#I also really really liked that initially he was going to be of frail health | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

animeyanderelover · 1 year

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What about platonic yandere Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive if they survive au? With reader who isekai'd from our world that miss her family?

I added their children in here too.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, manipulation, guilt-tripping, sabotage, clinginess, imprisonment

Isekai reader

🍓 🌓 Rachel's kindness is what saved you on that day where her husband and her children found you. A day where both her asthma and the asthma of her youngest child were better and the whole family was able to go outside. Strays and homeless aren't uncommon to be seen in the darkest streets of London or begging somewhere for money but it's the first time for both of their boys to see someone homeless. You're just sitting in one of the corners, ragged clothes hugging your form as you just sit there with dull and lifeless eyes. The youngest son sees you and approaches you with his childish curiosity, pities you. Vincent, slightly alarmed, is quick to follow him just in case. When his son asks you why you're sitting outside like this, he quickly hushes him and apologizes for the insensible question of his child. You just stare at him with a stoic expression before you look away. It's truly a pitiful sight to behold.

🍓 🌓 Pitiful enough to soften Rachel's heart as she realizes how young you are. She isn't able to go outside that much due to her health so she doesn't see how hard the life of people tends to be. She asks her husband if they can invite you for just one meal and her youngest son agrees as he also wants to do something good for you. Vincent and Ciel hesitate for a while but in the end can't reject the pleads of those two. You just trail quietly behind the family, don't speak much when Rachel and her son try to talk to you. Rachel respects that though, she doesn't know what you've gone through after all. You stop shortly before you arrive in front of their mansion, look at the place in a mix of awe and horror. You turn to them and ask them flabbergasted why they would let you inside, they've basically picked you up on the streets. Vincent reminds you coldly that this is only one time only to be interrupted by his wife who tells you kindly that she wants to help you at least a bit.

🍓 🌓 The servants look at you in shock but quickly comply when they hear what the wish of their mistress is. You are given a new set of clothes and are pushed to take a bath since you reek. Well, you haven't been able to take a good bath in quite a while. In the meantime Vincent questions Rachel if she's going to invite every homeless person over now but she is vehement to insist that she knows that she can't help every person who suffers. But she just couldn't ignore you, you looked so frail and lost. When you are led to the dining room, you grow slightly nervous to be in the presence of those people. Rachel compliments you for looking fine now that you wear fresh clothes and are cleaned. The meal you have is better than everything you've had since you've arrived here but despite that you mind your table manners since you're in the presence of nobles in here. You surprise Vincent a bit with that since you're far more mannered than he initially thought you'd be.

🍓 🌓 What really ends up shocking him is your educational level and your insight on certain things. You keep quiet throughout the whole meal, are far too ashamed to even look at this family. It isn't until Vincent and Ciel start a insightful conversation about something that perks your interest. All it really takes is one comment from you in regards of their conversation that suddenly earns you the earl's attention. You quickly apologize, terribly ashamed and embarrassed that you just butted into their conversation like this. But instead Vincent encourages you to join the discussion they have and even if you are more careful with your answers, he can clearly sense that you are smarter than you might let on. You know more than the basics in things like maths and physics and prove to have an educational level which not everyone has. Not to mention that you seem to be very insightful. It surprises him to discover just how knowledgeable you are.

🍓 🌓 The meal takes longer than intended which is mainly because your answers and guesses push Vincent to chat with you longer and the whole family joins in at one point. You definitely have their curiosity now which embarrasses and flatters you all together. When you've finally gotten to the end of it, you stand up and bow deeply, thank them for their hospitality and that you'll leave now. Instead Vincent tells you to stay here for a while longer since he wants to discuss something with Rachel. The children are sent to bed by the servants whilst you are led into a huge room where you sit down on the couch and just wait awkwardly. You feel terribly out of place. The couple returns after a while and before Vincent can even start to explain, Rachel asks you if you'd like to work for them. You just stare at both of them surprised and then your gaze turns to the earl. Didn't he tell you that you would leave as soon as the dinner would be over?

🍓 🌓 Vincent then explains to you that he wouldn't just take any stranger into his house and he'll certainly make sure that Rachel won't take every homeless person in. The only reason he's offering you such a position is because he thinks your knowledge would be wasted in the streets. He has a distinct feeling that you're special and he intends to trust his intuition on this one. You mull over their offer for a while with Rachel awaiting your answer eagerly. You don't have anywhere to go anyways and you have no idea if you can ever return. You should at least make sure that you have a roof over your head and can take care of your own life by having a job and earning money. Considering all of that makes your answer obvious. You agree and within the same night you're given a bed and a room which you have to share with some of the other maids. You're happy though that you finally can enjoy the comfort of a mattress, a pillow and a blanket again.

🍓 🌓 At first some of the servants are unsure how to feel about you since you're still someone who came from the streets. Vincent asks you sooner than expected about what exactly happened in your past, something Rachel chastises him for since he shouldn't push you. You have probably led a bad life so far. He should be more sensible and give you a bit more time. You just stare at him for a while and he can see in your eyes that you're reliving some bad memories right now. The only thing you tell both of them then is that you're entire family is gone and that you'll never be able to see them again. You ask Rachel after that if you can leave and she excuses you, apologizes to you for having to recall such sad memories. Vincent could dig deeper but knows that he probably should let it be, he has seen the pain in your eyes. He's still a bit curious to know where exactly you were taught so much.

🍓 🌓 Luckily you manage to blend in quickly with the rest of the servants who soon accept you. They see how hard you work and when they catch glimpses of your educational knowledge they understand why their earl offered you this place. You are always ready to help and are quick and willing to learn new tasks you apparently haven't done before. Rachel asks you almost every time how you're doing and if you've grown used to this place yet and her youngest son seems always eager to talk with you for a bit. Vincent and Ciel like to chat with you since you surprise them sometimes with your wisedom, especially Vincent is fascinated with your answers and predictions you sometimes make. Everything is almost good but Rachel gets told that you often just stay in your room, that you suffer often nightmares at night and that some of them have caught you silently crying somewhere before. Your past still makes you suffer greatly apparently.

🍓 🌓 Rachel seeks you out, worried for you although you tell her that she shouldn't concern herself too much with you. It's true that you miss your family but you can't do anything about it since they're gone now. She still tells you that you can always come to her if you need to talk with someone. You're touched by her kindness, know that you can most likely never tell her the truth about what really happened though. The whole family is rather fond of you at one point though. You become pretty much Rachel's personal maid at one point and she spends much time with you when she's bedridden due to her condition. Vincent often asks you about your opinions on certain topics since he trusts your advices since you always consider things from a different perspective than him and sometimes seem to know how a certain situation will end. Ciel likes talking with you too due to your occasional humor and knowledge and his younger brother is really clingy and you often look out for those two when their parents are busy. Both don't mind a bit though and actually come sometimes running to you when they have a problem.

🍓 🌓 You don't talk much about your past and the little pieces of knowledge the household has lets most assume that your family was better of than the average citizen but died in a tragic accident and that that is the reason why you are so knowledgeable and have ended up on the streets. Something doesn't sit right with Vincent though. He has tried to do his research on you but couldn't find anything. There is no family with your last name you admitted accidentally to him at one point, there is no history with a family of that name who died for some reason. There is no family at all with that name in London. He doesn't believe your family to be the average citizens, the deepness of your education must mean that one of your family members must have been a teacher, a doctor or just richer. Then there is something else that arouses his suspicion at times. The way you behave and talk is rather eccentric at times, certain words sometimes leave your lips that he's never heard and your predictions, when you share them with him, are spot-on at times. As if you know what was going to happen.

🍓 🌓 Ciel sometimes also tells him that you tell his younger brother and him weird things at times when you're somewhere else with your thoughts and always try to cover it up afterwards. Son and father both feel like there is something you keep hidden from them and both want to know what that is. They can agree on the fact that whatever you keep a secret won't harm them though, you would never do something to hurt them. They just want to know because whatever it is you tell no one is a weight pulling on your heart. The distant and sad look at times, that one time Ciel and his brother caught you crying and your silent and sometimes downright depressing behavior. They can't bear to see you like this, they care too much.

🍓 🌓 By now your lifestyle has undergone a little change as the Phantomhive family might have grown a bit too attached to you. You have been working less and less in the kitchen or cleaned the house. Instead you spend a lot of time with Rachel and her husband, read stories to the youngest boy and are even allowed to help the twins with their education since you know enough to teach them. Ciel's younger brother also demands your presence a lot since he has asthma too and is often too sick to go outside which upsets him. So he wants you to play with him or read him some stories. Most of your meals are taken together with the family even though this isn't something that should happen considering that you're just a plain servant. You tell them so too but they just laugh it off and tell you that they want you to enjoy your food together with them. You even get your own private room instead of sharing a room with the other maidens.

🍓 🌓 Vincent doesn't want to threaten you even if he could do that with ease. You've become a part of his family, of their family by now. He knows that everyone feels the same way too so he can't force you to tell him. Not to mention that Rachek would never fully forgive you if he would use force against you. Instead him and Ciel try to coax you into telling them what your full story is. You know that they care for you so much after all, you can always come to them if it becomes too much for you alone to carry. Rachel and the youngest son are not informed about their plan for now though since both are much more purer and kinder. Rachel and her youngest are really clingy with you and especially the little one is often right next to you and hides behind you when he feels shy. Rachel gushes over both of you since you two are so adorable together, feels happier than ever with you as the lovely addition to this family. She often tells you that she views you like her own family too to let you know that she loves and cares for you.

🍓 🌓 You find yourself at times overwhelmed with all the affection that is thrown your way and the way Vincent and Rachel dote on you and their children. There is guilt embracing your heart too since you can't shake off the feeling that you're betraying your own family because of this situation. They aren't dead, just in a world so far away from where you are right now and this guilt gets the better of you at times when you abruptly try to distance yourself from the Phantomhive family to feel like you're loyal to your own. You can't do that for too long though since Vincent will order for the servants to get you if he realizes that you try to avoid them. He doesn't want Rachel and his youngest son to know since they'd be heartbroken and reminds you of that in a chiding tone too. He knows you could never be the cause of happiness for those two. Weirdly enough he sees right through you and even asks you if you isolate yourself because you can't let go of your own family. You give him a terrified and exposed look.

🍓 🌓 Vincent and Ciel are both slightly unhappy with your emotional inability to accept them as your new family. From the ways you act your family is either dead or will most likely never return to you so there shouldn't be a problem. Emotions have never been rational though and both are aware of that. At times you do seem truly happy though, feel like you really are part of their family and nothing brings Rachel greater joy than seeing the happy smile on your face when you interact with her youngest or joke around with Ciel. She wants you to always be like this but knows it's selfish from her to ask this of you, especially since you lost your real family which still affects you at times. She tells Vincent her dream nevertheless and he promises her that you just need time to recover. He will make sure that her dream will become a reality.

🍓 🌓 Months pass by where you still don't tell anyone about your past and grow more torn apart between what you used to have and still want and what you have now and have learned to treasure. Your guilt holds you back from truly acknowledging the Phantomhive family as your new family in this world and your heart breaks every time when the youngest son tells you that you're like an older sibling to him and that he loves you a lot or when Rachel gives you a gentle hug and smiles at you with this fond look of hers. It fills you with guilt and the emotional gaslighting that Vincent and sometimes even Ciel do to convince you to tell them only hurts you more. Until one night, after another nightmare of yours, the guilt kills you and you go straight to the chambers of Rachel and Vincent. Both are still tired when they wake up and see you standing there but as soon as they notice your tears and the sobs you try to hold back, both are awake. They both know that you most likely had another nightmare but this is the first time you've sought them out after one.

🍓 🌓 You slump down on the bed next to you, still distraught after your nightmare and both of them try their best to comfort you. Rachel embraces you with her warmth and Vincent caresses your hair. Both wait for you to tell them what has happened and you sob out that they probably won't believe you anyways if you tell them everything now. Rachel cradles your face in her hands carefully and promises to you that they'll believe you and the look in her eyes is what finally breaks you. Everything just spills out of you as you tell them that you came originally from another country but were somehow transported into this world and you have no way to come back home, don't know of any at least. Both of them share a short glance with each other and they know exactly what each other is thinking. They both believe you. Rachel because she knows you would never lie to her and Vincent because he is very good in telling whether someone is lying to him or not. He doesn't believe that you're lying to him and somehow everything makes perfect sense to him now. Your weird words and how you know so much. Both comfort you for the rest of the night.

🍓 🌓 The parents decide to tell their children nothing for now although they'll have to do that at one point. Ciel most likely suspects that something is going on and approaches his father who just tells him that he has to wait for a bit but promises to him that he'll definitely be told soon what has happened. Rachel grows more paranoid now that she knows the truth and it leads her to suffer under insecurities. It must be torture for you to know that your real family searches for you and hopes for you to return to them without knowing that you're stuck in a completely different world. She starts doubting if she can really make you happy and Vincent has to comfort her when she's distraught like this. She's more clingy and affects her youngest son too. He doesn't know what's going on but realizes that his mother is terrified for you which makes him more clingy and terrified too. He suddenly constantly wants to be with you and his mother since she'a afraid to leave you alone so he grows afraid too as soon as he can't find you.

🍓 🌓 Vincent is slightly disturbed. As fascinating as it might be to know that there are more worlds than the human eye will ever be able to see, he's a bit unsure. You've told Rachel and him that you don't think that you'll ever be able to return to your own world but there is no guarantee for that. You didn't know after all what triggered you to be sent to his world in the first place. There's no guarantee that the same won't happen again. It's frustrating since it's one of the few times where he is unable to control the situation and the lack of information makes it all even worse. It's ridiculous but the only thing he can do now is hoping that you truly will never return. He knows that this is selfish but Vincent is a egotistic man to begin with. His wife and children love you and he does too, he won't lose a precious family member. They're your new family after all, they can make you happy. Enough for you to stop being often so sad about your family in your original world.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere rachel #yandere rachel phantomhive #yandere vincent #yandere vincent phantomhive #yandere real ciel #yandere ciel #yandere ciel phantomhive #platonic yandere

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evilwriter37 · 7 months

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Here's a lil somethingI wanted to share. And uhmmm.... Trigger Warning ⚠️ Hinted at an attempt at pressing unsubscribe from life

"Do you know what it's like? To singlehandedly destroy everything even remotely good in your life? To be aware you are the cause of everything coming down to ruin? To know... you are the sole reason all you had is now gone?"

Hiccup frowned in confusion at the statement from the man in front of him, staring out at the moving tree canopies below a tall, steep cliff. For about four months, he thought the Chief of the Dragon Hunters gone. For four months he stifled down the guilt of a quiet voice at the back of his head chanting: "you killed him. It's all your fault". And as it turns out, he came out of it alive with only with a ghastly scar and a strange new aura about him. One that felt familiar somehow and not in a good way. Even Toothless, initially hostile and on alert seems to perk up in confusion with a slight hint of concern as they both eyed Viggo who seemed uncaring of their presence.

This wasn't how Hiccup imagined his trip to the Markets to go. Meeting a dead man back from beyond who looked so much smaller, more frail and plainly ill. Nor was he expecting that kind of question, especially since it brought back a bad memory.. You're not a Viking. You're not my son.

"Yeah.. Why?"

He isn't sure why he replied. Maybe out of curiosity. Maybe to try and glean what type of game Viggo was playing this time around. Or maybe.. out of pity? There had to be a reason for this question after all.. What he wasn't anticipating though, was a humorless chuckle in reaction to his response.

"An unforgettable feeling, isn't it..? Gnawing away at you every moment of your existence. A pain impossible to staunch. One you can either try and remedy... or bear with your teeth clenched tight."

Why was he saying it all? Hiccup cannot tell. But it sounded too much like a confession one would make with their dying breath for it to be normal. The Hunter turns to face the Rider and his Night Fury. An unnerving, hollow look in his eyes, one of which is now foggy and unseeing. And a lopsided smile - not a devious or taunting smirk usually sitting on his face but a broken grimace - sends a chill down Hiccup’s spine. Toothless too tenses up and lets out a worried yelp when Viggo takes a step back towards the ledge. Hiccup’s compassionate and kind heart fills with a chill of dread and all he can do is let out a panicked yell upon the final statement.

