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#I would like to formally apologize for not being on Discord very much lately--I still love you guys. <3
chazukekani · 3 years
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SPOILER ALERT 
Here is the quick summary of the first 60 pages of Stormbringer that just revealed today. 
Special thanks to Nika, Amir, and my discord server members for proof-reading!
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— That is, the 169th possibility
— ‘You are late, my brother.’
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Content
Prologue
Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers
Code 02: Dead people do not possess any form of emotion
Code 03: I want to observe Chuuya’s suffer as a human
Code 04: Grantors of disgrace, you need not wake me again
Epilogue
Afterthought
Harukawa Sango ‘Stormbringer’ Character Setting Gallery
-
Pre-prologue
Fate whispers to warriors,
‘You cannot go against the storm.’
Warriors whisper back
‘I am the storm.’
— Cao Zhi ‘Luo Shen Fu’
-
Prologue
It began in a forest at midnight. It was supposed to be a peaceful night, but suddenly a beam appeared in the forest. It’s a huge fire. The forest was on fire. People who lived in the village nearby ran to the forest to see what happened. It was a wrecked airplane that just fell from the sky. People used hammers to dig the airplane to see whether there are any survivors.
Suddenly, a man walked out from the airplane. He seemed fine, but the crowd was shocked.
‘Apologies for my courtesy. In accordance with civil society, I should introduce myself,’ said the man. He pulled out a badge on his chest. The badge was black and words on it were engraved with silver. One of the teenagers from the village read off the words on it
‘I am a detective from Europole (Europe Detective and Police Organisation), which I am an office equipment. Category number 98F78195, made by ability technician Dr. Wollstonecraft. The first ever humanoid computer that serves for worldwide police facilities. Code name is Adam, Adam Frankenstein. It is my pleasure to meet you. I should carry out my mission now, see you.’
Before Adam left, he asked ‘Do you know a person called Nakahara Chuuya?’
-
Code:01 A programme with 2383 lines, just an idea from a group of researchers 
Chuuya couldn't see his dream. Everytime he woke up, he felt like he was in a swamp of mud. Today, Chuuya woke up in his apartment. Just like other’s morning routine, Chuuya took a shower, cleaned himself and left his home.
Chuuya was 16 years old. Since a year he had joined the mafia, Chuuya excelled in his job with the most outstanding performance, and was well recognised in the organisation.
However with all the money and status he got, Chuuya was not satisfied. The thing that he wanted the most was to know his past. Chuuya knew nothing about it. The earliest memory he had was being kidnapped to a military facility 8 years ago.
There was already a branded black car waiting for Chuuya outside his apartment with a group of men in suits and sunglasses. ‘Please go to the regular store,’ said Chuuya.
Chuuya was in charge of supervising the jewel/gemstone transaction within the Mafia and black market, which had been an important source of income for the mafia.
He arrived at the store. Before entering it, a gun was pointed on Chuuya’s head, while there was another gun pointed onto his chest. Bang! What a big sound. Yet there was no blood, but a bunch of colourful ribbons came off.
‘Congratulations to your 1st year since joining the mafia!’, said those men.
Today was the first anniversary for Chuuya joining the mafia, and his friends held a party for him. People who joined the party all belonged to the ‘young club’ of the mafia, which were all 25 years old or younger.
The party-planner was called ‘Piano Man’. He was called Piano Man not because of his black and white outfit, but his way of killing. He liked using the strings of piano keyboards and strangled people to death. Piano Man was very tall, his fingers were long and thin, and always put a smile on his face. He was by far the man who was closest to the position of the Port Mafia executive.
The second man who came to congratulate Chuuya was called Albatross, a man with golden hair. He was a teen that loved smiling and was very talkative. Albatross was in charge of the transportation aspect of the mafia, and was complimented as very efficient and speedy in completing the missions, and was currently living in the same neighbourhood as Chuuya in a high-ended area. He previously belonged to an organisation called ‘Wheelman’.
Albatross proposed a toasting, but Chuuya was not in a good mood. “Did you have a nightmare?” Albatross joked, but Chuuya turned furious after hearing the word ‘nightmare’. Everyone was horrified. ‘No I wasn’t!’ Chuuya shouted. When Chuuya was about to leave the shop, yet another man came in. He was holding a champagne glass, and on his other hand, he was holding a medical drip stand that had a drip injected into his arm. His name was Doc.
Different from other doctors in the gangster industry, Doc graduated in a Northern American university and was awarded with a Doctorate formally. Doctors were highly demanded within the mafia because members could not simply walk into regular hospitals with injuries that were caused by gunshots. Doctors in the PM were treated nicely and respected, thanks to the boss, Mori-san, who was also a former doctor. The reason why Doc became a doctor was because he wanted to get closer to God. ‘The more lives you save, the closer you get to God’ is the motto of Doc. The Bible once wrote that God saved two million lives, so Doc’s goal was to save a similar number of people, which was why he joined the Mafia.
Chuuya still wanted to leave.
“The first year was the toughest, so we need to celebrate that you got through it,’ a gentle voice said. It was a man who had an extraordinarily beautiful appearance. The first year of joining the Mafia was the so-called ‘Deadman Curve’, so a celebration is needed,” said Lippmann, the guy with a pretty face. The work of Lippmann was probably the most unique one out of all of them. He was in charge of the public relations of the Mafia, such as negotiating deals with enterprises, or having meetings with the government. It is more difficult to kill him than killing the Boss of the Mafia because Lippmann was also a famous actor, thus every single action he made would be reported by the media. Hence it was really difficult to get him.
Another man came in, and his name was Ice Man. Unlike Chuuya’s other friends, he was quiet, and wore a simple outfit. Ice Man did not show much emotion, and was low profile. His job was simple, to kill. He did not use an ability, guns or knives to kill. Instead, he used objects that were nearby to kill. Anything, regardless if it’s a pen, wine bottle or the wire of light bulbs could become a murdering tool, hence Ice Man could kill anywhere.
The gathering continued. Chuuya was gradually having a better mood, until Ice Man asked Chuuya ‘where were you born?’ Chuuya immediately grabbed Ice Man’s shirt, and there was such a tension among the guys. Piano Man then revealed that he knew why Chuuya was mad, because Mori told him about Chuuya’s past that he was just an artificial ability experiment that was created by the military. Hence Mori asked Piano Man to invite Chuuya into the younger’s club, in order to have a surveillance on Chuuya. Piano Man pointed out the reason why Chuuya was mad today because he was actually not able to dream. Suddenly, the tension was back. Everyone had their weapons already, but Piano Man took out a present for the 1st anniversary from his coat, and gave it to Chuuya.
It was a photograph, a picture of two people, and one of them was five year old Chuuya.
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The picture was taken in an old village in the Western region, Piano Man said. The area was abandoned afterwards but Doc found this picture inside the medical record of the village. Lippmann then added that he had asked a woman to check all the military-related databases, in which she found out that the military once held a recruitment experiment in the Western region. Still, Chuuya’s friends were able to find the family tree of Chuuya, his school, his report card and his birth record. However, such an investigation must not be known to Mori because Mori thought that if Chuuya’s background remained a secret, Chuuya would not betray the Mafia.
Chuuya did not understand why his friends did this for him. Lippmann said because they were companions. He then proposed why not they name the younger’s club as ‘Flags’.
The Flags then went to a billiards bar. All of a sudden, apart from the six people playing the billiards, there was the seventh person who joined the game. He had long arms and legs, and of course very tall. Black hair with brown eyes, and was standing by the table seriously.
All of a sudden, Albatross used his Kulric knife and sliced on the seventh person's head, which produced an uncomfortable noise. Yet, that person escaped from the attack. A fight then broke out because the Flags thought this seventh person was an ability user, and suspected his intention for coming to the Mafia’s facility. However, Ice Man pointed out that this person was not an ability user, but the fight continued.
During the fight, Adam grabbed the legs of the table, and something grew from his hand. It was a small-scale dinosaur, that grew from Adam’s hands as if it were a plant. The battle was intense. Someone shouted Chuuya’s name out of nowhere, and Adam noticed something.
‘Chuuya-san’, Adam greeted Chuuya politely.
‘I am here to protect you,’ Adam replied. Adam introduced himself, and explained his mission. Adam was sent here to arrest an assassin called Paul Verlaine.
When Chuuya heard the name Verlaine, his facial expression changed.
‘Why do you know this name?’ asked Chuuya
‘Chuuya-san, you cannot defeat Verlaine on your own. That’s why I am here. Verlaine was not only an assassin. He is the king of assassins. He is your brother.’ said Adam.
The misconception was relieved, and the Flags, together with Adam, played billiards happily afterwards.
-
The story continues on 27th Feb
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starcloud-nova · 3 years
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Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?
God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.
Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.
Cassia’s fics:
Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)
At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.
hypnic jump
Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.
Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)
Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)
~~~
Kestrel’s fics:
Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)
Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.
All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.
Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.
(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)
triskelion
A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.
While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.
Permanently.
Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.
the meaning of hope
One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.
~~~
Lilly’s fics:
Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly
“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”
The boy blinks. “The what?”
Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.
Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅
The Root to Villainy
Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.
Whoops?
~~~
Dance’s fics:
Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen
“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.
“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.
Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.
 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.
grow as we go
The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.
They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.
She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.
“I’m not ready.”
 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.
~~~
Azure’s fics:
A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy
Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.
Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.
Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.
Not that he's aware of it, of course.
A Missed Chance
Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.
But this isn’t that universe.
Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?
~~~
Alice’s fics:
A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)
“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.
Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.
But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.
~~~
Ely’s fics:
bend and break by @queenangst (x)
In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.
draw and quarter
In District Twelve, no one volunteers.
When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.
He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.
Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.
damage control
After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.
Between the Wind and the Water
Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.
It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.
a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)
Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]
"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."
Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.
For the two of them, it's an opportunity.
A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.
of the mighty heart
It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.
...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.
After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.
And then there's Kacchan.
~~~
Fawn’s fics:
Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)
In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.
Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)
It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.
~~~
Nez’s fics:
The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)
Toshinori is caught in a time loop.
~~~
Aodh’s fics:
new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)
Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,
Izuku tenses, this is-
This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-
The Nomu.
One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.
Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.
~~~
Ghost’s fics:
fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)
There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.
Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.
“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“Precisely.”
Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.
The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.
As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.
~~~
Amira��s fics:
And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)
AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON
AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 
Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.
Enter HeroCon:X.
A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.
The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel
“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”
Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.
Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“
That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.
“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”
~~~
Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!
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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years
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Since the exchange reveal was today, I can finally cross-post this here.
“A Working Relationship” Sci-Fi AU, Artificial Intelligence, Secret Histories, Intrigue, Finding Your Place (and getting a crush on your android boss)
__________
“I don’t care how smart he is, you’re not putting a Jin on this ship!”
His first reaction is a flush of anger. The second is a barely-smothered explosion of laughter.
In all the insults he’d borne over his parentage in his lifetime, this had to be the first time in… well… ever that it was his father’s side being disparaged.
But when he peeks around the corner and sees who’s arguing with the Admiral, he immediately understands why.
The speaker is a perso-core droid.
Meng Yao has no illusions about the treatment of the droids custom-ordered by the ports his father owns. He’s even met some of them, when they came to drop off another meagre payment to his mother. Delicate, beautiful dolls designed for little more than to be stared at… or played with.
Easily broken, and just as easily replaced.
His still healing ribs give a throb. He can relate to the feeling.
He can use it, too, he realizes, a plan coming together in the back of his mind as he watches the pair bicker.
“Excuse me.”
They both turn at the sound of his voice, and the droid’s eyes narrow, photoreceptors and the light patterns decorating his body briefly shading closer to red than their usual pale green. He’s reasonably sure that if that long dark hair and silver skin weren’t synthetic, he’d be bristling like an offended Firenian Raptor Cat.
It’s an uncomfortably attractive look.
He immediately squashes that thought, then bows, carefully emphasizing the stiff discomfort of the motion. “I apologize for causing any discord. It’s true that my father is Jin Guangshan, but I have no association with the company, nor the ports that it owns.”
“You approached him for work two stationary cycles ago,” the droid says, voice tinged with suspicion.
He had been made aware his background had been searched from the moment he’d been identified as a Jin, however, so he is ready for that. “My late mother desperately wished for me to join the family business. His, of course, not hers. But visiting him has proven to be a mistake. It’s clear now that my father has a very similar opinion of his illegitimate children as he does his droids.”
He opens one of the side panels of his flight suit to show off the bruises that still prominently mottle his skin despite two visits to a medical ward he could afford.
It’s the briefest flicker-flash, a barest twitch of synthetic musculature that most people wouldn’t notice on a human, much less a droid. But the reaction is there, and he can feel the emotional shift in the air as the droid and the Admiral look at each other, the argument between them now silent instead of snapped.
After a few moments that surely feel longer than they actually are, the droid makes a noise that would have been a huff from anyone with lungs and turns away. “One full planetary rotation,” he grumbles, then stalks away down the hall.
If the droid means the planet they’re currently in orbit over, that’s thirty days by the timers in the ports. “Is that to be my entire billet?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to let it sound like a complaint.
Admiral Nie shakes his head. “Probationary period. If Sang-er declares you a fit for Baxia’s crew by then, we’ll re-draw your contract for a more formal position.”
“You value his opinion very highly,” Meng Yao says, careful to keep his tone neutral, lest the Admiral think he’s probing.
Which he is, but-
“As well I should. He's been serving with our ships since before I was born, after all; he knows the fleets inside and out down to the last fastening and half-byte of data."
Something about the way the Admiral says that lingers in the back of his mind even as he’s herded down to the ship’s infirmary to have his ribs properly treated. It’s hardly uncommon for the owners of a particularly well-made droid to brag about them, but to his ear it sounds… odd.  
Less like an owner pleased with his possession and more like a younger brother proud of his elder.
He’s finished settling into his cabin, what few things he owns unpacked and stowed away, when something twigs in his brain.
Sang-er.
It couldn’t possibly be what he’s thinking… could it?
---
The first week of Meng Yao’s temporary new job starts with a surprise and ends with a realization.
Given his prior experiences with employers and Sang-er’s clear dislike of him, he braces himself for the bottom of the heap and jobs like cleaning over-boiled acid out of engine cells. Instead, Sang-er puts him through a mentally grueling -and yet actually somewhat satisfying- examination of his skills, then unceremoniously shoves him straight into financial work.
Tracking numbers and allocating data has always been something he could do in his sleep if he so wished; though he doesn’t exactly let his mind wander, the tasks are easy enough that they allow him space to observe.
He wasn’t wrong, he decides, in pegging the relationship between his human boss and his mechanical one as being something akin to siblings.
Which really only lends further credence to the theory his other observations are steadily building.
