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calcifiedunderland · 9 months

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Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

ft. Overblot Gang x GN Reader

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single leader in possession of power, fortune, and intellect, must be in want of a partner.”

“Pfft-“ you snorted to yourself, flipping through the pages. “What kind of story is this?”

Earlier that day, you and Grim had decided to clear out one of the rooms at Ramshackle. After a brief jump-scare from Crowley (who showed you how to make furniture out of a magic hammer?), the two of you were now on your way to making a ‘Guest Room.’ Finally, gone were the days of your friends groaning about your dusty couch and cobweb-filled living room!

But that also meant that the boxes in the room had to be moved out. Most of them held thread-bare cloth and other dusty knickknacks, but a few held books that looked as though they hadn’t been held in ages. Out of sheer curiosity and boredom (and the fact that Ramshackle had no internet whatsoever), you cracked open one of them and started reading, with Grim snoozing soundly on your lap.

“What are you reading, Prefect?” One of the Ramshackle ghosts wafted to you, resting on the armchair back behind you. You turned the book to read the cover, frowning, “Prejudice and Pride, by Jean August. It’s kind of ridiculous.” You ran a hand over the dusty cover, “I think we had something like this in my world, too.”

The ghost immediately grinned, “I remember this from when I was alive!” He dove in front of you, taking the book and flipping through it at phantom speed. “This was one of our required readings! Ah, you living folk miss out on the classics,” he sighed wistfully. “Here, this was the best part!”

You took the book and read through it. It seemed to be a love confession, where the main male lead was telling the female lead how much he ‘ardently admired and loved her’ and failed miserably.

“Wow, that’s cringe,” you winced, skimming the page. “And also unrealistic. I mean, who falls in love with someone they hate? And who starts a love confession with ‘you suck, but I love you anyway I guess’? Why the hell would they think that would even work?!” You and the ghost laughed, and continued reading together.

~•~

“The Prefect is… interesting, but not enough to tempt me!”

He remembered telling his dorm mates this exact phrase, after bristling at a group of underclassmen gossiping amongst themselves. It was no secret that you and he were close - after several overblots at school, it would’ve been impossible not to be. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. It wasn’t like he laid awake at night, thinking about you right? How ridiculous would that be!

Meanwhile in his room, several hours later, the young dorm leader frowned, feeling restless. It was already close to sunrise, but he wasn’t able to drift off to sleep despite the exhaustions that came with leading an entire dorm. Instead of sleep and his impending responsibilities, his mind drifted.

Over the school year, he’d been able to push down his feelings (Sevens knew it was easy, and his overblot proved it), but now, it was impossible to deny it. This will not do, he thought, huffing irritably and sitting up in bed, absently rubbing his temple.

In vain, he’d struggled. But it couldn’t be denied, and despite his best and fiercest efforts to negate it, his feelings couldn’t be repressed. You’d proven yourself to be an unrelenting figure at Night Raven College - someone who he thought would be insignificant compared to his talent and renown. And yet. And yet.

Somehow you’d wormed your way into his life, to where it hurt to think of you as insignificant. Because how could an extraordinary person like you ever be insignificant? In his pre-overblot days, he was stubborn and yet still too prideful to even consider another way of thinking. But then you came along, and made him question everything, from previous prejudices to his own bittersweet pride.

You, who fell unceremoniously out of a coffin during the sorting ceremony with a little blue fiery cat, and scurried around the school running errands and odd jobs. You, who was once a passing glance, who became one of the things in the school he looked forward to seeing the most. You, with your heart of gold unshaken by the trials and tribulations thrown at you, day after day.

The feeling dawned on him, settling heavily and uncomfortably in their entire being. As the sun began rising, his mind reeled and he closed his eyes, the light bathing his room in a soft, pleasant glow. A warmth enveloped the room, but then a sudden chill ran down his spine. It was then, that he realized it:

He truly and ardently admired and loved you.

Now, he simply had to tell you so.

Now, dear Prefect, take his hand:

The Rose Red Tyrant: R. Rosehearts

The Usurper from the Wilds: L. Kingscholar

The Merchant from the Depths: A. Ashengrotto

The Schemer of the Scalding Sands: J. Viper

The Beautiful Tyrant: V. Schoenheit

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

The Ruler of the Abyss: M. Draconia

———

notes: i really hope this wasn’t too cringe towards the end with the P&P refs but here we go! Seven chapters to plan AH, I can’t believe I twst-ified jane austen 💀

Chapters are coming soon!! A few are in the works!

Thank you to everyone who was interested in this idea!! What started as some brainrot has become bigger brainrot lmao, I fully appreciate it~

Take care shrimpies!!

———

Taglist: @eclecticprincecollector

@ars-tral @cerisescherries, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps,

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you for some reason 😅)

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the-s1lly-corner · 8 months

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Howdy! May I request Caine and Jax with a reader that comes back from abstraction but doesn’t remember anything about them or themselves? I think it would make for some good angst material. Have a good day/night!

Back from the 'Dead' (Caine and Jax x Mended!reader)

i dont know if the fandom has made a term for unabstracted people for fic stuff but i like the way mended sounds anyways YES MORE ANGST!! yipee! gonna probably be flip flopping between answering requests and finishing my art wips tonight so!! listened to this song while writing this, feelings were made jack stauber // just take my wallet

You wake up on the floor, not knowing where you are. Everything before you opened your eyes is a quickly fading blur of darkness, far too fleeting for you to grasp and make sense of. Your body hurts, a dull ache seeping down into your core. As your sight clears, you can't make out where you are... you appear to be on a stage of sorts. You can't bring yourself to move, even after the pain becomes bearable. You feel so tired. Eventually, someone approaches you

CAINE:

youre torn back to reality as a loud chattering voice fill your ears, talking almost a mile a minute. looking up you see a short man with a set of teeth for a head. he keeps repeating something that, after a few seconds of processing, sounds like its meant to be your name

hes also throwing in names of endearment, namely "My Dear"

you cut him off mid sentence after he fails to pause between his words, asking who he was and where you were

in an instant he stopped speaking, jaw hanging open and hand paused mid gesture

he doesnt ask if youre joking, i dont think caine would be in that kind of denial

on one hand, i can see him trying to jog your memory, but on the other hand i cant help but feel that he would accept it. maybe its because he doesnt want to stress you out more when youre already in a murky space, fearing that he would accidentally undo your sudden mending

its so weird for him, you were his first love and first partner; and now hes grieving your loss. except youre still here. you still have your mannerisms, but none of your memories. he truly doesnt know how to go forward

gone, blanked, erased, deleted even

he has to stop himself from calling you the nicknames he once called you

he still tries to foster a new relationship with you, but whether or not you would fall in love with him again is up to you

bonus angst, imagine you do fall in love. just not with him. like can you imagine how much that would hurt

the longing looks, the way he would attempt to reach out to you only to stop with his arm half-outstretched, the stumbling of words as he tries to stop himself from spilling how much he loved you

even if you ever abstract again, or you somehow leave the digital world, he would still go on to love you just the same. in fact, i dont think he would ever move on from the heartache

theres a visible change in demeanor in him, too, he seems a little more. fake?

JAX:

he sprints towards you, he doesnt care at all if someone hears his footsteps pounding the ground, just as long as hes there to make sure its really you. and sure enough, it is

similar to caine hes asking you how you managed to come back, not even noticing youre confused and uncomfortable face as he placed his gloved hands on your shoulder firmly and pulled you up

similar to caine as well, you have to cut him off in order to get him to stop talking, having to assert your voice firmly in order to get him to back off

you ask him who he is, where you are, and what he meant by 'coming back'

denial

this man would be in denial i think

like deep down he knows theres something going on with you, but he doesnt want to acknowledge it

hes not really outright romantic with you, since he doesnt want to actually. screw his chance to reconnect with you up, you know. i mean he can kind of see it from your perspective, you just wake up and some guy is already trying to make out with you? yeah no, he would be put off too

i think jax would have more luck trying to rekindle something with you simply because unlike caine, he doesnt carry the same fear of you abstracting again

i think, as an added thing to think about it jax's feelings of hurt and grief coming to a head and he kind of. unintentionally snaps at you, telling you to stop messing around and drop the act

overall sad stuff

constantly trying to get your attention through being a nuisance, kind of like when you guys first met and he started catching feelings

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x you #caine x reader #caine imagine #jax x you #jax x reader #jax imagine

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poisonsage808 · 1 year

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♡ Indirect ‘I love you’s ♡

w/ podrick payne, tyrion lannister, sandor clegane (should i do more?)

♡ Podrick ♡

• Podrick is absolutely enamored by you so his heart, lungs mind- everything simply stops when you tell him you love him

• The words are stuck in his throat and, bless his kind heart, he apologizes for it! He thinks he falls for you even harder when you smile and kiss him softly, “Don’t be sorry, I only wanted you to know.”

• Brienne thought you would be a distraction but was proved wrong. Pod’s never been late to training and works harder in the yard, especially when he catches you watching as you pass by. Words may fail him but he can make sure that his sword won’t

• She and Tyrion can attest to it, Pod has always done his damnedest to protect the ones he cares for, he wants you to see that you’re no exception to that

• Said people from above also notice Podrick starts humming when doing tasks or strolling from one place to another

• Tyrion watches his old squire bid him goodnight after only an hour of drinking, faintly hearing that same tune fading down the hall. One doesn’t need to have the mind of a Lannister to see a fool in love, and this fool somehow proudly sings for all to hear

• His voice is wonderful. He knows it too that damn smirk on his face tells you so, “Podrick Payne, what are you doing?” You ask with a cheek hurting grin as he takes your hands into his

• He continues to serenading you, swaying you in small, slow circles. Pod enjoys how the tables have turned, now it’s you who’s as red as a tomato. Redder when his hand slides to your back as he dips you, kissing you passionately

♡ Tyrion ♡

• You’ll never want for anything if you’re his, he’ll do everything in his power to make certain of that

• Howeverrr if what you want is to hear the words then you’ll need to be patient. There’s been two people in this world that've both shown and told him he’s loved, his brother and his first wife. He’s just not ready but don’t they say that actions speak louder anyways?

• Tyrion doesn’t just throw money at situations regarding you, he’s very meticulous in his gifts and he listens to you as much as he speaks

• Your shoes are worn? Here’s five new pairs, take any or all of them. You liked that wine you had months ago that you can’t remember the name of? He’ll have it served with supper tonight. You offhandedly mentioned wishing you could play the lyre? A tutor will be present shortly and Tyrion wants a private performance as soon as possible

• Tyrion’s a busy man and any spare moment he gives to you but sometimes the hour is already so late you’re fighting sleep just to spend more time him

• He’s also a smart man that’s good with his words, he has a soothing voice that suddenly turns smug and your eyes open to glare at him

• “I know what you’re doing,” You say, struggling to hide a yawn. “I would hope so, I only do this every night. How else am I supposed to get you to rest?”

