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refriedweeb · 4 years

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LOVE ME WHEN YOUR WRISTS ARE BOUND (18+ SMUT)

A/N: I’ve had a feral-ish predator/prey smut idea roaming around in my head for the past couple of weeks now and I finally figured out a premise for it to exist on which has lead to this sinful post.

Prompt: You’re Pro-Hero Prisma, the name speaking for itself as your quirk is being able to turn yourself and others around you invisible just by touching them. Hawks, your on again off again fling that is far too arrogant for your liking, is sent off to go to a training retreat where you’re there. An old age game of hero and villain tag goes underway...but what happens when the stakes are raised?

word count: 4,957

warnings: rough sex, feral sex, sex.

Your hands smooth back any flyaway hairs that might have come out of your slicked back ponytail. When dressed in your pro-hero costume, you try to remain as sleek as possible. It makes being able to turn yourself invisible far easier when there isn’t as much for you to focus on turning invisible. You’d been in the pro-hero game for a few years now, having your own fair share of rescues and criminal takedowns that has quickly procured you in the top ten heroes. While the listing isn’t as important to you as managing to do the job you’d dreamt of doing since you were a little girl, it is a nice ego booster to know that the public thinks so highly of you. Being able to help people, to bring peace to a troubled community, had done a lot for your confidence and journey of self-love, and you’re in a place of your life where you feel content with things in your personal life the way they are.

When the commission had told you that you would be heading to a resort with a handful of other heroes to get some training out of the way, you were stoked. It wasn’t as much of a vacation as much as it was a chance to reconnect with some pro-heroes and old friends that you didn’t get to see half as often as you would have liked given the demanding nature of your job. You’d packed your bag for the week long course and had jetted off to the foliaged location that kept the exact location of the hero training grounds a secret from any prying criminal eyes. And just as imagined, you got to see plenty of your old friends who were assigned to different distracts of work that you hadn’t since your days at UA.

And then...

“Well, well, well.” There was that infamous drawl that could send shivers down your spine when it was right at your ear. A voice that was so silken and rough around the edges at the same time just earring it sent a spark down your spine no matter how annoying the owner of it was. Son of a bitch. Or in this case, a hawk. “I see they’re just letting any old talent in the resort now.” And as arrogant as ever.

You turned around, your bag bumped against your hip. Hawks somehow managed to look as smug as he ever had, being none too subtle about the way that his body swept over your frame until he was looking you in the eyes. Damn those honey glazed eyes that had always managed to suck out the air in your lungs. But that wasn’t a temptation you were going to give into right now. The last thing Keigo Takami needed was a boost in his ego. You did the same, looking him up and down while you crossed your arms under your bust. “Look who it is, a lost chicken.” Your tone was drenched heavily in sarcasm, not one to have ever backed down from Keigo’s taunting and arrogant status. In response, Keigo stuck his tongue against the corner of his mouth, letting loose a dry chuckle. “You should go back to the city before a fox makes you lunch.”

“So hostile, kid,” Keigo murmured, coming to stand close to you. Close enough that his thigh bumped the edge of your bag and you were glad for that bit of buffer. It’d never been easy to have him close to you. “I’m just here for a little bit of fun.” His eyes dipped over you once more, the sun rising and setting in how he did. Damn him. Finally settling over your lips, Keigo smirked. “Among anything else worthwhile I might find.”

Hawks pushed past you, his shoulder brushing past you. While you’d been able to keep your cool at hearing his voice after months passing since the last time you’d seen one another, the physical contact between you stole a breath from you the moment the electricity crackled from the curve of your arm. You turned after Keigo, mouth hung open, expression narrowed at the audacity of this man.

Damn him. Damn him and everything that he was.

That interaction had been two days ago, and thankfully nothing had happened with Hawks. You were each given your own room to settle in for the next week, and you were living in the lap of luxury. Mount Lady was on the resort with you and you’d been spending most of the group training exercises with her. Strengthening your quirks, decreasing the weaknesses that came with overuse. It was similar to the ones you’d went on as a kid with UA, though this one was far more intense and there was less leniency with messing up as there was when you were still a student. But you didn’t mind. It drove you to be better, to refocus your purpose on why this was your calling. You felt good about the progress you made, the blinding spots and lights that came with overuse of your quirk fading quicker than they had in the past.

And, much to your determination not to give him the damn satisfaction, you’d only been mildly distracted by the bird man who knew how to drive you up a wall. It was hard not to watch him speeding through the air, the way he moved so graceful. Hawks had always been impressive even before he’d become a pain in the ass. His frame was lean, not exactly the type of body that you saw unless it was on a power quirk. But there was hidden strength in muscles that were hardly shown due to the jacket he wore as part of his costume. He was a show off, of course, but it was hard to ignore moving art in the sky.

Today was a different day in the training course, and as the group of pro-heroes lined up outside of a deep foliaged area, you had a twisting sensation in your stomach. This wasn’t going to just be a group training idea, there was something special about this one. And for some reason...your eyes went to Hawks. He was talking to Masaki Mizushima, otherwise known as Manual, when his eyes flickered to you. There was that dangerous curve of a closed-mouth smile that had your eyes snapping away. You chided yourself for even looking.

“Alright heroes,” your attention turned back to the instructor leading your training exercise today. “Today we’re doing capture and releases. You’ll be teamed up with a hero that has a quirk meant to makes yours difficult, and vice versa.” Your eyes widened, that sensation in your gut twisting. Son of a bitch. “This is to help adapt you to situations you’ll be in as pro-heroes where you’re not always the best suited quirk to take on your opponent’s.” The instructor’s voice faded away. This was some sort of karmic punishment for something that you’d done in a past life, you just knew it. You knew who the opposite of your quirk in that line up was, and it’d been the one person that you’d been trying to avoid all week. You listened as the instructor went down who was paired with who, and what role they’d be taking in the touch and go. You were grimacing, knowing what was coming.

“Prisma and Hawks, you’ll be teamed up. Prisma can turn herself invisible and will challenge Hawks to use his vision to the best advantage to spot her through the foliage. Hawks, you’ll be the Hero.” you gave a small groan. “Prisma, you’ll be the villain.” You turned to look at Keigo, letting out a sharp exhale through your nose to see that it was now he who was watching you, that smug expression larger than what it’d been several minutes ago. There was a waggle of his brows as he pushed his goggles over his nose and slapped his headphones on. If you were playing the role of villain through this exercise, it’d only make sense for the character if you killed him, right? Right?

You walked over towards the section of foliage you were assigned for your specific training exercise, Hawks watching you like a starved man as you swaggered over. One of his favorite parts of your body had always been your hips, curved and full, what your mother and grandmother had always stereotyped as ‘birthing hips’. He’d never been able to get enough of it, hands digging in at any given moment the two of you were together. There’d even been a point in time where he’d bit your ass because he’d been unable to help himself. Keigo Takami was a man who knew what he liked and had no problem showing it, and considering that your hero costume was as skin tight as it could possibly be due to your quirk, he was practically drooling. Frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had some part in this.

“Shut up.” Is all you need to say before Keigo chuckles, zipping his mouth shut with his fingers and tossing the key. You know it’s not something that’ll last for long, but it’ll give you enough time to get over the blush you feel at your cheeks and ears.

“Prisma, Hawks. The objective of this training exercise is to exploit your weakness and strengthen it. Hawks, your weakness is that you can fly high up with great speed, but rely on your feathers too much. You’ll be challenged to look with your eyes on something you can’t see. Prisma, your weakness is that the longer you stay invisible, the worse your eyesight gets until you can’t see. You’ll have to focus on using your quirk intermittently with staying out of Hawks’ line of vision from the sky. You have until nightfall to either, as the villain escape, or as the hero apprehend the villain.”

You tip two fingers against your forehead in a lazy salute, sighing as you center yourself on what you’re about to do. Like hell you want to be caught by Hawks, dedicating your focus to avoid getting caught. You want to win, you want to work on straightening the limitation you have on your ability so you can help serve better. The two of you are stood at the entrance to your training area, a thick forest with trees of varying height that are either going to work to your advantage or disadvantage depending on how Hawks uses them. Speaking of the devil...

As your instructor walks away, Keigo comes to stand behind you, leaning forward just enough that he’s not touching you, but you can hear his voice in your ear. That same sarcastic drawl, dripping in arrogance like he’s already won. “How about we raise the stakes, kid?” Your stomach drops lower to the spot between your hips, and your back goes rod straight. “How about if I catch you before you make an escape, I get to fuck you where I find you.”

Your breath caught as the shivers raced up and down your spine. The feeling of Keigo’s fingers whispering against your hips almost enough to make your knees buckle. If there wasn’t a worse person that you could have been paired up with. It had to be the on again off person that you fucked. Your eyes rolled to the sky, taking in a deep breath. “Because you know...” he continued, breath hot against your ear. “I’ve always been a fan of catching prey when they’re on the run.” Your heart is hammering in your throat and you’re sure he can hear it. It’s hard to remember what it is to breathe in that moment, and you almost lean back into his body because, after all, old habits die hard.

“Who says you’re going to catch me?” you ask, turning your head so that you can catch his eye over your shoulder. That feeling hits deep in your belly once more once you see the narrowed slit of his pupil. Usually round, you know this look on Keigo. It’s predator, it’s hunter, it’s Hawks. And you know in that moment you’re going to be fighting more than one enemy in that simulation. It wasn’t just your weakness with your quirk that you were working against. It was your weakness with Keigo Takami as well.

“Because, kid,” Keigo’s eyes drop to your mouth. “I don’t lose.”

Damn.

“Well, Hawks,” you turn to him, taking slow and measured steps back into the foliage that was going to either aid you or ruin you. You made sure to lean into your hip heavily, swaying back and forth that had Hawks’ attention almost immediately. “Catch me if you can.”

And with that, the two of you split your separate ways. Hero and villain. Hawks shot into the sky in a flurry of red wings, and you coated yourself in invisibility as you ran into the foliage, careful not to step too heavily as you darted under the trees. Looking up, it was near impossible to spot Hawks speeding through the sky, dipping down and flying up as he looked for any sight of your impressions on the ground. Your terrain was an uphill one, and soon enough your trek uphill had left you out of breath. You dipped under a tree, letting your invisibility fall as you became visible to the outside world. Except, of course, you were not foolish enough. Keigo’s words in your head were still settled deep within your belly, but you weren’t about to lose just yet. You shed your boots, setting them at the base of a tree before you took coverage in a tree that you climbed. With your eyes turned towards the sky, it’s only a matter of time before Keigo’s wings come into focus, beelining straight for the boots.

He extended a gloved hand as if to grab for the boots and snatch you out, only to stop short and skid along the ground as he realized there was nothing attached to them. “Clever, kid.” He called out, doing a quick swipe around. Luckily, you’d cloaked yourself once more before he’d spotted the tree you were in. That would have been game over, though watching the sweat that clung to his forehead...didn’t seem too bad. You pinched yourself, reminding yourself that you were a villain and it was your objective to get out. “You’re somewhere here, aren’t you?”

But that didn't mean that you couldn’t have a little fun...right? Slowly, carefully, you lowered yourself from the branches you’d been hiding away, wincing at the slight rustle of ground gave in when you hit. Hawks whipped around again, eyes wide, pupils narrowed. “Come on songbird, let me hear you sing.” That static ripped through your belly again, and you took measured steps closer to him. You bent over, cloaking a rock once more before chucking it off on the other side of you that hit a tree. Hawks spun around again, a couple of small red feathers shooting out from his wings to try and pin what he thought was you against a tree. It took everything not to laugh in that moment, looking at how focused he was.

You were doing your best to ignore the feral look in his eyes. How windswept his hair was from his flying. How you knew what Keigo was like when he wanted to win at something. And to see how determined he was when you were the prize. You squeezed your thighs together, rolling your lower lip between your teeth. “What’s the matter, Keigo?” you asked, doing your best to throw off your voice from your current location, slowly edging up the steep incline. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

Hawks shot out from where he’d been, coming for where you’d been only seconds before. You took off running up the hill, ignoring the pain searing through your thighs at just how much you underestimated the sleepiness of the climb. Still, you pushed through it, your vision starting to dizzy as you ran. How long had you and Hawks been at this? It didn’t feel incredibly long, but then again the sun was in a much different positioning than when you’d started, and the sky was starting to turn shades of purple. Almost nightfall. Had the other pro-heroes finished their courses already? Maybe it hadn’t been the wisest decision to take off your boots, either, as you came in contact with a patch of wet mud. Your footing slipped, and with it your invisibility cloaking. A gasp hit you as you saw your hand clear as day, and in that moment you knew you were down for. In a last ditch attempt to redeem yourself, you cloaked back up but the sharp yank to the right as one of Hawks’ feathers tore through your hero costume.

A yelp escaped from your throat as you found yourself pinned to a tree at the nape of the neck, leaving you dangling from the trunk of the tree. With the gig finally up, you dropped your invisibility as you folded your hands under your chest. On one hand, you were pissed you’d been unable to outlast Keigo. On the other hand...you’d been taunting him just moments ago and knew what that did to him. The sound of rustling feathers came and Hawks sauntered around the tree, looking at you with that same infuriating expression from the beginning of the exercise.

“So close too, kid. So close.” He teased, running his tongue over his canine tooth. Keigo came to rest his hips against yours, your mouth dropping open at the presence of him there. It’d been so long since it’d been like between you two, but how could you forget that? “And you would have won, too, except you just had to go on teasing me like that. You know what your teasing does to me, kid. Damn near maddening.” he pulled off his glove with his teeth, coming to grip your jaw. “So damn mad.”

Your eyes widened as he dug his hands into your chin, holding you so tight that you couldn’t look either way. Only at him. Your throat was tight as you swallowed, Keigo continuing on as he pulled your hands apart, using a spare feather to pin your wrists to the bark above you by the fabric of your costume. Keigo, despite his earlier disposition, is serious now. And you know how in trouble you are. You can see it in that narrowed slit of his eyes, the color of the sun burning there. “Can’t let that go, songbird. I’ve gotta remind you not to fuck with me.” He leaned in, the hand that wasn’t gripping your jaw in an iron lock trailing down the curve of your side, coming to thumb the space between your thighs that you’d been ignoring ever since he whispered into your ear down at the base of the mountain. “Gonna have to remind you of that,” Keigo murmured, eyes lowering as he leaned in over you. You could feel the length of him against your thigh, instinctively angling it out so you could feel him closer to your core.

“Keigo-” you gasped as he rolled his hips in against you. “Keigo what if we get caught?” Though by the feeling of his presence, you didn’t know if you’d mind that much if you got your itch scratched.

“And what about it?” he breathed. His thumb slipped over you again, causing you to shudder. “You really think I give a damn who sees me fucking you? Claiming you like the little slut for me you are?” You squirmed against the hand he kept between your thighs, letting out a harsh exhale. “Already so needy for me. I’m starting to think you lost on purpose, kid.”

You opened your eyes, glaring at him. “I lost because I slipped.”

Hawks chuckled, giving a shrug. “If that’s what you wanna say there, kid. All I know is I won...and now I’m claiming my prize.” The static runs straight from your brain to your core, and you let out a whine. Keigo hummed, reaching up behind your back and leaving you with cool air against the heat that had been growing between your thighs as he undid the back of your uniform. “What a fuckin’ prize, huh, kid? I get to ruin this body all over again.”