Observations like how Sang-er is simply too advanced for a perso-core droid. He sifts and sorts information, skimming star maps and calculating alterations via hard-light illusions generated from his own body, and does it all with a speed and ease that should have overtaxed him a hundred times over. Small-droid cores simply aren’t designed to hold or process that much information that fast.
But a ship’s core, on the other hand…
When he’d been small, a friend of his mother’s had dreamed of one day leaving and joining the Qinghe fleets, drawn by the near legendary status of Nie Zhuyun and her ship Huaisang. A captain so sharp and daring and a ship so clever and nimble that people claimed she had somehow bonded her mind to the core to make them a perfect symbiosis.
How many of the tales his mother’s friend told were true were arguable, but what had been true was that when the Wen Chancellor had finally succeeded in his near singleminded obsession to have the ship destroyed, its core had never been found in the wreckage.
Nie Mingjue had said that Sang-er had been serving the fleet since before his birth, but that didn’t mean it had always been in the same body.
And then there is the second most important observation: Sang-er never leaves Baxia.
He’d been unsure about that one at first. Even though they are docked, most of the crew remain onboard a good portion of the time. But after a few days of watching, it has become clear that while even the Admiral occasionally goes out into the port for one bit of business or another, Sang-er stays on board at all times, sometimes with some gentle but pointed reminding on the Admiral’s part.
As if the droid is being purposely kept hidden.
And he can guess from whom. His father has a very good business relationship with Wen Ruohan; even though the ship is docked in a port that isn’t directly owned by the Jin family, there’s a fairly large presence of both Jin and Wen contingents. If he’s right, and Sang-er really is a reconstruction of Huaisang’s core-
He stiffens, then reaches out to stop the flow of numbers he’d been monitoring.
When he had gone to that first medical ward… there had been…
He closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out slowly.
"There a problem?" a nearby officer asks.
"No, sir. Just needed a moment for the eyes," Meng Yao says, and then gets back to work.
---
His thoughts nag at him for the rest of the designated day hours and follow him into his bed that night. They’re still plucking at his nerves the next morning, annoying him enough that he barely touches the breakfast he would have gladly stolen -maybe even committed violence to get- from a rich man’s table not too long ago.
If he's right, then he has inadvertently picked up some information that would be extremely valuable to the Admiral and Sang-er.
But to use that information, he will have to do something he absolutely despises.
Tell everything.
There is no safety in full disclosure. Keeping things close to his chest had been the only way he’d survived the arduous journey between the port he’d grown up in and the central hub where his father resides.
But Sang-er has already proven very capable when it comes to checking up on those he does not trust. If he withholds anything that he overheard, and Sang-er finds out he’d done so, then being ousted from the ship is probably the best thing he could expect.
And… he... likes it here.
It’s hard to admit that, even just in his own mind. He’s only been employed on Baxia for a week.
And yet something in his heart just settles at the idea of staying here in a way he can’t remember feeling in years. The Admiral checks up on his wellbeing. His other crewmates treat him as his station befits. He’s comfortable in the jobs he’s been assigned. Even Sang-er -for all the droid’s aversion to him- judges his work fairly and takes his opinions into genuine consideration. Comparing the crew he’s found himself with to the tittering sycophants who’d taken such glee in watching his father reject him-
He bites his tongue to stop the flow of bitterness before it becomes overwhelming and clouds his thoughts.
The point is that, for the first time in a very long time, he has found himself a place he does not want to give up.
If that means having to lay all his cards on the table, then… then fine.
He reaches a point in his tasks that he can safely pause for lunch, but instead of going down to the dining hall, he goes looking for Sang-er.
---
After more than a little unsure wandering and some eventual directions from a couple of helpful crewmates, Meng Yao finds the droid in question in one of the small-ship hangars, surrounded by a star map and several of their scout pilots.
For a moment, his breath catches in his throat.
In the dim lighting of the hangar, Sang-er's eyes and the geometric designs decorating his form glow brighter, mingling with the reflective light of the illusory stars against silvery skin. With one fingertip, he draws flight paths and points of interest, directing models of their ships less like he is ordering soldiers and more as if he is conducting dancers.
It’s hard not to stare, and in that moment he understands better some of the particulars of the information he’s about to relay.
Drawing up his nerve, he straightens his back and approaches the knot of people just in time for the lights to come back up and the star map to vanish into the palm of Sang-er’s hand. A couple of the younger scouts wave to him, drawing the droid’s attention in his direction.
“Please excuse me if I’m interrupting anything, but may we speak in private?” he asks quickly, before any potential judgements can be made.
Sang-er regards him silently, expression completely neutral, then tilts his head in acquiescence. “You’ve all got your assignments,” he says to the scouts. “See you in fourteen days.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Follow me,” Sang-er says as he turns on his heel, and Meng Yao obeys.
Their destination turns out to be the hangar manager’s office, or what would have been the hangar manager’s office if they didn’t have Sang-er. The doors close behind them with a swish and click, but Meng Yao barely hears it over his own heartbeat.
He swallows hard as he watches the droid lean against the desk.
Okay.
All cards on the table.
"Wen Ruohan knows that you're Huaisang."
Sang-er doesn’t flinch or stiffen or show any other reaction that would give away a human but, like their first meeting, Meng Yao feels the subtle shift around them. "Interesting. And you've come to this conclusion because…?"
It’s not an outright denial. No automatic accusations of wild imaginations or delusions or… anything like that. Just a quiet demand to show his work, like the evaluations before. Meng Yao can’t help but find it oddly soothing for this to be treated as nothing more than a basic report despite the severity of what he’s revealing.
“There’s a specific medical ward in the district of Koi Port that most of the residents pretend doesn’t exist. At the time I was… dismissed, it was the only one I could afford to visit. One of the other patients there was complaining that a job for the Wens had been taken from him and handed over to shifters employed by the Jins.”
That gets a visible reaction as Sang-er’s hands clench on the edge of the desk he’s leaning on.
It’s an entirely understandable response. Shifters are the worst of the worst when it comes to orchestrating and carrying out the theft of high-end droids, and their services don’t come cheap at all. For someone like Wen Ruohan, who already has so much power of his own, to enlist them from another company…
Well, the implication is clear.
“Go on,” Sang-er says, and Meng Yao doesn’t fail to notice the tension that’s entered his voice.
“He didn’t specifically describe the target, but he did mention it was aboard the flagship of the Qinghe fleet, and that the backer had ordered it to be captured fully intact, or else. No offense to any of the other droids here, but there’s no one other than you who could possibly garner that kind of demand. And no other reason why Wen Ruohan would make it.”
“I see.” Sang-er’s expression still hasn’t changed, but the words are decidedly even more clipped. “And what price would a Jin expect for information like this?”
There’s the suspicion that he’s been waiting for.
All cards on the table, Meng Yao reminds himself for what may be the tenth time. Or the twentieth, he admittedly has lost track. If he doesn’t remain honest now, he stands to lose everything.
He allows himself one more nervous swallow before answering. “I don’t know… probably something obscene, honestly. I want to be extended to a full contract.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
Sang-er blinks at him, unable to catch the surprise from flickering across his face quickly enough, though it’s quickly schooled away. “That’s it,” he repeats, arching one eyebrow disbelievingly.
“You’ve already given me nearly everything I was looking for when I originally went to meet my father. I want to keep that,” Meng Yao says. “The rest… I will come to terms with eventually.”
There’s no immediate response, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between them as Sang-er appraises his words and everything else. It’s hard not to squirm under the stare.
Then Sang-er’s expression visibly softens, and the sight nearly knocks the wind out of him, it catches him so off guard .
Oh, that’s just not fair.
He quickly recovers, standing straight as Sang-er pushes himself away from the desk and walks past him.
“Well, come on, then,” the droid says, and he absolutely does not shiver at the new warmth in his voice.
“Where are we going now?”
“To give my recommendation to Mingjue and have you moved to more permanent quarters. And then we will start planning to deal with this new development.”
We will start planning, he says.
Meng Yao finds he very much likes the sound of that.
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mollymawkwrites · 3 years
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My lovely friend @simplymyselff requested Jaskier hitting Geralt with his lute (maybe because he was afraid of him being a ghost) and patching him up because he feels guilty, so this is my attempt at it. Enjoy! CW: minor injury, blood, terminal stupidity from both of the boys.
There is someone in Jaskier’s chambers.
He woke up with a start a minute ago when a crashing noise broke the silence of the late evening. From his bed, he could see the window in the tiny living room of his student lodgings gaping open, the panes gently swaying with the light breeze of the summer night. He’s sure he closed it before going to bed; some drunkards had been belting out sea shanties in the street below and he needed to get some sleep before tomorrow’s exams.
There had been a quick scuffle, and then nothing, but Jaskier can see a large shadow moving in his living room from where he’s pressed against the wall now, his heart beating wildly. The light of the almost full moon bathes the room in an ethereal atmosphere, and the silhouette is moving from one side of his tiny living room to the other, silent. Slowly, it approaches the open door of Jaskier’s bedroom, and all he sees is a flash of white before he grabs the nearest object and swings with all his might towards the tall figure. It might not be of any use against a ghostly apparition, but Julian Alfred Pankratz is not going down without a fight.
There is a splintering of wood, a discordant twang, and a loud and heartfelt “Fuck!” that is definitely not at all ghostly, before Jaskier is thrown against the wall by a strong arm.
The most terrifying man Jaskier has ever met is snarling right to his face, a hand splayed across his chest to keep him still and a blade teasing at his neck. Pale hair form a halo around his head in the moonlight, and a pair of yellow slitted eyes are glaring at Jaskier with rage. Blood is running down the man’s face, dripping down his chin and onto the dark, studded armour cutting quite an impressive figure. It tells a lot about Jaskier that even in the throes of terror, he can’t help but remark how devastatingly handsome the man is.
“Who the fuck are you?” the man growls, and his voice is just as sexy terrifying than the rest of him.
“Who- what- excuse me?” Jaskier sputters, caught off guard by the stupid question. “I live here!”
“Why did you attack me?” The hand against Jaskier’s chest presses harder, and he feels his ribs start to protest against the weight.
“You just broke into my lodgings! I thought you were a ghost!” His voice definitely does not come out in a squeak.
The man’s glare doesn’t abate, but he does release Jaskier and sheathes the wicked-looking knife back into the holster on his hip. Jaskier flinches when he raises a hand, but it is only to prod at the gash on his forehead that is still oozing blood sluggishly. “Ghosts aren’t real.”
“Oh, excuse me for wanting to make sure! You could- you could have been a thief! You could still be a thief! What are you doing in my chambers?”
“Hm. ‘m a Witcher. There’s a spirit in your flat.”
“You just said ghosts weren’t real,” Jaskier definitely squeaks this time.
“Not a ghost. A godling.”
“... a what?”
“A godling. A mischievous spirit, like a lutin. Harmless, though it can play some mean tricks. I was trying to bargain with her to leave the city when she bolted and slipped in your flat. I followed her, but she must have hidden somewhere.”
“Oh gods,” Jaskier moans. “Am I going to be haunted? I really don’t need that, I’m in the middle of my end of term exams…”
“No, she slipped away when you… distracted me. It’s unlikely she’ll be back. I just hope she’ll follow my advice, or she might meet people who are less inclined to let her find a nice forest or swamp to settle.”
“Oh. Well, you shouldn’t break into people’s homes in the middle of the night. Unless it’s really important, I guess.” Jaskier looks down at his hand still clutching his makeshift weapon, and lets out a wail that has the Witcher taking a step back in startled concern. “My lute! I broke my lute!”
The wrecked instrument is nothing more than a pile of kindling, strings and pieces of the body still hanging sadly from the neck.
“I hum… I think I should leave you to it,” the Witcher is looking increasingly uncomfortable as Jaskier falls to his knees and cradles the broken instrument to his chest.
Jaskier raises his head and narrows his eyes at him. “You’re hurt.”
“Yeah. You threw a fucking lute at me.”
“Don’t remind me. You need to tend to that wound. You’re bleeding all over my rug.”
“It’s a head wound. It always bleeds a lot.”
“Well, I’m not gonna risk you fainting from blood loss because I attacked you. Though I had a good reason to.”
“I’m okay. It’ll stop eventually.”
“This is nowhere near reassuring.” Jaskier declares cheerfully as he rises from the floor, broken lute forgotten. “Let me help with it, at least. As an apology.”
The Witcher makes a face like he wants to say no, but Jaskier is already lighting the candles on his desk and unearthing the poorly equipped medical kit he never uses himself, except for pain relief medicine after drinking too much wine.
“Come on, sit down, let me give that a look,” Jaskier ushers his patient towards the bed, and the Witcher looks utterly confused and out of place but complies, sitting with his hands on his lap and his hunched shoulders failing to make him look smaller than he is.
Silence falls upon them as Jaskier cleans the wound with unpracticed but careful movements, and he becomes increasingly aware of the level of closeness their position demands. Jaskier is standing between the Witcher’s open legs, one hand cradling the man’s head while the other dabs a wet cloth over his bloody hairline. The student finds himself blushing furiously, thankful that the other man is oblivious to his current predicament, staring right ahead of himself, which happens to be the open collar of Jaskier’s light nightgown.
“I’m sorry,” the Witcher says as Jaskier turns to trade the bloodied cloth for the little jar of balm he uses when he cuts himself with snapping lute strings. He looks back at the Witcher in surprise, but the man keeps his gaze down as he answers Jaskier’s silent question. “For your lute. I’m sorry it’s broken. I can pay for a new one.”
A wave of fondness for the weird man leaves Jaskier rather breathless. He hides it behind a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s okay, really. I got it in a game of Gwent last year. At least it wasn’t my lucky lute, and it never made a great sound anyway.”
“How many lutes do you own?” The Witcher asks with an arched eyebrow, raising his head to meet Jaskier’s eyes for the first time since he sat down, which causes the student to smear balm all across the man’s forehead.
“Let me think… there’s the one I use for classes, the fancy one for formal events, the one I take for gigs in taverns… my first lute, which is also my lucky lute… that’s four. Five, if you count the one I’m still mourning.”
“Why the fuck do you need so many lutes.”
“So I don’t find myself without one when I use them as weapons against thick-headed Witchers,” Jaskier deadpans. “Can you imagine a bard without an instrument? That’d be utterly ridiculous. Why the fuck do you need two swords?”
“Some monsters require silver. Others require steel.”
“Hm,” Jaskier hums thoughtfully as he applies the last of the balm to the already healing gash. “Well, yes, I guess that makes sense.”
He steps away to clean his hands in the little basin he keeps on the vanity in his bedroom, and immediately misses the warmth the man radiates. When he turns back, drying his hands on his own nightgown, he finds the Witcher standing in the middle of the room, looking unsure as to what to do now. Jaskier wishes he had an excuse to keep the man from leaving.