"Nothing is left for me to fix. No pieces to pick up and mend. All I have left is bearing this burden. But I cannot do it. I do not intend to.."

"Viggo, WAIT!!!"

I must admit I didn’t read this. I would like people to refrain from sending me things having to do with suicide in the future. (And if you do want to put a trigger warning, please actually use the word of the act that is happening. I had to read that first sentence a few times to make sense of it).

I’m sure it’s a wonderful piece of writing, and others are free to read it, but it’s something I need to avoid for my own health and safety. I’m not saying this to be mean. It’s just a boundary I have to draw.

Also, ao3 is a thing, including the anonymous collection if you don’t want your own name attached. I encourage people to post their stories there instead of straight into my inbox. I have my own squicks and triggers and things I avoid in fiction for various reasons. You never really know if something you’re sending someone is going to be one of those things, hence why posting to ao3 is much better.

#asks #pls don’t be mean to anon #I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it #suicide mention

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husbandomail · 2 years

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What kind of yugioh ocs are they?

dfghjkjhgf I'm still not super used to being asked about my ocs

they're duel academy students! I've got Ainara in Slifer Red, Mirach in Obelisk Blue, and Saiph in Ra Yellow.

I get shy about rambling so I'll put the rest of this under a cut lmao, it's kinda long ahaha

I have picrews!! because I can't draw lmao.

Ainara is the youngest of two children; her older brother is a pro duelist nowadays, and he's always been the favored child. things hit a point where she basically ran away from home to attend Duel Academy herself, in the hopes of becoming a strong enough duelist to beat her brother and just kinda,,, she doesn't even know if she wants her parents' attention anymore, but she just wants to prove her existence. she's placed in Slifer Red because she arrives after the start of the school year, and she refuses the automatic promotion to Obelisk Blue because she wants to earn her way there, but eventually she just decides to stay in Red anyways lmao.

she's a very quiet and lonely person, so hearing all the stories about what happened with Jaden, she ends up really wanting to meet him because she thinks they're the same kind of lonely. part of her arc is learning to express herself as a person, while other people also grow more understanding of her. deck-wise, I'm pretty adamant that I want her ace monster to be Blaze Fenix, so I'm trying to piece together something that works there.

Mirach is the Blue student; he was very ill as a child, so nowadays he feels the constant need to prove himself every time the opportunity arises. he's also still struggling with a lot of guilt and grief; he was close friends with another child while they were both hospitalized years ago, but his friend died while Mirach survived. So despite his still-frail health, Mirach wants to be able to save the people around him.

definitely a total sweetheart, especially in comparison to a lot of the other arrogant Obelisk students. for his deck I'm leaning towards his own set of Heroes, but I do want to piece together something different from what Jaden uses. if not Heroes, maybe a Light deck.

and then we have Saiph! he's in Ra Yellow, and the most notable thing about him is that he's got terrible luck. despite that, he generally puts on a brave face and pretends it doesn't bother him. [spoiler alert: it bothers him]

he's the only child of busy parents, and no matter what he did, they were never there when he needed them; because of that, he's really skittish and emotionally fragile now, and feels like he has to earn love and attention. he grows to heavily value winning because he thinks it's the only way he carries any worth, but with his awful luck, victory is rare.

for his initial deck, I'm leaning towards aliens? and then as the story picks up and gets going, he switches over to rituals with a focus on Demise, King of Armageddon.

I've got the general gist of the story down, but this post is long enough already so lmao

if you read all this, THANKS LMAO

#asks #not an imagine #anon #oc hours

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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There's a Chat in OM where Satan shows concern over Beel because he saw Beel talking to himself, crouched down in the garden, which Beel later reveals to have been him talking to a very frail plant he found because Mammon told him that talking to flowers helps them grow.

And what I adore about this is that it shows things about the brothers involved that we don't always get to see in the main game, or that are sometimes overlooked for the funny hijinks.

- Beel notices incredibly small details. The flower is small and hidden enough that Satan initially thinks he's talking to himself. He doesn’t actually see the plant at all. And Beel is the tallest brother, so it's not as if his height would be any help to him noticing something on the ground that's small, hidden, and frail, especially when he’s doing a task like watering the garden. That’s just a job to be done, and most people would pay more attention to where the water’s going and how much there’s left to do than they would to each individual flower. He must have been paying genuinely close attention to his surroundings to even notice it to begin with.

- Beel's care for things extends even to nature. He talks to the plant because he wants to help it grow. It's just a small, dying flower, one of however many there are in the House’s garden; there’s no reason to fret over it when there’s probably plenty of other flowers around it, and maybe even flowers of the same species.

But Beel’s genuinely invested in bringing it back to health. He’s seen this tiny, sickly, insignificant flower, and his first thought is to make it better. It's why he later clarifies the situation to MC, asking for more help, because the flower hasn't shown any signs of improvement.

(Very quietly, it makes me wonder if part of the reason he does this is guilt. Maybe Beel just doesn’t like to see things that are dying.)

- Despite how the brothers act towards Mammon most of the time, Beel fully takes on his advice. He spends days talking to the flower because Mammon told him that's something that might work, and it's only when the flower hasn't gotten better that he seeks more help.

At no point did he question this advice. At no point did he think that the “scummy” second-born would say something stupid, or irrelevant, or unhelpful. Mammon told him to talk to the plant, and he so did.

He says that he asked because Mammon was nearby, but at any time he could have just walked right past him, found someone else, and asked them. He could have completely ignored the fact that Mammon was there - especially considering how little the brothers tend to think of his ideas, to begin with - and found someone “more competent”. But he didn’t.

Which means he genuinely has no issues turning to Mammon for help. He genuinely thinks Mammon can give competent advice.

Out of all the brothers, Beel is usually the best when it comes to their overall treatment of the second-born, so maybe that isn’t surprising - but he can be derisive as well.

So it's nice to see, in a situation where it was just the two of them, without the antagonising influence of the others, Beel show he's more than willing to listen to Mammon as a voice of authority and knowledge - especially over something he's worried about. He respects and trusts what Mammon says, and believes it.

- Mammon saw Beel worried over a plant - something small and insignificant that has no greater purpose in the world and hosts no real interest for either of them - and gave him the best genuine advice he could.

Mammon likely doesn't actually know how to care for sick plants, but wanted to try and give Beel something to work with. We know he cares for his brothers deeply - almost (if not exactly) to the point of self sacrifice - so it's not a stretch at all to say he probably suggested talking to the plant in full seriousness, hoping it would help Beel.

It's a common piece of advice, after all. I've heard people say it all the time, from the most amateur gardener to the most professional; talking to your plants keeps them happy and helps them grow.

The bit that really gets me about it, though, is the fact that Mammon... knew it? Out of all things, you'd expect him to care about gardening the least - and to suggest talking to a plant even less. It goes completely against his image, but not against what we know of Mammon as a kind and caring (as well as emotional) demon beneath the facade.

Him, in a similar position to Beel, crouched down low and out of sight to murmur quietly to a plant he thinks needs an extra boost, is well within the spectrum of things Mammon would do but deny doing if caught.

And I just think it's sweet, imagining him passing on advice he's used in the past over a similar thing he might have done to try and help his clearly worried little brother.

- Satan, in a chat with Solomon and MC, shows genuine care and concern towards Beel.

His first instinct is to ask MC and Solomon if they might know what’s going on. He’s noticed a pattern of behaviour that’s unusual for Beel - “sitting out in the garden, mumbling to himself”, to quote him directly - and once it’s gotten to a point that he’s worried, he asks if anyone else knows what’s wrong.

It shows a fair bit of forethought, too. Satan didn’t immediately assume something was up, didn’t immediately dogpile on Beel; he let it play out, keeping a close eye, until it went on for long enough that he thought it might be something bigger. He’s often shown as being thoughtful about how others might react to things (at least, when he’s not enraged), but it’s interesting to see the actual depth of not only his caring, but his understanding of emotional states and how to handle them.

Satan isn’t heartless. If he notices something wrong, he’s very likely to approach the person in question (or people he trusts) with his concerns in a very gentle manner explicitly to avoid overwhelming them. He actively cares enough to pay attention to the people around him, and to notice when someone starts acting differently.

This is especially sweet when it comes to Beel. The brothers have a tendency to treat Beel as the big, gentle giant who doesn’t have a worry in the world except for what he wants to eat. He’s quiet, complains little, and shoulders so many burdens in stride that they often overlook his struggles - if they’re even aware that they exist, because Beel loves his family so much he tries to avoid troubling them.

The fact, then, that Satan not only noticed, not only inquired about his health, but then - when Solomon and MC suggest that maybe Beel’s stressed out and bottling up his emotions - openly says this:

Just shows so much love. The game sometimes overlooks just how much Satan loves his family, but this? This shows it, without a doubt.

- Satan messages the chat with Solomon in it.

This surprised me when I went back to look over the conversation; I genuinely remembered it as him talking to Levi, for some reason. Beyond that, if you asked me who I thought it’d be that he questioned for information regarding Beel’s health, it wouldn’t be Solomon that immediately jumped to mind.

In this situation, you’d think it’d make more sense for him to ask MC and Asmo (who he’s shown to have a very close and affectionate relationship with), or maybe MC and Belphie (who would probably be the first demon anyone should go to regarding Beel, and who Satan definitely gets on with).

As far as I’ve seen - which, admittedly, I’m not caught up on any of the Human World events from the main game beyond spoilers I’ve looked up - there’s not a lot of, if any, interactions between Beel and Solomon? Most of them are Solomon trying to give Beel food, and Beel trying to foister that food off onto someone else because Solomon’s cooking is one of the few things he can’t stomach.

So maybe it says more about Satan’s relationship with Solomon. Looking back through the chats, Solomon feels comfortable enough with Satan to outright ask him if he’s kissed MC (in the chat where Luke overheard Satan and MC talking about K.I.S.S.), and Satan doesn’t react negatively even though it’s a genuinely personal question.

Likewise, Satan, when furious over one of his dramas, immediately turns to the chat with MC and Solomon in it. He explicitly states that he doesn’t know what to do with the feelings he’s got left over from the cliffhanger, and wants to talk it over with the two humans. Which is interesting in two ways:

+ It shows that Satan is comfortable enough when angry to go to Solomon and MC, confident that they won’t actively make it worse (which is always possible when it comes to Satan’s Wrath once it’s ignited).

+ It shows that Satan’s more than happy to talk about how he feels in front of Solomon, and actively engaging him in that discussion. Yes, it’s only over a drama, but you don’t often turn to someone you don’t trust when you want to vent over something you’re passionate about.

There’s a fair bit of trust between them, I think, regardless of how either of them are typically viewed. Plus, the chat’s called Cat (3). It’s almost definitely just a pun, but the fact that a chat with Solomon and MC in it is also named after the one thing that can soothe Satan from an outright rage (as we’ve seen both in OtakuFM and in the main game) is interesting in what it implies about their relationship with him.

So, back to what I originally pondered: why did he go to Solomon and MC when he was concerned about Beel, and not Belphie (Beel’s twin, most likely to know what he’s up to) or Asmo (who lives at the House and is absolutely more likely to have seen Beel in the garden)?

He trusts Solomon and MC enough to take the matter seriously, with discretion.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me solomon

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years

Note

Hi what do you think (All Male) Eden, Bailey, and Wren would be like with a sickly, naïve, and frail (Fem) S/O? (And by frail I mean with very little pressure their arm would break) Also if you want you could do A/B/O.

Shout out to anyone with chronic pain, we're the sexiest bitches.

Just a smidge ABO.

NSFW below

Bailey

Finds it annoying. He's busy, he doesn't have time to coddle you.

No he doesn't think you're cute when you look up at him like that, stop it.

He thinks you're fucking adorable.

How have you managed to stay so naive in a town like this? A treasure to be protected, he thinks.

Find you a private doctor, away from Harper. Can't risk you being whisked off to that asylum.

Going to have to work on his temper. Can easily hurt you if he's not careful- even if his anger isn't directed at you.

He could just have a stressful day and grab you by the writ to drag you into his office for some stress relief, and now you're crying.

Pulling you into his lap, kissing your cheek and shushing you as he wipes away tears. Daddy didn't mean to hurt you, it's alright. You're alright. Move your neck to the side so he can't scent you, now, there's a good girl.

Slow, sensual sex where he refuses to break eyecontact and dirty-talks like nothing else.

Cockwarming with his knot inside, kissing over your cheeks and rocking you to sleep stuffed full. So gentle and cute in his arms.

Definitely has a thing for white lingerie.

Eden

Insistent that you only take care of the easy work around the cabin. He'll do all of the hard stuff, you just do what you can and keep them company, that's all he asks.

If you need hospital visits its going to be difficult. Eden doesn't trust the hospital, doesn't want you anywhere near it.

Can be pushed to accompany you to the hospital if your situation is bad enough Eden can't tend to you.

Your naivety worries him. Makes him even more protective because what if someone takes advantage of it?

That first time out in the woods, when he initially kidnaps you? It was the worst. He hurt you so bad, not aware of just how fragile you are.

Tries to be gentle now, but still needs a reminder that his cock is not a jackhammer.

Big on having you sit on his face. Likes how your thighs shake, how he has to hold you up with his strong hands because you nearly collapse on him from the pleasure.

Eden letting you tie his arms to the bedpost so you can ride him without fear of him losing control and hurting you.

Gentle with his mating marks. Starts it off as little nips to his neck, upping the pressure so your body is used to the pain when he sinks his teeth in for real.

Likes you in his shirts. When you're sick in bed, wrapped in his clothes and scent it makes him calm. Even though you may be in pain in that moment, he's here. He's right here to take care of you, you're safe.

Wren

Feels a little bad sometimes, like he's taking advantage of you. You're not fully aware of how far things can go the first time he pulls you into his lap during blackjack, but he loves how flustered and wet you get for him.

Loves how you come back wanting more, despite the risk to your own health.

What if Remy caught you? You couldn't fight them off.

But here you are, letting his fingers rub at your clit while his friends watch, hiding your face behind your cards.

He'll walk you back to the end of the moors if he has to. What if something got you out there and he lost his favourite blackjack buddy?

Chastises his friends if they're rough with you if you go under the table.

Let's you deal with your health problems mostly by yourself. Wren doesn't really know how to help, you've been dealing with it all your life, surely you know best there.

Careful dragging you around when he sabotaged stuff. You sure you don't want to wait at the cottage? It's pretty cold out.

Continues games with his friends when he knots you. You can take a nap, if you want, he's going to be there for a while.

Sleeping with you clothes under his pillow because your scent makes him calm. Definitely wanks off with his nose in your panties, cock leaking on his pillow at the thought of it being you.

#degrees of lewdity bailey #degrees of lewdity eden #degrees of lewdity wren #degrees of lewdity #spill your guts #anonymous

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

<< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

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shima-draws · 4 years

Photo

At last, here she is...best girl Olivia!

As usual, all of her info is under the cut c:

Olivia

Age: 18

Hair color: White (with pink/purple streaks)

Eye color: Green

Element: Fire

After a lot of debating I decided that Olivia is actually Jasper and Mouna’s daughter--if you don’t know them they’re two older OCs that I’ve had for a while! (I figured I might as well give her parents already existing within the ATS-verse anyway, and I planned on Jasper and Mouna getting together and having a child somewhere down the line so it fits.)

When she was born, Olivia was very weak, and most healers feared that she would not make it—similar to how weak and frail Jasper was when he was born. Because of this, Jasper and Mouna are both fiercely overprotective of her (Jasper more intensely) so she was sort of suffocated by their attention. She grew up within the Spinelrose Guild and was treated more delicately by the rest of the guild members, especially because of how slow her development was and how often she was ill as a child. She originally had a difficult time making friends because Jasper was so afraid she’d get into trouble and get hurt, and the other kids didn’t want to accidentally put her in danger. Olivia was pretty isolated from her peers as a kid, and that frustrated her, because she didn’t want to be treated differently from everybody else just because of her fragility. Unfortunately she was never really strong enough to make her point, and just ended up being coddled by the guild as a result.

