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softrozene · 3 years

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Receiving a Hug from Their Crush

Anonymous requested: Hi my friend ! I hope all is well in your life ! can i please ask a little scenario for Rob Lucci, Kuzan and Killer who receive an unexpected hug from the person they secretly have a crush on ? how would they react ? make it as soft as possible and maybe a little nsfw if you want, thanks in advance 🤭

Mhm- I could not really see them acting “inappropriately” in this scenario so I just had them have a few inappropriate thoughts. Since these characters come off aloof, I had to give the Reader a “soft” personality- I do hope that is alright! Besides that, this so fluffy and came out longer than expected- I hope you enjoy this hon! I hope all is well in your life too anon!

Killer, Kuzan, Lucci x Reader (Gender Neutral/Nonbinary)

Warnings: Fluff- Suggestive thoughts, these characters are flustered. Uh, I know Killer is in the wano arc but I am not caught up to that so he may seem a little ooc since I am only using what I have seen from him in the Sabaody arc!

Words: 1673

Killer-

Killer felt great- His captain must feel greater. They after all made it into the New World. They feel unstoppable which of course is a bad thing, but one that they will bask in until they meet their match.

For now, Killer wanted nothing more but to continue to feel the excitement the crew is feeling. Even more so- Seeing that smile on your face. It has been a while since you joined their crew per Kid’s request (more like demand but hey, Kid knows when he sees talent).

So, it took a while for him to figure you out- Especially since you seemed so… Kind. It is normal to be kind to friends and the crew but even to strangers you were, and it threw him off. Once he found out you had no ulterior motive, he realized… He actually liked this soft personality.

It was a nice contrast to the mostly hostile personality the crew has to strangers. Though- It gave them all the need to protect your naivety. They did not mind at all but after a while for Killer- He realized that he had a crush on you.

It was weird for him, but it made him seek you out more out of anyone else in the crew. It turned out to be the right move because you understand him. His rather silent approach to people. You understood that and did not press him to talk to you unless he wanted to every now and then- Even then you were happy to carry the conversation.

You even made his meals after finding out he preferred noodles because of his mask. You took it upon yourself to make them- And it warmed his heart.

Because of this crush- Killer has experienced many new feelings, some of them more heated than others. For example, whenever you talked to him and leaned in further than what he is normally used to- He could not help his mind wander to the warmth your body created and how it would feel against his.

He longed for it but of course, it is just a crush. He knows better. He does not try to pursue these feelings either- Not wanting to get emotions involved or danger the crew.

That is the idea until you do something that makes his brain have a short-circuit.

Just one day after making him some dinner separate from the crew- You place the bowl of pasta down in front of him and proceeded to hug him. That… Sent a shock through his whole body. It was totally unexpected. After knowing you for a long while he did not take you as the touchy type and now that you actually hugged him, no matter how brief it was, he realized- He enjoyed it.

He enjoys your touch, and his mind wanders more. Screw logic- You are worth pursuing and he vows to make his feelings known.

Kuzan (Aokiji)-

“Why must you bother the new recruits?” Sengoku questions.

Kuzan yawns, completely not interested in this conversation. He is here for one sole reason instead of biking around the world, and it is because of you- Not the new recruits you are currently training. He sure did not mean to make them cry- He just pointed out how their forms were not useful unlike you who tried to encourage them to use whatever forms they liked as long as they followed the rest of your training.

“I will be on my way soon enough,” Kuzan murmurs.

Sengoku sighs knowing this is not going to go anywhere and neither is Kuzan. This happens too far often and all because Kuzan took an interest in a fellow marine. Completely inappropriate in Sengkou’s mind as the boss, but he allows it as long as it does not interfere with their marine work.

“It is (Name), isn’t it? Fine- Go ahead. I will tell them they are free of their duties but only for the night. These recruits need their basic training fully finished by the end of the week,” He mumbles giving in.

Kuzan just smiles at this. This is how it usually goes when he comes back to the marine headquarters. He longs to just either train with you one-on-one or steals you away- Or his personal favorite, take over the training session in an attempt to impress you.

However, he is not in the mood today. He longs just for a nap with your presence and then he can be on his way. It is easiest for everyone to let Kuzan spend time with you in order for him to get his work done. It could not be even more obvious to everyone too that he has a crush on you and yet you are the most oblivious person on the planet apparently.

Even when Kuzan fully flirts with you- You do not react to it. Not that he minds- He rather much enjoys your naïve and calm demeanor. It is refreshing among all these other marines who seek justice in a terrifying manner.

With permission, Kuzan goes back to the training grounds where he had earlier ruined your recruits’ concentration. The grounds are completely empty, and he waits a few minutes- Getting impatient, for you to return here with the good news of being dismissed for today.

He hears your footsteps and goes to greet you when he feels arms wrap around his mid-section. He raises an eyebrow at your unusual happy attitude. Usually, when he ruins one of your training sessions like he did today you would be grumpy but instead, you are hugging him?

Not only that but it makes his usual cold atmosphere soften. You are hugging him and… It feels nice.

Though the way you are squeezing him… He knows it is supposed to be loving but he can’t help the instant dirty thoughts and wonders of how your warmth could mix with his.

You pull back too soon, and he frowns.

“Kuzan, you need to stop ruining my training sessions. If you want to see me that is all you have to say,” You still manage to say in the gentlest voice ever despite the stern look you give him.

For once he fights off his perverse thoughts and just says in more of a demand. “Hug me again.”

You do not question him. Instead, you give him that brilliant smile before sliding your arms around him again. Yeah…

He can nap later.

Lucci Rob-

*First let me say this headcanon for Rob, he would 100% be touch-starved so in this situation, he would come to be a bit obsessed with hugs from his crush. Continuing on-

Lucci could not get any more annoyed with today. It has been exhausting and all he has been doing is paperwork from his last mission with CP9. He can’t wait until they can finally move to CP0. Then he won’t be stuck at Cipher Pol’s headquarters. He will not need to be pestered by the other member’s annoying behavior.

“Lucci-“

He nearly snaps at the voice, until he feels something wrap around him from behind. A head leans against his back and he just freezes.

“What is this- What are you doing?” He questions.

He already knows it is you- Their newest and definitely strongest (in his opinion) member. Somehow you captured Cipher Pol’s attention with your strength, but it did not match your personality. None of these missions do and he hated your guts at first- He saw you as weak and saw you merely as a distraction until he witnessed your strength when you trained with Kaku then him.

Your personality- He wanted to originally crush it. To form it into what he was raised to be- Merciless. It turned out you were also merciless but in a way that your target knows you do not want to torture them but will if you have to.

He hated that kind of person working here but, in the end- It was exactly what attracted him to you. He fought it off for so long but your everlasting kindness and the strength you showed to him eventually made him bring down his barrier. He allowed you to talk to him and he would give short curt replies in return.

That was all it was until he realized you even brought an animalistic side to him (he wants to believe that it is due to his devil-fruit and not the fact that he is still human).

So, hugging him like this and right now? It sets his skin aflame. He would want nothing more than to just devour you in acts of pure passion (and he will say hate) as he forgets about his stress but of course he can’t. Your relationship is definitely not that far along, and this is just a silly little crush he has.

“Sorry- Did I scare you? You looked upset so I thought you needed a hug. Even though our professions make us hard with our emotions- I like to think we all need hugs now and then. We are still very human despite our job. Wouldn’t you agree?” You ask… Still holding him.

He hates that he loves your touch and that- It really does seem to make this terribly long day better. He hates it but he will admit it.

“I do agree… Do you hug the others?” Lucci questions.

You finally pull back so you can look at him. That adorning smile that paints your face makes his heart ache in the best way possible. Especially when you answer. “No- You are the first one I felt comfortable doing that to. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No. I rather enjoyed it. I… Would appreciate it if you did it again in the future- However, I oppose you doing it to others,” He states.

You may have a too soft personality in his opinion, but you are not naïve. You definitely understood his possessive tones as you agree to it.

#my writing #one piece x reader #killer x reader #kuzan x reader #rob lucci x reader #one piece #fanfiction #scenario #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenarios #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #one piece killer #aokiji kuzan #rob lucci #fluff #slightly suggestive

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gay-otlc · 3 years

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Perfect (Keefitz)

Summary: And yet... he can't shake the feeling that, if he wasn't a Vacker, if he wasn't stuck in the cage of perfection... he would love to be with Keefe.

That didn't matter. Whether he likes it or not, Fitz is in his cage of perfection, so he can't want Keefe.

He can't. Because he's perfect.

(Alternatively: 4.5K words of Keefitz angst and about 100 of Keefitz fl*ff)

Trigger warnings: Internalized homophobia, cursing

Words: 4352

(Read on AO3)

Fitz Vacker is perfect.

His friends call him Wonderboy, and that's for a reason. He knows they're making fun of him when they say it, but he can't help but feel the smallest glimmer of pride when he hears the nickname. Maybe a bit more than that. Yes, people are making fun of him for being perfect. That still means they see him as being perfect.

And that's good. That's exactly how he wants it to be.

No, he corrects himself- not how he wants it to be. How it is. People don't just see him as perfect- he is perfect. (Or so he tells himself. But is he, is he really perfect? Or is he just lying, trying to convince himself. Convince everyone else.) Wonderboy is at the top of his class. He's passable at Base Quest and actually quite good at Bramble. Even though his father doesn't approve of the hobby, his talent at baking is undeniable. Every girl at Foxfire is in agreement that he's handsome, with bronze skin, teal eyes, and a smile that makes all of them swoon.

(He doesn't care how many girls like him. He's never liked any of them.)

And Sophie. He's a key member of the Black Swan, and he's Sophie's cognate. They're cognates. And everyone expects them to be a couple.

He's supposed to love her. He can't.

They would be a perfect couple, if only he could feel what he was supposed to.

He can't.

The point is, Fitz is perfect. He's sunshine, blue skies. Flawless. Golden.

Fitz Vacker is perfect. And he can't shake the feeling that perfection is a cage.

---

Keefe Sencen is anything but perfect.

It's obvious from the very moment they meet. Keefe is too loud, too energetic, too obnoxious. He barely pays any attention in his classes and lands in detention every other day. Taking anything seriously seems to be impossible for him. Even his appearance, with messed up hair and the way he "forgets" his cape, reflect on his personality.

Alden disapproves immediately. Keefe would never be a good influence for Fitz, could get him in trouble, damage his reputation. Blah, blah, blah. He does make sense, too; Fitz is a Vacker, and he's the golden boy, so he can only be surrounded by the best. Which likely doesn't include Keefe. But after one conversation with that boy, he finds himself inviting him over to Everglen after school.

After that, they're inseparable, no matter what Alden says.

And Keefe is still far from perfect. He hides everything in jokes and spends too much time obviously crushing on Sophie. (A fact that gives Fitz a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He isn't sure why; maybe it would be weird if two of his best friends started dating?) Keefe's mom is part of the Neverseen and the council banished him to Exillium and he makes reckless decisions.

Odds are, Keefe is a ticking time bomb, and Fitz needs to get away. That's what his brain tells him to do. Then, Keefe tells him Lord Cassius's theory on head and heart emotions, and something clicks. In his head, he wants Keefe gone. In his heart, he needs Keefe to stay.

Shit, he thinks.

Keefe is anything but perfect. He's a hurricane, a natural disaster. Flawed. Broken glass.

Keefe Sencen is anything but perfect. And Fitz cares about Keefe way to much to ever let it come between them. Shit.

---

Fitz nearly dies once, a time most people have forgotten about. He remembers it perfectly.

It's soon after he, Sophie, Dex, Biana, and... Keefe, though Fitz doesn't yet know why he has the ellipses, run away to join the Black Swan in Allavuterre. When they break into Exile to visit Prentice, and the Council comes to stop them. It's the most stupid way to nearly die, but a giant bug stabs Fitz. An arthopleura, eight feet tall and full of poison, stabs him.

And he nearly dies.

Even though he doesn't have a photographic memory, the time plays out perfectly in his mind- everything suddenly aches, he can barely breathe and the world swims before his eyes. His brain feels foggy, clouded by the poison. Through the fog, he can only think of one thing. A name, that he clings to like a lifeline.

And it should be Sophie's name. It should be Sophie's name. He's usually perfect enough to keep control of his thoughts, make sure he wants the right thing and doesn't spend too much time ever longing for the wrong thing.

In his poisoned state, that sort of control is gone, and all he can think of is what he actually wants.

Keefe.

The name echoes in his mind, over and over. When he feels himself only at his last point of consciousness, Keefe's name is still repeating, but he doesn't remember what it means.

Who's Keefe? he thinks.

A memory tickles at the back of his mind. Keefe... he... I... I think I'm in love with him.

He gives into the poison, consciousness gone.

---

When he wakes up, his head still feels foggy and slow. Keefe's name is still there, and it doesn't take long for the rest of Fitz's memories to come slotting into place. I think I'm in love with him.

Where the fuck had that thought come from?

Fitz isn't in love with Keefe. He can't be. He isn't. Fitz is the perfect Vacker, the golden boy. He's going to marry someone on his match list that his father approves of, and then he's going to further the Vacker family name and not dishonor generations of Vackers before him. He'll continue being perfect, something that can't happen if he loves Keefe. Because Keefe is so far from perfect, nothing like anyone those generations of Vackers want him to marry. He's chaotic and disobedient and, well, a boy.

If Fitz is to be perfect, he can't like Keefe.

And he will be perfect.

No, he is.

---

His friends come in, full of concerns and well wishes. Keefe comes in carrying Mr. Snuggles, and thought he's laughing at Fitz, all Fitz can think about is how cute his laugh is, how Keefe hasn't smiled in so long and he's so happy that Keefe is happy. Keefe lights up Fitz's world, and after a bug-induced realization, Fitz notices that Keefe is... well, really hot.

Don't think about that.

Eventually, the rest of his friends leave, and Livvy gives him various elixirs. Della and Biana stay behind, but eventually, Livvy and Della have to talk about something, and he's left alone with Biana.

Biana smirks. "Does Fitzy have a crush?"

His face burns. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Please," she scoffs. "You've been making heart eyes ever since our friends came in. Spill."

"I don't- I'm not-"

"Fitz, you're a terrible liar. Come on, just admit you like Sophie."

Sophie. Yes, he likes Sophie. Sophie is the Moonlark, the most powerful elf; just who the perfect Vacker boy should like. She's pretty, and she's a girl, and she's just as perfect as he is. They're meant to be together.

---

"Yes," he lies. "Fine. I like Sophie. I realized it after almost dying. Happy now?"

"Very."

"But don't... don't tell her." Fitz knows that Sophie has a crush on him; no matter how hard she tries to keep it a secret, it's fairly obvious. He doesn't want her thinking that he likes her, though, because then they'd have to date, and he wouldn't like her. Well, he likes her a lot, but not like that. He likes her enough to not lead her on like that.

Biana gives him a strange look. "You know she likes you, right?"

Shit. Now he has to think of a lie, and as Biana pointed out, he's not good at lying. "I'm... I don't really want a relationship right now. While we're dealing with the Neverseen and all that. I kind of just want to wait, and I'm worried Sophie will take that as I don't like her."

He feels Biana's eyes on him for a long time, but she finally nods. "Makes sense. I'm gonna go... get some sleep, Fitz."

When she leaves, he feels like he can finally exhale. He was nearly caught with a crush on Keefe Sencen, of all people. He managed to lie and divert the attention to Sophie... but that was fucking hard.

It shouldn't be hard. He should forget all about Keefe right now, before he falls in deeper, and like Sophie instead. That's what he has to do, to be perfect again.

And yet... he can't shake the feeling that, if he wasn't a Vacker, if he wasn't stuck in the cage of perfection... he would love to be with Keefe.

That didn't matter. Whether he likes it or not, Fitz is in his cage of perfection, so he can't want Keefe.

He can't. Because he's perfect.

---

As the world continues on, with a mess of Neverseen attacks and near death experiences and drama with their friends, Keefe Sencen never fucking leaves Fitz's head. His stupid smirk and stupid Hair and stupid, stupidly imperfect beauty. He's so stupidly funny and caring and brilliant, and oh, Fitz is so stupidly in love.

It's infuriating.

And yes, he's well aware it's kind of an asshole move, but ever since he recovered from the bug stabbing incident and the feelings for Keefe didn't go away, he's been avoiding him. Every second he spends with Keefe makes him fall even deeper in love. And as he falls deeper in love, he comes closer and closer to falling off his throne.

He can't risk that.

Even strained conversations are difficult. Fitz feels something he can't name, a combination of fury and frustration and love bubbling up in his chest, and he sometimes thinks he'll explode if he doesn't scream it. I'm in love with Keefe. I'm in love with Keefe.

But he can't scream it. So he'll just have to stay away.

Keefe thinks he's jealous, that he and Sophie have something going on, because he thinks Fitz likes Sophie. Fitz is jealous whenever Keefe and Sophie are together, it's true. He wishes he were jealous of Keefe. It's safer to have him believe that. Safer to stay away.

It kills him.

But he can't have both Keefe and perfection, and he's chosen perfection.

---

The perfection he wants (this isn't what he wants, he wants Keefe, he's never wanted this) comes in the form of Sophie Elizabeth Foster and a walk through Everglen. They're discussing matchmaking, dangerous territory- and then the danger becomes real, tipping Fitz into the deep end of a conversation he'd rather avoid.

Sophie starts crying. He's not an idiot; he knows why.

Because she thinks he'll never like her.

(And she's right. He can't like her. He can't like girls.)

Before he can think it through, the words are out of his mouth: "I want it to be you," he blurts. "I want it to be you. On my match list." It's not a lie. He wants her on his match list, and him to be on hers, so they can be matched, and together... and, well, married, as horrifying as that thought is. Married to Sophie. Together for eternity.

(That sounds like a nightmare. He loves her, but not like that. The mere thought of spending eternity together feels like he's already trapped. Caged within perfection.)

He wants to want Sophie like that. And that means he wants her, right?

(He wants Keefe.)

This is what he wants, he reminds himself, as he leans towards her, ready to kiss. He'd never admit it to anyone, but when they're interrupted by Silveny, he's overwhelmingly relieved.

No he isn't.

This is what he wants.

---

He's relieved again when he and Sophie break up. And terrified. She was his safety net, and now, when he falls for Keefe, nothing is going to catch him. Then, he regrets feeling any bit of relief- what kind of boyfriend does that make him?

A gay one.

That's what he is, isn't he? He's not perfect. He's gay. And he thought it would go away. It hasn't. It isn't going to. He's gay, he's gay for Keefe Sencen, and he'll never be perfect. Never be fucking perfect. Unless he pushes the feelings down until he forgets about them. Unless he never tells anyone. Unless he bites his tongue and marries a woman and does everything exactly right. Never slips up. Convinces himself, and everyone else, that he's... normal.

Not just normal.

Perfect.

Fucking perfect.

His plans to repress all Keefe-related emotions fails horribly within a few days. Keefe, the fucking idiot, manages to get himself in a coma, and now Fitz doesn't know whether he'll wake up, and dammit, even ignoring Keefe was better than this.

He just wants Keefe back, even if it'll be harder to be perfect.

---

The universe rewards him, the time he spends by Keefe's bedside whispering I'll stay away from him, I won't fall in love, I'll forget all about him, if he can stay alive works, or maybe it was just luck. Either way, Keefe is awake.

At first, he has no idea what to feel. Overwhelmingly happy, for one. It's hard to push that down.

He's your best friend. It's normal to feel happy about your best friend not dying. It's fine. This is fine. You're fine.

You're still perfect.

Then, everything spirals very quickly, and it turns out Keefe's mother- shit, Fitz hates her- has managed to ruin everything once again. Fantastic. Now Keefe is scared of himself, and if Fitz is being honest, he's a little scared... but then again, he was always scared of Keefe, wasn't he? Scared of how his laugh made Fitz feel like he'd won a million lusters and how he could be so imperfect yet so wonderful and how sometimes, Fitz thought maybe, it'd be worth it to not be perfect, as long as they could be together.

And scared of how he can't stop thinking about Keefe, so he buys flowers- fucking flowers- and goes to visit him at Elwin's house.

Elwin opens the door. He glances at Fitz, then the flowers, then Fitz again, and smiles knowingly. Fitz wants to shrink into a hole, knowing that Elwin knows- or even suspects- his secret, that he's so far from perfect. Elwin doesn't think of it as a bad thing, though. It's still terrifying. "Keefe is in his room," he says. Fitz nods, not trusting his voice, and walks up the stairs.