“Well, my friend, I think you’ll survive this terrible wound,” he says instead, stepping closer and patting the man’s breastplate awkwardly.
The Witcher hums, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, and he raises his own hand to trap Jaskier’s against his chest. “What would I have done without you. My hero.” His voice drips with sarcasm, but it has Jaskier’s heart beating wildly beneath his ribcage. After a slightly too long silence, the Witcher steps away, back into the living room where the window is still letting in the warm summer breeze. “Maybe… I mean, we could…” The man pauses, a frustrated crease to his brow as he tries to find the right words. “I might come back. To check on you. Make sure the godling hasn’t come back to… haunt you.” He finishes with uncertainty, then curses under his breath. Once again, fondness seizes Jaskier’s heart, and he smiles softly in the darkness of his living room.
“I would love that.”
The man’s shoulders sag with relief, and he turns towards the window, swinging a leg over the ledge. It’s all very romantic, Jaskier thinks. Like one of those books Priscilla likes to say are terribly cliché. He quite likes it, though. “Wait!” He calls before the man jumps from his window. The Witcher turns to look at him, his eyes reflecting the light of the moon, and Jaskier finds himself breathless for the second… no, third time in the evening. “What’s your name?”
“Geralt,” the man offers after a second.
“Well,” Jaskier scrambles for something to say, trying to stretch the surreal moment as much as possible. “Use the door next time, Geralt.”
This has Geralt smiling for real this time. It’s more of a smirk, to be honest. But it suits him nonetheless. “I will,” he says, and jumps, disappearing from Jaskier’s life as quickly as he stumbled into it.
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ibijau · 3 years
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Xisang Week Day 3:  Shifter / Royalty / Fairy Tale
the leopard was mostly traced because animals? Not really my thing :D
I’m dedicating this one in particular to the Xisang discord, since the snow leopard shifter!Nie is that AU everyone brings back after heavy angst has been discussed XD
Two pairs of eyes watched as Lan Xichen walked away from the house. Nie Huaisang growled in warning so Lan Wangji knew to move away. Disappointed but understanding, his friend left the comfortable position they had found, Lan Wangji laying his head on Nie Huaisang stomach, both of them enjoying the warm sun of early summer on the porch. While Lan Wangji went inside to put away his book, Nie Huaisang yawned and started stretching his whole body with intent until his fur disappeared and his bones returned to their other shape. 
Like this, furless in the morning air, the sun felt less warm. Before Nie Huaisang could start shivering, Lan Wangji returned so they could do like Lan Xichen and head out for breakfast. 
As they walked side by side, an idea that had been bothering Nie Huaisang for a while struck him again. 
“I think gege doesn’t like me,” he sighed.
Lan Wangji shot him a surprised look, but said nothing. He never said much, even if he was really old enough he should have spoken well. He used to do it a bit more, but his mother had died a little before Nie Huaisang’s father, and now he was a really quiet person. 
“Gege never tries to pet me,” Nie Huaisang explained in a tone of self evidence. “Everyone does, but not gege, so he doesn’t like me.”
For being silent, the look Lan Wangji threw him had plenty to say. First, that Nie Huaisang was a little self-centered, because adults never tried to pet him, and at very nearly ten Lan Xichen was obviously almost an adult. Second, that Nie Huaisang didn’t like it when random people tried to touch his snow leopard form without his permission, leading to the two of them often hiding together for hours to avoid the attention since Nie Huaisang had arrived to the Cloud Recesses, a few weeks before. 
“He always frowns when he sees me being a leopard,” Nie Huaisang continued, never one to give up on an idea. “And then he smiles, but it’s not a real smile. He shouldn’t smile so much like that if it’s not real. And also he really, really never tries to pet me and that’s weird and I think he hates me." 
"Brother likes everyone,” Lan Wangji retorted, offended enough by this attack on his brother’s character to let his voice be heard. 
‘People who like everyone often like no one,’ Nie Huaisang’s father told him once, in the days before everything went so wrong. Nie Huaisang had listened and committed that to memory, because back then his father was the strongest and wisest man in the whole entire world. Now though, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Lan Xichen clearly loved his brother a lot, and he looked sad when people mentioned his mother so he must have loved her too. Besides, Nie Huaisang no longer believed his father to be so wise anyway. 
At the end, his father had just turned out to be mean and scary, and then he’d died and that was a relief, even if Nie Huaisang wasn’t supposed to say or even think that. And now Nie Mingjue, busy with getting the sect in order, had sent his brother away to Gusu for safety when Nie Huaisang only wanted to be with him, and that too was their father’s fault.
Everything was their father’s fault. 
“Gege likes everyone except me,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, feeling some tears threatening at the corner of his eyes after making the mistake of thinking of his family. 
It was silly that it bothered him so much whether Lan Xichen liked him or not, and he knew adults would probably have scolded him for it. It was bad of him to bask so much in the attention he received for his other form, to want everyone’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t help it. At home he was nothing special, but since coming to Gusu, everyone treated him like he was extraordinary. 
Everyone except Lan Xichen. 
-
It had been nearly a decade since Nie Huaisang’s first stay in the Cloud Recesses, but the place hadn’t changed much… and neither had he. Certainly the circumstances were different, he was there to study rather than to be protected from the power struggles that followed his father’s death, but everything else was much the same. 
So when another guest student asked whether it was true that members of the Nie clan were cursed, Nie Huaisang quickly turned into his feline form as answer. 
As he had as a young child, Nie Huaisang delighted in the gasps of shock and fear that followed. He was now old enough to understand that none of them could change, though it still puzzled how anyone could live perpetually on two legs. Nie Huaisang pitied them, really, and that was part of why he was always so willing to transform for the entertainment of others, almost an apology for being better than them. 
Mostly though, he enjoyed this rare chance to feel superior. 
After the first moment of fear and horror, the other boys quickly recovered, their emotions turning to wonder and curiosity. 
“Is it really a curse?" 
"Where do your clothes go?" 
"Does it hurt?" 
“Can the curse be transmitted?”
"Can I touch you?" 
The last question was repeated a few times, making Nie Huaisang shiver when they all tried to pet his fur. It always scared him a little how quickly people forgot he was a person, and tried to touch him with a disrespect for boundaries they’d never dare to have when he was human. When he was younger he didn’t mind it so much, but the more he grew, the less he tolerated the touch of strangers. Still, he sat still, his head hung low to give them permission. 
People never liked it when he refused to be pet, and he wanted to be liked so badly. 
Just as the boldest of the other boys dared to bury a hand into the fur of his neck, a voice rang behind them. 
"What is going on here?” Lan Xichen asked. 
On pure instinct, Nie Huaisang dropped on his stomach to show he meant no trouble, looking up at his brother’s friend who seemed upset.
He always seemed upset around Nie Huaisang. 
“Lan gongzi, that’s Nie gongzi !” one boy exclaimed, as if Lan Xichen might not have known that. “Isn’t it amazing? He’s cursed but he was going to let us pet him!" 
If Nie Huaisang had missed the frown on the older boy’s face, the smell of his anger was unmistakable. He made himself lay even flatter on the ground, a little scared he might have gotten in trouble on his very first day there. 
"I am well aware this is Nie gongzi, I recognise him,” Lan Xichen said with a pleasant smile. “I understand you are all new to the Cloud Recesses, but we have rules that must be respected. Unnecessary noise is frowned upon. Besides, it will soon be time for dinner, and you should start heading to the dining halls to make sure you get there on time.”
His voice was calm, gentle even, and he wasn’t that much older than them, but not a single one of them would have dared to object. Such was the effect that Lan Xichen had on people. Even Nie Huaisang quickly returned to his other shape so he could obey, but Lan Xichen stopped him from following the others. 
“You should not use your gift like this,” he mildly scolded. 
Nie Huaisang nodded, because his brother had often told him the same. It was one thing to shift whenever he pleased inside the Unclean Realm, where there were many others like him, but away from home he ought to have been more cautious. 
“I won’t do it again, Lan gongzi,” he mumbled. “I swear, the whole time I’m here I’ll stay human." 
"I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Lan Xichen protested. “It would be cruel of me. But exercise more caution, at least around people who you do not know well.”
“That's…" 
"Just then, you seemed uncomfortable, right?” Lan Xichen asked, a little unsure now. “Or did I misunderstand the situation?" 
Hesitantly, Nie Huaisang nodded again. It surprised him that Lan Xichen could read the body language of his other form. Outside of Qinghe Nie, few people could, unless they had a deep connection to a Nie. But of course, that was the case of Lan Xichen, who was so close to Nie Mingjue, so it shouldn’t have surprised him. 
"You shouldn’t let people touch you if you don’t like it,” Lan Xichen admonished, to which Nie Huaisang could only nod again. Lan Xichen sighed. “Huaisang…" 
Nie Huaisang looked at the other boy, hunching his shoulder as he awaited more reprimand, perhaps even punishment for making trouble already. Lan Xichen no longer seemed angry though. A little disappointed, almost sad, but not angry. Or, well, disappointed for sure. But sad? He had no reason to be sad, so Nie Huaisang had to be misreading that part. 
"Yes, Lan gongzi?" 
Lan Xichen sighed and shook his head. 
"Nothing. We should go too, it wouldn’t do for us to be late to dinner." 
"Yes, Lan gongzi." 
Another sigh, and when Nie Huaisang looked again, Lan Xichen’s expression was definitely somewhat sad. 
"I wouldn’t mind if you used my name,” he said with uncharacteristic hesitation. “You don’t have to be so formal with me. After all, you call my brother by name." 
"Oh but it’s different, Wangji is my friend!” Nie Huaisang protested. “I really could not disrespect you like this!" 
Lan Xichen pinched his lips, and turned away. 
"Let’s just go. We’re really going to be late otherwise." 
He started walking without waiting for Nie Huaisang who could only follow a few steps behind, wondering if he had somehow offended the other boy. 
They made it on time for dinner, but only just. Lan Qiren threw Nie Huaisang an angry glare, as if it were his fault if his perfect nephew had nearly broken a rule. 
Nie Huaisang sighed as he dug into his meatless meal, and promised himself to avoid Lan Xichen in the future. 
-
Classes were a nightmare, and Nie Huaisang was sure he’d have to come back another year.
Meals were a nightmare, and he often had to go secretly hunt at night just to have some meat.
Other students were a nightmare, angry at him whenever he refused to change into his other form to amuse them. 
So far, Nie Huaisang did not much enjoy his time in the Cloud Recesses. 
At least, there was Lan Wangji, whose companionship was still so pleasant after all these years. Even though they had both grown and changed in many ways, in others they were still the same, able to spend endless hours in comfortable silence together. Anyone else needed to beg or threaten to get Nie Huaisang to transform before them these days, but all Lan Wangji needed was a glance and it was a done thing. 
As the weeks passed, Nie Huaisang found himself visiting his friend every chance he had. Whenever it was warm enough, they would be on the porch together, Nie Huaisang laying in the sun in his animal shape, Lan Wangji sitting against him with a book or a piece of music he needed to study. Lan Qiren was never happy to find them like that, but could find nothing in his precious rules to forbid it. Lan Wangji usually just ignored him, obeying rules to the letter and refusing to consider other matters. As for Nie Huaisang, after a shichen spent in that form, he couldn’t care about things as useless as propriety and etiquette.
Everything was so much simpler when he was a snow leopard.
Everything, except Lan Xichen’s disapproval.
At least, Nie Huaisang thought of it as disapproval. Lan Wangji had more than once assured him that his brother bore him no ill-will, even hinting that he thought his friend was the one to bring coldness and distance into their acquaintance, but Nie Huaisang knew better. Lan Xichen always stayed a step or two away from him, especially when he was in his animal form, and he had that look on his face if he saw him playing with others as a leopard in the Cloud Recesses… though he usually had his expression more under control if Nie Huaisang was only with Lan Wangji, so of course his brother wouldn’t have noticed.
It really upset Nie Huaisang that Lan Xichen disliked him like that, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just that Lan Xichen clearly liked Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji so much, who were also Nie Huaisang’s favourite people in the world, and it stung that the affection couldn’t be extended to him.
-
It was almost fall, but the weather was still warm that afternoon, so of course Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji were together on the porch of the house the latter shared with his uncle and brother.
Until then, it had not been a very pleasant day for Nie Huaisang. The results of his last batch of exams had arrived, confirming something he had known for months: he was an idiot, and would need to return the year after to try learning what everyone else had managed in one year. His brother would be furious, just as Lan Qiren had been angry at this stain on his career as a teacher. Well, Nie Huaisang assumed he was angry. He hadn’t said anything, but of course he had to be angry.
At least, in his other shape, those things stopped mattering. As long as he could lay in the sun and enjoy Lan Wangji’s company, Nie Huaisang was a happy snow leopard.
Of course, even that was ruined when Lan Xichen appeared on the path to the house and walked right toward them, carrying a message from his uncle who requested Lan Wangji’s presence. Usually ever obedient, it was clear that Lan Wangji felt somewhat reluctant to leave his friend when he had been crying so much earlier, before taking on his animal form. Still, open rebellion was not in Lan Wangji’s nature and he quickly went, leaving his poor friend in the company of his brother.
Unwilling to annoy Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang forced himself to turn back into a human. It took effort, as it always did when he was upset, but he managed.
“You could have stayed like that,” Lan Xichen said with a hint of a frown. “You’ve had a rough day. Isn’t it easier for Nie people to handle their emotions in their other shape?”
Nie Huaisang felt himself blush at the accusation and looked away. It was true, of course. The instant he’d become human again, the pain of failing his exams so badly had quickly returned, with now the added shame of being told he was too emotional over this. It really was too much. Nie Huaisang was sure he was going to cry if he stayed human too long, and it made him almost angry that Lan Xichen could be so dismissive with him when he was usually so kind to others.
"Lan gongzi, why do you dislike me so much?” he asked, hating how whiny he sounded but unable to help himself.
Lan Xichen startled and stared at him, eyes wide with surprise.
“Why would you think such a thing?" 
"When you look at me, you often have that expression on your face,” Nie Huaisang explained with a shrug, daring to meet his eyes. “And you’re always looking at me if you’re nearby, like I’m going to make trouble otherwise. I won’t, you know! I’m trying hard not to! And then, also…" 
"Also?" 
Nie Huaisang shook his head. "No, it’s stupid. It’s really nothing. And it’s fine if you don’t like me!" 
"I’m sure your concerns are not stupid,” Lan Xichen replied in an oddly strangled voice. “Tell me what I’ve done to make you believe I dislike you, so that I may correct it in the future." 