The feather that had been pinning your wrists together removes itself, reforming to Hawks’ wings as he yanked you around, pressing your face in against the bark. It burned, but it was the furthest thing from your mind as Hawks pushed down the skin tight fabric of your pro-hero costume, his hands finding their way under the fabric and rolling it further and further down until it was just beneath your ass.

You yelped as the sound of a smack sounded through the air, the stinging sensation hitting your backside seconds later. He’d just landed a sharp slap across your ass and you were about to make another comment when another came again, causing you to squirm. “This is what you get for teasin’ me, kid.” he said, and you were able to catch the way that Hawks was leaned back, his eyes dragging down the length of your exposed back and skin. The leather of his gloved hand struck again, causing you to whine. Keigo’s eyes flashed to look up at you, the look there positively feral. You can feel the heat starting to seep through your legs, and that has Hawks’ attention in a matter of seconds. “So filthy, aren’t you? You like it when I slap you on the ass. You want to be punished for being such a filthy little slut,” the slap came again and your groaning, attempting to push your backside in against his hips. “So fuckin’ eager, kid.”

Keigo places his hands on your hips, pulling you back against his hips so you can feel how hard he’s gotten in the time he’s caught you. This is the whole thing. The chase is what excites him and the most and what better example of his highest fantasy is there then getting to chase you through foliage like the bird of prey that he is? And true to his word, he’s going to fuck you as his victory claim. You grind your backside his, angling yourself so that you can feel the full length of him slipping between you. You groan, your head falling back against your shoulders as Keigo realizes this, pushing up into you.

“I wanna hear you beg, kid. Swallow that fuckin’” a sharp slap comes across your behind again. “Cocky attitude you had earlier.” He slaps your backside again, and you can’t fight the moan that escapes you. “Your mind kid, I’m always gonna fuckin’” another slap. “Win.”

At this point you can feel the wetness between your thighs, and your squirming as he rocks his hips back and forth as if he’s already fucking you. “Keigo-” you whine pushing your hands against the tree so you can be flush with his hips. “Please.”

“Please, what?” You hear the sound of his belt coming undone, the buckle slumping.

“Keigo,” you breathe, only to feel that sharp leather across your backside that causes you to cry out.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His voice is hardened as the cock between his legs. The zipper of his pants sounds, and you can feel the rawness of him against your lips. He’s teasing you. He wants you to beg. To ask nicely. “Beg for it, songbird.”

“Please fuck me,” you gasp just as he pushes himself up and down the length of your lips again.

Keigo’s hands find their way to your hips again, fingertips digging in as he lines himself up. “Since you asked so fuckin’ nicely...”

You hold your breath in anticipation. Keigo’s wings puff out on either side of you, providing little coverage for what he’s about to do to you. You catch yourself admiring the beautiful red color of them before he’s slamming his hips in against yours, throwing you forward at the shock and power behind it. The sound of Keigo’s groan behind you turns your knees to putty, almost enough to cause your legs to give out from underneath you. “Ahh, fuck, there it is.” he groans, slowly pulling himself to the edge of his length before slamming back into you with the same intensity. You lurch forward again, hands pressing into the tree in front of you to keep from ramming in against it. “Feel so fuckin’ good, kid.” He fucks into you again, your head dropping to your shoulders once more. Eyes shut, you don’t see Keigo reach out with that gloved hand, and hook two fingers against the side of your mouth.

The sound of skin slapping against skin starts to fill the area between you along with the sounds of Keigo’s breathlessness and the small whines falling from your mouth. Despite his erratic breathing, he’s kept a good pace, your inner thighs positively soaked from what he’s done to you. He’s entranced by the way your skin bounces and moves each time he comes slamming back into you, filling you up with every ounce of his cock. “You like that, songbird, you like how fuckin’” slap “Good I feel inside of you?”

You struggle to answer him, your head wrenched back at an angle with Keigo’s leather wrapped fingers pulling out your cheek. Your legs are shaking, and it’s everything you can do to keep your muscles from collapsing underneath you as he fucks into you, creating a mess of your insides. Finally, you moan as a response, reaching an arm back just to be able to touch him in some respect. Keigo, not the complete asshole, leans forward so that you can grab onto the front of his jacket. The hand he’d been using to steady himself against your hips slips down to your front, massaging at your clit. This sends you into a spasm, wrestling against the overstimulation that your body was currently being sent through, desperately whining as he continues to tap, circle, and stimulate your clit meanwhile continuing the fluid motion of fucking in and out of you.

Keigo’s got the advantage here too, and seeing you struggle against getting him to lay off before you come, only sends him into more of a fury. His thrusts become faster, more erratic. They starting hurting as they hit into you, causing you to moan in pain and pleasure each time. You’re squeezing your legs together, clenching down around him as he fucks in and out of you. Your high is close, and your knees start to falter under you as it does. “K-Kei-” you’re unable to get his name out as another wave of pleasure rolls through you, threatening to push you over the bridge right there as Keigo starts to fuck you even faster, the wetness on your thighs crawling down further.

“You gonna cum, songbird? You gonna cum around this fuckin’ cock just like you always do?” The whine pushes through you as he yanks on your cheek. “Go on then, sing for me, you’re my fuckin’ songbird.”

And with the permission granted, you unravel around his finger and his cock, your legs spasming as you cry out, your inner thighs becoming even wetter than before. Your moan is none too quiet as it rips through you, your back arching as the shivers run up and down your spine once more as you ride out your orgasm. You’re panting, breathless, dripped in sweat, but Keigo isn’t done. “What a good fuckin’ slut, (Y/N).”

You moan as he returns both ands to your hips, spreading you further as he quickens his pace once more. “Gonna fill you up so good, so fuckin’ much.” You whimper as he buries himself in you, his thrusts sloppy and hurried now. He’s close now, and in order to help him reach his own orgasm, you lean back, body flush against his. “Fuck yeah, ah, fuck yeah.” he’s panting in your ear now, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Once you reach back and feel the space under his jacket and shirt where feather meets wing, it’s game over.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum,” his voice is gravely, pained as he loses the last of his momentum. The sound of your moans mingle together as he does just that, spilling himself inside of you. His drip joins the slow race down your thighs, and with one final thrust, empties the rest of himself in the folds of your heaven.

The two of you remain there in silence for a period of time before he pulls out of you, leaving a mess between your lips. You’re immediately on your knees, unable to support yourself anymore from what he’d just done to your insides. Your breathing is still labored, as if you’d just run up and down the mountain without break. Your legs are spent, still riding out the tidal wave that was your orgasm. Behind you, you hear Keigo zipping up his pants, adjusting the buckle.

He looks as spent as you feel, and he pulls his glove on with his teeth as you lock eyes. That feral look is still there, and you doubt you’re done with one another for the night. You sure as hell don’t think you are. “What’s wrong, kid?” Keigo leans over, landing a gloved slap to your ass. “Get up, gotta go tell the instructor what a good hero I was in apprehending such a bad, bad villain.”

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suits-of-woe · 3 years

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can you do a gay two gentlemen of verona?

(aka the post where i try to find some emotional coherence in the worst line in the canon)

well. can you do a gay two gentlemen of verona?

a. yes

b. but should you?

honestly, i'm really not sure. this play is bad. really, really bad. i assume most people reading this post know how it ends, but let's just be crystal clear: (cw rape) proteus, one of our supposed romantic heroes, tries to rape silvia after she rejects his advances. valentine stops him, but after proteus apologizes, valentine, our other hero and silvia's love interest, offers to give silvia to the man who just tried to rape her in an act of friendship.

so no, i don't think this interpretation (or any interpretation) can make that moment okay. even if it somehow could, it's just one moment, and misogyny is baked into almost every part of this play. and no, i absolutely do not mean to suggest that interpreting characters as gay can be used to excuse any of this, or that gayness is somehow an explanation for violent misogyny.

that said, we live in a world where this play exists. people talk about it and write about it and perform it fairly frequently, and since that's not changing any time soon, i do think it can be worthwhile to see what we can do with it. my interest is not in sanitizing anything but in creating some emotional coherence out of something that just feels nonsensical at first glance.

phew. so. can you do a gay two gentlemen of verona? does it actually make the play more compelling? i think it could.

you really don't have to look that far for homoeroticism in this play. i mean jesus, the first line is valentine calling proteus "my loving proteus." we get shit like this, which feels like it's just begging to be played as tender unrequited love:

PRO: [...] If ever danger do environ thee, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

VAL: And on a love-book pray for my success?

PRO: Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee.

individual lines aside, the whole first scene is just...a lot. proteus has clearly been begging valentine not to leave and trying to delay their parting as long as possible. valentine makes it very clear that he wants proteus with him and he wouldn't be leaving without him if it weren't for the fact that proteus is in love. it's all just very...yeah.

so here's the interpretation i think works best: proteus and valentine are in love. they have been for a long time. valentine is aware of it. proteus isn't. he's deep, deep in denial, fixating on julia to avoid the feelings that are harder to acknowledge. and valentine's decided it's finally time to stop waiting around and let go.

so valentine goes to milan. he starts to move on. he finds genuine love with silvia (valentine is definitely bi in this interpretation), and maybe she's not proteus and he's not quite over the situation, but they're good for each other and they're happy. at least, until proteus shows up.

and proteus takes one look at valentine and silvia together and hates it. he's instantly very, very upset by that relationship, even if he can't quite put his finger on why. there's even a line where he wonders if his fixation on silvia is specifically because of the way valentine talks about her:

Is it mine, or Valentine's praise, Her true perfection, or my false transgression, That makes me reasonless to reason thus?

but it's because he loves silvia. obviously. that's the source of that jealousy. no need to investigate that any further.

and valentine is too easily falling back into old habits. we get shit like this from him:

Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, Because thou see'st me dote upon my love.

forgive me that i do not dream on thee? hello?????

meanwhile, proteus is having his own crisis. mostly about how he's betraying both julia and valentine through this, and hm, isn't it weird how those betrayals feel like the exact same thing? i mean

To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn

the exact

Julia I lose and Valentine I lose: If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; If I lose them, thus find I by their loss For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia.

same

I will forget that Julia is alive, Remembering that my love to her is dead; And Valentine I'll hold an enemy, Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend.

THING???

then we get to the part of the play that i think needs the least interpretation, because it's basically just the same. proteus is still proteus and proteus is still awful to everyone around him, just this time with the added context of all those layers of denial. valentine is still devastated to leave silvia, because he does love her, and she's the first positive force in his life in so long, and he was just starting to try to move on.

side note: ymmv with regards to silvia, she doesn't have to be in the know for this interpretation to work, but i think it works better if valentine has confided in her about proteus, at least if we want a chance at an ending that doesn't feel like pure tragedy. she knows what he's going through, knows proteus isn't good for him, and is trying to help him get past that. i think it could make the way she berates proteus for betraying valentine extra compelling, because she knows how desperately valentine cares for this man who didn't think twice before ruining his life.

and then we get to. the scene. proteus, at this point, is desperate and volatile in his obsession with control. he's convinced himself that if he just has silvia, that will be it, and he'll finally be happy. and thank god, thank god valentine is there to stop him. but valentine is also seeing his friend for the first time in a long time, and he still has this weak spot that never fully went away, and even with the absolute horror of the situation, proteus is there and proteus is apologizing and there's still a part of valentine that wants so desperately to forgive him.

Then I am paid; And once again I do receive thee honest. Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased. By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased: And, that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee.

this line can't not be appalling, but this is the only way i can see it making sense to me. it's not an actual offer, it's more just a recognition of how desperate valentine is in this moment, how much he hates himself for still caring after everything. this line spat out through angry tears, as in "fine, fine, take her if you really want her so badly, if she's really the one you care about, because for me it's always been you, so fine, take her if you really just want to take everything from me."

as for the ending, i really don't know. maybe there's a long moment when valentine and proteus hug, or almost kiss, or even just stare at each other, and maybe it seems like proteus finally gets what he's been denying the entire time.

and then proteus' page faints. the moment is broken. and then it all comes out, and face to face with julia, proteus slides right back into that comfortable denial.

i think you could maybe make the valentine/silvia ending work, if you set it up well enough. if she understands what he's been going through the whole time and is willing to forgive him, to try to move on and heal from this man who's hurt them both so much. it's messy and upsetting but maybe it's enough.

on the other hand, though, i don't know how you could preserve that emotional coherence without cutting at least some of the lines from this mess of an ending. i really don't know how you make proteus and julia getting together again anything other than horrifying. maybe you cut that part. maybe you lean into the horror. maybe- WHAT'S THIS? IT'S CRAB WITH A STEEL CHAIR

all that to say, i don't think this (or anything) can really "fix" two gentlemen of verona. and if i'm conveniently disregarding a lot of lines in favour of finding a story that i hate a bit less, well, here we are. but i do think this version could potentially make something compelling out of shakespeare's greatest trainwreck.

#two gentlemen of verona #shakespeare #it's almost 2am and this post is LONG #i've been threatening to subject the internet to this for over a year but max finally gave me an audience for it #sorry for not posting about good plays #and sorry for a billion disclaimers but i want to make it abundantly clear that i am not excusing or condoning *gestures to everything*#rape //#mine #queue stars keep not their motion in one sphere

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gxccistyless · 3 years

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Fine Line: The Divorce Series - Part three.

Here is the last part of fine line - the divorce series. You can read part one here and part two here

I would LOVE to write some one shots based on Harry and Eliza. Feel free to send in requests!!

That night after he left Eliza’s Harry went home and sits in his shower for 45 minutes, he thought about going to the pub and then he thought about going to the liquor store to get a bottle of bourbon to drink it in its entirety all in an attempt to try and forget about the fact that he had just kissed Eliza. Harry decides against it, he calls his sponsor instead, his sponsor came to lend an ear and help him get through the night, without liquor. He and his sponsor had become close, he could trust his sponsor to be there for him without feeling the need to worry about his personal struggles with alcohol being leaked to the press.

Two weeks later he found himself at a social gathering at his sponsors house, a family garden party of sorts, alcohol free of course, and that’s where he first met Olivia Dane. He and Olivia seemed to have an instant connection, no awkward spots in their conversations, no awkward silences where he felt the need to fill time with rambling. Conversation flowed freely. He left that night not having a single drop of alcohol, and with her number in his phone. One week later they were out to dinner ams six weeks after that had her on his arm down the red carpet.

Eliza and Harry never discussed the kiss. For him it was something he was able to freely move passed, for her it was so much more. The kiss lingered on her mind for weeks and weeks she had so many unanswered questions, questions she knew she might never have answers to. The two had reverted back to old ways, going through third parties to organise Harry spending time with Koa and Lennon. Eliza didn’t love the idea of not having any contact with Harry, especially because they had just started going to therapy and she was really hoping that this would be the turning point in their co-parenting attempt. She was happy that their children had their father back though, every child deserves happy and healthy parents was her fundamental belief. That’s truly all she has ever wanted for Harry, for him to be happy and healthy. With Harry out of the picture for her, she spent more time getting closer to her now partner Andrew. She never spoke a word of the kiss.

harrystyles . MINE . LIked by jefezoff, oliviadane and 12,573,399 others. The post took Eliza by surprise. She saw it on a Sunday morning as she was lazing in bed. She wanted to be happy for him, she wanted him to love and to be loved, but she still wanted him to love her. It was selfish of her, and she was aware of this. Selfish because she has and still was seeing someone else, so why shouldn’t he be able to do the same. But that kiss still lingered in the back of her mind.