---

Keefe opens the door. "Elwin, I said I'd- you're not Elwin."

"Not unless something very confusing just happened, no," Fitz agrees.

"What are you doing here?"

Fitz swallows. "I came to check on you," he says. Then he holds out the flowers. "And to give you these." Keefe stares at the flowers for a long time, long enough to make Fitz extremely uneasy. Oh why did I do this, this was so stupid, Keefe thinks it's stupid, it obviously is, and now Elwin knows, or at least suspects, and maybe Keefe suspects too, and why am I such a fucking idiot? But Keefe takes the flowers eventually.

"Thanks."

The word is clipped, not particularly grateful, but Fitz lets his eyes meet Keefe's and he seems sincere. "No problem." Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm alright, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay." When Fitz nods, Keefe gives a small smile. "How about you? I heard you and Foster broke up."

Truth be told, Fitz had nearly forgotten about that, which didn't bode well for his whole Yes, I definitely like girls act he was trying to do. "I'm... I think it was the right decision for us. Can I tell you a secret?" he blurts, the last sentence not planned. He hopes Keefe will say no, but of course he says yes, so Fitz swallows. "I don't think I ever liked her, really. I mean, I like her a lot. But not like that. Never like that. I've never liked a girl like that."

Instantly, Fitz regrets specifying a girl, but that was the only way to keep it truthful. Despite that, he regrets not lying as he watches Keefe connect the dots. "You like me, don't you?" Before Fitz can say anything, really even register the question, Keefe continues "It's not bad if you do. In fact, it's good, because I... I like you. A lot. Like that. So it's okay to tell me if you like me. And I promise I won't tell anyone unless you're alright with it."

Fitz nods. Almost in a whisper, he answers "I like you. I... I really like you, so much, so much it physically aches, but Keefe, I can't. You know I can't."

A look Fitz can't quite decipher comes over Keefe, a mixture of pain and anger and joy and... determination. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispers, before cupping Fitz's face. Even before their lips touch, Fitz knows it's so unlike the times he and Sophie almost kissed. This time, it feels exactly right.

It feels perfect.

That word, that fucking word, draws Fitz back abruptly away. "I can't," he repeats, taking a step back towards the door. Twists the doorknob. "I can't. I'm sorry, Keefe, but I can't."

Keefe nods. "I know. You have to be perfect." He doesn't sound angry; just resigned.

"I have to be perfect," Fitz agrees, and he leaves.

---

Once again, the world continues on. Keefe slowly begins trusting himself around other people again. Fitz still doesn't trust himself around Keefe. If they're too close for too long, he thinks he might just disregard everything and kiss him again. He thought it was hard before, but after he knows who fucking wonderful it is to kiss Keefe, it's nearly impossible. Keefe is like a drug, and Fitz has to do everything he can not to relapse.

So he stays away.

They fight the Neverseen a few more times. Nearly die once or twice. Elwin basically adopts Keefe. He and Sophie work to rebuild their trust as cognates, but it's hard, because now he's keeping such a big secret.

I never liked you.

I don't like girls.

I'm gay.

I like Keefe.

I kissed Keefe once.

He can't tell her any of that. Can't tell anyone. Keefe is the only person who knows, and even that is far too many people. He has to trust that Keefe won't tell anyone- though Keefe doesn't have as much to lose from it, it can't be good for him either. And Sophie... she's a really good friend, but he still... he can't. He just can't.

Even as their friendship repairs itself, they never date again. He's glad.

And disappointed.

Because he really needs a safety net, now more than ever.

---

Alden convinces him to get a match list, one without Sophie on it. One with a hundred girls, each one of them someone he can never love. Maybe he'll find one he likes well enough. And he can pretend to love her until he's convinced everyone, including himself. A new safety net.

A new mask of perfection.

He throws a Winnowing Gala then, mostly for the food. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to just eat the whole time. He has to dance with people, talk to them, hope to find some sort of spark. It never comes, of course. When he first met Keefe first, he knew that boy would be bad for him, but he couldn't stay away. Every moment talking to him felt like electricity. This is just... dull.

It's nearly torture.

Also, it's what the rest of his life is going to be like.

Fitz already knew perfection was a cage. He chose the cage instead of Keefe. Now he's living with the consequences. This was his choice, and he made his choice, but it's still... so hard. It feels like he's suffocating.

---

"I need some fresh air," he chokes out to the girl he's dancing with now. He can't even remember her name. She's nice, but nothing like Keefe. All of these girls blend together, because none of them are Keefe, and he's too focused on surviving the next few hours to concentrate on any of them.

Without waiting to here her response, he stumbles outside.

"Fitz?" a voice asks. He groans. Keefe. Why did it have to be Keefe?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too. I came to pine as you chose a girl to marry, of course. Didn't expect you to come outside."

Fitz groans, burying his head in his hands. "Sorry to snap at you. I just..."

"You hate this. You hate this so much."

"How do you know?"

"Empath. Also, I know you," Keefe says. Fitz sighs. They fall silent for a long time, but finally, Keefe speaks again. "I still... I can't stop thinking about the kiss. It feels like forever ago, and I still sometimes feel your lips on mine like some sort of phantom. All I can do is think about kissing you again. I really want to kiss you again. I... I really want you." He takes a breath, then resumes, cutting off whatever Fitz was about to say. "But I know. You can't. I understand."

"I... it doesn't feel like I can. At all. But..." Fitz took a deep breath, gesturing at Everglen. "I can't do this either. I can't keep doing this, pretending to be perfect."

Keefe tilted his head to the side. "Fitz?"

"I'm done pretending," Fitz said, and he kissed Keefe once again.

Perfect.

---

When they finally separate, Keefe's ice blue eyes are wide, pupils dilated. "That was... incredible." He touches his fingers to his lips, never taking his eyes off Fitz. Fitz can't see himself, but he's sure he looks just as lovestruck. He's wanted this for years, and finally, finally...

"I want to tell people," Fitz says, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. He didn't plan to say that, but repeats it. "I want to tell people about... about us."

"You know there's no going back after that," Keefe says, the beautiful smile on his face widening anyway.

Fitz nods. "I know. I don't want to go back. I told you, I'm done pretending."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to?"

After a quick kiss that makes little fireworks go off in Fitz's head, he smiles again and says "No, I want to. Do you know what you're going to say?" Fitz shakes his head. "Just making it up as you go along. That works. Honestly, the best way to do things. Can I come in with you?" In response, Fitz takes Keefe's hand in his and squeezes it. "Great. Let's go."

With every step Fitz takes, he knows his time being perfect is running out. He's never been happier.

---

"I want to thank you all for coming tonight," Fitz says, waiting for the room to fall silent from the talking and laughing and music. While he waits, his eyes meet Keefe's. His boyfriend's. Keefe smiles, and he gives a tentative smile in return. His stomach flips with anxiety, and doubts of Do I really want to do this? start to creep back in. He briefly closes his eyes and lets the memory of the kiss wash over him, and it's the only thing to get them to go away.

Distantly, he hears a girl whisper-scream "Is he about to propose to someone?"

He clears his throat and continues. "I've really enjoyed getting to speak of all of you and get to know you. Unfortunately..." he swallows. "None of you... my perfect match. There's nothing wrong with any of you, and if I could be attracted to any of you, I would have some good options to choose from. But... I'm not attracted to girls. Any girls. At all."

Behind him, he hears his father hissing "Fitz, what are you doing?"

"Let him finish," his mom murmurs, voice low.

After letting his eyes drift back to Keefe, he takes a deep breath and blurts it out to the entire room. It's been bubbling up in him for so long, with no one knowing, and by tomorrow, everyone in the Lost Cities will know. That's terrifying. But strangely liberating. No more pretending. "I'm gay."

"Fitzroy," his father snaps, instantly. "Stop talking at once."

"No."

"Fitzroy Avery Vacker-"

"No," Fitz repeats, meeting Alden's eyes and ignoring every voice of wisdom telling him to look away. "No. I'm done pretending. And I'm done being perfect. I'm gay, and I'm in love with Keefe, and you're just going to have to fucking deal with that."

---

Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks over to Keefe, collapsing into a hug. "I'm proud of you," he hears in a whisper.

"That was terrifying," he breathes.

"I know. But it's going to be okay."

Fitz tangles his hands in Keefe's stupidly beautiful hair and meets their lips in another earth shattering kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too, Wonderboy."

Things won't ever be perfect again. Alden and Della divorce, and though neither of them says it, Fitz knows it's his fault. Keefe's father is furious, which he knows upsets Keefe even though he lives with Elwin now. Some elves are supportive, and some even come out after Fitz- including Sophie and Biana, who have apparently been dating for months- but other elves whisper about the gay Vacker boy, and how unfortunate it is for the family. The Council has been arguing for months about whether or not Fitz should be allowed to be matched with Keefe. Fighting the Neverseen is still a necessity, and they keep getting hurt.

Things won't ever be perfect again. Fitz won't be "perfect" again.

But it doesn't matter whether he's perfect. He's happy.

#simone types things #keefitz #kotlc #fitz vacker #divorce alden vacker 2021 #cursing tw #internalized homophobia tw #shai's writing

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

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a bird secondary with a *very* unhealthy badger model

i’m pretty sure i’m using both Bird and Badger secondary tools - i just cannot for the life of me figure out which one’s my actual secondary, and which is the model. it doesn’t help that both of them are at least slightly charred. when i was younger, i was surely a Bird secondary, no doubt.

One of the reasons I ask people for childhood stories is I fundamentally don’t believe that sortings ever change. (Maybe that’s the Lion in me talking.) You can build beautiful models that you adore living in, but important aspects of yourself don’t just... fall away. They change, and grow, and level up.

i’ve always loved collecting knowledge, i store trivia better than many a fandom wiki, i’ve studied things just because they interested me, i’ve once memorised a big portion of the pokedex just for fun… you get the idea.

I’m going with Bird secondary as a hypothesis, but this doesn’t necessarily say bird secondary to me. Bird of some kind, sure. But it could still be a model.

when academia kicked my butt (hello, undiagnosed adhd), and i realised my natural talents and good memory won’t help me, i think i burnt my Bird. it really hit me very hard.

That can happen. And it’s brutal. But when a secondary burns from over-use, it’s not gone it’s just... tired.

i’ve started appreciating kindness and hard work, and i wanted to be a person who - wasn’t necessarily the smartest in the room (because i felt that this ship has already sailed.)

There’s a fun word for someone who thinks they’re the smartest person in the room. And that word is “asshole.” :) Seriously, ‘being the smartest person in the room’ isn’t a real thing, and definitely not something to aspire to.

didn’t help that i’ve also acquired a nemesis who was just as smart as me, but an asshole, lmaoo.

Like I was saying...

But I thought perhaps I could be the kind one. the patient one. the steady one. of course, that didn’t work for me with my adhd at all, lol. i am physically and mentally unable to reach that ideal of stable, patient, consistent, reliable. and it hit my self esteem real hard again.

There is some sort of POWERFUL Badger secondary influence in your life, making you believe that you need to be that way too. And you don’t. That’s the entire premise of this system. That there are many ways to solve problems, all equally effective and valid.

after all, not everyone can be smart, and that’s alright - but everyone can be a hard worker, right? it’s not a matter of any innate abilities.

You think the chip that allows you to settle down and focus on doing a non-preferred task in increments over long periods of time is not an innate ability? This is why I hate standardized tests. They test your ability to take a test much more than they test the material. Not everyone *can* sit at a desk in a silent, windowless room and do math problems for four hours. And why on earth should that be that a desirable, rewarded ability? The end goal is not to graduate and start working in a factory like its 1905.

my bachelor degree’s taken me a year longer than it should have, because i’ve started just… not doing my work. didn’t come to class, didn’t hand in my homework, didn’t contact my professors. did everything at the very last minute, if at all. and i didn’t know why.

It’s because you struggle with executive dysfunction. Because you’re neurodivergent.

i’ve felt terrible about it, because i wanted to be a good student, you know? i wanted to feel like i earned that degree. i passed, because i’m bright and i can extrapolate based on the knowledge i already have, and i have a lot of knowledge in this wonky brain of mine - but it doesn’t feel like i… deserved that pass.

for instance, we had this class - literature masterpieces of XX century. we were supposed to read one book each week. obviously i didn’t manage, bc despite reading as if my life depended on it in my early years, i lost that ability sometime during my high school years (when depression hit). so the night before, i’ve sat down, read the wikipedia article on every book and every author on the list, read goodreads’ reviews, sparknotes, whatever i could find. sometimes even fragments of the original text. and i passed that (oral) exam, even with this extremely strict professor. and i felt horrible about it, because i didn’t feel i deserved to pass that. i didn’t read those books! i’ve lied to you! i’ve cheated!

Listen. I’m a teacher, and I am telling you, you deserved that degree. You got the info, you thought about it, you understood. You didn’t trick your strict professor. Your professor did a good job, and allowed you to think and learn and demonstrate your knowledge in a way that worked for you. (Which is what they’re supposed to do.) I love students with ADHD, their brains are fast and non-linear, and yes they skim the reading, but they make connections and take things to new levels and process things in such cool way, and it just makes me feel alive you know?

I actually have more trouble with the opposite type, the student who obviously did the reading, but didn’t play with it or connect it to anything else they know, so it just kind of sits in their head like a lump, not doing them any good. But they are really good test-takers.

then again - doing things the right way was (and still is) sometimes just simply unaccesible to me.

There is no right way to do things. The right way to do thing is whatever makes you happy and gets the job done. But that’s a hard one to internalize. I still have trouble truly internalizing that one. But I’m getting better.

the badger secondary, therefore, is not anything that’s actually… useful to me, most of the time, lol.

You are crushing yourself under the weight of a Badger secondary model.

unless it’s the ~vibes~ of the badger that make professors like me, most of the time - and because of that liking, they’d often turn a blind eye to just how badly i’d fuck up.

I bet your professors like you because you’re an interested, interesting student who brightens up their day. And if they’re turning a blind eye, it’s because they know that people with ADHD struggle with deadlines sometime. And that’s /fine/

i often seem trustworthy and reliable in the beginning, before my executive dysfunction trips me up, and makes me beat myself up for not actually being that.

My thoughts on secondaries and executive dysfunction.

it’s the bird that helps me still achieve anything these days - the knowledge i still have, and the things i pick up along the way, from friends or twitter or online articles. i can bullshit my way through many things, because i know quite a bit about a wide range of topics.

It is so easy to pick up on true bullshit as a teacher. We *know* when you don’t know what you’re talking about. When you put together interesting statements and arguments on the fly - when you pull something out of your ass - it’s still coming from you. That’s just an alternate way of thinking. Also, everything you have written is SO BIRD.

but actually applying myself - which i feel is both necessary to succeed

It’s not.

and the right way to do things

There’s no such thing.

- is just… out of my reach. sorry for the rant, but i’m just so super confused, lmao. if you have any thoughts on this mess, i’d be very grateful. apologies for any mistakes, too - english is not my first language.

English isn’t your first language??? Your English is amazing. You’re a bird secondary, and a pretty brilliant one by the sound of it. And you are torturing yourself because you aren’t living up to an entirely arbitrary Badger secondary ideal.

#sortinghatchats #sortme #wisteria sorts #bird secondary #burnt bird secondary #badger secondary model #executive dysfunction #adhd #teaching

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7

- Chapter 8 -

Nie Huaisang was really growing up quite well, in Meng Yao’s opinion.

He’d mostly recovered from the terrible fright of his father’s death, something Nie Mingjue was still struggling with – the blessings of youth, Meng Yao supposed – and he learned every single one of their mother’s tricks as if he were secretly a fox spirit, even if his commitment to saber training was still far from what Nie Mingjue might have hoped. Meng Yao feared what would happen when they unleashed him upon the world in all the best sort of ways.

Meng Shi was better now, too, with Sisi by her side: more human, Meng Yao thought, than she’d been in years. Cruelty had driven her to extremes, and it was easy for her to forget the good things that were so few among the bad, but Sisi had been kind to her when there’d been no reason to be, no advantage, and with her around Meng Yao’s mother regained a little of the joy she’d had when she was younger and still hopeful.

Some people still liked to laugh about her background, to talk about how she had been a prostitute (and worse, Jin Guangshan’s prostitute, one he hadn’t even bothered redeeming when it would have been as easy as flipping over his hand, and that in people’s minds made her his trash), but it didn’t seem to bother her as much anymore, even if it bothered the rest of them.

They each reacted to it in their own way: Nie Mingjue with a snarl and an open threat, Meng Yao with a gentle smile backed up with secret vengeance, and Nie Huaisang…well, Nie Huaisang tended to respond aloud.

“At least she could be bought,” he said to one especially arrogant young master, “unlike your mother, who couldn’t sell herself even if she tried – didn’t she have to pay for her husband?”

“Please stop fantasizing like that,” he told another. “It’s really disturbing to hear you lust after my mother so openly – and she so much older than you. Don’t you have any shame?”

“I never knew you were a spendthrift, daozhang,” he said to a rich old sect leader who’d crudely offered a chest of gold for a night with her. “Imagine, spending all that much money on something that you don’t even have the ability to use – what’s even the point?”

Yes, he was growing up quite well, Meng Yao thought, happy and content, and even Nie Mingjue agreed.

Nie Mingjue was growing into himself as well, still (somehow?!) growing taller as time marched on, taller and broader still until he was a bigger man than even his father had been before him. But more important than his size was how it seemed to settle him into himself, the gawky awkwardness of adolescence fading swiftly in the figure of the man he’d become – the figure of the man he was.

Meng Yao had worried, he wouldn’t lie, about how Nie Mingjue, carefree and free-spirited and easily fooled, would handle becoming sect leader, but in the end his worries were for nothing. Nie Mingjue was a good sect leader, just as he was a good man: principled and righteous, thoughtful yet resolute, and surprisingly discerning for someone who still believed Meng Yao without question even after having seen what he did to people who underestimated him.

Though perhaps that was only because it was Meng Yao, who he trusted.

Nie Mingjue was brutally fair, never valued birth over merit, and was as exacting and just as could be hoped for – though Meng Yao liked to think that he and Nie Huaisang were the one glaring blind spot in Nie Mingjue’s harsh rules of righteousness. No matter how strict he was with others, he always spoiled them.

Indeed, spoiling them could be said to be his only hobby.

His father’s murder and eventual death had crushed the more frivolous parts out of him, and the burdens of being sect leader threatened to do the rest – Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang had had to conspire, with great difficulty, to force him to take some time out of his day to continue learning how to forge spiritual weapons, or to paint something other than talisman arrays and battlefield maps, or sometimes even, rarest of all and only on special occasions, to dance in that strange, almost hypnotic way he said was his mother’s.

Nie Mingjue had that classic Nie temper, of course, and he was prone to over-hasty judgments when that temper was roused, most especially when he felt he had been betrayed, but he was also capable of controlling it despite himself, something Lao Nie had struggled with; he was more aware of the consequences of his actions.

Maybe that’s why it came as such as surprise when he nearly destroyed their alliance with the Jin sect over mere words.

It was Meng Yao’s first Discussion Conference that he attended at Nie Mingjue’s side as his advisor, and that had been the problem. Jin Guangshan could just barely resist commenting on Meng Shi when she wasn’t around; with Meng Yao put front and center before him, he hadn’t quite managed to refrain from saying something.

Meng Yao had expected that.

He’d composed himself ahead of time, recited some of the worst things he could think of that could be said; what his father came up with by comparison was positively mild, merely some comment about being surprised that the Nie sect allowed someone like Meng Yao into good company being what he was, and it rolled off his shoulders like water off a duck’s feathers. He could lower his head and let it pass, so as to avoid making himself any more of a burden for his sect than he already was.

He’d somehow forgotten to account for Nie Mingjue’s temper.

He didn’t pull out Baxia, though Meng Yao might have wished he would have – that might have been forgiven in time. Instead, reaching for his tea, he’d only said, as casual as if he were remarking on the weather, “Yes, Meng Yao’s parentage is rather unfortunate, but luckily his mother’s traits dominated.”

Jin Guangshan choked – everyone knew who Meng Yao’s father was, after all – and in that moment of silent stewing rage, Nie Mingjue added, his tone musing, “Perhaps that was why she didn’t get along with my father that well. He could never tolerate being stepped on by anyone.”