• A compromise is found, Tyrion lays with you in bed and tells you stories until you pass out with your arms around him, trapping him there with you until morning

♡ Sandor ♡

• Tell him you love him and Sandor softly replies with, “I know,” pressing a kiss to your crown

• The words scare him. Not as fiercely as fire but he sees them, sees you, as a weakness nonetheless

• Saying them outloud puts a target on your back and not only for the people around him, if the gods hear he’s acknowledged the words and decided to take you away from him— No. Sandor couldn’t live with that.

• Protection has always been the most natural way for him to show you that you hold his heart

• “I’d kill for you, y’know that?” He starts saying after you tell him you love him, or “I’d die for you,” while cupping your face in both his hands, he needs you to know he means it

• It doesn’t bother him one bit to know blood was spilt by his hand as long as you’re safe at the end of each day

• A less obvious way is when he feeds you— sometimes literally, Sandor will make sure you’ve eaten one way or another. Don’t tell him you’re not hungry, he’ll say, “Didn’t ask if you were hungry, open your mouth.”

• He’ll also let you pick off his own plate and grab you seconds without asking. Don’t worry about wasting, if you’re truly full then Sandor will finish off the rest

♡ requests open! ♡

#poiboidrabbles #x reader #game of thrones imagine #sandor clegane x reader #tyrion imagines #tyrion lannister x reader #podrick imagine #podrick payne x reader #sandor clegane imagine

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treethankyou · 1 year

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greendale seven supporting a friend on their period!

this came to me while i was suffering so i had to turn that pain into this! this is not meant to be gender specific but it is specific to those of us who have periods. also i’m sorry for not including Pierce but i honestly just couldn’t be bothered to write for him 🤷‍♀️ i apologize for my poor grammar, writing has never been my strong suit. well anyways, i hope this is alright and ya enjoy!

pairing: gn (period having) reader & greendale 7

warnings: mentions of periods, poor grammar (sorry i have no excuse!)

word count: a lot (~1600)

—————

Jeff

now don’t get me wrong Jeff is a mature, grown man

…who is also a bit of a weenie LMAO

upon finding out you’re on your period he’s a little uncomfortable but represses any visual tell of that fact

regardless of the fact that he has a similar mindset about periods to that of a teenage boy, he still cares…discreetly

he’s got a reputation to protect here!

he makes sure to go easy on you when it’s clear you’re not feeling well

lowkey scolds anyone who doesn’t get the memo

suggests to get froyo so you’re able to get some sugar to make ya feel better

he knows that light exercise helps with cramping and him being the health nut he is he offers to go on walks with you

never acknowledges that he does any of this to help you feel better but it’s more obvious than he thinks it is

aloof big brother x100

“Hey Jeff…” you say after taking a bite of froyo. “I just wanted to say thank you for taking me here for…thinking of me. It means a lot.”

He spares you a small smile across the table. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just wanted froyo.” You know him well enough to know that’s not the truth but you also know that if you say something about he will feel embarrassed and deny it. So you say nothing, making a mental note to discreetly pay back the favor sometime.

Britta

she is totally big on no period shame

never makes you feel weird about being on your period, in fact she encourages you to talk plainly about it

you know, defeat the stigma!

has loose pain pills in her purse she’ll offer you when the pain gets bad

may accidentally offer you a…recreational pill LMAO

has tampons only sorry to the pad supremacists

if anyone is going too rough on you when you’re feeling crappy she absolutely will step in and tell them to lay off

keeps a travel heating pad in her car and has lend it to you on multiple occasions

she’s overall a great friend and never fails to prove it <3

“Oh sweetie…” Britta starts as she looks at your slumped over figure, head parked face down on the table. “My everything hurts.” You mumble against the wood.

Without another word Britta turns on her heel to grab her portable heating pad. Soon she returns and hands you the heating pad, patting your head as you sit back up. “You’re the best Britta.” You gratefully smile up at her, leaning your weight into her side. She smiles and squeezes you in a side hug. “Anytime buddy, anytime.”

Abed

remember in season 2 when it’s revealed that Abed charted the girls’ periods?

…yeah me too.

sorry babes but you’re also totally on that chart

this man carries both pads and chocolate in his bag (designated pockets for each!) just in case any of his lady friends and period having pals need either

there was a point in time where he was curious about what periods were like and absolutely researched the hell out of the topic

is now a certified period expert

because of that he doesn’t use euphemisms to refer to periods, absolutely uses the medical terms

invites you over for movie night in which y’all watch all your faves and sappy comfort movies

Tears slip down your face as “A Simple Life” plays in the background, Carl and Ellies life together flashing on the screen. Abed silently observes you from his position on the couch, handing you a box of tissues as soon as he notices the tears.

You nod gratefully, taking the box in your hands and wiping away the remaining tears. “Abed?” you ask. He looks back to you quizzically, waiting for you to continue. “You really don’t have to do this, I know only watching my favorite movies is a bit boring so…Thank you.” He comfortingly pats your knee before saying, “”You and me, we are in a club now”. We’re friends and if that means being here with you, I’ll do it anytime.” Let’s just say you cried a little more at that.

Shirley

quite coy when it comes to talking about periods not too big a deal though

but when she sees you’re suffering—

mother hen mode: activated

asking all of the questions to see how you’re doing

see Shirley knows you’re grown and can handle yourself but that doesn’t stop her from paying a little more attention to you when you’re on your period

bakes all the chocolate goods

and they are amazing you honestly could cry

has pain killers and tampons in case of emergency

she is actually so sweet to you (which is nothing new but it’s more noticeable during this time)

if the symptoms are really intense she absolutely prays for you (lowkey worried that you are being tormented by the devil LMAO)

This week has been booty and today sealed the deal. The abdominal pain has been astronomical and you honestly felt like you were going to keel over at any moment.

Sluggishly you made your way out of the library, getting barely a few steps out the door before you heard Shirley call out to you. “Hey Shirley what’s u—“ before you could finish your sentence you’re cut off by Shirley shoving a box in your hands. A box full of brownies, cookies, and chocolate covered strawberries. You look back up to her face shocked and touched beyond belief.

“I noticed this week has been tough for you and I wanted to remind you that someone’s in your corner. I hope this helps you feel better sweetie.” She smiles sweetly and you can’t help but tear up. Thanking her profusely you give her a tight hug before making your way home, excited to devour your delicious gift.

Annie

absolutely made a code word to notify each other when either of you get your period

it’s something absolutely ridiculous like “i’m hungry for blueberry muffins”

very much embarrassed when talking about periods, hushed whispers and euphemisms out the wazoo

carries literally everything that one could need for a period emergency

pain killers, portable heating pad, pads and tampons of every kind

if you ever need any of the aforementioned items she will literally sprint across campus to get them to you if need be

low key treats you like the younger sibling she never got (being the youngest in her family and in the study group she is trilled) it only intensifies when you’re on your period

“Ok so! I have ibuprofen, tylenol, advil, tums—“ you cut her off with a small laugh and shake of your head. “Annie I’m fine! It’s barely a headache. Worst comes to worst I’ll just sit in a dark and quite room for a while.”

As soon as the words left your mouth another sharp pain shoots through your head, you visibly cringe at the sensation. She eyes you nervously, clearly still concerned about your well-being. “Ok dark room, I can do that!” She exclaimed, the volume causing you to wince a little. She quickly hops up out of her seat and shuts off the lights to the study room. She then shrugs off her sweater and folds it into a small pillow, placing it on the table in front of you. “You should sleep for a bit, use this. Don’t worry I won’t let anyone disturb you.”

Before you can protest she runs out of the room and closes the doors. You smile and shake your head at her antics, reminding yourself to thank her later. You silently take her advice, falling into a nice sleep in the silence of the study room guarded by your beloved neurotic chosen sister.

Troy

we all know this man is a himbo

clueless to the max

all he knows is that periods suck and cause a lot of pain and bleeding (that’s actually so scary to him LMAO)

after finding this out Britta gives him the run down with Abed chiming in now and then…he’s mortified LOL

has totally used Abeds chart before

knowing about when it occurs, he is a total sweetheart when you’re on your period

compliments you more (albeit a bit clumsily) to make sure you feel good about yourself during this time

carries an extra water bottle around to make sure you are hydrated to avoid headaches

You’re making popcorn in the kitchen for the movie night you’re spending with Abed, Annie, and Troy when negativity creeps up on you. You feel like crap, physically and mentally. You’re irritable, sad, and tired all at the same time and this shift in behavior does not go unnoticed. You had been snippy all day due to how terrible you felt and you even snapped at your friends. And now you felt worse with the guilt of that encounter eating at you.

As you ruminate on those thoughts you feel a presence behind you. You don’t get the chance to turn around before you feel arms wrap around you, pulling you into a hug. You look to the hands of who is holding you and realize it’s Troy, though you could have guessed that based on the action alone. You relax, leaning your weight into his front and letting his warmth wash over you. His presence alone sweeps away the cloud of negativity previously plaguing you.

After a while he releases his hold on you and moves to deal with the popcorn, shooting you a caring smile as he does so. Before he can exit the kitchen you place a hand on his shoulder and whisper a small thank you. “That’s what friends are for. Besides, I like hugs.” He grins and you can’t help but return it. You follow him back to the tv room, settling down to continue your marathon surrounded by your loved ones.

#community nbc #community #jeff winger #britta perry #abed nadir #shirley bennett #annie edison #troy barnes #community x reader #forgive my grammar #first post #can you tell i’m in love with troy barnes

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year

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All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2

Oh hello there! I'm finally done with the second part, the last few day i constantly fell asleep while rereading and editing, so there will bee errors. For sure. Happy reading! Also I have no idea where I'm going with this so bear with me.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood-injuries-torture, weapons, Graves being annoying. I guess spoiler for MW2, absolutely inaccurate plotline, it's impossible for Graves to be with us in this fic, but here we are 😁

Summary: Ghost gathered the whole team for a rescue mission that's the most important job he's ever done. A mission he can't fail.

Weapons. Check. Flash and frag. Check. Knives. Check. Rage. Check. Bloodthirst. Double check.

"Lieutenant!....Ghost?" Johnny's thick annoying Scottish accent seeps into his thoughts. When Simon looks at him he seeing the usual determination laced with a mouthful of concern. "What's the plan?"

Simon steals a glance at the nearby table, the blueprint of a makeshift mercenary base taunting him with it's lines, providing endless possibilities of a place to hold you hostage. If you are even behind those walls. He has no plan, at least a sane one. His plan is to march in there killing every man he's up against until he finds you.

He's a soldier damnit, he should communicate, but he has nothing to say. He can't fucking lead this mission, if he does, it'll fail miserably, and they'll all die while doing so.

Simon looks at Price, his face hiding behind the smoke of his cigar. A silent plead, the one Price never witnessed before. Not from Simon anyway.

Simon needs to give the lead away, to someone else, someone who he can rely on. He would trust Price with his own life, so yours is in perfect hands. His only goal is to reach you, and he can't do that while making sure everyone is in their place, following orders.

Price gestures for everyone to gather around him when Gaz finally steps in the room, completing 141 with all members. Except you.

