#maybe i should just accept that I'll never be able to interact normally with people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

savingthrcw · 9 months

Text

under request: Solona Amell

she's meant to be a Joke but I also love her so here she is (Joke because overpowered but still will allow you to explore your character's emotions as much as you'd like, and different dynamics)

"human" mage (yeah, right) / Eldritch Horror / Hero of Ferelden & Warden Commander / doesn't have a dark side any more than Barbie does / meant to be generally seen as beautiful, real life fc is Margot Robbie. This gives her privileges which is why I made a point of mentioning it. (your muse is allowed not to find her attractive, obviously).

Wanted interactions: Dragon Age characters because I cannot imagine more people wanting to given that she's all-powerful, but if you request her I'll write her with your other ones too. Solona can easily be played as follower (and a bonus one at that, who is basically more powerful than Sandal, she's not to be taken too seriously as a character, I'll write more about it soon). Open to romantic interactions with: potentially all. Demiromantic, Pansexual. Has tried a bit of everything because curious. It's unclear to her what is socially acceptable to say.

Hair color is like in the first pic (which is her by the time of DAI), not the third which is blonder, but the third shows Margot at 22 which is closer to Solona's age (somewhere near 20)

So, what about Solona? Why is she not to be taken too seriously?

Because she has the KILL-ALL console command and mods. Normally she uses other spells because she thinks it's fun to make battles last but she is overpowered.

She's found in the Deep Roads by a group of dwarves, surrounded by dead Darkspawn and chilling. Has no memories except for the fact that her name is Solona. It seems they were trying to make her into a BroodMother and died for it. She's in her late teens and has never seen a spellbook, all her magic is purely elemental. She picks the last name Amell.

She's VERY gifted which could make her a problem, but because she's so happy to follow Circle rules, is friendly, kind, and has such a pretty face, they let her be; the general idea is that she's too 'simple' to be dangerous. When it takes less than ten minutes to go through the Harrowing they all freak out and decide to find an excuse to make her Tranquil, because that can't be right. Also maybe they should study her. She helps Jowan because he asks her to, and even if she warns Irving, if only for their own safety, they use that as the Excuse. Duncan "saves her" as much as she 'needs' to be saved (meaning she can walk away without bloodshed) so she thanks them all for the opportunity and leaves. She knows NOTHING of the world besides the few things she was taught at the Circle, she finds everyone very amusing and everything is just so great. She will learn more about humanity as the story goes by and feel more things (there is a reason if her icons come from the Barbie movie)

The rest is history, as in DAO really starts.

Notes for other players: -if you play another HoF, Hawke or Inquisitor or someone in the position of being 'scary/in charge', only ask me to use her if you are okay with the fact that she cannot feel threatened by them and if they are very dark/serious/dominant she'd just be like 'okay lol' and not take them seriously. If that bothers you because you feel it's challenging their credibility or any other reason DO NOT interact with her. If she's a follower she could either be found at the Circle during the mission to recruit the mages or have been recruited by Duncan as a Warden not long before your muse was, depending on who you play, and was found on the way to Lothering.

-If you play a Solas and you want her to be able to tell that he's more than just an elf let me know, it'd be funny if she knew and didn't say anything because nobody asked?? -if you play an Anders and want him to have safe passage after DA2 tell me and she'll take care of him. -if you want to use her to retrieve an Alistair/Hawke from the Fade, you can -if you play anyone else and you want to change some fundamental part of your muse's life tell me, she probably can do it. Found an undefeatable enemy and snap her fingers to have it die? Done. Remove a demon/spell like it's nothing? Done.

[below what happens in game / her personality and relationships]

Beginning She travels with a constant smile, she doesn't pass out at the Joining, she doesn't need time to recharge when using spells in Ostagar, just keeps burning/freezing/electrocuting at will. She has a great time! Until Duncan is betrayed. She only needs saving (via Flemeth) because she is hit over the head from behind and passes out after freezing because she felt Duncan's death. Flemeth can probably feel there is something Different about her. Same for Solona but she says nothing because nobody asks. She knows near nothing about life, the Circle doesn't encourage close relationships, so she'll ask her companions about it.

Kill-all mod and other spells. One day the rest of the team sees her not smiling after her Mabari Juliette is hurt in battle, and she immediately kills the entire group army of Darkspawn around her with one move of her hand, then go do the same to the ones who were left behind. This is how they find out that everyone she wants dead and is within thirty feet from her will die on the spot.

It takes her about five seconds to recharge after every hit of the Death spell. So the only reason she doesn't just go up to the Archdemon and kills it on the spot is that she thinks all the different races should fight together to make them remember they are meant to be friends. That and there is enough Darkspawn to tire her, plus she can't be everywhere at the same time. Her nature and other skills: Her origins are unclear but it becomes clear she must be some sort of benevolent creature that looks human, and maybe partly is. She ages and is mortal now but who knows what she was. She cannot heal people nor can morph. She can do extra spells like levitate things. She still uses normal elemental spells because they are fun, the Death Spell is boring. She can feel things that other people can (see Flemeth being More). Can go back to the Fade with some effort. She's very caring and very excited to meet everyone, finds them all very funny. She really doesn't care about killing en masse, she'll just say "they are the enemy :D", but mostly follows Alistair for moral guidance (which makes them all very lucky). Gullible, easily persuaded to do things if she's not already set on a specific choice. So Very Ready to Help.

Some game choices: Loghain dies by Alistair's hand - Anora is queen (alone). Elves and Werewolves are at peace. Bhelen wins the throne. The Circle get rescued. She tries to take care of Cullen after, doesn't hold a grudge against anyone there. Doesn't harden companions, completes all their missions. Kills the Archdemon immediately once she sees it. Either convinced Alistair to perform the ritual because worried about him or she just Could Do That. Kills the Architect.

#muse: solona #show: dao #about solona;#listen it's not 'crack' per se because I fully invest myself in all threads #and there will be emotions and consequences #but sometimes it's funny to write like 'lol this is ridiculous'#or get the same feeling you do when you find Sandal surrounded by dead darkspawn

0 notes

rajanilefreak · 1 year

Text

So, got a bunch of interactions with people yesterday that made me think about this and despite my original intention with this account, I've already said enough downer shit that this just goes along the norm anyway so, I am now gonna make it everyone's problem by ranting about it.

The absolute worst thing about being a high functioning Neurodifergent person for me is that people look at you and their first thought upon first talking to you isn't "Oh, clearly this person has a 'condition' and I should lay off of her if I'm even slightly of a decent person." (let's face it, there will always be asses that would be themselves towards people with visible differences in how they process the world around them) Not, their first thought is "This chick is an absolute weirdo or into some drug." or "There's something off about her but I can quite put my finger on it so I'll just treat her like all the other outcast weirdos."

Since I was a kid I always had difficulties get along with others. It's fine when you are very young because adults and other kids usually just sort of accept it as kids being kids and hey, I least I wasn't the kid that ate his boogers. that's much weirder. but then you grow up and while you can somehow understand enough about interaction with people to almost be normal compared to others, it still isn't enough, especially in the eyes of other kids.

This is especially bad in middle school, when you are starting to adapt to becoming more and more independent but still not quite there yet and how that affects how you get along with everyone in your age group. There's this sort of pressure to not be seen as lame and a loser, even if no one is quite sure what being cool really is and resort to mimicking behavior that, once they mature, they come to realize is as cringe a fuck.

Now, if I was weirder, maybe my mom would have gotten off her ass and try to find out what was up with me and maybe I would have been diagnosed sooner. In my country, people that had diagnosis as being neurodivergent get a lot of slack so while kids would have probably still been assholes, they would have held back a lot more on the bullying because the teachers would have actually done something about it in my favor.

(Like, seriously, I once heard of a girl that really shouldn't have been in a public school due to her condition that when as far a repeatedly bashing the head of a classmate against one of the bathroom sinks shut for telling her to be quiet during class and nothing happened to her. That's how biased it is over here. We all get bad reputation for the other kids and get a lot of mean words directed at us but the teachers would absolutely stand for us most of the time.)

But because I'm high-functioning enough to almost be 'normal', my mom was content to let me deal with the bullshit by myself and then berate me for not being able to socialize the way she wanted me to.

(Then again, this is the woman who read through my suicidal ideations, without my permission mind you, because school sucked ass and I barely had anything worth waking up for in the morning, and decided the best reaction was to berate me about how I don't know what the fuck depression is, that only she knew because she had it and that I should never joke about being suicidal ever again, and then proceeded to ignore the issue, so...)

I was actually already in my twenties when my mental state became bad enough that she dropped her denial and helped get a good psychotherapist to try and figure how how to help me.

That was both the best and worst thing to happen to me regarding my mental health. On one hand, I finally got a diagnosis that make things finally make sense to me. It wasn't that I was unwilling to be 'normal' like my mom was convinced. I literally was as 'normal' as I could get. I felt validated.

But then the psychotherapist also revealed to my mother that I had high intelligence level (don't know what the english version of this is, but it's not IQ because IQ mostly centers around common knowledge and not how people process things, which are two very different things) and that fucked me over big time with her.

Because, like mentioned, she likes very much to pretend I'm normal, so hearing the lady say that the reason why my symptoms weren't as pronounced for someone with my diagnosis was because I was intelligent enough to mask them automatically made her go back to thinking that I totally had the capacity to be some idealized version of me that had good grades in everything and be social with people like she wanted me to. And that also meant she never invested in learning what sort of things I had problems with because of my condition so she continued acting like her usual charming, very unhelpful and some times triggering self and I had to deal with it because college and also the unemployment levels in my country meant I was stuck living with her.

The problem with this, like many of us will tell you, is that we still are different. Masks may be good but they are still just that: masks.

Sure, i'm very intelligent but that doesn't mean that I can have good grades automatically. I have a very eclectic knowledge base but that's because of my hyperfixations and I'm not about to hyperfixate in classwork, especially when the math teacher is an ass to me and doesn't actually help and this very same issue is still very applicable to college too.

And no, explaining to her that certain actions of her are triggering some of my syptoms didn't do jack shit. She forgot it the moment after I finished explaining to her because it isn't convenient and she is very resistant to changing her life if it doesn't directly benefit her.

So why did I brought up this topic today? Yesterday I tried to make a joke-reaction to my nephew wanting to lick my ice-cream. (admitedly it was only half joking because, when it comes to food, I'm ok with sharing stuff like cookies with him because I can break them off and give him the piece whereas ice cream means saliva will inevitably be swapped and swapping saliva through food grosses me out a bit). My reaction was being claiming that this was why I had my back towards him so that he wouldn't see me eating the ice-cream and ask for some. It was meant to be said jokingly much in the way she and my sister usually banter with me using insulting things. They had said far worse to me as a joke before and the kid is two, it's not like he would have understood anything bad out of the interaction. Not when I let him lick my ice-cream anyway because, again, despite being a bit grossed out at the thought of saliva in my food, it was family which is better than a stranger licking it, and it was meant to be a joke! I was just mimicking their way of joking around because that is my basis for social interactions.

But both of them took it extremely bad. it was enough for them to badtalk me behind my back about it and then for my sister to berate me about it the moment my nephew isn't around. The worst part. I can't even defend myself because there's this underlying current in my family that me being neurodivergent doesn't justify my actions, regardless of what those actions are and that me trying to explain what I was trying to do would just be me using the neurodivergent card to excuse myself so I just stay quiet and let her at it.

It also doesn't help that i actually do feel bad about it but am incapable of properly apologizing (something to do with shit my mom did in the past, not because of arrogance, but I'm not getting into all of my other issues right now).

This isn't about me being angry about this. I'm not. But I am very frustrated about it because it always feels like I can't get anything right no matter what I do and I can't even feel safe being myself around my family on a day that was actually going rather well. Sometimes I really wish I wasn't highfunctioning because then I might actually get some fucking leeway. But then again, sometime I can't help but wonder it it wouldn't be the same shit as always even if I weren't. If no one is willing to understand where I'm coming when I'm 'easier to deal with', would they really go out of their way to understand me if i didn't have the ability to mask it?

Seriously, why were they so surprised that I was so ride and die for my former best friend despite her being not a good friend when she was the only one that used to treat me normally even with all the weirdness attached. It sucked that her parents raised her to be a bit of a social climber, wanting friends on her (monetary) level, because she used to be the only person who made me feel seen and heard. Sure, she became very bad for me later on, but the fact that even when she wasn't being a good friend I was still very supportive of her is a testament to how much better she was at supporting me (even without a fucking diagnosis slapped on me) than my family was. And she definitely had no psychology degree or any research on my particular brand of neurodivergent.

Honestly, my thougts are all over the place right now. Just when I start thinking I'm ok with being neurodivergent and that I finally got a handle on it, something happens again that makes me wish I was normal. That I didn't have to deal with not being able to think like they do. That I could just understand what jokes I can say without them blowing their tops off for them.

What am I not seeing wrong with this interaction that they saw as wrong? Was it because my nephew is two? because i remember them making worse jokes even when I was young. They certainly liked to laugh when I would hurt myself in my toddler tantrums by bashing my own head against the wall in a failed attempt at getting all my emotions out. heck they even said to do it again and I couldn't have been older than four at the time. I thought self harm was far more serious a issue than not sharing food but maybe I'm just seeing something right? So what did I get wrong? Is the food the issue? because I shared a lick with mom before him? because I only shared one lick with her and he had like four or five (before my sister snapped and bought him his own ice-cream) and he slobbers a lot more than she. Was it that particular joke about me not wanting to share food that was the problem? i just wish I could know just so that I don't run the risk of repeating whatever part was that offensive to them. at a later date.

Seriously, why are they so surprised that I prefer to spend time alone than with them. At least I don't run the risk of insulting myself and then berating myself.

#raj rants

0 notes

witheringvoice · 2 years

Text

Conversation Scenarios In My Head - A Poem (TW)

TW: choking, suffocating, depression shit, the usual.

They range widely.

From small little get-to-know conversations.

Complimenting, teasing, just imagining some random chaos.

To really deep, opening up, trauma-filled, emotional conversations.

It's usually those ones.

Recently, they've been to my friend Eli.

He's, I'm most comfortable talking to him right now, Jordyn too.

But I see myself talking more freely with Eli.

Casually opening up with Jordyn I can do on occasion, but I mean going into a deep explanation.

For some reason, my mind goes to Eli for that.

Though I'd never do it, I assume.

I still have those conversations.

I want to share those.

The pain, the truth, the pain.

Eli, I may never be able to tell you this.

But I'll say it here.

The reason why I'm anxious and shy and quiet.

The reason I haven't opened up yet.

It's because of the way I programmed myself.

Eli, I watched everything around me growing up, I saw how kids bullied or used me in school.

I figured out what made people dislike me or make them upset.

I figured out what should leave me on neutral or positive ground.

Young me didn't realize it's impossible to please everyone.

And I know that now, but it's too late.

I'm programmed to suffocate myself and push down everything.

I'm passive, quiet, and awkward.

Because I'm being choked.

Anything I want to say is shoved down my throat before I can say it.

And I can't open up.

The key to turn is hidden behind excuse after excuse.

I'm too trauma-filled.

People would get annoyed or sick of me.

People only like this side of me, if they saw my other side, so different, they wouldn't like me.

It goes on and on.

It blocks the lock.

It's so bad, last year I almost lost my voice.

I was choked so badly, so stressed, that I couldn't speak for three days.

Those days were terrifying.

Sometimes that feeling comes back.

And when I push through it, it hurts so badly.

But if that hand comes back to choke me again, I'm scared.

I could lose my voice for good.

But Eli, I like you, and Jordyn, and Elle, and Olivia a lot.

I have so much fun being around you and interacting with you all.

Even though you seem to always be two opposing forces in some way.