Some unfortunate in one of the smaller sects sniggered, perhaps thinking of how clearly Nie Huaisang’s features echoed his brother’s even if they were writ on a smaller and more graceful frame, while Meng Yao’s face could only be considered in very broad strokes to be his father’s, and while they were silenced when Jin Guangshan turned to glare, the damage was done.

(Nie Huaisang had been there, sitting around and looking bored; afterwards, he’d made excuses to leave, and Meng Yao would bet serious money that half the rumors that sprung up afterwards about Jin Guangshan being unable to get it up unless he was being humiliated in bed were from his somehow impossibly dirty-minded little brother. Where he’d even gotten the idea about the one with the shoes, Meng Yao couldn’t even begin to guess…he grew up in a brothel, damnit; a spoiled young master should not have the ability to make him blush for shame!)

“You didn’t have to do that,” Meng Yao scolded him lightly, later. “You know I prefer to be underestimated.”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “I don’t interfere with your business,” he said, and most of the time he didn’t. “Father always said that if people talk about you, it’s your job to do so well that they have nothing to say, and I suppose that must be true –”

It wasn’t, but it was nice enough that Nie Mingjue really thought so that Meng Yao wasn’t going to spoil it for him.

“– but anyway you can’t expect me to leave off when he says something that can be construed as an insult to Huaisang.”

Meng Yao blinked. “To Huaisang? He was talking about me.”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “Meng Yao, you’re brilliant, competent and capable; you would be a shining star in any sect you chose to join. You’re so surpassingly talented that the only negative thing people can think to say about you is that you’re the son of a whore – and what does that make Huaisang?”

A recognized son of a sect leader who wanted him, Meng Yao thought, but oh, Nie Mingjue did make it hard to remain bitter. If they’d met too late, as adults, the Nie Mingjue who only survived his father’s death by shutting down so much of himself would never have presumed to say such things to him – he probably would have thought it, but he would have kept it locked inside, oyster-tight, the way he did most things these days – but Meng Yao had gotten to him early enough that there wasn’t any point in trying to keep things back; they’d long ago passed the point of etiquette.

“I appreciate your defense nonetheless,” Meng Yao said with a faint smile. “And the compliments as well – I always like to be complimented.”

“Forget compliments,” Nie Mingjue said. “Wait for the poaching.”

Meng Yao laughed, but in the end he was the one surprised: a number of sect leaders threw out hooks in his direction, incorrectly thinking that Nie Mingjue’s statement had put Meng Yao down, and most surprising of all was the pointedly casual conversation that a pair of Jin sect retainers had within hearing distance of him, clearly meant to be overheard, that suggested that an application to switch sects might not be met with such a cold reception as he would have otherwise have thought.

How he would be treated once in the sect would be a different matter, of course, but no matter how bad an idea it probably was, Meng Yao couldn’t quite help daydreaming about how it might go.

He’d never be the Jin sect heir, of course – though if he was legitimized, he supposed there was only Jin Zixuan and maybe Jin Zixun between him and the position. Even without that, though, he could shine bright enough to catch everyone’s eye, the way Nie Mingjue had said he could; he could show them all how good he was. He could make Jin Guangshan regret not having taken his mother out of that brothel, not having brought her home as a concubine, not having raised him as his own –

He could have all of Lanling Jin at his fingertips.

Then they got word that Meng Shi had fallen ill, a letter passed in by messenger, and Nie Mingjue immediately started wrapping up his business, giving orders that they would leave by sundown without even considering that finishing up the odds and ends of sect business might be more important than going to sit by the bedside of his father’s concubine, a former prostitute, a woman he had little enough reason to honor.

Meng Yao remembered that all the gold in Lanling was only a façade over their rotten hearts, and that the approval of his father was nothing to him over the well-being of his mother.

(He might have been more insistent if she had died in that brothel, he thought. It was not so hard to become fixated on power and glory when you had none, to feel it was something owed to you, to her, and to see it as a need when it was only a want – but she hadn’t, and he didn’t, and Jin Guangshan with all his riches had done less for them when they needed him than Nie Mingjue had when all he’d had was the trinkets on his body and a fierce determination that his younger brother should be born at home.)

Of course, there was one offer he couldn’t turn down.

Wen Ruohan made an effort to be subtle about it, Meng Yao would give him that much – one couldn’t deny the man was smart, smart and powerful and very good at getting even more powerful, with his only stumbling block being the fact that he was also conceited and thought that no one was as smart as he was.

A meeting was orchestrated to appear as though an accident, a few words exchanged –

Meng Yao smiled at him, letting his eyes show the warmth of future revenge, and Wen Ruohan left, satisfied that Meng Yao secretly wanted dominion but felt it was impossible with how he was situated: neither a true son of Qinghe nor a recognized son of Lanling. A perfect tool, easily understood, and with a convenient lure that was perfectly in line with Wen Ruohan’s own plans for conquering…

Everything was so going well.

Clearly disaster was about to strike, Meng Yao thought gloomily, and braced himself.

And yet, somehow – it didn’t.

Nothing happened except more of the same: Nie Mingjue’s reputation growing in leaps and bounds, winning him the title of Chifeng-zun, and Meng Yao was the shining star by his side, reputed to be clever and talented and behind many of the Nie sect’s political coups. The Wen sect made only small moves, their arrogance growing but only slowly, and despite the anticipation of war in the future, in that blissful window of peace, they were able to watch Nie Huaisang grow up.

Maybe, Meng Yao thought, looking at Nie Huaisang lazing around in the shade shouting encouragement at the men training rather than joining in himself, maybe the world didn’t need two monsters like him.

Maybe he could do it all himself.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #three gates

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ohmypreciousgirl · 3 years

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Xicheng AU Rec List

This time I compiled my favorite AU fics for @waterandsilver! Hope everyone will enjoy this list too ♥

Just Two Lost Souls 46,978

Even if it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, husband, or companion, all Jiang Cheng really wants is to run his company, take care of his pets, and maybe get some sleep. Unfortunately the new job promotion to CEO comes with a loaded social calendar and a need for some sort of companion.

So clearly the most sensible answer is to start dating the man he's had a crush on since he was a teenager.

Because nothing could go wrong there. Sequels: Hold Me Like You Want Me; I Am Yours, If You Are Mine; Jiang Cheng and the Lans; You Get a Torch and a Flame and Burn The Path You Want.

i don't really care how much silence kills me 15,611 [Part 1 of all the lights couldn't put out the dark] It’s been around 2 years since Jiang Cheng has last seen to his brother, and a little over a year since the last time he spoke to him, when they locked eyes at Nie Huaisang’s art exhibition. Jiang Cheng had only come because Huaisang had explicitly promised him he wouldn’t be here. He knows Wuxian and Wangji have just moved back into the area after traveling, and he has every intention of avoiding them at all costs, just like he avoids his college-era crush Lan Xichen.

But it would seem that the universe has other ideas.

charcoal on newsprint 2,151 [Part 1 of fine art] Xichen distantly realizes that there is no way Huaisang had actually told Jiang Cheng that this is a nude modeling session. He can already hear Jiang Cheng’s clear baritone, dripping with sarcasm, telling the entire dinner table “So, Zewu Jun wanted me naked in front of all his students.” at the next Lan-Jiang family dinner.Uncle is going to have his head.

Madam Yu is going to skewer him alive before that. Or, Jiang Cheng models for life drawing in his spare time.

Family 2,514 [Part 1 of The Lan-Jiang Family] Jiang Cheng stops dead in the doorway as he takes in the horrendous state the apartment is in; toys and clothes everywhere, new furniture, child-furniture, all over the place, and no matter where Jiang Cheng’s gaze drops, it’s been taking over by stuff that belongs to a child.

A child that is still screaming, almost drowning out Lan Xichen’s attempts to calm it down.

“What the actual fuck is happening here?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and while it does nothing to stop the child from screaming, Lan Xichen freezes.

Worthy of a god 1,859 [Part 1 of The most faithful] Jiang Cheng knows that there is a chance Chifeng-zun will choose him; he is the god of war and rage and ever since Jiang Cheng was old enough to scowl there had been talk at Lotus Pier, how well he would fit with that.

But Jiang Cheng also knows that there is a bigger chance of no god choosing him at all.

Not just a vacation [Part 1 of The best catch] The next night Lan Xichen goes back to the beach. He keeps out of sight at first, hoping to catch the man unawares first, his mind still reeling from the research he did during the day.

It’s probably not what Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji wanted for him when they sent him on this vacation, but Lan Xichen needs to know what’s going on here. The only thing his research turned up were tales of mermaid and Lan Xichen is not ready to believe that.

Until he catches sight of a rather huge tail, flapping out of the water.

What Happens in Vegas Comes Home to Taiwan 3,120 [Part 1 of What Happens in Vegas] What do you do when your brother is getting married to someone you can’t stand?

The answer probably shouldn’t be to marry his brother, but in Lan Xichen’s defense, he didn’t know Las Vegas would allow drunk people to tie the knot at three o’clock in the damn morning.

A Lionheart 19,916 Wherein Xichen is a Crown Prince and Jiang Cheng is his bodyguard.

Emergency Help Wanted 76,819 EMERGENCY HELP WANTED I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

how to not fall in love in a broken elevator 2,741 [Part 1 of a guide to falling in love (for runaways and heirs)] Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen get stuck in an elevator together.

Stream 4,494 He’s in love with Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng blinks once, twice and allows the feeling to fill him completely, at least once, before he ruthlessly squashes it down and locks it into the deepest parts of himself.

By the time Lan Xichen stops laughing and turns his attention back to Jiang Cheng, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Sequel: Umbrella - Savor

Jiang Cheng knows what he’s worth, after all, and it’s definitely not enough for the First Jade of Gusu.

How to get revenge on your brothers: A Guide by Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen 8,339 “That’s it. That’s the solution.”

Jiang Cheng opened an eye confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a weird light in Lan Xichen’s eyes and for a moment Jiang Cheng thought the other had gone crazy. “We will make them understand what it feels like seeing their brothers being… intimate with each other.”

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities 80,575 Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

do you eat pringles with or without the shell? 32,291 Wei Wuxian smiles at him, the bastard. “I’m proud of you for figuring this out. That means Xichen-ge is your gay awakening.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Jiang Cheng sighs but he isn’t wrong.

All This Could Be Yours 17,337 After transferring to the main branch of his family’s publishing business and into his newly-acquired responsibilities as its CEO and managing director, Lan Huan finds himself stressed and burnt out. His brother recommends a solution.

Jiang Cheng is too gay to deal with this shit.

how should i know what tomorrow will bring 1,630 “If they can’t accept the fact that Jin Ling will always be there, then they might as well fuck off.” Jiang Cheng points out.

“Well, sure.” Wei Wuxian concedes. “But you don’t even give them time to know if they want to be involved with you before you’re kicking them away. That’s not how first dates are supposed to go.”

“How would you know,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, annoyed that Wei Wuxian is right. This time. “You haven’t been on a date since like, 2002.”

Children's Secrets 5,225 Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen swap nephews for a weekend. Some revelations are made.

the Magical-Realism of Awkwardness 10,168 Jiang Cheng thinks things can't get worse when he is forced to third wheel Wei Wuxian and Lanzhan's date.

Then Lan Xichen shows up and proves that things damn well can.

(Or, what shapes up to be one of the worst days of Jiang Cheng's life takes an entirely different turn.)

in the incense is tangled a cool moon 3,614 Some loves aren't meant to be, Wanyin knows.

Pay me in love 2,770 Madame Yu watches Lan Xichen walk away, until he is out of earshot, before she turns towards Jiang Cheng.

“What are you paying him?” she wants to know and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare dumbly at her.

“What?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything else.

“Did you really think I would believe you’re dating Lan Xichen, CEO of Lan Enterprises? Nice try, Jiang Cheng. Now tell me what you’re paying him.”

a slight tilt of perception 5,238 It was just a dance.

Jiang Cheng, trying to avoid the society matrons and their matchmaking-themed whispers, accepted a dance invitation from Lan Xichen, an old friend.

He forgot that his dance partner was probably the most eligible bachelor in the room.

He forgot that was all it could take: a moment, a look, hands intertwined in a dance—and everything could change.

Not at all fake 3,070 “Tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng gives back and then makes a noise as if he’s dying. “Fucking hell, I’m a dead man. If I show up tomorrow without anyone in tow—without someone in tow who can give Lan Wangji a run for his money—then I am dead.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Lan Xichen says “Take me.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, processing the words, but even after a full minute they don’t make any sense.

For better, for worse 6,713 People forget marriage vows are more than pretty words. It's easy to honor them when it comes to good things but they're easily forgotten when it comes to darker times. Lan Huan, however, always keeps them in mind. To love someone like Jiang Cheng, who wears his emotions on his sleeve due his terrible parents, is to remember that love is not simple.

Glow 3,033 [Part 1 of Eldritch!Lans AU] Jiang Cheng carefully turns his head, maybe the absence of his boyfriend is what woke him up, but when he looks at Lan Xichen’s side, he’s met with something so dark it even stands out against the darkness of the night.

There’s a void next to him in bed and Jiang Cheng throws himself out of it, Zidian already crackling and sparking, illuminating the room in a faint purple.

White Lotus in Bloom 7,147 As the Crown Prince from Gusu Lan visiting YunMeng Jiang, Lan Huan was beyond excited to attend the region's famous Lotus Festival, where he meets a boy in purple and black.

Never Had I Ever 56,263 Nie Mingjue is almost certain that Jin Guangyao has an ulterior motive for dating his best friend, Lan Xichen. However despite voicing his concerns, his best friend seems unconvinced and Lan Xichen continues to date the said man. Unable to give up just yet, Nie Mingjue tries a different tactic--convincing his best friend the man is not the right person for him by setting him up. Fortunately for him, Wei Wuxian's youngest brother is very much single and seems to be just the kind of person his best friend needs. Can Jiang Cheng truly change Lan Xichen's mind, or will Nie Mingjue's plan is a disaster from the beginning?

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Comfort 1,838 Wei Wuxian always pisses him off, this is common between them. Some fights, however, make Jiang Cheng sad enough to lock himself away from people and Lan Xichen has taken on the role of always being there to comfort him.

midnight comforts 1,946 At 11:36 his phone buzzed next to his ear. Lan Huan had a strict sleeping routine, but even so he was a fairly light sleeper. He answered the call—no one he knew would call him this late without reason—and murmured a groggy greeting.

“Lan Huan?”

He sat up, already rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“A-Cheng?”

“I know it’s late,” he started, voice sounding odd through the phone, “but you,” he stopped again with a gasp. Now that he was more alert, Lan Huan realized with mounting horror that the hitch in his breath, the odd thickness, was from crying. “You said I could come over whenever,” he finished, voice much shakier.

To The Beat 1,859 [Part 1 of Fever]

"The bathroom is over there you fuc--"

His words caught in his throat as he saw the person on the other side. He looked a lot like Wei Ying's boyfriend, but he was smiling and his eyes were somehow kind; comparatively, the most expression he'd ever seen on Lan Zhan's face was mild disdain.

Jiang Cheng must have been staring dumbly for a while because the man cleared his throat. There was a blush rising on his cheeks, and oh fuck, that was kind of cute.

"I apologize for interrupting your night. I was told that this room was where the people who were 'no fun' were supposed to go," the man said. His voice was deep and somehow just as smooth as his skin, which was flawless.

It Took Me So Long To Find You 6,349 [Soulmate AU]

But it didn’t take him too long to realize that he was simply not worthy of the other.

So he hoped at least that they could become friends.

Lotus Pier burned down before Jiang Cheng could think of telling Lan XiChen. And after the Sunshot Campaign, he understood, being Lan XiChen’s soulmate would not just be a burden to the other, it would be a curse.

paint my skies with your skin 15,473 [Soulmate AU] “There’s no point in this, is there?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, “We both know I am not who you want your soulmate to be.”

“Soulmate or not, you have my heart and my ribbon. Only if you want it, Wanyin.”

once upon a dream 18,438 [Part 1 of once upon a dream] An au where your dreams are small snippets of your soulmate’s day. They’d show small things like buying coffee, reading a book, or hanging out with people from their perspective.

The problem was that people always have expectations and Jiang Cheng knows he always falls short of them. Time and time again.

#xicheng #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mdzs #the untamed #rec time

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catnippackets · 4 years

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have you seen/would u recommend pacific rim 2? ive heard some things about newt and idk lol

I feel like Im in the minority that actually did think pru was fun but that being said it ended SO abruptly and with like three separate plotlines completely abandoned that I was really frustrated for days after watching it until I had processed everything and had time to think deeply about it lol it just seemed rly unfinished?? it feels like it was deliberately made as 1/2 of two sequels and there needs to be one more to tie everything up. actually I’m gonna ramble abt this bc I have a lot of thoughts (obvs spoilers under the cut)

the thing about the second one was that I genuinely was enjoying it right up until it ended because I swear to god the moment the end screen went up I yelled "what the fuck, that's it?" out loud into my bedroom bc I was so SHOCKED that THAT'S how it all ended, because it just seemed so incomplete?? Like it seemed like one half of a story, that will only be made whole if there's a third one to tie up all the plotlines that they didn't go through with in the second and if that's the case then I will be completely fine with it but if it doesn't or if they dont have a third one at all I will stay so frustrated lol. one silver lining to this is that the vibe of this movie was so different from the first that it almost feels easy to separate it and just imagine it as an AU if you prefer which is sort of nice; usually if a piece of media I like does something bad I feel all gutted and anxious and terrible that this is the canon I have to accept, but something abt this movie just made it feel like it was sort of a totally separate deal. maybe cuz only 3 of the original characters were in it idk

to start off: I felt like there were a couple of plotlines in it that were just sort of introduced and then never seen through which was very ????? Amara & Vik's weird hate-rivalry thing was one of them; Vik instantly has it out for Amara bc she’s jealous, which is a very interesting concept, and then this prompts Amara to become hostile right back at her, which is also a very interesting concept, and then it never got resolved at all? like they couldve done something really cool with those two but it just never went anywhere. and then there was sort of a weird love triangle thing happening between Jake and Nate and Jules that felt so weird bc it had no significance to the plot at all and it felt like it was only thrown in there for the sake of having ~romantic drama~ idk maybe I wasnt paying too much attention and there was more to it than that but it really just seemed like they wanted to put romance in there and didnt want to bother to put any work into it

BUT the thing about romantic sub plots is that THERE ALREADY WAAAAS OOOOOOOOONE which brings me to the biggest frustration I have w this movie because--and DISCLAIMER, this was also my favourite plot point of the movie bc it was by far the most interesting, the biggest reason for me enjoying the movie at all, and the bit I feel like should have had WAY more attention--Newt and Hermann were like legitimately in love in this movie I swear to god I was watching it and thinking “this is GENUINELY the most blatantly gay thing I’ve ever seen in a feature film and I know that straight ppl are very talented at writing gay romances completely by accident so it’s possible that they just accidentally did it this way but also it is REALLY goddamn obvious oh my gooood?” (and then I did a lot of frantic googling and found out that I was right and Charlie Day & Burn Gorman knew what the fuck they were doing and I felt so validated lol), and yet despite this, the movie had them speak for the last time almost at the halfway point of the film and then spend the entire second half apart and not talking at all and even at the post-credits scene where Jake and Newt talked for a bit Hermann wasn't there?? not even behind Jake to give Newt any searching glances?? Nothing??

dude...Newt being possessed by the precursors is a HUGELY interesting concept that actually makes sense and I wish it had had more attention. I’ve seen a lot of ppl say that pru butchered Newt’s character and I don’t 100% agree bc like...being possessed will change you lmao so while yes I’m obviously sad that he wasn’t himself, I feel like it made sense that he had a slight personality change, because it...wasn’t him anymore. we don’t really see the Newt we all fell in love with in the first movie. we THINK we’re seeing him, but halfway through we find out we’re wrong.

my critiques with that plotline are basically that I wish the reveal had happened a little bit later on, and I wish that it had been a little more obvious I guess?? like, we definitely get hints of it (when Hermann excitedly asks Newt to help him with a dangerous unorthodox project and Newt says “dude why are you doing something so risky when we’ve already got a good plan in motion? just wait for that to be done, it’s fine” and Hermann IS us, he IS the audience when he reacts, because this is a completely insane thing for Newt to say. Newt, who, in the first movie, was so obsessed with finding knowledge that he went behind the marshall’s back to literally risk his life doing something incredibly dangerous just to see what would happen? being given the opportunity to do the same kind of dangerous frivolous act and refusing? this is blatantly out of character, and Hermann is all of us when he’s shocked, “what, you mean you...won’t help me??” which means it wasn’t bad writing on their part, it was purposefully supposed to stand out as something that was wrong and something that we needed to pay attention to. that was a really good scene to hint that something was Not Right with Newt), and I wish there had been a bunch more like it. I think the reveal should have been saved for the end of the second act; I think that should have been the moment that act 2 of a story usually has, that dreadful event that happens that leaves the main characters feeling completely hopeless and unsure what to do.