Price shifts his eyes around the table, acknowledging all the eyes locked at him before starting the briefing. "This is our only lead, i don't have to emphasize how important this operation is. Approximately 67 hours have passed since the kidnapping, we get proof of life every 24 hours, that means we get a new update in 5 hours. In that time period our move is to infiltrate the building, find her, and exfil. This has to be done in complete stealth, in and out. With our last member."

Simon zones out, his mind flowing with Price's words. He can't think about anything but what horrible things you might go through at the moment. He remembers too well of his own terrors of captivity, the mere idea of the same brutality happening to you twisting his insides. He feels psychically sick, the required food and liquid that gives him energy turns upside down in his stomach.

He sees blood red, injuries, tears and dirt, body in agony, spirit broken constantly behind his lids when he closes his eyes. The faint breath when the camera was close enough to your bruised face.

Gaz is asking about Laswell, Soap is demanding action and in that moment Simon can't find comfort even in Price's confident voice.

He's gonna go insane.

In this line of work, this isn't knew. Held captive, being a prisoner of war, torture, interrogation. He's gone through all of them and more, and he's fucking frightened that it's happening to you as he stands there amongts his friends and brothers. Free, feeling the soothing heaviness of his weapon, gear strapped around his body, full with adrenalin in a healty and unharmed vessel. At this moment, you don't have any of that. And he knows how much you must hate it. He has seen you going through that while healing from that nasty chest wound months back.

That faithful bullet near your heart was everything for him. A breaking point, the end of the world, an invisible force pushing him towards you. That bullet made him sit beside your hospital bed, saying silent prayers to whatever higher power that can help you breath life back into you. That bullet made him confess his feelings, openly, withouts distractions and detours. He said you mean everything to him, and he was happy that you lived to hear him say those words. He never ever will regret anything he said, more like regretting not saying more.

He needs air. He needs to get it together before he lunges into a possible suicide mission. He leaves the room without a second look, or a word to his teammates.

Breath Simon, just fucking breath, the mantra repeating itself in his brain.

The air is fresh, but it's stained with the scent of iron. He feels the smell of blood in his nose non-stop, he's certain it's just him, just his head taunting, laughing. You couldn't simply protect her, you swore to keep her safe, and how that turned out? At this point, he can't trust his own mind, everything in his head is altered from agony and wrath.

Mind switching from shame of feeling bad for himself to the guilt of his part in this shitshow. In one moment he's gnawing himself for ever letting his guard down, letting himself to be comfortable enough to be able to be found by Graves, in the other his whole head is filled with your shallow breath in that video. He's eating his own mind up, running in circles, consuming his good parts, leaving nothing but a white skull behind. A ghost with nothing and everything to lose.

"Do you remember that day?" You scoff. It's ridiculous to have this conversation with Graves. So light, so casual. Everything feels surreal.

You aren't tied to a chair, your limbs are free to move, in fact, you could simply run for fucking freedom. But you know better, the room is already crowded with Graves's men, the hallway was full of them, to be honest you saw at least 20-30 men since the blindfold was lifted from your face. And after mentally noting your minor but painful injuries, you are certain you have no chance to just run for if, most likely that's why you aren't restrained in the first place.

"i was occupied with a bullet in my chest you know." You can't help but sound bitter.

He smiles, a smile you saw millions of times back in the day, when you considered him a partner, an important person in your life. This body is just the vessel that is familiar, the man you knew is gone for a long time now. You aren't hurt anymore, you passed that months ago, but you see on his face he's not done with whatever he harboured from your shared past.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot." Fucking piece of shit.

"So what now Graves? You are hurt 'cuz the blast did not kill you at the end, and you have to live looking like fucking Quasimodo? What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

You are fed up. Fuming. What's his point? Revenge? Maybe, he was never the vengeance kind of guy. Soldier's aren't like that. But he's not a soldier anymore, is he?

"When I stepped on your front porch, I knew I'll find someone inside. Someone who isn't Riley. Fuck, i was prepared for any other 141 member despite i deemed Riley way smarter than that. But shit, finding you snuggled up in his bed." He smiles with venom, enjoying and hating his words at the same time. "When did that happen Darling?"

"Urghhhh. Holy shit Graves, that's what you really care about?" You bury your face in your hands, not feeling the need to watch his every move. He is still cocky and arrogant. You giggle with a wince when you graze a deep cut on your jawline. "Shit, are you jealous?"

His face breaks into a grimace. He stands up from his spot, after hours of not moving from the chair in front of you, talking your ear off with threats and pointless words. He stops in front of you, so close it sends a chill down on your back. His breaths fans over your ear when bends down next to your face. "Don't worry, he seen everything that happened to you." He suddenly halts in his words, for a dramatic pause, or something else you don't know, but it's way more unnerving than anything he has done so far. "In fact, he's already here to save your ass. Let's find out how prepared he is."

No way. It does sound possible and completely impossible altogether. If Simon is here, he's here for you, bit he might not be prepared for a trap they lured him in. And he will be march through the door with Soap on his side, undoubtedly. And if they do, this asshole will have everything he wants in one place.

Graves backs away, eyeing you up and down, looking at his work proudly, eyes glinting with anticipation.What can you possibly do to help Ghost and stay alive while doing so?

"Oh I know that look. Don't think too much darling, your head will hurt. You can't do shit." You feel dizzy, head throbbing, pain raging inside your skull. You feel more and more disoriented. You lose focus for a moment, and that's enough to lose him from your sight. The next thing you know, you almost fall over with the chair, Graves's arms the only support you have, his body pressed harshly against you without shame, invading your senses with his presence. You hear his voice close, too close.

"Everything you feel now is just the start. Get yourself comfortable on this chair, memorize every tiny detail of this room, count the steps you hear outside of the door." He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your scalp in an attempt to get your full attention on him in between you losing and regaining consciousness. "I'll wait for your precious lieutenant to make an appearance, so I can lead him to this very same chair your pretty ass is sitting on, show him the wood drenched with your blood before I serve your head on a golden plate."

He lets you fall back in place, only your lucky landing of your legs keeping you upright on the chair. Your body is exhausted, battling with the pain and adrenaline. You are going to pass out at some point, and you are oh so fucked if you do.

"When he arrives, he'll bring your precious team, right to my front door. Every one you is going to die here. You'll be the first one."

"What do you think will happen if you kill me Philip? Hm?" He stops midway to the door, his back stiff, muscles twitching underneath the vest. The burn scars apparent on the back of his neck, probably snaking down to his torso. "Are you even capable to murder me Phil?"

He stays rooted, just standing there, waiting for you to go on. Or to be silent. His next move is depending on what you are about to say, how far you are willing to go. "I have known you for years. I worked, lived with you, i watched you take down enemies from distances that no one ever thought about doing. You trying to make me believe you couldn't do the same from a neighboring building with clear sight? Aimed at chest when you had a perfectly fine vision on my head? I bet you didn't relized i don't have a vest on, am i right? You can't feed me this bullshit Philip. I know you too much to believe it."

Maybe his men believes this tale, hell he might forced this truth on himself too, but you are no fool. And his quick steps out of the room proves you hit the nail on the head.

Taglist: @galagcica @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @afro-hispwriter @cabreezer0117 @5seastar @v-v-x-x @multitargaryen

#simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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alicenttully · 1 month

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how are you feeling about the upcoming season 2? are you looking forward to it? i always think of that post you made saying that whenever i miss the show i'm really just missing alicent. i'd like to enjoy the show and i'd like to see more of alicent, but i can't feel much more than dread because i don't have any faith that they will treat alicent in a fair way. i really appreciate having mutuals like you who see how impressionable the audience is against alicent and how much more forgiveness the narrative has for its men than its women (esp green women)

hmm yes and no 😭😅

i'm invested in alicent. because despite the writers' approach, the intentional/unintentional, i failed to hate alicent, or even feel sorry for her in the the way some sanctimonious viewers do, full of cold and distant pity which enables no real empathy or understanding. i became invested in alicent, and i loved her.

but at the same time - no. she's not the only reason, but she is a big one. i dread the way they're going to approach her in s2 because it's a good chance its not going to be fair, or at least they're not going to be fair if rhaenyra or team black looks bad in the process.

like one of the reasons i'm not looking forward to it is because of alicent deciding to crown aegon because it was "viserys' wishes". because of this i know there are people hoping that later when rhaenyra holds the capital she'll tell alicent that he meant something else entirely different. and the cynic in me would be like why would anyone believe that anyway? honestly it would look like rhaenyra attempting some form of legitimacy. but by then why should alicent care? so viserys believed in a prophecy. so did his descendant rhaegar targaryen and he ruined so many lives just like viserys, including a 14-16 year old girl while he was at it!

just because they believed in prophecies doesn't mean they were right or interpreted it correctly. doesnt give them the right to play with other people's lives like that.

another reason why i dislike it is that the change took away a lot of the complexities that came with the green coup. i don't have a problem acknowledging the sexism that plays a factor. but alicent is also someone who long before she was forced to accept the realities of her children supported rhaenyra's claim and who told rhaenys targaryen she should have been queen. maybe one can say she was just trying to soften rhaenys and maybe that was partly influencing her but at the same time honestly she didn't HAVE to say it. like she could have just told rhaenys the cold facts of the situation and left it at that.

but there are people in this universe who don't think a woman should rule even if she is the undeniable rightful heir and will go for a male option even if his claim is so weak it's a joke. like the male cousins who tried to contest jeyne arryn's rule for example even though she was her father's only surviving child. alicent isn't like that. but she also isn't going to ignore her son's rights which is just catelyn stark coded aka most medieval noble women. the thing about book alicent for example when people call her ambitious is that alicent wasn't really asking for anything more? the expectation for most noble women outside of dorne (and even in dorne there are still some houses where sons inherit before daughters)!) is that their firstborn sons will inherit their father's lands/castles. i remember reading a while ago someone on here saying alicent should have been content with her children being princes/princesses because if she married into another house they wouldn't be royal. and that irked me (not the person who said it) because i would take this take more seriously if viserys organised strong matches for them. but of course he didn't because of a) targaryen blood purity and b) subconsciously to prevent alicent building a cause but in that case maybe viserys shouldn't have bloody remarried! it's that simple. but then again this is the same man who didn't see the holes in the jace-helaena betrothal so who knows.

so yes ultimately alicent did "usurp" rhaenyra partly because of sexist notions (sons v daughters) but at the same time rhaenyra's inheritance exists on the whims of a man! i just can't help but think rhaenyra might have been more interesting in a story where she decided to challenge aegon's claim simply because she was older and wanted to be queen, maybe arguing that just as aegon the conqueror took the realm with dragons she can take the iron throne because she has more than the green faction/her brother.

and going back to alicent she defies the wishes of said man for her children! viserys is/was her husband so she should obey his will but instead she will crown aegon anyway and defy her husband's wishes. people lose out on that because they're too busy being pissed about rhaenyra.

these writers don't deserve alicent

#alicent hightower #house of the dragon #asks

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luck-mode · 8 months

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I'm still in season 5 and I don't remember any of Wilson's family stuff other than his brother being mentioned, but I feel like he was probably emotionally neglected as a kid. It just makes sense to me (and also I was emotionally neglected and see a lot of potential signs shhhh)

House mentions constantly how badly Wilson wants to feel needed, all of his ex-wives mention him going out of his way to do what makes them happy i.e. anticipates wants/needs of others and always always puts those before his own. It's classic emotional neglect behavior, right down to the inevitable anger and resentment towards the other person. It's completely misplaced but if you aren't aware of the drive behind the behavior (for him it could be he feels that's just what love is or simply "I love them and don't want them to leave me") there's no reason to stop and question whether it was them who put expectations on you or whether it was you setting a precedent that feels inescapable.