As she developed into a teenager, Olivia eventually outgrew her sickly physique and started to become stronger, both mentally and physically. She started to speak up about her parents’ treatment of her more—she knows that they just want to keep her safe, but she feels smothered by their hovering tendencies. Mouna eventually realizes how important this is to her and starts to back off, realizing how strong her daughter has become. Jasper, however...it’s harder for him to let go lol because she’s his only child and he knows how difficult it was to grow up as the weak link, the one who got ostracized because of their general health and well-being. It doesn’t help that Olivia is very clumsy and gets into little accidents all the time, which just makes his stress skyrocket.

Even worse, Olivia is a fire elemental, which is considered to be one of the most dangerous simply because of how destructive it is without proper control. When Olivia was a kid Jasper forbade her from practicing any of her magic, too worried that she’d end up hurting herself. Of course, Olivia has a bit of a rebellious streak, so she tried it once by herself and inevitably ended up burning the side of her face with her magic. (By now the scar is almost faded, but you can still see it.) Both of her parents flipped their lids, and Olivia was so terrified that she decided to never use her magic again, viewing it as a curse. Mouna tries to tell her that her magic is a blessing, something that encompasses life, and that she just wasn’t ready to use it so freely without any training. But Olivia is insistent—scarred both in the literal and metaphorical sense, she refuses to use her magic, scared that she’s going to hurt herself again, or worse, somebody else.

As the years pass Olivia starts to feel more and more unsatisfied with her current life—she likes the guild, likes her friends and her family, but she feels as if there’s more she could be doing with her life. Since she’s refrained from using her magic all these years, and because of how much of a klutz she is normally, she’s not really a strong fighter, and is pretty useless on guild missions. Seeing the rest of her guildmates put their all into what they do, and being able to succeed in it, drives her to eventually seek escape and try to start off with a clean slate. When she turns 14, Olivia decides that she’s going to leave the guild and travel to someplace new in an attempt to be more independent and maybe find a purpose for herself.

Of course she realizes that if she tells her parents this they’ll probably refuse her, so she corners her uncle Terrence instead. Seeing her drive, Terrence decides he’s going to escort her to make sure she arrives safely. Olivia initially refuses because this is something she wants to do on her own, but Terrence warns her that the world is a dangerous place, and since she doesn’t know how to fight or use her magic the trip would be near suicidal if she went on her own. Terrence tells her the best option is going to stay with Spinelrose’s sister guild, Amethystus, and receive proper training in order to hone her magic and her fighting skills. That way she’d still have a direct line with Spinelrose in case something goes wrong, but she’d be far enough away to be independent.

Olivia prepares to sneak out in the middle of the night, but she gets caught by both Jasper and Mouna (because Terrence is a good uncle and he told them lmao). Fearing that they’re going to stop her, Olivia stands up for herself and makes it clear that this is something she needs to do. Much to her shock, Jasper and Mouna encourage her to follow her dreams and come home a new woman. It’s a very soft moment when they all hug each other goodbye, and there’s lots of tears :’) Olivia leaves home knowing that her parents are worried, but they’ll support her decisions because they love her.

After their crazy trip (where Olivia second guesses herself a million times and wonders if she can really survive out in a world this chaotic), they finally arrive at the Amethystus Guild! Olivia literally bumps into Ginni and from there, they form an instant close friendship. Ginni respects Olivia’s desire to be independent and is somewhat envious she made the decision to leave her guild in order to become stronger. Olivia admires Ginni’s confident personality and her fearlessness. Together they get into LOTS of trouble lol, mostly led by Ginni who is a notorious troublemaker within the guild, with Olivia just along for the ride.

During all this, Olivia meets the guild’s official blacksmith and, upon seeing the incredible things he can create by using fire magic, starts to rethink her opinions about her own “cursed” fire magic. The blacksmith, normally a very closed off, grumpy, and rude person, notices Olivia’s conflict about fire, and decides he’s going to train her in order to help her overcome her fear. Through a lot of practice and very intense sessions, Olivia is finally able to confront her trauma and move past it—leading to her discovery that she’s a talented natural at using elemental magic, finding that it comes very easy to her and is something she can control without thinking too much. This is a rare skill, for normally it takes an elemental years of practice and training to have perfect control over their magic. On top of that, her fire is very pretty and beautiful to look at, a reflection of her soul. Her master berates her from hiding something so beautiful and pure for so long lol

Olivia finds passion in blacksmithing, and trains under her master in order to create beautiful and powerful weapons. She does get burned a few more times during this, leading to some relapses, but her master tells her it’s part of the job and something that every elemental will come across: they aren’t always the perfect masters of their magic, and sometimes can hurt themselves without meaning to. But being able to understand what went wrong and how to fix it will make her stronger. Within a couple years Olivia flourishes and evolves into one of the guild’s most fiercest fighters, with an excellent handle on her abilities!

Olivia and Ginni grow up together in Amethystus, and are pretty much inseparable. When Ginni gets kidnapped by the Forces and is missing for several weeks, Olivia is beside herself with worry. After Ginni returns with Kaz in tow, Olivia is one of the first people to accept him and trust him fully, because she believes in Ginni more than anybody else. (Kaz develops a soft spot towards Olivia because of this, and is forever grateful for her support.) Over time Olivia starts to realize just how awful Kaz’s life at the Forces was, and grows very sympathetic towards his situation. She understands wanting to start over somewhere new with a clean slate, though Kaz’s circumstances are much worse than hers, because she still has a loving family and home to return to someday. Olivia becomes determined to make Amethystus a home like that for Kaz, as well as Hiro, who they discuss recruiting to their side from the Forces. As Kaz continues to reveal more of his past, as well as Hiro’s, Olivia and Ginni both get very gung ho about going to fetch Hiro LOL because they both want him to be safe (though Kaz assures them Hiro isn’t in any sort of danger, being the colonel, as well as too intelligent to put himself in trouble).

Kaz meets with Hiro, who was actually sent out on a mission to fetch him, and they negotiate Hiro acting as a double agent for Amethystus to spy on the Forces. Hiro had already been planning on leaving the Forces at some point, so he sees this as a perfect opportunity to get back at them for years of mistreatment. Over the course of the next several months, Hiro routinely reports back to Amethystus of the Forces’ plans, their current hideouts, and everything he knows about the higher ups. During all this he and Olivia meet, and at this point Olivia has started to refer to the colonel as ‘Hiro’ in her head, because it’s too confusing for her to call him the colonel, and she reasons that since Ginni gave Kaz his name she might as well give Hiro his. (Also because she believes that he’s a true ‘hero’ for enduring all of that suffering for so long, so it fits ;D) She calls him Hiro by sheer accident, but luckily he takes to the name well haha and they start to grow closer >:’) Hiro comments on how close Kaz and Ginni have become and the two start betting on when they’ll get together lol

Eventually Hiro’s position as a double agent is discovered by Mallary and so he finally breaks away from the Forces (and Mallary’s manipulation) and starts living permanently at the guild. Olivia’s pretty happy about this. She can’t explain why but she feels very safe and at ease around him, and she’s the person he’s the gentlest and softest around—unbeknownst to her, this is because he’s fallen in love with her, but she’s completely oblivious to his feelings. She’s pretty dense when it comes to romantic stuff like this whoops. Olivia finds Hiro’s intelligence incredible and likes that he’s such a skilled fighter despite not being that strong physically. Hiro likes watching her do her blacksmithing duties and always has expert things to say on her craftsmanship. They get along very well! Olivia’s never felt more at home than with Ginni, Kaz, and Hiro, and likes the tight knit little group they’ve formed. She becomes very fond and protective of them and, upon realizing how important they are to her and how much she’s changed because of them and because of her decision to join Amethystus, she decides to cut her hair as another sign of her growth as a person, and as a sign of change! She finally discovers what she wants to do: become a master blacksmith, and work alongside her friends to protect everything they can, including taking down the Forces to set free all of the people forced to work for them, and bring peace to the land.

When the time comes to finally take down the Forces, Olivia starts to develop feelings for Hiro as well, though it takes her a while to figure out because she’s never really been in love before, and mistakes a lot of her attraction for simple admiration. As Hiro continues to put his life on the line for their group and do anything he can to protect them, Olivia starts to discover that maybe she wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with him. There’s a point where Hiro gets injured so badly in battle he’s certainly going to bleed out, so he pleads for her to use her fire magic to cauterize his wound. Olivia’s trauma comes crashing back in and her worst fears are confirmed: her magic will end up hurting the people most important to her. Hiro tells her that by doing this, she’s going to save him, that her magic is life itself. Encouraged by his words, Olivia burns Hiro to save him, though it’s an extremely painful thing for her to do :’( But it’s at this moment she realizes that she definitely is in love with him, and would sacrifice anything for him.

Not long after that, Mallary attacks, enraged, and accuses Olivia of stealing everything important away from her. It’s a really emotional battle;; Mallary basically vents out about being the one left behind, the only one who couldn’t find a happy ending, and who had the only people she cared about taken. She says some really nasty things to Olivia about Hiro lol and this really makes Olivia mad, so they basically duke it out over Mallary’s twisted feelings for Kaz and her perceived ownership of Hiro. And Olivia’s just like. Bitch you don’t own him!! He’s not an object or a toy for you to play with!! Yeah. It’s nuts

After the grand battle with the Forces comes to an end and everything is resolved, Olivia decides to confess her feelings to Hiro, but it doesn’t...really go as planned. Hiro gently rejects her, but Olivia takes it the wrong way, still not realizing how head over heels for her he is. Shortly after this, Hiro and Kaz part ways with the guild, deciding to go on their own personal journeys of self discovery. During the year they’re gone, Olivia laments over her feelings for Hiro, miserable that she didn’t realize how she felt until it was too late, and miserable because she might never see him again. Eventually she tries to move on from that, but Ginni repeatedly tells her that Hiro is literally holding a torch for her lmao and that she shouldn’t let it go so quickly. Olivia protests constantly and strives to work harder to become a better blacksmith and stronger guild member, trying to put her feelings aside and ignore them.

Of course, when she and Ginni eventually reunite with Kaz and Hiro, Olivia realizes that shit I’m still in love with him and my feelings haven’t gone away, they’ve just grown stronger during the year we were apart;; luckily for her Hiro’s gone through a lot of self reflection and feels ready to be in a relationship with her, so, after a rocky road of awkward confessions and pouring out their feelings, they FINALLY get together.

The four of them go on a journey together! There’s some problems when Hiro runs into his childhood friend and first love, Lorelai, but in the end he shows he’s pretty damn dedicated to Olivia and it’s super soft. I just. I just love them so m u c h //shakes fists

AND THAT IS ALL FOLKS!! Most of it anyway lol

Extra personality traits:

-Very compassionate and caring about others—she’s a very motherly type. She’s able to get people to open up to her easily because of how friendly she is. She also settles disputes within the guild often, being the mediator between arguments

-A social butterfly. Probably the most social one out of the group, and the one most used to conversing with other people

-She’s got a lot of self-esteem issues because of her upbringing (and really, I promise Jasper is not a bad parent!! He’s just concerned), but she’s learned how to handle it better. She’s definitely way more confident than she was before!

-Tends to be very indecisive when it comes to big decisions, and is hesitant about fighting—though she will put her all into it if the stakes are high. She CAN whoop your ass

-Super passionate about blacksmithing! It’s her true calling, and something she throws herself into fully. She’s very artful with her work and makes gorgeous pieces, and tends to ramble on about the specifics even when nobody understands lol

-A bit oblivious and airheaded sometimes. She’s completely unaware of several of the guild members’ feelings for her, including Hiro’s.

-VERY affectionate. Because she was isolated from other kids as a child, she’s very touchy feely and loves expressing her affection through casual touches. And lots of hugs!

-Since she’s the sweetest and nicest person in the group, she is terrifying when she’s angry. She’s super protective of her friends and won’t hesitate to leap into action to keep them safe, often getting very fierce when she does so

-She hates being alone. Being raised in an atmosphere with so many people around, she isn’t used to being by herself, and her instant source of comfort is being near others

-Isn’t afraid to tease her friends or state her opinion when it really counts

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xomarauders · 3 years

Text

posted this on ao3 awhile back and had a hard time getting tumblr to upload it, but it finally worked so here you go

content warning for referenced child abuse

The warmth of summer filtered through the window, casting rays of sunshine across the floor of James Potter’s bedroom carpet where Remus was splayed out, tracing patterns into the ridiculously soft material. He was sure that James charmed it to keep it so fluffy, otherwise it would not have survived the footfalls of four, rowdy boys that found refuge here during the summer. It used to be only the three of them—James, Remus, and Peter, that is—until Sirius was able to join permanently halfway through the summer season. His parents had never allowed for him to visit the Potter’s while he was still living under their roof, but now that the raven-haired boy had run away and was officially disowned, well, Remus was sure the carpet would have wilted under Padfoot’s grubby paws by now.

Either way, Remus was sure that there was nothing better than laying on James’ charmed carpet with his three best friends, listening to music from the record player—that had also been charmed to work without electricity—and chatting about whatever came to their minds. They were all sat on the floor aside from Sirius, who was perched in the window, smoking, and watching as the birds flew around outside. Remus smirked—the boy really was such a dog.

“It’s our last years at Hogwarts, boys,” James announced as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, “what are we going to do once it’s all over?”

It was a question that held a lot of weight, depending on how you looked at it. What were they going to do as far as it came to pranks and leaving their legacy at Hogwarts or what were they going to do as soon as they graduated. Maybe get jobs, possibly go to university, more likely join the Order to fight a war they didn’t start. Remus didn’t care to think about any of these things. His future had been something he considered to be doomed since he was four years old and suddenly had to share his mind with a beast that tore apart his body every month. He had never even planned on having the life he had gotten—the chance to go to Hogwarts, to make friends…to fall in love.

He cast glance toward Sirius, whose own gray eyes were already looking to Remus, a thoughtful expression on his face. Remus grinned at him, tilting his head so that his curls fell into his eyes. Sirius smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d been smiling like that a lot, lately. Remus made a mental note to ask him about it later that night.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I have no idea what I’m going to do without all of you around,” Peter said.

“Don’t worry, mate,” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder, “you can’t get rid of us that easy! Marauders till the end, right?”

There was a certain admiration that Remus held for James Potter, the savior of the cursed and the damned. He had banded them all together; the timid boy, the broken werewolf, and the wayward heir to make a family. Remus would never be able to repay James for the unconditional love he’d shown him, but he was willing to try everyday for the rest of his life.

“Marauders till the end,’ Sirius repeated, extracting himself from the window as he put out his cigarette. He joined them on the floor, laying down next to Remus and pressing himself tightly against the other boy. Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius, partially out of habit and partially because it was what Sirius needed, something he was starved of. Touch had been something of a guessing game between the two of them ever since they started their relationship. Neither of them were quite used to being touched in such casual ways until they became friends with James—who was constantly giving out hugs like they were candy—and starting a relationship had made the concept even more confusing. Not only did they have to think about what sort of casual touching was okay for each of them, but now they had to factor in intimate contact. Kissing was okay, just as long as they were alone in the safety of Remus’ four poster bed or hidden in one of the various alcoves they had discovered while creating the Marauders Map. Remus thought it might even be okay here, in James’ bedroom, to sweetly kiss his boyfriend without fear of judgment or ridicule. Still, he let Sirius make those decisions, allowed him to initiate any sort of contact between them because while Remus’ aversion to touch stemmed from not being able to trust himself, Sirius’ came from not being able to trust others. He was easily spooked by any sort of sudden movement that came his way, a side effect of Walburga Black’s outstanding parenting skills, and no amount of James’ casual hugs or Remus’ gentle caresses have seemed to break him of this habit.