I also wish that he had managed to break through more than That One Scene, I think it would’ve been more dramatic if he’d had a few moments where he managed to take control for a second to remind us that he’s still in there and still fighting, and I’m sad they didn’t do that. I saw a fan comic that touched on this idea and I think it’s brilliant, even the idea of him suddenly getting a nosebleed and acting distracted to show that that’s the Real Him trying to fight through would have been sooooooooo good.

I also feel like it didn’t make any sense for Nate to be the one to subdue him in the end, I dont even think those two interact at all so like, why was it him?? it would have been so much more dramatic and heartbreaking if Hermann had been the one to confront him so they could’ve had a little conversation on the roof where Newt could once again break through for a second before getting taken over and then Hermann could like idk have a taser hidden behind him that he uses to subdue him and THAT wouldve been a way sadder and more interesting way to do it. I also think Hermann shouldve been the one to speak to him in the post credits scene, or to have him in the background behind Jake just watching him sadly so we can get a couple shots of intense eye contact like UGH I just wish there had been more interaction between the two of them after the reveal happened!! When the movie was over and I realized they never spoke again I felt so upset!!! they're soulmates!! they're literally in love!! this has been CONFIRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and segueing in from the soulmate thing, another thing that made me sad was that nobody came in pairs anymore :( aside from Newt and Hermann, they were the only ones gjdfk but in the first one every character had another character that they were paired up with, both for drifting reasons and just for plot reasons (except Chau and Tendo but I’m pretty sure there's actually significance to that too), and in the second one it just sort of felt like everyone was drifting with each other with no strong connection needed and that made it feel way less special. granted, the movie takes place ten years after the first one so in that time maybe technology advanced to the point where you didn't need a strong neural connection to drift anymore, but for the sake of the story it would have been way better if they'd kept the whole soulmates concept from the first one, it made it way stronger and more special

so yeah in conclusion I did think pru was enjoyable and I probably would watch it again some time but also it definitely pales in comparison to the first one and I’m desperately hoping we get one more so they can tie everything together and FIX THINGS KFGH it’s not too late!!!!! I wish I could write Pacific Rim 3 I genuinely think I would do a good job I love storytelling and I’m very passionate about these characters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#ramblings #Anonymous #ask #this is really long but please interact I've been dying to talk about this for weeks now

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radamazard · 3 years

Text

From Me to We

This is my piece for the DJWifiZine! Everyone who contributed to it is honestly awesome and so talented, so you should go check it out at @thedjwifizine

You can download it here!

----------------------------------------------------------------

The lights flickered in time with a tired sigh, throwing darkness over pages that had already left Nino feeling increasingly frustrated. What was it about old timey books that made them so… so obtuse!

Had it's previous owners meant to mock him? If so then he guessed they ought to congratulate themselves. Never before had anything left him feeling so completely and utterly defeated.

With that thought and a heavy groan, Nino let the tome hit the cushion beside him.

“Waaaaayzz,” he whined, earning a dry look from the kwami. “How the sweet heck am I meant to read this crap? No offence. I know this is, like, your idea of fun and all, buuuut…”

“None taken,” Wayzz replied, drifting down to sit upon his holder’s shoulder. “I understand that it is a rather…” he paused, seemingly taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “...dull and dense text. But you were chosen to inherit this role, and with it comes certain responsibilities. Such as-”

“Readin’ old books drier than the Sahara Desert?” Nino scoffed, leaning back into the worn comfort of his couch.

“At least you’re allowed to read them!”

Ah, he was wondering when she was going to join the conversation.

Across the room from him, grumbling to herself from her squeaky desk chair, sat Alya. Her legs were crossed and her form hunched, a sure sign that she wasn't quite over being scolded by the tiny god of protection earlier this evening.

“Aww, come on, babe.” Nino attempted to assure her. “I promise, you're not missin’ out on anything exciting here!”

Well, not anything that he himself would find exciting. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure why he'd had the title of guardian thrust upon him. Hero stuff wasn't really something he was passionate about. It was just something he did outta a sense of duty.

Alya though? Now SHE was someone who woulda been squealing at the opportunity. She dug this kinda shit.

Thick, boring books full of lore and secrets that had to be decoded and unravelled?

The responsibility of deciding who was worthy of the same power they wielded, and who could never be allowed even near a miraculous?

The weight that such a position held, and the changes it would bring with it?

That was right up her alley!

It was the ultimate hero's life, all stress and life altering decisions and sooo much information that it made his brain wanna shrivel up and roll right outta his head. This was her dream, not his.

Yet here they sat, neither of them pleased with the cards they'd been dealt.

Man, was life ever a bitch.

“.... Okay, so maybe it'd be exciting to you,” Nino conceded as his girlfriend threw him an irritated glare, one that only softened as she took note of how exhausted he seemed.

Alya pulled herself away from her desk, crossing the room in a few quick steps before she dropped herself next to her beloved with a graceless thump.

“I know you're not trying to make me feel like shit, boo,” she assured him, although with how he slouched into her side Alya was getting the feeling that, perhaps, he felt he had failed in that. “It's just…”

A strong arm wrapped itself around Nino’s shoulder, and with one smooth motion he was pulled into the warmth of Alya’s embrace. It was a comfort, a silent reassurance that no ill feelings were shared between them. That even if the situation was less than ideal, they refused to let it sour their bond.

“Sucks major ass?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Neens~”

Alya felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips, one that was awfully contagious as she caught sight of the same beauty blossoming upon her boyfriend's gorgeous face.

“You know I'd give ya the damn title if I could, right?” Nino said with a slight shrug. “I wasn't really gunning for something like this. Or even remotely wanting it.”

“Maybe that's why the old fart gave it to ya,” Trixx chimed in, his sudden presence making the couple jolt comically. Alya threw a pointed look at her kwami, one that went entirely ignored by the mini master of mischief.

“Just saying! I mean, isn't that what boring old humans do? Give power to those that don't want it?”

“As much as I disagree with his choice of words and blatant disrespect for my former master,” Wayzz retorted with an air of annoyance. “Trixx does have a fair point. I do believe that Mas- that Fu’s choice, or at least part of it, was based on a lack of desire. One that does not desire power is far less likely to abuse it.”

Wayzz’s own lack of tactfulness earned him a nasty look, from both his chosen and his fiery partner. Unlike Trixx though, he at least had the decency to appear guilty, knowing that he lacked a certain level of social savvy. The fox instead had whizzed off to find a new place to nap. How typical of him.

“I did not mean anything offensive by it,” the kwami quickly added. “I do not believe that Miss Alya would ever abuse such power! You have proven to be a hero of great honour and responsibility, and I would never wish to besmirch your name with such dirty implications…”

“I'd hope not, little dude,” Nino said firmly, the sternness in his gaze starting to melt as Alya relaxed beside him, along with her grip that held his lanky frame. “I love ya, but Als is my frickin’ Queen. I ain't about to let anyone talk smack about her, not even you.”

“I would never. In fact, if it would assure your fears, I will let it be known that Miss Alya was Fu’s second pick.”

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the slight cry of shock that fell from Alya's slackened jaw.

“You… You can't be serious! Was I- I could of- What?!”

“Oh, but I am. You possess a brilliant mind, and a passion for knowledge and the history of us kwamis that is both pure and unrivalled by anyone alive today. To be completely honest, the perfect guardian lies somewhere between you both. It made the decision terribly hard…”

As he trailed off the silence returned. Unlike last time though, it stretched out, filling several long lasting minutes.

Nino felt Alya’s cheek come to rest upon his head, and even from where he rested, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, he could hear her heart race. Was it excitement, the idea that she was thought of so highly by someone she deeply respected? He hoped so. She deserved at least that.

No, she deserved so much more.

“You right there, Als?” Nino whispered against her skin, laying a gentle kiss to her thrumming pulse. To his delight he felt her shiver beneath his lips, egging him on to smother her in a flurry of feather light affections.

“I will be once you stop being such a damn lovable DORK,” Alya shot back, her cheeks ablaze. It wasn't often that Nino managed to catch her off guard as such, not that she was complaining of course. She loved him dearly, with his sweet tenderness and near endless patience for her more… wild ways.

But right now was meant to be serious talk time!

“Well excuuuuuse me, Princess!”

Oh, how her eyes rolled.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You know, the one where I was ALMOST THE GUARDIAN? I seriously can't believe that I was this close to being allowed to read the same book that you wanna throw in a fire!” Up went her hands, and with them Wayzz, who hopped out of the way of any further hand shenanigans and took refuge on the arm of their couch.

“Like, come on universe! I'm sorry that we can't just fuse or mind meld or be co-guardians or something equally as ridiculous!”

“Man, that last one woulda been hella sweet. Could you imagine? This shit would be so much easier if we could tackle it together. That damn book would be halfway understood by the end of the year if you were actually allowed to read it!”

Together they sighed, almost dreamily, as though the idea was but a wish, one fit only for fairytales. Or perhaps a low budget rom com, like the ones they enjoyed playfully mocking every Friday evening. Ah, for their lives to be so stupidly simple.

“Don't even say it, babe. Don't give me dreams that can't be fulfil-”

“Co… Guardians?” Wayzz interjected, drawing their gazes to his suddenly pondering form. “I hadn't thought of that option. Neither of us had. It certainly isn't traditional, but Ma- but Fu has never been one to follow tradition. Does that truly matter now in the scheme of things?”

His tiny brow creased in deep thought, so much so that they feared he may give himself a headache. Then, without warning, the kwami was zipping across the room, coming to rest upon the coffee table where Nino’s phone lay.

“What are yo-”

“I am contacting Fu. This new guardianship is only days old, you see. We should still be able to make amendments. With this new idea presented I believe we may be able to reach a more agreeable situation for all.”

“You… You mean…”

“Yes, Miss Alya. Now please, a moment of silence.”

The couple shared a look of bewilderment, one that swiftly morphed into giddy delight as the meaning of Wayzz's words and the hushed conversation he was having, started to settle in.

“You don't think…?” She started.

“Heck yeah I think!”

“I wasn't even being- well okay, I HAD thought of it before, but I didn't seriously think that it could happen! But now it’s- Neens, I might-!”

Excited giggles burst forth between them, both barely able to contain the jittering joy that flourished between them. What once had seemed like a sore point now pulsed with a new life, promising a future that held them together closer than ever before.

Strange, how quickly one’s night could turn from a grouchy sort of sour to a sweet, bubbly delight.

Together they tittered, their conversation an excited mess of hardly hushed whispers and tightly gripped hands. The energy was punctured by a familiar, yet sharp throat clearing, which snapped their attention back to the awaiting kwami.

“Although our conversation was brief, and we will meet at a later date to discuss the details, we are both in agreement. A Co-Guardianship is something we are willing to trial. If you will both agree to this arrangement, that is.”

Wayzz watched with a delighted chuckle, already braced for the squeals and hollering of joy that were soon to follow. Ah, to be young and so wonderfully human, to find such happiness in something shared.

“Are you kidding, little dude? Of freaking course I agree to this shit! Als, did ya hear what he sa-”

“SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!” Alya shouted in pure, unfiltered glee. Within seconds she was reaching across her boyfriend, grabbing the tome that had been the source of so many nasty feelings not even half an hour ago.

Nino’s easy laugh filled her ears, and soon it vibrated against her lips, gobbled up by a kiss of pure, vibrant glee that left them both more than a little love drunk.

“I swear, I- no, WE won't let you down!”

We.

Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

We, as in friends.

We, as in lovers.

We, as in heroic partners.

We, the Co-Guardians of the Miraculous, together until death do us part.

#the djwifi zine #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #DJWifi #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #wayzz

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lucas-lowe · 3 years

Photo

TASK 2: IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

July 2010.

Luke idly glared at the retreating dark of the dawn. His stomach let out a pathetic growl, or more accurately, a dying squeak. There comes a point in starvation where you can’t even sleep because of the hunger, and Luke was far too familiar with that pang.

The earth beneath his back was stiff and cold like a cadaver, and he could not think of a reason to get up. His head knew he should go look for food, something to eat-- like one of those small rat like creatures he saw in the woods, a fish swimming in the stream, the berries he ate a few days ago that made him threw up all night. Anything. If he couldn’t find anything to eat, he at least needed to get water. But no, his body didn’t want to move.

Luke coughed off a weak laughter, wheezing at this madness. He was stranded in some kind of an island, like that guy Crusoe in the book, with a group of lunatics who were probably in some cult-- something about elements and the First and not aging. As soon as his ankle healed, he slipped out of the camp and made his way to the west edge of the land.

The trouble was, Luke didn’t know a thing about surviving in the nature. He was a city boy through and through. Even when he was without a home, he could have dumpster-dived and scavenged for food in the city. No such option on this godforsaken island. He didn’t know how to hunt or fish, didn’t know what berries are edible or not. He couldn’t even start fire for fuck’s sake.

Perhaps he should have stayed with the cultists, learn a thing or two about the island living. But no, his tendency to isolate himself got to him again, and he would probably die out here.

December 1997.

The night descended on the open road, breathing down the chilled air on his neck. The cold crept up to his blistered feet, seeped into his shivering bones, and he feared that he was marked for life. The ghost of a white breath danced before his eyes before vanishing without a trace. A raggedy backpack, a half-empty water bottle and a few pieces of clothing were all he had.

Empty-handed and alone, yet he had persisted for almost a year on his own. But for how long? He ran out of his saving months ago. He doubted that his family was looking for him-- if they ever bothered to, that is-- but he couldn’t be too careful with the Lopes. He couldn’t live on the streets forever, either. That’s why he was bound westward, to find a better life for himself. Start anew.

No car had passed by for hours, so he had given up any hope of hitchhiking to the closest town, and had started walking. He was under no illusion that he would get anywhere like this. It was just that he had nothing but his own two legs, and walking was all he could do.

He stopped to catch his breath as his bad leg started to ache. “What the fuck...” he said out loud just to remember his own voice. What the fuck am I doing? Since he couldn’t afford a bus ticket, he reasoned his options were either hitchhiking or walking. But this was his only pair of shoes and it had already started to show wear and tear. He didn’t even own a map so he just had a vague idea that he was heading west. He was, absolutely and completely, un-fucking-prepared for this journey.

A shaky sigh escaped from his cold, empty stomach as he dropped his backpack and flopped down next to the empty road. Up above his head was the cruelly brilliant sky full of stars, and the vast wilderness stretched as far as he could see, but his eyes lingered on the cracks of the asphalt. He knew there was nothing for him out there-- no star watched over him, no light guided his path, and no one was coming to save him.

He had nowhere else to turn but himself.

He should feel sad, or scared, but all he could do was laughing at himself. The truth of the matter was, he was far too talented at isolating himself in a self-destructive way. He knew that. He could have easily asked for a help, but he didn’t. He could have picked a safer, less strenuous journey, but he didn’t. He simply didn’t know how to exist any other way.

The stars burned bright above. He just didn’t look up. There were lights in the distance. He just closed his eyes. Maybe, and just maybe, someone was out there waiting for him-- he just refused to believe that. That very thought scared the life out of him. It was so much easier to hide alone in the dark, not found, not missed, not needed and wanted and loved. No one could hurt him if they couldn’t found him.

So how could he not laugh at himself? This was his own fault, no one else’s.

He breathed in the frigid, forlorn air, let it filled his lungs, and got back up to his own two feet. He stretched his creaking legs, cracked his neck, and turned his eyes forward.

He dug himself into this grave and laid himself down. So it was his job to claw his own way out.

May 1995.

[tw: gun, death]

The sun came up nevertheless, even after a sinful night.

Almost everyday, he watched the frozen colors of daybreak painting the sky. Waking up in the morning, on his way to the training or on the track, he had seen it until it became a part of his routine. But until today, he didn’t realize how painstakingly beautiful it was.

A man just died by the hands of another, yet the dawn was terribly radiant.

“You okay there, kid?” asked Pablo as he lit a cigarette. Pablo was a tall guy with the unkempt, bushy beard, and always smelled like a mix of smoke and horribly musky cologne. He was one of Father’s henchmen, the trusted kind.

Leaning against the hood of the car, he fixed his dry eyes on the sunrise without words. He didn’t know how he was, to be honest. He could still taste the last night’s dinner in his throat after throwing it all up. His body was sore and he could use a shower or ten. So no, he wasn’t okay.

They had arrived at this riverbank a few hours ago as three. Now they were only two. ‘Take care of it’. That was Father’s order.

He quietly ran a thumb on his blistered, dirt-covered palm.

-----

“You know how to use this?” Pablo asked, holding out a grip of a loaded gun. They stood over the brand new grave in the field, both of them covered in sweat and dirt. He never liked guns. Having the weight that could end someone’s life in his hands wasn’t exactly pleasant.

And then Pablo dragged out the third man from the trunk of the car. Blindfolded, tied and gagged. Pablo forced them down on them knees. Their bloodied head and shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. They reeked of desperation and piss, squeezing out a muffled, incomprehensible plead.

He unlocked the safety and cocked the gun just like his brother taught him. ‘Man, your aim’s terrible.’ He remembered Leandro’s crooked laughter when he had managed to hit none of the beer bottles set up as practice targets. He brought the gunpoint up to the back of the captive’s skull. The shudder crawled up the barrel and grasped at his hand like barbed vines.

The cry morphed into a terrible howl, held back only by the spit-soaked gag. It begged and begged and begged for mercy, while spewing fear and rage and curse.

And he wondered, do any other animal beg for their life? Do they experience the same primal hatred that burns in your chest, the ashy black smoke of grudge you exhale at the one who holds your noose? Not just the instinct of self-preservation expressed in aggression, but the acute malice humans carry like a venom.

Because he wished he couldn’t understand what was buried underneath the scream.

Please, I’ll do anything.

He wished he couldn’t feel a thing.

I don’t wanna die.

His finger wrapped around that trigger and--

He lowered the gun, only to realize that he was covered in cold sweat. He couldn’t pull it. It wouldn’t take much force to squeeze that trigger. Just a tiny movement of the finger, and the gun would roar, and all this would be over. That was the impossibly thin line he couldn’t cross, the infinitesimal difference between a man and a killer.

He fumbled at the safety, shivering. His hand was locked in place and couldn’t let go of the gun.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” said Pablo, approaching him gingerly. A much bigger hand gently peeled his off the gun.

He stumbled backward as his knees gave in. The captive was now sobbing. From relief or panic, he couldn’t tell. But before he could process it, he heard the mechanical click, followed by a gunshot. With his ears ringing, he stared blankly as the headless body fell into the grave with a thud.

-----

“For what it’s worth,” Pablo started, polluting the fresh morning air with his cloud of smoke. “I thought this whole thing was fucked up.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the sunlight shattering against the surface of the murky river. No speck of cloud wandered in the sky above, and it would be the perfect sunny day of May. The air smelled of cigarette and late night rain. Three or so ducks swam about in the water, quacking without a care in the world. No care at all.

“Hey, don’t worry about your father,” Pablo blurted out. “I’m not gonna rat you out.”

“...okay.” He wasn’t particularly worried about Father. He thought whatever would happen would happen. What he didn’t understand was why would Pablo take a risk like that. He was just too tired to question it. “Thanks.”

The weight shifted as Pablo walked over to his side and sat down on the hood of the car. “Want some?” He extended a stick of cigarette.

He stared at the wrinkled packet in Pablo’s big hand, and then back toward the river. “I can’t.”

“What? You’re old enough.”

“No,” he said, “I run tracks. Can’t fuck up my lungs with that cancer sticks.”

“Oh,” Pablo thought for a second before putting out the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Pablo fished out a pack of gum instead. Without asking, the older man handed one over to him. Instead of unwrapping it, he just stared at it in silence. It was mint.