She would come to find out some hours later that at some point during the day Harry had unfollowed her on all social media platforms. This hurt her more than it should have, Andrew copping the brunt of her anger, leading them to a huge argument where he had accused her of still being in love with Harry. I can’t be in this relationship with you Eliza, this isn’t healthy. You still love him and that’s okay, but let’s be honest here you can’t love him and still have me. He was right. They ended things that night. Harry was thinking about introducing Olivia to his kids. It had been on his mind for a while, probably from the second week he had known her. Him co-parenting with Eliza made it harder for him to see Olivia on weekends. He had just gotten into such a good schedule with having the kids again he didn’t want to cancel visits, but he also didn’t want to lay in bed alone at night when they were asleep. Olivia didn’t fancy children very much, her opinion of children didn’t change just because they were linked to the man she was sleeping with. Harry waited three months before he organised a brunch date where she would meet the children.

Anne had gone to Elizas to pick up the children just as she had been all this time. Koa had fallen ill and Eliza had almost canceled their visit but she had caught wind that the kids would be meeting Olivia and decided against canceling, but packing everything from his prescription medication to his favourite lovey just to be safe, writing out a note giving perfectly clear descriptions about the contents of the bag and their uses. Olivia rolled her eyes and complained about said bag and note she seems so dramatic over a damn cold were her exact words. Harry didn’t say anything in return letting her comment slide. It was moments like this that he would come to later regret, letting things slide was in his opinion the way people got into bad behaviours, but he loved her and didn’t want to royally fuck this day up over a comment before it had even really started. He seemed to think that the brunch went well, Olivia on the other hand was less than enthused. Koa had spilt his yoghurt, Lennon her orange juice, children were crying and there was snot everywhere. Despite her distaste for the children of the man she loved, she smiled through it. But really all she could think about was ways to get Harry to herself next weekend, child (and snot) free. She somehow managed it and the following weekend, an hour before Harry was scheduled to have the kids, he canceled. Something about a surprise weekend in Paris that had been sprung on him at the last minute was the reasoning Eliza had gotten off of Anne.

oliviadane you had me at bonjour ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 5,452 others.

Harry’s visits with the children had become few and far between by late September. Fallon’s anniversary was fast approaching and Eliza was not coping. Anne, who had stayed in contact with her and loved her like a second daughter picked up on it. Eliza was out of sorts, and rightfully so. She had a lot on her plate between the twins and mentally trying to process the upcoming date. Harry on the other hand was off in a different country every week. Brushing off the responsibilities of parenthood had yet again come so easy to him, Eliza wasn’t surprised at this point. Old habits die hard. Anne had let her concerns about Eliza known to Gemma who went to visit to see for herself. Eliza was a mess, Anne had not been lying. Gemma gave Harry and absolute ear bashing on the phone, told him how much of a disappointment he was to her and their mother, how his kids would resent him some day, how he should be ashamed of himself. Gemmas words must have hit a nerve, or at least talked some sense into him. The following week Harry had done a complete 180 again and the visits with the children, much to Olivia’s dismay, were back on schedule.

It started with small incidents at first. Koa coming home crying, Lennon expressing her disinterest in going to her fathers house for weekend visits. The weekend before Fallon’s anniversary was the last straw. Koa was screaming and crying as Anne’s car pulled away from Eliza’s house. Eliza could hear his blood curdling shrieks from down the road as she stood frozen in her driveway watching her babies drive away. She hated sending them to him when they were in such a state but she couldn’t figure out what the sudden change had been, they had always loved spending time with their dad until suddenly the didn’t.

Harry came home from the studio at around lunchtime. His mum had brought the kids some hours earlier and Olivia had been with them for the few hours that they had been there. Harry did not expect to come home to two screaming, crying, hyperventilating children. How long have they been crying? Olivia rolled her eyes and told him they hadn’t shut up since they had gotten there, adding in that they had given her a splitting headache and she was very happy he was home because now they were his problem. Harry knew in that moment that he would have to break up with her. Her small comments about his children and the mother of his children needed to stop, he thought that once she got used to the idea of having the kids around and spending more time with them to get to know them a little better that the comments would stop, but they didn’t. He couldn’t change her, her hatred for children was so deep seeded there was no flipping this situation. He thought that perhaps they could spend one last night together and that he would break it off in the morning once the children had left, but then he noticed the bruises on the children’s arms. When he asked Lennon what had happened she simply pointed to Olivia and that was enough to send him into a fit. Olivia had her bags packed and was out of the house by nightfall.

Elizas doorbell rang at approximately 7.45pm. She found Harry on her doorstep childless. She panicked thinking something had happened to the twins at first and he must have seen it in her face because he just about jumped at the chance to tell her that his mother was watching them. This had been the first time since the kiss that the two had seen each other. She pulls the door open more than it had been and lets him stroll through. She makes him a coffee whilst she makes herself a tea and then he tells her everything. She wants to press charges, to hunt this lady down and give her a bruising. Harry tells her that the children need her to be with them at home and not in a jail cell, she decides for once that Harry may have the better judgement here and settles down with Harry promising to never bring her, or any other woman, around their kids every again. The following weekend, the family of four had an afternoon picnic at Fallon’s grave. It was nothing special, Eliza and Harry both cried the whole time, holding each other extra tight. It had been a rough year for the both of them, they had come so far yet here they found themselves back where they belonged the most... in each other’s arms, surrounded by all their children. With Olivia gone, Koa and Lennon relaxed and seemed to be once again enjoying their time with Harry. Truth be told, she had been enjoying time with Harry too. He became a regular for breakfasts at Eliza’s, and then when the kids were at kindy he became a regular for lunch, and then dinner and then a regular in her bed. This has been over the course of a few months, Eliza made boundaries very early on and part of her stipulations were that they needed to have weekly therapy and not put too much pressure on themselves. In true Harry and Eliza style, the two didn’t take things too slow.

Harry and Eliza remarried in a causal courthouse ceremony in late January, his mum and Gemma were their witnesses. They went to a swanky restaurant to celebrate with the most expensive Sunday roast dinner Harry has ever had in his life. Harry surprised the public with the news, they had somehow managed to keep the rekindling of their relationship under wraps and the media and fans lost their minds in unison. The pair were a hot topic for days.

harrystyles Eliza Ray Styles, I am so lucky that you agreed to marry me twice in one lifetime. I don’t deserve you, but I will love you until the day I die. Love you, wife. Liked by elizastyles, annetwist and 32,763,278 others. A few weeks later, it was their turn to be surprised with news that they were once again expecting. Both Harry and Eliza were secretly relieved to only see one baby on the screen at the first appointment. Eliza decided to keep this pregnancy to herself, Harry had no tours and no press junkets and no radio interviews and the pair were both able to fully enjoy the pregnancy. Eliza went into labour in the early out of October 3rd, what would have been Fallon’s 6th birthday, and gave birth and home in the water just six hours later. They once again found themselves trending for days after the announcement of the birth of their son.

elizastyles for the last nine months, we have been holding the news of this little blessing very close to our hearts. One month ago, Jairus Cohen Styles arrived three weeks early, happy and healthy, and shares a birthday with his Angel sister Fallon Noel. Our family is complete. We are both tired and in love ❤️ Liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 7,625,618 others.

#Harry styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #hs2 #harry styles tpwk #harry styles fine line #fine line

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haliyam · 3 years

Text

interim (ii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 3

Hi again! I forgot to note in the first chapter that Reader here is 19 years old, while Zeke is 25. (Clearly, before the developments of this story, there was nothing but friendship there.) For the other Warriors, I put Pieck at 19 as well, while Porco is Reiner's age (around 17/18 that year). Marcel would have been the same age as Pieck and Reader in my headcanon. If you're not comfortable with the age difference, I understand.

Also, about university here so you don't get confused this chapter - I lifted the medical school system for Marley from Germany's current system where after a competitive state exam post-high school, students are able to head straight for medical school for a 6-year track followed by specialization.

Reminder that the Reader/OC, default name Lucy, is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

Chapter 2

You don’t even get a moment to breathe. General List launches into a speech about the nerve of other so-called nations almost as soon as you sit down. Apparently, those in the Mid East peninsula have grown considerably bold over the last few months, with several navy ships withdrawing from the port of Ichakar and transferring, presumably, to Qali - which gives them a better angle from which to attack the mainland if they so wish it. They’ve also fortified their borders—ground troops distributed across the land close to Marley’s newly acquired cities—which is of course the sovereign right of those nations, but it’s blasphemy to the regime’s unending ambition.

You wish they had given you a brief with all this information before the meeting, the kind you have seen Willy and father poring over in their office in the past, but you get the feeling that the general is unloading information on you with the intent to overwhelm.

“On the diplomatic front,” he continues with a hint of mockery, because of course he thinks of such things as futile, “they have been making demands. Asking that we keep to our waters when it is they who have encroached upon ours! The audacity—the delineation clearly states—” He continues to ramble until he is red in the face, but your neutral expression must slip into a wide-eyed look at some point, because he regains his composure with a visible wrinkle of his nose. “This arrogance can only mean one thing.”

He stares at you, and you realize he is expecting you to answer. You feel all eyes at the table on you, the Commander’s especially, and clear your throat. “...Weapons research, Sir?”

“Weapons development, Miss Tybur,” he corrects you. “Advanced and more prolific than we may have considered.”

He pauses, and you can’t help but speak. You can tell Magath knows it because he sits up straighter somehow, and in a moment of rebellion, you refuse to recognize the caution in his posture. “With all due respect, Sir, the… armaments race among the other nations is no secret, and on Eldian labor, no less.”

A fist slamming on the desk causes everyone around it to jump in their seats. “It’s what Eldians deserve!” the general next to List says, so naturally that he might have been born saying it. You blink, the heat of embarrassment and indignation crawling up your neck, but it’s only with List’s raised hand that the man remembers that the white band on your left arm is only for show. He glances away. “Present company excluded, of course.”

With the exception of his hand, List continues as though neither of you ever interrupted him. “And now, to the point. We need further information on the status of this little race. That is where you come in, Miss Tybur. You will use your family’s connections to enter the peninsula with our people - the peninsula and beyond, as the exact lay of their operations lies beyond our ken - and retrieve this information.”

It’s one thing to predict a general’s words and another to be confronted with them. You suppose you were still hoping he wouldn’t say it. “General List, are you saying you want a Tybur to be a spy?”

List glances over at Magath. “They were trained for interrogation, weren’t they?” Your old instructor is barely able to nod before the general recalls to you, “Ah, yes, I read the file. You withstood all but the final test. A failure then, but rather more a fluke, in my opinion. An irreplicable circumstance.”

You don’t say anything. You would rather not remember that night. Or that particular moment.

He takes your silence for agreement. “And so I answer, why not? You became a Warrior candidate - unprecedented initiative and involvement by the Tybur family. Why should this be any different?”

“Because—” Because becoming a Warrior isn’t a choice a child makes of their own free will, not really, but a Tybur doesn’t question the decisions of the former head of the family, of father, before all these strangers. No matter that they were loyal to him. You purse your lips. “Sir, I just don’t believe I’m the right person for this.”

“Your file did say you were always hasty, Miss Tybur,” List says, and you both glance at Magath at that. He doesn’t nod, only meets your gazes. He seems as trapped in this as you are, which makes your resentment for him ebb only slightly. “But you should know better now.”

Now you’re getting irritated. The temper that was your closest companion in your early childhood, and then your early adolescence seizes your fist under the table as List continues. “How goes Foundation operations?”

The Tybur Family Foundation. Set up by Walter Tybur when he first became head of the family and operated by the eponymous Tyburs - most often chaired by the spouse of whoever leads it. Your mother first, once, when she cared to, and now Mila. It provides healthcare and educational opportunities for ‘peoples once oppressed by the Eldian Empire,’ as part of continuing reparations for sins the Tybur family did not commit. Or so they say. Many of its employees now are Eldian, part of Willy’s initiative to improve Eldian relations… but in reality it does little when the Foundation is only a grantmaking organization.

“Well enough, Sir.”

“Is that so? From what I hear, the Foundation is unable to set up even offices in several countries in spite of the family’s stellar international relations.”

“And,” you add carefully, “if they ever catch wind of my close involvement with the regime even after all this time, that will not improve.”

“Clearly, Miss Tybur.” His level gaze shifts to patronizing in all the ways you hate. “But say you become more independent. Distance yourself from the military that leads our fine motherland… Say,” he smiles, “that you make overtures of dissatisfaction with Marley’s cruel expansionist policies and express the utmost sympathy for other nations. Perhaps then they will permit you to expand your operations within their borders.”

Your jaw almost drops at the very suggestion. You’ve always thought, since Willy became Lord Tybur, that only the Tyburs have the power to change the direction of Marley. For obvious reasons, not so obvious to the rest of the world, but also for the heritage you represent. If the Tybur family can be good Eldians, why can they not be only one of many good Eldians? Why not introduce the concept that any Eldian can be good, as any other race of people?

“You…” You rein in your reaction even as your imagination sets off in the direction List has set it—and far more. Especially the part where the Tybur family spreads the good name of Eldians throughout the world. No more ‘special’ treatment, no more interment zones…

No more Warriors.

Maybe. If Marley gets what it wants.

You would allow that? was your question. But the answer, you understand suddenly, is that they would allow perhaps the chance of it, in exchange for Marley’s continued expansion using Eldian bodies on the front lines. A slim chance of sparing Eldian lives for the certainty of losing them. You feel lightheaded just considering it. You want to help, but you are the last person who should hold so many lives in her hands.

Your eyes refocus on General List. A pleased smile brims beneath his well-trimmed beard, like he’s already read your mind. But he can’t know—you’ve shared your thoughts with no one but Willy and Lara, who have been as dismissive as they have been receptive. In other words, as though you’re still the child father sent away thirteen years ago they expect will eventually forget all her questions.

“Does Lord Tybur know about this, Sir?” You eye the intelligence officer not far from List.

List clears his throat. “Not as yet. Lord Tybur might be more receptive to such a scheme were his sister to present it to him herself. We are aware that Lady Tybur chairs the Foundation. Her movements are conservative, but she may agree to a more generous, active Foundation on your word.”

Scheme. That’s what it is, but that isn’t what really catches your attention. Willy and Mila, listening to you? You want to burst into laughter, tell them that they have severely misunderstood the dynamics of the Tybur family. But that intelligence officer is here, which makes you think List is lying.

“Why not ask Lady Tybur to head the operation?”

“Lord Tybur would never allow us to risk his wife,” List laughs. The implication of his words is hardly lost on you, but the general tempers his mockery with a compliment. “And we believe a new, younger face for the Foundation - perhaps one our enemies believe to be foolishly idealistic - will better suit it.”

Foolishly idealistic. Like the sort of person who would agree to this plan. Your face doesn’t fall, but your eyes do - toward the table, the way the fingers of each general drum against the wood. Magath’s hands clasp each other, firm as ever. When you look up to List again, you frown.