“What are you thinking about, Moons?” Sirius whispered. James and Peter were too busy arguing over which record to play next to notice their other two friends.

“You,” Remus said easily. Sirius blushed—an image Remus would never tire of seeing—and reached up with his slender fingers to brush away the curls that had fallen in Remus’ eyes.

“Me,” Sirius said, a hint of astonishment in his voice.

Remus wished Sirius wouldn’t sound so surprised at the idea of someone thinking of him. It hurt to know that Sirius did not quite value himself the same way Remus, James and Peter did and it was times like these where Remus wanted to meet Walburga and Orion Black in person just so he could give them a piece of his mind.

“Lads,” James said, throwing himself on top of them unceremoniously, “let’s head on downstairs. I think mum’s made dinner.”

The four of them trailed down the stairs, Sirius holding Remus’ hand while James raced ahead to slide down the railing. Fleamont was in the parlor, reading the newspaper and looking up as the boys made their presence known. He greeted them all, and asked James in a calm tone to perhaps not ride the staircase like a broomstick. James at least had the decency to turn red before assuring his dad it would never happen again (everyone knew it would). Euphemia was in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and her gray hair up in a knot on her head. Sirius leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and she gently reached out to him, not quite taking his face in her hands until she saw the smallest nod of permission.

“My darling,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears, “you look well.”

Remus knew what Euphemia was thinking about as she took in Sirius’ appearance. It was the same thing he had thought of over and over again as he laid in bed at night, his arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend in attempt to keep him safe from the nightmares that occupied his mind. The frail and beaten Sirius that had collapsed on the Potter’s doorstep those few weeks ago had been nursed back to health by the healing powers and carefulness of Euphemia Potter. Still, it was hard to get that image of Sirius lying half dead out of Remus’ mind. He could hardly imagine what it was like for Euphemia who had seen the worst of his injuries after shoving everyone else out of the room in order to heal him. James, Remus, and Peter had stayed up all night, waiting outside the spare bedroom door where they could hear Euphemia sobbing over Sirius’ sleeping form. Remus would rather have faced the full moon a hundred times instead of waiting those long three days for Sirius to wake up.

“Thanks, mum,” Sirius said. The four boys crowded around the kitchen table, eagerly reaching toward the various dishes Euphemia had spread about. Fleamont had joined them, sitting between his wife and Sirius. James immediately went for his mother’s main dish, filling his plate full before passing it to Peter, who was already nibbling on some naan. Remus loved Euphemia’s cooking. It was different than that of his mother’s—not that he would ever pass up his mam’s wonderful Sunday dinners—and he was happy to able to enjoy the different flavors offered whenever he visited. Euphemia always made far too much, making sure that everyone got their fill as well as some leftovers. She was an angel, truly.

Sirius did not fill his plate as full as the others. He was still very thin, with his jaw looking more pronounced and Remus knew his hipbones were a bit more jutted out. Punishments at Grimmauld Place were harsh and Sirius had been starved well into the first few months of summer. It was still a process, trying to get him to eat without getting sick, but they were managing best they could. Remus watched as Sirius poked at his food, looking a bit scared of it before setting his fork down and letting out a frustrated sigh. James looked up from his own plate, regarding Sirius with a look of concern from across the table.

“You okay there, Padfoot?” He asked, keeping his tone light but Remus could see the worry in his dark eyes. Sirius nodded, picking up his utensils once more.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just…” He trailed off, looking down at the table and not daring to meet anyone’s eye. Remus felt a sudden need to shield Sirius away from everyone else’s intense gaze, the wolf within him becoming quite territorial. He pushed those feeling away, not permitting the wolf access to its most basic instincts in the fear that the wolf might be visible on the surface. Still, even his human mind seemed to want to take Sirius away from the scrutiny.

“Darling,” Euphemia said, “you don’t have to eat it all. Just a few bites of naan if you can bear it. Just to keep up your strength.”

Sirius smiled tightly at her but did not move to eat. The rest of them reluctantly picked at their own food, trying to keep things as normal as possible. Fleamont engaged his son in conversation about Quidditch, asking after the Gryffindor team and what he thought their chances were this upcoming school year. Peter politely asked after the herbs Euphemia was growing in her kitchen—he had a thing for herbology—and she answered each question with detail. Remus turned his attention to Sirius, his hand coming to rest on the older boy’s knee. Sirius flinched slightly and then blinked as he realized it was only Remus.

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Remus asked quietly, rubbing circles with his thumb into Sirius’ thigh. The other boy nodded, standing quickly, and exiting the kitchen. The conversations happening came to an abrupt halt and Remus could feel James’ gaze turn towards him. He looked to his friend, a silent conversation passing between them.

Is he okay?

No, but he will be.

Remus walked out, trailing through the living room and out the back door which lead to the Potter’s spacious garden. When Remus had first visited the Potter’s home when he was thirteen, he had the startling realization that James Potter was very well off. It was a bit daunting, especially since Remus’ whole house could probably fit within one room of the mansion and he had been a bit nervous to even touch anything in fear of breaking it. Of course, Fleamont and Euphemia were no stranger to rough-housing, having known exactly what they were getting into with their own son, and Remus’ worries were quickly put to ease when Euphemia simply waved her wand at a vase that had tragically fallen to the floor amidst their game of dog-pile on Peter. Young Remus had almost forgotten that magic existed outside of Hogwarts, and he was in awe at seeing performed in such a domestic setting.

His favorite part of James’ home though was the garden. It was so big! There were wonderful trees that provided much needed shade on hot summer days, and pools of water run by magic to keep the vegetation alive. There were many times the boys pretended to be magizoologists searching for creatures in a jungle, or highly trained aurors on the hunt for evil wizards and—Remus’ personal favorite—pirates looking for treasure. It was a place filled with joy and adventure and even as the boys got older, it remained their sanctuary. Sirius had spent a lot of time in the garden since he arrived, sitting by himself beneath the starlit sky, crying out for his brother and the family that had hurt him. Remus had watched in privately, not daring to intrude on such moments, but wanting to be within reach just in case.

Sirius sat there now, next to a bed of deep red roses, softly running his fingers across the petals. Remus walked up, careful not spook him, and sat down beside him. He flickered his eyes in Sirius’ direction and noticed the other boy had started crying, but he did not pry. Now was not the time for that. Instead, he let his fingers trail through the grass beneath him and let his words fall lazily off his tongue.

“I read a new book at the beginning of summer,” Remus began, his tone light. “Mrs. Dalloway. It was a quick read. The entire novel takes place over the course of one day, how interesting is that? It’s become one of my favorites I think. Woolf is a great author—Virginia Woolf, she’s the one who wrote it.”

Sirius seemed to perk up at this. “Woolf? Could you be anymore ironic, Moony?”

A light laugh escaped Remus. “Believe me, I know. Mum was worried about that when she got it for me.”

The tension snapped back into Sirius as quickly as Remus realized his mistake. Hope Lupin was a generous woman, young and vibrant with a taste for progressive ideologies and love for everyone she met. She adored her son and kept him safe, never shying away from him despite his affliction with lycanthropy and Remus sometimes forgot how lucky he was to have her in his life until he was sat next to Sirius and realized that the Hope Lupin’s and Euphemia Potter’s of the world were unfortunately not the norm for everyone.

“They hate me,” Sirius says abruptly. “They hate that I don’t agree with them. That I don’t want to fucking pledge my allegiance to some dark lord who wants to kill all my friends and I—” he chokes off, a sob escaping him, “I don’t want to care, Remus. I don’t want to be bothered by the fact that my mother would rather curse me instead of hug me and that my father would rather have me dead instead of tarnishing his precious family name. But I do. I do care because they should care. I’m their son, I am their fucking flesh and blood and if blood is all that matters to them then why don’t they care about me?”

There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Remus, tears that Sirius had been holding back ever since he was eleven years old and discovered that parents were not supposed to punish their children for wanting to be loved, the pain and anguish of that realization that had built up over time finally reaching a breaking point. Remus’ own heart was breaking as he stared helplessly, not knowing what to do. These were not problems children were supposed to have. They were supposed to be young, careless, and dreaming up pranks to pull once they got back to school. Instead, they had to contend with a looming war and parents who were cruel and a curse that transformed you into a monster. This was their life, and it would never be easy, Remus thought, not for them.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, “there are no words I can say to express to you how sorry I am that you’ve had to deal with any of this. Your parents…they’re wrong. They are so fucking wrong and they are so fucking blind for not being able to love you. You are the most loveable human being. You’re generous and caring and you…you take notes for me. When I miss class. And you always make sure my pillows are nice and fluffy after the moon and you rub those soothing salves on my skin at night. And you make me that special tea whenever I’m sick and you read to me when I can’t sleep. You kiss me like it’s the first time every time and you love me like it’s the only thing you’re meant to do. You clean James’ glasses for him and you make sure his Quidditch gear is ready to go on game day. You help Peter study and you let him go on and on about divination with you despite it being your least favorite subject. You’re the first one up to dance with Marlene at the parties and you braid Lily’s hair whenever she’s feeling upset over her sister. You are one of a kind, Sirius Black. You are a good friend and a good brother and you are the love of my life. Believe me when I tell you that you are loved.”

Sirius stared at him, the tears falling from his eyes leaving trails across his cheeks. He reached out for Remus, pulling the taller boy closer to close the distance between them. Sirius’ lips met Remus’, a tender kiss filled with gratitude and love and the promise of forever. When Sirius pulled away, his eyes were still shining, but there was new fervor there, a look of life that Remus had not seen reflected in those silver orbs for a long time.

“I love you so much,” Sirius said. And he smiled genuinely for the first time in months.

Remus smiled back. “I love you, too.”

“Come on,” Sirius said, standing up and offering his hand. “Let’s head back in.”

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

You Are Of Their Ilk - Sequel to 'You Need Tending'

[1] [2]

Part 3

[Masterpost]

Traveling with Wei Ying over land rather than on the river proves to be somewhat less terrifying. Once they’ve left the town behind and there’s nothing but empty road ahead of them he finds the energy once again to dart this way and that, chasing birds and turning over stones to see what may be hiding beneath them, but without the danger of losing him in the river, Lan Qiren is less inclined to admonish him for his behavior. Instead he simply watches closely whenever he wanders too far ahead for them to hear his excited babbling and he continues his sedate pace with his nephews obediently at his sides, confident that Wei Ying will always come running back to check in with him between adventures.

Though they are too polite to say anything (or write anything, in Wangji’s case) Lan Qiren knows that his nephews must be confused as to why he’s allowing such wild behavior for his new ward when he has always expected decorum and obedience of them. He takes the opportunity to explain one mid-morning when Wei Ying has run far ahead of them to overturn a rock almost too large for him to lift and poke at whatever grubs are beneath it with a stick. They are drawing nearer and nearer to Cloud Recesses and will arrive within a day or so if they’re able to maintain their pace, and so he feels that it’s time for them to understand what roles he’ll be expecting them to take on once they’re home.

“Wei Ying is a lively child by nature and he has lived without anyone to guide or teach him for a very long time, which has led to him being unaware of proper conduct. It is in the interest of his health to encourage him for now, when he is free to behave as he always has, to make sure he feels comfortable and safe with us so he will accept our help. When we reach Cloud Recesses I trust you two will help me teach him proper behavior so that he may fit in quickly.”

“Yes Uncle,” Xichen says dutifully, though it takes a bit longer before Wangji nods and faces forward again. They walk a few more moments in silence like that before Wangji suddenly lengthens his stride - almost running but not quite – to join Wei Ying where he’s squatting by the rock. He can just barely hear Wei Ying’s delighted cry of, “A-Zhan!! Lookit the bugs!” from where he and Xichen are still walking and, utterly without his conscious permission, the corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of a smile.

Traveling with Wei Ying is not always quite so…chaotic as that, however. Since the afternoon of their first day of walking and each subsequent afternoon since, Wei Ying grows so tired after their midday meal and the excitements of the morning that he would fall asleep on his feet if Lan Qiren didn’t carry him. After the initial fright of Wei Ying doing precisely that and needing to be caught before he’d fallen on his face in the dirt, Lan Qiren spends each afternoon with the boy perched on his back, his head resting on his shoulder and his little exhales puffing against the side of his neck. Lan Qiren is well aware of how heavy sleeping children should be, having carried his own sleeping nephews too many times to be counted over the years, and so he is continually alarmed by the fact that Wei Ying feels as if he weighs nothing at all on his back no matter how much eats - even when so deeply unconscious he should feel like a sack of bricks. It’s during these hours that Lan Qiren is viscerally reminded that for all his enthusiasm and energy when awake, Wei Ying is still very much in need of recovery from the hardships of his life up to this point.

Favoritism is frowned upon, but Lan Qiren doesn’t think anyone could see Wei Ying, could look at the light in his eyes and the laughter that comes so easily - and then hold him and realize he’s as fragile and light as a songbird - without wanting to protect him and give him the things his heart desires. So far those desires are all easily met anyway. He wants to spend time with Wangji and Xichen, he wants a hug from Lan Qiren in the evening before he sleeps, he wants food (though he still hasn’t learned he’s allowed to ask for it when he’s hungry), he wants to play. Any desires Lan Qiren may have to prevent him from receiving any of these things are promptly outweighed by the memories of each time Wei Ying has shown even a hint of the depth of his injuries, mental or physical.

As frail as the boy feels to him any time he stops moving long enough to be held, it’s a wonder to Lan Qiren when they finally make it to Cloud Recesses without any further incidents like the morning in town. For the children’s sake he has elected to bring them up the mountain by a quieter path than the road that passes through Caiyi Town. He has also elected to carry Wei Ying up the mountain, uncertain of the child’s footing or his ability to climb the mountain path under his own power (and wary of his tendency to run about. As illogical as it is he can all too easily picture the boy slipping on some wet leaves and falling right off the mountain and it makes him..anxious.)

Despite entering the mountain using a lesser-travelled path, there are still two disciples waiting for them at the boundary of the wards, and though Wei Ying has been nodding off on his shoulder he suddenly goes tense and hides his face properly in the curtain of Lan Qiren’s hair as soon as it’s clear the four of them aren’t alone anymore.

Lan Qiren steels himself for the way their lives are all about to change as the disciples salute him and he recognizes that he will no longer be able to allow Wei Ying to run as free as he always has.

Upon reaching the waiting disciples, the senior of the two informs him that the elders are waiting for his report from Yunmeng and he nods his weary acknowledgement. “I will return the children to their rooms and come make my report,” he says and does his best to ignore the dread curling through him.

Getting the children settled is easy enough. Xichen is, of course, well used to taking care of himself by now and Wangji is similarly accustomed to it when necessary. The only excuse he really has not to report immediately to the elders is Wei Ying, who is not as much of an excuse as he would like as he’s gone quite still and well-behaved all the sudden even though Lan Qiren can tell from the rhythm of his breathing against his neck as they walk through Cloud Recesses that he’s not asleep.

“It’s alright, A-Ying,” Xichen murmurs softly when they’re alone on the path to the family dormitories, having apparently sensed the same fear in him that Lan Qiren has. “A-Zhan and I are going to stay with you, you don’t have to see anyone else until you’re ready.”

Wei Ying nods a few times but says nothing, and the rest of the walk to Lan Qiren’s quarters is quiet. Wangji is still young enough to share the space with him but Xichen has been living with his peers in the student dorms for years already to better pursue his studies without distraction. He comes for tea once a week to report on his own progress and of course Lan Qiren monitors his studies personally so they see quite a lot of each other anyway, but when he passes through the space to deposit Wei Ying in the room he will be sharing with Wangji, Xichen looks a little startled to see his old bed and belongings precisely as he had left them the day he moved out.

Lan Qiren attempts to unsling Wei Ying from his back to set him down but the boy clings to him with surprising strength and attempts to nuzzle deeper into the back of his neck as if hiding beneath the fall of his hair will protect him from the rest of the world.