I have fun being around you all.

But I can't open up to you.

And each and every day I fail too, I feel a void away.

Pulled away from you all.

Lost, and on my own.

I feel like I'm nothing, without any friends.

I can't even emotionally open up to my longest friend of ten years.

How could I open up to you all?

I've opened up to you all faster, sure, but completely?

It's a scary thought.

Though at the back of my mind I can't help but think you'd accept me.

All of you.

But Eli, these words are specifically meant to be seen or heard by you.

Why?

I don't fucking know my brain runs purely out of spite and massive willpower.

I don't have strength, energy, courage, or much hope.

But I am a stubborn spiteful piece of shit.

And I'm good at functioning past all reason.

My brain runs faster than my body, it runs faster than I'm able to comprehend normally.

So I don't know why I want to say all this to you.

To open up about everything.

To be able to completely be myself around you.

I guess it could just be because I'm the most comfortable around you.

Or maybe because for some reason that's probably far-fetched, I think you'd understand me the most.

Because conversations with you are the easiest.

Regardless, these words for whatever reason, are meant for you.

From me to you.

Silence to Eli.

But I will never be able to share these words with you, will I?

I'll cry, break down, and be in unbelievable pain all on my own.

Feeling miles away from everyone I love.

Because I can't fucking open up.

I could send this to you, I could show it to you.

With no words.

But I can't trauma dump on you like that.

Eli, these words may never reach you.

But thank you for talking to me, letting me talk to you.

Whether you did it because you felt bad for me or not.

Whether you actually wanted to or not.

Thank you.

Because even if I'm still stuck in this endless sorrowful loop I programmed myself to be stuck in.

You've still helped me a lot.

You're a nice friend to have because I think we're friends right?

I only know when people say they're friends with me.

Maybe I do rely on validation from others more than I realize...

What are these conversations scenarios in my head?

#tw vent #poem #vent post #poetry #depressing shit

0 notes

megthemewlingquim · 3 years

Text

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

no...

no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest.

and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

and that’s when it hits him.

persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

he pities you. you seem lonely.

loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

“hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

“it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

“what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

“yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

you shrug. “she loves me.”

“and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

“smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

“we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

“damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

“you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

“yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

“my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

“think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

“i'm twenty—one.”

“and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

“so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

“don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

you say your name, your voice quiet.

“much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

“okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.

189 notes · View notes

lordymaru · 3 years

Text

I'm about to refute this entire essay with the simple explanation being:

The only interaction we've seen of these two is when she's a freaking 8 year old. Your self insert shows no boundaries.

And this is probably the last time I'll make a post about the stupidity behind the way the pair is viewed:

Note: I know there's people out there with a brain who ship these two in a more conventional way. In the end you do you, ship whatever you want, no one can prevent you from doing that, just don't be gross about it.

One of the parts being the Significance of their first encounter:

She’s a poor peasant girl who’s suffered immense trauma, suffering, and loneliness. Her initiative to help Sesshomaru came from her generosity

Exactly, she's alone for her family had been killed before her eyes, the villagers treat her like garbage. When she meets Sess he's wounded and simply in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Both of them are, the difference being he's a demon, a powerful one and for him to have ended in such a bad shape only stabbed at his pride- Rin on the other hand is a child, a human tiny child who is vulnerable and to him she poses no threat. Both of them are weak then.

At this point, it’s observable that despite knowing her story, her scars, and her difficulties, humans do not even empathize, let alone sympathize with Rin. It is the feudal era, after all. She’s a young, disabled orphan and the villagers only see her for what she lacks: a voice, a family, and a place of belonging.

Again with your feudal era shit. I can assure you the world is just as ugly today as it was before you and I existed. Next.

When he asks about her bruises, this is the first time anyone had ever afforded her a second glance.

This was a huge step forward for Sess, a huuuuuuge one for he showed interest in another living creature, not just any creature but a human. And for her it was probably like Christmas, for no one had showed her any mercy or interest. Ok you get a point. But oh, boy, how I'm about to spit on the next one:

The audience can see Sesshomaru calculate her body language, recognizing that she is mute. Instead of pressing her further or ignoring her outright, he attempts to comfort her (in his own way), making her feel that it is okay if she chooses not to answer him; that her desire to reply to him should only be a desire, not an obligation. I think, on one hand, that was the first moment of something that would resemble compassion that Sesshomaru had ever administered, trying to put himself in her shoes — if someone had asked him to do something that required, for example, his left arm, he probably would have appreciated them saying “you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” so to provide him agency for something that he actually cannot do. And the same goes for Rin. He recognizes her disability, maybe even resonates with it and decides to empower her with a choice. Choice is important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic and it’s a word that will come up often.

Ok why are you comparing the loss of his arm to her not being able to talk? Not all disabilities are the same, you moron. Or am I dumb for thinking this way? If so, feel free to call me out on my lack of common sense kr whatever you wanna call it. Sess physically couldn't do shit with his left arm because well- it was gone! That's a physical disability. Rin had "lost" her voice after what she witnessed and so she wouldn't speak anymore. Have you heard of Psychogenic Dysphonia? If not, you can click here and give it a reading or do your own research. The more you know: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0892199703000158

So you say he "empowers her with a choice" that is "important when it comes to the Sesshomaru/Rin dynamic" let me get this straight, a choice because why? She's a child? A female? Because you said so yourself, it's the Feudal Era after all and therefore women had no choice in life, no voice, no agency, no nothing. So he was being magnanimous then? You know... This is where you start edging into the gr00ming territory. Can't you see? No? Alright, moving on.

BRUH WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you fucking good? See how you self insert? Bye. Next

The next time Sesshomaru sees Rin, it is suggested that he actively sought her, whether it be by curiosity or concern for well-being

He did... It is not suggested, he actually did asdfhkl. For both curiosity and he probably was worried. He also states he wants to test out his sword, what a perfect chance to do so for Rin is pretty much dead and that's the only way to make his sword work. So she was both being a guinea pig and an itch he wasn't quite sure how to scratch. Next.

Silence Rin.

Rin screams endlessly, annoying Sesshomaru. Firstly, this is the first time we hear him call her by her name. Secondly, Sesshomaru is visibly annoyed by her noises, however, he does not tell her to “shut up” as he normally would with Jaken or even InuYasha. He simply says “enough of that Rin, stop it.” (In Japanese he says, “Silence, Rin. You make too much noise.”) Even analyzing the Japanese dialogue, it is evidently softer than Sesshomaru’s usual ‘kisama’ (貴樣) manner of speech that we see depicted usually. This is the first time he’s had a companion who is not a demon, someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return. His softer tone is a logical deduction to make.

Ok... "someone with compassion, and who has had his general best interests at heart with no expectations in return." Bruh... As if he would even consider meeting someone's expectations. Are you sure you're talking about Sess? Another thing is, he always speaks in a calm tone, he rarely yells or loses his composure- he had no reason to be rude to her either, you're excusing his regular behavior simply because she ain't Jaken. Anything else?

Rin doesn't change Sesshomaru overnight, it's a gradual and long process

Well duh!!! Just like you don't lose the pounds you gained from eating in one sit 12 donuts a week ago. Stating the obvious and for what? What's exactly your mf point?

The silence part is important, idk how to tell you there is a power imbalance in their relationship from the moment he tells her to be quiet. He didn't say please, he didn't ask her to, he told her to be quiet. Like a parent would, if I could count the times my mom told me to shush.... That's your first indicator he is not her friend, he is not her equal.

Letting you Be Yourself: The Panther Demon Arc

the first frame the audience sees in the anime sets the scene, painting the Sessshomaru entourage in a serene manner, indicating a level of comfort between group members (episode 75). This is vastly different from our last depiction of Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship. In episode 44, he was unable to withstand her (albeit annoying) childish antics. But here, it’s observable that Sesshomaru can accept her and her package of unconventional fun. Not only does he tolerate and even more so, accept Rin, but he accepts her influence on his vassal, Jaken and allows them to be free around him.

Is called developing patience. I can assure you that when you're a parent or an older bro/sis and your kid/younger sibling is noisy af you either learn to tolerate that or get used to it for kids are kids abd you have to let them be kids. Next.

She's a child, she's not stupid.

The Abducted Rin: Calling her Name

The respect that Sesshomaru shows Rin is insurmountable. However, the InuYasha franchise is clever to portray the subtlety of Sesshomaru’s respect for her. KV on Twitter points out how highly he regards his companion and never relegates her to anything less than the value that she as a person embodies (@KVndie via Twitter). He consistently humanizes her.

He only sees how important she is to him after her ass dies a second time. What do you mean? He respects her enough to not coddle her, she is independent and taught her to be self sufficient from the very start. That's respect. He consistently humanizes her because... She ... Is ... Human! OMG WHAT A SHOCKER!

As Naraku remarks on his hostage to Sesshomaru, "Naturally, the girl you're looking for is not here…,” he continues, “the girl is in custody outside of the castle..." Naraku never makes an attempt to give her personhood, leaving her unnamed, disposable, and relegating her to a mere "girl." But Sesshomaru doesn’t take any of this. He is a cold-hearted Daiyokai, yet he still makes an effort and upholds his principle to refer to her as Rin — not a replaceable “girl.”

Naraku is a mf genius. It didn't quite click until now he wanted to see if she was important or not to him and to what extent. For he planned his moves that way, making people turn against one another. While he wouldn't have made Rin turn against Sess he set everything up so he would end up wanting to kill Kohaku and in doing so, Inugang would have engaged against Sess.

Sesshomaru’s insistence on using Rin’s name isn’t only highlighted in this isolated incident though. It pays off. It is an ongoing theme in their dynamic throughout the series.

That's her name ... How you want him to call her? Baby?

I could go on and on but... This is a fucking essay. And then I stumble against more bullcrap:

The second point I want to highlight here is Sesshomaru’s reaction to Rin’s fall and her risky expedition. At this point, it’s unquestionable that Rin has a special place in his heart.

Of course she has a special spot in his heart. I won't deny that. What worries me is how you're trying to justify the way she's important to him since she was a child. As if his way of seeing her had changed.

I'm gonna disagree by agreeing with you in a few pointers. Kagome and Kikyo were rivals, they both romantically love the same guy. Kagome being the only one who could save Kikyo chooses to help her, knowing damn well Inuyasha would have suffered if Kikyo had died- further more, if it was in Kagome's hands to do something about it.

Rin on the other hand, I will applaud to her how she grew past her fear of Kagura after being kidnapped by her, she saw her body in the river and said fuck it and did her best to try to pull her from the water. I loved how stubborn and brave she was, even tho Sess had to pull everyone out of the water- she deserves a gold star. You go baby girl!!!

Rin later makes a cheeky comment, noting Kagura’s romantic interest in Sesshomaru. Jaken brushes this off as childish naivety. But for the spectator, this establishes two things: (1) That Rin does not see Kagura as a rival for Lord Sesshomaru’s attention, let alone affection; and (2) that Rin is still a child. Rin is certainly a child, with a youthful and fresh outlook on life that brings out the best in people. But even as a child, her relationship with Sesshomaru is incredibly healthy, clear, and surprisingly communicative.

Why would she? She's not a spoiled brat

Nah? I thought her double D indicated otherwise. OF COURSE SHE'S A MF CHILD.

Why do you keep mentioning is healthy? Do you need reassurance of it? Communicative in what way? Cuz if you wanna talk about communication let's talk about how he didn't even acknowledge her ass when she gave birth. He didn't even say her name, didn't even look at her. Tell me now how they are communicative and healthy?

I could go on, I really but all I'm getting from this load of bullshit I'm forcing myself to read is how you do in fact need to reassure yourself thr ship is god tier and is... How you said it was? Ah, healthy.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if you see any typo ... My apologies, I tried. Also if you have any input or I was out of line in some way, my apologies once more.

#anti sessrin #antisessrin #anti-sessrin

161 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

(Uh. You're bio says prompts are open but your ask button says prompts are closed? I'll send a prompt anyways, feel free to ignore me.) The Burial Mounds are not made for people. It's not willing to change this. So as people eat it's food, drink it's water, breathe it's air... /they/ change. They're still human, technically, probably, but they're... different

It affected the strongest first, Wen Qing found.

Strong was, of course, a relative definition – no one at the Burial Mounds was ‘stronger’ than Wei Wuxian, of course, but all his power was borrowed, not his own, not after what he’d done to his golden core. So rather than being considered the strongest, he was considered among the weakest, right up there with A-Yuan: the rest of them, despite being civilians, had at minimum been civilians in a cultivation sect, meaning that they either had golden cores or had made some progress in developing their qi.

Of them all, Wen Qing and Wen Ning had always been the best; it had been that which had made them Wen Ruohan’s favorites.

So, to no surprise, it affected them first.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know that the Burial Mounds was full of resentment: a battlefield so bitter that it had poisoned the earth and water and air, left without purification for years upon years, and eventually the resentment had solidified, turned into a rotten lump of it.

It was that they hadn’t realized that it had started resenting anyone who tried to change it, and that it instead sought to change them.

It was a little like Stygian Tiger Seal, Wen Qing reflected in those years where she had too much time to reflect. That had been a regular sword, once – some cultivator’s treasure, no doubt, right up until they stabbed it into the corrupted Xuanwu’s side as they did, leaving their mark on the beast even as it ended their life – but years and years of being near resentment had made it resentful itself.

Had given it power, but also – malice.

The Burial Mounds had malice to spare, and it did not like them when they were just – human.

When they were still cultivators, trying their best to purify what little evil they could before they planted their crops.

So it changed them.

Wen Qing was the strongest cultivator left alive from their Wen sect, but Wen Ning – Wen Ning was something else, of course. Literally, thanks to Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation.

Perhaps the Burial Mounds saw what he was – a fierce corpse, living and conscious and shot through with resentful energy, not needing to eat or drink or sleep, no ability to purify anything – and thought that it would be much happier if the rest of them were like that too.

Wen Qing was the strongest, and so it went for her first.

At first she thought it was her own strength showing through. She’d always refrained from meals when possible to allow her family to eat more, especially A-Yuan, because the amount they were able to buy or grow was simply not enough for all of them. But she’d closely monitored her inedia to ensure that she was not growing weak – that was equally unacceptable, someone had to protect them – and eventually she noticed that her ability to refrain from regular food had grown rather impressive, to the point that she barely ate a bowl of rice once every fortnight.

Meditating in a small cave seemed almost like it was enough.

It wasn’t until she was there, drawing in what she thought was natural qi, and something living came in – a bird of some sort, she though – that she began to realize that something was wrong.

Did realize.

It was hard not to, not with the way she had torn at the bird with her teeth and swallowed the heat of its blood down her throat, leaving it rich in meat but without any blood.

After that Wen Qing had quietly panicked – though of course she’d brought the bird back for the rest of her family to cook and eat the normal way – and she’d vowed that she would eat only rice and radishes, just the way the rest of them did, and not resort to her cultivation any longer.

It was too late, though. The rice tasted spoiled in her mouth, even though everyone else ate it easily; the radish made her gag even though it was fresh. She could not eat them.

Only blood was sufficient.

Wen Qing wasn’t sure what to do about it – she couldn’t just go and hunt all the time, there weren’t enough living things on the Burial Mounds to make that practical, there was a reason they’d tried growing food instead – but around that time Wei Wuxian got the idea of making a blood pool for his experiments.

She didn’t know where he got the blood or how he kept it fresh.

She didn’t ask.

In the beginning it was only a spoonful here and there, enough to keep her energized and healthy while she tried to force herself to live on human food again, but after a while she found that a single cup of blood each week was enough to sustain her entirely, meaning that her aunts and uncles and poor little A-Yuan could eat a little more.