It was an odd thing to say, as if it mattered what Nie Huaisang believed. Still, ordered to speak, it would have been wrong to stay silent. 
"Everyone tries to touch me in my other form,” he explained. “But you never do. Even when we were little… You’ve really disliked me from the start, I guess?" 
"I haven’t!” Lan Xichen cried out with emotion, before quickly regaining his composure. “Huaisang, I’ve never disliked you. And I’ve been… I’ve been as tempted by your fur as everyone else,” he admitted, some colour rising on his cheeks. “Even when I was little. But everyone was always touching you, often without your permission, so I thought it would be wrong to ask. I’ve long thought if you ever want to be pet by me you will say so, and otherwise it is better to leave you alone, since you are already pestered by so many others." 
"Lan gongzi, I think that’s the kindest thing anyone has ever told me,” Nie Huaisang spluttered, his heart racing so fast and so hard that it nearly made him dizzy. 
Nobody else ever seemed to care what he preferred in terms of boundaries, except Lan Wangji… but even he had had to learn over time, and at first he had imposed himself as much as all the others. Aside from that, the only people who hadn’t tried to pet Nie Huaisang upon seeing his other form were those who got too scared. 
“If that’s the case, I’ll have a word with your brother,” Lan Xichen retorted with a warm smile that, for once, reached his eyes. “You deserve more kindness than that, Huaisang." 
His cheeks ablaze, Nie Huaisang pouted. 
"Now you’re teasing, Lan gongzi. But… So, you would want to?" 
"Would you?” Lan Xichen retorted, his face a little redder in spite of the calm of his voice. 
It was tempting to say no, just to see what would happen. If it had been anyone else, Nie Huaisang would have put the other person to the test, refusing to be touched yet still transform to tempt them. But Lan Xichen wasn’t just any person, he had proved already he would respect Nie Huaisang’s choice. 
And as to whether Nie Huaisang wanted it or not… 
It had always bothered him that Lan Xichen alone wouldn’t try to pet him in his other form. Part of it was just that he liked attention. But even after he had started disliking the touch of most others, he had still wondered about Lan Xichen. If he gave scratches half as good as Lan Wangji's… and with those long fingers of his, delicate enough for a guqin, strong enough for a bow, how could he not? 
In a heartbeat, Nie Huaisang made his choice and turned into his other shape once more, quickly walking closer to Lan Xichen. The older boy knelt down next to him, but still made no movement to touch him. 
“You didn’t really answer my question, Huaisang,” he noted, sounding somewhat amused. 
A fair remark, and one that made Nie Huaisang’s heart clench in emotion. He didn’t want to turn back into a human, so instead he rubbed himself against Lan Xichen’s knees, hoping the invitation would be clear enough. 
It must have been. Lan Xichen chuckled, and ran one hand through the thick fur on Nie Huaisang’s back. 
“It’s softer than I thought,” Lan Xichen whispered in awe, a bright smile on his lips. “Worth the wait, certainly. Thank you for allowing me." 
For a moment, Nie Huaisang feared the other boy would leave it at that, content with this single touch. He was happily proven wrong when Lan Xichen gently pet his head, letting his fingers glide behind one ear to lightly scratch there, right where it felt the best. 
Nie Huaisang didn’t even realise he had started purring until Lan Xichen’s hands stilled on the back of his head. 
"Is it you making that noise?” he gasped. 
Nie Huaisang nodded, still purring. In this form he never felt as much embarrassment as when he was human, so he shamelessly nuzzled again Lan Xichen’s wrist, silently begging for him to resume scratching him. Even Lan Wangji and Nie Mingjue, who knew him so well, didn’t do it half as well. 
“You really are full of surprises, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said with a gentle laugh.
Nie Huaisang purred louder, pressing himself harder against the other boy until he ended up half on Lan Xichen’s lap. A great place to be, although the more human part of him would probably die of shame later, when he would return to his other form and realise what he had done.
A problem for later.
At that moment, laying on Lan Xichen’s legs and with his head scratched to perfection, Nie Huaisang was the happiest he had ever been, and nothing could spoil that.
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indulgentia · 2 years
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@𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒇𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏  𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅:
dark brown orbs that could challenge a delicious chocolate bar of the finest chocolatier, if they were still able to be shone on by the rays of the sun from the blue sky above her head, bore into the back of the woman’s head that was talking to the main host of this event. obviously Yeon would attend such an important event to support him. - only because of him! even matching her dress to the wine colored tie that she once gifted him about ten years ago yet, without thinking she was shamelessly intervening their conversation, knowing damn well what she was doing, something she had rarely felt before, not so much as of lately, nevertheless, came to a life threatening peak, like a glass filled with too much water running over the edge.  it did not take long for her arm to link with his and fake a smile at the other party in front. — knowing damn well who and what their intentions were. but everyone that knew him, also knew that once they played with him she could be the end of that said game if they dared. — ironically enough, even if it did not seem like it, yeon too could be like that and the advantage that she had was age, lots of it, if seven centuries could be considered old. – though smiling eyes and lips looked at both, they held a very threatening undertone, whether it was for him or her was up to both to decide on their own. “ how rude you are being.  introduce me to your friend, orabeoni. ” — let that game begin. ( yeon and gwi; apology written on discord already! ♥ )
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Even  after  many  decades  and  many  decades,  the  apparent  need  to  keep  up  appearances  and  carry  out  tedious  formalities  didn't  seem  to  go  away  at  all.  The  things  he  was  obligated  to  do  to  maintain  the  power  and  comfort  he  had  desired  so  since  long  before  his  embrace  into  this  cursed  undead  life.  Things  that  eventually  became  part  of  his  routine  and  certainly  weren't  worth  much  closer  inspection,  had  it  not  been  for  the  company  that  had  taken  the  time  to  be  with  him  on  this  special  occasion.  Strange  to  see  her  wanting  to  accompany  him  to  yet  another  pointless  fancy  party  with  no  major  goals  except  perhaps  to  meet  some  of  the  important  new  members  of  the  night.  Maybe  the  fact  that  he  had  let  slip  that  there  would  be  foreign  women  visiting  the  place  seemed  unimportant  ——————————  to  him  at  least.  After  centuries  of  coexistence,  it  was  even  curious  that  she  would  bother  with  such  trivialities.  They  had  all  the  time  in  the  world  for  each  other  after  all.  But  surely  there  would  be  no  reason  on  his  part  to  complain  when  there  was  such  a  beautiful  sight  to  rest  his  eyes  upon  even  with  so  many  heinous  creatures  to  deal  with.
Clink  of  high  heels  on  the  floor  quickly  draws  the  obsidian  irises  up  to  the  feminine  figure,  whose  opulence  was  able  to  strike  him  stunned  silent  for  a  brief  second.  Surprise  isn't  quite  what  is  perceivable  on  his  face:  It  seemed  more  a  hint  of  admiration  towards  that  small  figure  that  even  after  centuries  could  still  leave  him  in  awe,  be  it  for  her  soft  genuineness  or  for  the  sweetness  of  each  and  every  mannerisms  of  her  no  matter  the  circumstances  they  could  be  in.  Yet  such  a  state  of  momentary  wonder  about  what  could  be  going  through  her  head  is  abruptly  interrupted  by  someone  desiring  the  Cainite’s  attention,  which  he  is  forced  to  oblige,  trying  to  direct  his  focus  to  the  creature  in  question.  A  few  words  as  usual,  a  bit  of  ego  stroking  complemented  by  his  most  beautiful  fake  smile.  Nothing  he  hadn't  done  before,  actually.  And  he  would  have  this  pretense  continued  were  it  not  for  the  unfold  of  events:  he  was  about  to  toast  the  success  of  the  occasion  and  the  advancement  of  his  business  in  and  outside  vampiric  societies  when,  all  off  sudden,  before  she  had  a  chance  to  touch  his  listener's  cup  with  his  own,  that  woman  again  held  her  sight  again  in  one  more  daring  attitude.
Despite  finding  himself  momentarily  awestruck,  as  his  subtly  widened  eyes  could  indicate,  Cardinal  promptly  tried  to  feign  some  indifference,  quickly  raising  his  glass  to  the  pair  just  ahead.  So  his  free  hand  is  used  to  reach  for  his  childe's,  slightly  cold  fingerprints  sliding  over  the  exposed  skin,  as  if  trying  to  hold  the  woman  in  the  very  place  she  was.  As  dangerously  smooth  and  slow  as  his  movement  is  his  velvety  voice,  enunciating  each  phoneme  ever  so  leisurely,  feigning  casualness:
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❛❛ How  rude  of  me,  indeed. ❜❜    His  slender  fingers  curled  around  the  other’s  small  hand,  squeezing  it  lightly.      ❛❛ I  ended  up  forgetting  to  introduce  you  to  one  of  our  main  benefactors,  Her  Excelency  the  Archbishop  of  Madrid,  who  is  just  passing  through  our  territory  for  some  quick  affairs. ❜❜      During  the  pause  the  gaze  with  no  reflection  turns  towards  the  person  mentioned,  still  maintaining  the  said  formality  wrapped  on  a  charming  smile,  albeit  somewhat  forced.  Also  there’s  seems  to  be  an  effort  to  keep  a  purposeful  vagueness  in  his  speech,  so  as  to  indicate  some  lack  of  importance  in  their  relationship,  and  basically  omitting  the  fact  that  Yeon  was  a  vampire  herself.  And  worse,  his  very  direct  childe.  Taking  the  word  once  again,  his  words  don’t  seem  to  carry  the  exact  same  casualty  as  before,  being  actually  spiced  bit  a  bit  of  pride:       ❛❛ This  is  the  head  doctor  at  the  main  hospital,  Seo  Yeon.  She  currently  administrates  our  blood  bank  entries. ❜❜    Obsidians  stray  to  her  direction  again.      ❛❛ Though  I  didn't  think  she’d  be  any  interested  in  knowing about  our  partners . . . ❜❜
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A Good Morning Ride
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed
Paring: Haytham Kenway X Reader
Genre: Smut, Newlywed Life
Rating: Mature….if not more
Word Count: 1,848
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It was a cool, crisp fall morning out at your country estate.
Since your new husband was busy all morning with meetings, you decided to take your horse, a beautiful black steed called Morrigan for a ride. It was the perfect chance to not only pass the time, but the perfect chance to break in your new riding habit, a lovely blue-green number that had been one of several wedding gifts from your husband, along with your horse.
Though the views of the fields were quite lovely, and Morrigan was in an agreeable mood during the ride, it wasn’t as enjoyable as you hoped it would be. The whole ride, your mind was filled with thoughts of your husband and how the two of you hadn’t seen as much of each other as you had hoped for. Especially since it had only been a few weeks since your wedding.
You knew that being married to the Templar Grandmaster Haytham Kenway knew that sometimes work would take him away from you, but as a new bride, you wanted your husband. It was one thing to not see him much during the day, it was another to fall asleep alone and wake up alone. Even more so when you spent the whole night dreaming of him.
After a few hours or so, you rode back to the house and took Morrigan back to the stables. Walking back into the main house, you were greeted by the butler, a tall, somewhat rotund man named Colville, who greeted you with great formality as he always did.
“Is the Master still in his study?”
‘Yes, Milady.”
Sighing internally, you considered going upstairs to change and spend some time writing letters. But after missing your husband so much from last night, you decided something needed to be done. After all, what was the point of being married to the Grandmaster if you couldn’t pull rank occasionally.
Walking towards the study, you listened for any raised voices. Some of the meetings as of late had been rather loud, but today, there was no sign of any discord. You gave three polite knocks and waited.
“Enter.” Came a clear, almost annoyed voice.
Opening the door and stepping into the study, instantly the room was filled with the sounds of chairs being moved. Quickly seeing that the Mistress of the House had stepped in, each of the men, dressed in various shades of red and black, stood up and bowed their heads respectfully, among them, dressed in mostly black, his dark hair pulled back sharply, your husband Haytham.
Quickly guessing that the meeting was now over, one of the gentlemen, dressed mostly in black with red trim, his own dark hair pulled back and with a scar on his face, spoke in a smooth voice tinged with a bit of an Irish accent  “We’ll take our leave Grandmaster.”
As the men politely filed past you, the scarred gentlemen, a new member of the order named Shay Cormac, discreetly winked at you on his way out. He could only get away with such a gesture as he had been the one to introduce you to the Grandmaster.
Once the group had left and shut the door, you walked over to the desk, swinging your crop playfully in your left hand and removing your hat. Haytham sat back down at his desk as he took in the sight of you. He couldn’t help but appreciate how your riding habit showed off your lovely form.
“How was your ride?” Haytham inquired politely as you walked over to him and sat upon his desk.
“Unsatisfactory. Much like last night’s sleep. I kept waiting for you to come to bed. But when I had awoken, there was no sign of you. Colville told me this morning he found you asleep here in the study.”
“It was a later night than I had expected. And I didn’t wish to wake you.” Haytham confessed as he took your hand and kissed it, mollifying you somewhat.
“I would have appreciated being woken up.”
“Noted.” Haytham said with a rare, sweet smile.
“Have you any more meetings?” You asked, hoping there wouldn’t be.
“That was the only one for today.”
“Good. I’d like to have my husband’s attention for once.”
Haytham moved back the chair and pulled you towards him “You have it.”
Carefully maneuvering the skirt of your habit, you sat down in Haytham’s lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry things have been so busy.” He apologized genuinely.
“Life of a Grandmaster..”
“Such as it is” Haytham shrugged. He was very sorry that Order business had taken up so much of his time away from you, his new bride. But sometimes the order had to come first.
“What would have made your ride better?”
A stray, almost perverse thought entered your mind at Haytham’s suggestion. Glancing down, you noted his thick, strong legs and hips and you thought back to your wedding night, when the two of you snuck away the first chance you got.
“I think I would have preferred a different mount.” You replied in a silky voice “A much stronger one.”
With that you stood up, hiked up the skirt of your habit and straddled your husband, who returned your devious smile as you resumed your place on his lap, placing your arms back around his neck and bringing your face to his.
Haytham removed his gloves and reached under the skirt of your habit and under the petticoats. Through the white fabric you felt his hands glide up your thighs and you shivered as you felt him get closer to the slit in your knickers, already damp with delight at his touch.
Haytham’s gaze fell upon the coat of your riding habit, perfectly tailored to show your exquisite figure. He set about to undo the matching blue green buttons and once done, brought his hands up to push the coat off you. Underneath it was the lighter blue waist coat, your shirt and crème colored necktie, fastened firmly with the brooch bearing his personal sigil. All of which would have to be dealt with if he was going to have more fun with you.