Then there's the Big Important Job! There's definitely healthy outlets to that feeling of wanting to be needed or feel important among a group buuuut idk. To me it feels more like a safe way to get emotional connections and feel less bad at failing relationships. You get to open up to someone, help them through an extremely vulnerable and scary ordeal they're totally dependent on you for, and then they die? Ensuring no chance of rejection? That's way too convenient for him, that's *perfect*.

I don't think he really knows what he wants other than Don't Directly Acknowledge complicated or negative emotions at me. He seems down for that kind of talk until it involves himself, which tracks from how emotionally stunted both he and House are. They're both so bad at recognizing how they feel about things that they have to rely on the other person having a gotcha moment about it

Anyways I didn't mean to type this many words maybe this makes sense

#house md #hilson #dr james wilson

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inherstars · 13 days

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The Last of Us | The Hourglass (2 of 4)

MLEH. In case it's not obvious, this takes place in the game story universe. TBH, in my head, they all do. Previous section here.

They each raged at the world in their own ways.

Maria was usually the yeller. She didn’t like it, but being a woman in a man’s world -- even a world as small as the one they were left with -- required volume. It demanded that you had a voice, and that your voice be loud and unwavering.

It helped that Tommy was so much easier of nature. Straight-forward, even-keeled, charmingly Southern gentleman when he needed to be, but also just a more mild-mannered human being than his wiry spitfire of a wife.

Until Joel came back into the picture, in fact, Maria couldn’t remember ever seeing him getting truly up in arms about anything.

But now…

“We’ve gotten lucky so far, is what I’m saying,” he roiled, trying to keep the horses as a swift but easy gait after their initial headlong rush out of Jackson. They couldn’t afford to have the animals collapse in exhaustion when there were still so many miles to go. “And it’s gonna run out, eventually.”

Maria nodded along, uncharacteristic in her silence. She looked at him occasionally, meeting his eyes when she saw his head turning toward her from the far corner of her vision. He didn’t need much encouragement to keep going; after an almost silent ride to the midway point, the best of the sunset views now long gone, Tommy seemed spontaneously gripped with agitation.

“We’ve had two come through Jackson already,” he said. “Three, if you count that nurse practitioner. Why won’t they stay? It’s not like we’re not already offering them a fucking paradise compared to what’s out there. They’re crazy if they think they’re gonna find a QZ that’s still up and running, let alone one that won’t work them to death.”

She’d heard all this before. She’d taken part in this same venting exchange more times than she could count. But she didn’t have it in her tonight.

Tommy went on vehemently, “Something's going to give, eventually, and -- hard as I try -- I am out of ideas when it comes to how to fix this problem. We can only get by for so long with a hand ful of first aid manuals and those shitty medical training DVDs they dug up in Laramie. At this point I’ll settle for a veterinarian. A first year med student. A pre-med dropout. Chrissakes, some hippie chick who used to run a fucking herbal shop. Something.”

It hadn’t escaped him that Maria was less a participant to the conversation than usual, his sideways glances become more frequent, and her acknowledgements less engaged.

More to the heart of his upset, he said, “Time is running out, you know? How long before one of those toothaches develops into an abscess? And how long do Trina and Beverly have left, anyway? Trina's due in November. Bev, like a month after?" He looked at her sidelong, wishing she'd say something. Gripe at him to be quiet so she can think. Anything.

More deliberately he added,, "... at least you've got a good bit longer than them."

Maria’s eyes lifted from the back of her horse’s head, finally focusing on something, though it wasn’t her husband.

After a long minute she said, "Tommy, we… we don’t have to rush anymore."

"Course we do,” he defended. “It's..."

Her words connected, his whole manner changing, locking up. The sudden tightness of his fists on the reins drew the animal to an unintended stop.

Maria kept walking, hoping he would catch up again, but when the other set of hoofbeats failed to materialize behind her, she reined in and half-circled to face him.

They didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have the strength.

"Tommy. Can we please?”

He was broken. Shattered little pieces in the shape of a man on horseback. Jesus, what was it with the Miller boys and those eyes?

“What do you mean ‘anymore’?”

“Come on,” she begged, throat tight. “Please.”

His head lowered, eyes scouring the earth to either side of him. With monumental effort he spurred his horse forward, falling back alongside her as they heeled them to as swift a gait as they dared.

“How, uh… how long? I mean… when did it--”

"About three days ago. I wasn't sure at first, but... well, then it was pretty obvious."

Tommy’s voice clenched with emotion.

"Maria..."

"Tommy, I--"

"I'm so sorry. Baby, I... I wish there was something--"

"I know,” she sighed, unable to look at him. If she looked, she was going to fall apart, and they didn’t have that luxury. In retrospect, perhaps it was better to have something else to focus on, even if it was just as grim in nature. “Me too."

Softly, "I wish you would have told me."

She hesitated, finally slipping him a little look of apology. In the trenches of grief, it was easy to forget that she wasn’t there alone. They were in this foxhole together, just as cold and afraid, just as illuminated by the shell bursts of tragedy.

"I wish I'd known how,” Maria admitted. “It was right in the goddamned middle of everything else, I barely had time to process it, myself." She breathed out, worn down to the bone. "I'm just... so tired."

Tommy rode a ways in silence before hastening his horse in perfect parallel with her own. He caught her eye.

"Hey,” he said quietly, firmly. “It'll happen."

“Yeah,” she murmured.

“It will.”

Oh, but he meant well. That was the hardest part.

"I know. It's not the happening I'm worried, about it's the... maintaining." She looked at him worriedly. "I just wonder, you know... when do we give up and stop trying?"

Again he fell quiet, though this time not for quite so long.

"I thought the trying was your favorite part."

She wanted to be so exasperated with him. So furious that he would make a joke now, of all times, about this, of all things. Instead she sputtered with an exhausted laugh.

"God, you are fucking insufferable."

"Well, too late for you, now,” he sighed, resigned. “Good luck finding a divorce lawyer these days. We’ll have a better shot with a doctor."

More gently, Tommy added, "Baby, I'm sorry. I really am. I was excited, too. I was... hopeful, too."

She looked at him gently. So in love. Humanity had fallen completely apart, millions of people lost millions of other people, and all the world was heartbreak. But she had him, and she felt so unworthy, and so desperately, achefully grateful.

"I know you were."

He pulled himself together with a little breath. A little focused furrow of his brow. A little stiffening of his spine.

"We'll get our chance."

"I know that, too.” She steeled herself with a good breath, meeting his eyes with as brave a smile as she had heart to muster. “Look, we got other people's chances to worry about right now. Let's get this moving."

Continued here

#tlou #the last of us #Tommy Miller #Maria Miller

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obitv · 1 year

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thanks for 200 followers! have this :3

during the timeskip, william and vyncent decide to go dancing.

read on ao3 here!

You really need to learn to think before you speak. Like, now. Yesterday, even! Any point that was before right fucking now!

Inviting Vyncent to hang out outside the base? Sure, normal. You've been staying in the rubble of the old base for a few weeks now and it's still... unsettling. And you live together, of course hanging out is normal! Trying to experience normal teenage things now that you two have some downtime? Yes, sure! Normal!

Asking Vyncent if he wants to go clubbing? NOT. NORMAL.

He asks you to explain yourself. Of course. Because you really had to put your foot in your mouth there.

"It's, uh- A nightclub? A bunch of people our age go there to... dance? And there's music and drinks? It's- You don't have to go, I was just throwing it out there, ha, mean I've never even gone-"

"Cool. Sounds fun! When do we go?"

Oh, you're so fucked.

You find a nightclub. Or- Less find, more remember - totally not because you'd fantasised about this for days or anything, but because after Harlem brought you to one you went find which club he had been in, and subsequently memorise any other places you could possibly go, if you ever wanted to. Just to avoid him.

The infinitely worse part is when you spend far too long fretting about outfits. You spare a brief thought to wish you could talk to your old friends right now, but you manage to scrounge up something.. nicer than your usual. Tight ripped jeans you pretend you didn't steal from Ashe, indie band tee from some show you went to when you were 14, a worn dark leather jacket. And- Eyeliner. A little. You also pretend you don't remember much from Ashe's rambles about makeup, but that advice stuck with you.

You do not tell Vyncent about the unofficial dress code, and yet he picks up on it anyway. Probably keyed in when you started scrabbling through the rubble to pull that jacket out of what remains of your closet.

"Will? Do I need to.. dress differently?"

You will your voice not to squeak miserably. You fail. "N-o..? You- I'm sure how you usually dress is ok, y'know, they don't REALLY have a dress code? You- you'll be fine. Probably. Uh- Definitely. Totally... fine."

"There's a DRESS CODE?"

Which is how you end up standing next to a shirtless Vyncent Sol with a pile of clothes in front of you. If you had told the you from 6 months ago about this, he probably would've passed out on the spot. You aren't doing much better yourself.

You're trying very hard not to ask why, exactly, Vyncent owns low rise jeans. You're trying in general not to acknowledge that at all, actually, which is thankfully made slightly easier as Vyncent put those on BEFORE coming to ask you what to wear, so you didn't have to give any input on them. It's not like they're excessively tight or anything, just- He's not wearing a shirt. And Vynce may not be packed with muscle like Dakota but he isn't as stick thin as you and- You have eyes, ok!

But you are using those eyes for a much more acceptable task - helping Vyncent pick a shirt. So that he stops being all... That. You've narrowed the pile down to just two options before your brain melts and you tell him that "both- both of those are fine!" while mentally patting yourself on the back for almost making a full sentence after that whole ordeal.

You head outside before you can make a bigger fool of yourself, climbing through the rubble of the entrance and letting the cool evening air refresh your brain while you still can. Winter is quickly settling into the city, and you definitely aren't wearing enough layers to be out right now. You hope the walk can warm you up.

Vyncent comes up next to you right when you start having to fight back shivers. Bastard never even notices the cold, something about being used to higher altitudes. That's... something you should ask more about, probably. Not tonight though. Tonight is not a night for potentially emotional conversations.

Aside from your wandering thoughts, the walk is nice. The chill clears a bit with exercise and good company, and your jitters. Vyncent seems excited, thankfully, even if he's definitely out of his comfort zone. But so are you! Which makes this... maybe count as a bonding experience. If all goes to shit you can share the misery, and if things go well... Well. You can always hope.