(Wei Wuxian ate too much, just as much as he might if he were a normal human who had never practiced inedia or couldn’t because his core was gone, but he was their benefactor. Of course they had to feed him before all others, except maybe the growing A-Yuan.)

After a while, Wen Qing noticed some of the others – Fourth Uncle was first, but others weren’t far behind – also leaving food on their plates, unable to eat, only they were wasting away for lack of it. She should have let it happen, maybe, but they’d worked so hard to survive, gotten through so much together, and so she decided to slip them a little blood in their tea, just to see if it would help.

It did. It was like night and day, the way their faces filled with life again – animated and cheerful, the way she remembered them best.

So she kept doing it.

(She’d once had medical ethics that forbade experimenting on those who did not know or consent, she recalled vaguely. She’d thrown those ethics into Wen Ruohan’s face, refusing to do his bidding even if he killed her, and he’d rolled his eyes and given in, assigning her only to hospital work for his soldiers and a management position in a supervisory office – he’d been nasty and cruel, but also practical, at least when it came to members of his family; he preferred to boast of having an excellent doctor as part of his clan over yet another corpse in his Fire Palace, and she’d made it clear that was the choice.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t accepted her refusal, though, and once you decided there was something worth breaching your ethics one time, it made it so much easier to make the same decision again – and again – and again…)

And then, before she knew it, the end came.

Wen Ning struck down Jin Zixuan on Wei Wuxian’s sloppy, badly-designed orders – however unintentional it had been on either of their parts – and the Jin sect demanded blood, whether Wei Wuxian’s or theirs. And Wei Wuxian was their benefactor, and that meant it had to be them.

Wen Qing told the Fourth Uncle about what she’d been doing with the blood before she left, not wanting them to starve because she wasn’t there any longer, and then she went to Jinlin Tower to die, seething with resentment about the whole thing. And they took her brother away, and they killed her and scattered her ashes in the Burial Mounds, probably as a final fuck you to her.

They also killed the rest of her family.

She knows they did, because whatever they did to kill her, it didn’t quite – stick.

It was about a year before she fully reformed herself out of the ashes, piecing each ash together back into a physical body like they were all just puzzle-pieces, and crawled out of the ground. Her family was waiting for her: their bodies had been thrown into the blood pool, and the blood of the pool had interacted with the blood already in their bodies – the blood she’d fed them – and they hadn’t stayed dead, either.

“We’re going to need to be careful,” she warned them, settling into the role of leader as easily as always. “We’re living off resentment, now – I’m not quite sure if we’re mo or gui, depends on when we count it as having happened, but either way, we’re now the things that cultivators night-hunt. We can’t allow ourselves to become known, or we’ll be targets.”

Nods all around.

She looked around, reviewing the crowd. “…where’s A-Yuan?”

“I think he’s still alive,” Granny said. “I hid him away before the battle, and the place was empty when I checked it again. No corpse.”

“Good,” Wen Qing said. She hoped he stayed that way, alive, the way they weren’t. “I don’t know what happened with Wen Ning – they didn’t kill him along with me. Maybe we can try to find him, later.”

Maybe they could find A-Yuan, too.

Maybe they could finally make themselves the home they’d been trying to build for so long.

#mdzs #wen qing #wen sect #my fic #my fics #vampires #because why not #that-one-fangirl-in-the-corner

277 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 11)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: Cookies and idiots. You might get diabetes.

N/A: I'm on a family trip right now so I'm being a little unactive but I'll do my best to be still updating on here. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and comments, you truly make me want to write twice as much.

The Dark Team: (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi )

“Are you sure that’s how you should be sending those?”. His nosy ass telling you how to do your job in your midgardian electronics was just amazing, truly. “It would be faster for them if you send it with that link instead of…”.

“Listen, Mischief”, you interrupted his unnecessary corrections “I don’t tell you how to levitate, what about you don’t tell me how to do this?”.

“I don’t levitate”.

“Not the point. This is my deal. Besides, since when and how do you know how to handle midgardian tech?”.

“I… I’m bored”.

“Do I look like an entertainment to you right now?”.

“What do you mean right now? Are you planning on entertaining me later?”.

“I will choke you if you keep doing that”.

“Do you promise?”.

"Yes, my dear".

"Can't wait, then", he smirked. You rolled your eyes, about to answer something snappy, but the work was more important at the moment.

Your phone beeped, pulling you out of the very one sided discussion. You went back to your work in silence, getting your full focus and concentration on it. If it weren’t for Loki, you would’ve already done a thousand more other things. But, as a bug on the lenses, he was stuck to your side. It seemed like you were babysitting him.

Peter was staring at the roof from the couch. A pile of homework laid by his side, untouched, and his unlocked phone seemed to be waiting for him to make a call he didn’t want to. Loki observed him, unsure if it was a good idea to ask. You looked at his uncertainty from over your shoulder, and watched him finally give up on the idea of socially interacting with the kid, sitting down by your side on the big, big (and, exaggeratingly pointing out, big; yet he sat in the nearest chair from you) table.

The compound certainly was a boring place when uninhabited, and the sun was already teasing with coming down, making the common room’s lights turn brighter and warmer. Maybe it was automatic, maybe it was Friday. You couldn’t care less, for you were too distracted by Loki’s gaze on your work.

“Loki, for fuck’s sake, would you stop staring, my dearest?”, you asked, imitating his tone of voice, hoping it’d make it less aggressive and a bit more fun. He rolled his eyes and smirked, understanding your intentions. You sounded as tired of him as you were.

“I’m...”.

“Bored, I know. What about you go entertain Pete? He looks equally, if not more, bored as you. And you’re interfering with my work, which I do not appreciate very much”.

“How am I supposed to entertain him? I’m not a clown”, he argued, slightly offended but just wanting to make time and conversation. You sighed.

“Then why do you act like one?”.

“What is that supposed to mean? Is that a midgardian insult I’m not aware of, pancake?”.

“Stop calling me that, it’s not derogative”.

“It wasn’t intended to be deroga…”.

“I’d kill for some pancakes”, interrupted Peter, trying to pull you two out of your quarrels. “Or something sweet”.

“Oh, the kid got peckish. This is perfect; you can go get him something sweet and leave my workspace alone”, you said, patting his back with an exhausted grin.

He rolled his eyes, but walked down to the kitchen looking for whatever could satiate Peter. There wasn’t anything. One would think that a billionaire would have the fridge full of chocolates, wouldn’t you?, he thought, exhausted by the idea of having to actually leave the compound to get him something. Last time he tried to buy something in Midgard, he accidentally paid three salaries to the workers in the name of Stark. He was so embarrassed, he said it was on purpose and called it an act of mischief. But it was, in fact, pure and raw unawareness of midgardian’s use of money.

“What about we bake something, Mr. Loki?”, proposed Peter, with a flaming interest in seeing what those magic hands could do with food. You chuckled, pretty sure they could do nothing; he had been a prince for over a thousand years, when could he have learnt to bake by himself?

Loki lowered his gaze, confronted with both thoughts of his companions, and their respective expectations. Truth was, you were right. But he couldn't disappoint the kid like that, he had to at least try. Peter's eyes shone brighter than ever, and you wondered if Loki was actually enjoying his company. They looked fine. And, finally, you had some space to work without distractions.

“In normal circumstances I’d reject you, spider boy, but since y/n seems to be about to hang me by the neck on the tip of the tower, might as well do this”, he said, stealing a glance at you and smirking.

“It’s an honor you decide to spend your last moments baking with me, Mr. Loki”.

“Sure, let’s go, child”.

“I’m not a child”.

“Alright”.

And just like that, they left the working area and moved to the kitchen. Both rooms were connected by a huge glassless window and a counter, so you were able to peep in and make sure they didn’t actually burn down the compound (which was the only rule Tony had) and work peacefully at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity, they still couldn’t accept they were failing miserably, and kept stirring the mix in a bowl. Flour formed clouds around them as Peter sneezed it away, and Loki’s hair had some cream on his (now not so) impeccable hair. Peter laughed at Loki’s commentary and poor baking skills, and Loki playfully mocked how his stickiness wasn’t helpful at all.

“Have you ever baked before, Mr. Loki?”.

“I haven’t but I’ve seen people bake, I figured I could imitate them”.

“Your mum, right? I used to bake with my aunt May a lot, but just now I realize maybe she was doing everything and I was eating the dough by her side”.

“That sounds more like it”, he chuckled. The mixing bowl trembled in his hand as he got distracted by the flying eggs coming at him, and it slipped out of him, smashing near half the mix onto the floor. “Oh, fuck”.

“It’s fine, we can use the one that’s left!”.

“Your positiveness astonishes me, spider boy”.

“Spider man”.

“Right, apologies”.

“We have already put in the flour, the sugar, the eggs, the milk… What else is in the recipe?”.

“I’m trying to remember, let me see”, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself “they used cinnamon, I think. And maybe butter? Yes, and chocolate chips”.

“Who?”.

“Ah, this recipe isn’t my mum’s. She didn’t bake either, you know, Queens don’t get their hands dirty” he laughed. “It was my companion’s”, he spat and suddenly realized what he had said. He lowered his head and sighed.

“Your companion?”, asked Peter. “As in partner? A spouse?”.

“Not spouse, just… you know, I’m just realizing I shouldn’t be talking to you about it”, he brushed it off, absolutely regretting it. Because Peter, unlike any other person, lacked filters.

So he would ask and ask and not realize where to stop. And at that point you could say Peter had become some sort of a weakness in Loki’s roughness. Peter was the softest, purest and better intentioned person he had ever met (or at least that’s how he saw him; of course, Loki had never seen him in action, fighting crime), and Loki was incapable of actually denying things to him. It didn’t matter how much Peter insisted on not being seen as a child, Loki was a thousand years older.

“No, please do. Now you’ve caught my attention”, he insisted, trying to clean some of the dough from the floor. Loki sighed, watching how the kid begged him to tell him more from his feet. “Please, Mr. Loki, I swear I won’t tell”.

“Well, my lover was the one who used to cook for us”, he explained as if he was telling someone else’s story. He clearly was trying to disengage his own emotions in order to tell them out loud. “And they’d usually bake some kick-ass cinnamon cookies”.

Peter had to grab the counter to steady himself from laughter, and you couldn’t help to snort at the conversation you were indiscreetly eavesdropping. Loki smiled.

“Then we have to replicate them, if they’re so kick-ass to make you say a midgardian expression”.

“We must, but I can’t remember quite well the next steps. It’s all sort of a blur now”.

“Can’t we ask them?”.

“No”, he said quickly. The air tensed, and untensed as fast as he realized. He especified again, trying to sound less affected by it “we can’t”.

“Oh”, Peter sounded so disappointed, Loki’s heart broke a little. “Are they dead?”.

“Oh my God, Pete, you can’t just ask…”, you intervened, trying to save Loki from further discomfort.

“It’s okay, they’re… well, they’re gone”, he said with a soft voice, raising his eyebrows as who tries to explain to a little kid why their fish is upside down, leaving to the imagination the typical trace of sadness that would follow. His eyes focused on the mixing bowl, reminiscing another time, another way. Eyes of someone who tries his best to never forget the little details from someone who’s not here anymore, because memories are all he has left. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts and tried to play it cool. “But guess who’s not gone? This dough on the floor. Let’s clean it up, kid”.

“Gone as in dead?”, insisted Peter, who had a very poor self control. You would’ve grabbed your face with eight hands if you could.

“Peter, don’t…”.

“Yes, they’re dead. Inside a coffin, rotting, getting eaten by worms. You know”, said Loki, this time jokingly, trying to scare off Peter. But it didn’t work, since Peter just kept asking about it. Loki was already too tired of having to take his brain yet again to places he didn’t want them to be.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Loki. Must be very painful”. The empathy in his eyes gave Loki the hint that he was not only being sincere, but curious about Loki's life. Interested, engaged. Not just morbidly curious, but wanting to get to know him better. Unfortunately, Loki couldn’t allow that. He would have to get the mission done, not make any friends, and go back to Asgard as alone as he came. It was the deal, the price he had to pay, the invisible handcuffs, the imaginary rope tying around his neck. Tightly, tightly, tighter.

“It’s alright, it was long ago”.

“Was they Asgardian, like you?”.

“I’m not actually Asgardian. I was raised there, but I’m from Jotunheim”.

Loki managed to move the conversation further than his lover (which he regretted highly to have brought the subject in the first place), and Peter got more and more interested in confirming how many of his mythology stories were true or not. The kitchen was the warmest place in the whole compound, and something started to smell like burnt sugar.

“So you did actually make Sif, Thor’s wife, bald? And did he make you go get her a wig in Svárthelfeim?”, he asked at the speed of light, and Loki laughed.

“Lady Sif’s not actually Thor’s betrothed. And no, I didn’t make her bald”, he said, and then muttered “she just happened to have a very low quality shampoo”.

“Ah, the cookies!”, Peter turned off the stove and took them out carefully, as to not get burned (again).

Loki peeped through the window to check on you. Your head, laying tiredly over your hands, seemed to be about to give up on you out of exhaustion. You haven’t slept properly since the mission started, and you couldn’t get your head off work for a moment. He approached you from behind and left a fresh cup of coffee and a couple of warm cookies by your side. You smiled at him gently and thanked him. If it wasn’t him you were talking about, you could’ve swore he blushed.

You have gotten so tranquil after one simple gesture, you hoped to get all your nerves down before going to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t that bad to have been stuck with them in the compound. They seemed to be having a good time, and Loki had nothing on his mind more than to have a rest after such hectic days.

“How long until you finish there?”, he asked with a low voice, a raspy, almost groany voice, that made you want to shut your computer down and throw it out of the window. You didn’t, instead, you checked your clock.

“Very soon, I’ll join you guys in a bit”.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki headcanon #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x avenger!reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason #mcu loki #peter parker #y/n

81 notes · View notes

thestorytellersapprentice · 3 years

Text

Why Do-yeok

I cannot believe I'm writing another one of this "Why" post. I thought it's a one-time thing with Love Alarm... But, here I am. Maybe because just like the previously mentioned Netflix series, Nevertheless causes huge discourse among its viewers. Team Potato and Team Butterfly. Jae-eon and Do-hyeok. Sanctuary or the gravitational pull.

And first off, an important note: my intention by writing this is not to seek any debate with anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, so here's mine. Feel free to read it or definitely not to read it if you're firmly on Jae-eon's corner and you can't imagine Na-bi with anyone else but him. I just want to sort out my thoughts simultaneously through writing this. And this is gonna be a bit long, I suppose.

So, as the title already declares, I'm Team Potato all the way. And, yep, this means I'm thoroughly on Do-hyeok's side and I want him to be happy because he deserves it. (Still need to see what's in store in the final episode, but I'm perfectly okay with an open ending: Na-bi ends up not choosing anyone but herself, as long as her friendship with Do-hyeok remains intact.)

And this comes down simply because of who Yang Do-hyeok is as a person.

If Do-hyeok is real, then you can bet that I'll date him myself too. At the very least, I'd definitely like to be friends with him.

Why?

Because....

One. His whole vibe is just so....warm and comfortable. We often see Do-hyeok's cheerful sides. He smiles a lot (and boy, Chae Jong-hyeop's smiles are just so endearing, but we're talking about the character here. Ahem.) He's attentive, thoughtful, and open. And he's not only like this with Na-bi. He, by nature, is a very friendly person, as you can see from his interaction with Do-yeon, his cousin, also with Na-bi's friends and the hyeongs in the noodle restaurant that he works at.

And I like it a lot that even just after Do-hyeok confesses to Na-bi and she turns him down, the very next day, they're able to speak with each other normally and just talk about his videos and how she'll watch them and give him feedback. That night, Na-bi also answers his call with a smile on her face. They joke around and not even stopping after Do-hyeok throws her some arguably-cringey-lines (if uttered by other guys and not handled properly). Clearly, Na-bi's very on ease and comfortable with and around him despite everything that has happened.