Disgustingly, his empty stomach demanded food with a grumbling. He recognized in a sick sense of detachment, that nothing had changed. The morning still came. The sky didn’t collapse. They could still talk about insignificant things. He still wanted a breakfast. Maybe no red meat, not at least for a few days, but he was still hungry.

And that moment, he realized that absolutely nothing would change if he were to die. The world would continue regardless.

July 2010.

Luke jolted out of his sleep. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t have been out longer than a few minutes. The sun was still rising toward the east, and the sky was ablaze with cold amber. He rose to his feet and dragged himself toward the western cliff of the island. Might as well watch the sunrise, he thought.

Just when he reached the end of the land, it occurred to him that he should have gone toward the east for the sunrise. His brain must have gone on a hunger strike or something.

Standing by the edge, he looked down into the mouth of the ocean, its jagged teeth and dark depth. That’s a long way down, he thought. The ocean collided into the land and shattered, crying out in the cacophony of waves. The light was yet to reach this side of the world, but gradually and surely, the boundless firmament was waking up. From the fading darkness emerged thin whisks of clouds. He sat down by the cliff, and aimlessly watched the clouds traveling westward, toward the horizon and beyond.

Even on this god-knows-where island, the world was as always infuriatingly and unabashedly beautiful. It taunted him, a tiny, meaningless blob of existence compared to its marvel, that it didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck my life,” he sighed to himself, laying back down and promptly finding the cliff to be the worst place to lie down. More clouds rushed by him toward the ocean, carried by the salty, lukewarm wind.

Death didn’t scare him-- not in the way it should, anyway. He knew it didn’t matter if he died here or not. He could starve himself to death, eat a poisonous berry, get eaten by a... whatever the fuck that lived in the Jungle, or jump off the cliff-- and the world would not care.

It’s just that, to him, death felt like admitting defeat.

Luke shot his final glare at the audaciously bright sky. He survived his family. He survived the streets-- hell, he was thrown into the ocean with bricks tied to his leg, and that didn’t kill him. Surely, it would take more than an island away from the civilization (and with possible cultists) to kill him.

So he got back up to his feet, as he always did, ready for another day of hunger.

#stranded:task #stranded task 2 #selfpara #tw:gun #tw:death #//if you can't tell this got out of hands lmfao

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luninosity · 4 years

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Okay, I’d already had the idea, so I couldn’t resist! One final @whumptober2020 ficlet (so...extra completion, I guess? :D ) for theme 30 (because I’d forgotten I’d already done that one!) NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? prompt: Ignoring an Injury

This one’s in the Character Bleed universe! It’s a Sam/Leo story, set sometime in the future...

Sam had seen a decent amount of television, and a decent amount of science fiction. He’d even seen a few episodes of this particular show, though not one in which Leo’s amoral space villain character popped up.

He waited very quietly where he’d been told to wait, out of the way behind cameras. He gazed at the movie set. They were filming in Ireland, in a wild jumble of dark rocks and crashing waves that’d stand in for an alien planet. Sam had never been to Ireland, or on a movie set, before.

Before Leo Whyte. Before kisses like rainbows, and brightly-colored teacups appearing in the morning, and the way Leo’s eyes warmed, green and brown shifting like shyly happy sand, every time Sam took his hand.

Dating an actor wasn’t without complications. Leo spent more money on new couch pillows than Sam had spent on an entire couch, and generously offered to pay for Sam’s whole family to visit London, and genuinely had no idea how to navigate a supermarket. Leo wasn’t Colby Kent levels of famous, but was recognizable enough that cameras popped up at airports and restaurants, and only the day before Sam had stepped to the side while Leo smiled and took pictures, as requested, with a group of fans who’d spotted them in a Reykjavik bookshop. That’d taken at least twenty minutes.

He watched Leo and the other actors get into position, crashed spaceship behind them. The male lead, the counterpart to Leo’s delightfully over-the-top petulant wickedness, said something that made Leo laugh, a joke or a comment. They were all dressed in tattered post-crash versions of science fiction extravagance, colorful and quirky. Leo’s long coat billowed in Icelandic wind; he glanced across rocks and cameras toward Sam, and waved enthusiastically before flopping down into rubble.

Dating an actor might be complicated. But dating Leo Whyte made Sam’s whole world more wonderful. Bigger. Way more full of rainbows. He wouldn’t be anywhere else.

He stayed out of the way. No one minded him being on the set—in fact, the director had been enthused about Leo’s photographer boyfriend dropping by, especially after Sam’s portraits of Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli’d had such an impact, and had said it’d be an honor if Sam wanted to document some of the filming process—but Sam was also very aware that he knew next to nothing about the intricacies of television production.

He had been capturing moments all week, and he’d happily contribute to a behind-the-scenes book. He was honestly amazed to have been asked, and asked in that tone of voice. He was still getting used to people knowing his name.

They began rolling. Leo’s character woke up first, struggling upright. He’d been responsible for sabotaging the ship, of course; but he had not planned for an outright crash.

He gazed around: at broken rocks, at a split-open ship hull, at flung bodies of companions. His expression changed; his whole posture changed. So many emotions ran through hazel eyes, lingered in the tip of his head, the set of his shoulders. He could escape. He could finish off his sworn enemy. He could try to contact his evil minions, back with the fleet.

Leo was so good at embodying a character, Sam thought. So brilliant. So talented. So much nuance. So amazing.

And his chest and body and even fingertips glowed, despite chilly wind: that was his boyfriend, being a genius.

Leo—clearly still shaken from the crash—staggered to the body of that adversary, that equal. The hero. Injured—badly so, a skewer of metal through his stomach—and bleeding, unconscious. At his mercy.

Leo, in character, dropped to both knees. Looked at the hero; looked at the blood; looked at the rocks, his own hands, the pouch at his belt that held poisons, communications arrays, sonic weapons. They’d fought each other and challenged each other and taunted each other for years, in the course of the show, on and off: a relationship fraught and crackling with intensity.

Leo’s character had studied energy transference, vital forces, psychic powers. He put out a hand. Rested it on the dying hero’s chest. No other characters, no companions, had stirred yet, though they would momentarily, on cue.

Special effects wizardry would transform the moment, Sam knew. But he looked at Leo’s face: calm, making a choice, no hesitation.

The wounds should fade. Vanishing. Healing.

Transferred.

They did not cut—the visual effects would handle the vanishing—but let the scene play out. The hero gasped in a breath, woke, sat up easily. Took in the situation with rapid-fire intellect. Spun to glare at Leo’s villain, who was now leaning back insouciantly against a broken piece of spaceship, arms crossed.

Leo just smiled. The hero demanded, “Don’t just stand there, be useful!” and pushed himself to his feet. “Shouldn’t expect anything else, should I…”

“No.” Leo didn’t move. “Why would I help you?”

“You’re still here. Why didn’t you run?”

“Perhaps my plan requires my presence. Shouldn’t you assist your minions?”

“They’re companions!” But he was, even as he scowled at Leo some more. “Just stay out of the way.”

Leo gave an ironic small salute. The main cast pretended to come to, waking up, groaning, checking on each other. Discussions began happening: where they’d landed, repairs, what to do next.

Leo, with no one paying him any mind, slid a hand inside his shirt, between fasteners. His fingers came away red; he looked at them for a moment, then buttoned his coat, dark and tight, over the shirt. Hiding the wound. Concealing the layers of emotion.

Sam, watching, felt his heart speed up. Of course it was the character, of course he felt for the character—but it was Leo too, his Leo, beautiful and wounded and exhausted, and nobody’d ever know how much he’d just done, the pain he’d taken, for a man who’d sworn to fight him…

Leo’s face was aware of all of that, in that second. And Sam, despite knowing it was fictional, ached for him. Hated everyone who’d ever made him lonely. Loathed the blood on Leo’s hand, under the shirt.

Leo looked up as the good characters all turned his way, and said brightly, “Come to a glorious optimistic decision, have we?”

“Be quiet for once,” grumbled the angriest of the companions, “prisoners don’t get to talk. We’re taking you to the Time Authority.”

“Ah, a plan. I shall look forward to seeing how you’ll manage it, with no working transport or communications.” Leo held out both wrists for binders, ironic. “Lead on.”

They began to walk, just enough for the shot; Leo stumbled. Caught himself, bound hands lingering against a chunk of ship for support, for an instant. “Sorry, just a rock, terribly treacherous, aren’t they?”

“You’d know about treacherous,” said the hero, quiet and frustrated and not knowing anything of what had happened moments ago; and he caught Leo’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They took a few more steps. And cut there.

Sam sagged into his chair, worn out by emotion. And he was only watching. Christ.

They did it all again, and again. Four times. Five. Leo was brilliant every time: dry and clever with dialogue, and silently profoundly compassionate, in a complicated and selfish way, when kneeling beside his adversary. Transferring the injury, letting himself bleed for the man he loved and battled and hated and was drawn to; and saying nothing about it, knowing they’d all believe he simply didn’t want to lift a finger.

Six times, and they were done; they’d have a bit of a break while moving to the next location, the corner of a fortress in black rock and whipping winds. Leo wriggled hands out of prop binders, waved at cast-mates, and ran over to Sam. “What’d you think?”

“I think you’re amazing.” He caught both of Leo’s hands, laughing; he leaned into the kiss. “So much emotion. Your expression—I mean, wow.”

Leo’s whole face brightened. He loved compliments, and rarely believed them, Sam knew: a hell of a lot of self-doubt hid under on-set pranks and kitten-adoption events. “It worked, then? I did think it went well, but then again I never feel like I know for sure. And it’s been some time since my last appearance. I was worried about getting back into the rhythm.”

“I felt it all. And I’m not even caught up with the show.” Sam glanced at Leo’s fingers, at a smudge of fake blood. Some of it had soaked through his shirt, and the coat. “It felt…real.”

And for a second, a split second, it did. He knew it wasn’t—he knew—but he’d said it aloud, and he could see the red, and he’d just watched Leo stumble and trip and stagger with pain, and it’d looked so…

“Oh, Sam.” Leo’s hands tightened around his, grip made of fingerless gloves and affection. “Thank you for the lovely praise, and I shall try not to let it feed my ego? What does one feed an ego? Is it like an eagle? Sort of carnivorous, and rather dangerous? I expect it could be, if one pushes the metaphor. Would you like tea?”

Sam, who knew exactly how Leo’s brain worked by now—the steps might not be obvious but made perfect sense, from bashful deflection to silly word-association to surprisingly insightful philosophy to making sure other people were taken care of and well-fed, both in terms of comfort and tea—said, “I love you, you know.” He did.

“I love you, and I love it when you say nice things to me.” Leo batted eyes at him, long-lashed and weightless. That was a joke, one that covered up absolute sincerity. “I’m glad I managed to make it believable. I’m obviously not at all presently being skewered by a spaceship section, not even a magically transferred invisible one, so it’s a bit difficult to act, in that sense.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’m glad you’re not being skewered.” He held Leo’s hand; they wandered toward craft services and a tea break, over scattered rocks, through slicing wind. Sam’s own coat was cozy and thick; he nearly asked whether Leo wanted it. That outfit couldn’t be very warm.

A personal assistant ran up. Thrust a blanket, large and woolly, Leo’s way. Leo took it and managed to transform it into a swooping fashion statement, a bundle of plaid and protection, and thanked her as she bounced off to continue blanket-deliveries elsewhere. Sam relaxed a little more.

Leo said, watching his face, “They do keep us warm, you know.”

“I know.”

“Are you having thoughts about ways we might warm up back at the hotel? Scented oils in a bathtub? A massage? Fabulous sex while I give you a massage in the bathtub with scented oils?”

A passing pair of extras, dressed for guard duty at the planetary fortress, froze mid-step and turned wide eyes Leo’s direction. Leo put up a hand and wiggled fingers, a wave. “I’ll see you in a few moments, and you can menace me with those laser spears! Looking forward to it!”

The taller extra opened his mouth, closed it, and managed, “Us too!” Leo beamed, saluted them, and kept walking.

“You’re not actually going to die, though,” Sam said. Leo’s fingers were still too cold, in his. He despised the invention of fingerless gloves. “I mean, on the show. They love bringing you back. Though—are you allowed to tell me? Don’t, if you’ll get in trouble.”

“You and I are such different people,” Leo said cheerfully, and stopped walking just to kiss him. “I love spoilers. I love knowing everything. Especially when no one else knows. But, sadly, it’s not a secret, at least not here on set. No, I’m decidedly not going to die. He’ll choose to let me go. So I can show up again later on. Everybody lives. It’s marvelous.”

“I like that,” Sam said. “Everybody lives. It’s a good ending.”

“Even the villain of the story,” Leo said. “Yes.”

“You’re not the villain. Antagonist, yeah. Anti-hero. But not a villain.”

“Really?”

“You save people. Yeah, it’s what you want too, it’s because you need him alive, you’re obsessed, all that. But you still save him, and then you help him, because you know he won’t leave his crew behind, and you want him to be…not happy, exactly, but…out there. Free. For you to find again. So, yeah. Not a villain.”

“Yes,” Leo said, “yes. That’s what I—thank you. For that.” His eyes were green and brown and pleased as spring.

“I get to give you a massage later,” Sam said. “And warm you up. You know. While you recover from magically transferred skewerings.” I love you, he meant. I want you warm and happy, underneath me, on top of me, whichever you want, as long as you’re here and laughing and probably making terrible jokes about the size of someone’s laser spear, in bed. I’ll make tea after, if you want. That blend that reminds you of home.

“All of that sounds splendid,” Leo agreed, clutching a fold of blanket as it started to slip, other hand still in Sam’s. The wind tugged at his hair, ruffling dramatically spiked blond strands. “You know how much I love your hands on me. All over. Every…inch of me.”

Sam had to grin. Leo Whyte, he thought again. His Leo. Finding a way for Sam to fuss over him, guessing Sam might need to affirm that every last bit of red was only fake, just in case, just to know; and then flipping it all into a sex joke. Ridiculous. Adorable. Perfect.

He said, “Sounds like a plan, then. I love all your inches.”

#whumptober2020 #no.30 #now where did that come from?#ignoring an injury #fic #character bleed #sam/leo #my fic #original characters #sort of?#fic for my published novels?

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maraudersandlily20 · 5 years