You end up in a part of town that's still bustling even this late in the evening. Music and conversations blend together into one, filling the air. There's even colourful lights strung up between the buildings, almost making up for the lack of stars. Vyncent is looking all around at them - and you realise for all you guys went out together before, none of your patrols or explorations had taken him to this part of the city before, at least not after dark. You give yourself a moment to admire him - the lights here probably wash you out, but the faint colours reflect off his eyes and almost make them sparkle.

Before he notices you, you grab his arm and gesture to one of the open doorways nearby. A neon sign reading FERDINAND'S flashes above it, and together you walk over.

The music hits you as soon as you get near the door, a pulsing wave of bass from the speakers, and you spare a moment to turn back to where Vyncent is trailing behind you, still faintly starstruck.

"Hey, Vynce. You- just let me know if you wanna leave, ok? If it sucks we can just go home and watch a movie."

His gaze snaps to you, and he takes a breath. Straightens his posture a bit, like he's preparing to go into a fight, which you try not be amused by. He shakes his arm out of your loose grip and smiles at you. "Yeah, yeah. I still wanna check it out though!"

So in you go.

Clubbing... isn't something you have much experience with. You'd planned to go out, before, but you left Deadwood too early to really go anywhere. And the time with Harlem scared you out of trying to go anywhere while he could be around, so really your experience is limited to, uh. Next to nothing? So sue you for not knowing what to expect.

It's loud, for one. Obviously, but it's not loud in a bad way, just in a way that lets you feel the beat all the way in your bones, in a way that leaves little room for thought other than the beat. It's much warmer in here, though still not as crowded as you'd feared. Come to think of it, you're not sure what day of the week it is? But it's clearly not peak. The bar is crowded, sure, but it's barely two people deep at worst, and there's even free seats.

You hesitate to leave Vyncent, but when you gesture at a booth and then at the bar he seems to get the idea. He heads to get a table, and you go to grab yourself the drink you're definitely going to need to keep your head around here. You don't plan on drinking much, if any more than just one, but a little liquid courage feels like it'd be nice right around now. You order your beer, look back at Vynce, and order a second in case he wants it. You probably should've asked before he left.

You get them quickly though, and weave your way across the floor to reach him. He's still staring at everything, and it almost makes you wonder how the fuck you two had gotten past the bouncer. He takes one of the bottles out of your hands, but scrunches his nose up after sniffing it and puts it down on the table closer to you. That answers that, then.

Overall, it's a nice club. More of a pub on this level than a nightclub, really, but you know there's a proper dance floor around somewhere. The music is good, too, nothing too overplayed, and a fair bit you've never even heard before.

"I thought you said there'd be dancing?"

It's almost hard to hear him over the music, but you have to admit it's true. You brace yourself, throwing back the last of your drink, and stand up.

"C'mon! It's, uh, over this way, I think?" Fucking Vyncent and his elf hearing doesn't have any trouble with hearing you over the noise, getting up and walking with you before you resorted to getting really close for him to hear you.

Whatever. The dance floor is downstairs from the main bar, and- Wow. There's definitely more people down here, but still blessedly not packed. You hadn't considered that- well- There'd be other people here.

Vyncent, though, perks up. He was a pretty good dancer back at the party you won't ever talk about, now that you think about it. It's definitely a similar vibe, just less possessed highschoolers and more drunk college students. He's much less reserved than you, immediately heading to join the dancers while you hang back and watch.

The music is different down here, but still not bad. There's multicoloured lights shining all over the main floor, catching on people's hair, clothes, eyes, and Vyncent is... fucking stunning. He's in a league of his own out there. Going from partner to partner and somehow, he's just as amazing as he is in combat. You had assumed most of his skill had come from the whole possession deal back at the party, but this is actually him choosing. No tangos on this floor, but that doesn't put a dampener on him at all.

There's a break in the music, eventually. Vyncent comes back to where you're lurking, panting but smiling. He's gorgeous. Someone's body glitter has rubbed off on him, somehow, and the cascade of lights makes him glow. You haven't seen him this- happy, since before everyone left.

It's a.. scary thought. You want him to be able to be this happy forever, and in this moment you'd do anything he asked if he kept smiling at you like that. So, of course, when he holds his hand out to you and asks you to dance, you say yes.

Seriously. Think before you say things, Wisp! But Vyncent's hand is warm in yours, and you're just buzzed enough to not feel like hundreds of eyes are pinned to your every move, and the music is shaking your bones with every beat. To be fair, you've wanted this for... far longer than you'd like to admit.

You faintly recognise whatever song is playing. It's fast, and is probably going to be burned into your brain forever, because you are dancing with Vyncent fucking Sol.

[this is where i'll be, so heavenly, so come and dance with me, michael]

He drops your hand once you're properly in the crowd, which is a shame, but he starts dancing and you try to mimic him and others around you. It's easier than you'd thought, to not worry about the other people around you. Whenever you'd pictured something like this, you'd underestimated how it'd feel to really be here, with Vyncent watching you and laughing, seemingly carefree.

You think he's never looked more beautiful than he does right now. You desperately want to tell him, so, so desperately, but instead you let yourself laugh with him, moving closer to the beat. You're moving in an imitation of some formal dance, a back and forth just between yourselves. It's impossible to stop smiling at him now that you've started, and maybe you're happier than you've been in a long time too.

It's- a bit of a blur, after that. There are times where Vyncent reaches a hand out to you and you dance together like that, a raver's waltz. He spins you a few times, and you're breathless with laughter after each one. You step out for a break, and Vyncent goes between various partners - but for once you don't feel that stab of jealousy, because his eyes keep darting back to you and he smiles wider each time. At some point, both of you end up mostly standing still in the middle of it all, giddy with infectious joy, with you leaning against his chest and his hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him then, and your faces are so, so close- in a crowded room, where anyone could bump into you... The temptation to just lean up and kiss him is almost unbearable. You could always brush it off as an accident if you had to - or you'd finally have something you've wanted for months. it's tantalising, having that choice dangled in front of you.

Before you can really do more than begin to lean in, though, Vyncent's eyes flicker away from your face and to the door. You'd almost missed it, because you were definitely paying more attention to his lips than his eyes, and you look away, guilt starting to eat into you.

He says something then, but your hearing's gone to shit right now so he gives up and untangles himself from you. He points at the door, then tilts his head at you in a clear question. We leaving now?

You... can't believe you almost did that. You nod at him, struck dumb by your thoughts. Outside, the sudden lack of noise feels almost like a physical weight being lifted, while the freezing temperature is like a slap in the face. You stumble forward into Vyncent, and he steadies you while you shiver and try calling a cab, because no fucking way are you walking home like this.

Home, ha. You know full well that Vyncent is more your home now than any building could be. Even if you keep almost fucking things up - the thought of not having him there is almost too much to bare.

But, for now, you have him. His arm around your shoulders again, trying to keep you warm while you wait for your cab, and the knowledge that when you wake up in the morning, he'll still be there. Neither of you are going anywhere.

#william wisp #vyncent sol #prime defenders #jrwi pd #jrwi #ghostknife #myfic #primedefenders #hi. smiles :3 thanks for 200. this was written mostly in one go. where all i did was listen to michael by frans ferdinand

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carrotcouple · 2 months

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It had been simple.

Going through the motions, investigating things that Nahida asked him to, picking fights with arrogant scholars, reading as many books in the forbidden section as he wanted to, rejecting invitations to go drinking with Cyno and Kaveh, writing when he felt like it, teaching Collei how to read.

He'd pretty much moved on. And by 'moved on' he meant that he compartmentalized, putting past events into a box and throwing them into a corner of his mind that he never visited.

So he hadn't expected to be hit with reality quite like this.

"Are you alright?" Haypasia asked him.

The thing was that Fujin was in every sense, a fallen God. Had it been the days of the Archon War he might have even taken Nahida's place as Archon of the people of Sumeru, and Celestia itself would have acknowledged him.

And the one person who'd seen his very core and had become his one and only worshipper and follower now stood in front of him and she had no idea who he was. That was the price he paid for erasing himself from history. Not that he would want her to remember him anyways.

There couldn't be any world where she would have wanted to serve a pathetic failure of a God. She'd witnessed his short reign and then watched him fall.

"I'm fine," Fujin crossed his arms. "I don't see how I wouldn't be fine. Did you really think I'd be weak enough to get hurt from someone as small as you knocking into me?"

"Oh dear," she said, scratching the back of her head. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" Fujin laughed. His stomach was twisting into knots. She was important to him. So important to him that he felt it in his non-existent soul. The failed God in him desperately yearned for the devotion of its only devotee.

But he was nothing to her now. Not even a memory. He didn't even exist in a world before now. Not to her at least.

"If you offended me, little girl, I'd have thrown you out a window. Remember to watch where you're going." Fujin turned and started marching away. He couldn't even consider this as her betraying him. By erasing himself from history, he'd been the one to betray her, not the other way around.

"Wait a minute! I'm not-"

"Haypasia? Is that you? Getting confused and lost as usual then? Are you back after having eaten all the drugs the Forest Watchers could pump into your system?" Fujin heard another student call out to Haypasia and he stopped in his tracks.

"How dare you! I research a legitimate field! Also that was incredibly rude to the Forest Watchers! Watch your tongue!" Haypasia cried out.

"Everyone here knows that you and the Forest Watchers are in cahoots to get more fundi-"

Fujin grabbed the student's collar and swung them so they were dangling out of a window.

"How about you try finishing that sentence?" Fujin snarled. "I wonder how long it'll take for you to hit the roots of the Divine Tree of Wisdom? Plenty of time to reflect on the brainlessness of your actions, yes? They call the Akedimiya the center of all knowledge and wisdom in all of Tevyat but all I meet are buffoons who cannot rub two brain cells together but are riding on the esteem of their school. Tell me, how many things have you achieved? Surely you must be one of the top students of the Akedimiya if you are able to wag your tongue so freely?"

"Mercy!" The student cried out, gripping his hand tightly, eyes wide and fear all over their face. Their limbs were flailing, obviously not wanting to die.

"You talk about the Forest Watchers stealing funding they don't need. I should throw you into a Withering Zone and see how you fare. Then you can prove they don't need funding, yes? As long as you manage to get out alive, of course."

Everyone in the hall was staring at him, terrified.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It was rude of me to say-"

"Hat Guy!"

Fujin sighed. That stupid fucking name. He needed to bring this up to Nahida. He turned to see Tirzad, one of the older Vahumana scholars staring at him in scandalized horror.

"Put that student down this instant! This is a sacred institution! You cannot bring your uncouth bullying in-" Tirzad began.

"Well," Fujin said, "I'd like to see you do something about it then."

He was about to go back to threatening the student when he saw Haypasia again. She looked scared. Scared of him.

Ah.

She really didn't know who he was. She didn't know that she had seen everything. But she no longer knew him.

Fujin laughed a little.