She even says this on her own: "And most of all, I feel comfortable when I'm with him."

Two. With Do-hyeok, the communication is sterling. Honesty and communication is also very important in a healthy relationship. Your partner isn't a mind reader, so you gotta tell her/him what you feel and think about, especially when you're having a hard time, so you both can work on it together. And our potato guy is the perfect example of openness and honesty.

Even when he's having a hard time, he doesn't lash out (unlike a certain someone), but he communicates it clearly to Na-bi: "I saw you and Park Jae-eon going into your house together. I know I said that I could wait for you as long as it takes. But I felt so jealous."

Do-hyeok also casually throwing lines like: "It's nice to hear your voice. The whole neighborhood seems empty without you." which can be really cringey, but hearing these with Chae Jong-hyeop's delivery = it's just Do-hyeok openly sharing his thoughts. And, again, he's not just like this with Na-bi. That's just the way he is. He openly states his concerns and thoughts to people close to him.

After her first disaster relationship and Jae-eon (who's a master deflector on all personal questions and is truly opaque), IMO someone like Do-hyeok is what Na-bi needs. With Do-hyeok, she never has to guess where she stands. And Na-bi responds to his openness accordingly. She shares her worries and not-so-good moments ("I was spacing out because the critique went badly. I got scolded. This semester is really the worst. I didn't get accepted to the exchange program as well.") And of course, Do-hyeok responds by reassuring and encouraging her.

Three. They begin as friends. Childhood friends, even. And while some may point out that she friend-zones him, I beg to differ. The expression on Na-bi's face when she first sees Do-yeon and hasn't recognizes her is not the expression of someone who sees her just-platonic-friend conversing with a girl. You can practically see the gears in her head turning and she suddenly looks unsure: "Who is that girl talking to Do-hyeok?"

But anyway, iIluminatedquill has written here and here what I want to say and more, so I won't add any more here, other than this: it's my own personal preference as well. I'm just more drawn to romantic relationships which also evolve from friendship. I feel that lust will only get you so far, and the companionship aspect is what makes it long-lasting. (Even in my personal life, my boyfriend is not only my boyfie, he's my friend and partner in crime also.)

Four. Do-hyeok has good and normal relationships with his family. He obviously has good relationship with his Grandpa (judging from the way he's reviving his Grandpa's noodle place until his Grandpa feels better) and is close with his cousin, Do-yeon. While this is based on what's been shown and even though we never see or hear about his parents, I think it's safe to say that Do-hyeok most probably grows up in a loving family and he carries their values with him as he approaches his relationships with people as an adult.

Again, this is mostly personal preference, but as someone who highly value family, for me this is another point for Do-hyeok. I'm not saying that someone with dysfunctional family cannot form loving relationships, but it's what one aspires for.

Do-hyeok cares for people. He takes care of them (e.g. voicing concerns over Do-yeon's plastered hand, preparing umbrella and coffee for Na-bi, etc etc). And, sadly, Jae-eon's distant family background just makes him even more detached and non-committal towards people.

As for Na-bi, she wants to learn from her mother and not following in her footsteps. "I promise myself I would never date while watching my mom." It's heavily implied (and is practically confirmed by her aunt) that her mother dates around as well, and from the one scene we're shown during her birthday weekend, she always feels like her mother neglects her and she's upset about it. So, yeah, Na-bi wants to live differently, and it's clear who's a natural at it already.

Five. I can see them growing together. Yeah, Na-bi's mostly the one who needs to sort out her life, but she also can be a good influence to Do-hyeok. She gives him feedback on his videos (as an example) and he builds upon that.

From Na-bi herself: "I don't want to ever disappoint Do-hyeok." She sees him as such a good guy and always receives things from him. I interpret her line here as her desire to improve herself, to be better. And that's how a good relationship should be, right? It brings out the best out of each other.

That's it from me for now.

I guess some of the points up there can be different priorities for different people, and that's okay. As I've said at the beginning of this post, this is all mine, so feel free to disagree.

To me, Jae-eon is like this very strong gravitational pull: he's sexy, mysterious and very alluring, yet he displays oh-so-many red flags. It's all such a rollercoaster ride with him: very fun and thrilling, yet can also cause you extreme dread.

While Do-hyeok is like a sanctuary. He represents safety, stability and ease. With him, it's like strolling on a park somewhere under the sunshine: things feel warm, pleasant, and cozy.

Na-bi probably still feels the gravitational force of Jae-eon. It's hard to shake off completely on such a short span of time, but I hope she remembers that just like her namesake, she always have her own strength to fly and defy gravity.

#jtbc nevertheless #team potato boy ofc #yang do hyeok #yu na bi #chae jong hyeop #han so hee #just my thoughts ahead of the finale #drama please don't disappoint me!

20 notes · View notes

pretty-setter-bois · 3 years

Text

elephant in the banquet hall

request; please do a continuation of this!! i love it!! 😭

summary; the long-awaited prequel to elephant in the room — how a small interaction in hong kong led to an awkward tension, which might even lead to something more.

word count; 3343™

warnings; none, just a bit suggestive, an almost-car accident.

sequel

“I’M BACK NOW.” haru announces, subconsciously tugging at his collar.

“welcome back.” kamei greets, barely looking up from his screen.

“welcome back! how was hong kong? you ate a lot of yummy food, right?” saeki interrogates.

he pauses for a second, blushing a little. “n-not so much...” he hands over a bag of mooncakes. “here's a gift for you guys.”

“wow! these mooncakes look so tasty! let's all have some!” saeki beams, taking them out of the bag. “huh? it's already open.

“sorry, i ate one as my share.” he apologizes, his tone anything but.

“you're so greedy. you ate a ton of delicious food, and on top of that you snacked on our gift?” kamei looks up to glare at him.

“i'm telling you, i didn't get to eat any good food.” haru sighs.

“but wasn't there a party at some fancy hotel after the symposium?”

“yeah, there was a party, but...”

KATO WALKS UP to you and daisuke, a plate in his hands. “i'm starving... i finally managed to get two slices of the roast beef... i usually don't get to eat expensive cuts like this.” he eyes his food, earning a small chuckle from you as you eye your own plate. “huh? aren't you going to eat?” he turns to daisuke.

“no.” daisuke deadpans.

“what's wrong with you? here, i'll give you a slice. i waited in line for 10 minutes for this, so eat it with care.” he puts a piece on daisuke’s plate.

the black-haired man is reluctant, but takes a bite nonetheless. he immediately places his fork down, patting his mouth down with a napkin.

“this is so tough it's inedible. the quality of the meat is bad, and it's overcooked.” he begins to complain.

“what? stop complaining and eat.” haru furrows his eyebrows, something he did a lot around the millionaire. “someday, you're going to get what you deserve.”

“i'm heading over to a different restaurant now. do you want to come?” he asks, standing up.

“i’m fine, thank you.” you smile.

“this is plenty good for me, see you later.” haru says, cutting his food.

he walks off, leaving you and haru alone.

“sheesh, he's such a jerk... how do you raise someone to be such a picky eater?” haru rambles, and you laugh again.

“don’t get mad at him. why didn’t you go with him, anyway?” you ask.

he turns his head towards you, taking in your appearance. you look stunning — not that you usually don’t — and he forgets that you’ve asked him a question.

“kato?” you ask again.

“oh, uh, i didn’t want this food to go to waste.”

i want to stay with you.

you finish your food, drying your hands on the warm towels the banquet had gifted you with and popping the peppermints they gave you in your mouth. you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

on the other hand, haru is stopped by a man on his way out. “hello? are you from japan?”

“huh? oh...” kato switches languages. “i'm japanese.”

“i would like to ask about the police box system in japan.” the man states.

“in japan...?” haru tilts his head, confused.

"yes, about the police box system.”

"s-sorry...” the taupe-haired man apologizes, unable to comprehend ‘police box system’.

he hears a voice behind him, turning his head to find you.

“oh, the police box system?” you answer in flawless english. “it’s a box-like phone-station, created so that we’re able to reach the police at anytime.”

“ah, really?” answers the man. “i’m from the united states, here’s my card.” he hands you a card. “i’m here on business to research ways to better the police system in america.” (as he should).

“any more questions?” you ask, looking down at his card.

“oh, no. i just wanted to get a vague idea of what they did. thank you.” he grins, and you could’ve sworn he winked, “don’t worry, the number is international.”

“alright, goodbye.” you wave with a smile.

“actually, i do have one question-” the man begins.

“sorry, we have to go.” haru tries to get to the point with the little english he knew.

the man nods warily, leaving to find someone else to speak to. “see you around.”

haru turns around to you, his face solemn. “come on, we have to go.”

“SO THAT’S WHY i didn't get a chance to eat.” haru explains, leaving out the last part.

“i can see why that happened. after all, it was an after party for an international symposium.” saeki nods.

“my english score was like 70 points out of 200 back when i took the national center test for university admissions.” he continues.

“how were you able to even join the metropolitan police department?” kamei squints. “anyways, you're like the most japanese person i know. you’re lucky (L/N) was there to save you.”

“oh yeah!” saeki says. “where is (L/N)-chan anyways?”

“ah...” haru’s mind trails to last night, and he shakes his head. “she called in sick today, said she caught a cold out of nowhere.”

“hm, strange...” kamei places his chin in his hand. “(L/N) usually doesn’t call in sick, even if she does have a cold.”

“maybe she’d really sick, we shouldn’t bother her.” haru tries to redirect the conversation.

“what could get (L/N)-san so sick to the point where she’d have to call in sick?” saeki ponders, and haru coughs to avoid gulping.

“so, did you end up missing your chance to eat?” kamei finally changes the topic.

“no, i didn't have a choice, so i tagged along with kambe to go eat.” haru exhales a sigh of relief.

“oh, so you were able to eat something delicious after all.” kamei nods.

“actually, that’s not really the case...”

“wait, i'm not sure if i understand. you got to eat, or you didn't?”

“i guess you can say i ate something...” he thinks of the mooncake, then trailing off to the thought of you. he lightly shakes his head again.

"the fact that you went to eat with kambe means that you went to a super high-end restaurant, right? how much was it? how was the meal?”

“500,000 yen.”

“you're kidding me!” saeki exclaims. “500,000?! that's way more than my monthly salary!”

“it's more than my salary, too. but... expensive doesn't necessarily mean good...” haru rubs the back of his neck.

THE THREE OF you arrive at a high-end restaurant, one which daisuke seems to be familiar with. you and haru awe at the place, thinking of how expensive it must be.

"what's up with this place... it's so extravagant... but it's empty.” haru notes.

“i reserved the entire restaurant. i eat here often when i'm in hong kong.” daisuke explains.

“i see...” haru nods.

"menu, please.” the waiter greats in cantonese.

although you were better than haru at english, you were considerably clueless when it came to cantonese. he seems to pick up on this.

"thank you.” he thanks the waiter.

he turns to you, giving a brief explanation of the items on the menu and letting you pick.

“i'm starving... i missed out on that roast beef, so i'm craving meat...” he mutters.

“and i missed out on my desert because of you.” you tease jokingly, receiving a sheepish smile from the taupe-haired man.

“there's so many different kinds... meat... meat... meat... here it is. this must be where the meat section starts... let's see... 'pear, piece, with, steam, fruit, small, raccoon dog'... what is this?” he reads the menu aloud to you.

"pear slices with steamed civet.” daisuke answers.

“i can accept the pears... but civets? aren't they similar to raccoon dogs?”

"raccoon dogs are canines, civets are part of the viverridae family. they are completely different species.”

"you're missing the point.” haru says. “fine, i'll pick something else... have you decided, (L/N)?”

“no... i’ve never heard of these food before.” you admit.

"what's this? 'steamed, camel, peak'...” haru reads.

"that's steamed camel hump.” daisuke says.

"pass. let's see... 'boar, brain, temporary, leopard, fetus...”

"that one? you might think that it's stewed leopard fetus, but it's actually pig brains...”

“what the hell do these rich people eat...” you mutter.

"hey! isn't there any normal food here?!” haru yells, seeming to have read your thoughts.

"you sure complain a lot.” daisuke says nonchalantly.

“i'm not complaining! i just want to eat some normal chinese food!”

"this is normal chinese food for me. what do you mean by normal?”

"that would be...” he pauses to think. “for instance, fried rice, potstickers, or congee, you know? like stuff they sell at street food stalls. you don't have to be eating civets or camel humps to have good food!”

daisuke pauses. “a street food stall... i've never been to one...”

“then let's get some street food. the food stalls are cheap and rowdy, and you can always get a taste of the local culture.” haru looks around the restaurant. “what about you, (L/N)?”

“only if you pick what i eat.” you chuckle, earning an eager grin.

“HEUSC, find the best food stall we can get to in one hour.” daisuke presses on his earring.

"understood. balance: unlimited.” HEUSC answers.

the sounds of a helicopter approaching can be heard, waiting for the three detectives to get in.

“so, where are we?” haru asks.

"a food stall.” deadpans daisuke.

"i know that! you just shoved us on to a chopper and took us to an unknown place, so i'm asking you where the hell we are!”

“this is macau. according to HEUSC, the best food stall within an hour's travel was this one located in sam chan dang, macau-”

"so we came to hong kong for nothing!”

"you sure complain a lot.”

haru sighs, cradling his head in his hands. “why can't we just have an ordinary meal...”

you pat his back reassuringly, a bit excited to see what daisuke has in store for the three of you.

“here you go. sorry to make you wait.” the man says in cantonese, serving you your food.

“well... it does look really tasty...” haru admits.

“yeah.” daisuke nods.

"well, we might as well dig in. i'm absolutely starving.” haru picks up his chopsticks.

“hold on!” daisuke interrupts.

“what now?”

“HEUSC mentioned the possibility of a food safety issue at this stall.”

“don't worry about details like that. this is a food stall, so not everything's gonna be perfect-”

"i can't allow that. HEUSC checked the surrounding radius of 10 meters, and found 7 rats and 48 cockroaches-”

"hey! i just lost my appetite!”

“can we go home?” you ask, already tired.

“oh no...” daisuke says, disregarding what you said.

"hey... what is it this time?” haru sighs.

"we're going back to hong kong.” he states

"huh? why?” you ask.

"the store that i was planning to buy souvenirs at closes in 30 minutes.” daisuke says.

"souvenirs? just buy something from a store that's open!” haru states.

"i can't do that.”

“actually, kambe, me and kato won’t bother you. we’ll look for a food stand, and you get your souvenirs. we’ll tell you when find one.”

haru’s a bit surprised by your words, but would rather spend time with you than hopping restaurants with daisuke.

daisuke nods, waving goodbye and hopping in his helicopter. you wave back, deciding to begin your search for a place to eat, haru close behind, of course.

“look! that place looks good!” you point, light on your feet.

you’re so excited that you don’t notice the truck driving on the road until the horn is almost by your ear.

haru grabs you back by the arm, holding you close as your mind tries to register what happened.

“i’m not letting you out of my sight.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear, bur firm.

you nod, quiet. what if haru hadn’t been there? what would’ve happened then?

a soft squeeze to the hand he’s been holding is all you need for reassurance. you wonder when he began to hold it.

he leads the two of you across to the restaurant that you saw, and you reread the sign.

“motel.” you squint. you take a quick glance of the stores open around you, and this one seems to be the only one. “i think everything else is closed. let’s check if they have food.”

the bell by the door jingles at your entrance, and the secretary at the desk turns to face you.

“hello, we were wondering if there was anywhere we could eat?” you ask.

“the buffet is open for about an hour, but only for the people who have rooms registered.” she answers.

you nod, and watch haru look down at his phone.