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The Aftermath

(HEY! I haven’t written anything in 1800 years, but I have this old draft that I’ve cleaned up and figured I’d post. And I’m dedicating it to the beautiful and lovely and SUPER talented Ash, @ashes-and-ashes-dust-and-dust . She has put up with me and my incessant need to read fic the last two days and I just really wanted to show my appreciation for her. So here’s some angsty fluff for you, Ash. I LOVE YOU!)

~~~~~~~

Sirius had never been more quiet. It was almost insane to the other boys how little they saw of him. After he had made a huge apology to everyone, he had stood in front of everyone as if awaiting judgement. It came in the silence of his friends. Remus could barely look at him, and so Sirius understood the message. He wasn’t wanted.

Remus hadn’t thought that Sirius would be so good at avoiding them, considering his loud personality. But somehow, he managed it. He stopped sitting with them during class, instead residing at a table at the back, if he attended class at all. He never slept in their dorm room. They never saw him in the great hall for meals. He didn’t study with them or plan pranks with them. He asked to serve detention alone, so as to not have to see the other boys. It seemed like he hadn’t uttered one word in over a month. It was almost like they had invented their Sirius Black and the illusion was finally coming to a grinding halt.

And it was driving Remus mad.

He was mad that Sirius had suddenly disappeared. He was mad that Sirius had put them in the situation in the first place. He was mad that he still looked for him and breakfast, lunch, and dinner and he was mad when he saw no signs of him. He was mad that he was serving detention alone. He was mad that he had seen more of Regulus in the last month than his brother. But most importantly, he was mad because he missed him.

The other boys couldn’t understand it. It seemed to be all or nothing with them, which made perfect sense to Remus. When he asked James where Sirius was, usually without thinking, James would give him a confused look and reply that he had no idea. He was trying to be a good friend and stay out of their business, but that could be frustrating when he had no idea what Sirius was doing. He was grateful they had taken his side and supported him, but he could almost feel the tension between the three of them, the elephant in the room always being that there was one part of them missing. James looked ill almost every night as he stared at the empty bed to his right. Euphemia and Fleamont were constantly writing him, asking how everything was, and he never how to answer them. Peter often started a sentence that only Sirius would know the answer to. But Sirius was never there to answer it.

The girls had also supported him. They hadn’t fully understood what had happened, but no one pushed him to explain. They simply knew that Sirius was no longer welcome among them.

It was an almost instant transition that hurt him more than he’d ever care to admit.

With Sirius’ disappearance, the map had also vanished. Almost like he didn’t want to present a temptation to anyone and he wanted to guarantee that no one would talk to him unless Remus had agreed to it.

Remus was tired. He was tired of feeling hurt and betrayed and small. He was tired of all of it. It was eating him up every minute of every day until he felt like he was going to go mad. He simply couldn’t focus on anything anymore, especially not his school work.

Lily sat beside the fire, her chin in her hands, as she watched Remus struggle to get a sentence to flow from his quill. Eventually, he threw the parchment and quill down and collapsed into his hands. She sighed. It was terrible to watch her friend suffer so terribly. And with how attached he and Sirius were, she could only imagine the pain the Black boy was in.

“Have you talked to him?” she asked softly, hoping not to stir up trouble.

Eyes tired, Remus looked up at her flatly. “No. I wouldn’t even know where to find him. And that’s IF I wanted to talk to him. Which I don’t.”

She almost smiled. Same old Remus. “Don’t you see him every night?”

Remus shook his head. “He doesn’t sleep in our dorm room anymore.”

“Classes?”

“He’s moved seats. And he hardly seems to be going to class at the moment anyway.”

Lily perked at that. Sirius was doing much worse than she thought. No one saw him and he had completely isolated himself. If she knew anything about him, it was that his abandonment issues must be almost paralyzing at this point.

“You really haven’t seen him?”

“Have you?”

She thought for a second and shook her head. “Marlene laid into him pretty thick after the… incident. He’s steered clear of us since.”

Remus looked miserable. The whole situation had been terrible and now he was likely losing his best friend. He couldn’t understand why Sirius had done what he did and hated him for it, but he was almost aching to see him as much as he despised the very idea.

“Maybe… maybe you should find him. At least, find out where he’s sleeping?”

It was a good idea. One that he had considered multiple times but had never followed through. However, he didn’t want to have a group intervention and make Sirius face all of them, because even though he was mad, he didn’t want him to feel attacked by his friends. Peter was with Mary and James was at practice, so if there was ever a time to find him alone, this seemed like a pretty good option.

With a sign, he pulled himself to his feet and shook his head. “This is a mistake.” he grumbled, making Lily laugh.

“Just, make sure he isn’t sleeping in the astronomy tower, will you?” He waved at her as he exited the portrait and began making his way through the numerous corridors that he thought Sirius might be in. Every turn was like an old chapter in their friendship, a book he had tried to put on the shelf and had failed terribly at as memories bombarded him one after the other. The place that they had pulled one of their famous pranks. The place that Sirius had hexed a slytherin so badly that the boy never went near them again. The bench where they had laughed so hard that Remus had fallen over. The hallway where Sirius had almost kissed Remus… almost.

Sirius was everywhere.

But he was nowhere to be found.

After about an hour looking, Remus was ready to give up. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. He had gone through as many options he could think of that Sirius would spend his time, to no avail. At the end of this length search, he hung his head. He had really hoped to find him. He was just turning back to go to the common room when suddenly, he found himself at the doors of the hospital wing. He had an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach, but there was something pulling him forward. He didn’t know why Sirius would be in here, of all places. But he had to try.

With a deep breath, he pulled the door open and was met with the sight of rows of beds on either side. Some had occupants, but none had the familiar black mane that he loved and had many times wished he could run his hands through.

Poppy walked toward him, a worried expression on her face.

“Mr. Lupin, I wasn’t expecting you for another week and a half or so. Is everything alright? Are you unwell?”

He laughed and rushed to reassure her. “No Poppy, nothing like that. I feel great. I just… I was wondering if Sirius was here.”

Understanding passed her eyes and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “He’s not here right now, but he spends most of his afternoons here, yes.”

This startled Remus. “Really? Doing what?”

“He cleans, mostly. He changes the bedsheets, mops the floors, wipes down the windows. Whatever I ask of him, he does. I have insisted more times than I can count that he needn’t worry or exert himself, that we can use magic just as well. But he insists that he enjoys the labor. It gives him time when he doesn’t have to think.”

Remus could only nod at this. He hadn’t expected Sirius to spend any time in the hospital wing at all. But when someone was desperate to stay away, anything would do.

“Is he coming here today?”

Poppy shrugged. “I’d assume so. Lunch is just about over, so I’m sure he’ll leave the kitchen soon.”

He felt his eyes bulge. “The kitchen?” He clarified.

“Yes, of course. He decided that the best way to spend his meal times was to help the house elves in the kitchen. He cooks and cleans with them during meals. Dumbledore allows it, I suppose out of pity. But no matter how much I insist, he still doesn’t eat much. Says he has no appetite. Poor thing. I know things are difficult for him now, for all of you. But it hurts to see him so.”

Poppy seemed to be a well of information that kept on giving. “Poppy, does he go anywhere else?”

“The library, I’d assume. He’s recieved permission from numerous professors to simply get his homework, which he completes in the library. It’s odd. They have been very accommodating. And still, Sirius thrives, as he always has. The brilliant boy.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No,” Poppy said, gathering her supplies and heading away. “He’ll be around soon, if you’d like to wait for him.”

Remus did want to wait for him. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea that Sirius was spending his days cooking and cleaning and doing laundry. It almost seemed unrealistic. He meandered his way over to one of the armchairs by the windows, where patients could sit and get fresh air, wondering what he was going to say to Sirius when he came in. The chair was an out of the way spot that wouldn’t easily be noticed. He sat and waited, listening to the clock behind him tick away the seconds. After about 20 minutes, the door swung open to reveal the boy himself.

Sirius looked terrible. Well, terrible for Sirius, that was. He still looked stunning, but there was a weight around him that couldn’t be dismissed. He had dark circles under his eyes and appeared to have lost a bit of weight, making him even skinnier than he had been. His hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck, and he wore a long sleeved shirt, despite the warmth of the room. He walked with purpose to where Poppy was treating a new patient.

Remus watched with curious eyes, wondering if Poppy would tell Sirius of his presence, but Sirius didn’t turn to him. Instead, he grabbed a large hamper and began stripping the sheets off of the beds. It was at this time he pushed up his sleeves and revealed the layer of bandages underneath. His skin looked almost as pale as the white of the wraps where it peaked out. Remus couldn’t help but worry and wonder what had happened.

Sirius finished an entire row of beds and was almost entirely through the other side when he caught sight of Remus in his chair. He stopped dead, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, it appeared he had stopped breathing.

Remus was unsure of what to do. He wanted to talk to Sirius but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to strangled him and embrace him all at the same time. He was full of conflicting feelings.

Sirius stayed frozen, panic filled him and he wondered if Remus was there to give him a hex. If he was, he was grateful he was already in the hospital wing.

When neither boy made a move toward the other, Sirius swallowed thickly and returned to his chore of stripping the beds. When he reached the last mattress, pulling the fabric off of it and shoving it into the hamper, he was almost close enough for Remus to touch him. He didn’t.

Sirius quickly walked back toward Poppy, depositing the bag to the side where it would be taken to be washed. He murmured something to the head nurse who immediately waved him off. Without looking at Remus again, he walked briskly toward the main doors, pulled them open, and then disappeared.

Remus shot up and followed him. He raced behind, trying to guess where he would go. He wasn’t expecting him to head up the astronomy tower, and Lily’s words of hoping he wasn’t sleeping there filled his mind. They must have gone up three flights of stairs before it opened up to a balcony, where Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm to pull him to a stop.

He barely registered the wince that covered his face before Sirius yanked his arm from his grip. He turned to face him and the silence between them was thick with unsaid words. Sirius was apparently determined to not be the first one to speak, so Remus let out a sigh.

He ran his hand nervously through his hair before staring into Sirius’ eyes and let out a breathy, “hello”.

Sirius only nodded.

“I, uh… I wasn’t sure where to find you. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve been in the gryffindor tower. Lily suggested that maybe you were sleeping up here.”

Sirius shrugged.

“You must have taken the map with you, because I’m pretty sure James has tried to find you on numerous occasions and can never find where the map went.”

Sirius said nothing, his eyes tracking Remus’ every movement, like a spooked animal unsure of its’ safety.

They stared at each other for a beat before Remus felt concern fill him. “Wait, you’re not sleeping up here, right?”

A head shake.

Remus felt his frustration grow. “Come on, Sirius. Talk to me. I came here to talk. I’ve spent hours looking for you so we could talk. I want to talk to you. So, will you please say something?”

Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.”

The dark haired boy looked at his feet, as if struggling to decide what to say before he looked up and said, “nice weather we’ve been having.”

Remus glared. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

The air between them seemed to heat up with the tension that came alive at his words and Remus could feel it, stretched thin between them, as if it were about to snap.

Sirius shrugged again. “I don’t have anything else we need to talk about.”

“Oh really? Because I haven’t seen you in a month, we never know where you are, you’ve basically erased yourself from campus without ever coming around. It feels like we have quite a bit to talk about.”

“We really don’t.”

“Yes, we do, Black.”

“Why? We’ve managed to go a month without talking, Lupin. I figured the silence said enough.”

Remus snorted. “Well you haven’t exactly been around to break the silence.”

“That’s what you wanted!” Sirius exploded finally. “That’s what all of you wanted! I couldn’t get three sentences out without someone telling me I had ruined everything, that I had hurt you, that I couldn’t be forgiven. And when I tried to explain or apologize, you all said it wasn’t good enough. That it wasn’t sincere. That it didn’t change anything! And you were all right. I knew that. I KNOW that. Everyone stopped listening to me, so I didn’t have anything to say anymore.”

“You’ve been stewing in your own self pity for a month and never gave anyone a chance to question that. You just disappeared!”

“You all disappeared! You vanished right before my eyes. My friends, my… my family.” Tears filled his eyes that he tried to fight back. “You all hated me. And I know you had good reason and I know that I deserved all of it. But I have been around people who hated me my whole life, Remus. You can’t expect me to stay.”

“We never hated you,” Remus shot back. “We were-” he stopped, trying to calm himself, before continuing; “I was upset because of what you did, but we all just needed time.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around himself. “Time doesn’t fix anything. You know that.”

“So, what, you were just planning on hiding in the kitchen and the hospital wing for the rest of your life?”

“Working distracts me.”

“That’s cowardly, Sirius.”

His eyes shot up to his, anger coloring them. “I know. You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for not feeling safe to sleep in our dorm room? You think I don’t despise the fact that I can’t go to class without wanting to shrivel into a ball and never crawl out? You think I don’t know that spending my meal times in the kitchen isn’t going to get me anywhere? I know! I know what it is; what my life is now. And I think it’s time you knew it too. So, come on, Remus. Just say what you came here to say. That I’m a coward, a fake, a monster, a backstabber, a two faced traitor. Come on. Just say it.” Remus stared at him, wide eyed as he vented, most likely the longest thing he’d said in the past 30 days. He was unsure of what to do. Sirius watched him struggle with himself before exploding again, “ SAY IT!” Remus startled at that, taking a step back. But still he said nothing. Sirius’ shoulders sagged and he turned away from him. “Then just leave me alone.”

Silence flooded between them, Remus watching all of the fight drain out of the boys body, and he felt his heart beginning to break. This was the hardest silence he had ever had to experience.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rem,” Sirius whispered, the tears beginning to streak down his face. “I can’t pretend like not seeing you, not talking to you, not making you laugh isn’t killing me. Okay? I can’t exist in your world when you hate me so much. I can’t. I just can’t. Please don’t fault me for that. Please don’t make me feel more guilty now, just because I’m trying to do what all of you wanted. I want you to be happy. And I ruined that for you. I’ve only ever ruined that. So please… please don’t make me try to explain or justify my actions. I can’t. I don’t want to. I hurt you. I hurt everyone. That was my decision and I’m paying the consequences for that. And it’s easier to do that alone. I don’t know what else you want me to say. I can’t spend my entire life feeling guilty. I know I made a mistake. And I’m so sorry. But you have to leave me alone now. Okay? It’ll just be easier for everyone.”

Sirius made to move around him, but Remus grabbed onto his arm tightly to stop him. When Sirius winced in obvious pain, Remus let him go as if he had been burned. He hadn’t meant to hurt him but then remembered the thin bandages that he had wrapped around his arms. Without a word, he took his arms and began unwrapping them to reveal the skin underneath.

When the skin was revealed beneath the wrapping, Remus sucked in his breath. There were long, deep criss crossed lines that littered his arms, red and tender looking. Some were backed by large bruises. Remus looked up at Sirius in horror, asking with his eyes what had happened. Sirius shrugged.

“I have found that fighting for you is much easier than fighting with you. I seem to be able to pick a fight with Slytherins now just by looking at them. It’s fine, really. Just a bit of lacero. Nothing I can’t handle.” he whispered.

“Sirius,” Remus replied just as quietly, feeling that familiar pull toward the Black boy, wanting to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.

Sirius tugged his arm away from his grasp and began winding the cloth around his skin once again. When the cuts were hidden, he crossed his arms over his chest and refused to look up at Remus.

“Were you ever going to come back?” Remus finally asked.

Sirius shook his head. “You didn’t want me anymore. I’ve had to live with people who didn’t want me my whole life. I couldn’t do it again.”

“Sirius-”

“No, Remus.” He stops him and holds his hand in front of him, as if stopping whatever assault is about to come his way. “It’s okay. I’m not saying this for you to feel bad for me. You have every right to be angry. You deserve to be angry. You deserve to hate me. I would hate me, if I were you. I hurt you in ways I can never take back and I’ll just have to live with that. But I can’t live surrounded by people who make me feel the way my parents always did. So, please. Please don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Silence. As if the words were covering the both of them just by being said.

“W-what?”

“I don’t want you to be okay by yourself, Sirius. I don’t want you to hide in the library or the kitchen or the hospital wing. I don’t want you to not speak to anyone for days on end. I don’t want you to do this,” He held up his arm gingerly, “by looking for unnecessary fights ever again. I don’t want that.” He took a step closer and tried not to burst into tears. “I want to know where you fall asleep every night. I want to know how your day was. I want to hear funny stories you figured out from your muggle history books. I want to make sure that you’re eating enough, which it’s pretty clear you haven’t been. I want to spend happy days with you so that I don’t have to remember the bad ones. I want you to earn my trust back. I want you to prove to me that you’re never going to do anything like that ever again. But you can’t do that if you disappear.”

Sirius was crying in earnest now as Remus framed his face with both of his hands. “I’m so sorry Remus,” he choked out, barely able to breathe. “I have been trying to imagine what I should have done differently, so you wouldn’t get hurt. I’m so sorry that I did that to you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Remus put his hands on his shoulder. “Hey, that’s for me to decide. Okay? So, let’s work on it.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes watery. Seemingly unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around the taller boys torso and allowed himself to sob loudly. Remus couldn’t help the few tears that streaked down his own face, giving the top of Sirius’ head a tender kiss.

They stayed like that for a bit, listening to each other breathe, holding onto their shirts as if afraid to let go. And Remus didn’t know what was going to happen. He didn’t know what was going to happen now, what would happen with their friends or when he would feel like he could trust him again, but there, on the third level of the astronomy tower with Sirius’ arms wrapped around his chest, he felt like his heart was slowly being put back together.

When the tears dried up and Sirius stopped hiccuping, he pulled back. Remus gently wiped at the streaks on his face and gave him a small smile, which Sirius could barely return, though he tried.

“Want to come back?” Remus asked gently, taking his best friends’ hand in his own. Sirius nodded, trying to steady his breathing at the thought of getting to speak to his friends again. He was terrified and hopeful and everything in between. He wanted his life to feel safe again and was grateful that Remus seemed like he was going to help him get back there.

Remus smiled lightly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, everyone is dying to see you.”

“Okay.”

As they started to descend the stairs, a thought came to Remus. “Wait, where have you been sleeping?” He asked, worried about the actual answer.

“What? Oh, one of the Hufflepuff Prefects has been letting me sleep on the floor of his room.”

Remus huffed and rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed.”

They stayed silent as they kept descended the stairs back to their own common room when Sirius perked up. “What do you mean?”

Remus just laughed.

#my writing #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #the weird fic that i didn't know how to write well #but I did it #this is ALL for you Ash #thanks for always indulging me

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rboooks · 5 years

Note

Do you think you will ever write more dimension hoppers?

Due to popular demand and because I have no self-control here is part 6 based off the wonder fic C’est La Vie by the ever-talented @cywscross which everyone should read since it’s in my personal opnion the best Harry Potter fic out there.

Neville watched as Black and Evans walked around the courtyard with narrow eyes, keeping himself out of sight ( and hopefully out of smell/hearing range as well) behind a second-floor pillar near a window. Evans was saying something that might have been humorous if Blacks quirking smile and shaking shoulders were any indications.

It was still mind-blogging to see Black laugh. Neville could count how many times he saw the Black Heir openly laugh throughout their five-year feud and still have some fingers left over.

Sure, the werewolf didn’t show much emotion around crowds but over the time in which the Golden Trio has been stalking them, he’s gotten glimpses of broad smiles and chuckles that he hadn’t been aware of the other male could even do. (Wasn’t that just a nauseating thought? Neville had to remind himself that Black was Potter’s partner in crime otherwise he fell like a monster for allowing that to happen)

And it was all due to the student with the highest possibility of being the Heir of Slytherin.

Neville didn’t mean to suspect the new transfer, really he didn’t, but ever since Halloween students people have been getting petrified left and right with no leads on who it could possibly be. Ron had been the first one to point out just how convenient it was that Evans arrived this year with a werewolf and a trio of Slytherins of all things at his side.

More so how utterly calm he was when the first attacked happened. No one could be that unaffected by such an event unless they knew about it beforehand in his friend’s words.

Hermione was still on the fence about that theory seeing as Evans didn’t sound like a Pureblood name, which means it was highly unlike he was attacking other muggle-born students but she did admit he could be a Halfblood who had terrible morals regarding muggle-borns and out of everyone he seemed to be the only student smart enough to pull it off.

Neville could agree. One had to be completely unaware of everything around them to not notice just how advance the second year was. He excelled at nearly all his classes with frustrating ease, dazzling all the teachers with his brilliant mind and his ability to finish homework packets in one night instead of the week it took others.

He also has uncanny charisma.

The first time they spoke face to face, Neville had watch his green eyes travel up to his forehead taking in the lightning scar. He expected the other boy to turn in a fumbling fanboy but instead Evans had stuck out his hand, introduced himself and acted as if though The-Boy-Who-Lived title meant absolutely nothing.

To him, Neville Longbottom was just Neville Longbottom, nothing more, nothing less.

It was a refreshing change.

Evans then took this wonderful change a step further, having noticed Creevy chasing Neville around with his horrid muggle camera during one of their shared classes. The muggle-born apparently got a kind but firm talking to about invading Neville’s privacy from the Hufflepuff and the kid actually listen enough to even apologize to the Griffindor’s face.

If Evans didn’t keep such troubling company, maybe they could have even been friends. But Ron was right. Just because Evans didn’t seem to be on Potter’s side - that wonderful nose breaking fight at the beginning of the year came to mind whenever he needed a smile- didn’t mean he could be trusted. The redhead claim that he knew something was off about the transfer the moment he shopped at his family store.