He didn't know why he felt such a keen and aching sense of loss. He had known for five hundred years that he was destined to be alone and unloved. That was why everyone had either thrown him away, used him, or left him.

"Nahida will understand," Fujin told Tirzad whose jaw dropped at him using the Archon's name so flippantly and casually and then he let go of the student.

Several people including the student screamed as the student went plummeting towards the lower levels of Sumeru City. Fujin flipped everyone in the hallway off, glanced at Haypasia's face, and then jumped out the window.

He caught the student just before they hit the pavement. Then he gently lowered them to the ground where they collapsed in a heap.

"You should write a book," Fujin grinned. "'How to offend Hat Guy and Survive'. How does that sound?" He patted the student's shoulder and then decided to meander into the Grand Bazaar to maybe find Nilou and watch one of the theater's rehearsals before Nahida found him and scolded him for throwing people out of the windows again.

His mind wandered back to Haypasia.

He wondered if she had enough funding for her research. He had a stupid amount of mora and people were allowed to anonymously donate to students.

He hissed under his breath, trying to squash the failed God that lived in his hollow chest. Haypasia wasn't his anymore.

He crossed his arms and unhappily headed to the Grand Bazaar.

#sunny writes #genshin impact #scaramouche #wanderer #wanderer is called fujin #i wrote this at 3 am instead of sleeping #haypasia #is there a 'the swan princess' reference? yes!#i love scara so much #i personally headcanon that he just #fucks around for fun #he and collei are best friends #nilou teaches him makeup #he defends the theater troupe #and takes care of the forest rangers #scara and haypasia's broken connection makes me #want to cry into the floor #scara was a God for like five seconds there #and it hurts

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k-dokja · 1 year

Text

Summary: You ever… freestyle and it just got all over the place? Set after the Demon King thing… Also, the reader knows YJH from before the whole ordeal.

The back of his hand hovers over the wooden door. Hesitation comes uneasy for him. He hates slowing down and thinking too much about what his actions would mean for those around him. Because when he lets the thought sit too long, it often encompasses him until the paralysis takes over.

Yet, there he stands in front of your door, deliberating. Regret crawls up the back of his neck for even getting this far, to come to you on an instinct instead of contemplating if you would welcome him. He thinks too much and he doesn’t think enough. His mind traps him at a stalemate and the only coherent action he should take is le—

“How long do you plan to stand out there?”

The door snaps open before his decision comes to be. He can see your ire radiating from your eyes alone. Has he been wiser, he would’ve apologized. But he is foolish and if he makes small mistakes then you wouldn’t be disappointed when he makes the big one.

“Hmph,” he provides no explanation and barges into your room. He hears you yelp, but you sidestep fast enough to smack his back when he walks by. It doesn’t sting. Nothing you can do will hurt him. Save for the part of him wounded up tight inside his chest.

You have access to it, you just don’t know yet. It’s strange how you can read him well, yet fail to read him at all. “You bastard—“ you grumble, sliding the door closed behind you “—at least, tell me what you’re here for.”

He steps to the middle of your bedroom. It’s tiny, barely furnished with the essentials. You’ve volunteered to take up one of the smaller one in exchange for privacy. Your bed is the only area which looks lived in. The closet, the small desk, and the chair, all of them have barely been touched by you since everyone settled into their own rooms. He’s in no place for judgment, however. His own one looks vaguely the same, save for his bed which has been sat on.

“I’m leaving.”

He says. When he catches your expression, it is one of apathetic acceptance. He knows not of what to make of it, but he won’t hurry to the conclusion, seeing as you aren’t either.

“Where to?”

You cross your arms. There is a frown on your face unlike the one you threw at him the moment before. You purse your lips, whatever you have in mind awaits his answer.

He weighs the decision and gives you nothing.

“Ha,” you smile wryly, “I see. Best of luck to you wherever you’re heading then. Remember to call when you arrived.”

The last statement is meant to be a jest. He sees it in your body language, forcibly loose and easygoing. He knows how to make it not forced, “I won’t have to,” he says.

His eyes meet yours again. There is a question in your eyes, but you won’t voice it, because the answer comes the moment after.

You sigh, exasperated but not displeased. “Fine, give me a moment to pack,” you huff. “Not that there’s anything to pack, anyway. We barely settled and you’re already leaving.”

“You can stay.”

“Don’t wanna,” your halfhearted retort comes muffled when you dig into the closet and fish out your utility jacket, “you always get to do the fun stuff, anyway, it’s better to stick with you.”

He bristles, “Where I go is dangerous not—”

“Now, there’s a hint,” you flash him a grin, fitting on your equipment, “hunting some secret scenarios or getting some new artifacts?”

He glares at you but keeps his mouth snapped shut. It amuses you and infuriates him.

“No worries,” you chime, “I’ll get it out of you soon.”

“Hmph.”

He turns on his boots and marches out of your room. At least, you have the decency to keep quiet when the door is opened once more. He can feel your smile aiming at his back, but he won’t acknowledge it. You don’t need further leverage to squirm into his heart and take a permanent space.

But you already did and there was no undoing it.

“Stop smiling,” he scowls, no more than a hiss when the two of you stop in the hallway. His arm loops around your waist when his eyes narrow at you, “you look stupid.”

You don’t stop, but your hands loop around his neck with a practiced ease.

Whatever comeback you have coming is muted by the force of his shunpo, but your triumph remains fixed on your face even by the time the two of you stopped. He drops you down a long distance away from the company’s new dwelling, far from the hubbub and the cities.

He turns away from you and begins to walk. Because he knows you want to talk and if he won’t hear it now then you will complain about it later. Better let it unfold now than later.

You catch up with him quickly, and he won’t point out that it is because he has learned to match his pace with yours. For a while, you let the silence simmer and he almost dares to hope that you have let that go. But you’d never and he’s more the fool for entertaining that thought.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t reply.

At least, you find no trouble in leading the conversation alone.

“He’s probably alive, you know,” you march next to him, dust kicked up underfoot, “out there, somewhere.”

“And getting into something stupid,” he says, fists clenched, “we’ll see him again, sooner or later.”

You laugh. It’s light and strange. “See, you’re adapting,” you say, “it’ll be fine in the end, you’ll see the conclusion of this together.”

“And even if we don’t,” he says. But when he opens his mouth, the words die at his throat. He shouldn’t say it to you. Kim Dokja might have accidentally shown him how to find and save you, but the thought of having to utilize that knowledge one day is accursed.

He shouldn’t think that. It won’t come to happen. He has missed you three lifetimes, damned if he will allow that to happen again.

“Hm… what?”

“Nothing.”

His pace increases and he won’t say that he wants to run from this conversation. Because if he did, there are much easier ways. You keep up with him, but he won’t face you.

He can’t see you then you’re not there.

“You know, this reminds me of when we were playing together,” you’re nice enough to change the topic.

Yet, when it should’ve lessened his discomfort, another nail hits the coffin. Nostalgia is a poison in his vein but if it was you then maybe you’d know how to dissipate the toxin. “We run together so often that it feels strange to otherwise. You always charged ahead into every danger we come across, and I always got excited when I saved you from the fray.”

He snorts, “You didn’t save me that often.”

“An average of twice per match,” you tut, “you probably don’t remember because it’s long ago for you, but I can still recall when you pulled so many enemies, I busted my keyboard healing you.”

The corner of his lips twitch. He ignores it. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you got all of the best skills in this entire world and I’m only here as your emotional support.”

“More like…”

“What?”

He turns to you and lets the smirk show, “A minion.”

“Hey!”

You smack at him. He speeds up enough to dodge the strike.

“A squirrel one, at least?”

“Hm.” He muses. “More like a monkey.”

You try to kick at him, but it won’t land properly. Your annoyance is clear on your face yet it is every bit acted. “Ha! See! You remember a lot about the games, don’t pretend you forgot all of my grand achievements again!”

“I can’t remember if there’s scarcely any.”

“Yu Junghyeok, do you want to die?!”

#yu junghyeok #yu junghyeok x reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #fics

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theflyindutchwoman · 2 years

Text

On Lucy's lack of promotion

I've seen some speculation and frustration regarding Lucy's lack of promotion lately so I just wanted to add my 2 cents on the matter.

As of episode 5.09, Lucy is a P2. Per the LAPD guidelines, one becomes eligible for P3 only after 3 years on patrol. A P3 usually remains a patrol officer, but they can also choose to become a patrol training officer (like Nolan did). Once a P3, you can qualify as a detective or a sergeant, but only after your 4th year in patrol. The show has actually respected this so far : in 2.02, Armstrong mentioned that he switched to detective after 4 years on patrol and he was an exception, not the rule... And in the same episode, we found out that Angela decided to become a detective after 7+ years on patrol (if I remember correctly).

If we stick to the timeline, Lucy has been a P2 for less than 2 years : 3.09 we see her promoted to P2. From there we can add 1 month at the beginning of 4.01 (Nolan's 30 days extension is over) + 3 months mentioned at the end of 4.01 + 13 months of P1 Aaron between 4.02 and 5.03) + whatever months between 5.03 and 5.09 (unlikely to be more than 6 though).

So Lucy not being promoted yet is not a problem in itself. Even more reassuring (to me) is the fact that the writers don't forget about her at all. They keep acknowledging in canon how good she is - this season alone, we have references of her future in 5.02, 5.03, 5.06 and 5.07. And so far, her path is really good : she gained so many different experiences (her own UC operation, sergeant's aide, helped the FBI when they didn't have to invite her on the raid, UC school, acting sergeant...). I mean it is a terrific resume. On that note, I absolutely love that we see her trying and thriving on so many different positions, and thus keeping her options open.

And most importantly, it also keeps in line with the other characters' promotion (minus the very obvious one). Tim had to wait around for his sergeant position, even after passing the exam (first mention was in 1.15 and he got promoted in 4.02), Angela had a bit of a fumble but was able to become a detective in a reasonable amount of time (first mention was in 1.01 and we see her as a fully detective in 3.02). Even with Aaron, while they do mention him being a detective, it is still explicitly stated that it will take time (and not because he failed the Angela/Nyla test). If Tim gets promoted to S-II before Lucy becomes a P3 it will be because in his case you don't have a time constraint in his case. So up to this point, it is relatively grounded in reality (for a TV show obviously).

Except for one character. Now in regards to Nolan... that's where it is pure insanity and all the previous rules goes out of the window. In 3.05, we found out that he could qualify for TO exam in 2 years if he has his college degree... Considering he's still in probation... Nope. And, I find dubious it only took a month to finish his college degree. But the best part (and by that I mean infuriating) is that in the end it only took a year later (4.21) for him to be able to take the TO exam... What happened to needed two years? Whatever. Only he can't take the exam because he is sent in a hole so he'll have to wait two extra years (which is basically what should have been the case from the start). But not to worry, he gets a golden ticket, the thing that is allegedly practically impossible to get (it took years of UC work for Nyla in comparison...). So why the rules that applies to everyone in Mid-Wilshire but not him? Well...