“kambe isn’t gonna be here for a while.” he informs you.

“we’ll get a room.” you nod.

she turns around to get the paperwork ready, and haru’s eyes widen.

“what do you mean? we have to leave tomorrow!” he whispers.

“don’t worry,” you assure him. “we’ll sign out early in the morning.”

the secretary turns around and hands you a piece of paper to fill out, to which you finish quickly and hand back to her.

“here’s your bill.” she states.

you’re relieved that it isn’t expensive, as you haven’t brought much money with you in the first place.

“um, excuse me?” you call.

“yeah?” she answers.

“this says single, we asked for a double.” you point to the paper.

haru has to gulp to avoid showing his embarrassment.

“sorry, but we only have one-bed rooms available.” she explains. “it doesn’t seem to be a problem between the two of you, though.”

your faces get red, and you quickly pay. the two of you awkwardly scurry off to the buffet, which you have previously been told is free.

you eat your meals in silence, ‘itadkimasu’ and occasional questions with one-word answers asked, but nothing else.

a ringing phone is what finally snaps the two of you out of it, and you look up to see that it’s haru’s.

“huh?! what do you mean you followed him home?! you don’t have enough space for us?! another flight?!” haru almost yells into his phone, before the other line beeps. “ugh.”

“what happened?” you ask.

“ah...” he nervously rubs at his neck. “daisuke bought too many souvenirs, and there was no place for us to fit.”

“the flight is supposed to be...” you look down at your watch. “right now!”

“yeah, he got us another.”

“when?”

“tomorrow...”

you nod, realizing that you would actually need to stay at the motel.

“it’s a good thing we made early reservations then...”

“yeah...”

THE TWO OF you enter the reserved room, deciding to might as well get comfortable.

“hey, kato?” you ask. “i’m going to shower, can you look for a futon or something like that?”

he nods, leaving you to the bathroom and him to his thoughts.

the bathroom didn’t have any shampoo or conditioner, just a soap dispenser that serves as a reminder as to why you don’t like hotels.

you dry yourself off, placing on your previous clothes and cursing your past self for wearing something to uncomfortable.

you step out of the bathroom, a towel around your neck as you dry your hair. he notices you and instantly gets up, looking at you in worry.

“i... couldn’t find a futon...”

“it’s fine.” you sigh, placing the towel on a rack. “we’re adults, right?”

he nods, trying to make his gulp unnoticeable.

both your shoes had been placed by the door, and your jacket hung by his on a chair. his tie was on the bedside table, and only then had you noticed that the first few buttons of his shirt were open.

your backs were against each other, trying to get comfortable on the bed with a small pillow in-between you as a divider.

“hey, kato?” you call out. “sorry for getting you into this mess. we could’ve stuck with daisuke instead, but...”

“it’s fine.” he answers. “though, i don’t think i’ll be able to get any sleep tonight.”

“me either.”

the two of you turn to face each other, moving the pillow out of the way. you haven’t noticed the close proximity between you until his hot breath meets yours.

until you look at how his eyes darken, how good his hair looks messy, and confirm that his top buttons are indeed open.

it starts with a small kiss, really. are his lips as soft as they look? that’s all you want to confirm, and confirm you do.

you don’t remember how his shirt ends up on the floor, or how your dress is unzipped. what you do remember, is that it is the best night’s sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

YOU WOKE UP the next morning with a headache and a few hours of sleep, his phone buzzing on the table beside you.

he reaches to grab it, answering the call with a deep tone. “yeah, we’ll be there.” the call ends soon after. “it’s time to go.”

“i want to sleep.” you mumble.

“you can sleep on the plane.” he helps you up. “come on.”

the two of you get ready for your flight back to japan, and sign out at the front desk of the motel. you make sure to zip up your jacket all the way.

you arrive at the airport, and shortly board the plane after. you try to fall asleep, but the turbulence and noise make it hard to do so.

your headache has gotten worse, and you make a mental note to never shower before bed again.

daisuke greets you both in japan, dropping you off at haru’s home after one look at your condition. you’re far too tired to argue, and head to bed the moment you make it there.

“THE FACT THAT we have mooncakes here means that he really made the chef make some...” saeki notes.

"yeah, he got ahold of the chef just as he got home. apparently, he made the chef return to the shop immediately to make some mooncakes right in front of his eyes.” haru explains.

“what do you mean? weren’t you there?” kamei asks.

“ah, i went to grab... dinner with (L/N).” haru sweats.

“that must have annoyed the chef,” kamei thinks. “bringing him back to the restaurant to cook, i mean.”

"but actually... you can't quite say that.”

"why? no matter how you look at it, what he did was out of line.”

“kambe bought the mooncakes for 5 million yen per box.”

"how many boxes did he buy?” saeki questions.

"this one, and the one box for his grandmother.” kato sighs.

“in other words, 10 million yen for two boxes of mooncakes... let's see, so there's 10 pieces in each box. so each piece is 500,000 yen...” kamei concludes.

"oh! so that means your dinner last night was...” saeki thinks.

"besides the food i ate with (L/N), it was this mooncake. i ate one on the flight back.” haru stands up. “i have to get her her mooncake, i was just stopping by to make sure everyone had one.”

“give her our best wishes!” waves saeki.

haru nods, wrapping your mooncake in a cloth and leaving the building. he is tired, but the fatigue he was feeling was nothing compared to yours.

he remembers that daisuke had dropped you off at his home, since neither knew your address and the black-haired man needed to get to work.

he opens the door to his apartment, hanging his jacket by the door and placing the mooncake on the table. he brings it to your sleeping form with a few headache tablets and a glass of water, leaving it on the bedside table.

he grabs a few of his clothes and heads in the the shower, drying off and deciding to take a short nap on the couch afterwards.

he falls asleep shortly, forgetting about the elephant in the room which waited to greet the two of you once you’ve woken up.

NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

long awaited part two! i thought a prequel would be the best way to write a second part, and they can be read in any order :)

this story also takes place betweem episode two and episode four, during the flight to hong kong.

#balance unlimited #the millionare detective balance: unlimited #balance unlimited imagines #balance unlimited x reader #fugou keiji balance unlimited #haru kato #haru kato x reader #kato x reader #haru kato imagine

91 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Love (Pt. 11 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

<- Previous part (10)

Next part (12)->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

Plans For The Future

You're seated on your knees, on the floor, before the coffee table where several sheets of paper are scattered around. The possibilities for your future. You left the League in the cave to discuss their business and came up here to do this. But it's been twenty minutes since you wrote down the last option, and you're still clueless.

“Any luck?” Barry is suddenly seated across from you, the wind he makes with he's speed messing with the papers. But he quickly gathers them again.

“No,” you mutter, feeling a little defeated. Seconds later the others are here too, and as if they were told to, they sit all around the coffee table, on the floor. Expect for Bruce, who sits on the couch, his legs near you.

“Isn't there anything you would like to do?”

“I can't really picture myself doing anything.” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh.

“You were so excited about it in the cave. What changed?" Diana asks, and you notice how everyone seems focused on you. In the last week, since they got back from Washington, the League seems very interested in you. There's a lot of effort to make you feel comfortable, and engage you in their conversations.

“Am I going crazy or are you guys like... Trying to make me get used to normal human interaction again?” Crossing your arms, you have your answer by the way they all exchange a glance and then stare at Bruce. “I knew it.”

“How did you find out?”

“Well, right now everyone is literally seated around the coffee table with me. Except for this weirdo here.” You elbow Bruce's leg, making Barry and Arthur giggle. “You're planning to take me out, aren't you?”

“You're very perceptive.” He says as he moves to seat on the floor with you, an arm around your shoulders. “I've been thinking about it for a while.”

“Do you think I can deal with the real world?” You ask him in a lower voice. You haven't been on the streets yet, and you're not sure how you'll feel among the people.

“Yes, I do.”

“You know people will think Bruce Wayne has a girlfriend, right? If we go out and you do things like hold my hand...” You bet it won't take half an hour for his name to be on the headlines again, and the news channels will talk about it. The world will know about your existence, and every girl who has her eyes on Bruce will know they lost their chance. “You'll have to keep a distance.”

“(Y/N), we're dating. I won't keep that a secret so yes, people will have to find out eventually.” He places a soft kiss on your nose before his lips connect to yours.

“Uhm... We're still here...” Barry mutters, reminding you of the public.

Weird how it only took half a second for you to forget you have company. “So... Now that I know why you guys are still around, help me find something to major in.”

“Let's see what you have here.” Diana starts, and everyone takes a piece of paper or two. “Doctor?”

“Nope. That was just a joke.” Bending over the table a little, you take the paper from her hand. “Moving on.”

“Nurse," Arthur says.

“Vet.” Clark reads.

“All jokes.” Wanting something isn't enough, you have to feel like you can do it. And you don't think you can.

“If you become a nurse you could patch him up.” Arthur gestures at Bruce who nods.

“Sweetheart if this is what you want you just need to say and I'll help you.”

“Me? A nurse? No way, it's too much for me. I need something easier.” You're not saying you're stupid, but why put effort into something on which you'll probably fail? No need to hurt your feelings.

“So you don't think you're smart enough?” Clark asks and you nod.

“If you weren't smart you wouldn't have survived this long as a criminal. And wouldn't have escaped the prison twice. Or fooled the Joker so many times.” Bruce says, and you tilt your head to the side a little, thinking. It did take some brain to do this stuff, calculations, memorization, and some random knowledge.

“It looks like this is what you want,” Arthur mumbles, elbows on the coffee table.

Nurses help people, and that's the exact opposite of what you did. You never really enjoyed hurting people though, at least not normal civilians.

“Yeah... I've been thinking about being a practitioner nurse.”

“You've been doing some research on the subject then.” Wonder Woman raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. They can diagnose diseases, initiate treatments, and prescribe medications. They're more independent.” Shrugging your shoulders, you lean closer to Bruce. “But I don't know. Maybe we should keep looking into the other options.” Pretending you're not insecure is useless. Building a life is both exciting and terrifying.

“No. I guess we found what you want to do.” Bruce says and kisses your cheek. You bite back a smile, but it escapes anyway. “Anything as long as you're happy.”

“I can die in peace now,” Arthur says, and everyone turns their heads to look at him. He simply gestures at you and Bruce as if it would explain everything. “I lived enough to see Batman being soft with someone. The rest of my life will be dull.”

It took long enough for the funny comments to start. “Let the man be, Arthur. Everyone softens when they find love.” Diana adds.

“Aren't you a little too young to be dating Bruce actually?” Barry asks, shrugging his shoulders. “Just-just saying.”

“I haven't really thought about that,” you say.

“I have,” Bruce admits.

“Obviously. In this relationship you're the morals part.” You start gathering the sheets of paper, making a small pile. “I'm the impulse part.”

“Impulse part?”

“I did kiss you out of impulse. I was trying to control myself for quite a while but the thought of another suicide mission finally made me give in.” Looking at him, you smirk. “What would you do if I didn't kiss you before the mission? Were you planning to tell me about your feelings?”

“Shouldn't we discuss that in private?” He raises an eyebrow, and you give the guys a glance before looking back at Bruce.

“We don't mind. Go on.” Barry mutters, getting an annoyed stare from Diana.

“Let's give them some time." She says before getting up. The others soon follow, but Barry is the last.

“The fast one seems very curious about Batman's love life,” you say in a sassy tone when you're left alone.

“He turned the mission in Washington a nightmare the moment I mentioned you.” Bruce moves closer, caressing your cheek.

“And how was that?”

“I told them we had to make it as quick as possible because I had someone to go back to.” He places a soft kiss on your lips and you can't help but smile. You can't believe that someone was you. “Then he just wouldn't let it go. And yes, I was planning on telling you how I felt.”

“What would you do if the feeling wasn't mutual?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you move to sit on his lap.

“I was pretty sure you felt something for me.”

“Really? I was trying so hard to hide it.”

“Miss Quinzel. Master Bruce. Dinner is served.” Alfred announces and you're just about to stand up when Bruce lifts you up with him.

“Because that will make Barry stop sassing at you,” you tell him, not even bothering to ask him to put you down. He can carry you all the way he wants. It feels funny though, and good to float like this. But the best part is how close your faces are, so you take the chance to kiss him as he takes you to the dining room.

Dinner goes on very well. The chattering is constant, and you manage to get into the conversations. You do feel like you're getting along with the League. Maybe you'll do well with other people too. If you can deal with the supers, you can deal with regular humans. It gives you hope, makes you a little more excited to go out. For dessert, you have brownies, one of your favorites, with vanilla ice cream.

“(Y/N), you said something about a suicide mission?” Barry asks after Diana gives you more details about the Washington mission. “What was that about?”

“Yeah... It was a terrorist attack in New Mexico. They mounted a base there but we never knew their plans.”

“They send you in a mission completely in the dark?” Diana furrows her eyebrows.

“We're the Suicide Squad. Well, that's what we call ourselves. The official name is Task Force X.” You move in the chair a little, but you notice you're not as uncomfortable as you were before talking about it. Bruce says you have to accept who you were in order to be free to restart. Trying to ignore it will only allow the past to haunt you. “When the soldiers can't deal with it but it's still not bad enough to call the heroes, they send us. The whole point is that it doesn't matter if we die in the process. The order is to finish the mission. We're... Spendable.”

“I never heard of anything like that,” Clark says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nobody is supposed to know. But it doesn't matter anymore. The mission was a success and I'd be fine with it if the guards didn't beat me up on my way back here.” You say it without really noticing what it means, but by the way they exchange glances with each other, there are questions in their heads. “Some of them knew me from Belle Reve. So they knew I was going back somewhere they wouldn't be able to punish me for my crimes. They said it was a taste from home.”

“Everyone who was in that van was fired.” Bruce's voice is heavy with anger. “And I doubt they'll get any other job in Gotham.”

“If you're in prison to pay for your crimes, why did they beat you? Isn't the confinement the punishment?” Barry raises his eyebrows, and Arthur nods.

“Uhm... Yes. In any other prison, yes. But Belle Reve is different. It's like we're not on Earth anymore they... They can do pretty much anything they want. Every man and woman who acts as our guards are military or ex-military. Soldiers... And they have so much hate for us.” The memories come back in flashes of lightning, flooding your mind. The pain is still a vivid dream, the darkness is still terrorizing. “I can only speak for myself but I'm sure almost everyone who gets there tries to fight, to run away. I did. And maybe... Maybe I deserved it, maybe what they did was right.”

“(Y/N), don't you think for a second that you deserved what they did to you. Just because someone is a criminal doesn't give them the reason to treat you like an animal.” Bruce takes your hand over the table, and you smile to feel his fingers brushing against the soft skin of the back on your hand.

“They don't treat animals like they treat us.” The acknowledgment is dark and heavy, and you feel as the atmosphere gets tense. The League seems uncomfortable, perplexed.

“What the hell happens in that place?” Diana is the first to speak up after several seconds of deep silence.

“I can only tell what happened to me. By the rumors, it depends on who we are. Killercroc, for example, is left alone in a hole on the ground. Me... I always fought back.” Taking a deep breath, you revisit the endless days you spent in hell. The longest year of your life. The terror was usually suffocated by anger, burning rage, but it was always there, creeping through the walls. “I was kept in the dark. The only light source came from the small gap under the door. It had a blueish glow. My cell was open three times a day, at 10 a.m., 04 p.m., and 08 p.m. The two first were to feed me. They put a straw through my nose all the way down to my throat and fed me with some kind yogurt.” You cringe at the memory, a shiver rolling down your spine. “The last one was the shower. If you can call that a shower... They made me take my clothes off and back up into a concrete wall and blast me with water from a hose. If the weather was hot, the water was ice cold... If it was cold, the water was so hot that it burned my skin.” As you speak, Bruce moves his chair closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“You don't have to tell us anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” Clark says in a low voice.