“Sir, you know that I’ve returned to Liberio to enter the university’s medical program.”

“Yes, yes, we were quite impressed when we learned of your state exam results, Miss Tybur,” List waves, impatient. He’s been relaxed back against his chair, but now that his certainty is dwindling, he leans forward on the table. “But think. Look at the bigger picture. As a physician you may help a man in need one after the other - years and years down the line. Six years at the shortest, and if you mean to be a specialist, how much longer? But with the Foundation’s resources, and with our backing at that, you will aid hundreds, thousands - and the motherland most importantly. Within the year. Half, if we move quickly.”

You bite your lip. You want it and you don’t. The Tyburs must do something, or else we are nothing were your exact words to Willy before. But the idea of retaking your name when you have only just arrived here nauseates you, and assisting the expansion, the destruction, under the guise of aid more so.

“I… would like time to give this some thought, Sir.”

A sigh seems to echo around the room, but it’s only all the men with you and their exasperation. Only Magath is expressionless as List visibly bites his tongue. He gives the commander a glare for good measure, as though it’s his fault you did not agree at once. “Very well,” he says. “But know that prolonging this will only bring harm to the motherland.”

You only nod. Much as you would like to have it, you have no intention of getting the last word here. You avert your gaze from the Commander when you permit the men to leave the room ahead of you.

It seems like the start of a rather miserable day - you’re practically scheduled to overthink all this some time this week, if not this afternoon - when, once the steady march of power has cleared from the hallway, Pieck meets you as you step out of the conference room.

“Boo.”

Your hand flies over your chest, but it’s a chuckle that comes out of you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“So I’ve been told.” She peeks into the room behind you right as you close the doors. “The brass did not look pleased.”

You wince. “I gave them no reason to be. I hate to get the Commander in trouble, but...” You trail off. You both know you can’t say much more.

It’s Pieck’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“...Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” she shrugs. “I came here for lunch, not information.”

You doubt she knows the extent of the Tyburs’ relationship with the regime, but you can always trust Pieck to know not to pry. “You know, I remember now why you’re my favorite Warrior.”

“Oh?” Pieck grins. “Not the Boy Wonder?”

“Boy Wonder,” you repeat, the way the two of you always have when that name comes up - with a snicker and definitely with no one else around. You’ll never understand how the brass can say it with such straight faces. “So how about that meal?”

She pinches at the skin of your elbow through your sleeve. “Changing the subject doesn’t work on me, you know.”

You sigh. “Can we please eat first? I’m miserable enough without an empty stomach.”

“I guess some things don’t change.”

“Hey!” You half-scoff, half-laugh. With a wink, Pieck slips her arm around yours, and you start down the hallway in companionable silence.

Or you would, if you didn’t know that you owe her a little more than that. Reaching over to rest your free hand over the arm linked with yours, you look at her. “I’m sorry, Pieck. I really am.”

Pieck waits a moment, and then meets your gaze. She searches yours for the lie, but she already knows it won’t be there. You always were too candid for your own good. With a squeeze at your hand, she nods. “I know. Tell me all about it after that meal. Your treat, right?”

You blink, and then laugh with shaking relief. “Of course.”

You and Pieck fall back into the easy rapport you’ve shared since you became friends more than a decade ago. Contrary to her words, she doesn’t press you for answers as you decide on where to eat in the zone. For old times’ sake, you agree on the sandwich place two blocks from the Yeagers’, and you end up sharing a meal in your bedroom.

Sitting on your bed together, legs dangling over one edge as you nip at your food, you finally work up the courage to speak through your guilt and explain yourself and the past five years—or most of it. And of course Pieck is understanding, which makes you feel even more pathetic. True to form, she picks that up as well and gracefully changes the subject.

You’re the one who brings it back to what still hangs in the air over you when you’ve finished eating. Nothing personal—but though Marcel was the only one with whom you were ever close friends with, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were your teammates too. You’d suffered your superiors together during training, and you’d been there for each of their first transformations. For all the experiments too; even their first assault mission.

“What happened?”

Propped up on one elbow, Pieck is lying on her side, legs tucked under her skirt as you set aside your trash. She accepts the glass you hand her from the table, eyes distant. “Zeke hasn’t told you?”

“Zeke won’t look at me unless he absolutely has to. You know how he is.”

Pieck groans. She knows. “He was so irritating after you stopped writing.”

You click your teeth in a wince. “Really?”

“Imagine, Lucy—after you all left, I was stuck with him and Porco. The abandonment issues didn’t just double, they were exponential. Multiply that with the ego and the sarcasm? The Commander was my favorite person those days.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I am so sorry, Pieck.”

“You should be,” she grumbles, but the remark is softened with a grin. When you grimace, she braces herself with a deep breath.

She tells you everything, or most of it: that the people of Paradis were shocked to find others alive outside of the walls, what Reiner and Bertholdt and Annie went through the past so many years, how the latter were captured—and exactly what happened to Marcel. She saves that one for last, and though you are infinitely more curious about the world behind the coward king’s walls, you reach for her hand again.

“I’m sorry, Pieck.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to make apologies all day, you know.”

“Don’t I?” you grin, embarrassed, teeth gritted even when your feigned mirth starts to droop. The dreamy way she speaks throws others off, but you know Pieck. She’s always been the most pragmatic of the Warriors and so she must feel silly, thinking about what could have been, had Marcel returned. Would a childhood crush have become something more between them if things were different? He had promised his family, and her specifically, that he would come home after saving the world. The thought, the regret for a chance not even yours gone, has a weight settling in your throat too.

You clear it and huff. “Well, it’s a great loss. I think everyone was a little in love with Marcel.”

Pieck glances at you.

“...Except Annie,” you add.

The sudden exemption makes Pieck choke with laughter, with tears not far behind. “Except Annie. Of course.”

You giggle, and both of you pretend not to see each other wiping your own eyes. “You know. Annie was always the toughest among us.” You pause. “Is. She is.” When Pieck’s laughter gives way to somber agreement, you ask, “What about Reiner? What has he said? I know what he’s said, but… two weeks of debriefing… it sounds like a little much.”

“He was there for years,” Pieck shakes her head. “He grew up there, Lucy. He’s… completely different now. Kind of like you.”

“I think that’s giving me a little too much credit.” You haven’t done anything remotely in the way of serving the motherland; not that you begrudge the others that the way you once did. “All I’ve done is see things and get upset. Until I can get my degree, and then until I can get the War Hammer, there’s nothing I can do.”

That’s a lie. There is apparently the Foundation—but the idea of directly assisting the regime in its efforts is something you cannot consider as you are.

“If you do become a doctor, will they let you have the War Hammer?”

You bite your lip. If only for Lara, you’re still bitter about that. “What was it all for otherwise? Though… I guess if I had inherited it then, there’s no way I’d ever be able to come back and see you all except under specific circumstances. Much less be permitted to study.”

Pieck only sighs, reaching for your hand. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. And when I think about it… a part of me is glad Marcel didn’t have to see all of what Marley has done. What we had to do in Paradis—and I only saw a speck.”

You know what the others did, but Zeke and Pieck’s involvement apart from retrieving your old comrades is still vague.

You squeeze her hand reassuringly, but you can’t help it. “What did you have to do?”

“What we’ve always had to,” she answers with a faint smile. Your friends always had tells when they would rather not say more, and this is unmistakably hers. Given your earlier explanation, you understand why. She intertwines your fingers with gratitude at your silence.

“So,” you start after a while, “how about some dessert before I walk you back to HQ?”

“Sure. I might as well treat myself a little before we have to head out to the mountains again.” At your questioning gaze, she says, “Training with the Panzer Unit. That’s what all the paperwork was for.”

“Gross.”

She chuckles. “That’s exactly what Zeke says.”

Your face falls at the mention of him. Relieved as you are with your progress with Pieck, Zeke is an entirely different ball game. You hate that that’s the phrase you even thought of.

“You know what?” Pieck sits up smacks her hands on her lap. “I’ll treat you, too.”

You perk up. “Really?”

“For a price.”

“...What’s that?”

“Talk to Zeke already. If I come back after a month to your gloomy faces still, I’m going to go crazy.”

“It’s only been a day,” you mutter. “And I’ve tried to apologize to him.”

Pieck gives you a knowing look.

“I did,” you insist helplessly, but you both know that’s probably a lie. In Pieck’s case. You know it is absolutely false: when Zeke came upstairs after dish duty, quietly closing the door to his room, you stepped out of yours and stood outside in the hallway, your hand raised to knock on his door. You just couldn’t do it. You can take Porco’s jabs any day, but last night, the thought of Zeke and his silence, or worse, his caustic cheer, sent you scurrying back to your room.

You sigh. “Fine.”

Amused, Pieck gets to her feet for the opportunity to loom akimbo over you. “Good. And if you start to lose heart, try to remember that six-year old who used to glare at Magath like she had nothing to lose. That girl had guts.”

“You mean the half-dead one who wasn’t allowed dinner and got a Warrior class’s worth of cleanup duty alone, whom you specifically told to get over herself if she didn’t want to actually die a few months into training?”

“Exactly. What is Zeke going to do? Tell you to go to your room without dinner?”

Maybe. You sigh. “Sometimes I don’t like it when you’re right.”

Pieck grins. “And when Zeke gets over himself—maybe he’ll tell you about his brother.”

Your shock would be better illustrated in this moment were you sipping a drink you could spit in her face. “His what?”

“Shh. I don’t think he’s told the Yeagers. I think… he only told Magath because I was there when he discovered it. Still,” she says when your eyes remain wide and expectant, “it’s not my place to say. So talk to him.”

Medicine is one of the few fields for which Eldians are permitted to pursue higher education. It’s only logical—there are only a few non-Eldians who care to treat pig-blooded devils, and the efforts of those who do are wasted on said filth. And so the regime allows the admission of more Eldians than often permitted under quotas for other majors, even if the number does remain small regardless.

After parting ways with Pieck, you find yourself standing in line in some administrative building in the University of Liberio in the midday heat of summer. The line stretches outside because this is the queue for Eldian students wishing to confirm their intention to enroll over a month from now. That’s all—you need only submit a form and pay a fee, and the line for non-Eldians students has long finished—but of course the line has barely moved for your kind.

You’re clutching your envelope and your permit to your chest, which you quickly realize is a terrible idea. Sweat is starting to trickle down the nape of your neck, and you start to fan yourself with the envelope. Talking to the other applicants in line is prohibited - you must be spaced far from one another so as not to make noise and distract students who actually deserve to be here.

It’s ridiculous. You can’t even leave the line because saving spots is prohibited. Something about being fair.

The frustration crawls up your neck in the form of prickling heat, and you feel a headache coming. You fan yourself more vigorously, trying to calm down. It takes a minute, but the background buzz eventually starts to soothe you, and you begin to accept that you can simply return to the Yeagers’ and change as soon as this is over. The glares your line receives from passing students and the guards watching you, ensuring none of you causes a ruckus (as if any Eldian would dare), fade under the memory of your childhood. You withstood it before, with Magath and the other drill instructors screaming in your face. You can ignore a few nasty looks.

With that as a frame of reference, the line is even almost... peaceful. The heat is dry, not humid, there’s no mud, no blisters in your feet, no rucksack weighing you down, and no rifle either.

Only the sudden rustle of paper as it slips from your thumb interrupts that peace.

“No!” you gasp, watching your permit flutter closer to a guard with his back turned.

Just then a hand swoops in to save it - its owner bent forward, dark hair falling over his face until he rights himself, permit in hand, and glances around. You sigh in relief when you spot the band around his arm and wave him over.

He jogs over to you, hand already extended with the permit. “Confirming your slot for the medical school?” he asks, brushing away the bangs that fall over his face. He’s got the slightest stubble around his jaw, which he brushes his fingers over when he notices you looking.

You meet his gaze when you notice you’re looking. “Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. He smiles at once, as if he can tell you’re embarrassed, but he only casts a glance at the line behind and ahead of you. “It was a lot worse during my time. They had us looping around the gate.”

“Ugh, really?”

He nods, but swallows down his grimace to lick his lips. “I’ve… never seen you around the zone before.”

You blink. Smile a little as you glance around the line. “You know everyone in the zone?”

He opens his mouth to respond with a sheepish grin that makes his eyes twinkle when movement behind him catches your peripheral vision. One of the guards watching the line has noticed him and is stomping his way over. Noticing your alarm, he sticks out a hand. “I’m Kellan, by the way.”

“Lucy. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lucy,” he repeats, and you’re barely able to shake his hand when the guard yanks him back.

“Damn pig’s blood—!”

“I’m going, sir. Sorry,” says Kellan, ending the apology with his eyes on you even as he winces from the shorter man’s grip. When he’s eventually released, he ducks away and walks off. He glances over his shoulder to wave, but another guard keeps him moving with a shove.

The shorter one glares at you when he’s gone, and though you remember Pieck’s words, you know this isn’t the time or the place.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes to the ground as you turn ahead. Once he’s assured of your submission, he leaves too.

The line takes longer than you expect, but you survive the sweltering heat and submit your form just before the offices close. You hurry back to the zone afterward, dropping by the Galliard bakery to call on Mr. and Mrs. Galliard and offer your condolences. They are shocked but overjoyed to see you, and insist that you take your old favorites when they discover that you’ll be dropping in on Mr. Finger afterward.

You don’t stay long, though Mr. Finger is pleased about your choice of future employment. You feel even guiltier at the unspoken regret in his smile, and beg him not to mention it when he tries to thank you for the support the Tybur family has sent the Fingers over the years—the one thing you think Willy has ever done right.

You return to the Yeagers before dark, early enough to help Mrs. Yeager start with dinner. Dr. Yeager is apologetic as always, but you’re able to change the subject by serving the blueberry pie from the Galliards for a mid-meal dessert of sorts, and the dinner table relaxes soon after. Zeke is absent - he still hasn’t come home from work - so you make sure to leave some for him. This time, Mrs. Yeager allows you to take over cleanup, and the couple retires to their bedroom once the conversation fades into a comfortable silence.

You hope to meet Zeke right as he arrives, corner him into talking to you somehow unless he decides to miss dinner himself, but after half an hour of sitting at the dinner table, cleaning anything you might have missed in the kitchen and the dining room, and rearranging anything out of place in the living room, it starts to look like he won’t be coming anytime soon.

That’s fine, you tell yourself. You feel slimy from being out in the sun all afternoon anyway, and you treat yourself to a relaxing bath. Zeke is still away when you return to your room, and the calming warmth of your evening has you yawning. You have no choice but to change into your pajamas.

In truth, you’re a little relieved. Not that you’re particularly answerable to Pieck anyway, at least not until she finishes training with the Panzer Unit, but it won’t be your fault that you and Zeke weren’t able to talk tonight. But just to feel as though you’ve tried your very best, you keep yourself up by starting to write to Lara—and then regret your principle when you hear heavy footsteps outside and a soft click of the door across yours.

The word you’re writing skitters off to the edge of the paper in your surprise. Your heartbeat invades the tense silence of your room, but you manage to take a deep breath, folding your unfinished letter and slipping it under the paperweight on your desk.

Your door is your next obstacle.