Keeping your arms around his neck, and your face close to his, you sighed deeply as he continued his work. Much as you wanted to remove the garments yourself, you were thrilled by the feel of your husbands hands as he undid each button and loosened every knot and with each piece that he removed, you felt your hunger for him grow exponentially.
Soon he had finally done away with most of them, including your corset, leaving only your necktie and your chemise. Through the white fabric, he could see your nipples, eager to be played with. He quickly took one in his mouth, then the other, his hot breath coming through the fabric, making you wetter than before and making his trousers even tighter.
Haytham let go of you long enough to loosen the buttons on his trousers and pull himself out. He considered teasing you a moment or two but decided against it and swiftly entered you. It was never wise to keep a lady waiting when it came to pleasure. The moan that escaped your throat could be heard clearly from outside the room.
Haytham brought his mouth to yours, both to muffle the sounds, and to enjoy the feel of your luscious lips on his. Quickly you began biting and pulling on his lips, hoping to make him growl in that deep voice of his. Hearing him growl when he took his pleasure always made you shiver.
You held on tightly as you slowly started rocking your hips, hoping that the ornate chair would hold under the weight of your movements. Haytham’s own hands kept roaming over your breasts, kneading and caressing them through the chemise. He so wanted to suck on your hard nipples, move his tongue all over them, tease them with the tip of his own, but you were not so eager to let go of his mouth.
While you were distracted, Haytham’s hands found their way to the collar of your chemise and the small row of buttons. Discreetly he unbuttoned them, hoping it would open enough to let him play with you the way you loved it, but it wasn’t enough. Haytham suppressed a groan as he realized that in order to indulge himself, some damage would be necessary.
You had hardly noticed the feel of his fingers on your bare skin when you heard fabric ripping and the feel of the cool air in the room brush you against your skin. Breaking the kiss and looking down, you saw that Haytham had torn your chemise and had pushed the fabric down enough to reveal your lovely breasts.
He then wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face between your breasts., both leaving hurried, frantic kisses and bites along your tender skin. Thinking there was nothing for it, you slipped your arms out of the sleeves, leaving the only the necktie in place.
You worked hard to keep your pace as Haytham’s mouth was such a distraction. Gripping tightly to the chair, you kept rolling your hips, moaning and whimpering as you rode him, his cock so unbelievably hard between your legs. Making it more fun was Haytham keeping a firm hold of you and beginning to buck his own hips, his movements quickly matching yours point for point.
You buried your face in his neck to try and muffle your moaning, but between your sounds, Haytham’s and the rhythmic sounds of the chair legs hitting the wooden floor, it was no use. The two of you had no doubt that some of the servants would be listening in, and so there was no point in keeping silent. It was better to finish strong.
Summoning his strength, Haytham lifted you up off the chair and laid you on the desk. He paid no mind to all the items you knocked over. He quickly shed his long coat and he laid himself flat on you, leaving even more kisses along your lovely form. The both of you gripped the edges of the desk as Haytham plowed into you repeatedly, deeply and without mercy, making the desk move and shake as well.
Within moments, your pussy began to throb. You whimpered loudly as your climax quickly built up and soon you felt Haytham start to throb as well. As you finally came, hard all over your husband’s delightful cock, gripping the desk for dear life as you did so, Haytham finished as well, filling you full of his seed and growling loudly as he did.
It took several moments for him to finish and when he finally did, he buried his face in your neck, spent more than he expected to be.
“Better, my wife?” He asked breathlessly.
“Much better.” You sighed contentedly, bringing a hand up and running your fingers through his hair. “That is one ride that will be hard to top.”
At that challenge, Haytham, still in inside you, felt his cock twitch and start to become hard again.
“Shall we try and top it now?” He purred.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
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ao3bronte · 4 years
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Mamma Mia AU [Part 6]
READ PART 5 HERE!
Take A Chance On Me
Six months later...
Never in her wildest dreams did Marinette expect to be sitting where she is now, dressed to the nines in one of her own highly sought after designs. Having just released her very first collection, M by MarinetteDesigns, at the beginning of December, all of her custom made prêt-à-porter fashions were flying off the racks. She’d even had to hire another seamstress just to get through the backlog of formal wear commissions that she’d received ever since Alya’s BuzzFeed friends set up her social media accounts and started repping her brand all over their articles and personal posts.
But more on that later.
At the moment, Marinette is sitting at a huge, zigzag communal table under the glassed-in rooftop patio on top of a boutique hotel in Le Marais, clapping her hands and cheering as the two people she never thought she’d see together emerge from behind closed doors hand in hand. Jagged Stone performs an epic guitar solo from the platform as Luka picks up his new bride and spins her around, grinning like a maniac.
The wedding itself is a completely bombastic affair with celebrities and the like sneaking here and there to avoid the paparazzi. Marinette feels like a kid in a candy store as Luka’s guests file in left and right, most of them artists and bands she loves to listen to. And his bride, of course, doesn’t have much of her family along for the wedding. The media backlash from her mother’s empire had been outlandish, especially in Japan, but she’d ended up fitting right in with most of Luka’s ragtag group of friends in Los Angeles. With the help of her new husband and their support circle, she’d risen above the controversy and won the Olympic gold medal in fencing, bringing honour to herself for the first time in her life.
Sporting a gorgeous red rose tattoo on her upper arm, Kagami Tsuguri Couffaine turns around and gives everyone that trademark smirk of hers, welcoming them to their reception. Luka can’t keep his hands off of her, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull when she plunks her leg up onto the chair she’s supposed to be sitting on and demands he take her garter off with his teeth. The partygoers roar as Luka does just that, emerging victorious with a red and navy strap of fabric hanging from his canines.
Satisfied with his performance, Kagami calls all of the single and unmarried ladies attending her wedding to the platform and waves her rose and orchid bouquet over her head for the traditional toss. Hoping to avoid the pitying glances, Marinette pretends to be completely consumed by her emails and ducks her head in the hopes that no one will notice her. She would have been successful too, had it not been for the exchange of raised eyebrows and playful glances between the bride, the groom and a few other savant attendees.
“One, two, three!” Kagami cries, launching her bouquet into the air. Like a missile locked on a target, it somersaults right over everyone’s heads and thwacks an unassuming Marinette straight in the face, knocking her right off her chair.
“Oh my god, Marinette!” Alya squeals, laughing as her best friend spits petals from her lips. Everyone is cheering as Marinette slowly stands up and waves the bouquet above her head, blushing with embarrassment.
“I don’t even have a boyfriend,” she shakes her head, still smiling despite not having a plus one by her side. She’s long accepted the fact that she’s going to be on her own for good and surprisingly, she feels better for it. Acceptance is the first step, after all, and Marinette has been going to so many weddings lately as an honoured guest for designing the wedding and bridesmaids dresses that the blank space at her side hardly bothers her any longer. She’s even started working on tuxedos!
Way, way down the table, Marinette tries to ignore the ghost from her past crowding the open bar with Nino and the rest of the boys. She’d said hello politely but otherwise avoided him, if only to keep a tamper on her feelings; even though her love has long withered down to smothered embers, Marinette wants to be careful to avoid the winds of change that would flare those feelings in her soul.
The food at Luka and Kagami’s wedding is fantastic and the music is even more so. After the first course, Luka invites everyone up to form a mosh pit as Jagged plays a brand new track off his upcoming album and Marinette is absolutely thrilled to bop around, screaming at the top of her lungs with her hands in the air. She’s as free as a bird and the gorgeous, rock star inspired dress she has on leaves little to the imagination as she sways and shakes to the music. Alya catches it all on TikTok, much to Marinette’s chagrin, and captions it: ‘What a catch! 🎣 How is my girl still single?!’
After, everyone takes a breather and sits back down at the table, its decorated surface filled to the brim with food served family style on colourful, mismatched platters. Marinette loves the boho aesthetic of the different multi-hued plates and napkins, the discordant textures and silverware already inspiring another collection for her fashion line. She digs into the huge heaping of pasta that Alya had plopped onto her plate and laughs along with her girlfriends as they eat the night away under the Parisian lights.
As the main course is being cleared from their tables, the wedding band begins to play and couples slowly but surely leave their tables for a tour of the dance floor. Alya jokingly offers a ‘samba-à-trois’ with her and Nino but Marinette laughingly declines, prefering to watch and take photos of her friends while they’re enjoying themselves. She’s got a knack for capturing the perfect shot and Marinette is just about to turn back towards her table to edit them when someone calls her name.
“Marinette!”
No matter how many months and years pass between them, he’ll always stop her in her tracks.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Adrien compliments her breathlessly, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He’s been dancing with the boys, hauling them up in the air on his shoulders as the party throbs around them, “I mean—you look beautiful always! It’s just—uh, tonight you look...especially beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Marinette responds, desperately trying to keep her voice even. She can’t help but transpose the black mask over his features as he runs his fingers through his messy hair, his cheeks flushed from exertion, “You look...handsome yourself.”
“Th-thank you!” he stutters, looking strangely unkempt for someone who always seems to have it together, “I just—um. Do you want to dance with me?”
He offers her his hand and she stares at it, the technicolour lights casting shadows on his upturned palm, “I...thank you for...um, offering but—”
“Please,” he beseeches her, his eyes blown wide, “I’ve missed you.”
Marinette gulps, her throat tightening against the emotions rekindling in her chest, “I’m…”
“Just one,” he says, taking a small, tentative step towards her, “And if you...if you don’t want to see me again after, I can do that.”
Her heart clenches. Tikki punches her thigh through her skirt.
“Just one,” she says eventually, placing her hand gently overtop of his. He grasps her like their lives depend on it and Marinette is suddenly thrust back to the days where their entwined fingers meant the difference between defeat and victory. He slumps with relief and pulls her towards his chest, resting his other hand on the small of her back.
And they dance.
Her heartbeat skips with every step as they sway to the music, lost in their own private orbit of things left unsaid. Adrien can’t keep his eyes away and she can hardly catch his gaze without burning up, finding it far easier to stare at the knot of his loosened tie. Somehow, they drift closer and closer until his lips are a hair’s breadth away from the crown of her head and Marinette can feel the warmth of his body coming off of him in waves, setting her skin on fire.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he whispers, his words barely there, “When I left after the wedding...I knew it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I’d do anything to take it back.”
Marinette trips a little, stumbling into his chest, “Adrien—”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you everything but Alya told me you blocked me and I...I wanted to respect that. So I’ve been waiting six months to tell you what I should have told you all those years ago,” Adrien’s voice wavers,  “I’ve loved you since the day we first fought together. The problem was, at eighteen, I thought I loved the idea of freedom more.”
“I was wrong, though. I was so, so wrong and I’ve spent the last four years of my life regretting every second. I’ve transferred to TU Delft to finish off my graduate degree so I can be closer to home. I want to come back on the weekends to fight by your side again and repair our relationship, but only if you want to. I just...I know I’ve been an awful partner and an even more awful friend so I totally understand if you never want to see me again but...I thought I would just try.”
Marinette swallows, fighting the tears that prickle at the corners of her eyes, “I’m sorry, Adrien. But I...thank you for the apology.”
He makes no move to let go and neither does she, “It’s...it’s okay. You’ve been doing so well on your own. I just want to be closer though, in case something happens. The Netherlands is only a few hours away by bus.”
The music slowly wanes and Marinette steps back, averting her gaze, “I guess it’s time for dessert.”
Adrien swallows, loosening his tie further, “Right. I...um, I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure,” she says, finally glancing back up at him. He looks wrecked, for lack of a better word, “Maybe you can tell me how your studies are going?”
“Oh!” Adrien’s expression immediately brightens, his smile near blinding, “Yes! I’ll tell you anything! Everything! After dessert! We can talk!”
Marinette can’t help but smile a little, his fumbling antics so unlike the Adrien she knows. He’s unmasked in front of her, the Chat Noir she has always known and loved, “Nino’s waving at you.”
She points over his shoulder and Adrien turns, catching a glimpse of Nino, Luka and about ten other guys all hooting and giving him questioning thumbs up. He smiles and gives them an enthusiastic nod in return before turning back to Marinette, “I’ll find you after dessert, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, watching him scamper off towards his friends. Alya is on her not a second later, her arm draped around her shoulders as they walk back to their seats.
“Well? How did it go?”
Marinette shrugs, “We danced and I asked him about his studies.”
Alya skids to a stop in her tracks, “That’s it?”
“Well, he said he was sorry too,” she says, walking out from under Alya’s arm as she continues walking, “And then the song ended and we’re going to talk about his classes after.”
“I swear to god, that idiot!” Alya stomps her foot and storms away towards her husband and the rest of the boys.
~
The cake is cut, the lights are low and the party is about to truly kick into high gear. The wedding band is replaced by one of Los Angeles' best DJs and Marinette stays out of the fray for the time being, taking a break from the action. She’s responding to commision requests when the song that had just been playing slowly dwindles and the crowd starts to scream.
“Speech!” a familiar voice cries and Marinette’s head yanks towards its source so quickly it cracks, “I'm gonna make a speech, everybody!”
Standing on the wedding platform with his tie nowhere to be found, Adrien raises his glass of champagne in one hand and holds the microphone to his lips in the other, “First of all, I just want to make a big shout out to the bride and groom for hosting an amazing party! Santé!”
The crowd cheers and drinks with him, buzzing seemingly with anticipation. An electric current tingles down the length of her neck as something tells her that everyone clearly knows something she doesn’t.
“And secondly, I want to thank my friends for helping me try and win back the love of my life. Hey, Marinette! I’m still free! Take a chance on me!”
Hoisted from the platform to the dinner tables, Adrien begins to strut as if on a catwalk, "To the most beautiful, talented woman in the world! I'm gonna do my very best to get you back, if you let me try. I wanna be the first in line to your heart."
The entire party cheers him on. Jagged Stone plays the opening chords to the wedding march on his electric guitar.
"I know I kind of screwed up,” he averts his eyes for a moment, his cheeks burning as her jaw clunks to the floor, “But if you change your mind and need me, just let me know. I’m going to be around more often and...well, put me to the test. I won’t disappoint you ever again. I’m all yours.”
He pauses in front of her, microphone still in hand, “We could go dancing or go for a walk or anything, really. Just as long as we do it together. You’ve got to know how much I want to win you back and...and when I close my eyes at night and dream, I’m always dreaming about you! You have to know that I...I can’t let go of you. Of us. Of what I left behind.”
“Please Marinette,” he reaches out to her just like he had earlier, his palm raised and at the ready. Marinette feels like dying and flying all at once.
Her heart pounding, Marinette takes a shaky breath and raises her hand only to hesitate, her fingers curling with indecision. Her mind is racing and fuzzy and between the wolf whistles and the intensity of Adrien’s gaze, Marinette finds herself feeling something in her chest she hasn’t felt in four long years.