“No, it's ok... It's good to say it. To... Let it out.” Holding it inside has only screwed you up over and over again. Dealing with it alone has isolated you. And you don't want to be alone anymore. “Before or after the shower was usually when the beat me. Men, women... They didn't really mind if they were a 6ft tall man kicking me. The drugs, the... Several different kids of drugs they gave me numbed the pain, but it was worse, at least to me.” The tears are rolling down now, as you're looking at the table, holding Bruce's hand as if he's your anchor. “I knew my body was being broken, sliced, bones being fractured but I only felt the impact. It's a psychological torture they play alongside the physical one. They liked to know that I was feeling my body being hurt, but I could never feel it... The drugs never wore off, so they never treated to my wounds. I was always left there, in my cell, as the blood dried, as the darkness threatened to suffocate me but I always told myself I was Havoc. I was freaking Havoc and I did not only deserve that, but I also could deal with it. That I was used to the pain...”

“Alright, that's enough.” Bruce raises his voice, and you notice you were yelling. He pulls you close and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“I speak for everyone here when I say we're very sorry for everything you've been through,” Diana says, and you feel a hand on your shoulder. When you look up, you see that not only her but all the others are standing around you and Bruce. “And I'm sorry I brought up such terrible memories.”

“Thank you.” Your voice sounds terribly weak, and Bruce dries off some of the tears with his thumb. When you get up, Diana holds both your hands on hers.

“I want you to know that you have me now. To talk, to ask for help, anything.” Your eyes quickly fly through the others when they nod.

“More than Bruce's friend, you're our friend now,” Arthur says.

“So now you not only have friends but superfriends.” Barry steps ahead and pulls you into a hug. You're surprised at the sudden affection, but it feels nice. The others join you soon, and you're in the middle of a group hug.

Not for a single moment in your life you thought you'd ever had anything like this. “Guys, you know you don't have to do this,” you mutter because you can't help but think you don't deserve it, that you're not the victim. Guess you still have a lot to work on, and Bruce is right to still give you some therapy sessions.

“Of course we do. You're an incredible woman who overcame so much. And you truly seem to want to leave the past behind.”

“Clark's right. You're the proof that villains aren't too far beyond repair.” Arthur says with a smile.

“Thanks again.” You're blushing a little because you think they see you as more than what you are now. But it's good to know they believe you.

An hour later, you're on Bruce's bedroom, getting ready to sleep. You're reading about Gotham's University as Bruce brushes his teeth, getting a little confused by how complicated it seems to be accepted there.

“Bruce, all these papers... I don't know if I have them.” You complain, suddenly losing hope.

“I'll deal with them, don't worry.” He comes to the bed, sitting beside you and resting his back against the pillowy headrest. “Worry about studying.”

“And about the fact I'll be surrounded by people all the time.” You sigh, putting the tablet on the nightstand. “It's still confusing, you know. Terrifying sometimes.” You're used to making people fear you, and when that's not possible, they just hate you. Hurt you. You're not sure how you'd manage to stay in between. To be normal.

“The classes only start next semester, so you'll have some months to get used to people.” Bruce pulls you to lie down, and you lay your head on his chest. “Tomorrow we're going out.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. We'll walk around, buy you some new clothes, eat at a nice restaurant...” He caresses your hair, making it hard to keep your eyes open. “I'll be right there with you, so no need to get anxious.”

“Okay...” Noticing you're a little thirsty, you roll your eyes as you get up. “I need water. Do you want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“I'll be right back.” Crawling out of the bed, you make your way downstairs, straight to the kitchen. You hear low voices, so you walk slower, making sure you won't interrupt anything. When you get there, you see it's Diana and Barry, who's eating your ice cream. “Hey, guys,” you announce yourself.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Diana says as Barry waves with the spoon.

“You know this ice cream is mine, right?” Raising an eyebrow, you try to look mad. It apparently works because he gives an apologetic look and lowers the spoon.

“Sorry.” He mutters as you walk around the island, getting a spoon for yourself, sitting beside him and starting to eat too.

“Relax. It seems that I have to share now.” You keep the sarcastic tone, but Barry still doesn't seem to understand. “I'm joking. You can eat it, it's just ice cream.” You smile when he starts eating again. “Don't you want some, Diana?”

“No, thank you.” She raises the mug she's holding. “I usually just drink some tea before going to sleep.”

“Yeah. I just eat. I need a lot of calories.” Barry says with his mouth full of ice cream. “What about you?”

“Actually I just came to get some water. Bruce is waiting for me upstairs.” You forgot about the water, but now you feel thirsty again, so you get a glass and head to the fridge.

“You guys sleep together?” He asks.

“Barry.” Diana reprimands him, and that makes you giggle a little.

“We share the bed.” Shrugging your shoulders, you speak as you pour some cold water on the glass, closing the fridge and making your way back to where you were seated. “I have... Nightmares. They were more often before, but they still come. But when I'm with Bruce it's just... It's better.” You feel safe, secure, but you're too shy to tell them that. It's too much that you're telling about the nightmares, but it's a good sign that you're able to open up, even if it's just a little bit.

“You love Bruce, don't you?” Diana asks in a low voice.

Looking down at your half-full glass of water, you nod. Love isn't the word you use to express your feelings for Bruce, but that's just because you're way too scared to let those three words flow out. ‘I love you.’ You've been biting your tongue for quite a while now. Those words hold power, you know it, and you're scared that he doesn't feel the same way. “Don't tell him,” you beg, looking up at Diana.

“Why?” As she asks, Barry takes the ice cream and gets up, leaving the kitchen.

“Girl talk.” He mumbles on his way out. And yes, you feel a little more comfortable knowing it's just Diana.

“Because maybe it's too soon and... If he doesn't feel the same I'm afraid it'll push him away.” Your feelings for Bruce only grow, and even though being in love with someone is something new, you know how things should play out. Or you think you do. The fact that he's Batman and you're Havoc, a villain he tried to catch before, only makes everything worse.

“I know Bruce. He would never officialize a relationship if he wasn't one hundred and ten percent sure of his feelings.” She moves from her place at the table to seat across from you on the island. “And I understand that what you did before may get in the way but it only makes me even more sure about his feelings towards you. So yes, I think he loves you and there's no reason for you to be so scared.”

Taking a deep breath, you try to accept that. “How could he love me?” You inquire in a low voice because you can't help but go back, to remember who you were and what you did. You do regret it, and you do want different things now, to have a whole new life. But... Sometimes the fear of losing Bruce hits hard, and you start going back to your shell.

“Why don't you let me answer that?” His voice makes you jump, and you stand up abruptly. Your heart beats so fast that you can hear it on your ears, like drums.

“I'll get some sleep. Good night, (Y/N). Bruce.” Diana stands up and leaves the kitchen, as you stand there, looking at Bruce.

“You weren't supposed to hear any of that,” you mumble.

“But I'm glad I did. Let's head upstairs. We need to talk.” Nodding, you start following Bruce. “I need to make things clear with you, sweetheart.”

@fionanovasleftnut @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

#bruce wayne #imagine bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #ben affleck batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #imagine batman #justice league imagine

77 notes · View notes

eryiss · 4 years

Text

Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp

Ship: Fraxus (Freed Justine x Gajeel Redfox)

Prompts: Gamble, Balance, Thirst, Quarrel Accident

Verse: Victorian AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s my sixth group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ month. You can read rest in the master list linked above. Again, this is set in the victorian era, and has some minor period typical values. Nothing graphic, but be wanred of suggestions of a less accepting time. Also, the thirst prompt has sexual undertones. There’s only kissing, but you might want to skip it if that’s not your thing.

Day Twenty-Six – Gamble (On Yourself)

Gajeel had taken far too many gambles today.

It had been a gamble to cut through the docking area of Magnolia where many people got mugged, even despite his intimidating style. It had been a gamble to let his workmates know he wouldn't be at home, as that might allow questions to begin as to where he would spend the evening. It had been a gamble to even look towards the establishment that he had just entered. Tonight had been a night filled with gambles.

The building looked… normal. Pretty much like every other bar that Gajeel had patronised in his life. For the unknowing, this might have been just a regular tavern. But The Guild – or more colloquially referred to as Fairy Tail – was no such bar.

It was a bathhouse.

A place for men of Gajeel's persuasion to meet in safety. It was filled with all sorts of peoples, and acted as a safe heaven for them all. Men interested in buggery, those who rejected the gender they were born into, and those who didn't conform to what society wanted of them in some other capacity. It was Gajeel's first time in such a place and, despite knowing that he had more in common with the patrons of this bar than any other he'd been in, he felt incredibly out of place. Like a stranger, looking upon something that he shouldn't have seen.

He slowly approached the bar, unaware if the feeling of being watched was justified or not. He was regretting coming here already; he could have stayed home or drunk at a more common bar. He shouldn't have let Laxus tell him of such a place, or convince him to even think about going there.

Fairy Tail wasn't only a bathhouse. There were rooms available for renting upstairs should two men need them, but it was by no means a requirement. It was just a bar where you could be yourself. Laxus had said Gajeel would enjoy himself.

"Hello sir," A woman behind the bar greeted when he got close. "What can I get for you?"

"Erm," Gajeel mumbled, not wanting to be seen. "What d'ya have."

"Oh we have lots to chose from," The woman smiled, speaking patiently. "Anything any other bars have. Beer, ale, lager, wines, champagne if you're so inclined. And, between you and me, I've been practicing my cocktails and I'm getting rather good at them. So anything you might want, I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate."

"Beer, ma'am," Gajeel requested. The woman nodded, and Gajeel took a seat at the bar.

The woman got to work on pouring Gajeel's drink into a tankard, and the man kept his eyes straight on the bartop. He was just coming here out of curiosity and because he had let Laxus get into his head. Too busy trying to look inconspicuous, he failed to notice the man who had walked into the bar and sat beside him with a considerably greater amount of confidence when compared to Gajeel himself. It was only when he spoke that Gajeel realised he wasn't alone.

"A glass of my regular please Mirajane, my dear," A smooth, refined voice said, and Gajeel glanced to his side.

The man beside him was clearly wealthy, as portrayed by his fancy clothing and clean fingernails. When Gajeel glanced up he saw a head of long, silky green hair and a strong jawline. A gentleman then. Looking up further, Gajeel saw striking eyes and an expression of contentment.

At that moment, he was pretty much everything Gajeel was not.

"Give me a moment Freed," The barmaid, Mirajane, commented as she finished Gajeel's drink. "This gentleman got here first."

"And I don't get preferential treatment for being here so often?"

"Driving away my customers? You're lucky you're not charged extra," Mirajane laughed.

The man, Freed, seemed to enjoy the joke at his expense. It appeared that the contrast of Gajeel's discomfort and Freed's easy and relaxed nature seemed to have been noticed by the richer man, who looked to Gajeel with an expression of quiet intrigue. In response, Gajeel turned down and looked towards the top of the bar again, trying not to allow himself to be pinned by the sharp expression of the man beside him.

He couldn't help but squirm slightly. It wasn't often than he was around men with his fondness for the same sex. Well, there was Laxus, but neither man had interest in the other. But Freed, in his slight nobility and smooth voice, was the type of man that Gajeel enjoyed.

In theory at least, in reality the man looking at him made him squirm.

"I think you could only look more uncomfortable if a crocodile was threatening to bite off your toes," The man said to Gajeel, smiling softly. "First time in a place like this?"

"That obvious?" Gajeel asked, looking back to Freed and cupping the beer he's been given.

"It was either that or you're a copper who drew the short straw, and has to come here undercover and you're scared of anyone getting within a foot of you," Freed laughed at his own joke, and Gajeel let out a single chuckle. "With my experience, the police are much too boring to allow a man like yourself in their ranks."

"What d'you mean by that?" Gajeel asked, slightly offended.

"You have a rough beauty to you, sir. From what I've seen, any individuality is whipped out of you and replaced by a baton and a badge," Freed smiled, and Gajeel found himself speechless at the compliment. He had never once been called beautiful, never expected that to happen either. "Freed Justine, a pleasure to meet you."

"Gajeel," He introduced himself, delighted he didn't stammer over the word. He didn't say his surname; that was a gamble he wasn't going to take.

"Oh," Mirajane interrupted. "You must be Laxus friend, he mentioned that you might come by and I'm to look after you. I should have known."

"He thinks I need looking after?" Gajeel grunted, squaring his shoulders a little.

"No. Those weren't his words," Mirajane was quick to correct him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gajeel could see Freed smiling amusedly at the situation. "It's just he mentioned that you might not be used to places like this, and I know that they can be a little intimidating for new people. He just wanted me to keep an eye on you, make sure it didn't overwhelm you or that someone unknowingly made you uncomfortable."

"Oh," Gajeel mumbled. "Well, you don't need to put yourself to any trouble. I can look after myself."

"And if not, I'm sure I can look after our new friend," Freed smiled, before whispering. "Miss Strauss, though a kind woman, is rather a gossip. Harmlessly so, she enjoys knowing things rather than telling them, but she can be rather vicious when she wants to find something out."

"I can hear you," Mirajane stated, her voice less melodic now.

"Thus proving my point, don't you think," Freed smirked, and Mirajane glared at him. "Attend to your customers, dear, I'll keep him company," He then looked to Gajeel. "If you'll have me, of course."

Gajeel reddened slightly. "Ain't got any objections."

After that, Mirajane decided to leave them alone, and the two men began to speak. Gajeel didn't know if it was purposeful, but the conversation never once approached the reason why Gajeel was there. No speak of relationships, identity, or lovers. It started off about the best kind of drink – Freed fighting for wine, Gajeel for beer – which then divulged into what both men did for a living. Then, they just talked about nothing.

And it was good. Gajeel had never really had a conversation in a bar before. Men didn't speak in the bars he usually went to. Men drank, smoke, and sometimes made hopeless advancements on women. This was rather an improvement.

Freed was pretty good company, too. He was interesting, and perhaps the most handsome man Gajeel had laid eyes on. Rather destructively, Gajeel had a fondness for men above his station. Freed was that, most definitely. Refined, well spoken, obviously wealthy too if he was as successful in his career in law as he stated.

"Tell me, Gajeel," Freed said suddenly, finishing his wine. "Have you ever kissed a man before?"

"Erm," Gajeel blanked. The topic had come from nowhere. "Guess not."

"Shame," Freed smiled pleasantly. Seductively? Maybe Gajeel was thinking too deeply about the conversation though. "Would you like to?"

"E-excuse me?" Gajeel stammered. People weren't so forward, particularly when they were speaking about committing a crime. An unfair crime, but a crime none the less.

"Would you like me to kiss you," Freed grinned a little. "You're my type, and I think I might be yours. And I'm rather good at it."

"I mean… is that-" Gajeel was suddenly overwhelmed by the situation.

He hadn't come here to meet a man, or act on his impulses. It was just meant to be a place where Gajeel didn't have to look over his shoulder, and to perhaps drink with men with the same fondness that he had. A safe space, essentially. He hadn't expected anyone to pay any interest to him, let alone a man that would tick off the boxes of Gajeel's perfect man. He had no idea how to deal with such a situation.

Luckily, Freed did. The man reached over, took Gajeel's chin in his fingers, and engaged him in his first kiss.