Overlapping images of how Zeke will surely reject you race through your mind alongside the words you wish you could say, and you’re able to keep up with about... none of them. You thought that the words would come to you, and maybe they will, but the moment is about to come and you can’t think of a single word to say.

If you have time to worry, you have time to just get over there and do it, you tell yourself. You shake your head, regretting your own harshness, but also nod as you hastily gulp down the glass of water on your bedside table. Those words in mind, you move, switching one door for another. No longer standing nose-to-panel with your bedroom door, you’re doing it with Zeke’s in the hallway instead.

Hand raised to knock, you eye the light peeking out from the gap beneath the door. Knock. Just knock. The worst he can do is turn you away, and you’ll probably want to wriggle under the dirt and cry, but you’ll at least have tried. You owe it to him to try, like you did with Pieck, and you know you’re braver than this. Or you were, once upon a time.

If you’re still the same girl from years ago, you don’t get to find out just yet.

You hear his footsteps coming from the bathroom too late. No, it’s the heat of another and the familiar scent of his soap which alert you to his presence.

That and his voice, still too deep for the older boy you remember. “Aren’t you a little too old to still be knocking on my door at night?”

“Zeke,” you say, trying to pull your heart down from your throat before you turn and meet his flat expression. He’s in pajamas himself, his hair damp. You must not have heard him head for the bathroom you share down the hall. “Hi.”

That’s more than your mind could summon a while ago, but you still want to smack yourself.

His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. His jaw shifts even as his pale eyes stare down at you in the dim light, as if deciding what to do with you... and then he sighs. He’s too tired to be glib tonight. “Can I help you, Lucy?”

Your lips purse with trepidation, but you stand your ground. “Can we talk?”

He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Looking down at you is clearly work. “I’m listening.”

You hesitate, trying not to make another face. It seems to come naturally with Zeke around, but you resist the urge, and instead tilt your head to the side. There is no light coming from the master bedroom down the length of the hallway. When you glance back up at Zeke, you give him a pointed look.

Zeke sighs again, and then… decides to just brush past you to grab his doorknob.

Your stomach twists with both disappointment and pique. “Zeke,” you whisper furiously, barely just stomping your foot.

He whips his head to face you, halfway inside already. “What?” he whispers back, like you’re nagging him. Then he rolls his eyes, swinging his door wide open and backing into it to give you room.

“Get in.”

Sorry for the dearth of Zeke moments this chapter, but the next one will mooostly feature him and yes we'll finally find out why Zeke is upset. I used to write very long chapters with fics, but that really exhausted me so I'm trying to write shorter now to keep myself from burning out. But I'm enjoying writing in 2nd person! I never used to do it because it was frowned upon long ago, and possibly still is now? But idc anymore it's fun to try.

Thank you for reading!

#zeke x reader #zeke x oc #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x oc #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke jaeger x oc #aot #snk #aot fic #aot fanfic #haliyam #interim #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #snk fanfic

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sarunohadaki · 3 years

Text

DQXI/Octopath Traveler Crossover

Crossover week: Home | 1 | 2 | 3| 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Anyone call for a story idea with just character roles planned but no plot? Oh boy do I have the post for you! I’ve only played through chapter 2 of Octopath but from how things are going I have a few ideas for plotlines… on the whole, however, this post outlines each of the characters and their backstories.

Character descriptions under the cut because it’s long! Mentions of a character who's deaf, another character who's trans, and another character with DID.

I’ve been loving Octopath Traveler, but if there’s one thing I had to nitpick, it’s that there’s not enough moments woven in between all the characters! There’s a “travel banter” feature that covers the thinnest bases, where at some points in the game, the option for travel banter will appear on your screen and you can select it to see two characters have a short conversation. You have no choice in which characters talk to which, and you can’t go to that chat feature whenever. Also, let’s say you’re doing someone’s storyline. The other characters don’t talk in other’s cutscenes!

It sort of feels like there are eight games in one when you format the game that way. It's a little… disjointed.

Premise: Another fusion fic where the eight characters in Octopath are swapped for the team in DQXI (plus Gemma). Each character can still have their own backstories and subplots, but I am hankering hard for an overarching plot and antagonist. Maybe there’s, like, an evil League of Villains or some cult. Shouldn’t be too hard to find a place to slot that in, right?

Just like in the game, you stick to one character’s perspective and travel around to pick up the rest of your team, only in this fic, there’s varying dynamics between all the characters and oh boy it’d be prominent.

Characters

H’aanit ➡ Elimelech (El)

The Hunter

Born deaf, Elimelech hunts with his wolf companion and a quiver on his back. Despite appearances, El is not one to be underestimated; he is the pride of his village, which has recently celebrated his rite to adulthood. However, with adulthood comes an unexpected discovery, one which spurs him to leave the village in search of answers to his true heritage.

A literal strong, silent type. But has his shy moments, too. I can imagine you having to tap his shoulder to get him to see you talking to him sometimes, and he has this cute, brief look of curiosity on his face… 🥺

Similar to how H’aanit spoke in Middle and Old English, I think sign language would be interpreted the same way in this world. So everyone’s comprehension of SL is good, signing back… maybe not so good.

Animal companion (Sandy but beefed up into a wolf) would help him interact with the world, or at least keep him out of trouble.

Therion ➡ Erik

The Thief

Like the muck wiped off someone’s shoe, Erik’s not much wanted in most places, but luckily not thought about, either, which helps when he’s stealing coin purses. After a heist goes wrong, he’s tasked with retrieving priceless heirlooms to get back something important.

Does Derk fit well as replacement for Therion’s best buddy? (Sure?)

Therion was apparently well-known despite no one knowing what he looked like. Maybe I can make the opposite work for Erik.

The whole thing with Therion was getting a silver band off his wrist but I still like Erik’s canon plot more, so I’d find a way to shove that in.

Tressa ➡ Gemma

The Merchant

An ambitious and overly friendly adventure wannabe, Gemma uses an anonymous journal as her guide to the wonderful — and perilous — world beneath her feet.

Original plot for Tressa tracks fine, although wouldn’t it be cool if Gemma’s journal were written by Sudo Nim??

Old Dragon Quest had merchant classes, too. Wonder if there’s anything in those mechanics I could add to this fic.

Gemma and El hit it off right away and converse excitedly about everything from cuisine to cute boys. Though… no one tells Erik, who thinks they’re crushing on each other. (love triangle that really isn’t, haha!)

Cyrus ➡ Rab

The Scholar

Newly retired and looking for a new purpose in life, Rab decides to answer a decade-old mystery. While scholarly work has always been a hobby for him, he’s prepared to get to the bottom of this puzzle and hone his analytical skills in the process.

Definitely NOT following Cyrus’s plotline here

I could still have fired Rab (similar to Cyrus) and claimed workplace discrimination, but I like my alternative: “Rab was the head of a royal estate but got bored and ‘quit,’ putting someone else in charge so he could go fart off elsewhere.”

Is Rab related to El in this??? He could be. (Sercretly.)

Alfyn �� Sylvia

The Performer

A talented performer with an elusive path, Sylvia has called many places home. Following in the path of a traveler who once changed her life, she sets out to bring smiles to people’s faces and avoid the roots of a past that refuses to leave her alone.

Alfyn was last on the list when I was doing matching so sorry Sylv that you got matched with this backstory. But I can adjust it to make it work

Sylvia and Alfyn both have the goal of cheering up sick kids and ya know I think Sylv could learn some healing stuff along the way! She’s much more than just a pretty face, you know.

Someone from Sylvia’s path definitely shows up again and that will be trouble for her

Primrose ➡ Jade

The Dancer

Jade’s patience and sharp mind have sustained her through years of hard living, although it is all worth it when she finds her chance to exact revenge upon those who killed her father.

— Pretty straightforward, can take a lot from Octopath’s plot for this one.

— Hard decision of whether to somehow incorporate this into Hendrik’s storyline or make Jade’s father and the king Hendrik serves two completely different people

Olberic ➡ Hendrik

The Warrior

An erstwhile knight of a fallen kingdom, Hendrik melts into life in a quiet mountain village until word comes of a former comrade who’d turned traitor and killed their liege.

Jasper is the traitor, obviously!

As for their slain liege… can it really be Carnelian again when that’s Jade’s storyline? Like a plot twist that they were both following the same guy this whole time? Probably not. Probably needs to be someone different. Or Carny can just be twice as dead.

Ophilia ➡ Serenica (Serena and Veronica)

The Cleric

A level-headed cleric, Serenica serves the faith alongside her adoptive family. She takes up the torch to fulfil a traditional pilgrimage to rekindle light across the realm.

This one is complicated and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it yet

I wanted Veronica and Serena to both inhabit the same body and considered them having Dissociative Identity Disorder. I am very not sure about this. If I do it that way, I’d want to do it properly, with a sensitivity reader, research, etc. Because being respectful is Cool.

(P.s. There was fanart but someone (me) misplaced the art and never took photos of it???)

#Crossover Week #my fic ideas #my writing #Octopath Traveler #dqxi #deaf character #dissociative identity disorder #trans character #character with DID #why am i nervous hahah...

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

And Baby Makes Seven (10/?)

Things don’t always go as planned. Faced with an unexpected pregnancy, James and Rose have to work quickly to get everything prepared for their fifth child, and to prepare their eldest children for a new addition to the family. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: teen, 5200 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 7.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Now that Ainsley had been let in on the secret of the new baby, Rose and James didn’t need to work as hard to uphold the facade. Sianin, bless her little heart, had no idea what was going on, but was glad that her mum wanted to laze around the house, which translated into Sianin getting plenty of snuggles on the sofa as they watched cartoons.

James seemed to be taking “over-protective” to a whole new level. He jumped at the chance to care for their children, either taking over or joining Rose in all bedtime routines. If a twin awoke in the middle of the night, he sprang out of bed before her groggy brain could even realize Hannah or Maddie had made a sound.

But when she brought it up to him, he flashed her a charming grin that never failed to melt her, and simply asked, “You’re upset that I want to care for my children?”

And really, when he put it like that, her irritation with him evaporated. She had to keep reminding him to let her help, though, lest the twins forget they had a mother.

James and Rose also used the opportunity to place more responsibilities on Sianin’s shoulders, to the girl’s displeasure. Since Rose wasn’t supposed to do most of the normal household chores, James taught Sianin how to vacuum, wash the floors, and a host of other minor but daily tasks.

Rose, though guilty that she was lounging around the house all day when she ought to be cleaning, was glad that Sianin was at least performing the tasks James assigned to her with minimal complaining.

Ainsley, meanwhile, took it upon herself to help her dad with anything he was doing and to check in with her mum to see if Rose needed anything.

“How long d’you have to rest for?” Ainsley asked as she settled in with Rose and Maddie on the couch for her nightly reading. Hannah was already in her crib for the night, but Maddie was stubbornly refusing to fall asleep in favor of getting snuggles and kisses from her mother.

“A few weeks,” Rose replied, blotting at the drool dripping down her baby’s chin with her jumper sleeve. Maddie scrunched her nose and turned her face away. “We’ve got a follow-up appointment next week to check the status of the bleed.”

Ainsley tilted her head to the side. “Why do you always do that? Make it plural? You said we’ve got an appointment, not I’ve got an appointment.”

Rose snorted. “You’re right. But your dad is joining me at the appointment. Plus, it’s an appointment to check on the baby, who is both his and mine. It feels wrong to claim sole ownership.”

“That’s actually really cute,” Ainsley admitted. She sighed dreamily. “Dad takes such good care of you when you’re unwell.”

A flood of adoration overtook Rose, squeezing her chest until inexplicable tears burned her eyes. She listened to her husband, who was in the kitchen assembling the girls’ lunches for tomorrow. He was humming to himself as he worked, the notes slightly flat and offkey.

“Yeah, he does,” Rose croaked.

“I hope I find someone just like him one day,” Ainsley said with a wistful sigh.

“I hope that for you, too.” Rose kissed Ainsley’s temple. “I hope that for all of my children.”

“How do you think it’ll work with Sianin and her soulmates?”

“What do you mean?”

Ainsley shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine having two soulmates. How can she love two people as equally and intensely as you love Dad?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? Who knows whether Sianin’s relationship with Elena and Juliette will evolve into a romantic one.”

“I suppose,” Ainsley allowed. “But for argument’s sake, how would it work if they decided to let it be romantic? It seems so strange to be involved in a relationship with two people.”

“Strange as it might be to you, it’s normal for others. Love in all its forms is a beautiful thing, remember that.”

“It feels like it would be hard to make sure you aren’t showing favoritism to one versus another,” Ainsley said.

“Well, your dad and I have four children—we love you all with equal intensity and try not to show favoritism. I imagine it’s something similar.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I would want to be in a relationship with more than one person,” Ainsley admitted. “I want one person who is mine, and mine alone.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Rose said. “You need to decide what works for you, just as Sianin will decide what works for her.”

Ainsley was quiet for several long seconds, but Rose could practically hear her daughter’s mind churning. While she let Ainsley think, she used the time to give kisses to the baby in her arms. The baby was finally getting drowsy; she had her cheek planted above Rose’s left breast, and her head rose and fell with her mother’s breaths. Any time Maddie’s eyes began to droop shut, she wrenched them open and gazed up at her mother.

Being the singular focus of her baby’s attention always made her heart squeeze with love and gratitude. She was the whole world to this tiny, perfect little human, and for a moment, as Rose got lost in her baby’s blue eyes, Maddie was her whole world, too.

“Do you think her eyes will stay blue?” Ainsley asked.

“I think so,” Rose said. “Usually if they change, they would’ve changed by now. All of my babies’ eyes started out blue. In Sianin’s case, they turned brown after a couple months. Yours stayed more or less the same color. And the twins’ appear to be brightening… they kind of look like Gran’s, don’t they?”

Ainsley peered down at Maddie. The baby shifted her sleepy eyes to her big sister, and offered a smile that widened into a yawn. Ainsley snorted and rubbed Maddie’s back. The baby grunted and wiggled around before face-planting into the crevice between Rose’s breasts.

“Silly girl,” Ainsley murmured. “Yeah, they do look like Gran’s. How does that work? I mean, I sort of know how it works. But her DNA is half you, half Dad, and yet she has Gran’s eyes. And apparently I look like Dad’s mum.”

“My DNA is half my mum and dad, and your dad’s DNA is half his mum and dad,” Rose said. “There are bits of all of our past family swirling inside of us, and it’s a lottery draw as to which traits get passed on to a baby.”

“That’s kind of neat,” Ainsley said. “It’s so fascinating that so many things have to happen perfectly to create a baby.” She paused, then continued in a rush, “We had the talk at school today. Y’know, how the girls and boys should be starting puberty soon, if they haven’t started already. One girl in my class had her first period months ago, which is mad. She’s nine! They also explained how in a couple years we’ll all be sexually mature and be able to make babies and so we all have to be very, very careful to prevent unwanted pregnancies as we’re exploring our bodies.

“They went over how a baby is made. Just the basics. Y’know, penis in vagina, sperm meets egg equals baby. I didn’t know that men released millions and millions of sperm when they had sex. That seems like overkill, doesn’t it?”

“What seems like overkill?”