“What do you say, M’Lady?” Adrien smiles with a hopeful shrug, “Will you take a chance on me?”
“I…” she trails off and somehow, her arm is moving on its own accord. Should she listen to her mind and turn him down? Or should she listen to her heart and find love once more in the arms of the man she’s loved for years and years and years.
Well, there’s only one choice here, isn’t there?
“Yes,” she whispers, a sweet benediction, “Yes!”
Clasping his hand, Adrien hauls her up with supernatural strength onto the table and tosses the microphone into the crowd. There’s a horrible feedback noise as Nino catches it against his tuxedo but nothing matters anymore except the smile on his face and the joy in her eyes as he wraps his arms around her waist and presses her flush to his body, “Why did I ever let you go?”
“Because you were an idiot,” Marinette responds and Adrien throws his head back and laughs. Here I go again, she thinks as she soaks in his contagious joy as the crowd screams around them. How could she resist him, especially after a confession like that?
“Can I kiss you?”
Marinette inhales sharply, “How could I resist?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Of course it is, you silly cat.”
Adrien bends down and presses his lips against hers just as the fireworks ignite in the background, bathing the glassed-in rooftop deck in hues of vibrant reds and golds. Marinette gasps as he runs his tongue along her bottom lip and she pulls him ever nearer, basking in his warmth as she grabs handfuls of his hair. She devours him longingly as he explores her body with his roaming fingertips and Marinette feels the dam of her desire breaking, overflowing with desperate, relentless love.
“I’m never going to let you go ever again," Adrien murmurs against her lips before diving back in and kissing her again, grabbing her by the hip. She feels delirious and suddenly they’re both smiling, giggling like school children because finally, finally ! They could be together! No matter what, four years or twenty, no span of time can truly keep apart true love.
READ PART 7 HERE!
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thenightling · 3 years
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The Dreaming (2018) in a nut shell
Full plot of The Dreaming (2018 run).  This is copied and pasted from a Discord conversation because I didn’t feel like repeating myself...  That’s also why it’s a bit disjointed.
I'll explain the whole plot as best I can, bear with me. There's this monstress named Dora living in The Dreaming, and she's got a chip on her shoulder since Morpheus had once promised her she'd never have to be afraid ever again and that was shortly before The Kindly Ones.  Anyway, she's been haunting the dream of this woman dying of throat cancer (revealed to be Rose's mother).  Daniel goes MIA and doesn't seem to want to be found.
Suddenly these "blanks" generic looking humanoid enterities start pouring in from cracks in the dreaming.   Mervyn invents a racial slur for them of Soggies (totally not "wet backs").
While Daniel is gone Judge Gallows (another old DC horror host) takes over The Dreaming and promises to make The dreaming great again.
Dora befriends one of the blanks who is very child-like and names him Ziggy. Merv starts penning them up on behalf of Judge Gallows and even attempts to lynch Ziggy. 
Merv has a grudge.  Shortly before Judge Gallows took over Lucien used the helm to un-create Merv's friends right on the steps of the caslte and it was implied to be out of spite
("I did warn you." - said by Lucien).  It's a "They took our jobs" thing, apparently. The blanks are more efficient. No immigration metaphors here, nope.
Lucien is apparently slowly losing his mind / going senile.  He can't remember anything.   Eventually Judge Gallows gets defeated and replaced with this weird AI, yes an AI named Wan.   WAN, as it turns out was created by this character who looks suspiciously like Steve Jobs. Actual character name: Hyperion Keter.
Totally not Steve Jobs had a nightmare decades before where Dora was attacking him.  he had confronted her in the dream and told her she's not real.  This caused her to have an existential crisis and flee into The Dreaming where Morpheus had tended to her and sealed her own memories to protect her mind.  He also hid the newly re-created ruby dreamstone inside her to aid her until she no longer needed it.
Steve Jobs-Knock-off guy creates Wan with the intention of invading and conquering The dreaming.  He thinks all the ills of humanity come from dreams.  Greed, superstition, religious zealousness.   Oh, by the way, Judge Gallows heavily indicates that Morpheus caused the civil war and holocaust by creating him (Judge Gallows) to prey on man's fear of "The other". So anyway, while that was going on Daniel was playing human and dating Ivy. Steve Jobs sends some occultists to steal a lock of Ivy's hair to control her.  Ivy gets upset when Daniel won't let her tattoo him since she's a tattoo artist. (that's where I grew to hate her).  She doesn’t accept no means no with his bodily autonomy.  Daniel apologizes to her and proposes marriage.  He gives her an emerald ring.
The occultists (working out of Fawny Rig) control Ivy and she gives Daniel a dream catcher / tree of life tattoo that works as a geas to bar him from The Dreaming and prevent him from calling out for help.
Ivy tries to "apologize" by giving him a cup of tea but it turns out to be poisoned.   Desire (or what appears to be Desire, it might be posthumous Morpheus in disguise, the face is always partly hidden and he's very thin) warns Rose of what's going on and Rose slaps the drink from Daniel's hand but he's already had a taste.  Daniel, freaks the f--k out.
A dog walker eats his own fingers right there on the beach.   Someone screams until their vocal chords burst in their throat.  Daniel is maming and mutilating right and left (and this is NOT where those partiers were killed, that was earlier and said very nonchalantly during the dating montage.  Daniel made some drunk bachelor party guys who cat called Ivy walk into the ocean and drown...  I think he killed the entire party...)
Daniel finds the occultists and traps them all in terrible nightmare half-concious states but still weakened and unable to return to The Dreaming he goes to apologize to Ivy, knowing she was being controlled but it's too late, she's ODed and brain dead.
He takes her soul with him to flee to another universe.
Dora, meanwhile, gets a hold of Destruction's sword, briefly meets up with Nuala (who has learned Titania's true name thanks to Daniel stopping by for help with the fae).  Daniel gets the egg that Titania has from back during the original Books of Magic, this is the "Mundane Egg" able to open or create another universe.
Anyway, back in The Dreaming Wan (the AI) is trying to run things and doesn't know it has a secret dark side programming to destroy the place.
Wan legitimately wants to do good and blacks out when the other side takes over. An AI with a split personality. Wan talks Abel into taking the initiative and kill Cain...
Cain does not revive. Wan also digitizes the entire dreaming library because of Lucien's memory problems.   Lucien decides he wants to die.
Abel scooped out Matthew's eyes with a spoon and gives him his own eyes so Matthew can see what he sses, the secret that Wan is destroying The Dreaming. Matthew with giant human eyes sticking out of his tiny raven head, Abel (whose eyes grow back), and Dora, head out to save the dreaming.
Cain, meanwhile, his soul was uploaded into an AI at the home of Not-Steve Jobs. So he's there.  The heroes make their way there and learn the story of why things are happening.   Poor not-Steve Jobs was dying of cancer (this was really tasteless to model him after Steve jobs).  And Daniel briefly came to him, showing him what he was destroying in destroying The Dreaming,  Hyperion tried to set things right but his own minion stopped him.
Dora shows up and accidentally shuts down Steve's life support system. Rose gets told more exposition dump from "Desire" (I'm telling you, there are clues it's actually Morpheus) She hijacks a bus to get to Steve Jobs'  place. Here we discover the re-created ruby dream stone was inside Dora the whole time.  Lucien, meanwhile, had tried to be re-abosrbed into The Dreaming with the help of his dream friends (eve, Merv, etc).  And he has a brief visit with Death who introduces him to Steve Jobs and gives him a special book that has all of Lucien's lost memories. Dora returns to The dreaming with the dream stone, and her, Lucien, and the other dream folk are able to summon Daniel back, breaking the geas spell he was under (Ivy is left behind).
Dora is a Night Hag, by the way.   That was her big secret besides having the ruby in her. They kept harping on how special she was, that she wasn't like the others in the Dreaming. ...she was a Night hag, that's it.  They kept going on about her being special, this big secret, she's a night hag.  Eve delviers a line I cannot forgive.  She says something like "We were worried he only kept us around out of laziness or loneliness. We were wrong."  They were HAPPY they were there as a failsafe, as tools in case he got captured again in the waking world.  They would rather be tools than for someone to want them around out of loneliness?!  Daniel uncreates Wan but as Wan begns to fade the good side of Wan helps Daniel set things right and apologizes for its other personality. Daniel erases Rose's memory of the entire adventure (which I think is bullshit).  She lost her f--king daughter, you asshole!  And Lucien learns to be 'More assertive" and when Daniel requests he come to the throne room so he can thank them formally Lucien says no, because he's drinking with Dora.
"character growth" TM
 hated Simon's run of The Dreaming but not as much as I hate Caitlin R. Kiernan's. 
Dreaming Waking Hours is about a Nightmare named Ruin who escapes to the waking world because he's fallen in love with a mortal.   It's so much better but all the events of Simon's Dreaming are still canon so that's a problem. The villain being modeled after Steve Jobs even if he sees the error of his ways in the end was totally tasteless. My hands ache from writing all that out...
Oh, and Cain is back to normal (for him) he and Abel took turns in a sort of tag team tormenting the tech support for Wan, via nightmares. So they couldn't intervene in stopping the destruction of the AI. That was actually a fun scene. "There will be no tech support today." Cain shows up with a chainsaw.
Also the reason "not Steve Jobs" knew about Dream was because he found a journal from an occultist at a garage sale that described Morpheus' capture.
I think I'm still traumatized from reading it, especially the early issues where Merv was used as a Trump supporter allegory. And Abel did give Matthew back his normal raven eyes while they were in Steve Job's house.   Though don't ask me how Abel even did the initial eye surgery of putting his eyes in Matthew while he was blinded.  
Someone tried telling me Simon Spurrier wasn't trying for a Republican metaphor, he was making a commentary on the Tories How is that better?!?
It's still a very dated political reference.
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thoi2020 · 2 years
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Hello it is 🧑‍🎄! My apologies for not sending messages consistently and punctually. Happy Christmas Eve! I hope the past few days have been kind to you! Don't worry about late responses, I do not mind at all.
And no it's not mean, it's okay if nobody is particularly "skilled" at gifts! Do you enjoy giving presents more or receiving them?
Regarding new year's resolutions, I too am a bit of a procrastinator, so I don't blame you about not thinking ahead. My problem usually is that I spend too much time daydreaming about the future while neglecting the things I should be doing in the present so that I can reach that specific future... But I digress.
I believe I'm the same about memory and the days bleeding into one, and I found that journaling does help! However, formal journaling isn't the only way to document your day. I think sometimes, instead of forcing yourself to conform to one method of documenting your day, maybe allow yourself to be spread across platforms and places? I now learn to retrace my days by looking at my photos, screenshots, Instagram stories, Discord messages and so on. But I will say that recording the present is invaluable, if not for your future self, for your current self! Introspection is so important and it is something I too want to dive deeper into.
Good luck getting into a good college! Do you have any colleges or subjects in mind? I can imagine studying is hard, but know that the entirety of Bitch Pack has your back! Even if this is not a formal resolution, it is indeed a goal that is worth working towards, and we are cheering on you all the way.
Getting more sun is so important! Is it sunny there in winter? I hope that even if it is not sunny, you can still go out for 30 mins a day, because being cooped indoors for an extended period of time might not be healthy. I presume it would be good to at least go out and get a change of scenery, don't you think?
My apologies for this ask being very long-winded, I hope you don't mind! I do not mind at all if you have long replies. To be honest, I think you might be able to guess who I am, but that's beside the point.
Is your cousin with you and your family now? I hope you are having a good week. I'm not sure if you have a Christmas holiday (I'm happy to hear you do not have exams on Christmas day itself, but unsure if that means you get time off or not necessarily), but either way, I hope you can have a good time. I know I am not properly answering your questions, but what is your ideal way of spending the new year? Do you usually spend it with your family? Would you prefer to spend it differently?
I also do want to say this: I am not the best at keeping up with my friends, but I see that it can be hard being in your family. I want you to know that I hear you and I'm really sorry. I know your parents can be strict and overbearing, and I know college might be an escape route of sorts for you. Know that you are loved and cared for, okay? And I wish you and your brother nothing but the best this Christmas 🧑‍🎄
hiii omg it's ok i completely feel u!!! i'm glad to receive this itself pls dont worry <3 i'm going to divide my answer in paragraphs so it's easier for u to read!
i prefer giving presents! i love the process of deciding on something and like. the excitement of wondering what they'll think of it, and if i am lucky enough to be around when they open it! january of this year, a friend of mine sent me the video of her opening my present and i go back and watch it every now and then, the joy is just that contagious! i LOVE receiving them too, though... another unparalleled joy tbh! it does leave me with the "oh there's no more new ones anymore" after opening them, u know? so that just ever so slightly sours it for me, but not that much!
alsooo that is SUCH a mood,,, ure literally like me for real... it's ok, perhaps this year we can both work on it a lil bit! any improvement is still improvement, right?
that's soo true,, i love ur thought process on this!! i want to work on taking more pictures- of me, of my day, etc. i think it will help me feel better about myself too (and maybe teach me a thing or two about posing properly lmaoo😭)
and aaa thank u so much!! i do actually, i'm aiming for IITs, which are like, the most prestigious engineering colleges in the country, there's quite a few, spread out over the country, but there's a lot of competition so it's pretty hard (at least for me haha)... as for subjects,, that really depends on how well i score, my first choice is comp sci engineering, and second is aeronautical engineering!
i agree! LOVE getting the sun,, we've been getting it quite a lot these days (at least compared to most of december) but i'm afraid we'll lose it soon bc it rains a lot in january... dont know how i'm going to make it out of bed on those days lol... we will see <3
oof my cousins did not visit, my grandma (mother's mother, she doesn't live with us) has covid so we all decided to cancel plans bc of that. but yes, i do have the day off! going to a christmas party in the evening tomorrow!
and as for my ideal new year's day... i think i'd just like to have a chill day full of stuff i enjoy doing. like i would want to wake up early and watch the first sunrise of the year, go for a walk, have my favourite breakfast... things that make me feel New and Shiny and Fresh and Blank Slate, u know?? i do spend it with my family which is... not bad at all, not really, but it's also not my ideal. i think that'll change as i spend more time away from them, but currently, for all 18 years of my life, i've spent NYD with them in pretty much the same way, so u can see how i'm dying for some change, right?
i'm just at a stage in life where i'm getting a bit weary of them and just like. years of missing out on friendships and the fun that comes along with it has started weighing a bit. i had started to resent them for it, thankfully i learnt and don't anymore, but that doesn't change how much i'm burning to get out of here and feel like my own person. this rlly ties into what u said at the end, about college being an escape route, and yeah it really is one for me at this point. i want to have friends and be affectionate with them and maybe even have a romantic relationship with someone without my parents bearing down on or judging me... fingers crossed x
aaa this got quite long, (thank u for saying u dont mind 💞 and also neither do i, love it actually!), i hope u have a lovely christmas and new year 💕
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rubiaryutheroyal · 6 years
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Discord Event 1
Since AO3 is being a real pain in the rear end with account invites, I’m gonna have to post this here. Sorry for the cramped tumblr page, but it’ll have to do.