“A-Ying,” he says quietly, carefully, more wary than ever of speaking too sharply. If it comes out a bit too flat instead then he supposes that’s at least not as bad as it could be. “I must report our arrival to the elders and it is time for you to sleep for the afternoon as you do each day.” It isn’t the schedule of Cloud Recesses to allow children of his age to sleep in the afternoon and he will have to break him of the habit at some point, but any sort of structure had seemed beneficial during the uncertainty of travel and for now he’s wary of letting Wei Ying break out of it simply because he’s feeling nervous.

It takes a bit more coaxing from Xichen before Wei Ying allows Lan Qiren to carefully pry his fingers free, and as soon as Lan Qiren gets him down on his own two feet Wangji is right there to grab his newly-freed hands and tug him over to his own bed. Lan Qiren suppresses a sigh to see that he’s likely going to also have to break Wangji out of this new habit of sharing his sleeping space with Wei Ying – it had taken a long time to break him of the habit of crawling in bed with Xichen in the middle of the night when Xichen had still been living with them, and something tells him that Wangji is going to be even more determined to keep up the behavior out of concern for Wei Ying and his already obvious desire to take care of him.

A problem for the future. For now there’s nothing else keeping him from going to the elders and so once he reminds Xichen to watch the younger pair carefully and order food to be brought to them all when Wei Ying wakes, he leaves again. He takes a moment to straighten his robes from where Wei Ying’s grip has bunched them and to comb his fingers through his hair to ensure it’s lying perfectly flat and straight down his back, though no amount of fussing and attempting to achieve perfection will raise the elders’ opinions of him, as he’s already aware. It still wouldn’t do to appear too rumpled despite what he considers the very valid excuse of having been traveling with three children for the last few days and not even allowed a bath before being summoned.

No matter. He knows what has to be done and to give into the anger it could incite in him would only make the experience even more unpleasant than it promises to be. Best to simply get it over with and spend the rest of the day attempting to figure out how he’s going to balance his usual duties to the Sect and to Wangji’s education with the new duty of teaching Wei Ying how to be…well. Something besides a half-feral street child.

The elders are, of course, already assembled when he arrives and he feels the weight of their cold, perpetual disapproval as keenly as ever as he kneels in front of them to offer them a greeting and begin his reports.

“The guards at the boundary reported an unexpected individual with you upon your arrival,” Lan Feng says after Lan Qiren has delivered his last account of the business he had discussed with Jiang Fengmian while in Lotus Pier. Her tone is just acerbic enough to be plausibly deniable but impart her displeasure with him nonetheless.

“A child from Yunmeng and a new ward of the Gusu Lan,” he replies with a nod in her direction.

“The children’s hall is not prepared to accept a new occupant.”

Lan Qiren very carefully doesn’t curl his hands into fists on his knees but he’s unable to keep his fingers from twitching slightly – he just has to hope that it goes unnoticed.

“I will be taking the boy in myself.”

The ensuing silence is heavy around his shoulders, full of the weight of the intense judgement he has become well accustomed to after feeling it for most of his life.

“That is inadvisable.”

“I understand it is not ideal, but I have already given the boy my word that I will take responsibility for him.”

“Your duties to the Sect and the Heirs take precedence over this...ward.”

“They do. The boy’s presence will not keep me from fulfilling them.”

“You were never meant to run the Sect,” Lan Yun intones. The criticisms that have already been levelled at him thus far have come from several of the elders, but they all go still at this (rather unnecessary) reminder of Lan Qiren’s inherent shortcomings. Lan Yun is the oldest of the lot as far as Lan Qiren is aware - certainly his word carries the most weight. He is also, in Lan Qiren’s experience, extremely opinionated and unafraid of offending anyone at all. “Your work is still standard at best, nothing like what we expected of Qingheng-Jun prior to his indiscretion. You should focus on improving for the sake of the Sect rather than wasting your energy on a stray child from Yunmeng.”

The general murmurs of assent that pass through the gathered elders have Lan Qiren’s neck tingling and he digs his fingertips into the tops of his thighs just above his knees to attempt to ground himself.

“I am aware of my faults,” he says with his gaze trained on the floor beneath him to avoid letting any of them see the anger burning in his gaze for their flippant dismissal of him, as if he hasn’t known his entire life that he has never been as favored as his brother, never meant to do great things. As if he doesn’t know he is absolutely no one’s first choice for much of anything.

The elders have always wished Qingheng-Jun would lead them. His nephews have wished their whole lives that their parents would raise them, particularly their mother prior to her passing. He is a good teacher, an excellent one even by many standards outside of Gusu, but there are others within Cloud Recesses who have more experience than him who would be chosen before him no matter the circumstances. The only thing in which he truly excels is his knowledge of the rules, but that is only to be expected. All Lan disciples know the rules, it’s not impressive that he does as well even if he has a better understanding of those rules than many would be able to claim.

Yes, Lan Qiren is extremely aware of his faults, as he has never been allowed to forget them.

“I am aware of my faults,” he repeats into the heavy silence. “However, I have an obligation to this boy. He is alone in the world and frightened. I do not believe he will excel with any guidance but my own at this time.”

“Beware of pride, Lan Qiren,” Lan Feng warns instantly, to remind him yet again that none of them thinks he has any noteworthy skills to speak of.

“It is not pride, but humble observation. I understand that had someone else found the boy there are many who would raise him better than I will. However, he has grown to trust me these last few days and I believe he will be open to instruction from myself before anyone else with whom he is unfamiliar. I will prepare him to take classes alongside his agemates when the time comes, and then I will turn his education over to those who are more qualified to do so.”

He does not say that Wangji will likely become inconsolable if they attempt to separate the two, as that would only prove his defective parenting in being unable to control the emotional response or Wangji’s behavior - or perhaps even in encouraging the boy’s affection in the first place. He does not say that Wei Ying will likely lash out should he feel himself backed into a corner in which he doesn’t feel safe, as that will only be further proof to them that Lan Qiren will be unable to handle raising such a difficult child along with his other duties. He does not say that once upon a time he had been the top academic in his classes and that, should they allow him a proper chance to teach he might continue to improve enough to meet their standards, as that would show ingratitude and perhaps the threat of pride again, that he thinks himself capable of becoming better than the current teachers who have been instructing the Lan youth since he had been a child.

He learned very quickly after being thrust into his current position in life that anything he says to the elders beyond that which is absolutely necessary could easily turn into yet another weapon in their hands, and so he says the bare minimum and accepts their displeasure with him as steadily as he can bear.

“The moment this responsibility becomes too difficult for you to maintain, you will relinquish the boy to a more appropriate situation,” Lan Yun declares. “We will closely monitor the boy’s behavior and studies to ensure you are not neglecting this responsibility you have taken on.”

It’s the same thing they said to him when he took Xichen in following his birth, and Wangji’s as well. Lan Qiren bows fully both to acknowledge the threat of losing the children he loves due to his own incompetence as well as to take his leave.

“This humble one thanks the elders for their wisdom,” he barely manages to say through the tumultuous thundering of his emotions. He stands and retreats with his head held high and shoulders braced against the stares that follow him out of the room like an angry ghost at his shoulder.

He doesn’t breathe easily again until he’s nearly all the way back to his rooms, but he knows already that he’s in no position to attempt to be calm and collected for the children as he needs to be and so he takes a different path to begin walking the familiar track that marks the perimeter of the wards that protect the inner residences and main pavilions of Cloud Recesses.

He’s constantly aware, of course, that the Sect as a whole (not just the elders) is watching and waiting for the day he fails. There probably isn’t a day that the knowledge of it doesn’t cross his mind, though after over a decade of it he can typically ignore the way it makes his shoulders tense and his gut feel empty and hollow. He has long since resigned himself to doing what must be done on his own and being judged for it at every step of the way. And yet, for some reason, his discussions (if they can be called such) with the elders never fail to make him feel like a much younger man again, still reeling from the whirlwind of his brother’s misbehavior and subsequent isolation and suddenly being handed the reins his brother had so carelessly tossed aside - all for the love of a woman who didn’t even love him in return.

He had never been prepared for Sect leadership. Qingheng-Jun had been, for his entire life, the golden child, the pride of the Lan, perfectly primed to take their father’s place when the time came. And he had. He had been allowed to grow into the position, the expectations. He had been carefully trained first at their father’s knee, and then at his side until the mantle of Sect Leader was comfortably and naturally passed from father to son when their father had been ready to retire. He had retreated from the world confident in the security of his sons, Qingheng-Jun bringing honor to the ancestors and to the Sect, and Lan Qiren doing his duty to support the Gusu Lan in whatever way he could with his average cultivation and unwavering loyalty.

He had never once been expected to lead the Sect, or to even provide heirs let alone raise them. No one had ever expected much of him at all, really – he was only the spare, the emergency plan, the lackluster younger brother who paled in comparison next to the radiance of Qingheng-Jun.

It had never truly bothered him until the day all eyes had suddenly turned to him and found him wanting, but unfortunately necessary.

He has spent every day since fighting to be respected, fighting to show that simply because he was unprepared that does not make him unfit for the responsibilities laid at his feet. He had done as much as he possibly could to learn what was needed without the elders’ help, as their guidance in those early days had visibly come with the cost of any burgeoning respect they may have for him, any potential hope at all in his capability.

He had barely begun to feel he had his feet under him when word had reached him that Madam Lan was pregnant. He supposes now, with a wry, dark sort of amusement, that his brother had at least performed one more useful function in his seclusion (even though it was clear evidence of his breaking it) and provided the Sect with the heirs that Lan Qiren very heartily did not wish to. Not only did the mechanics of such a thing make him feel like running to seclude himself from the rest of the world as well, but the idea of passing his unlucky reputation onto whatever children he could help produce had always made him equally ill at ease. At least Xichen and Wangji are free of the taint of his direct lineage, for surely any heirs of his blood would face the same sort of unfavorable scrutiny as he has himself. Xichen and Wangji, though they’re being raised by him, are already the darlings of the Sect for which he’s immensely grateful.

Though Xichen’s birth had been another addition to his responsibilities, it was one that Lan Qiren had welcomed in a way he never would have expected of himself prior to the precise moment Xichen - then a wide-eyed infant with a perfect little shell-pink pout and full cheeks - had been carefully placed in his arms. He had reached one chubby hand up as if to touch his face, Lan Qiren had leaned down to allow it, and in that moment he had promptly lost a piece of his heart to his first nephew – a piece he was more than happy to lose.

Despite Lan Qiren’s numerous shortcomings and failures in raising him, Xichen is already showing promising signs of growing up into an incredible man. He will lead the Sect well, of that Lan Qiren is certain, but he also knows that Lan Xichen will be kind and generous nearly to a fault, and he already cares deeply for every person he meets. He’s good, genuinely good, down to his core, and the Sect adores him, including the elders. Lan Qiren can only be grateful that he’s so far free of the stain of the previous generation.

When Wangji had followed after his brother five years later, Lan Qiren had been much more prepared to shoulder the burdens of parenthood and juggle them easily with the demands of Sect leadership, though no one but him seemed to believe that to be the case. The elders had watched him like a hawk for years after Wangji’s birth, waiting for him to slip, for the boys to show signs that he was anything less than attentive and dedicated to their improvement, or that he was so engrossed in their development that he was letting the Sect fail for their sakes.

He can recognize now with chagrin that the external pressure had led him to be stricter than he would have otherwise felt inclined to be with the boys. Xichen, with his gentle nature, shows fewer signs of this error. But Wangji, who is so like Lan Qiren in too many ways to count, has taken every stern word to heart and become such a serious little thing that Lan Qiren knows even Xichen sees enough of it to be worried on his brother’s behalf. Lan Qiren had worried when he fell silent following Madam Lan’s death that that would be the excuse the elders needed to take the boys away from him, but thankfully they only see it as a phase, a sign that he’s taking the rules to heart perhaps a little too much but an extreme that he will ultimately grow out of. Lan Qiren, who often wishes he had the luxury of keeping utterly to himself in such a way, is not as convinced that that will be so. He keeps this fear to himself for Wangji’s sake.

Either way, the boys are both praised at every turn for the credit they are to their Sect, and Lan Qiren is more grateful for their presence in his life than he will ever find the words to express. His own stain on the Lan legacy will be short lived in the grand scheme of their history, and his only hope is that Lan Xichen shines so bright in his adulthood that Lan Qiren’s failures will be forgiven him.

As the sun dips deeper in the west Lan Qiren takes note of the time almost without thought and turns his slow steps towards home again, aware that Wei Ying will wake soon and he should likely be there when he does. He doesn’t know yet what kind of child Wei Ying will prove himself to be when some of the rough edges of his experiences have been sanded away and his behavior corrected into proper paths, but he hopes that he too will live to outshine Lan Qiren as a final proof to the elders that bringing him into the Sect wasn’t a mistake. After so many years of fending for himself and being on his own Lan Qiren can’t help but think that Wei Ying deserves support, a family, a place to call home that is capable of being kind to him.

Lan Qiren may never in this life earn the support or affection of the Lan simply for the crime of being born second-best and forced to take the helm despite that, but by the gods he’s going to ensure that the children in his care will never have reason to doubt that they’re appreciated and loved here in their home.

#the untamed fanfic #wangxian #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Lan Xichen #Lan Qiren #This is the last LQR chapter! The rest of the fic (as far as I'm aware lol) will be from the kids' perspectives #I miss writing the babies' voices and I think I've done enough of explaining LQR's inner narrative to reasonably switch away from him now #and now that they're in Cloud Recesses it's time to see how the babies handle all the changes in their lives <3

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the-other-art-blog · 3 years

Text

Little Women (book): Chapter 44 My Lord and My Lady!!!

I mean just the title of the chapter makes me smile. Seriously, why didn’t Greta adapted this chapter??? It’s about money and art. It was perfect for her movie. I’m sorry, I just can’t get over the fact that Timmy had no idea this happened. But anyway, this is about the book. There’s so much to discuss, this will be long.

Come on, Laurie goes to Orchard to get Amy back home because he can’t possibly find something. Sweetheart.

They do a simile with the weather that’s beautiful and it’s basically Laurie saying that Amy keeps him grounded and focus. And Amy replies saying,

‘Lovely weather so far. I don’t know how long it will last, but I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.’

This is a recurrent quote. When I read it the first time, I thought she was talking about her alone. But she’s talking about the marriage. Everything so far has been amazing, love among roses. But she knows there will be difficult times and she’s ready to take them. This is bittersweet because we know Amy will suffer multiple miscarriages before their Bess is born. And even then, she’s going to be a frail child.

I read an article that blamed Amy for discouraging Laurie in his pursuit to become a composer. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Since Laurie was in Vienna, he realized he didn’t have what it takes to be a genius, just like Amy. Then he began craving for hard and earnest work. Now, back in Concord Laurie is proud to say he will continue his grandfather business. Amy’s parents are very pleased to hear that. I’m sure everyone was surprised to see the changes in Laurie, from the boy who didn’t even want to go to college to an honest and hard-working man, responsible for his own family.

But Amy also has plans. She’s going to be a lady of society, as any woman who married into a family like the Laurences should have done. But they also plan to be a good influence in that society.

Once their gone, Mr. and Mrs. March talk about them. They both agreed they are happy and that it will last. Marmee is especially proud. She was worried when Amy told her about Fred Vaughn, but now she is relieved that Amy knew best and chose the best man for her. Jo agrees, though she still longs for the same happiness. But it quickly fades because Mr. Bhaer enters the house!!! These two are such dorks.

Going back to Amy and Laurie... it’s just too amazing.

Everyone, except Jo, knows Bhaer is there for Jo. Amy is a bit worried that Laurie may be jealous. It’s not that, just that he would prefer Bhaer to be younger and richer. He just wants a good life for his best friend/sister. Amy reminds him a woman should never marry for money. Ahh this is great!

‘I’d have married you if you hadn’t a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you.’

‘You don’t really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn’t believe that I’d gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake.’

I’m just going to leave those quotes for anyone who thinks she married Laurie for money. Laurie says he and Marmee talk about that. If anything, what attracted her the most, or at least initially to Laurie was his looks.