Rose jumped at the sound of James’s voice right behind her. Her mind whirred, trying to wrap itself around the sudden turn their conversation had taken, as well as the fact that her baby was old enough to be learning the basics of human reproduction in school already.

“Did you know you made and released millions of sperm at a time when you have sex?” Ainsley asked, her eyes bright.

James was silent for a beat, cheeks pinkening and mouth going slack. He cleared his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah, I did know that. But where did you learn that?”

“They gave us the talk in school.”

“Ah,” he said, wincing.

“Why do you make millions of sperm when only one will actually fertilize the egg?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side. She then glanced down at Maddie, who was drooling into Rose’s shirt. “Er, or I guess two?”

“Actually, it was just one sperm,” Rose corrected.

Ainsley frowned. “But… there are two babies.”

“But they’re identical,” James said. “Genetically, they’re the same. Basically, one of my sperm met your mum’s egg, then that egg divided somewhat incorrectly to begin producing two separate babies with the same exact genetic code.”

“Oh. So your egg accidentally made a clone of itself?”

Rose snorted. “Something like that.”

Ainsley looked impressed. Then she said, “But still. Why make millions of sperm? That’s a bit wasteful, isn’t it?”

“It’s all about statistics,” James answered, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Would you rather try to hit a target with one arrow or many? What if that one arrow is defective somehow? Or your aim is slightly off? By releasing tens of millions of sperm in one go, you increase the odds of fertilization; and the egg can be a bit choosier by only allowing the strongest of the bunch to fertilize it and begin making a baby.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Ainsley said. “What stops all of the sperm from penetrating the egg and creating a million babies?”

“Once a sperm meets the egg, it basically walls itself off from getting fertilized again,” James explained. “When sperm meets egg, a biological cascade effect begins. The woman’s egg recognizes it’s been fertilized, so it begins producing chemicals and hormones that tell the rest of the body to prepare for the oncoming baby. And it shuts down egg production so there’s no chance of multiple fertilized eggs trying to grow a baby after one is already growing. Imagine how cramped it would get in there. And imagine how hard it would be on the woman to have multiple babies all at different stages of development in her uterus. Evolution has figured out how to control everything so that doesn’t happen.”

“That’s so cool,” Ainsley said.

“It is a bit cool,” James said, smiling.

“It’s weird that women are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have, but men keep making more and more sperm ‘til they die. That’s way more efficient. What if something happens to the woman and her egg supply is damaged? At least with men, they can regenerate their sperm.” Ainsley cocked her head at her father. “In theory, you could help make a baby when you’re a hundred, right?”

James choked. “I… well… yes, technically. But my baby-making partner would also be a hundred—well, ninety-five—and since she would no longer be fertile, I wouldn’t be helping to make any more babies. Besides, the… ehm… the quality of sperm deteriorates over time. It’s not usually a good idea to procreate after a certain age. And, ehm… the act of making a baby gets… ehm… more difficult in old age. So… ehm… I’m not sure we’d… that we’d… Although I would truly love to be with your mother in that way in our old age, statistically it’s not all that probable so I’m not really expecting to… not that I wouldn’t want to… but…”

Rose kneaded the heel of her hand into her eyes as James’s gob ran without stop and without filter. She eventually reached over and pinched him. He squeaked, but snapped his mouth shut. Ainsley, meanwhile, was in stitches on the sofa, cackling madly as both her parents’ cheeks blazed.

oOoOo

Two weeks and two days after learning she had subchorionic hemorrhage, Rose walked into her OB-GYN, this time with her husband at her side. Despite the fact that her bleeding and cramping had stopped nearly a week ago, she was a little nervous to see what Elizabeth would have to say.

James must have sensed her anxiety, because he threaded their fingers together and rubbed at the back of her thumb while they waited for Rose’s name to be called. He talked to her about nothing in particular, filling the silence between them. Rose let the soothing rhythm of his voice calm her until Elizabeth appeared in the waiting room and called name, gesturing for her to follow.

“How are you feeling?” the midwife asked as she took Rose’s height and weight. “You’ve lost some weight since I saw you two weeks ago. Nothing worrying, but something to keep an eye on. Especially since you ought to be putting on weight as your pregnancy progresses.”

“My appetite is still finicky,” Rose admitted. “Nausea is mostly gone though. I’m hoping that will help. But otherwise, I feel fine.”

“Any bleeding? Cramping? Dizziness?”

Rose shook her head and stepped off the scale, following Elizabeth down the corridor to an exam room. James followed silently and settled into the chair beside the exam table. An ultrasound machine already sat in the corner of the room, and, familiar with the routine, Rose reclined on the table and exposed her belly.

Déjà vu settled over her as she remembered the utter terror of two weeks ago, certain her midwife was about to confirm her worst fear. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she began to tremble as her mind warred with itself, half of it trying to calm her, and the other half spinning out of control. James scooted his chair closer to her and leaned his elbow onto the table above her head. His warmth and scent surrounded her.

“You’re okay, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“What a cute little bump,” Elizabeth cooed, squirting cool gel onto said bump between Rose’s hips. “Let’s see the cute little baby inside it, eh?”

Rose reached over and grabbed James’s free hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. He bent down to kiss her forehead again, then he brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles one at a time.

“Here we are,” Elizabeth said, tapping a few buttons into her keyboard.

Rose looked at the monitor and her heart clenched at the sight of her baby. They seemed to be about the same size as before, but Elizabeth was pleased with the baby’s appearance.

“They’re rather active,” the midwife noted, readjusting the probe when the shifting baby went out of focus. “Are you able to feel them, Rose?”

“Not yet,” she croaked. She desperately wanted to, though. She wanted that little flutter of life between her hips. She wanted the undeniable proof that her baby was alive and healthy and growing, because what if the scan was somehow wrong? Rose squeezed her eyes shut and focused deep within herself, trying to sense any ripple of movement in her uterus.

Her eyes shot open when the midwife tapped a few buttons and the heartbeat echoed around the room.

James let out a soft, “Oh,” his grip on her hand turning vice-like.

Rose glanced up at her husband, but his gaze was locked on the monitor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The sight of them made her own eyes prickle. She would never tire of seeing the awe on his face as he beheld their children. He treated each day with their kids as though it was the most precious gift he’d been given; this baby was no exception, and Rose could already see how in love her husband was with the tiny fetus inside her. She could plainly see him, seven months from now, weeping as he held their newborn for the first time, curling his body around theirs as though he could physically shield their baby from any harm the world might bring to them. She could see him sitting with the baby in the dead of night, half asleep himself, yet holding their small child to his chest as he rocked them.

God, she wanted that, was impatient for these visions to come true. Even though she regularly saw him holding and snuggling the children they already had, Rose was desperate to give him his fifth child and bring completion to their not-so-little-anymore family.

“Our baby looks healthy,” James said, his voice hoarse. Rose blinked away the visions in her mind’s eye and was brought back to the present, where her husband was no longer looking at the baby on the screen, but rather down at Rose. She flashed him a small smile that he returned before he focused on the midwife, his gaze intense. “But how is Rose? How is the hemorrhage? Is she healthy and safe?”

“Let’s take a look at that next.” Elizabeth zoomed out away from the baby, and instead shifted the focus of the ultrasound probe to the gray masses surrounding the baby. “Here we go.”

After taking a few seconds to orient James and Rose to what she was talking about, Elizabeth pointed to a black blob along the edge of the placenta. “Here’s the clot. And yes, it is just a clot now. It appears to no longer be actively bleeding, which is excellent news. The placenta is intact, which is also great news. Sometimes a concern is that the bleeding will cause the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall, but that is not the case here. I am very, very happy with what I’m seeing.”

Rose let out a deep breath. James, too, relaxed a fraction.

“Can I go back to business as usual?” Rose asked.

“Let’s not be hasty,” James answered instead.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rose drawled, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Elizabeth pursed her lips around a grin. She wiped the expression off her face and said, “I see no reason why not. Obviously you are limited as any other pregnant woman is, and I would try to take it easy for the next couple weeks as the clot dissolves, but yes, you should be able to resume all activities as normal.”

Rose was fairly certain she’d read between the lines correctly, yet she asked, “Sex too?”

James let out a little squeak that had Rose rolling her eyes. Elizabeth’s entire profession revolved around people having had biologically-successful sex. They themselves were here because they’d had successful sex. Nutter.

“Yes, you may resume your sexual activities,” the midwife answered.

Rose nodded. She hadn’t been in the mood for sex lately, too concerned was she with the baby and will following the instructions to rest. She knew that James’s sex drive had mirrored her own in his double concern for her and the baby. While she still didn’t have the desire to drag James straight into bed when they got home, Rose was glad it was at least an option, if the mood struck. She’d find other ways to satisfy James if or when his sex drive returned while hers remained elusive.

“Is Rose okay to travel?” James asked. “We were planning to take the kids up to Scotland for half-term break next week. Probably travelling by train.”

“I’ve been cleared to shag your brains out, but no, the movement of a train will be far too vigorous for my delicate condition,” Rose muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

James flicked her nose but didn’t reply.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Elizabeth said, pretending not to have heard their exchange. “Just listen to your body, Rose. It will do a good job of telling you what it needs. Try not to overexert. Rest when you’re tired. Make sure you’re getting enough vitamins and nutrients. Things like that.”

“Thanks,” Rose said. “And while we’re talking about it, do you happen to have any connections with midwives in Scotland? Near Glasgow? James and I are going to be relocating our family. The move isn’t happening next week or anything; we’re getting the kids used to the area and the house we’ll be moving into.”

“And you say I’m chatty,” James teased.

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Funnily enough, I do,” Elizabeth said. “One of my very close friends. We went to school together. I can send you her contact information, as I don’t have it on hand right now. I can also reach out to her to see if she can see you next week, if you’d like? A consultation visit, mostly, assuming she is taking new patients and is near enough to where you’ll be living.”

“That’d be brilliant,” Rose said, accepting the moist towels the midwife handed to her and cleaning off her belly.

Elizabeth made a few notes on her computer, then printed out another scan of the baby for them, despite them having one from two weeks ago. She also scheduled Rose’s twenty-week appointment, which would be shortly after the holidays. Rose was already impatient for January sixth to be here; it would be the appointment when she and James would learn the sex of their baby, something Rose always loved learning. But this time was the added game of being able to tease James for his apparent inability to produce a Y-chromosomed sperm. As though that was something he could control. (A fact he liked to remind her of often.)

“As always, you can call us if there are any questions or concerns,” Elizabeth said as she walked them to the front lobby. “But I’m very pleased with everything I’ve seen today.”

After thanking her, James slipped his fingers between Rose’s and guided her out to their car.

oOoOo

The following week, James and Rose willed themselves to have endless reserves of patience as they readied their children for the trip to Scotland. It felt like they had to pack up their entire house to ensure they had enough supplies for all the kids, including toys and games in addition to the endless articles of clothing.

Robert, bless him, was accompanying them, to help with child care and to give his opinion on the work they might want done to the manor house. James had reached out to half a dozen different remodeling companies to have them come out and take a look at the work he and Rose wanted done; they were due to arrive at the end of the week, since James and Rose wanted the first few days to walk around the house and make lists of repairs and upgrades that could be done, both internally and externally to the grounds.

The train ride went as well as could be expected when travelling with four children. Ainsley was content to read for the entire journey, but Sianin loudly proclaimed she was bored barely an hour into the trip. The twins were awake and wanting to crawl around, but there was only so much space in the compartment car. James, Rose, and Robert took turns walking a fussing baby up and down the length of the train, introducing the infant to cooing passengers who fawned over how beautiful she was. The passengers were extra delighted to realize they were identical twins.

Finally, the train docked in Glasgow, where the Tyler-McCrimmons picked up a rental vehicle and made the half-hour drive out of the city proper to the manor house.

The excitement at the prospect of permanently living in the “castle” evaporated Ainsley and Sianin’s travel exhaustion. As soon as James unlocked the front door, they bolted inside and began chattering to each other about where their playroom should be and calling dibs on the bedrooms.

“I want this one,” Sianin announced, gesturing to the master suite.

“That one is off-limits,” James said lightly, tweaking the end of her braid. “Available to mummies and daddies only. Same with the guest suite on the other side. That’s for when Gran or Grandad stay to visit.”

Sianin deflated a bit, but perked back up when James reminded her that there were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from.

Rose, meanwhile, immediately began to visualize how she would decorate. The current color scheme of the manor was dark, but not gloomily so. Even still, Rose thought that brightening the wall colors from burgundy to a rich cream or ivory would help open up the space and blend the rooms together. It would also make the house feel cleaner, and with five children tearing it apart, Rose knew she and James could use all the help they could get in that department.

The floors were in excellent shape, having been replaced shortly after Ainsley was born. Robert had come to her and James when he was having the work performed so they could help pick out the color and style of the various hardwood, tile, and carpeted floors in all of the rooms. Belatedly, Rose realized that Robert had done so because he knew this home would belong to them in the near future.

From the foyer, which was lit from the warm glow of the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, Rose stared straight ahead into the formal dining room that used to be a ballroom; the kitchen extended beyond that through a set of wide oak doors that were currently closed. She already knew that the kitchen was huge and open, thanks to James’s grandmother having remodeled it to use up more of the defunct ballroom space. The kitchen housed a long table that would easily fit their large family; therefore, the formal dining room wouldn’t be necessary until they hosted holidays or had friends over. Otherwise, that could easily be a place for the children to do their homework.

To her right was what used to be a receiving room, but had evolved over the last century to be the living room. It was already furnished with a couch, a love seat, and a few reclining chairs placed strategically around a television. A fireplace sat along the far wall, and Rose could already see herself sitting in the rocking reclining chair and nursing her new baby, or snuggling with one of her other four children or husband as the fire crackled merrily beside them. Goosebumps prickled along Rose’s skin at the thought of her and James making love by the fireplace, a vision straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

Blinking away that fantasy for the time being, Rose continued her mental mapping of the manor. Behind the living room was another room that had been a different receiving room—most likely, she presumed, a space for the gentlemen when the ladies had overtaken the first receiving room. Because God forbid men enjoy their wives’ presence.

James’s parents had converted that into a study area for James; Rose thought it would make a nice playroom for their family. It had plenty of room to store the kids’ endless number of toys, and it had a closet where they could keep their games. The flooring in there was currently hardwood; Rose made a mental note to chat with James about replacing it with something softer.

Extending beyond the living room was a narrow hallway that opened up to what had once been servants’ quarters. Rose knew that James’s grandmother had remodeled it and created a larger footprint, converting the area into a spacious a guest suite; it was where Robert always slept when he visited, unable to stomach being in the master bedroom ever since he’d lost his wife.

To the left of the foyer was a long, wide corridor with several rooms branching off of it. One of those rooms was a library that Rose already knew Ainsley would practically make her second bedroom. Rose planned to outfit the room with a variety of comfortable furniture and a desk. Directly beside the library and connected with a door was a formal study; she figured James would like to make that his space, filling it with textbooks and knickknacks and turning it into a place he could mark papers and exams on the weekends or weeknights.

Directly beside the study and again connected through a set of doors was a secondary study. This one was at the end of the manor, and therefore had windows on the two external walls. It was filled with plenty of natural lighting and Rose thought it would make a perfect place for her to set up her art studio.