And it was euphoria.

~~~

Day Twenty-Seven – Balance (And Adjustments)

Freed had always managed to keep his life well balanced.

He had put a lot of effort into forging a strong and reliable career that afforded him a more luxurious lifestyle than most. He had a small group of good friends who had allowed him the social interactions he needed, but also understood that sometimes he needed space alone. He had many hobbies that he often kept up with, be that reading, translations of old languages, or the investigation of antiques. These three aspects of his life were all he had needed, and he'd made sure to give them all the time they required.

With this balance, Freed had been happy. There hadn't been anything obviously missing in his life, nor was there a sense of melancholy. The life he had created for him had been satisfactory. But, with the inclusion of Gajeel, something more had been added.

And that something was threatening to throw this balance off.

Gajeel was unique in Freed's life, in almost every way. He was of a lower class and rough around the edges, something that Freed enjoyed greatly. He was more open with his opinions, lacking the middle class fear of insulting people. He was also more willing to take risks than Freed often allowed himself to be, the brashness of his personality invading Freed's life in a delightful way. It was as if someone had taken a jaw-droppingly handsome hammer to Freed's existence, with the intention of building up something new in its place.

But would this new thing be better, or worse? It was a question that Freed found himself pondering silently as he walked down the road towards his modestly comfortable home, with Gajeel at his side.

The two men had been on a few dates at this point. Well, they had drunk together and shared a single meal, but it was the closest thing two men could get to dating. So far, Freed had kept his interactions with Gajeel limited to these meetings. He was keeping the man at arm's length, because he didn't know if he could risk Gajeel getting closer to him.

But that night, Freed might have changed his mind.

They'd gone to a bar of Gajeel's choosing, which was considerably rougher than anywhere Freed went. They had done almost what they always did, drinking at a bar in the same way friends would. But when, after both got slightly tipsy, drinks had been placed before them, Gajeel had offered a challenge. He bet Freed a tuppence that he could finish his pint before Freed could.

And in that moment, Gajeel was the most attractive man Freed had ever laid eyes on. With a cocky smirk, challenging Freed to a competition, he was irresistible. He had a slightly crook in his nose, his sharp teeth visible, and his piercings glinting in the candle light. If it were acceptable, Freed would have jumped on him then and there.

But he didn't. Instead, he drank. And then he started to think.

They'd shared a few kisses in the seclusion of a dark alley, but that was it. Again, Freed had stopped it before anything further could happen, and it was all because he didn't want to upset the balance of his life. He had spent a lot of time creating a stable existence for himself, and Gajeel posed a threat to it. And now he had to decide if he was willing to risk it. To allow the balance to be upended and recreated with Gajeel in it.

He had to decide weather to invite him in his home, or leave him at the gate again.

Even thinking about it, his gut supplied the answer. Let him in. Gajeel was everything that Freed could have dreamt of, if he was honest. Fun, competitive, cheeky, creative, heartfelt, honest. And he wasn't just looking to take Freed to some secluded room and bed him, he genuinely seemed like he wanted a relationship. That was rare, and Freed shouldn't throw it away.

"Yer awful quiet suddenly," Gajeel commented. "Still pouting about losing?"

"No," Freed laughed. "And I still maintain you distracted me on purpose," Gajeel cackled at that. "Running your thigh against mine is a rather nasty trick."

"Doesn't mean ya don't have ta pay up, does it?" Gajeel smirked.

"I could drink you under the table with a higher quality wine," Freed rebutted, faux glaring while he tried to supress a laugh. This was something Gajeel had already done to him, allowed a more juvenile delight enter his every day life. That was definitely something that Freed wasn't ready to get rid of.

"You wanna take me to some fancy bar and prove it, fine by me," Gajeel crossed his arms, and Freed could see his arms flexing under the fabric of his clothes. "But yer paying."

"You certainly know how to get a drink out of me," Freed commented sardonically.

Gajeel laughed, and pat him on the shoulder with a little amount of strength. That was something that he did often, and Freed had concluded that it was his alternative to a romantic gesture. They couldn't very well hold hand in the middle of the street, after all, so a masculine pat on the back would have to do. When the thought struck him, Freed had to wonder what Gajeel's hands would feel like. Callous and rough no doubt. Rather delightful sounding.

It was then that Freed realised just how ridiculous was being.

He was thinking about what the other man's hands would feel like in his own. He couldn't pretend that this was platonic, nor could be delude himself into thinking this was two men who would eventually use each other for satisfaction.

He wasn't just attracted to Gajeel sexually. There was a romantic feeling too.

Worst still, Freed realised just how patient the other man was being with him. Freed had been the one to instigate the whole damn thing, and at first he had held off getting too far with him because Gajeel was inexperienced. But they weren't just strangers at a bar anymore, they were friends. They were comfortable around each other, and if the suggestive comments Gajeel had started to make were reflective of how he felt, Gajeel was willing to become lovers. And so was Freed, so why the hell was he putting things off?

To keep some sort of balance. What was the point in that? He wasn't keeping himself safe, he was allowing himself to stagnate. If he didn't take a step forward with Gajeel, then he never would. And his comfortable, balanced life would be all he had. And, right now, he wanted a bit of adventure.

"Taking you to a bar seems counter-intuitive," Freed continued, a sudden rush of adrenaline pushing him forward. "I've rather a well-stocked liquor cabinet right here. I can prove my point to you now, if you'd like."

Gajeel faltered a little, looking towards Freed's house as they stopped at the gate before it. He had walked Freed home after each of their dates, as the street was part of his walk home, but had never been invited in before. He glanced at the building, then at Freed, and grinned.

"You wanna be humiliated in yer own home, that's your choice," Gajeel grinned.

Then, as if it were natural, Freed found himself opening the gate to his home and walking down the path. Gajeel followed him, and an electric drumming of anticipation and excitement flowed through him. As he put the key in the lock, he wondered why he had taken so long to let this happen.

And once the door was closed, and Gajeel was pushing him against a wall with his lips, any thoughts of balance left him completely.

~~~

Day Twenty-Eight – Thirst (Of A Nobleman)

Anybody else would just think that Freed had been particularly thirsty. Nobody would have even noticed just how much Freed had been drinking throughout the day, and if they actually had, they would've just assumed that he needed a drink. There was no chance of anyone realising the actual reason that Freed had been continually drinking flute after flute of champagne throughout the afternoon.

Freed also hoped that Gajeel didn't know the reason for his apparent thirst. He would be intolerably smug when he realised it was because of him.

Weeks prior, Freed had been invited to attend a party at a nearby manor house owned by the Dreyar family. Being close with the son of the family, Freed had also gotten Gajeel an invitation. His lover would be there under the guise of a possible business partner that Freed needed to impress. Only the Dreyar's themselves knew that Gajeel was Freed's lover, so the excuse was needed.

And with such an excuse, Gajeel needed a change of clothes.

The man, being an ironmonger, didn't have many luxurious pieces of clothing, and had needed to go to the tailors so the lie of him being a businessman could be believable. Freed had through nothing of it as he'd sent the man to his tailor, expecting him to come back in something more similar to what Freed often worn. He had thought that Gajeel would have some clothes of a nicer fabric and more modern stylings, and that was it.

He hadn't expected the outfit to be so… flattering.

Of course, flattering wasn't the word that came to mind when he first saw Gajeel wearing it. Freed's immediate impressions were that it was gorgeous, gentlemanly, and, importantly, tight. Tight enough to encourage a rush of blood to swell Freed's groin.

And throughout the afternoon, Gajeel had been wearing the outfit. It was a test of patience for Freed rivalling torture, and the man believed he deserved a damn medal for not insisting they find an unused room in the house and buggering the man against the wall like a pair of animals. The urge had been there throughout the entire day, and Freed had only managed to keep his hands off his lover by busying them with something else.

Namely, drinking.

It had been a hellishly difficult task. The formal clothes had been measured to fit snugly around Gajeel, highlight his strong physique. His biceps bulged in his sleeves, his chest was pronounced in his shirt and coat, and his riding trousers had been so damn tight Freed could see the musculature that made up his thigs through them. Freed would have to have a word with his tailor, perhaps docking him some pay for making his balls blue.

What was worse, Gajeel himself had taken to the outfit perfectly. Well, in a sense. He didn't play the part of an aristocrat, but as someone who had fallen into money but stuck to his workman roots. The juxtaposition of the man's luxury against his rough and common personality had an effect on Freed he couldn't quantify.

Forget a medal. Freed deserved compensation for being so patient.

And Gajeel had more torture for Freed yet. Once the party was over, and they had returned to Freed's home, Gajeel had delivered a final blow. He shucked off his jacket and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Now a tantalising vision of his hair covered chest was peeking out, and Freed felt his sanity slipping away.

"Scoundrel," Freed muttered to himself, not expecting Gajeel to hear.

"What?" Gajeel asked, and Freed looked up to see he was grinning.

Freed's breath caught in his lungs. Gajeel was sitting in the armchair that Freed often read at, lounging over the leather with the smuggest expression on his face. His legs were spread wide, and Freed was given clear clarification that Gajeel hadn't worn a codpiece. His arms were bulging in his sleeves and, finally, Freed realised that the bastard knew what effect he had on his lover, and had been making it worse.

"I called you a scoundrel," Freed said again, glaring. Gajeel grinned. "You… you bloody well did all of that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Don't know what you mean," Gajeel grinned. He didn't even try to be convincing. "I just asked for my clothes to be tight cause I like the feeling."

"You… you-" The words wouldn't come to Freed. Gajeel sauntered over to his lover, smirking.

"I thought this party was gonna be full of stuffy asshats, I needed to have a little fun," He grinned, standing over Freed. He leant down, took the glaring man's chin in his fingers and leant closer. "I've never seen a nobleman so thirsty before. The sun must have been getting to ya. Only thing that makes sense, given how hot and sweaty you were lookin'."

"You will regret doing this," Freed muttered, eyes hard. The looming presence of his gorgeous lover above him was starting to take an effect, however. "I will make damn sure of that."

"I'm scared," Gajeel chuckled. "If it makes ya any less angry, I wanted ta jump on ya just as much."

Before Freed could say anything, Gajeel leant down and brought their lips together in a heated and passionate kiss. Freed returned it within an instant, running a hand over Gajeel's strong arms and feeling the muscles flexing over the fabric. He grabbed the collar of the man's shirt and tugged on it sharply, making the man collapse into his lap. The kiss continued as he did so.

"I very much doubt it," Freed snapped against Gajeel's lips.

Gajeel cackled, pressing himself further against Freed as they kissed against the chair. When he felt Freed's hands roaming under his shirt, unbuttoning it without elegance nor patience, he grinned into the kiss. Freed pinched his skin in retort, and Gajeel laughed. He would have to make his nobleman 'thirsty' more often, it seemed.

~~~

Day Twenty-Nine – Quarrel (And The Aftermath)

Gajeel had been homeless before, he could do it again.

It wasn't an ideal situation, but he would get by. Just because he had got used to the luxury of living in Freed's cosy household didn't mean his street smarts had been removed. He had spent just shy of a year on the streets, and he'd made it through well enough, he just had to do it again. It wouldn't be anywhere near as comfortable as his life had been with Freed, but that was okay. He could tough it out until his situation got better.

He'd already found a good spot; under a canal bridge, close to an inn that Gajeel knew from experience would hand out scraps of uneaten food. And he had a trunk of clothing to keep him warm, which was better than what he'd had before. The trunk wasn't his, but Freed probably wouldn't miss it.

Freed. Gajeel felt a little sick when he thought of the man.

They had engaged in an argument in the morning. It was initiated by the most ridiculous of things; Freed had thrown a piece of fruit away that was bordering on rotten. Gajeel claimed it was a waste, Freed said that he wasn't going to eat spoiled food when it wasn't necessary. Somehow, this had devolved into a petty but nasty argument between them both about Freed's middle class upbringing and the contrast against Gajeel's own childhood. It had reached it's nastiest when Gajeel had claimed that Freed was a spoiled bastard without a grasp on reality.

The argument had been left there, as Freed had stormed out to go to work. Gajeel had festered in his anger for a while, before he realised what this argument had meant. He had been living in Freed's home for months, and the man was his landlord. It was unlikely that he would be allowed to remain after their fight.

So he had packed a trunk of his clothes and his items that he could sell, and left.

It was a bad day to do it, as well. The rain was heavy, and the dark clouds made Gajeel think that thunder and perhaps even lightning was coming. But he wrapped himself up in the large coat Freed had gotten him for his birthday, trying to ignore the irony that he was taking comfort in something of Freed's despite the fact he had left the mans home.

The more he thought about their argument, the queasier it made him feel. They had grown up in different ways, but that didn't mean Freed was a bad person. He was a criminal lawyer; he knew the struggles people went through better than most. Gajeel had just been angry – and perhaps embarrassed – that he hadn't been afforded the same luxuries that others had. But Freed wasn't to blame, and he had never been patronising about the difference in their lifestyles.

"Shit," Gajeel sighed, fingers tapping against the battered leather of the trunk he was sitting on. "Really fucked that up, didn't ya."

But it was too late now. Freed was a prideful man and – while Gajeel enjoyed that side of his personality – it was unlikely he would sit back after being insulted. Gajeel should have just kept his insecurities to himself. His stupid pride had lost him his home and his lover.

Leaning against the wall of the bridge, he allowed his eyes to close and was consumed by sleep.

He didn't know how long he had slept for, but when he felt a shaking on his shoulder and woke up again, it was now late enough for the stars to be out. He blinked groggily to see who had woken him, and saw that it was Freed, looking at him with a face of concern.

"How the hell d'you find me?" Gajeel asked, voice croaking.

"I spoke to Laxus, he told me of a few placed you could be, one being here," Freed explained. "Why aren't you at home, Gajeel?"

"Assumed you didn't want me there," Gajeel shrugged; it was obvious, he thought. "Guys don't normally like it when their shagging partner insults them. Thought it was best to leave before you came back."

Freed gave Gajeel a look of many emotions. It started off confused, flickered to annoyance for a moment, and then settled on resignation. He shifted slightly, moving so that he could join Gajeel on the trunk he was sitting on, looking out over the canal that was lit by stars. Gajeel frowned at the action, looking at his lover – ex-lover now, most likely – not understanding his actions.

"You're not just the man I sleep with, Gajeel," Freed said softly.

"Sure," Gajeel scoffed.

"I mean it," He spoke more firmly now. "I understand that a relationship like ours isn't the most conventional, but that doesn't mean it's any less valid. I don't want you to just be my lover – just someone who I know who I can take to bed – I want you to be my partner," He smiled at Gajeel, and looked beautiful. "I love you, Gajeel."

"You do?" Gajeel almost froze at the statement.

"Yes. I have never seen us just as people who can settle the others urges. I've seen you as my partner, the man who, if I could, I would marry," Freed admitted, and Gajeel felt a surge of emotions flow through him. Freed spoke again before he could understand them. "And I think you feel the same way. You've just denied it because it makes leaving easier."

At Freed's conclusion, Gajeel realised he was right. They weren't just having fun with each other, they shared emotions and feelings. They had courted and moved into a home together. Gajeel hadnt allowed himself to think of it that way, but of course that was what they had done.

"Shit," Gajeel mumbled. "I-I love you too."

"Quite so," Freed grinned, and Gajeel nudged him. "And, I'm sure you know, people in relationships often argue. It doesn't mean that one of them moves out and make themselves homeless."

"You don't want me gone?" Gajeel asked.

"Of course not," Freed assured him, smiling. "We will have arguments, of course we will. But, as people in love often do, we just need to get past them. Put aside our pride and come to a middle ground," Freed patted him on the thigh. "And I should apologise. I often disregard your childhood and how it has shaped you, and that's not fair. I shouldn't have been dismissive of what you said, and I shouldn't have gotten so defensive when you challenged me."

"No," Gajeel shook his head. "I shouldn't have made such a big deal about a fucking apple. And I called you a lot of nasty things that weren't appropriate."

"Well, some of them were. I was being rather a bastard," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel grinned slightly. "You have a sailor's mouth when you're angry, don't you?"

"Sorry," Gajeel chuckled.

"It's charming," Freed smiled, leaning against his lover with a soft smile. "We probably should have had a conversation like this before I stormed out, shouldn't we?"

"Probably," Gajeel agreed.

"Come home, Gajeel," Freed requested softly, and it made Gajeel feel warm inside.

Freed was his lover, his partner and his friend. This was something that Gajeel had never expected, and something that he held dear to him. They were good together, Gajeel had always known that, but hearing that his feelings were reciprocated was something that he hadn't thought would happen.

But now that it had, he felt damn idiotic for his actions. For leaving, as if it was an appropriate response. No, he and Freed were adults in a relationship, and they could work though their problems. That was a brilliant feeling.

"Okay."