‘Yes, I am, and admiring the mple in your chin at the same time. I don’t wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I’m prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don’t laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me.’ And Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.

This is Amy. She is a visual person and enjoys seeing beautiful things, so forgive her for choosing the most handsome man in town.

Amy does show some insecurities towards Jo but Laurie reassures he’s happy with her. So then they discuss a way of helping Jo and Bhaer. Because that’s Amy’s dream: to help others. She says it over and over again!!! They could have gone to donate to charities like so many other rich people do, but instead the decide to help talented people achieve their artistic ambitions.

It’s so fitting. Both Laurie and Amy gave up their dreams of being famous artists because they didn’t have genius. They could have grown bitter about it. But instead they decide to help those who really have genius. I love them.

Amy is also a very grateful person. She acknowledges that she achieved her current status because she got help from lots of people. I don’t remember if the whole “I want to make my own way into the world” conversation actually happened in the book. But Aunt March was right in the 2019 movie. No one, NO ONE succeeds on their own. We all need people,we all need help. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Jo herself needed her family, the public and the editors to succeed. The important thing is always to say “thank you”.

Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me, and whenever I see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them, as I was helped.’

Greta exploited that first line in this quote during the whole press tour, but I’m not sure she remembers why Amy’s saying that. The point is, Amy wants to help girls achieve their dreams. And here’s another “prophetic” element. May Alcott Nieriker was not only a talented painter. She also wrote a guide for women called Studying Art Abroad and How To Do It Cheaply. I don’t have the actual information now, but I think she also wrote columns in a newspaper encouraging women to study art. Neither May nor Amy were Queen Bees, they wanted to succeed, but they also wanted other to be with them. That’s amazing.

Laurie is on board. I mean, they have grown so much. Both of them started as probably the most spoiled characters. And now they are deciding to become a philanthropist couple.

So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant home was more homelike because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest than they.

You can ship whoever you want, but don’t trash this couple cause they are nothing but kind, generous and grateful. And they’ve achieved it with each other’s help and love.

In my opinion, people who hate Amy and Amy and Laurie read the book until Jo rejects Laurie. Then they do a tantrum and stopped reading/ paying attention. Honestly, that’s the only explanation I can think of for all the hate Amy receives.

#little women #little women 2019 #amy march #amy and laurie #Amy x Laurie #Jo and Laurie #jo x bhaer #louisa may alcott #seriously what's wrong with people who hate Amy #ugh I can't #apparently no one is ever allowed to make one mistake ever #except if you're Jo or Laurie than you can screw up dozens of times and people will ignore it #isn't being a Christian means being able to forgive?#honestly Greta #you had so much material

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years

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Filth alphabet: Akutagawa

A=Aftercare

He doesn´t see the need for it since he doesn´t understand the concept of care, love and intimacy. But he will listen if you explain it to him, after you care for him, he understands it a bit better. It feels good, he feels safe and loved, so he tries to mimic the things you did to you.

After time he´ll do things on his own, his favorite is carrying you to the bath he prepared for you.

B=Body part

On him he doesn´t really like anything, his body is frail and reminds him of his own weakness. But after you told him that you like his eyes, he notices how they´re not as cold anymore, how they soften around you and that makes him smile, he likes it that he isn´t a monster to you.

On you he loves your lips the most, how they curl into the sweetest smile when he enters the room, how soft they are against his own.

C=Cum

If he can and you allow it he loves to cum inside of you, the image of his cum dripping out of you turns him on to no end.

He doesn´t cum a lot, but his orgasms are always very intense.

Cums way too early in the beginning, he still cums early but he can hold himself back a little longer now.

D=Dirty secret

He wants to tie you up with his Rashomon one time, but is scared that he´ll hurt you, so he hasn´t brought it up yet.

E=Experience

None. You are his first and only one, he wouldn´t even think about those things before he and you got together. And it took him a year to trust you enough to do anything remotely sexual with you, it´s a very slow progress and he´s not too great in the beginning, but he tries his best to please you.

He heavily relies on communication though, you have to tell and show him what he´s supposed to do.

F=Favorite position

He always needs some sort of eye contact during sex so you can reassure him that you´re okay and that he´s doing great. So probably missionary is his favorite since he doesn´t have to do anything complicated and can just enjoy his time with you.

G=Goofy

Have you seen this man?

He will be even more serious during sex than in his everyday life. You will have to tell him to loosen up a bit, because he´s so stern on pleasuring you.

H=Hair

He doesn´t completely shave, but he trims it and it´s always clean for you.

I=Intimacy

This is very important to him, holding you close is like heaven for him. Not the most romantic, but will make sure to give you compliments and let you know how beautiful you are.

J=Jerk off

Has never once masturbated in his life and doesn´t plan to.

K=Kinks

Akutagawa likes being in control and feeling strong, so power play is definitely up his alley. He´s very fond of bondage too, but it took him ages of research to figure out how it works. Has a praise kink.

L=Location

Not fond of public sex. You once had sex in his office and Dazai walked in, ever since then you only do it in your bedroom with the door locked three times.

M=Motivation

He´s hard to read and doesn´t really seek out sex on his own, he doesn´t feel desire the way others do. Very grateful whenever you initiate something, likes when you trail your fingeres along his neck and whisper your dirty thoughts in his ear.

When he´s stressed or had a shitty day, you can read him like a book. He either wants to be left alone or fuck you into next week to relieve some stress. If the latter is the case he will tell you bluntly.

N=No

Anything that hurts you, be that physically or mentally. He doesn´t want to be the monster everybody views him as. Not to you.

O=Oral

He´s not that good at it, he´s very rough with it and overstimulates you on accident. But if you tell him how to improve, he´ll do it and it´ll feel much better. Honestly after time he´s really good, likes doing oral on you because he´s proud to make you cum with just his tongue and/or fingers.

He however doesn´t really like it when you blow him, he doesn´t like being out of control and gets dizzy when you blow him. His cock is just very sensitive and he´s not used to it. Will let you do it though if you want it. Also he´ll get used to it, but he really needs baby steps.

P=Pace

He had trouble pacing himself in the beginning and started off way too fast, but again, after you tell him to adjust, he will. Overall he´s very hard and fast though. Slow sex happens when he´s missed you or when there´s an important date like your birthday or your anniversary.

Q=Quickie

Most of the times you have sex are accidental quickies since he cums so fast, but he´s not really the type to suggest quickies. He doesn´t like the idea of being used like that, it feels weird to him to just get down to business and disregard the love and care.

R=Risk

He hates the idea of trying new things spontaneously. But overall he´s not against spicing it up, you just have to tell him in time so that he can do research or you can explain it to him.

S=Stamina

Well, because of his health condition, he doesn´t last very long. 2 rounds at max. In the beginning you had to stop a lot of times because he had a coughing fit. He´s very embarrassed by it, but feels so loved when he sees your worried face and loves it when you take care of him.

T=Toys

Doesn´t see the need for it, he wants to be one to satisfy you, if he´d use a toy, he´d feel like cheating, like he wasn´t good enough.

U=Unfair

Hates teasing, especially being teased, so he only teases you the necessary amount.

V=Volume

Used to be super quiet (as in, not a single sound leaving his mouth, which quite frankly concerned you), because he´s embarrassed of his moans. But over time he lets go and makes all the sounds he wants. His moans are whiny and beautiful, they´re a bit higher than his speaking voice. His grunts however are lower.

W=Wildcard

He cried the first few times you gave him an orgasm.

X=X-Ray

It´s very pale and not too thick. Has a nice curve and not too many veins. Rather lengthy, maybe an inch above average.

Y=Yearning

He doesn´t have a high libido at all, but he´s always ready whenever you want him. Sometimes he has wet dreams or daydreams about your nightly adventures and then he´s a horny mess the rest of the day.

Z=Zzz

He has trouble sleeping either way, though he does sleep better in your arms.

The first few times he´d always wait until you were asleep and then get back to work, but over time he allowed himself to fall asleep with you as well.

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs hcs #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryonusuke #bsd #bsd imagine #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #bsd akutagawa

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years

Text

Handle With Care

A/N: Okay I know y’all are probably sick of the repetitive Crosshair X Reader works lately. But I promise it will all make sense soon. First and foremost, I’m working to dig deep in establishing some key points while the narratives move forward. Aiming for the full effect here. (Also, keep in mind that I’m reviving ‘Verd’ika’). The fic takes place sometime after ‘Reticle’, for reference. Sick Crosshair. Soft Crosshair. (I know, basically all of my works are that way) I will defend that moody sniper because in actuality, he is a very soft boi who not-so-secretly just wants to be loved and coddled, and that is the hill I’m dying on. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. [Warnings: None] @shadow-hyder @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @obiorbenkenobi @kriffingunlucky @karpasia @halzore @everyonehasanindividuality (Tag List is open:))

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Have you ever sneezed while your face is sealed airtight inside a bucket of plastoid?

News flash: It’s nearly as annoying as having a Yalbec male try to eat you alive—well, mate with you. Same difference, the sniper of Clone Force 99 will eventually come to find out.

The sneezing makes the air stagnant and it’s obnoxious, yet Crosshair is uncontrollably going on his fourteenth one in the short span of five minutes.

That’s completely normal.

The forebode of a creeping illness intensifies as the day progresses, and Crosshair finds himself growing more perturbed, fluctuating between hot and cold like an oscillating pendulum, and ticking like a time bomb waiting to go off, because of it. Tech’s face, scrunched with concern after having come at Crosshair with a thermal scanner, informs the sniper of a budding fever. But he’s not sick. Not at all.

He’s not sick, until your irresistible amiability convinces him that it’s okay to be, and that promptly earns him a spot snuggled in your lap, his stiff neck resting atop your thighs with only a slight begrudge to follow. His breaths are somewhat labored at the tightness seizing his chest. There’s a sharp pain running behind his eyes, and the feeling of suffocation is palpable—there’s so much pressure along his facial structure, his sinuses are burning. Yet he still manages to enjoy the way you’re running your fingers through the short fibers of his hair, nails scratching lightly along his temples and eliciting a stuffy hum of contentment from the miserable sniper.

Despite his unfortunate state, you’re having a rather lovely time. There’s no denying; you experience the swell of your already nurturing heart and an exhilarating thrill at the prospect of taking care of others—of Crosshair, specifically; ever the complex individual. You’ve long since established your solicit of such assistance, to which Crosshair slowly found himself relenting to the idea of as time paved the way. But the actual application of moments were rare.

It made the sniper slightly uncomfortable; the way his initial sneeze earlier that day had you immediately zeroing in on him with an intensity he believed only his sniper eyes were capable of. “I’m onto you”, your archly tone had soon informed, while a smile displaying nothing but affection immediately followed. Your height of perception rivaled his own, and extensive time spent with you reminded Crosshair that it was foolhardy to even attempt a facade, at this point. All it took was a beckoning of your index finger for the sniper to succumb to your care.

It’s every Clone’s most inward desire, really: to want, to crave the extended offer of a wholesome company that’s found beyond fellow Clone brethren. It’s but a dream. To take a beautiful soul by the hand and lead them past the doors of mass duplication—and in turn be lead—before traveling a ways until they each ascend the staircase of individuality; a spiraled one, snaking around itself yet still managing to differentiate. A Clone wants to usher you onto the same ship as them, wishes you to travel along the exact journey they’re on. It’s a never ending one, until it’s a short lived one. It surpasses beyond the surface level, transcending the artifacts of scars littering the planes of their battle-worn skin. It grants you a passage through the ancient cave of their emotions, where each broken piece you find along the way presents another opportunity for restitution, however minuscule. To say it’s a journey is only half of the intel.

Only half, but it’s progress for the sniper Crosshair. The thought worms it’s way past his sickly haze and warms him more than the herbal tea you steeped and promptly ordered him to indulge. He can’t exactly pay the same type of homage to the taste however, as he finds himself reflexively wrinkling his nose in disgust with each sip. The muted liquid didn’t taste near as good as one of his oldest companions that is Corellian Whiskey, in which he’s certain one long swig of will immediately restore his health to optimum performance.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” you let him down with pragmatism and a chuckle. “You need something that’s going to help you get better, not get you tipsy.”

You ignore his rising justifications, taking the empty mug that he downed through a swirl of complaints and placing it on the small stand beside the cot before opening the drawer to sift through the contents in search of the standby supply of anti-inflammatories. A sound of disappointment elicits as you turn up empty, and you gingerly begin to shift Crosshair off your lap in order to exit the room in continuing the search.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise gently, however, his fervent resistance halts any further movement.

“So this is it... you’re just gonna leave me here, sick and dying?”

The sight of Crosshair’s perceived indignation is beyond amusing to you. His voice is faint and the words are drawn out in attempt at gaining sympathy over your apparent ‘inhumane’ treatment to the frail sniper. You’re in the middle of convincing him of his long life ahead and encouraging him to drop the theatrics when goggled eyes peer in from the doorway.

“Need anything in here?” Tech’s oh-so-helpful self inquires. You note that there’s a thinly veiled mischievous ring to his question. Realizing there’s no negotiating with the over-exaggerating sniper, you’re thankful for Tech’s intercession, unbeknownst to him.

“Yes, actually; anti-inflammatories and some antihistamines, if you’ve got them? I’ve got a clingy, feverish assassin in my lap who I’m trying to convince isn’t dying from a cold.”

“I’m not clingy!” The sniper’s hoarse whine permeated, eliciting a snort from you that failed to overpower another round of his sneezing fit.

Tech’s eyes sparkled with mirth in mirroring yours, and he beamed knowingly. Words seemed to play at the tip of his tongue but he appeared to think better of it, instead responding with a succinct nod of his head before promptly making a retrieval.

It took seventeen seconds and approximately ten sneezes before Tech returned to the scene of Crosshair’s frustrated state now manifested as various obscenities. The engineer handed you the bottles of medication, and the whimsical glint returned once again. He backed out of the room slowly and with deliberation while keeping his eyes trained on the sniper, before addressing his older brother.

“Oh, by the way Crosshair: I’ve recorded the sound of your rather undignified whining; prepare for blackmail—” the pillow suddenly and aggressively sailing over your head towards the fleeing engineer had you ducking and trying not to develop your own state of wheezing from the laughter that ensued.

“TECH! I’m gonna kick your ass!” The raspy threat fell on deaf ears, for the cheeky youngest brother was long gone. Crosshair was left in the company of both your quietude and incessant coughing once again.

“If you don’t cough up a lung, first,” you address him in concern.

Crosshair’s eyes met the frown tugging your features. The cool pads of your fingers absently traced the line-work of reticle surrounding his right eye. The gesture bestowed a sense of comfort, and Crosshair allowed his contentment to echo in the space between. He reached up to capture your fingers in his own. The radiating heat from his increasingly flushed face was a stark contrast against your mild body temperature.

“...I feel terrible,” he allows himself the admission. It’s a work in progress: Crosshair’s understanding that he can truly be authentically honest in such company—a good kind of honest. Vulnerable, even. More communicative. You’re constantly testing his mettle and his ability to emote, and you manage to bring the sniper to his knees each time; though not out of defeat, not at all. You stroke his hair and that smile, it burns right through him. In all honesty, Crosshair would find a way to malinger nearly every day if it meant getting to be taken care of like... this. He confesses that it’s... different. It’s... nice—very nice. A rarity, but one Crosshair found himself to be enjoying a little bit more with each budding opportunity.

“I know,” you soothe. “Rest, ner cyare ram’ser.”

His fond expression at your doting soon donns a coat of revelation; an afterthought. “Actually, I think just a good smooch will do the trick for me, Doctor—best medicine there is,” he convinces, however weakly.

You snort incredulously. “You’d know this from experience? And for the last time, I’m no Doctor—you go around saying that and I’ll have some of the best Clone medics in the GAR greeting me with trivia, or something.” You briefly acknowledge the way Crosshair has conferred upon you the title of ‘Doctor’ ever since you patched up a nasty gash of his some time ago, and you find sudden hilarity in the picturesque scenario of having Clone Trooper Kix, profound medic of the 501st whom you’ve met a handful of times, suddenly taking a predilection to you because he thinks you’re some prestigious civvie medic capable of wrangling in even the Bad Batch.