On the opposite side of the corridor from the library and studies were a series of small rooms. There was a half bath that was mostly just a closet with a toilet and a sink, and two small rooms that Rose genuinely didn’t know the purpose of. They were far too big to be closets, but a tad too small to be bedrooms. Rose didn’t care what they used to be; instead, she planned to make the rooms a nursery: one for the twins, until they were big enough for proper beds, and the other for the new baby. It would be perfect, since the last room at the end of the corridor was the master suite.

Rose already knew the suite was enormous, yet it took her breath away to behold it. The room would easily fit their king-sized bed and all of their bedroom furniture, and still have room for more. Perhaps they could put a cushy rocking chair in this room as well as the nurseries; there could never be enough cozy furniture to cuddle her children, Rose thought.

There was a giant walk-in closet connected to the bedroom, as well as a double-vanity ensuite. The bathroom, too, was huge, outfitted with a tub and a walk-in shower stall; both the tub and shower had plenty of room for her and James to share, which would be perfect for intimate date nights.

Moving from room to room, Rose catalogued how she would arrange furniture and paint colors that would look good in each room and blend the entire ground floor of the house together. She took note of the flooring, and which rooms should be outfitted with carpets rather than hardwood floors or tile, or vice versa. When she and James helped Robert pick out the floors, they’d only had Ainsley; at the time, she hadn’t been able to imagine having five children. Now, she couldn’t imagine anything differently.

“I can see that beautiful mind of yours at work already.” James came up behind her as she weighed whether the library ought to be carpeted or left as it was with hardwood floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and casually splayed a palm on her lower belly, kissing the side of her neck and sending pleasant tingles across her skin. “What are you thinking?”

Rose leaned into him, tilting her head back to catch his gaze. His eyes were bright with joy and soft with love; she found herself falling in love with him all over again. She turned in his arms, draping her forearms over his shoulders.

“I’m thinking,” she murmured, pushing up onto her toes so that her mouth hovered mere inches from his, “that this already feels like home.”

And though she planted a kiss to his lips as she finished speaking, his answering smile was dazzling.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #soulmates #soulmates au #family fic #kid fic #baby fic #pregnancy #fluff #romance #my fic #and baby makes seven #soulmates verse #perfectly matched series

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prinxlyart · 4 years

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just any individual toh character hc would SLAP. mebbe ur thoughts on the twins idk this is vague

Nah it’s cool, I can dig it let’s do this

I only put this under a line break cuz it got so long oops lol

Emira:

Defo has a stutter that she went through a lot of intensive and grueling speech therapy sessions for (when she was about 7 years old) that she hated. Amity and Edric both know this and know it’s a sensitive topic for her. They’ll tease her lightly about it, but never in front of anyone else and they know where to draw the line. In my last Vinera post, I mentioned how much Viney adores her stutter. She absolutely loves getting Emira flustered enough to start stuttering. She’s incredibly patient and understanding when it comes to Emira’s stutter and Em’s feelings about her stutter, and she helps Emira learn to be okay with it again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of (and it’s cute).

My girl likes carrots. Like, really likes carrots. As in she’ll eat them straight out of the ground if she’s given a chance to wash it first. She really loves carrots. This is only an issue later on after she and Viney start taking care of beasts together and Emira’s been caught eating their entire stock of carrots that’s meant for the beasts. Viney has to keep the carrots in a secret box away from Emira after that point.

Emira actually really loves beasts/animals but has never been good at handling them. Any time she’d try to approach an animal to pet it, it would try to bite her. She’d get extremely pouty whenever this happens because beasts/animals love Edric. It’s not until after she and Viney start dating that Viney actually starts teaching her how to approach different creatures and her love for creatures reignites.

Emira’s a giant pushover for Amity. Only Edric knows this because he’s also a pushover for her. If Amity ever found out what power she actually holds over them, they’d be in so much trouble. They mask their love for their sister with constant teasing. Yes of course they get annoyed by her, that’s how siblings are, especially when Amity tattles on them, but at the end of the day, they’d help Amity hide the body if she asked. (The few times they witnessed her crying by someone other than their parents, they had gone on a warpath. Nobody hurts Mittens.)

Defo had a brief infatuation with Luz for like 5 minutes before she realized how head-over-heels Amity was. As long as they’re both happy, that’s what matters. She’ll take that secret to her grave though.

L O V E S having her hair played with, but like, only with people she’s super comfortable with. She has so much hair (mostly due to her mother’s wishes) and any time they all have attend some fancy gathering, Emira has to be seen by a stylist in order to get all her hair into whatever wild fancy shape her mom wants for the event. That she hates more than life itself, but whenever she’s upset, Edric or Amity grabs her hair brush and just gently brushes her hair out until she’s chill again. (She absolutely melts when Viney starts playing with her hair). In an act of defiance and because she needed this Change, the moment she and her siblings leave the Blight Manor permanently, she cuts off all of her hair. It’s very reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Viney loves it. Everyone loves it actually, but the biggest reactions come from Viney and Luz (they both love running their fingers through the newly cut hair because it’s so soft).

She likes to sing to herself when she’s alone. It’s rare that it ever happens because if she knows there’s other people in the same building as her, she won’t chance it. But when she knows she’s alone and no one will notice if she casts a silence bubble around herself so she can sing at the top of her lungs? You better believe she closes any doors or curtains in the area, locks everything, casts that spell and goes nuts. Her voice isn’t all that great, but it’s lovely when she’s singing quietly to herself while she does homework or something. On especially bad nights, Amity will ask her to sing to her. Emira sang to her once when they were like, 3 and 5 respectively, and it’s been their secret thing ever since for especially rough nights/nightmares.

Edric:

Yknow how James from Pokémon is just super good with Pokémon ?? Like, he knows how to treat them, he knows what they like, he asks them gently if they’d like to join them, etc. That’s exactly how Edric approaches creatures. He’s a natural with them, but he and his sister’s natural affinity for illusion magic kept him from pursuing that track of magic.

He’s always wanted a pet, but every time he brings it up to his parents, he’s met with the same firm No as always. He’s definitely gotten in trouble for trying to sneak wild creatures into the house to keep in his room. Thank Titan for Em’s cool new girlfriend who’s not only a multi-track student, but studying the exact subject he wants to study and is super eager to teach him everything she knows. He learns vicariously through her and helps her study for her tests. At first, Emira is suspicious of them, but she knows her brother wouldn’t be so cruel as to try to steal her girlfriend away from her. He’s just a dork.

My boy’s got a sweet tooth. He loves desserts and sweets and fluffy baked goods and often tries to sneak candies when he thinks no one is looking. Chocolate is a big weakness for him. When Luz introduces him to Human Sweets, he’s practically bouncing off the walls. Cotton candy??????? Flan?????? Dulce de Leche en Tabla??? He nearly passes out when Luz busts out what she calls a “chocolate fountain” and turns it on. Y’all remember that one image of a bird bathing in a chocolate fountain from a million years ago? That’s Edric.

Edric Blight LIVES to see his sisters laugh. He would pull all sorts of silly faces and dumb tricks to make Amity laugh when they were little. He still tries to make her laugh, but usually those have grown from giggles to disgruntled mumbling. He’ll never admit how much it breaks his heart and it’s not until he sees her laughing at something Luz has done that he has hope he may still be able to get her to laugh again (it’s also the first time he’s heard her laugh in years and it makes his heart soar in relief. He was almost certain their parents had stamped any concept of laughter out of her).

My boy Edric is so full of love and passion; actually quite similarly to Luz. What makes them different though is that Edric is Aromantic. He’s never had a crush in his life. He’s happy with his sisters and all of their friends and their family as it grows in the future. He has some best friends that he lives with for a while (after his sisters move in with their respective partners), but for the most part he’s chill. He loves his family, he loves spoiling his sisters’ kids, and he’s content with himself. It takes him a super long time to be content with himself, but he gets there. I will literally never get over the fact that his biggest fear is “being alone forever”. He’s never alone. He will always have his friends and family. And, thanks in large part to Luz, he has his parents back. His parents that actually were excited when he cast his first spell and tucked him in at night when he was a toddler, giving him kisses goodnight and pleasant dreams. Not the parents he’d run away from; those were the cold, uncaring, obsessed with fake concepts of popularity and status people he ran away from with his sisters. It took years, but Luz helped bring his real parents back. He loves getting to know them for who they are now that he’s an adult too.

He and Gus become best friends. Like, dumb buddy cop movie levels of best friends. They get into so much trouble when it’s just the two of them and they have the time of their lives. At first, he and Em just sort of took Gus under their wing because he was a little bit of an outcast in their homeroom for being so much younger than everyone else. But he’s a friend of Luz’s and a friend of Amity’s after a while, which automatically makes him cool in their book. They soon find themselves actually enjoying his company, rather than just protecting him from stray bullies, and they find his ability with illusion magic exciting. They themselves are considered prodigies so having another prodigy to show off practice with is super stimulating for all of them. As the years go on (and Emira spends more time with Viney) Edric starts calling more and more often for “Bro Time” where they go do stupid teenage stuff or test the limits of their magic or even just hang out and talk for hours. It’s actually all this time hanging out with just Gus that Edric discovers he’s aro; somehow it comes out that Gus has developed a crush on Edric and (major age differences aside) Edric realizes he’s never had a crush on anyone before. It’s a conversation that sucks a lot, but they’re besties and they manage to get through it. Gus maybe needs to take a day with his original gal pals to just cry about it, but he gets over it just fine. He also helps Edric understand what it means to be aromantic. Well, with the help of Luz and Willow as well; Luz is a walking dictionary for lgbt terminology and Willow’s super good at helping dissect feelings (when they’re not her own cough’outofsightoutofmind’cough).

I genuinely don’t know what he might pursue for a career. Part of me wants him to be independent and do his own thing, but a much stronger part of me wants him to just be part of Viney as Emira’s business. He loves creatures so much and he loves taking care of them, but I don’t want him to feel like a third wheel around his twin sister either. Maybe he becomes a dual track teacher at Hexside specifically for healing and beast keeping so more students can learn about Service Creatures. He can substitute for the Illusion track homeroom when needed, but he’s super passionate about the Service Creature sub-track he and Viney pitch to Principal Bump.

#prinxly inquiries #anonymous #the owl house #emira blight #edric blight #toh headcanons #I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about these two

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arahul-abyssia · 3 years

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Looks like it's September again (already, somehow), so that means that it's Nintember again, which means I'll be writing again! Same dealio as last time, one story per five prompts, up to six writings total. (And I'll be putting most of each under a cut, because mobile users can't skip posts)

And for my first entry for @starprincesshlc and @jklantern 's wonderful little event, I shall once again be attempting to twist some modicum of continuity, characterization, and canon-compliance out of a world that clearly cares scarcely for all three.

The Great Act

~~ Art, Green, Dizzy, Fire, Strength ~~

It was the loud buzzing of his phone’s alarm clock that dragged him from his slumber. He awoke to find himself sprawled across the couch, which was in no way long enough for his lanky body and spindly legs. As he blearily reached out and slapped at the coffee table, hoping to find the rude device by pure luck, he also blearily reached out and slapped at his memories, trying to figure out what series of events had led him there. For a moment, they floated just out of reach, and then suddenly flooded back to him all at once.

Oh. Right. It’s all over.

Another sporting event had come and gone, and as usual, in spite of all the effort he put into training and practice, he had ultimately lost to the same people he always did. No matter the sport, no matter the plan, no matter the time, they always won. And why shouldn’t they? The heroes always win in the end, always securing victory against the villains.

And he was one of them: the purple-clad counterpart, mirror, and supposed rival to one of the land’s most revered figures. Meant to oppose, and meant to lose.

He was Waluigi.

The name still sounded absurd to him. He had no idea how two men whose names were ‘Mario’ and ‘Wario’ and who naturally served as near-perfect foils of each other, had managed to meet and form such a publicizable rivalry without any deliberate effort, but such was the case. However, the notion that the brother of one had his own doppelganger in the brother of the other (or cousin, they never did manage to keep that story straight), with the same dichotomies of name, body, and personality? That was simply and utterly ridiculous, far beyond even the realm of ‘too good to be true’. And yet, if anyone had caught on, they hadn’t made it known to him.

Lost in thought and routine, he realized he had reached and opened his wardrobe, where numerous sets of that purple hat, shirt, and overalls were staring him in the face. In a sickening sense, they were the centerpiece of a great work of art, the fabrication that was his entire public existence, the character that he and Wario had constructed so that he might further be the ‘evil counterpart’ to everyone’s favorite red-clothed fire-throwing hero. Mario was stout and a bit fat, Wario was stouter and fatter; Luigi was tall and a bit thin, so Waluigi was taller and thinner. Mario had an M as his emblem, Wario had an inverted M; Luigi had an L, so Waluigi had an inverted L. To any casual outside observer, it was perfect.

But unlike Mario and Wario, whose rivalry had been formed in their youth, Waluigi had never even met Luigi until Wario had made him his sporting partner. The most he had known of the legendary Mario Brothers was just that: they were legends, for the countless adventures and quests they went on. In truth, despite how much he played it up during each and every game, he bore no true grudge against the man he was supposed to hate; Wario had, for a time, convinced him that Luigi’s presence in the public eye was somehow detracting from his own, but he had long since realized that that wasn’t the case; in fact, it often seemed like Luigi himself was being snubbed by the public, with the vast majority of the glory placed upon Mario, no matter how much Luigi contributed.

And yet, despite his existence being little more than a convenient story, despite the stress that constantly acting like a jerk brought, and despite always losing at the games no matter what, none of it brought him any sadness: for all its ups and downs, he felt himself to be rather good at keeping up the act, and the sports were, at the end of the day, still fun.

So why do I still feel so… bad?

Routine and thought had once more brought Waluigi elsewhere, and he found himself once more on his couch, now dressed in his usual outfit, with some sort of drink in his hands, probably coffee or tea; he didn’t care to determine which at that moment. His eyes casually wandered around the room as he brought the mug to his lips.

Then, just as the liquid touched his tongue--apparently he had managed to make tea out of coffee beans--the answer came to him. All across the room’s walls and shelves was sporting equipment of every sort--tennis racquets, shin-guards, helmets, golf clubs, old kart wheels, giant dice blocks, a probably excessive number of deflated balls--and absolutely no other sort of decoration. He leaned forward to place the mug on the table, and in doing so noticed his gloved hands and violet sleeves. Who wore the outfit of a character that they supposedly were not, every single day? Apparently, him.

He didn’t do anything else. He had let the character that was Waluigi consume his life to the point that had no idea who he was outside of it. He had nothing that he did when sports weren’t involved. Wario didn’t dedicate all his time to his rivalry; he owned an entire video game company--an unstable and poorly-run one, certainly, but it was nevertheless another use of his time. Mario and Luigi had their own grand adventures, of course, which is also what Peach, the Yoshis, Bowser, and his horde of minions were all typically involved in.

They all had lives outside of the games, and what did he do during the interim times? He either tried to practice, on his own, in the few suitable locations that he could find when the world was arranged for adventure, in a vain attempt to not lose as bad when the next game came around, or he wallowed in his home, doing absolutely nothing of any import.