~~~

Day Thirty – Accident (And Realisations)

It turned out it was true. Life really did flash before your eyes in a near death situation.

A mugging, that's what had caused it. Three men had cornered him in an alleyway, he removed his cane from his person and had started to beat him when he hadn't given them his wallet. He had put up a fight for a small amount of time, but the three of them were strong and outnumbered him. They were armed with impromptu weaponry and had thrashed the fight out of him, leaving him to die most likely.

As he had slowly lost consciousness as blood trickled from his wounds, his mind had supplied a stream of images from his life. Leaving for boarding school for the first time, riding a horse without help, his first dalliance with a farm-boy in a barnyard.

Then Gajeel had entered the stream of memories, and had dominated the experience. He remembered the first time they had met, their first kiss, their first night together, the first time Freed had confessed his love for the man. Smaller things to, like the cocky grin he had when he was issuing Freed some kind of wager, or the nights spent in their shared living room, reading or talking by the fire. Small moments of their relationship that Freed found himself adoring on reflection.

He passed out soon after.

Waking up in an unfamiliar room was disconcerting, and the pain flooding his body was vicious and unrepentant. He hissed at the sensation, and tried to distract himself somehow. The strong hands gripping his own were a good way to do that.

When he looked up, he saw a pleasant looking room. He adjusted his eyes at the open window and saw a street lit by the morning son; the street was familiar, but he was in a part of it that he didn't know. After a few moments he realised this was the same road he lived on, but a different house. Most likely, given the pain he was in, Porlyusica's house; a retired nurse that lived about three homes down from Freed.

But none of that was particularly important when compared to the fact that Gajeel was holding his hand.

He didn't seem to notice that Freed was awake, and it gave the injured man time to smile slightly. Gajeel had always been more cautious about being intimate in public than Freed – the lawyer had enough blackmail on London Police that they wouldn't go near him – so to have him openly touch him in a place not their home was a rather nice feeling. The feeling was soured when he realised why Gajeel was doing it; he was probably worried for him.

"Gajeel," Freed said, voice hoarse. It felt as though his throat were sandpaper.

"Freed," The mans head shot up, his voice tired and slightly croaky as well. "Fuck, how long have you been awake. Shit, here," He reached for a glass of water and handed it to Freed.

"Thank you," Freed smiled as he drank.

"You feeling okay. Course yer not," Gajeel cussed at himself. "Can I do anything for ya?"

"I don't think so," Freed shifted slightly as he sat up against the headboard. "Have you been here all night?"

"Couple nights. Would have been here longer but the old witch sent me away," Gajeel glared at a door, but Freed frowned.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Six days," Gajeel said quietly, and it was clear to see that the other man had been worrying for the entire time. Freed gently ran his thumb across the palm of Gajeel's hand in a comforting gesture, and his lover tightened his grip. "What happened?"

"I was leaving my office. Some men wanted money; I didn't give it to them. I'm sure you can guess the rest," Freed sighed, looking at the expression of worry on his lover's face. "I'm okay, Gajeel. I'm alive, and I'm sure that the pain is only temporary. You really needn't worry."

"Should have walked you home or something," Gajeel muttered, and Freed sighed.

"You weren't to know," He said comfortingly. "Has it been a long week for you, without my charming company to keep you busy?"

Gajeel laughed, albeit forcefully. Freed leant over and pressed his head against Gajeel's softly, as close to a kiss that they could do in anywhere slightly public. Gajeel nuzzled into the gesture, and Freed expected that the man would join him in the bed and wrap him in his arms if possible. Gajeel had always seemed to enjoy touch, be it holding hands, kissing, or even just pressing his side against Freed's as they sat next to each other. Perhaps it made things feel real for the man; Freed wasn't going to complain whatever the reason.

"Done a lot of thinkin'" Gajeel admitted. "I ain't ready to lose ya."

"I'm not going anywhere," Freed assured him softly, stroking his hand again.

"Better fuckin' not be," Gajeel said firmly, but was smiling, and it warmed Freed's heart just a little. "Because, well, one of the things I was thinking of was…"

Freed frowned a little when he looked at Gajeel. The man may not be the most blessed when it came to words, but that wasn't what was stopping him. He was nervous about something. That was defiantly unlike Gajeel, he was a headstrong man who often thought before he acted; sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. He didn't say anything though, letting Gajeel think before he spoke again.

"Couple months ago, you said you'd marry if you could," Gajeel eventually said. "And, I realised that I'd marry you too. So, well."

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small box, which he flipped open. A simple plain ring rested inside of it, and Freed looked at it with shock as Gajeel shifted so that he was on one knee. Freed forgot the pain his body was in, looking at the piece of jewellery with wide eyes. Gajeel gave him a shockingly hopeful smile.

"I know we can't… I mean legally it won't be…" Gajeel glanced down in annoyance of himself. "I love ya, Freed. And I wanna spend the rest of my life with ya, and I was scared that I would be able to for a while. And I know we can't go it in a church, or get it done legit, but I wanna be yer husband. I wanna get married to ya. So, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Freed grinned. "Oh fuck yes."

#ftlgbtpride2020 #gajeed #freed justine #Gajeel Redfox #freed x Gajeel #fanfic #fairy tail #writing #one shot #event

10 notes · View notes

doctordaddysir · 4 years

Note

Hello, I'm pretty sad rn. My daddy said he's been feeling distant and I have reassured him I'm here for him. But, sometimes I don't hear from him at all for a day or two...or if we do text, he only sends a good morning text and that's it. I don't want to blow up his phone with messages. He's gotten better these past few weeks but now he's playing video games most of the time. He says he misses me, but I don't know if I should believe him or not.

Well I'll start by saying that we are in some trying times right now with COVID-19 affecting much of the world. We all seem to think Doms are huge confident macho never worry about a thing men, when in reality we have the same fears and worries as everyone else.

My example is right now I am partially furloughed and not working at all because most elective surgeries around the country are being cancelled. I'm home every day with my kids who are also out of school. It has affected me and my psyche a lot when it comes to being a Dom. Not being able to get out, travel for work, etc takes its toll on me. It can affect my normal daily communications and I tend to get inside my own head overthinking stuff. This makes me distant too.

There's a chance that's exactly what's happening with him. It's not an excuse, and not talking for a day or two isn't acceptable, but if he's been really good at it before and just now seems to have this issue then maybe give him a bit of time, keep reassuring him you're there, and above all Else don't disappear too. Message him more than you have been, do t worry about "bombarding" him. Chances are the more you let him know you're there the more he will realize he's doing a disservice to you.

Be honest. Tell him you are worried, tell him you're sad, tell him you need more interaction. He won't know without over communication, especially if he's in his head. Tell him in no uncertain terms how you feel, and what you need or want to fix it.

As far as the video games, if it happens to be the new animal crossing, it's very addictive so I can't fix that one 🤣🤣🤣. No seriously, tell him your concerns without hesitation. Don't attack, don't be rude, but tell him exactly how you feel and that you think there is an issue to be fixed.

Communication. That's always the answer.

Edit:. I bolded a line for a reason. The key is if he's usually been really good and is just suddenly distant then something has caused it and hopefully he will let you in to find out what it is. Normally my message would be simple, it's unacceptable, and it really is, however there is a lot going on out in the world right now and it effecting people in different ways. He could just be withdrawing from stress and concern about all of this crap happening. You won't know unless you ask. This is one instance I think it's worth NOT jumping to a conclusion if this is atypical of his normal self.

18 notes · View notes

scripttorture · 7 years

Note

So, I have a plotbunny where what happens to the MC functionally = partial(?) Solitary Confinement, but it's a little odd so I'd like your thoughts to see if I'm on a realistic track? MC (16yo girl) voluntarily agrees to "give her life" to a supernatural being to save her mother. However, classic Fairy Logic applies - she THINKS she'll die or disappear, but it's actually "you must devotedly guard this isolated magical place". What this amounts to is a situation I'll detail in more Asks...?(1/7)

2/7) So, MC thinks then that she'll be obligated to do this forever/rest of her life, in order to save/protect her mother. She's compassionate/strongly attached to her loved ones, so keeping BOTH her parents from suffering from what would happen to Mom is "worth it" to her (note: effectively there is also another "her" who is their kid. The parents don't realize a "version" of her is doing this, so they're blissfully ignorant too). This gives her a Purpose automatically, but it definitely (...)(3/7) changes what she thought she was resigned to. The (humanoid) entity she's serving does spend time with her each day, including gentle touch, and leaves its familiars (two very friendly big cats) with her always, but it does leave her by herself for long periods (hours at a time), and she is forbidden from leaving without permission and even when one of her friends winds up finding the place, she's not allowed to admit to them it's really her/have proper contact with them. However (...)(4/7) Shortly after that, she is told that it was never intended to be permanent - it was for "a year and a day" - a test, which she's just passed. So, she is abruptly told she can/should "go home", when she thought she would be there indefinitely. She winds up with a version of her family who have lost their version of her. They know she's an alt-universe version, but to them, she's so similar to their kid, and anyway, "biologically her twin", that they feel emotionally attached to her (...)(5/7) + they empathize with/feel responsible for her, especially as she's still so young + they're horrified to learn she was apparently "alone" (or at least without her loved ones/normal contact) for so long. They immediately accept her as their kid, and she can't help but see them as the "same" people, so she's drawn to the idea of being adopted/with them but, obviously the whole thing is kind of traumatic and weird for her - and this is what I'm wanting to run by you? So far, I have her (...)(6/7) struggling to adjust to the sudden shift in routines (they try to send her back to normal school, which feels "noisy" and "chaotic" to her; she puts up with it b/c she "has to", but winds up "spacey and distracted" [dissociating] during some of her classes, and struggles with focus on academic material); being twitchy/hypervigilant (she reduces her anxiety by always plotting physical exits and practicing kata every morning/evening); having poor sleep/trouble falling asleep/nightmares (...)(7/7) + suffering anxiety/self-doubt, questioning whether these versions of her loved ones really accept her or if they just feel obligated to pretend/secretly internally reject her or worse, see her as a daily reminder of the girl they lost and feeling pain that they're hiding from her. She also tries to pretend nothing is wrong when they ask how she's doing out of worry, b/c she doesn't want to "burden" anybody. Plausible - yes/no/maybe? (Also - sorry for the length of this, wow)

I actually really likelong asks. They tend to mean I have all the detail I need to give a proper,helpful answer. (They are a little intimidating but so satisfying once answered).Sorry it took so long to get this answered.

You’ve got a reallyinteresting scenario here and I think generally speaking it’s really plausible.

I always link to Shalev’sSourcebook when solitary comes up because it’s a brilliant free resource.

All of the thingsyou’ve hit on are possible symptoms of prolonged (ie over a week) solitaryconfinement. And they’re symptoms that can persist for a very long time afterrelease.

She should also showthese symptoms while she’s insolitary. You could write it asthough she had these symptoms but didn’t consciously notice most of them whileshe was acting as a guard. If she was spending most of her time alone or withanimals she might not necessarily have processed her dissociation, anxiety orhypervigilance as unusual.

People aren’t alwaysaware of the symptoms they have. Sometimes it takes interaction with others torealise that what’s happening isn’t ‘normal’. She may also have seen her symptoms as normal for her situation and expected them to stop instantly if she ever got out.

If the only human-likeinteraction she has is with a mythological creature (that from the sound ofthings doesn’t think or act like a human) well then she could potentially go ayear without realising these are symptoms. She’d feel them and she’d feel‘bad’, but she might not have the words to express them or think of them assomething that’s caused by her circumstances.

The interaction she haswith her ‘captor’ sounds as though it’s mostly positive and never violent. Thatwould help her hugely.

The main negative factor is her going throughthis thinking that she’ll be stuck there forever. It sounds as though she madepeace with that and accepted her fate. So suddenly being jerked out of thatsituation would be a helluva shock. And that would impact her symptoms.

Overall I think you’vegot a very solid scenario here, but there are two things I’d suggest adding toit.

The first is physicalsymptoms. Solitary does have a set of physical symptoms some of which may becaused by prison conditions but some are harder to pin down. The eye sightproblems Shalev lists may be causedby the conditions in the average solitary cell, which isn’t similar to her situation. But the headaches, joint aches and insomniaare harder to pin down. They could be applicable to her situation and thephysical symptoms of solitary confinement/isolation are rarely discussed infiction.

The second thing ismemory problems. Difficulty concentrating and learning are common in torturevictims and can persist for years after torture. I’d expect a noticeable dropin her grades if she returned to school. I’d also expect her to find learningand remembering information from her classes more difficult, and for that to befrustrating and perhaps stressful.

It’s the kind of thingthat feeds into a victim’s negative feelings about themselves, whether they‘belong’ in their community and their self worth. And since you seem to befocusing on that through her other mental health problems I think includingmemory problems could add to your story.

It sounds a lot likeyou’re exploring the social isolation victims can feel, or at least as thoughthe story could be heading there. I think that’s great because it’s notsomething we generally see in fiction. At least not from theinside.

Instead social isolation tends to be something victims are blamed for:either because their symptoms are deemed socially unacceptable (and thereforetheir fault) or because they’re not ‘trying hard enough’ to interact. The wayyou’ve used her symptoms to show whyshe feels out of place and how that can lead to further isolation is reallyvery good. And probably true to a lot of people’s experiences.

Some further points youmight want to consider-

How well known is thissort of magic in your setting? If your character doesn’t have to constantlyexplain what happened to her and if this sort of situation happens often enoughthat she’s believed that will helpher recovery a lot. But it will probably also affect how the people around herinteract with her. Do kids at school pester her, point her out in thecorridors, or want her to recount every detail of her ordeal?

Would the kind ofsacrifice you character made be regarded as exceptional, or would it be anexpected/proper show of familial devotion?

Would the people aroundher make any kind of allowances for her behaviour/experience? For example ifshe finds school noisy and chaotic would the other children talk more quietlyif she asked? If they do makeallowances would she be grateful or resent them as a reminder that she’s‘different’ and doesn’t fit in.

Arethere any other people who might have experienced something similar? Could shecommunicate with them? Mental illness is usually pretty scary but it’s a LOTscarier if you can’t recognise what’s happening to you. Being able tocommunicate with someone who could tell her that the anxiety, the hypervigilance,the (possible) memory problems are normalwould help her immensely. It would put these symptoms into context and enableher to recognise them as symptomsrather than something fundamentally ‘broken’ about herself.

Beingable to exchange coping strategies can also be hugely beneficial.

This is also going tobe hugely stressful for her parents who are probably trying very hard tosupport her, but may not know exactly what to do. My own family has generallybeen pretty shit about mental health so I have rather more examples of thingsthat don’t help than things that do.

One ‘normal’ thing thatstands out which could potentially have a huge negative effect is how theyrespond to her falling grades and the way she’s struggling at school.Approaching it as though she’s not working hard or trying could be hugelydamaging and feed into her doubts and anxiety.

I hope that helps.Generally I think it sounds like you’re doing really well. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #isolation #solitary confinement #psychological effects of torture #memory #physical symptoms of solitary #mental health #recovery #vorpalgirl

74 notes · View notes