Now I could get past that if at least he was having some troubles with his new position (there's a reason why you don't get promoted immediately : lack of experience is one of them). I liked 5.02 for that... but since then, nada. Worse : after being explicitly told that he should not let Celina drive (again there is a reason and it has nothing to do with Celina), he still does it. Again, whatever.

Anyway, back to Lucy. I get the frustration, especially in comparison with Nolan (I could rant all day seriously). But I don't think the writers would mention all these opportunities and not do something about it. My guess is, we'll have a promotion towards the end of season 5/next season. I think we are going to have a deeper conversation about her future in LAPD in 5B. If only because of her burgeoning relationship with Tim and how it is going to impact their careers.

#the rookie #Chenford #lucy chen #The rookie speculation #Character Study #Meta Analysis

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Yussif | Planting A Seed Of Faith | Romantic

Requested: Yes

A mysterious stranger asks you about Jesus and you’re keen on sharing more, only to find out that he is very kind.

In spite of the itchiness of the woollen cloak, Yussif carries on in his disguise. The words he had heard from the Rabbi his peer Shmuel had been investigating still echo inside his mind, followed by a sleepless night and countless questions that keep him puzzled.

He understands the interest of Rabbi Nicodemus and has in turn started to seek out information himself, which is what brings him here, in the streets of Jerusalem. Yussif has tailed Jesus and His followers all the way from Capernaum, which makes him feel kind of bad, but his determination to get to know more drives him to this pursuit and somehow condones it, at least in his own opinion.

A few of Jesus’ followers are currently standing at a market stall, bickering over which kind of meat to choose to go with the stew tonight. Yussif recognises one of them to be Andrew, but the other two do not ring a bell. Slowly, he walks towards them, listening in on their conversation whilst pretending to browse through the wares of the adjacent stall.

“–No, Thomas, how could you possibly think that venison goes well with the spices Little James has just picked?” Andrew brings up, obviously irritated with his friend, who lets out a sound of offence.

“You’re a connoisseur, aren’t you, Andrew?” he sarcastically counters, “It’s not like I’ve been a vintner for years whilst you were out fishing!”

Yussif lets his eyes go over the goods but shows no real interest, instead focused on the three men beside him.

“Hey, that’s low! Plus, that means you know stuff about wine, not that you know stuff about food!”

Thomas scoffs. “It means that I know what goes well with certain types of wine. If you’ve got the young kind of wine, freshly pressed, you’d do well to pair it with—”

Andrew makes a movement with his hand in the air. “Blah-blah-blah. I don’t care, Thomas! Let’s just choose some meat and get out of here!”

“Come on guys,” Little James sighs, finally able to talk over the two arguing men, “All of us are hungry, especially Jesus, so I think we’d do best to just choose something and hit the road.”

Thomas sighs. “Well, we have to wait for (Y/n) anyways.”

It earns an acknowledging hum from the other two.

“What do you think Jesus wanted to tell us?” Yussif’s breath hitches as he tries to listen closely, pretending to be interested in a few selections of condiments the vendor sells, who is looking at him strangely, for he doubts that the Rabbi will buy something from him.

Little James leans on his walking stick and lets out a thoughtful sound. “After that miracle, He just—”

“Are you eavesdropping on my friends?”

An unfamiliar female voice startles Yussif so much that he nearly yelps, and in shock, he turns sharply to the sound. The three Disciples also let their attention go to the owner of that voice – you – as you stand with a hand on your hip and a basket on your arm filled with eggs.

Yussif stutters. “A-Ah, I’m sorry? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “The past few minutes, I’ve been observing your behaviour and noticed you’re moving closer towards them, but you’re showing no interest in buying anything from the market stall. The way you’re skimming through the wares is not that believable.”

The Rabbi’s gaze goes from you to the three followers, back to you. He pulls his hood a little tighter over his head to shield himself as he observes you a little closer. (H/c) hair peeks out from underneath the light drape you wear over it, and your face is quite wonderful to look at. He immediately wonders if you had been with the group for a long time, but he knows that you haven’t. After all, he would have remembered those (e/c) eyes of yours.

“I…” he stutters, all words failing him. “You’re followers of Jesus, right? You, too?” He nods towards you, and you raise your eyebrows in question.

“Are you from the Sanhedrin or something?”

Yussif lets out a shivering breath. “N-No, I’m just… Trying to find out more. Can I… Can I talk to you in a more quiet area?”

“Please step away from the lady, sir.” Andrew pipes up, “She’s with us.”

Your eyes narrow at the man and you raise your hand at Thomas as he attempts to intersect himself between you and the stranger. “Thank you, Thomas, it’s alright. I can talk to this man for a few minutes. I’ll… I’ll be fine, you three go back to camp already.”

“And leave you behind with some random stranger? I don’t think so, (Y/n),” Andrew counters. Yussif clears his throat, averting his gaze lest he be recognised by any of the three followers.

You sigh and then nod. “Fine.” you state, handing the basket of eggs to Thomas, who takes them with a slight huff. “You boys finally decide on what kind of meat to buy. Go for either venison or goose, it really doesn’t matter for this dish. In the meantime, I’ll try and find a spot to talk to you, sir.”

Yussif gratefully curtsies and the three Disciples are briefly in conflict on what to do, but you give them a warning glare. “Come find me in ten minutes. No sooner.”

Andrew huffs, shrugging in some sort of acknowledgement. He isn’t necessarily pleased, but knows that he cannot say no to you. “Fine,” he agrees.

“I’ll see you boys soon. Come on, sir.”

With Yussif right behind you, you walk through the streets until you come across a secluded alleyway, where only a few rats scurry about. You gesture towards it and the pair of you head into it, finding some privacy.

“So, what’s your name?” you want to know, “You’ve heard mine already, so I’m curious to hear what yours is.”

His eyes search your questioning face, wondering if he should reveal his name, but he’s almost certain that none of the Disciples have mentioned him to you, for why would they? “It’s Yussif,” you say, “I’m from… From Capernaum.”

You slowly nod and smile softly. “Well, good to meet you, Yussif. Forgive me for the boys back there, they tend to be a bit paranoid when it comes to matters like this. I am indeed a follower of Jesus. And judging by your face, I think you’re… How to put it… Trustworthy to hear more about it? I mean to say that you don’t strike me as a threatening person, is all.”

A soft sound of amusement leaves your lips and Yussif cannot help but mirror it. The sound makes his gut pleasantly tingle with how light it sounds. He is almost inclined to ask how he has never seen you before, but he knows that he can’t reveal how he knows the other followers already, and that he has observed the group from afar in the wake of the events of the past weeks.

“So, this Jesus. How did you meet Him?” Yussif inquires. The kindness behind his eyes is visible from under his hood and you are drawn to them as well as to the sweet smile that accompanies it.

“Ah, He healed me,” you say, “I had this strange, painful bump in my…” You flush in embarrassment and put a hand on your chest, “This area, and He took it away from me. The least I can do to pay Him back is to join His ministry.”

Yussif catches himself thinking that your abashed character is endearing. Despite the severity of your story, your gentle nature is refreshing.

“I-I’m glad to hear that you’ve been healed.” he states, “I’ve heard of the miracles, hence my curiosity.” You give a small bow of your head and hum. “Do you… Have you been with Him for long?”

“A few weeks now,” you confide, “I’m from Betsaïda.” It explains why Yussif has never seen you before, for he had been a day trip behind constantly, and he gives you a kind grin.

Then, he tilts his head and queries: “You… Happen to know where He is now, right?”

A tad apologetic, you rub your neck. “As a matter-of-fact, I do, but all of us are very exhausted from our trip here, so I don’t think the Rabbi is keen on receiving visitors tonight.”

Yussif slightly shakes his head. “Ah, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries, but I just… I want to know something.” He looks over his shoulder to see if anyone is listening in on you before stepping closer, lowering the volume of his voice. His proximity makes you feel inexplicably bubbly on the inside and you momentarily imagine this stranger joining the group as a follower, which you wouldn’t mind.

“Do you think He is the Messiah we’ve been waiting for?” Yussif whispers.

You stare at him for a long moment, eyes locking with his, and something like a spark seems to ignite whilst you contemplate your response.

“Yes.” you breathe at last, shy at his closeness. “I am certain that He is. The things He does… The miracles, the prophecies… There is no doubt about it.” It is dangerous to say these words out loud, but for some reason, you trust him with it.

Yussif gawks at you for a few seconds, no sound coming out of his mouth. “Right…” he then mutters, “Right. I… I want to speak to Him. Please.”

You bite your bottom lip as he pleadingly looks at you. “Please…” he once again whispers.

For a moment, you look out into the busy street to see if Andrew has shown up yet, but the former fisherman is nowhere to be found. Leaning closer, you whisper: “As long as you promise to not show up before the sun is up tomorrow.”

“You have my word.”

“Okay.” You tell him the place where the camp has been set up, just on the outskirts of town, and Yussif gives you a grateful smile.

“Thank you so much, (Y/n).” he breathes, grinning widely. “I can’t… Can’t wait to see Him and ask the questions that I have. I owe you.”

You give him a sheepish smile and fold your hands in front of you timidly. “Of course.” you say with a small shrug, “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nonsense,” Yussif counters. “You are a very kind woman. Your husband must be very happy with you.”

Your cheeks flush. “I’m not married.”

His heart skips a beat. “You’re not?”

Shaking your head, you open your mouth to speak up that you aren’t betrothed when a certain curly-haired Disciple suddenly pops up around the corner, calling your name.

“There you are! I was already worried sick, and—” His gaze falls upon the Rabbi who is standing with you, his face not covered enough to hide his identity anymore, and Andrew’s jaw falls agape.

“Rabbi Yussif?”

You blink in puzzlement, your gut feeling strange. “You–You know each other?”

Yussif lowers his gaze and steps back. “F-Forgive me, I meant no subterfuge. I’ve… I’ve followed your group and your Rabbi all the way from Capernaum, because I want to know more… Nicodemus’ accounts are… Well, I just need to know more, that’s all.”

Andrew exhales and seems to relax. “Right.” he sighs. “You can see the Rabbi, but not before tomorrow—”

“I know,” Yussif interrupts, “I’ve just spoken to (Y/n) about it. Again, I’m sorry for concealing my true identity from you, (Y/n), I just… Wasn’t familiar with you yet and wasn’t sure if you knew me.”

You can’t fight the small smile playing over your lips. “Andrew seems to trust you, so I think we’re alright, Yussif.”

His face lights up. “Thank you. I, uh… I will no longer outstay my welcome and leave you to your business, you must be starving. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright? Shalom shalom. Have a good evening.”

“Shalom shalom, Yussif. Erev tov.”

Pulling his cloak a little tighter around his head again, Yussif hurries away. Both you and Andrew look after him as he goes, and once he turns the corner, Andrew chuckles.

In surprise, you look at the former fisherman. “Hm? What is it?”

Andrew gives you an amused look and raises his shoulders. “I don’t know, you tell me! You seem to be very charmed by him, that's all.”