He watches you Ron had said during Evans’ sorting He keeps track of everything you do, the bloody creep.

If one of his best friends didn’t trust the Hufflepuff then Neville would be wary of him too. He hadn’t been all that suspicious of him being the Heir until Colin Creevy turned up petrified. When he was found the first year had been clutching a bowl of grapes and an envelope addressed to Evans.

No one but the green eye teen knows what was inside that envelope.

Then after an argument in the dueling club where Justin Finch-Fletchley had repeated some less then favorable words regarding werewolves in Evans’ earshot the boy was discovered petrified in the hallway alongside Nearly Headless Nick who had invited Evans to his Death Party.

if all the victims were connected to Evans then it only made sense that he was the Heir running around hurting people. Neville just had to prove it.

“Come on,” Ron says looking down the hallway from his right making sure no one was around. Lowering his voice he contuined “Hermione has the polyjuice ready. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”

The two boys quickly made their way to the girls’ bathroom, ducking in quickly with the pieces of hair they managed to steal off of Zabini and Nott (Neither could get close enough to Malfoy). Hermione had stolen some from a first-year Ravenclaw that Evans like to talk to even though the girl was a loon.

“We have one hour” Hermione warns them once she completed the potions. “Evans usually spends his free period reading Ancient Runes books on the third-floor window sill waiting for Black’s class to be over. Its the only time he’s alone.”

“Right. All we have to do is get him to confuse to being the Heir but Evans is smart. Don’t be too pushy or he’ll figure out something is wrong” Neville says looking at his best friends, “He’s dangerous and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

The three chugged their potions in separate stales, emerging after minutes of gagging and changing. They eyed each other for a moment in wonder at the fact that it works before quickly making their way up to the third floor. Zabini is taller then Neville, everything from his point of view looks different and it was downright bizarre to be able to see over people’s heads.

He hopes he can be this tall someday because while strange, it’s cool to be tall.

Finally, he spots Evans. The Hufflepuff is right where Hermione said he be, casually reading an Advance Runes Academic Journal that was recently published with a content little smile. Next to him, on the window sill are papers and an open muggle notebook.

He didn’t seem like a sociopath but they never do, do they?

Neville opens his mouth to greet the other second year as much as Zabini fashion as he could. But he doesn’t get the chance to make a sound since the book is snap close in an instant.

Evans looks up sharply at them when they approach. It’s such an intense stare the three stumble a little and his green eyes feel like fire. For a moment, Neville feels like he’s a fumbling foot soldier standing before a war-general and he’s lacking in anything intelligent to say.

Ron-as-Nott makes a nervous noise that sounds shockingly like the real deal when he asks. “Is something wrong Evans?”

It seems to be the right thing to do since Evans relaxes smiling at them in …amusement? “No nothing at all. Sorry, Theo you just surprised me, is all. Why aren’t you in class?”

“I wanted to chase the Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” Hermione-as-Luna says airly having thought up her excuse long before Ron and Neville. Both boys were just going to claim to need the bathroom or something. “I saw them run this way. Have you seen them, Hadrian?”

Delight blooms on the transfer’s face. “No, I didn’t see where they went, Luna. But we can try looking for them together if you want? It’s not a good idea to run off by yourself what with the attacks and all.”

Oh boy. He’s brought up the attacks so quickly! This might be easier then he thought.

“We don’t have to worry about that now do we?” Neville-as-Zabini tried to say as snobby as he could. He’s never heard the other boy speak in anything other then a stuck up tone though to be fair Blaise Zabini didn’t really talk. He was quite like Black.

Evans’ face twitches. It’s difficult to say what the ripple of emotion going through his expression is but Neville is almost positive it’s straight-up amusement. He then dips his chin with a soft hum. “You might not think so Blaise, but whoever is attacking people seems to be going after anyone alone. It’s better safe than sorry.”

What?

“If you say so,” Ron says rolling his eyes like Nott does when a teacher lectures the snakes on something. “I just don’t want to go back to class anytime soon. I hate this block.”

“I thought Charms was your favorite class Thoe?” Evans says with a raised brow.

“I-it is! I just…today lesson is boring that’s all. I already know it and I can’t understand why we waste time going over it again and again” Ron tries to cover his mistake. “Probably because of those Gryffindorks.”

Neville wants to slap his forehead but that’s not something he thinks Zabini would do. Next to him, Hermione shifts around, playing with a lock of Lovegood’s hair and tilting her head upwards as if though she was seeing the creature the strange blond claim she saw.

Evans smiles. “That makes sense. Also, I thought we agree you wouldn’t be using that word anymore.”

Ron blinks in confusion so Evans tacks on “Gryffindorks. We agree you stop using it.”

Right this conversation was really going off the rails, time to get everyone back on track because they didn’t have time to go over the fact Evans apparently tried to get the Slytherins to stop using certain words. That was a thought for another time.

Maybe one where Neville wasn’t feeling bad that Evans was evil because he seemed like an okay kind of bloke.

“Do you really think we be in danger?” Neville asks scoffing at the end of his words. “Especially you Evans?”

“I might not be muggle-born, Blaise, but being Half-blood still puts me in danger,” Evans answers mildly. He is cleaning up his stuff which allows the Golden Trio to trade confuse looks behind his back. “My mom being muggle-born might be close enough to attempt to petrified me.”

“Your mom is a muggle-born?” Hermione blurts confuse then quickly realizes she needs to act loonier so she adds “Did that mean she was surrounded by nugglerals?”

Evans looks over his shoulder at them as he swings on his shoulder bag “Yes. Before she died”

“Oh.”

There is a pause before Ron seems to want to move on. “Do you think they deserve it? Those M-mudbloods?”

He only stumbles over the word a little but Evans still turns around with a glare that could freeze over hell. “I just told you my mom was a muggle-born and you dare to use that word?”

Oh, Merlin, they’re going to die. Evans is pissed and it’s terrifying. Neville barely holds back a whimper as the other boy marches towards them with death in his eyes but he walks by them with a huff. Ron, who had frozen up in terror, relax with a sigh of relief.

The Hufflepuff leaves without a single word, his anger quite and cold. For some reason, Neville feels sick to his stomach as if though he just upset Gran.

“I think that didn’t go as well as we hope” Hermione sighs.

“No.” He agrees, hand over his stomach “No it didn’t”

Three days later Orion Black releases a noise that sounds very close to a wounded and outrage animal when Hadrian Evans’ body is found curved over Luna Lovegood’s terrified expression in an obvious attempt to shield her from whatever petrified them.

It’s a good thing he did, because, according to Hermione she would have died the moment a second later for looking into a Basilisk’s eyes unprotected. Thank goodness she was able to piece it together and the Trio was able to find the real culprit soon after that.

Who knows what would have happened to Ginny if they were a few days too late?

The werewolf is the one that sniffs out Ginny for them, as the Golden Trio is forced to create a shaky alliance with the teen who is determined to avenge his pack. Hadrian is apparently the only person outside his parents that Black counts as pack and it doesn’t take Neville long to realize it’s due to his crush on his best friend. It breaks his heart a little to see Black’s devastated eyes when they visit the victims in the medical wing.

He fights against Tom Riddle just as wild and as vicious as his condition makes him.

Neville can only hope they all come out of this alive. He can’t die without apologizing to Evans for deceiving him. Especially after finding out Evans had been doing his best to defend the Boy-Who-Live against the other houses who thought he was the Heir.

Orion kicks Tom Riddle between the legs as hard as he can sneering and Neville can’t find it in himself to even wince. That werewolf strength makes the crack sound and the scream from mini-Voldemort all that much more satisfying.

#Harry Potter #Anonymous #Au: Dimension Hoppers Store #Part 6 #c'est la vie #OrionXHadrian #Neville's pov #So Hadrian made himself some enemies for being friends with Slythrian firsts #He could tell right away those three were the Goldren Trio #He reconized thier footsteps #This is more plot base #Yes I know Hadrian would be able to beat the Basilisk #But Luna would have died and he couldn't let that happen #Neville is a good bean #ORION IS OUT FOR BLOOD #Once Will hears about his heads are going to roll #16 year old Tom Riddle is not prepared for pissed off Werewolf #I lost track of this one #Sorry for the long wait!

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araluen-arrows · 5 years

Text

crowley’s apprentice

**some creds to the RA discord for helping snowball this idea along

it makes no sense that crowley, as one of the bright young rangers taught by pritchard (one of the most respected figures in the corps) to not have an apprentice. like, yes, he was busy with being commandant and rebuilding, but it’s also only logical for the commandant to have an apprentice skilled at administrating and ready to take over for them if anything were to happen.

so, using the fandom’s Override Canon at Any Oppurtunity function, we have collectively decided to give Crowley an apprentice:

Gideon joins the Corps after the Battle of Hackham Heath. He participated in the battle as a squire, and he saw what difference a Ranger made in turning the tide of the battle. He decides to apply to the newly-reforming Corps after Araluen was secured once again.

At sixteen, already a renowned swordsman, he has spent four years under MacNeil, two in the Battleschool of Caraway, and he has been riding and shooting since he could walk.

As a plus, he is the oldest son of Sir David, the King’s cavalry commander. He is charismatic, brilliant, inquisitive, thorough, and talented, the person his brother yearns to be, the pride of his father’s life and the joy of Crowley’s.

Two years later, Gilan is thrown into a creek by the Ranger Halt and begins his apprenticeship in earnest as well. And for a while, everything is happy. Halt and crowley are closer than brothers, and now their apprentices are siblings as well. Gideon was one of the only warriors who could defeat Gilan at the sword. At Gil’s first Gathering, Gideon sees him and slings him over his shoulders despite the protests, carrying him the rest of the way to the Gathering Ground.

He is overconfident to the point of recklessness as his only fault. but Crowley smiles fondly and lets it pass. He remembers when he was the same during his apprenticeship: bright with the optimism of youth, swaggering and sure of himself. He will temper with age, he tells Halt. Let the boy be a child.

Gideon would never grow out of boyhood.

<>~<>~<>

There is a lot of administrative work these days for Crowley to handle. There are rumors to investigate, treaties to rewrite, rangers to commission. But, as always, there are also enemies of Araluen to track and kill, bandits to clear from the roads, and smugglers to flush from their dens. One man, even if that man is a Ranger Commandant, can’t keep track of it all.

So Gid volunteers to. He takes up residence in the cabin near Castle Araluen, spending time there in two-week chunks. He represents Crowley in his dealings with criminals, and through him, the King.

It isn’t like the power gets to his head or anything. but when you are a teenager (a kid, really), there is always a certain amount of arrogance involved. It is always you against the world, and there is no chance you will not emerge the victor. The world is painted gold with the promise of a bright future, and it is your oyster.

but there is no time to be a child in the aftermath of war.

Morgarath learns of this development through his network of spies. He has spent four years now nursing his wounds, letting his bitter hatred for the ranger corps fester. and before Halt is famous and immortalized in the songs of bards, it is Crowley, the young Commandant, that is the face of the Corps.

But Crowley is difficult to get to. He’s one of the best and brightest Rangers, and he’s based within Castle Araluen itself, the impenetrable fortress that Morgarath didn’t dare take even when he was strong. Halt is just as difficult to attack, because he’s located in Redmont, a large and populous fief. So who does he target?

Reports leak into Castle Araluen about bears, large, shambling, killing livestock and farmers in the countryside. It seems like a routine enough job: Crowley dispatches his apprentice to take care of them.

They were not bears.

These were the days where Morgarath had at his disposal the darkest creatures of myth and legend, and among them were the three Kalkara. and one apprentice, no matter how talented or bright, has no chance against the hunting Kalkara. Especially if he is caught unawares.

Gideon tracks the creatures into the forest. The paws seem too large, half again as wide as a man’s hand, and he thinks that there might be an extra toe, but the path is muddy and it’s difficult to tell. Suddenly, his horse shies underneath him and skips backward, but then she freezes altogether and collapses. Her heart has stopped of sheer terror. As she falls, Gideon just manages to kick himself free of the saddle. He goes for his sword, then realizes it will not be enough.

Facing him is one of the ape-like beasts, standing nine feet tall with scaly skin and luminous yellow eyes. They draw him like a moth to flame, and it takes all his willpower to drop his gaze. His brain is working well enough to recognize that if a creature wants you to look it in the eyes, it is probably not a good idea to look it in the eyes.

Faster than thought, he draws his throwing knife and hurls it at the creature’s face. It sinks nearly hilt-deep into its cheek: Gideon is just mere inches off-target, but mere inches could cost him his life. The Kalkara bellows in pain and he feels a moment of satisfaction, but his heart freezes as he hears an answering bellow.

Two answering bellows.

Gideon darts for the river, just a hundred meters away, wades across it, and dives behind a boulder. He can practically feel the Kalkara’s hypnotizing eyes on him, daring him to look up. He still doesn’t know what these things are, but his instincts are sound. His horse looked at those eyes, and his horse is now dead. Bottom line: do not look at the eyes.

He hears a splash and realizes the first Kalkara has followed him all the way to the river. Gideon closes his eyes. He cannot outrun. He can cower and hide, or he can stand and fight.

As the monster bears down on him, he fires arrow after arrow at its face, hoping to blind those terrible eyes. It is halfway across the river. Three-quarters.

His third arrow takes it in the right eye, and his fifth the left. It screams, an unearthly, undulating sound, and leaps for the bank, intent only on punishing the one that caused it such agony.

The first blow shatters Gid’s longbow and numbs his right arm all the way up to the shoulder. He claws his sword out of its sheath with his left hand, and metal meets flesh as the Kalkara strikes at him again. He scores a long cut along his forearm, but the force of the blow nearly knocks the weapon from his fingers.

Before he has time to rally, the third hit drives him to his knees, cracking ribs and setting his lungs on fire. He can barely roll out of the way as the Kalkara stumbles and collapses next to him, having finally vanquished its archenemy.

Briefly, he wonders if the sun is setting early, but then realizes his eyesight is dimming; there is no coming back from this. Crowley, he thinks as his vision goes black. Crowley, I failed.

<>~<>~<>

Three days later, when a panic-stricken Crowley finally receives the report from the search parties, he thinks the same thing. It should have been him out there. It should have been him facing the Kalkara.

He can practically see Morgarath sneering at him. A child has died because of you. You couldn’t protect one apprentice—how will you ever protect forty-nine Rangers?

A hot rage rises in his chest. Morgarath had taken Pritchard from him, nearly taken Halt, and now he had taken Gideon as collateral damage with one goal in mind: to hurt Crowley as much as possible.

In a way, it does work. Crowley never takes another apprentice. He no longer trusts himself to bring up another promising young Ranger and see so much potential squandered because of him. He does not want to bury another child.

But Crowley does not let Morgarath win. He does not rest until Morgarath is well and truly dead. For three decades, he serves as the Corps Commandant, longer than any before him and any after him.

“Married to his job”, the people joke, but they are actually not far from the truth.

Crowley is guarding Gideon’s legacy.

#ranger's apprentice #crowley meratyn #ra headcanon #ra fanfic #rangers apprentice #morgarath #gilan davidson

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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A fifth of the way through! Who’s proud of me? :D

Noisy - After a certain seance Aziraphale is feeling insecure about how much he talks.

Aziraphale was speaking.

Had been for the majority of their meal, pausing only to take bites of the Norfolk crab with ossetra caviar, veal fillet with asparagus in a wild garlic sauce, chocolate and hazelnut mousse for dessert with a second order of the fruit sorbet because he hadn’t been able to decide and really, why not both?

Why not both?, Crowley agreed. He adored watching Aziraphale eat. All those quirky mannerisms that positively screamed his personality for all to see. The way he would slide each fork-full from his mouth with agonizing slowness, ensuring that he’d picked up every morsel from between the tongs. Raising his napkin after every fourth or fifth bite, whether there was a mess to clean up or not. Aziraphale went deathly still when he ate, as if he couldn’t bear to distract from the taste with any unnecessary movement. Except when he’d taste something new or unexpected and then it was all wide-eyed surprise; that absurd little wiggle. Aziraphale flipped his spoon before taking a bite because, “The mousse should hit my tongue, dear, not the roof of my mouth. Obviously.”

Obviously. On nights like this Crowley was grateful they hadn’t had to keep up their ruse any longer. One look at Aziraphale-as-him digging into that popsicle and the whole jig would have been up.

And Crowley could never hope to re-create this.

So yes, he loved watching Aziraphale eat. He loved hearing him speak more though.

Why not have both?

“So I told the dear girl—quite firmly, I should say—that we would have to undergo a true apocalypse before I gave her those sigils. Hell would need to freeze over and such. Though I suppose you could manage that if you put your mind to it.” Aziraphale took another bite of his sorbet and dropped a wink that sent a flush rising up Crowley’s neck. “Anathema is a brilliant young woman but really? Giving her access to Enochian symbols? I can only imagine the horrors that would produce! And trust me, dear boy, I have quite the active imagination.” Another bite; another flipped spoon. “She swore she only wanted to study them, but if any mortal is capable of sketching out a true celestial circle it would be that witch. Then where would she be? Accidentally killed, that’s what. Or worse, getting through to them! Can you imagine Anathema summoning Metatron into that little cottage? No, no, no. We’ve had quite enough upheaval for one millennium, thank you.”

Crowley had long ceased trying to get a word in edgewise. In truth he didn’t want to. Six-thousand years together, but so little of it spent together. They’d meet randomly or clandestinely and it would never matter which because they knew it could only be for a brief moment or two. One side could always be watching them. Both, even. And it took Crowley decades to realize how much of that precious time was just spent posturing. Aziraphale feigning shock at their latest arrangement. Crowley pretending like that actually annoyed him. They had their routines down, a script they read from, and though Crowley had learned to love that for its familiarity, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing. Hearing Aziraphale wax on about oysters or give summary accounts of Hamlet couldn’t compare to this: hours upon hours of meandering, casual thoughts.

Crowley settled his chin further into his hand. Beneath the table his free fingers circled in a clockwise motion, a bit of extra energy spent on slowing down time. Nothing terribly noticeable. It wouldn’t even affect the humans. Much. Just a devilish little miracle that would give Aziraphale more time than what the real world had to offer.

Because they’d been sitting here four hours now and Crowley was fully prepared to sit another four.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked. He downed the rest of his La Grande Année and smiled over the rim of the glass. Like he somehow knew that, whatever Crowley’s answer, it would be well worth knowing.

Problem was, Crowley hadn’t the faintest idea what Aziraphale had just said.

Hmm. Distraction via flipped spoon. It happened. Not that there was much danger here. Aziraphale had the distinct talent of being able to talk about a single topic for hours—if not days—on end. Always easy to slide into.

“Really, angel? Giving me a say?” Crowley pushed his own, untouched tart across the table. “I thought you’d already made up your mind about the witch?”

He’d meant it as a bit of light teasing. Poking fun, making jokes, being a nuisance and all that. So watching Aziraphale’s expression fall took the breath right out of Crowley’s lungs.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly soft. “Yes. I have been prattling on, haven’t I?”

And Crowley, in a moment of incredible insight and sensitivity said,

“What?”

Aziraphale had been reaching for the tart but now drew his hand back, beginning to fiddle with the edge of his vest instead. “I’m terribly sorry. Rather rude, isn’t it? All things considered. I promise to make more of an effort in the future and you must stop me if I suddenly start rambling once again. You deserve to—” Aziraphale’s mouth suddenly clicked shut, eyes popping wide as he realized what was happening. Crowley could see his jaw working for a long moment. “I want to hear what you have to say too,” he said. Simply.

Meanwhile, Crowley’s elbow had slipped off the table and he nearly took the rest of the food with him. When he came back up there were splashes of champagne on his sleeve.

“I—why—?” Crowley tugged his glasses just low enough to take a good, long look. “I haven’t got anything to say.” Which wasn’t true exactly. Plenty of ribbing to indulge in when it actually managed to land, but right now Crowley had bigger fish to fry. Flay ‘em, cook ‘em, and serve 'em up with lemon butter so his angel would actually smile again. “What precisely are you on about?”

Aziraphale shrugged. He never shrugged. “Just thought I might be...”

“Be?”

“...talking too much.”

Crowley slipped off the table a second time.

“It’s just—”Aziraphale said, clearly trying to explain without continuing to talk. Which most people will realize is rather the lost cause. “Madame Tracy. Or rather, her friend. Or perhaps not a friend exactly. A client? Follower?” Aziraphale scowled when Crowley just went on blinking at him from halfway out of his seat. “A woman asked to speak to her dead husband and being an angel currently existing between planes I accommodated her and he told her to shut up.” He exhaled after all that, lips trembling. “Separated for who knows how long and the only words he had for her were ‘shut up.’ Because she’d never let him have his say. I... I would never want you to feel the same way, dear boy. I couldn't stand it. ”

Jesus-H-Bloody-Fucking-Are-You-Kidding-Me-Christ.

If Aziraphale wanted him to talk more he was shit out of luck because Crowley’s voice had died a mangled, embarrassing death. Giving up the ghost via shock was like that. And oh sure, sure, plenty of things he could say if his vocal cords kicked back in. Like how Aziraphale was stupid for thinking he could compare them to some random human couple who clearly needed therapy. Or ask if Aziraphale had ever paid one ounce of attention these last six thousand years because if Crowley wanted to say something? He’d damn well say it. No fussy angel was going to stand in his way.

(Not unless he asked really nicely. Or looked at Crowley in that particular way of his. Or so much as thought about wanting him to shut up. Because those were all entirely different situations.)

Speech seemed to be the enemy now. Which was all kinds of horrible since Crowley liked Aziraphale speaking and had hoped to soak up another couple hours of it before the night was over. Who could put something like that into words though? Even when words were an option? Not Crowley.

So instead he summoned up a small black book and slid it across the table.

Aziraphale blinked. "What's this?"

"Read it."

Just a small, ironically innocent notebook. Every demon had one. Standard issue for the bastards lucky enough to go topside. Recounting your deeds was all well and good provided you actually remembered what evil deeds you’d been up to each day. Too often demons melted back into hell having forgotten half of what they’d done. They might not be good at record keeping down there, but there was something like an effort. So, yeah. Write it all down like a good little worker bee.

“Go on,” Crowley said, keeping his voice at a whisper. Aziraphale hesitantly took the book in hand. “Out loud.”

Crowley hadn’t written a deed down for thousands of years.

“June—” Aziraphale paused, having opened to a recent date. He swallowed hard. “June 3rd. Angel went on about gilding again all through lunch. Improper heating techniques and wet vs. depletion. I currently know more about pretty books than any decent demon ever should. Good thing I’ve never been decent.

