that her model is better at predicting certain phenomena than mine, while mine has its own strengths and merits in the same. Through such debate, we can cover further weaknesses, and probe for areas of improvement.”

She looked at Bartholomew with a twinkle in her eye. “And also it inspires the curiosity of the student body, even if their inquiries do wind up misguided.”

Bartholomew turned red, and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while Y’shtola laughed at him.

“So you’re telling me then that you don’t hate one another. Instead you’re, what, friendly rivals or something?”

“Or something, indeed. If you must know, then I tell you true. Of all the mysteries I have uncovered and truths I have found, that one which is most precious to me is the truth of her heart,” said Professor Y’shtola. “Professor Vauban is my spouse.”

Bartholomew blinked at her incredulously. Of all the answers he might have gotten this day, that was the most unexpected.

While he was standing their flabbergasted, Professor Vauban walked up to the both of them, smiling broadly at Bartholomew with that slightly unnerving manic grin of hers.

“Oh, you two found one another,” she said brightly.

“Quite so. Bartholomew here has offered his apologies on behalf of himself and his cohort, regarding the earlier eavesdropping incident.”

“Oh, very good,” said Professor Vauban cheerfully.

“I, of course, have accepted on both of our behalfs. Did you know that their curiosity had naught to do with our theories, and everything to do with the nature of our relationship?”

Professor Vauban tapped a finger to her lips, and tilted her head at Bartholomew. “We are married.”

“Yes, I have just informed him as much,” said Y’shtola. “I am wondering if perhaps it is not common knowledge. Certainly, apparently not as common as knowledge of our occasional little debates.”

Zoissette looked chagrined. “Maybe it is because we are not here all that often?”

“Well, I have many and more mysteries to uncover, and you yet heed the siren call of adventuring.”

Zoissette shrugged helplessly. “I like being useful, and it lends itself to field work. Which I enjoy.”

“And we have seen what dangerous matters you get up to when performing lab work on your own instead.”

Zoissette groaned as the two began to head out. “Will I never hear the end of that? Besides, I still think it better than your periodic swims in forbidden streams.”

Y’shtola smirked.

The two continued to banter as they left, leaving Bartholomew behind. He just watched them go, staring, unable to believe that these were the same two personalities he had witnessed earlier.

Clearly, he had much and more to learn about Professors Vauban and Y’shtola.

And just maybe, as he considered their words, maybe from them as well.

#final fantasy xiv #year of the otp #university au #theoretical debate night #y'shtola rhul #zoissette vauban #y'shtola x zoissette #witchshield #biot writes #202204-13

19 notes · View notes