Title: Paulownia Tomentosa Timeline: Yakuza 0 Spoilers: for endgame of above Shipping: N/A Legal stuff: Submission fanfic for the Springtime Festivities event on the Yakuza/RGG Fanworks Discord. All characters are ��Sega. Description: A tribute to Tetsu Tachibana and his now headcanon’d indoor zen garden. Warning: Name puns ahead. Proceed with caution.
Here is the empty lot.
It’s but a small patch of land caught between towering buildings. There is nothing here but abandoned scraps of wood chips, trash, and broken dreams.
A beautiful bouquet of lilies and balloon flowers lies still on the ground at the center of the lot. Though there is a gentle and swift breeze, the buildings that surround this lot make it difficult for the breeze to glide smoothly by. Thus, the flowers remain unmoving.
The sound of footsteps cracks through the silence. A towering man in a gray suit steps over to where the flowers have been laid. He’s carrying a small bag of mandarin oranges in one hand. With his other, he gently slips one out, a bright and crisp color with a single-leafed stem still attached, kneels down and sets it before the bouquet. He then steps back to view the scene.
It’s a moment of pause before he finally reveals a soft smile. He speaks in a low and deep tone: “Good news, Tachibana… They’ve been growing splendidly.”
He looks up to the sky, giving a deep sigh. Even if he’s only been employed as a real estate agent for a few months, they were some good few months.
“…I still don’t know a thing about gardening or plants altogether, but at least I’ll keep it going for as long as I can. It’s… what you would have wanted, right…?”
~
Several months prior…
Kazuma Kiryu is the newest recruit to Tachibana Real Estate Enterprises, and yet people can’t help but know his name. He’s the yakuza-like one. He’s the CEO’s pet. He’s the brash upstart who doesn’t know his place and would damn well have been fired already if it wasn’t for the boss.
Such words mean little to him, though. He’s well aware of how he ended up working for this company – but he doesn’t yet understand why he was accepted. The boss just came up to him one rainy night when he was just expelled from his family, and soon, he was in. And just a few days later, his supervisor Oda calls him up out of the blue.
“Yo, Kiryu-kun. The boss is looking for you.”
“Me? What for?”
“I dunno, but he said it was important, looked pretty solemn too… You didn’t do anything to piss him off, did you?”
“Of course not. I’ve only been working for three days!”
“Yeah, and in that span of time, you’ve managed to piss me off too many times to count.”
“…I’m still learning.”
“Save me your excuses. Anyway, you’d better get back to HQ and pronto. There’s only so far you can take a man’s patience before he snaps…”
“I got it already. I’ll be there.”
Oda promptly hangs up on him without so much a goodbye or thank you. Kiryu sighs, wondering to himself. Oda, I can understand… but why would the boss be upset with me? It’s been pretty quiet from him lately… I hope it’s nothing too serious.
He sets back the pay phone into its receiver and hurries off.
~
Knock knock.
“Come in,” comes the gentle reply.
Kiryu steps inside with a wary look on his face. Tachibana is standing by the window, hands behind his back, looking over the cityscape. He turns back around to greet him with a gentle smile.
“Ah, you’re here, Kiryu-san. Sorry to interrupt you from your work.”
He steps forward at attention. “It’s alright, sir. Oda said… er, Oda-san said you needed to see me for something?”
“Yes. It’s a little sudden, but I recalled something we had forgotten to do shortly after your initiation.”
“Huh? Oh, what is it? Is there something I have to fill out, or…?”
“Oh, no, nothing so formal.”
“Huh?”
Tachibana begins walking toward him, or rather, the door behind him. “Come with me. I need to first show you something.”
“…Alright, sir.”
He follows Tachibana out of the office, down the hall to the elevators, and steps in after him. He watches his boss press the number to the 49th floor, and the doors slide closed. In the next several minutes as the elevator cruises smoothly down to their destination, there’s an uncomfortable silence between the two of them. They both remain completely still, though Kiryu’s tensed face gives himself away.
…Sheesh, I haven’t felt this kind of nervousness since the first time Nishiki and I were sent to the disciplinary counselor back in grade school…
Finally, the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open again. Tachibana, without missing a beat, steps out. Kiryu follows along with a much stiffer stride, to which he tries to shake away the nerves.
He follows Tachibana to a large room in the back, noticing the placard set beside the door: Zen Garden.
“…A garden? In here?”
Tachibana nods silently and pushes open the door.
Inside is a beautiful arrangement of various tropical flowering plants native to East Asia, circular stone paths around a small pond, with window panes that line the entire back wall of the room. There is even the rhythmic clack of the shishiodoshi to the makeshift stream that runs along a little “hill” to the pond.
“…Nice place you got.”
“Thank you. I’ve probably spent a bit more than I needed to decorate it, but in the end… I rather like the outcome.”
“Hm…” Kiryu nods, but his attention strays to a spot near the back, where there sits an empty plot of earth. “Hm?”
“What is it, Kiryu-san?”
“I see there’s an empty space there. Are you going to fill it?”
“Ah, yes. That is what I wish to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“I had been contemplating what sort of plant to set there when I received that letter from Kazama-san about you. Since then, I’ve reserved this space just for you when you finally come to meet it.”
“…Is this the initiation thing you were talking about?”
“Well, it’s not exactly custom for us to treat every new recruit we get with a new plot in the garden, but I’m willing to make an exception this time.”
“But why me? I haven’t done anything outstanding yet… aside from making trouble for Oda-san.”
“It almost seems like a flight of fancy… but when we first met, I think I may have seen something else in you.”
“Huh?”
“Potential… to achieve greatness.”
“Um, I don’t know… I’m still getting used to proper etiquette and all that…”
Tachibana then chuckles, to his confusion. “It doesn’t have to be soon or even within the extent of this company, but it is there, lying in wait for the right time.”
“…” Kiryu doesn’t respond because he isn’t sure how. On one hand, it seems Tachibana is praising him, but on the other hand, there also seems to be some hidden motive behind it. Thinking about it, his boss does look awfully content with himself… maybe it’s the garden atmosphere?
“…In the meantime,” he casually continues, “How would you like to help me choose?”
“Um… choose what?”
“What sort of plant would you like to put there?”
“O-oh. A plant, huh…” Kiryu takes a moment – which only lasts a few seconds before he replies, “No idea. I don’t really know many plants.”
The blunt answer amuses Tachibana, who smirks back. “Well… what about something that could represent you or your connections to this company? Sort of like leaving your mark on it.”
“Hmm… I only really know about the common ones, like roses and tulips, sunflowers…” He pauses to think a little further. “…Oh, wait.”
“Yes?”
“Ah… I remembered a conversation I had with a childhood friend of mine about our names. When we asked the caretaker at the orphanage we lived in, she mentioned that the ‘kiri’ in my name was a kind of tree or something…”
“Ah, the Empress Tree.”
“E-empress?”
“Yes. It’s also called the foxglove tree because its flowers somewhat resemble foxglove flowers.”
“…Empress…”
“Don’t think too much into it, Kiryu-san. It is a beautiful and often prized tree.”
He clears his throat. “Anyway, would that be a good choice to put here? It’d sure stand out, but…”
“Hmm… I don’t think so.”
“Huh?”
“To grow a tree like that, we would need a much larger expanse of land, as its roots can grow rather deep. It’s not so fitting for a simple garden like this one.”
“Oh.”
“If you’re having trouble coming up with suggestions, may I offer a hint?”
“A hint?”
“You could try something that would better represent your connections to this company, for instance.”
“Connections… Well, I came to this company because of you, sir, so I guess… Tachibana, tachibana… Oh!” He looks rather excited when he comes out with it: “How about a mandarin orange tree?”
Tachibana seems to be taken aback in surprise.
Unsure of whether his attempt at a joke got across, he adds, “…’Cause you know, ‘tachibana’ written another way is…”
“…” And now he looks unamused.
“Uh… I-I’m sorry, sir. That was improper.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not you, Kiryu-san. I simply recalled something from my childhood. My apologies for spacing out like that.”
“I-it’s no problem, sir.” Whew.
He smiles again, peering over to the plot of soil, “Well, a little mandarin orange tree…” and back to him, “…for a young real estate agent. It’s quite poetic, really.”
“Yeah… um… I’ve been meaning to ask, sir.”
“Yes?”
“Do you like mandarins?”
Once again, Tachibana seems to freeze and doesn’t reply right away. Just as Kiryu is getting worried again, he does speak up: “They’re fine with me. I don’t particularly like them, but I certainly don’t dislike them.”
“Hm, I see… Are you alright? Should I not have brought up that question?”
“I’m fine,” he replies flatly. Thankfully, he has an incredibly strong poker face, so Kiryu doesn’t suspect a thing.
“Alright. Is this all you wanted to talk with me about, sir?”
“For now, yes. In the meantime, keep up the good work. I’m sure you’ll get used to how we do business very quickly.”
“Right. Of course, sir.”
Tachibana moves to head for the door while Kiryu takes another peek back at the plot. “Oh, sir?”
He wheels back around. “Yes, Kiryu-san?”
“Should I go fetch those seeds for you?”
He smiles with that familiar yet mysterious look in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I can search for them on my own time. Now, come along.”
Once they’re out the door, Kiryu bids his boss a polite bow and excuses himself. Today was an odd day for sure, getting called up by his boss out of the blue to talk about plants and oranges, but all in all, it was pretty fair and relaxing.
~
Kiryu snaps back to attention. He’s still here, standing in the empty lot, carrying a bag of mandarin oranges, staring off at the back wall. Of course, Tachibana is no longer here.
Nonetheless, it’s been a long time since Kiryu has felt this relaxed. He’s stopped by for a quick visit in his former boss’ honor and left an offering to his departed soul. That’s all he needs to do here. No point in moping about or feeling sorry for either of them. What’s happened has happened.
He peers back down at the bouquet and single mandarin orange he set beside it.
“… I might not have learned much about gardening, but at least I did learn some things from you. Thank you.”
And so he struts off with that bag in tow, wondering to himself what he’s going to do with the rest.
“…This is a lot of oranges for me. Maybe I’ll give them away?”
While he muses to himself, a shady fellow with an eyepatch hiding behind a nearby vehicle parked along the curb is now sitting on the ground, having a smoke to himself. At first he was going to ambush Kiryu, but on second thought, he realizes he just wanted to find out where the guy was headed with that bag of oranges. Now that he does know, all of a sudden, he’s not interested in picking a fight. Perhaps it’s for the best.
There’s always next time, after all.
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Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | JuminxMC Good Ending Continued | Ch.8 Overemotional
***Just like I promised! YOur second chapter this week! Normal posting resumes on Monday. My life has just been such a mess lately and I really appreciate ya'll sticking by me and any messages of love and appreciation I've gotten are what's keeping me going. T_T Ya'll rock.
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The doctor had come and gone, taking Mr. Chairman with him, and Jumin had insisted on our returning to the penthouse together. His father was apparently on the brink of dementia which coupled with his current emotional state had caused some sort of mental breakdown. Elizabeth 3rd had turned out to be just fine, now sitting in her special cat carrier in the passenger seat next to Driver Kim because she liked to watch him drive. I held my husband’s hand in my lap as we sat in silence in the back of his vehicle, Driver Kim’s partition solidly closed to give us privacy even though we weren’t speaking. Gently I brushed my fingers over the back of his large and tender hands.
Tears welled up and spilled over, falling onto his hand when I had intended to be strong for him because of everything that had happened. It was my own fault that I’d lost hope he would return to me, but he’d dealt with far, far worse, I was sure of it. Not just his father, but probably the entire three days that he’d been missing. My voice broke even as I was nearly whispering. “I thought you were dead…I’m so sorry…”
Jumin’s hand pulled away from mine, and for a moment, I thought I’d made him angry, but then he moved, pulling me into his chest. “I thought I would never see you again, MC…” His own voice broke and it was like my heart had stopped and was trying to frantically restart. “The attack started and my bodyguards stole me away through a set of tunnels, but we managed to get lost more than once. We made it to a helicopter waiting for us, but were chased in the air and had to make an emergency stop to fix a number of mechanical issues. I couldn’t call you…I couldn’t turn on my phone for the fear that somehow it would alert whoever may be chasing us. You were on my mind every moment, and the thought of not seeing you again was the most painful I’ve ever had.”
His arms tightened around me all the more, hands almost obsessively brushing through my hair, much like he pet Elizabeth 3rd when he was stressed and needing comfort. A simple nervous habit, but one that made me cling to him even more tightly. His voice sounded so…distant now, even though he was still right there with me. “I didn’t know what was happening with my father…or I never would have left you in danger like that. My apologies, MC.”
So formal…his defense mechanisms kicking in. I shook my head but didn’t pull away from his chest, simply mumbling into him. “It wasn’t your fault…No one knew. Just…Tell me you’re safe now…That everything will be okay now.” His breathing had stilled for a moment, but now he pulled away, taking my chin in his hand and forcing me to look him in the eyes, the sincerity shining there an impossible and beautiful thing. “Everything will be okay…now that I’m here with you.”
I didn’t know whether he was trying to say it to himself or to me really at this point, but I was simply happy to have him back. His hand was so warm, so very real, and it was no dream that he was back with me. Now I leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips, something so tentative and shaky but which was returned by his own kiss, a strong and demanding one.
His hand slipped into my hair and now I was making my own demands and before I even realized what was happening, he was laying over me in the backseat pulling his tie away and tossing it to the floor of the vehicle before pressing his forehead against mine, our shaky breaths intermingling before he spoke. “I can’t be without you MC…in this life or the next.” I simply ran my fingers through his hair, letting the silence stretch between us for a time before I was able to even think about what to say in return, my vows slipping from my lips almost compulsively but instead of ‘until death do us part’ the words ‘for all time’ ended them.
Jumin had pulled back to watch me, his darkened eyes widening ever so slightly as I finished before he bent to kiss my lips, mumbling against them.
“I, Jumin Han, take you MC…to be my lawfully wedded wife.” Now he moved once more, brushing feather light kisses down my jaw to my neck, his breath hot against my neck before he continued. “To have and to hold from this day forward…”
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I nearly stumbled as a wave of nausea hit me once we were exiting the elevator on our penthouse floor, I grabbed at my husband whose brows furrowed before he swept me up in his arms, taking me to the bedroom in all haste before his hand immediately went to my forehead. “You’re warm.” That was all he said, a mixture of worry and possibly even distaste in his voice. I simply waved his hand away. “I’m just tired…While you were gone I worried myself sick that’s all. Now that you’re home, I’ll be fine.”