But what could he do? Waluigi was never anything beyond a fabricated counterpart to both Wario and Luigi, but he could not remember, even slightly, what or who he was before he embraced that role. That nearly all of his memories prior to his first meeting with his partner were lost to him, was, he shuddered to admit, rather unsettling. Not even his old name--if he even had had one, he could not recall anymore--would reveal itself to him, and it was not as though he could simply find out through some external means: he was never the best at record-keeping, and to really sell their act, he had had his name legally changed to “Waluigi” and all references to his previous identity erased.

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind of thoughts. There was little sense in worrying and fretting over who he was in that moment--the chance of any sort of useful epiphany emerging from it was even slimmer than he was.

Ugh… better just try to distract myself…

The first suitable option to catch his eye was the TV remote lying on the table. He quickly grabbed it and flicked on the set, and was immediately assaulted by the cheery enunciation of the Lakitu news anchors on the aptly-named Lakitu News Channel. He recalled that that was the channel he had left the set on last night, after he had gotten quite fed up with the incessant and inane blathering about the events of that day’s final matches, and it took only about five seconds to figure out that they were still on that topic. Scowling, he began flipping through the various channels available, hoping to find something interesting enough to block out the melancholic thoughts that were biting at his mind, like a hundred tiny Muncher and Nipper Plants.

After a painfully long series of more newsrooms--all talking about the exact same thing, of course--and unappealing shows--Half of these are for children and other half would just make me feel even worse!--he stumbled across some sort of advice segment hosted by a Birdo (was it the Birdo? He couldn’t tell). With absolutely no better options, he resigned himself to sit back and listen halfheartedly to whatever trite tips she tried to provide; maybe they’d be amusing enough to at least give him a small chuckle.

“I hope you all enjoyed our lovely guest! Now, before we move on to the submissions from all you wonderful viewers, I’d like to reiterate some old, but tried and true, advice, which I hold very close to my heart.”

Oh, here we go…

“Something which you probably hear very often is to always be yourself, or to always be true to yourself…”

Feh, I can think of several people who definitely shouldn’t do that…

“But it may be that you don’t like who ‘yourself’ is, or perhaps you don’t know what self you even have to be true to…”

Hah! As if… uh…

“And to that end, I’d like to say that there is always room for change. There’s always a way to make something new of yourself, to alter the parts of you that you want to, to become a different, better person. ‘Yourself’ can be whoever you want it to be; never are you locked along one unending bleak path. Try new things! Experiment! Don’t let yourself be trapped in an endless cycle.

“Believe me when I say I have personal experience with this: I’ve done so many different things over a rather short period of time, trying to find what I wanted to do with myself, who I wanted to be. Even now, I’m still not entirely sure if this is my supposed ‘calling’…! But I never got anywhere by doing nothing: it was on me to break out of my shell and search for myself, and now it’s on you to do the same.

“You don’t have to begin drastically, with a flying leap of faith--I think we’ve all walked over enough cliffs by now to know that!--but, if this is the sort of mindset you find yourself in, why not try taking some small steps today? It could be as simple as wearing a new outfit, or talking to someone new, or partaking in a new pastime.”

Birdo continued to elaborate on her point, but Waluigi--or, whoever he was beneath that--had stopped listening. He wanted to make some snark about what she said; he wanted to rationalize how what she described couldn’t ever apply to him; but, he found that he couldn’t. He had attempted to follow similar advice long in the past, and failed, but something about the way she phrased it, managed to affect him more deeply than he had thought possible. It was as though her words had dug beneath his shields and layers and pierced something somewhere in his core; pulled a lever, turned a handle, flipped a switch.

A strange sensation washed over him, one he could only describe as a blazing fire--nay, an inferno--igniting within him. He had felt the touch of flame countless times over the years, but not even the innumerable rage-fueled volleys he had endured, all combined into a single force, could compare to what now burned in his soul.

He leapt up from the sofa and ran to his bathroom. Staring at him from within the mirror was a character, a costume, a facade. It was not who he was. He grabbed a towel, dampened it, and proceeded to scrub away the pink paint on his nose; Wario and Waluigi’s noses were defined by that bright rosy color, but his was not. He then tore open a cabinet and grabbed his bottle of mustache product; normally, it was used to create the signature angular mustache of Waluigi, but today, it would shape the hairs into something softer and curlier. Whether that was what he would ultimately like did not matter: he was experimenting! He was changing himself!

Though the man that stared back at him from the glass now bore a much different visage, it was still framed by the purple cap and shirt, yellow emblem, and dark indigo overalls. He tore them off, then opened his wardrobe once more and threw all the copies of that same outfit to the ground. Hidden behind them were old clothes that he hadn’t worn for many, many years. He grabbed the first garments he saw--a casual dress shirt and gaudy neon-yellow shorts. Did those go well together? It didn’t matter. Without hesitating, he put them on.

He quickly glanced in the mirror again: the ensemble was nearly complete, but just missing one last touch. He thought on it for a moment, then stricken with brilliance, hurried to his modest backyard, where the roses he performed with in the games grew. He plucked one from its bush and affixed it to his hair, then ran back to the mirror to observe himself one more time.

His mismatched get-up would likely garner many stares from others, though he wouldn’t mind them at all; if he had anything in common with Waluigi, it was that they both loved being the center of attention. Even still, that’s not what mattered. A whole new day lay before him, a whole new day to be someone new, someone different; to move on from the cycle he had been stuck in, to take a whole new step forward.

He returned to the sitting room and turned off the television, then went to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he turned the handle, threw it open, and marched into the daylight, the daylight which felt far fresher and warmer than it had in a long time, though even it held no candle to the flame that continued to blaze within him.

Ready or not, world; here I come!!

#nintember #my writing #godss there were so many directions i thought about taking this #eventually had to just choose and commit to one #straight up wrote a great deal of a different take before scrapping it #writing is... a time

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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

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Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

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strawbunniiee · 3 years

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A Girl and a Ghost Ch. 3: The King’s Revenge

SOOOOO this is the part where the plot thickens :)

if anybody else wants me to tag them in these chapters so you know when they come out i will gladly do so andksnkfs

hope you enjoy! ive had tons of fun with writing these :D

dont mind me, just lettin my frendos know that this is a thing skfnkdjf

@salamifuposey @monsterbride99 aaAAA when i initially posted this i COMPLETELY forgot to do this a a a a a sorry

King Boo was furious.

How could that peasant, that foul impure abomination of a Boo do this to his beloved crown? It contained his power, it was so incredibly important to him...

And that filthy little purple haired brat! How could she so carelessly throw a rock at him like that?

He plopped his body down in a chair and marinated in his own rage for a few minutes.

After a few moments of enraged silence, he spoke.

"...I have got to get my revenge on those two. But... how will I do it?"

King Boo began to brainstorm a way to get the ghost Rabbid and his little idiot friend in hot water.

"Torture? No, no... one of them is a ghost. It wouldn't hurt him... Torture could be done with the little nuisance however. Perhaps a bit of childhood trauma will teach her not to mess with the wrong people." he thought aloud.

He spent almost fifteen whole minutes thinking of gruesome ways to get back at them, until it finally struck him.

"...Oooh, I know. I know exactly what to do now. It'll mostly affect that bloated rabbit, but I can still do some damage to his moronic pipsqueak pal."

He grinned maliciously and floated towards the doors of his manor.

"I'm about to open up some old wounds of yours, Tommy." he said to himself.

———

Meanwhile, Phantom was racing through the sky with Jawaii in his arms, panicking. He would never let King Boo lay his foul hands on her.

They were both absolutely dead silent the whole time until Jawaii opened her mouth.

"...Do you know that guy?"

Phantom halted for a moment and looked down at the young alien he held. "...Yes, I do, but I don't think I would like to go into detail at the moment. We have a very... rough history, I will say."

"Oh... I get it. It's okay, I won't pry. I understand." Jawaii said.

"Just remember that if King Boo ever tries to hurt us, I'll make sure he will regret it for the rest of his days." promised the Rabbid ghost. "I swear on it."

Phantom resumed his flight and soared down to the ground safely. He gently set her down in the grass.

"That was actually really fun! We should do that again sometime! ...without being scared off by an evil ghost, obviously. That would just make it less fun." said Jawaii.

"I'm glad you were entertained, I suppose... King Boo is quite intimidating. And rude." said Phantom.

Jawaii put her hands on her hips. "Well, yeah! I mean, he made fun of your weight! No friend of mine is getting made fun of like that!"

Phantom laughed a bit. "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't that harmed by that statement. I er, get that all the time."

She frowned. "Why do people tease you about that, that's dumb! Besides, I think you're perfect just the way you are!" She gave him a hug.

He hugged back and smiled. "Awww... thank you. I was born like this, I can't help it you see."

"You're a giant fluffy singing ghost bunny with a mustache, I have no idea how anybody could hate THAT! Cuz I don't."

"Oh, don't make me blush from all of these compliments!" said Phantom, smiling.

Jawaii jokingly grinned evilly. "Never. I'm gonna shower you in compliments 'til you DROWN!"

She cackled maniacally as she began relentlessly saying nice things about him with Phantom begging her to stop. Soon, it became a full-on flattery war to see who could out-compliment the other. They had a grand old time.

Eventually, the sun began to set.

"Oh yikes, I better get home. I had no idea we stayed out here for so long! Mom is probably having a heart attack as we speak!" said Jawaii.

Phantom was quite alarmed, his ears sprung up in worry and concern. "She's having a what?! Oh, poor child, I hope your mother is all right..."

She burst out laughing hysterically.

"Wh-what's so funny? I thought your mother was dying!"

"No, dummy! That was an exaggeration, I meant that she's probably WORRIED about me!" Jawaii continued giggling like a maniac.

"Ah. I see now... Thank you for correcting me!" Phantom joined in on the laughter.

They got themselves together after a moment.

"Oh yeah, mind if you could fly me over to my house..? We're kinda far away from home." said Jawaii.

"Of course!" Phantom replied happily.

Jawaii climbed on his back and the two flew home.

———

After flying back to town, Phantom gently set Jawaii down in front of her home.

"See you soon, my friend. I enjoyed showing you around Spooky Trails today!" said Phantom.

"Cya tomorrow Phantom! I had a good day today too!" She ran up to him and gave him one last hug.

She walked up to her door and waved goodbye to Phantom. He waved back.

"Moooom! I'm hoooome!"

Jawaii's stepmother Stella ran in.

"Oh, Jawaii! Thank goodness you're all right! I was so worried, where were you?"

"Sorry I came home late! But I spent today with a friend of mine."

Stella had a look of pleasant surprise on her face. "You made a friend? That's so wonderful! I know you haven't really ever had any friends, honey, I'm so happy to hear that you finally made one!" She smiled.

Jawaii grinned. "Yeah! I'll tell you allllll about him! He's the best."

They sat down at the dinner table with the food Stella made.

Jawaii dug into her mashed potatoes and ate it like a wild animal that had nothing to eat for the past 3 weeks.

"Honey, chew slowly. I don't want you choking!" said Stella.

"Sorry, Mom..." Jawaii said, frowning.

"It's okay. I don't want you in the hospital or anything, especially after you just made a new friend!"

"Oh, I've known him for a while, actually. We've been hanging out together a lot!" she smiled, her mouth still full of food.

"...Jawaii, sweetie, don't talk with food in your mouth.“

"Oh yeah! Sorry again Mom.."

"Anyways, that's why you've been out so much lately? I'm so happy for you, Jawaii!" Stella smiled.

Jawaii gulped down some water. "Yep! I'm glad I'm his friend too!"

They spent dinner talking about all of the fun adventures she and Phantom had gone on.

Jawaii however, conveniently left out any mention of them being in danger, she wouldn't want to worry her stepmother of course!

"Oh yeah! I meant to ask you this, but I got totally sidetracked but where's Dad? And where's Hakai?" asked Jawaii.

"Your father is out destroying planets again, and your sister is having a sleepover with some friends of hers." said Stella.

"Ohhhh. Wonder why Dad's out so late. Hope he's alright."

"I'm sure he's fine, hon."

Jawaii had another sister though, and her name was Roe. She went to a boarding school and wasn't home most of the time.

She stretched and yawned. "Hey Mom, I think I'm gonna hit the hay today."

Stella gave her a small look of surprise. "Oh! You are? Usually you're quite a night owl. Maybe you're just tired from all your little adventures with Phantom."

Jawaii smiled. "Yeah. Maybe. Anyways, g'night Mom! Love ya, don't let the bed bugs bite."

Stella gave Jawaii a hug. "Aww, good night sweetie. Love you too.”

Jawaii ran upstairs, changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth and jumped into bed, quickly falling asleep after her long, tiring but fun day.

———

That same night, the Mushroom Kingdom was as quiet as ever when it was nighttime. The once colorful, cheerful inviting land was deathly silent, almost hauntingly so.

Princess Peach was safely tucked in her bed, sleeping peacefully.

But little did the sleeping princess know, this would not remain for long.

King Boo had finally made it to the castle after venturing there to exact his revenge. He knew how dearly Phantom loved Peach. Breaking them apart forever would be the ultimate punishment for stepping on his turf. He knew that either way, the plan would work. If Phantom didn't come to the manor, him and Peach would be separated forever. If he did, however, it would give the vengeful king the chance to trap him and Jawaii in his manor, to torture them and possibly even kill them somehow.

He knew he could kill Jawaii, that was no problem, but Phantom...? Could he possibly do it again? ...No, he's a ghost now. He can't be killed again. But the king knew that even if he couldn't die, he could still make him suffer for as long as he wanted. Possibly even for eternity.

He phased through the castle walls, not having any of the guards notice him. Then, he finally found her room. There Peach slept, defenseless, ready for the taking.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched her from her bed.

Peach immediately woke up and let out a shrill scream of horror, alerting the Toads guarding her door.

But it was too late. He had already burst out her window with her and was headed straight towards his mansion.

———

Tap, tap, tap.

Jawaii woke up very late that night to a tapping sound she heard at her window. She went over to it to find one of the Peek-A-Boos she had met in Spooky Trails, tapping away at her window.

"Hey... aren't you that kid who Phantom is friends with?"

Jawaii rubbed her eye and yawned. "Yeah. Why do you ask? And how are you at my house anyway?"

The Peek-A-Boo had a somber expression on his face. "Well... I have to tell you some... bad news."

Jawaii was horrified of what was about to come out of his mouth next. Did something terrible happen to Phantom?

"His love, Princess Peach was kidnapped by King Boo. And... Phantom is gone. He went off to go save her. Knowing King Boo, Phantom may not come back in one piece. ...The other Rabbids told me it was best to go tell you. That way, you would know where he is. You deserve to know..."

Jawaii was devastated. How could this happen?

She knew she had to save him. And if she couldn't save him... then she wouldn't let him suffer alone.

"...No. I'm not going to let this happen to him."

The Peek-A-Boo was taken aback in surprise by Jawaii's response. "...I dunno if you should go. You're only a kid. You could get seriously hu-"

"I don't care." said Jawaii.

She jumped into her closet and changed into her usual clothes, grabbed a lantern and ran out of the house and into the black, haunted forest that she met Phantom in.

#jawaiis cheesy fics #mario rabbids #mario + rabbids #mario + rabbids kingdom battle #phantom of the bwahpera #tom phan #rabbids #fanfic #fanfiction

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