Oh how that couldn’t be farther from the truth—the quartet of super soldiers hardly adhere to your advice or sound reason on a good day. You’ll be the first to admit: you have no control over those rowdy men.

The sniper shrugs, rolling his shoulders before tentatively returning to the comfort of your lap and sprawling out. He inhales deeply, and smoothly continues. “In theory, it’s the best medicine there is. So maybe we should, you know, test that out—”

Crosshair melted against the spontaneous velvet of hungry lips. In that moment, neither of you actually paid any mind to his sniffles or the adenoidal lilt of his voice that was now resonating. He tastes exactly as you remember; you’ve had a few previous engagements. Though few and far between, they leave you certainly not forgetful, and Crosshair is a man to relish in the sight of you imprinting your affection on him. The flight to blissful paradise is over before you know it as you retract and consider it a victory over the way Crosshair nearly whines at your absence.

“That’s all you get, ram’ser—just a taste for now to get you to shut your yap and rest.”

Crosshair regards you with as much indignation as he can muster. “You’re a cruel woman.”

You deflect with a smirk and assertion. “Yet here you are, coming back for more.”

“Because I can never get enough,” he defends.

“But you feel somewhat better at least, don’t you? Best medicine there is,” you smugly remind the ill sniper.

Crosshair’s eyelids grew heavy laden as he focused on the hot smolder benevolently spreading through his veins like a blessing; an antidote that is your delicious affection and strong medication. It’s beyond welcoming, and Crosshair can’t decipher whether the rising heat was from the fever, or your intoxicating taste, or both. While the sniper wasn’t absolute, he came to the fierce deduction that it definitely had something to do with you, and suddenly his head was spinning.

“Yeah... Verd... you taste way better than the Whiskey,” Crosshair slurred with realization while in his delirious state, barely above a murmur as he nestled his head further into your lap and Maker, drowsiness was forcefully threatening to claim him already and the medications had barely begun to take effect. Your serene embrace deserved utmost commending for rivaling Wrecker’s, who’s only other arms Crosshair ever felt secure within—prior to you.

Your brows arch as a playful smile materializes. “Verd?” You questioningly test the syllable on your tongue.

Crosshair manages a conspiratorial smirk through his thickening fog of exhaustion. “Yeah... ‘Verd’. You know... Verd’ika? It’s a... new nickname for you—the shortened version,” he struggles to explain—well, ramble is more like it—he’s uncharacteristically rambling at this point, and you absently wonder if Tech and his impish tendencies are just around the corner still recording the latest developments for future leverage.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this,” you endearingly point out. Slightly goading though, you realize, as Crosshair’s head abruptly twists to better regard you with nothing short of perceived offense. His pride appears to have momentarily overpowered his cold in favor of salvaging his dignity.

“I’m a sniper,” he fiercely explains. “I’m not adorable.”

“No, of course not,” you smoothly placate after smothering a laugh. His newfound nickname for you once again surfaces from your sea of thoughts. You pursue your lips in contemplation. “Verd... I like it.”

Crosshair smirks approvingly. “Can’t wait to hear all the nicknames you have for me, Darlin.”

Of course he would say that. Crosshair’s not dying from a cold, but he is dying to hear the mellifluous vocalization of all the different names you’ve stored up for him while finally in the midst of love making.

Good thing patience is his strong suit.

A textured palm lovingly rests against the expanse of his forehead while his fatigued fingers card through your hair before coming to a standstill. In the production of quietude, sniffles, and unspoken devotion, your eyes flutter shut as you lean down to gently bond your forehead with his own as his exhaustion finally establishes itself in the form of light snoring.

“Another time,” you hum assuredly.

#star wars #The Bad Batch #Crosshair #Crosshair X Reader #okay but I love the nickname ‘Verd’#my writing #it’s all disorderly organization #but we’re getting there folks #just bear with me #please trust the process #or don’t #I don’t even trust it myself aha #it’s a Lil thing

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bookandcranny · 3 years

Text

Beatrice - Chapter Two

“We parted on difficult terms. He had some ideas that… challenged my sense of professional integrity. I told him I was out and, well, men like that don't tend to handle rejection too gracefully.

All I know of him after that point is that he ran into some health problems and was forced to step down from his position. It may seem cruel but I think the world is better off for it. Rappaccini is no more qualified to treat the human body than I am to teach a dance class.”

Students filed into the corridor, too busy rushing to their next destination to take note of the visitor as she slipped into the lecture hall. Branching off from the main room itself was a small office, and inside, a lone professor plugging attendance data and homework grades into a blocky desktop computer. Gianna waited until the last lingering students dispersed before announcing herself with a knock on the doorframe.

The professor looked up. “Well look who it is.” She adjusted her glasses and squinted at the figure before her, taking all of her in from the spots of dribbled varnish on her shoes upward. “And who is it who stands before me? Not Virgil’s little girl.”

“I actually go by Gianna these days. Or Ms Alexander if you’re feeling formal,” she said wryly, though not without affection.

Her face broke out in a grin that deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She unhooked her cane from the arm of her chair and stood. “The last time I saw you, Gianna, you were half-- no, a quarter of your height and missing your front teeth. Time is a funny thing, isn’t it.”

“You’re telling me, Dr Bagnol.”

“Call me Petra. Or Professor if you’re feeling formal.” She winked and patted her arm. “We are colleagues of a kind now, aren’t we? I think you’ve earned the privilege.”

“I don’t know about that. You’re a biochemistry teacher and I fuss around with cotton swabs.”

“Technicalities! Don’t sell yourself short. You know, your father called just recently and when he told me you were going to be working here, I thought he was going to burst a lung the way he wouldn’t stop singing your praises.”

Gianna blushed at that.

“Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t set your sights higher than our humble university. I heard you were studying in Naples for a while.”

“I guess I was feeling homesick. Then I moved back in with my parents for a while and soon it was the opposite feeling.”

“Sick of home,” she supplied. “I know the feeling. I remember being your age, never wanting to be still for a moment. I was only surprised to hear you weren’t seduced away by foreign shores.”

She shrugged. “It was never about distance, I just needed to find a place where I felt like my life could really begin. And for right now I think that’s here.” Wanting to move the subject away from herself she added, “Dad says hi, by the way. He also says you need to start answering your email more than once a year.”

“Email. A man of literature like your father should give more respect to the written word. You tell him I won’t settle for less than a hand-scribed letter, like they did in the old days. I want to smell that clean valley air he goes on about etched into the paper.”

Gianna laughed. It was reassuring to find some things never changed. Although the silver in her hair had grown more prominent, Dr Bagnol was in many ways just the same as she remembered her. She never knew exactly how she and her father had met, only that it was while they were both still students, and that Petra had been a firecracker from the start, determined to surpass the role that had been imposed on her as a disabled woman in a field that was often unwelcoming to her. Though Gianna couldn’t say she knew her very well personally, the mythos that had been handed down to her had definitely played a part in her decision to become more independent.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Petra said. “Virgil dropped some hints that I should track you down once you started working here but I told him I wouldn’t have that kind of attitude. You’re a grown woman and you don’t need nannying. However,” She picked up a tote from her desk and slung it around her shoulder. “Since you came to me, I’m free to invite you to lunch.”

“Dad wanted you to check up on me?”

“Don’t take it for a lack of faith in you. Parents worry. It’s what they do. I’m sure he just wanted you to have a familiar face to turn to, should you need it. Come to lunch with me, Gianna. We’ll catch up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to--”

“I’m just going to keep asking until you give in. You know that, right?”

She felt herself soften under her insistence. It wasn’t as if she had other plans anyway. “Yeah, alright. That sounds nice.”

Petra led the way to a little sandwich shop not far off campus and, despite Gianna’s protests, insisted on treating her. The weather was kind to them that day so they took their lunch on the patio watching the cars crawl by to the rhythm of the neverending traffic. They sat and ate and spoke of nothing in particular until, without warning, Dr Bagnol’s gaze caught on something in the distance that put a troubled frown on her face.

“What is it?” She started to turn in her seat.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice had taken on a sharp quality that startled the young woman, but she caught herself and when she spoke again her voice was even and deliberate. “I thought I saw someone I knew. That’s all.”

Not satisfied with her answer, Gianna glanced over her shoulder. Across the street, standing motionless in front of the crosswalk, was the withered old man she had seen in the garden that first day: Beatrice’s father.

Ever since she had met her that one evening on the fire escape, Gianna had come into the habit of chatting with her almost every day. She couldn’t always guarantee she’d be home from work when Beatrice went out to tend the garden, but on the days she spied her from her window she never hesitated to climb down and visit.

Their chats together weren’t anything especially profound; she got the impression Beatrice really just wanted a friend to keep her company while she worked and Gianna was happy to provide. Often they kept the conversation light and simple. One would ask about the other’s day, or an interesting book they read, or something they heard in the news. Then Beatrice would eventually be summoned by her father or the memory of some other chore she had to attend to inside, and they would part ways.

On the occasions Beatrice wasn’t in such a pleasant mood however, no matter the initial topic the conversation would eventually find its way back to her father. Apparently he was, as Gianna had predicted, in a bad state and sick more often than not, and while Beatrice wasn’t his sole caretaker he trusted her more than the average nurse. The old man had been a doctor before being reduced to the role of patient, and a somewhat renowned one at that. He had homeschooled his daughter and taught her everything he knew. Now she was expected to apply that knowledge by taking on the bulk of responsibility for his care.

He was frail, she said, and the state of his health could be unpredictable, so she was on constant vigil. The only time she really had to herself was when he was asleep or on a rare errand, and she spent that time for the most part in the garden, the place that gave her the greatest sense of peace. It must have been hard on her, Gianna often thought, to be in the prime of her life and chained to his bedside. She understood though. If it had been either of her parents she was sure she would have done the same.

Knowing this also gave her some more sympathy for the old man. It painted him in a more human light, and she berated herself for ever being afraid of him in the first place. But seeing him here now, staring at her again with those scrutinous sunken eyes, resurfaced some of that initial dread. Dr Bagnol seemed to sense it too.

At the moment Beatrice’s father was wearing an unseasonal gray overcoat and carrying an old-fashioned black carpet bag. He lifted his free hand and slowly waved at Gianna, his stony features cracking with the barest attempt at a smile, which did nothing to soften his appearance. In fact, the more she looked at him the more leering the grin appeared to be.

“Don’t acknowledge him, Gianna,” said Dr Bagnol coldly.

“No, no, it’s fine. That’s just my neighbor.” She forced herself to give a friendly wave in return.

Petra reached across the table and grabbed her hand back. “What do you mean he’s your neighbor?”

“His building is next to mine. Why?”

She sighed shakily and gave another glance across the street. The man was beginning to shuffle away now, the retreating shape of him becoming swallowed up by the crowd of fellow pedestrians. Petra released her hand and drew in a tense breath. She steepled her fingers together over the table.

“His name is Giacoma Rappaccini. He was… I knew him, for a time. Not well. He came to me for some insight on a project of his years ago.”

“I heard he was a doctor,” Gianna offered. “You worked together?”

The professor chose her next words carefully. “Officially, he was a 'doctor of holistic and alternative medicines', before he retired that is. But he liked to dabble. Botany, chemistry, anthropology, philosophy. I knew when I met him that he was the sort of man who could spend a hundred years studying and still feel he hadn't learned enough.” She smiled ruefully. “It was a quality we shared, so I agreed to assist him.”

“Doesn't seem like you like the guy much.”

“We parted on difficult terms. He had some ideas that… challenged my sense of professional integrity. I told him I was out and, well, men like that don't tend to handle rejection too gracefully. All I know of him after that point is that he ran into some health problems and was forced to step down from his position. It may seem cruel but I think the world is better off for it. Rappaccini is no more qualified to treat the human body than I am to teach a dance class.

"He's a brilliant intellectual, sure, but he lacks any compassion, any consideration for the value of human life outside of points of data on a chart. He never cared about helping people with his medicine; he only ever cared about pushing his own limits. I think, in the end, he must have pushed himself too far."

Gianna sat and processed that. The man did give her the creeps but in the scant few times she’d witnessed him he’d never come across as malevolent, and Beatrice clearly loved him. Even on the bad days, she only ever spoke well of him, and it was hard to believe a girl like Beatrice could exist without having had a loving upbringing. Whoever her mother was or had been surely was loved by him as well. That was enough evidence for Gianna that he couldn’t be everything Petra claimed him to be.

“You said he’s your neighbor. Has he ever spoken to you? Invited you over?”

She shook her head. “Rumor has it he’s a pretty private person, and I’m not exactly going over to borrow a cup of sugar or anything.”

Gianna opted not to mention her afternoons with his daughter.

She relaxed at that reassurance. “Good. Take my advice and stay far away from Rappaccini. Nothing good ever came from getting too chummy with that man. Now, where were we?”

They changed topics and the conversation gradually returned to safer, more pleasant territory, but Gianna couldn't stop thinking about what she had said, about the old man and about the sweet but melancholy girl who was left alone with him.

-----

Against the professor’s advice, Gianna did continue meeting with Beatrice. It hadn’t even been a question in her mind whether she would. If anything, knowing about Petra’s history with Dr Rappaccini made her all the more curious about the young woman.

She reasoned that she was still technically acting in line with Dr Bagnol’s wishes; she hadn’t so much as glimpsed the shadow of the man since their lunch outing, and the more she spoke with Beatrice the more certain she felt that the daughter was nothing like the boogieman father Petra had described to her, however much of her telling was even accurate.

Beatrice was a sweetheart, bookish and reserved. She smothered laughs behind her hand and averted her eyes when she found herself caught in Gianna’s warm gaze. She was smart, happily listing off the latin genuses of her favorite plants and reciting lessons on phytochemicals she suddenly remembered (she might as well have been speaking latin here too, for as much as Gianna understood her) but at the same time strangely naive.

She had a boundless love for the world, yet Gianna got the impression she’d seen very little of it. Her eyes always went wide with interest when Gianna spoke of the traveling she’d done. Gianna never thought it was all that impressive but she would gladly talk about it, would say just about anything in fact, if it would get her to pay more attention to her than her flowers for a moment.

One time, Gianna playfully inserted a flirtatious Italian phrase into their conversation and was flustered to find Beatrice spoke it near fluently, as well as Spanish, Portuguese, Romanian…

“How many languages do you know?” she asked, stunned.

“Six,” she replied. “Not counting English. I’m thinking about trying Mandarin next, and I can read Arabic but can’t speak it. Honestly, I’m not great with the conversational stuff. I’m just good at memorizing new vocabulary and being able to understand multiple languages gives me a much wider variety of reading material.”

She spoke about her talent with words like it was a card trick she’d picked up in her spare time.

“What do you like to read about?”

That got her excited. When Beatrice got excited she found it harder to play coy or smother her emotions under a layer of cool composure, so of course Gianna tried to get her excited as often as possible.

“Everything. Anything. Father’s library is huge but it’s mostly textbooks and old scientific journals and stuff like that. Which is fine,” she added hurriedly. “I like to read those too, but what I really like to read is… romance novels.”

She confessed it like it was some deep dark secret, grinning and turning berry red beneath the brown of her skin. It occurred to Gianna quite suddenly that she was falling in love with her.

The panic set in right away. She had been happy to have Beatrice as a friend, tamping down her attraction in order to keep spending time with her, but now it was becoming clear that the dam wouldn’t hold forever. She needed to say something, if only to keep from leading her on, if only to keep her from getting the wrong idea or, heaven forbid, the right one.

What if she was straight? Did gay girls read romance too? Did gay girls wear their dresses long and their hair short like her? Gianna had crushed on butches, on femmes, on lipstick, chapstick, snapback, every kind of sapphic on the vast spectrum of preference and presentation, and she still couldn’t get a read on her. Beatrice seemed to be from another world, another time, somehow out of step with the rest of humanity. If she started dropping hints, she couldn’t predict if she would follow her lead or recoil in disgust and never speak to her again.