My little admission didn’t seem to please him. “How long have you felt sick?” I bit my lip and thought back. “Well…after you left was when it really started, but it was just in the evenings. I just missed you was all.” He frowned. Did he not believe me, or was he just unhappy that I was ill? It wasn’t like I was lying, and it was perfectly reasonable to think that my worry and exhaustion could have been the problem, and why was I getting so worked up because now there were tears.
He was calm and collected as always, analyzing me with that stern look on his face that meant business. “You’re getting emotional.” His hand was right back on my forehead. “Just warm…but not a fever…Do you feel this emotional when you’re not exhausted?” Again, I waved his hand away. “You just got back, really…I’m fi-“ And a sob bubbled up shortly followed by another. Didn’t he trust me? He’d just gotten home and he was interrogating me, and so much had happened in the past few hours with his arrival and his father and the ride home and just everything and it was all too much and now he was holding me curled up in his lap, his hand gently brushing through my hair as he pressed kisses to the top of my head.
Of course he trusted me. Was I insane? No…just emotional…Stupidly overemotional. The sobs slowed and then were gone replaced by frustration with myself which passed not long after back into sadness until I was worn out. All the time, my husband remained silent, holding me close until it was over and I was quietly nuzzling into him. “I’m sorry…” What kind of an idiot was I being?
“You’re pregnant.” He stated it so matter of factly, and I pushed away in shock, only to have him pull me right back into his lap to save me from falling to the floor. “You…no, no. I’m just exhausted and have been worried about you. You’re not a doctor, how would you even know?” Now that I thought about it…it did make sense…but wasn’t morning sickness supposed to happen in the mornings and not in the evenings? Surely he was just mistaken and everything could be explained away. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be pregnant, but…Oh, God, maybe I was pregnant?
Jumin seemed amused at my shocked reaction, gently placing me back against the pillows. “There are tests in the master bath, if you wish to take one.” Well, of course I did! If only to prove that I was right. Jumin had a bit of a need to be right, because he tended to always be right, but…Oh…he was right. I stared at the little indicator box and the two lines there. Pregnant. I was pregnant.
He was smiling a little too broadly when I returned to the bedroom…somewhat smugly…for my taste, but he was too gentlemanly to say ‘I told you so.’ Sheepishly I waved the test before tossing it into the trash and then going to join him on the bed. “I’m pregnant…We’re having a baby…” Jumin pulled me into his side and rested his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m glad…We’ll take you to the doctor’s tomorrow.” Was he a little too formal about it, or was I coming up with horror stories in my own head? His own father had just tried to have him killed via guerilla warfare and maybe that was making him uncomfortable with-
“Relax, MC…” My thoughts were broken as Jumin pulled away and then stood to undress for bed. “I’m overjoyed…I’m just too tired to celebrate, and obviously we can’t share a glass of wine, so let’s sleep for now instead.”  He’d managed to anticipate my worries, that business side of him always thinking two steps ahead. Sleep sounded like heaven, though, and it wasn’t long before we were wrapped up under the covers together…and in the morning, we’d still be wrapped up together, just like we were meant to be.
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tuesdayandtuesday · 7 years
Text
when it rains, it pours
day three of @platonicvldweek - lions/bonding
2460 words in which lance cannot bear to be himself, and blue cannot bear to have him otherwise. s2 spoilers.
also available on ao3.
--
      Of all the paladins, perhaps Lance has the greatest chance of being found with his lion. He’s always present with the other pilots, hanging off Hunk’s every word, bickering with Keith, complaining with Pidge, wreaking havoc between the three of them, and yet at the same time, he’s gone so often. And when he’s gone, he’s with Blue.
        Or, as the case may be, Blue is with him.
        The castle is large, but not large enough to keep them apart, and Blue cuts into his waking moments seamlessly, no matter where he is. One moment, she is just a robotic lion in a hangar, and the next, Lance’s head swims with her presence. Colors he’s never seen before explode behind his eyes until Blue’s gears and sprockets rise into what very well could be the sweetest symphony in the galaxy. The first time this happened, he thought the castle was under attack, but now he recognizes every note in Blue’s call with perfect clarity, particularly the low thrums of pride and the high keen of worry.
        It’s that high keening that resonates with him tonight. Blue is not especially prone to startling him anymore, not since their moods have begun to shift as one, but the knot in his gut is not his own, not after a hot shower and the quietest moment of peace to watch the stars drift by. Not to mention the castle alarms aren’t blaring.
        “I’m coming,” he says, sliding out of his bunk and into his jacket in one fluid motion. He almost makes it out the door before thinking better of it and snatching his bayard from the shelf. Just in case.
        Barely an hour ago, the castle halls felt peaceful, like the rare hour before dawn when everyone else is asleep and the rain patters a lullaby against the roof. Now, Lance fights the urge to check over his shoulder every few steps, and when he does check, and when there’s nothing there, he gets the unshakable sense that there should be. If there isn’t, then he’s just scared of his own shadow, something his pride can’t bear when the universe teems with far darker things to fear.
        The hangars are close, but not close enough right now. Even a single turn is too many as Blue’s distress sharpens, slashing through his twisted gut and leaving cold terror to fill the wound. The zip line takes an eternity, the speeder ride a lifetime more, and the moment Lance spills out on the hangar floor, he sprints to her side.
        She looks sick. Her chin rests on the floor, cradled between her paws, and even though her eyes glow softly as he reaches up to run a hand over the side of her muzzle, the yellow lights are dimmer than usual. “I’m here, beautiful,” he tells her when even chin scratches don’t do the trick. “It’s me, I’m right here.”
        Together, they sit in the dark of the hangar, and even though Blue doesn’t have lungs, Lance refuses to believe that she isn’t breathing in perfect sync with him. The lines between lion and paladin blur in that strange way they have, almost imperceptibly. With his eyes shut, Lance watches himself trying in vain to soothe Blue, his lips moving with stories he doesn’t have to say aloud to share. His hands seem to scorch against the cool metal of her hide, and he can hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
        Then the storm breaks, and Blue drags him under.
        Connecting with Blue is usually like wading into the shallows or sifting through tide pools, searching for treasures in crystal clear water, but this time, it’s like a rip current has snatched him by the ankle and whisked him out into the heart of the ocean. The waters are murky, he cannot think, he cannot breathe, and the pressure is everywhere. He fights the urge to inhale, desperate to find the surface, any surface, but even Lance cannot hold his breath forever, and when he gives in, the rest of Blue floods him in an explosion of noise and color.
        He knew from the moment she filled his head in his room that she worried, but now he knows the rest. He knows why the alarms haven’t sounded, why the worry isn’t his, why she looks so limp on the floor.
        Blue is worried about him.
        The sea clears as quickly as it drowned him, and he floats on Blue’s music, letting it rock him in waves. In the deep, she was erratic, even violent. Discordant. Every click and rumble, the ones Lance is used to hearing in her joints as she flies, fought against one another, tearing the notes out of harmony and into pieces. Now, though, Blue is easy to read, like sheet music, even if Lance doesn’t have a wealth of formal musical experience at his fingertips. Her worry crests and falls, punctuated by the color of white beach sand and bleeding sunsets, by old lullabies and new pop hits, all in fragments somehow recognizable among the chaos. Everything swirling through Blue is keyed exclusively to Lance, all the way down to his earliest days, before Blue was ever his and he was ever Blue’s.
        And then he recognizes the familiar pang of homesickness laced into it all, and lets himself sink under the water and back to the surface, where the hangar is no brighter than it was before. Not entirely to his surprise, the rest of his face feels dry compared to the tear tracks running down his cheeks, and his voice is hoarse.
        “I want to go back,” he croaks, resting his forehead against Blue’s paw. She shifts, sitting upright and filling the room, and her tails curls around to graze Lance’s back, the closest thing to a hug that a robotic lion her size can come to. He’ll take it, though, because the only thing he could need more right now is a wormhole straight to Earth, which is precisely the one thing he cannot have.
      He chokes on his next words, swiping the back of his hand under his nose, hissing between his teeth as he grazes his knuckles on the upper edge of one of Blue’s claws. Skinning his knuckles in itself isn’t a big deal, but suddenly Lance feels so clumsy, so misaligned, like the audio stuttering and skipping half a second behind its video, so intolerable and frustrating and insufferable, and with that the dam breaks.
      Blue makes an uncanny mirror for his misery. Eyes screwed shut to hold back tears, he has to deal with snatches of the past hurtling his way. He hears his family laughing, singing, and he can name every voice like it was only yesterday (except was it yesterday or yesteryear because now it’s hard to keep track, too hard), and he can see the pilot classification lists in hard black type, and he can feel the shudder of the flight simulator as it crashes again, and, and, and…
      Everything rises to the surface at once, all of it tainted with the ugly black sense of watching from the outside. No matter how hard he tries, Lance somehow always manages to be an observer in his own life, cut out from the bulk of the story by everyone who is so much better suited to the roles he so desperately wants to play. How many of his siblings and cousins tell better jokes, cook better meals, craft better stories? Most of them, he thinks. And how many people outstripped him to reach fighter class from the start? Enough that he only made it because Keith flunked out, and chance doesn’t equate to talent. And what about the other paladins?
      Lance forces himself to open his eyes so Blue can’t keep reflecting the worst parts of him, but it’s too late. He loses himself to Pidge’s wild brilliance, Hunk’s endless capacity for friendship, Shiro’s easy leadership. Keith can fly through an asteroid field and make it look like the simplest thing in the universe, and Allura can heave a grown man through a wall, not to mention the fact that she flies a ship bigger than anything Lance has ever dreamed of, doing so with confidence forged of iron and ice. Hell, even Coran has his value in the Castle of Lions, the resident jack-of-all-trades with a lion’s heart. He may not be a paladin, but he could have been. Maybe should be.
      His bayard feels heavy in his pocket, and he is caught between the desire to hurl it across the hangar and the desperate need to cling to it, his lifeline. Without the bayard, what is he? Without Blue?
      Blue. She is still there. Waiting.
      Lance sucks in a haggard breath and closes his fingers around his weapon, scratching his nails into the rubbery black grip. For every nick he finds, he forces himself to hold his breath for five seconds, then exhale for another five. He does this seven times before he thinks that he’s just finding the same flaws over again, and by then, the tears have stopped, replaced by a numbness that blankets his mind, even from Blue. His lion keeps prodding until he finally notices she’s there. Expecting to be let in. Maybe even demanding.
      “So you can show me everything else I’ve done?” he snaps, wishing immediately that he could take it back. Blue would never try to hurt him; it isn’t her fault that she speaks in reflections. She’s merely taking what he provides, seizing on the sights and sounds to make her point. Sometimes, those memories get away from them both.
      As he reaches up to pat her nose in apology, though, it seems she has gotten a much better grip on them. Grip enough to speak.
      This was in you, she says. The words are cobbled together from fragments of his past, each spoken by a different voice. They are simple words, easy to find no matter where inside his head that she looks. We had to talk. I was worried for you.
      “You didn’t have to show me all of...that, though,” he protests.
      Her great mechanical joints click as she fixes him with her glowing eyes. I did. So I could show you why it is all false.
      Though it’s not precisely her tone, borrowed as it is from Lance’s mother, two cousins, Coran, and Iverson, Blue still brooks no argument. Lance can do nothing but accept the scenes she shows him.
      Pidge’s overbite gleams at him first, rapidly hidden by the video game they bought with scavenged fountain money. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t compatible with Altean technology, or that they haven’t figured out how to fix that just yet. What matters is that they spent half an hour splashing around an alien fountain, and ended up with one power glove, one cow, and one desperate need for a change of clothes. Blue loops Pidge’s laugh a couple times for good measure, then points out, You did this. This is happiness.
      In a similar fashion, she returns him to the planet of the mermaids and his adventure with Hunk, followed by their crusade to rescue Yellow from the mining planet, and still after that, she dredges up the Galaxy Garrison, distant as it is. Lance relives the first night that he and Hunk snuck out after curfew, which involved Hunk worrying the entire time that they would be caught, all the way up until they returned without a scratch from making a secret snack run to the nearest convenience store in that godforsaken desert. At the end of the night, clutching a pack of glazed mini donuts to his chest, Hunk had given him the warmest thanks, tearing the plastic wrap to offer him one. That had been the seal on their friendship. An unsanctioned donut run. Lance can’t stop the weak laugh from escaping at that point; how much had they risked just for junk food and a quick flirt with the cashier? Probably too much, but being the master of his impulsivity has never been his strong suit.
      For better or for worse, Blue observes. It goes on this way. For every fault Lance can dream of, Blue can dream bigger and better and kinder. She sees the consequences that span wider than her paladin first realizes, and instead of telling him that he is not this shortcoming or that, she shows him, laying the proof irrefutably at his feet. He is quick on his feet, he is persistent, he is enthusiastic, he is vibrant and clever and passionate.
      Most importantly, she reminds him as his hand nervously seeks out the bayard, the one thing they have not addressed, he is the Blue Paladin of Voltron. He is hers.
      I did not choose you for who you should be. The markings on the cave glow, fresh in his mind as the day he first laid his hands upon them.
      I did not choose you for who you wish to be. The ground crumbles beneath his feet, giving way to water, and with his jacket streaming out behind him, he feels like he’s flying. Like he’s alive. And then there’s Blue’s formidable barrier, impenetrable except all he has to do is knock, say hello, and just like that, she lets him in, claiming him as her own for the first time.
      Do you understand? she asks, releasing him from the chain of memories. I chose you for who you are, and all that you can be. I chose you.
      “And if you chose wrong?” He has to ask. The question escapes before he can even think to bottle it up again, perhaps for the better, given how Blue has taken to his previous attempts at bottling.
      But Blue is gentle, even as her eyes begin to dim, as she powers down for the night once again. I did not. And Lance? His name is a hundred voices all at once, each one of them overflowing with affection. Not just from family, but from friends, too. The other paladins particularly, even Keith. And most startling, his own voice, touched with a hint of flirtatious pride that brings the faint heat of embarrassment to his cheeks.
      “Yeah, Blue?”
      You are not alone. Not now, not ever. Remember that.
      Lance leaves her to rest in the hangar, returning to his room and draping his jacket over the chair. For a heartbeat, he considers sliding under the covers in search of beauty sleep, but he hesitates, staring at the weight hanging from the jacket’s pocket. Then he takes his bayard out and rests it on the desk, positioning it just so. As it deserves. As he deserves.
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