With crimson cheeks, you let a scoff escape you. “That was before I knew he was a Rabbi.”

“Well, that doesn’t have to mean anything when it comes to love. A lot of Rabbi’s are married, you know?”

“Love? M-Married? What– Andrew! I’ve only just met the man!”

He laughs heartily, throwing back his head. “Look at you, (Y/n)! I wouldn’t believe your claim to being indifferent for just a second! Come on, let’s go back to camp. I’m sure you’ll need plenty of time to prepare for tomorrow!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “You’re lucky I gave my basket of eggs to Thomas earlier, otherwise I would have broken one right against that thick skull of yours!”

Andrew is unfazed by this threat. “Oh, I would have loved you doing that, for it makes my hair so shiny! But don’t worry, (Y/n). Yussif is one of the… Kinder Rabbi’s, and, if you ask me, he might be very close to becoming a believer…!”

Wiggling his eyebrows, he gives you a wide grin, and you slap him against the arm.

“Stop it.” you hiss, “I can still put eggs into your bedroll!”

Your words do not cease Andrew’s teasing on the way back to camp. Hopefully, he will not reveal anything about this encounter to the others, even though there is truth to his suspicions.

#the chosen x reader #the chosen #the chosen yussif #yussif x reader #reader insert #the chosen fanfiction #chosen fanfiction #angel studios #rabbi yussif x reader

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earl-grey-love · 6 months

Text

Alright, it's info dumping time. If I don't get this out of my head I'll never know peace. Here's a breakdown of how Mephisto and Levi are similar. All of these are things I've observed. The main difference between the two is that Mephisto is generally more confident when talking to strangers, whereas Leviathan is not. Anyway,

They can be triggered to ramble about their special interests and cannot be stopped. Levi with otaku stuff like anime/games/idols/etc, Mephisto with history/knowledge/politics. Proudly delight in having specialist knowledge others don't have.

Fixate on having a close friendship with a singular person. For Levi, it's with Henry (a fictional character) until he then meets MC, who he gives that energy to instead. For Mephisto, it's directed at Diavolo.

Said fixation incites envy towards others. For Levi, it's anyone who is close to MC, including his own brothers (or those he thinks are cooler than him). Mephisto towards Lucifer, who he thinks stole Diavolo from him.

(They also brag about their closeness with their special person if they feel confident enough).

(Also, they fail to acknowledge other people as their friends, even though they clearly are, due to their fixation on their person).

They're both incredibly mean at first. Both act as if they're “better” than MC or others initially. They even both use negative terms to describe others trying to interact with them, i.e. “normies” from Levi and “fallen angels” from Mephisto. Both also use “human” derogatorily.

But surprise! Once they get over their attempts to keep others at a distance, they're incredibly sweet and thoughtful. Both are highly emotionally intelligent and are able to “read the emotional room”, especially with those they fixate on, better than most of the cast. The narrative often has them point out emotional problems/solutions the other characters may have missed.

Unless, of course, those problems are their own emotions. They're easily overwhelmed by them. Often leading to them shutting down and finding alternatives to expressing their negative emotions. Levi, by being avoidant and hiding in his room, and Mephisto by enacting petty revenges. Levi also does petty revenge, and Mephisto is also avoidant. Neither of them are petty or avoidant towards their special person.

Both are also prone to dramatic, overly emotional rants about small things. Levi screaming that he's going to die bcus he missed out on exclusive merch of his fave, and Mephisto pretty much doing the same bcus he saw Lucifer for 0.001 seconds and was forced to remember he exists.

Both of them have associations with animals. Levi with his 3 pets, the 2 Henrys and Lotan. (I'm not sure if Lotan counts, but yk). Mephisto's main hobby is horse riding. He shows MC his horse in the manga, too.

They both adore Luke. They think he is the cutest thing. They love spending time with him for that reason.

They're both also reliable older brothers, with Mephisto especially being adored by his (presumably) kid brother. But Levi is also considered one of the best older bros to go to if a younger has a problem. This ties into their caring personalities. Even if they're prone to complaining as they take care of others.

They're both collectors. Levi with his merch, Mephisto with rare demonus (wine). Both love exclusive items and go absolutely ham on buying it up. Even to the point of excess.

Both try to act nonchalant about things but are easily triggered into sudden emotional outbursts. Especially with people they're not close to. Often gets called annoying because of this.

That's all I can think of right now but I'm pretty sure my point has been made lol

#they're both autistic btw #oh thats not canon but it is my headcanon #hence why its in the tags and not the post #I hope this is legible because Im really sick atm #but I wasn't going to know peace til I posted it #ship: newspaper club #friends: levi up!#sunny speaks

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idk-wha-ahm-doin · 2 years

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How about a birdrick kiss after a night out in alien bars?

Here you go:) Hope this was what you asked for! And sorry if it's a little short.

Also posted on Ao3.

"A-And you know what I said?" Rick drawled with a drunken grin, pausing for more drama. "Mind your own b-bee-siness!"

Birdperson downed his next shot, though he wasn't as gone as his once-best friend. "The queen wasn't offended?" He furrowed his brows, struggling to comprehend the story he'd just been told. "You do realize they aren't normal bees on planet Earth."

"Yeah, yeah." Rick brushed off with an unnecessary slap on the wooden table. His- less inebriated- friend slightly winced at the glare from a few people around. "They-they're sentient and their stings are pure poison, w-whatever man. All I hear is fuckin' baby noises." He spat out, smirking still. "Whah!" He then continued with his best impression of an infant wailing.

"Are you calling me a coward?" The hybrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Rick, please keep your voice down. You will get us kicked out by the rate you are inhaling your shots." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

The man huffed, but fortunately didn't seem to have the energy to argue about it. "Fine. Anyway, yeah. B-barely escaped death 'n all." Another shot. "Uh, another?" He called the Birdman behind the counter, who complied without a word.

"I'd imagined someone would be there to soften the rashness of your actions." Birdperson pursed his lips. "Now that we are not there to stop you."

"If you mean Morty, he's my p-partner in crime." Rick grinned, head unsteady even though he was sitting. "I do this dumb shit with him. Well, when he-he's not bein' a bitch." He loosely shrugged.

The other hummed almost absently. "Good for him."

His silence must've been odd, because Rick stopped in his tracks as well. "Y-you alright, B-Bird- BP?" Unfocused eyes concentrating on him. "I'm doin' almost all the talking."

"Oh, uh, yes." Blinked the bird-human hybrid. "Merely worried about my daughter. We left her alone at the nest if you remember." That wasn't quite what occupied his mind. But with their brittle relationship at the moment, perhaps it'd be best not to speak of it.

"Ugh, that megabitch-spawn?" Every time he made a reference to his daughter and former wife, Birdperson was more encouraged to keep his thoughts to himself. The drunken one still cringed, aware of his mistake. "Shit, I-I mean sorry- I'm-"

"That is, alright I suppose." He cut him off, tone slightly sharp. "I have come to the conclusion that this is just the way you speak. It is still more polite than hiding the fact that I had a daughter to begin with before it suited what you wanted."

The hidden tension felt between them was leaking into view, and it was a frustrating type of relief to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What he didn't expect was for the other to avert his eyes in shame. "Jeez, I- I guess I should be sober for this." Sheepishly rubbing the back of his flushed neck.

"For what?" Birdperson narrowed his eyes, resisting the unreasonable urge to stare at it, which he failed at. "Is there perhaps another surprise you have for me?"

"Fucking Christ- no!" Rick Sanchez harshly shook his head know, face twisting in a scowl. "I'm an asshole, but not that much. I-I've been meaning to apologize." He stressed.

The knots in his brows unravelled to some cautious degree. "Apologize?" He echoed, having a tone of disbelief to it.

When they were quiet, the rest of the bar sounded dead to one's ears.

Silence had never bothered the feathered one like this.

Birdperson listened more than he spoke. He needed to hear in order to decide what to say next.

But right now, it felt like any word would suffice.

Rick was the one to volunteer and take the weight off his shoulders with an uncertain gulp. "Well, yeah. And don't-don't make me say it- we both know exactly what for."

One shared glare and he did know. "I won't." Faintly reassured the hybrid. He knew how difficult it must've been for his former best friend to put together words in this order. It was the most he could get out of the most fucked up man in the galaxy who could get away with anything if he wanted to. A part he secretly admired.

Looking away from his stare, Rick pretended to be interested in some television programme on air, tip of his ears tinted red.

A ghost of an amused smile sat on the other's mouth, eyes lingering on the skin. Did Rick seriously think he was subtle? This type of behavior made him question his IQ sometimes. "You formed a bond with Tamantha Jr." He got the scientist's attention again.

"I told you, that's not how it works- ugh." Rick groaned out, cutting himself off midsentence. "I mean- I guess? I-I'm good with children- I-I had one, remember? Now, can you just let me go back to whatever the fuck's-"

"Rick." Birdperson calmly demanded.

"..."

"Why are you running away from me?" He pulled his lips into a straight line. "Can you not put the past behind? Years have passed, Rick. Everything, changes." He dared address the actual elephant in the room. "Can't you?"

Running a distracted tongue on his lower lip, Rick's gaze rose to meet his, eyes more scrutinizing, looking like he'd sobered up. "Yeah, BP. Everything does change. Which is why Imma have my way with you if you don't stop fucking ogling me."

Blinking hard a few times, Birdperson tried to digest what he was accused of so unexpectedly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Whispered Rick with a warning tone to it, towering over him as he rose from his seat. "Believe me, I'm trying to put the past behind. You're the bastard who's not letting me. What's your deal, BP? Don't break me."

With the way his best friend's voice broke halfway, for the first time in a while, Birdperson was uncertain. Unsure of whether Rick was threatening him or begging him. He swallowed the dryness in his throat. "I couldn't if I tried, Rick."

His face was closer now, his trembling snort blowing warmly on his face. "Right. Cause that's what you think, you gorgeous asshole."

"Y-your voice is shaking." Birdperson tried to frown, squirming in his seat, ironically finding their places to be swapped. Unreasonably, even his breaths betrayed him by coming out as ragged.

"Yes, Birdperson. It is." The man hissed, grabbing his chin. "Now look at me, fucker! Who's running away now?!"

As if only to shut him up, the other turned his glaring back to the center, but that stubborn part vanished from his mind in a flash when a nose roughly collided with his.

The pain from the collision stopped him from feeling the set of demanding lips sliding pressing into his and the hand that snacked around his neck at some point for a few moments. And when he did, it was too late. He pressed back and angled his head for a deeper kiss for the flutters in his lungs, but wasn't met with equal resistance, making him open the eyes he didn't remember closing.

"You have got to be-"

No snarky answer came, only a light snore.

Sighing in exasperation, he almost threw the unconscious body back in his seat.

"Are you sure you wanna keep him?" Questioned the bartender, nose scrunched up in distaste. "Just saying."

Lips pursed with strain, Birdperson's eyes lingered on the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. "I need more alcohol to answer that question."

"Coming right up."

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #birdperson #fanfic #fanfics #ao3 #birdrick #requests

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