“June 4th. Got reamed out for going over 90mph again today. Wonder how many times I can get Zira to squeak like that? Half-hour lecture to follow. Gonna start just as soon as he gets back with the shawarma. In three... two... one...

“June 5th. Talked a lot about knitting today. Thinking of picking it back up before winter. Zira had a whole pro/con list for crocheted vs. knitwear but honestly? If it’s warm?? Who cares??? Angel, apparently. There were many thoughts on socks.

“June 6th. Some bugger on the bus had his music blasting while I was trying to hear Zira’s latest Gabriel impression. The kid is gonna end up with wet jeans one way or another for the next week.

“June 7th. Right. Zira might have been onto something with the whole crocheted socks rant. Pretty sure this is one of Beelzebub’s inventions—Crowley.”

Aziraphale finally looked up, his eyes wet in a way that made Crowley shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You keep a diary.”

He winced. “It’s not a diary!”

“It most certainly is,” Aziraphale crowed, flipping through some of the older entries. “I'm astounded at what a faithful record this is—especially since Armageddon—and so many of them are about me. They're...” The impact of that last bit seemed to hit Aziraphale all at once, stilling his hands. “Oh. They’re all about me.”

Talking.

Crowley shrugged. Because he was the one who shrugged in this relationship. He pressed the little book back into Aziraphale’s hand when he tried to pass it back. Crowley’s fingers ran over his knuckles then, soft and slow.

“Keep it awhile,” he said. “For the next time you get some ridiculous idea stuck in your head. Now, what were you saying about the witch girl? My memory’s worse than a goldfish’s, angel. You know that. Best you start from the beginning."

Aziraphale wasn’t much for public displays of affection, but he did bring their still-intwined hands up to his lips, resting them there for a moment.

When he started speaking again Crowley’s skin was gifted with the very first words.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic

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duhragonball · 4 years

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The 10 Best Episodes of Dragon Ball and DBZ

Back in October I wrote up a list of the ten worst episodes of Dragon Ball, and I always meant to go back and do a ten best list to go with it. Well it’s the last Sunday of the year and I got nothing better to do, so I’m gonna knock that out today.

Honestly, I’m not sure which one of these was tougher to do. The main reason I made a worst list was because I noticed a small handful of episodes I just didn’t like, and I realized that even with a show I like this much, there had to be at least ten stinkers, so I liked the challenge of picking them out. On the other hand, picking the ten best episodes is like finding really good pieces of hay in an awesome haystack. And I’m a horse, so I’m already super-into hay. This analogy is getting tortured, so I’ll just move on.

Honorable Mention: Dragon Ball Z Episode 125.

I think the fandom has unanimously agreed that this is the all-time best episode of Dragon Ball, but it didn’t feel right putting it in my list. I don’t know if that’s because I sincerely believe it’s the 11th best episode, or because I just don’t want a predictable choice taking up space on my list. That’s how Dragon Ball rolls sometimes. Past a point, you can’t tell if you’re liking something ironically, or just plain liking it.

Without question, this is the all-time best filler episode. We all know the tale: Goku and Piccolo are busy training for the upcoming Androids battle, but Chi-Chi is sick of them not helping around the house, so she wants them to take driver’s ed so they can drive her to the grocery once in a while. Well, mostly Goku, but Piccolo somehow gets roped into it too. Honestly, I don’t think he really needed to go through with this. He pouts like Chi-Chi made him do this somehow, but she was clearly only interested in getting Goku licensed up. I think he just sort of invited himself into this situation because he wanted to feel like part of the family.

Anyway, the boys dress up in stupid/awesome civilian clothes, and somehow manage to be great at driving and terrible at driving at the same time. It’s a very zen kind of show. Also there’s a smidgen of Vegebul goodness, and Icarus shows up for no apparent reason, so there’s something for everyone.

10. Dragon Ball Z Episode 120

This the one where Future Trunks kills Mecha Frieza. There’s no shortage of fans who think reviving Frieza in the 2010′s was worth it, but for my money, nothing they do with the character can possibly top his (first) death scene.

Leading up to this episode, everyone just assumed that Goku killed Frieza on Namek, but he survived, got rebuilt as a cyborg, and invaded Earth for revenge. The implication is that Goku will have to fight an even stronger version of his greatest foe, except he’s nowhere to be found, and no one else stands a chance of holding the line until Goku can arrive.

But then the story ups the ante again by having a totally new character show up, turn Super Saiyan, and shrug off Frieza’s attacks like they’re nothing. When he finally attacks Frieza, he whips out a cool-looking ki blast, and that turns out to just be a feint. No, his real attack is a simple swing of an ordinary sword, which cuts Frieza in half like he’s made out of butter.

Meanwhile, all the major characters are standing on the sidelines wondering what the hell is going on here. There’s a Super Saiyan besides Goku? Aren’t all the Saiyans extinct? Where did this new guy come from, and how did he even know to be here?

It’s a brilliant episode, because it serves as a coda to the menace of Frieza that loomed large over the previous 119 episodes of Z, and it also serves as a prelude to the next 75 episodes, which promises a crisis far beyond anything that’s come before. But it also works as a stand-alone story. Frieza’s body tells the story of why he wants revenge on the Super Saiyan, and when Trunks reveals that there’s more than one Super Saiyan, he completely self-destructs. He goes from the tyrant of the universe to just another corpse in a matter of minutes. It’s amazing to watch.

9. Dragon Ball Episode 67

Strictly speaking, Goku’s assault on the Red Ribbon Army base is three episodes, so maybe it’s gauche to include one and not the others, but this one is the climax of the Red Ribbon’s downfall, so I think it stands out.

By this point, Goku’s already entered the RRA headquarters, and is just having his way with the place. Episode 66 was full of guys trying to shoot him, but he just kicks all their asses and moves on. Staff Officer Black has finally realized what they should have accepted from the beginning: that Goku is too strong for them to defeat by force. But Commander Red can’t quite bring himself to give up the fight. Maybe it’s because so much of his identity is tied into the Red Ribbon’s supposed invincibility, or he just can’t fathom how a small boy can do all these things.

I think what really hurts his pride is when his soldiers start deserting en masse. Before, he could keep them in line because of the Red Ribbon’s fearsome reputation, but that’s over now, whether he believes it or not. When Colonel Violet loots his treasure vault, not even bothering to disable the security cameras, he has to know that it’s all over.

Then we find out that he only wanted the Dragon Balls so that he could make a wish to become taller, and Black is horrified. He wasted all those lives and resources for something as petty and selfish as that? What makes this episode so great is how the world around them is crashing down, and they’re arguing over a plan that’ll never happen anyway. And Red absolutely doesn’t get why Black would think his wish was stupid. He’s like “Um, you need to check your tall privilege?” And Black shoots him in the face because he’s just done.

But this episode’s not done, because once Red is out of the picture, Black sort of loses it and tries to fight Goku for possession of the Dragon Balls. It’s really amazing character development, because Black was the calm, collected center of the Red Ribbon Army, but then he just flips out, forgetting all the lessons his comrades learned the hard way. The lure of the Dragon Balls is just too seductive for him to give up.

Also, Colonel Violet is super cute.

8. Dragon Ball Z Episode 135

A few episodes before this one, Vegeta debuted his own Super Saiyan transformation, and kicked the shit out of Android 19. It was a big deal, because up to that point, Goku and Trunks were the only Super Saiyans, implying that jerks like Vegeta couldn’t do it. It was also a big deal because it was assumed up to that point that the androids might just be unbeatable, and Vegeta clobbered one of them in a single episode.

But that episode didn’t make the list, because this one is far more important. Here, Vegeta tries to press his luck by challenging the even stronger Android 18, even though everyone else tries to tell him this is a terrible idea. What follows is one of the coolest fights in the series, and the best classic Dragon Ball battle to feature a woman. For a while it looks pretty even, but then 18 reveals she was hustling Vegeta the whole time, and defeats him with no trouble at all.

Why is this such a big moment? For one thing, it’s the next step in deconstructing the Super Saiyan Legend. Vegeta had already proven that you don’t have to be a good person to turn into a Super Saiyan, and that it’s not just a once-in-a-millennium thing. Here, he proves that Super Saiyans aren’t as invincible as he liked to believe. We’d already seen Goku lose to Android 19, but he was sick at the time. Trunks was no match for he androids in his own timeline, but those battles had happened off-screen. This is a much more visceral demonstration. You’ve got the Saiyan Prince, in perfect health, fresh as a daisy, comfortably transformed, and it doesn’t do him a damn bit of good. 18 breaks his arm like it’s not even hard.

For Vegeta, this was a big deal, because it finally cemented the fact that there is no finish line. From his first appearance, he seemed convinced that he could become the supreme being in his universe, simply by killing Frieza, becoming immortal, or transforming into a Super Saiyan. Here, he thinks he’s finally pulled it off, only to lose even more decisively than ever before.

7. Dragon Ball Episode 99

I debated whether to go with this one or Episode 101, where Tien finally beats Goku to win the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai, but I think this episode deserves the nod. The Goku/Tien championship bout spanned several episodes, but this is the one where Tien finally decides that he’d rather win the title than avenge Tao Pai Pai.

Let me back up a bit here. Goku (seemingly) killed Tao in a prior episode, and Tao was the brother of the Crane Hermit, Tien’s master. So going into this fight, Tien was planning to defeat Goku, win the championship, and then kill Goku in front of the live audience, just to get that extra bit of revenge. But once the fight actually got rolling, Tien began to develop a begrudging respect for Goku’s talent, and then this episode happens, where Tien starts winning, and Goku accuses him of cheating. Tien doesn’t know what he’s talking about at first, until he realizes that the Crane Hermit is using Chiaotzu’s psychic powers to paralyze Goku at key moments.

Once he figures it out, he tells them to stop, since he wants to prove his own superiority, but Crane just wants Goku to die, title or no title. He orders Tien to stop clowning and kill Goku at once, but Tien refuses, and turns his back on the life of an assassin. Chiaotzu does the same, since he was enjoying the match before all the interference started. Crane flips out, but Roshi Kamehameha’s him out of the stadium, allowing Tien and Goku to finally fight without any outside interference.

Tien’s first order of business is to let Goku have a bunch of free shots, in order to make up for all the hits Tien got in while Chiaotzu was cheating. Then he grows four arms, because he still wants to kick Goku’s ass, even if he doesn’t hate him anymore.

Tien’s reform isn’t unique in the series, but I think his particular transformation is very neatly accomplished, inside this one episode, during a single epic battle. Like so many other characters, he figures out that revenge, power, and bloodlust are hollow pursuits compared to the thrill of pushing your own limits through the sacred art of gonzo anime violence. Being a bad guy isn’t just morally shameful, it’s downright boring. Piccolo and Vegeta would eventually learn the same lesson, but it never gets spelled out quite as eloquently as it does in this episode. Also, Launch tries to kill Chiaotzu with a giant cartoon mallet.

6. Dragon Ball Episode 147

On the other hand, you’ve got this episode from the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, where Piccolo doesn’t learn a damned thing, except how to take an epic beating.

This episode is just wall-to-wall nuts. Piccolo blows up the entire city where the tournament is being held, and that’s just for openers. Tien uses his Ki-ko-ho to make a foxhole for the others to hide in, and Launch kicks Kami into it when he doesn’t jump in right away.

Piccolo’s city-busting blast was intended to finish off Goku, but it doesn’t even scratch the lovable bastard, and it just gives Goku and opening to pound the ever-loving crap out of Big Green. Goku just goes sickhouse on him, in one of the most satisfying and well-animated sequences in the whole series. And to add insult to injury, he continues to play by the tournament rules. Once he has Piccolo laid out where the ring used to be, he asks for a ten count.

And that turns out to be a huge mistake, as Piccolo has enough juice left to zap him with a mouth blast at the last second. The attack leaves a baseball-sized hole in Goku’s pec, and Piccolo just starts stomping on the wound. Worse, he’s still strong enough that no one else can come to Goku’s rescue.

And then, just when Goku looks to be finished, he gets back up anyway, still looking to win this battle. Is he overconfident or just stupid? Neither actually, as he has the whole fight under control, as the next episode reveals.

5. Dragon Ball Z Episode 281

Oh mannnn, this episode ruuuules. One of my pet peeves with this fandom is people crapping on the Buu Saga, simply for coming at the tail end of this franchise. It’s bullshit, just like how Star Wars purists act like Empire Strikes Back is the best movie ever made and Return of the Jedi is a cinematic bowel movement. They’re both good, you just lost interest before the series ended.

The Buu arc isn’t my favorite, but it’s balls-to-the-wall awesome, and when I was making this list I had a hard time picking a favorite episode from the Kid Buu fight. It’s just such a beautiful battle, packed with story and character development. I can’t blame viewers for getting burnt out on Dragon Ball if they watched the preceding 433 episodes first, but to say these episodes are bad is just flat-out wrong.

Anyway, I went with 281, which features the tail end of Goku’s solo effort against Kid Buu. Vegeta steps into give Goku a pep talk, and Goku admits that he can’t gather enough power to blow Buu away. To do that, he’ll need a full minute to charge his ki, and Vegeta offers to buy him that minute, even though he’s weaker than Goku and doesn’t stand a chance against Buu by himself.

What follows is a solid ten minutes of Vegeta getting clobbered, but he keeps getting back up and forcing himself to find new ways to play for time. He doesn’t try to beat Buu, because he knows he can’t. Instead, he keeps him busy, and psyches him out so he won’t bother Goku while he charges up.

What makes this work is that it’s the counterpoint to Episode 133, seen earlier on this list. Then, Vegeta thought his Super Saiyan form made him a guaranteed winner. Now, he’s using Super Saiyan 2 in a desperate bid to just hold the line until an even stronger fighter can make his own last-ditch effort to win. Vegeta’s fighting for a chance at victory, and it’s a slim chance at that. One of my favorite things about this episode is how tragic it is. By Episode 282, it becomes clear that Goku’s plan was never going to work, so Vegeta’s efforts were in vain. But he doesn’t seem to mind much, because at least he got to throw down against Kid Buu and see exactly how long he could hold out.

4. Dragon Ball Z Episode 184

This is the one where Gohan finally snaps and turns into a Super Saiyan 2, but when you put it like that, it seems so pedestrian.

From his first appearance in Episode 1 of DBZ, Gohan was shown to have hidden potential, which was gradually brought out over the course of the series. By the time the Cell Games rolled around, it was sort of implied that he had finally realized that full potential. Goku trained him to be a Super Saiyan like himself, and how much higher could he possibly get than that?

But Goku’s secret plan was for Gohan to fight Cell, and if he got in a pinch, Gohan would then tap into the same hidden potential he used to turn the tables on the Saiyans and Frieza. Goku’s theory was that if he trained Gohan to be a Super Saiyan, then any power boost Gohan experienced during the fight would rachet him up to an even higher level never seen before.

This suited Cell just fine, so he pooped out an army of mini-Cells to torture the Z-Fighters until Gohan’s rage pushed him into this higher level. And that’s what this episode is all about, except it doesn’t really work. The Cell Juniors clobber the heroes from pillar to post, but Gohan doesn’t change, and he doesn’t know how to make himself change. Then Android 16 has an idea to talk him through it, and he convinces Mr. Satan to toss his severed head over to Gohan to he can make his speech. Cell stomps on 16′s head in an impulsive act of cruelty, and then then “Unmei no Hi - Tmasahii Vs. Tamashii” starts playing.

This is a huge moment in the series, not only because of the advent of Super Saiyan 2 and the turning of the tide in the Cell Games, but also because it marks the fufillment of the promise of Gohan’s character. We all knew he would become something great, and now it finally comes into focus.

But this episode also gets high marks for how all the other characters are handled. Goku’s “foolproof” plan collapses, and he’s forced to apologize while they all get beaten down; Android 16 sacrifices himself after already losing his body; Mr. Satan does what little he can, proving that he’s more than just a gloryhound; and Cell seems to have second thoughts once he finally gets a glimpse at Gohan’s hidden power.

3. Dragon Ball Z Episode 94

Maybe it would make more sense to pick the episode where Goku turns Super Saiyan for the first time, but I think the false-finish that precedes it deserves the spot. I’ll try to explain.

There’s really three things going on in this one. First, Goku’s trying to assemble a Spirit Bomb powerful enough to kill Frieza. In the previous episode, Frieza finally noticed what he was up to, and he decided to kill Goku before he could use the bomb. But the bomb still isn’t big enough, so Goku needs more time.

Second, Piccolo has jumped in to keep Frieza busy long enough for Goku to get the time he needs. Much of this episode is Frieza beating up on a defenseless Piccolo, and then Krillin and Gohan jump in too. It’s just awesome seeing all these guys throw everything they can into this effort.

Third, there’s a filler subplot featuring the dead Z-Fighters on King Kai’s planet fighting the dead Ginyu Force members. It’s goofy, and kind of inconsequential, but it’s fun. I just like seeing the whole gang getting to worth together in the same episode.

So when Goku finally deploys the Spirit Bomb and Frieza finds himself overwhelmed, it really feels like a team effort. King Kai reports that Frieza’s been beaten, and this inspires Yamcha and the others to put the Ginyus away for keeps. On Namek, only Krillin and Gohan are left standing after the Spirit Bomb explodes, and they wonder if Goku and Piccolo could have survived.

I won’t sugar-coat it, a lot of DBZ episodes go pretty light on plot points. So when you get one like this, with so many things going on all at once, and so many characters joining in, and so much suspense and drama, it really clicks. This would have been a brilliant finale to the Frieza Saga, and the icing on the cake is that it’s all for naught. Frieza’s fine in the next episode, which is all-the-more frustrating because of how satisfying this episode was.

2. Dragon Ball Z Episode 179

Huh, I got a lot of Androids/Cell episodes on this list. It’s almost like the Androids/Cell arc is the best one and it rules over all. Nah, that can’t be it.

This is the high-water mark of the Goku/Cell fight, which the whole series had been building to since Cell was first introduced some thirty-odd episodes earlier. Here’s the new big-bad final boss, the next Frieza, essentially, so naturally it’s going to be up to Goku to put him down in a 19-episode brawl. Only that’s not what happens. Goku goes into the Cell Games admitting that he’s no match for Cell, but he wants to fight the guy anyway. No one understands what he’s planning, but he seems pretty upbeat for a guy who expects to lose.

The fight itself only goes four episodes. The first is a feeling-out process, the second is mostly Cell showboating, but in this third episode, they really go at it. The animation is beautifully handled by Keisuke Masunaga. He’d supervised a handful of episodes before this, but this one is the first action-heavy episode, truly serving as a demonstration of what he could do.

Plotwise, there isn’t a whole lot to say. The battle goes pretty evenly here, and the main appeal is that all the other characters are still trying to figure out what Goku’s strategy is. He said he couldn’t win, and yet he’s hanging in there with Cell, so what’s the deal? You might think Goku’s aiming to win on a technicality, using Cell’s own rules against him, except Cell enjoys the fight so much that he blows up his own ring to prevent any chance of an out-of-bounds finish. From here, the Cell Games can only end by surrender or death.

So then Goku goes up into the air and tries a Kamehameha, similar to the one Cell used earlier in the battle. Cell thinks it’s a bluff, since he knows he can dodge it, and from that steep an angle, Goku would just end up hitting the Earth and destroying it. But Goku doesn’t blink, and just when Cell isn’t sure what’s going to happen, Goku teleports right in front of him and unloads the Kamehameha into his face at pointblank range.

It’s another false finish. Cell survives, but he has to grow back his head and arms first. But for a moment, it looks like this was Goku’s big plan. He knew he couldn’t outpower Cell, so he out-finessed him by using the Instant Transmission to get past his guard. And you know, if the ring hadn’t been destroyed, maybe this would have worked. Goku could have tossed Cell’s decaptitated body out of bounds and Cell would have regenerated to find himself outside the ring. I always wonder what he would have done in that scenario. I mean, Cell’s kind of a sore loser, but he seems to respect clever ploys, and the tournament was his idea.

Anyway, Cell rules, this episode is wall-to-wall action, and the Warp Kamehameha is the best move in Budokai 2.

1. Dragon Ball Z Episode 31

Personally, I find the Saiyans Saga to be slightly overrated, but dammit, this episode has just about everything. I’d go so far as to say that when people praise the Saiyans Saga, they’re really only thinking back to this one episode, or maybe five of the best episodes that include this one.

Here’s the deal: Vegeta has invaded Earth and all of the Z-Fighters are dead or badly hurt. Only Goku is left to stop this guy, and he’s armed with the Kai-o-ken technique, a power multiplier as effective as it is risky. King Kai warned Goku never to go beyond a double Kai-o-ken, because anything more than that could cripple his own body. But he tried that in the previous episode, and Vegeta laughed it off. So in this episode, Goku reluctantly goes for a Kai-o-ken times three.

And for a few glorious minutes, Vegeta gets completely wrecked. Goku just picks him apart with hit after hit after hit. It’s enough to humble Vegeta and it’s enough to draw blood, but it doesn’t actually put the guy down. Instead, Vegeta becomes so outraged that he flips out and tries to destroy the entire planet with his finisher, the Galick Gun. This leaves no choice for Goku to keep using the Kai-o-ken times three, and he’s gotta fire a Kamehameha to block Vegeta’s shot.

And when that turns out to be too weak to push back Vegeta’s attack, Goku is forced to turn it up even higher and use a four times Kai-o-ken. So now we’re beyond anything King Kai had imagined when he taught him the technique. It works, and Goku manages to shoot Vegeta into space, but his body is terribly banged up from the effort.

Which is a real shame, because Vegeta manages to save himself from being blasted into space, and he’s still got enough juice to pull his own trump card: turning into a giant ape! Saiyans need a full moon to do this, and Piccolo helpfully destroyed the moon before Vegteta’s arrival, but that doesn’t matter, because Vegeta can make his own artificial moonlight with a special ki technique! So the episode ends with an exhausted Goku staring at a hundred-foot tall Vegeta-ape.

And hopefully I’ve made my point. You’ve got three big BIG moments in the series here. Goku’s Kai-o-ken X3 offensive against Vegeta was what made their rivalry. Before that, Vegeta never came close to sweating Goku, and afterward, every time Vegeta thought back on their battle, this was the part he remembered. The Galick Gun/Kamehameha beam struggle was an iconic moment all by itself, and it’s the standard by which all other beam struggles are judged. And then you’ve got Vegeta using the fake moon trick and turning into a giant ape, setting the stage for the final leg of the battle. Any one of these things would earn a spot on this list, but DBZ #31 has all three. It’s gotta take the top spot. It’s just gotta.

There’s a lot of really great episodes I didn’t cover. I’m a big fan of the Pikkon episodes, and the one where 16 fights Cell is a personal fave, and the Vegito episodes are awesome too. But there’s only so much room at the top. I bet I could have a completely different list in a couple years’ time. In conclusion, Dragon Ball fucking rules.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #top ten best episodes #frieza #goku #piccolo #trunks #vegeta #cell #perfect cell #gohan #majin buu #tien #android 18 #commander red #staff officer black

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