That night, Gianna had a strange dream. She might have expected she would, given how wound up she’d felt since their last discussion. The ghost of her had followed her up, back through the window of her apartment, and as she tossed and turned in bed that night she was dizzy with it.

In her dream, she found herself walking in a cathedral. As was the way with dreams, her sight was blurry and visions danced and flickered in front of her eyes before vanishing in the same instant. However even as the edges of her surroundings blurred like a bad photograph, she heard the echoing of her footsteps clearly, and felt the largeness of the air around her. There wasn’t another way to describe it, she thought, just a strange sensation of vast emptiness surrounding her, rendering her infinitely smaller by comparison.

She was a child now, and she was at a wedding. Or could it have been a funeral? There were flowers everywhere, but dark ones with big thorns and a smell that clung to the back of her throat and watered her eyes. She reached out to touch one and.

next chapter

#writeblr #chapter story #horror romance #gothic #lgbt #rappaccini's daughter #my writing

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter VII: Partium, The Party

Previous Chapter (VI: Venerum)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): comedy, drama, angst???

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

aphrodite was talking to ares, but it was the wrong ares.

five days of being a real doctor.

patients to take care of. medical records to keep up with.

for awhile, it seemed so quiet; life was nothing but tranquil for the last five days. even lucifer next door seemed so cooped up in his own patients to deal with that he hadn’t really had the time or energy to come and annoy you.

maybe it was zeus’ way of telling you that he was done making two areses play a never-ending war. all the two of you really needed was a reminder that you were both finally in a place you wanted to be. you’ve spent most of your life studying and drowning in words and science to get here; why waste that effort by throwing yourself into a wrestling ring with him?

but zeus also seemed to be petty with how much aphrodite he was offering you.

since eric sent you home last week, you haven’t seen him since. doctor kim hasn’t emailed you or told doctor choi that you were needed in the research department, neither were you available in any given point of time to even go to the research department to look for the intern.

you felt like a young girl who just realised she had the biggest, fattest crush on the cutest guy in school, and not being able to see him was arguably one of the most heart wrenching things you could possibly feel, even at this age.

he was kind, cute, not to mention lively and enthusiastic, and god, those eyes.

your scheduled rounds were about ten minutes away, so letting yourself fall back into the pillows and feathers and wedding bells in your head wasn’t so difficult. you’ve learnt to treat ten minutes like precious treasure despite being a full-fledged doctor for only five days.

the gentle ripples of the piano playing from the stereo behind you loosens all the knots in your shoulders, and your head falls back into the seat with your eyes fluttered shut.

eric son young jae...

ding

one of your eyes open upon the duty call from the office computer, and you notice the newest email coming from another staff member you don’t recognise. giving yourself a little shake, you sit back up and click on the newest email, the contents of it surprisingly not as important as you were predicting it to be.

from: lee sang yeon (asst. head of dept)

to: the neurology dept, the neuro-research dept

subject: the NRD quarterly party

dear all,

every three months in a year, the neurology department (NRD) has a strict tradition of throwing a party to celebrate and congratulate the hard work all the doctors in our department have put in.

in these quarterly parties, we sing cheers to successful operations with high-risk, prestigious achievements and research findings, and new doctors after their 2-week-mentee period has ended.

this year shall not be any different.

despite the NRD’s unofficial events management team having some trouble finding a location to throw our party, we are pleased to share our gratitude to our new doctor, lee hyunjae, for offering his home for this grand celebration.

the party will be held this friday (two days from now) at the following address attached to this email.

do inform either me or doctor choi young joon if you are unable to be present.

thank you, and we see you there!

oh, for fucks’ sake.

of all places?

a soft sigh exhales through your nose and you minimise the window, gathering your pens and patient files to begin on your rounds.

the hallway of the ward spaces come into view once you exit the lift, and you were just about to turn into one of the wards that had three patients in them.

“good morning mrs kang.”

the voice halts you in your tracks, and you back up against the wall so nobody in the ward sees you.

“good morning doctor lee, how are you doing today? your rounds are never this early,” the frail lady, who was your patient, sounded so calm and relaxed; you could almost imagine the look on her face.

you remember the first time you met her. mrs kang was previously doctor choi’s patient, so she first saw you when both you and lee hyunjae were trailing him. she was initially cold and reserved, even to doctor choi, but with the both of you, she looked at you like she was looking at her own children.

“i decided to pop by my patients earlier today to chat with them, see if they understand why they’re really in the hospital,” you hear the clacking of the clipboard that was slotted into a holder at the end of the bed, and for a moment you wonder why he was even bothering himself with your patient. “sometimes older patients don’t really grasp the importance of their health and they just go along with the flow while their kids admit them to the hospital.”

a pause.

“how is mr yoon over there? he’s your patient, right?”

“mr yoon’s doing alright, but he’s definitely had better days,” the clipboard slides back into the slot at the edge of the bed, and you hear his footsteps shift around in the ward. “how are you doing? how’s doctor l/n treating you?”

“oh, she’s wonderful, sometimes i wonder why i couldn’t have two doctors because i’d definitely have the both of you to take care of me in my time here.”

that last line pulled on your heartstrings, and you know it was terribly unprofessional of you to even feel it, but your heart shattered upon her words.

mrs kang was a amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) patient and she was only deemed as low-risk because doctor choi gave her another year to live; all you had to do was make sure her condition didn’t spiral.

yet, it was difficult to swallow that she was aware her time was limited, and there was nothing she could do about it. if lee hyunjae has read her patient records, then he would know why she said that.

you hear a chair get lifted off the ground and it sets down barely a second later, a soft shuffling motivating you to angle your head into the ward, keeping most of your body outside.

the sight of him sitting by the hospital bed, by your patient, with absolutely no clue you were standing right outside, rippled gentle chills throughout your body. the view was so rare and unfamiliar, the disbelief that filled your chest was almost difficult to contain.

“rest assured, we will stay with you for as long as you need. if doctor l/n or doctor choi isn’t around to attend to you, then i will, alright?”

mr yoon coughs loudly, and lee hyunjae’s attention gets snatched away.

“give me a moment, would you?”

the chair doesn’t make a sound as he carefully gets up and returns to his patient, and you grasp this chance to walk in to avoid creating an awkward situation.

“good morning, mrs kang,” a polite smile automatically surfaces on your lips, and you pick up her records to tally with the one you had. “how are you feeling today?”

“i’ve had better days but definitely better than yesterday. how are you?”

“i’m going to a party on friday night, jealous?”

she scoffs before bursting into soft laughter, the sound of her happiness when you teased her making your heart feel so warm and at ease. your eyes and hands start to wander around her iv drip and her medicine schedule located by the side of her bed, and you could feel her eyes follow your every move while she comes down from her high.

“i met my husband when i went to the craziest party i had in my life,” the little story hugs your heart with warm arms while you click your pen and jot down some routinely checks.

“maybe you’ll meet yours this friday,” her eyes were glistening with such wonder, you had to physically restrain yourself from souring your nose.

“i pretty much already know everybody who’s going to the party this friday,” a pout on your face causes her to chuckle.

“staff party?”

“yeah.”

“maybe you’ll find out that someone you already know is the right one for you.”

“oh, god forbid that happens. i’m fine on my own and i always will be,” a scoff rumbles in the back of your mouth and you side-eye her as you finish up your checks.

“that’s what everybody says until they find the right one.”

you provide her with a small smile, swiftly double-checking all her needs. your pen was jotting down the last round of checks before her attention rides past you.

“goodbye, doctor lee!”

“bye, mrs kang. rest well, and i’ll see you tomorrow when i come to check on mr yoon.”

how was it that the grin on her face was given and caused by lucifer? watching him interact with her so carefully and kindly made you think you’ve just been fighting with a twin brother instead.

there was absolutely no way that it was the same person.

but you couldn’t deny the admiration for his professionalism and his dedication to his job. he didn’t need to care or have such a candid conversation with mrs kang, especially not when she wasn’t even his patient.

not just that, he didn’t even say anything horrible about you.

he could’ve, but he didn’t.

it made you feel slightly guilty, but where there was guilt, there was resent; there was a reminder that he spent half his life trying to mess with yours. his professionalism didn’t warrant any change in attitude from you.

friday comes by in a flash, and the sudden realisation that you were going to be stuck in hell the entire night, pretending like you weren’t, made you want to hurl your lunch.

eric was going to be there, and you haven’t seen him in almost a week. you weren’t entirely sure why though; firstly, because you didn’t ask anybody why you weren’t needed at the research department -- there was no reason to. secondly, doctor kim looked like he was having fun dumping a lot of the tinier pieces of research required on him. so while you were making your rounds and being the doctor you were now, eric was probably suffocating from the mounts of research information doctor kim was allocating him.

you couldn’t remember the last time you decided wearing jeans and a one-sleeved top was a good idea, but you did it anyway. your face was caked with more makeup than you usually wore to the hospital, only because you were ready to let yourself go and really soak yourself in the idea of a party, not caring that everybody there was going to be a qualified neurologist or research officer.

you had one goal tonight, and that was to win your aphrodite over.

the house looked like a set from a horror movie; you know, the one where you walk in thinking everything would be perfect but everybody dies.

maybe it was just your hatred for the owner.

“HEY!” the door swings open when you knock on it, and the unusually loud music was literally making eric scream over the bass thumping throughout the walls of the house. “was just wondering when you’d get here!”

your ankle boots give you an extra height boost, so eric was just slightly above eye level now. he takes the pack of beer from your hands and nods you into the house, a couple of other neurologists you recognise from regularly walking past them greeting you.

“where’s doctor lee?” your voice was literally inaudible, but you could hear the strained vibrations in your throat as he places the pack of beer on the kitchen counter.

“who? oh!” his eyes dart behind you and he tip-toes, craning his neck to look for the person you asked for. “i think he’s in the living room talking to someone!”

the first reaction to his response was to turn around and search for lucifer, wondering who in the right frame of mind would even want to entertain him. but you remember all the love letters he received throughout school, so it wasn’t a surprise when you see him chatting with a female doctor.

his lips were moving, and he was nodding every other second, looking like she was pi telling the story of being stranded in the middle of the ocean.

he suddenly looks up, and your eyes involuntarily lock for a moment. the non-physical contact drills shivers down your spine when you realise the last time you even looked at him was a week ago, when you saw him in the carpark before and after you tripped into eric’s arms.

eric’s voice tears your attention away from lee hyunjae though, and you lean your torso over the kitchen island to watch him fill two cups with punch.

“are you alright with punch?” his eyes look up at you through his lashes, pushing one cup across the table to you. “i normally don’t offer beer to girls.”

a chuckle pulls your lips apart, and the punch washes down your throat easily. “‘normally’, huh?”

he notices the mockery in your voice and he smiles, that gorgeous sight forcing butterflies into you.

"doesn't it feel like it's been forever since we last met?" he gestures for your cup and you slide it back to him.

"it's been a whole week," you pause and walk around the kitchen island so that he wouldn't need to risk spilling the drink all over the surface if he wanted to slide it over again. "my duties officially started this week and doctor kim didn't need us over at the research department."

"ohhhhh, so that's why..."

"you sound disappointed," you rest one hand against the kitchen island, barely keeping an arm's length distance away from him.

"i was looking forward to hanging out with you more, and i considered going over to the neuro department to look for you but i was afraid i was going to be disruptive," he hands you the cup, and you lean one hip on the edge. the drink in the cup was swirling in circles while you watched him fill his own, and from the corner of your eye you catch lee hyunjae talking to another female doctor, this time right at the foot of the stairs near the entrance of the kitchen.

"actually--" he pulls the cup away from his lips just as he was about to take a sip. blinking at him as he whirls around the kitchen before returning with a napkin, pulling out a pen from a drawer that you didn't even know why it was there, he begins jotting down his... number?

"here's my number," the blue ink on the napkin was a little pathetic, but it was adequate for all the digits to show.

you do a little imaginary punch of triumph into the air, your chest feeling a little weightless when he pushes it across the counter to you. "drop me a text and we'll hang out. even after my intern ends, we can totally get a drink together!"

blood and shyness rush up to your face, and you thank the house for having the worst lighting ever to hide your blush.

"my phone's dead and it's rude to ask for someone else's phone to save my number in."

"aw, you're such a sweetheart," the coo that comes off your tongue was packed with innuendo and you push yourself away from the table so you could shove it into your pocket. but the friction between your shoes when you make a misstep pushes you off your balance, you fall again, straight into eric's arms.

because of the slight change in height, eric now has his arm wrapped around your waist. his chest becomes your landing space for your palm, and your legs become softer when you look up through your mascara coated lashes at him.

"you really need to work on your balance."

the butterflies in your stomach intensify their movements when he pulls you up, and your arms were the only thing keeping the two of you apart.

"i do, don't i?" the blaring noise of the music gets cancelled out, and you catch the moment that eric hesitates before he leans forward into you. his chest starts to push your hands over his shoulders and the kiss becomes like a dream.

subconsciously, you start cancelling out the loud music, and for a moment you were grateful that everybody else was probably too occupied screaming at whoever it was they were talking to.

neither of your lips move, making the kiss so soft and warm and fuzzy.

it didn't last very long, but it was long enough for you to taste the bit of beer he probably had before you came.

eric slowly pulls away, his eyes immediately searching for yours to make sure you weren't in any way uncomfortable.

"oh," the realisation sinks in, and his hold around you loosens. "i'm sorry, i didn't--"

"no, no, it's fine," he releases you, and you suck your lips between your teeth, slightly desperate to taste the rest of him in your mouth.

"i'm... i'm gonna go catch up with the other... people," the effort to try to mask his embarrassment was so astoundingly adorable, you couldn't resist the large smile that broke out on your face. "i'll catch you later."

he gives you an awkward wave as he runs off, and you turn your body to look for the pack of beer you brought. your mind relentlessly throws you back to that kiss and you replay it a billion times in your head, the alcohol in the beer only making you fall more in love with something that was already over.

"hey, doctor l/n, right?"

the voice was unfamiliar, and you look up to see someone you've only seen in pictures in doctor choi's office.

"oh, yes, i am," hurriedly gulping down the beer in your mouth, you put the can down and pat your palm on your jeans. "i'm guessing you're... doctor lee sang yeon?"

he nods and offers to shake your hand, which you gladly take. there was a can of beer in his free hand as well, and it felt like he deliberately displayed it to you so you wouldn't feel too awkward.

"mhm, my apologies that i haven't been around to welcome you and... doctor lee hyunjae, was it?"

ew.

"oh, right, yeah."

"i was away the last two weeks because i was hired as a short term lecture in a local med-school."

“that’s so cool,” the beer can finds your lips again and you take a big gulp.

you spend easily the next hour talking to sang yeon, who you found out was the hospital’s youngest assistant department head.

not only that, he even praised your research work. apparently, doctor kim had already read both yours and lucifer’s research reports and both provided him with fascinating results.

but what was even more gratifying was that lee sang yeon never said a word about lucifer’s report. drinking beer while listening to sang yeon talk about your report was like eating sugar or a tub of ice cream.

most of the night was reserved for talking to lee sang yeon, looking out for eric and seeing his bright smile whenever he catches you looking at him. occasionally, doctor kim would come round the kitchen looking for more beer, but doctor choi was always around to stop him.

the night slowly settles in, and you could tell it was getting late when some of your colleagues who you just met began to leave the house.

you would’ve too, but eric was still here.

worry and displeasure start to creep up on you like mike on halloween when you spot lucifer talking to eric, but judging by the smile spread across his face, lucifer wasn’t doing much besides making the little puppy happy.

one of your colleagues was going off about one of her patients the previous year, so your attention felt so oddly torn.

nonetheless, it was slightly sickening to know that though aphrodite was talking to ares, it was the wrong ares.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter VIII: Invidia

#hyunjae #the boyz fanfic #hyunjae fanfic #lee hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #timetohajima

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