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#but like. this time legitimately and not really as a joke heh
psycho-chair · 1 year
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Hihi so consider this. Cause I had this idea a while ago and it’s being taking up space in my brain since (/pos): Killer texting Cross randomly in the middle of the day to just like drag him to this abandoned, decaying, overgrowth-ridden house he found. And then them exploring it together,, and Killer purposely trying to scare Cross by telling him the house’s haunted or something and jump scaring him when they’re in darker areas cause he’s just silly like that,,, Then they go into the basement and it’s all dark and Killer jokes about Cross “having a big strong man to protect him” but Cross doesn’t say that he’s legitimately glad Killer is there with him cause otherwise he’d probably be losing his shit. But Killer can tell he’s unnerved so he teases him for it, and Cross lightheartedly teases Killer for “hanging around in abandoned houses” or something in return. 
And Cross acting scared to humor Killer, but in reality he’s really legitimately creeped out the place but he still loves it anyway. Though he still acts all unimpressed with Killer trying to scare him. And Killer’s so excited about this whole thing, cause he loves abandoned houses like that and wanted to show it to Cross so badly,,, so he’s real eager about this adventure 
Then when they’re done it’s all dark so they sit on the half-collapsed porch of the house and talk for a while before Cross decides it’s time for them to go home. 
Uh yeah anyway I’m totally gonna write a oneshot with this eventually >:0
PLEASE PLEASE I LOVE THAT IDEA SO MUCH OMG UWAAAAA,,,,,, i am first in line to read it,,,,,,,,
ohhh but imagine!!! imagine killer coaxing cross to join him on the roof, promising him he'll love it, and cross is skeptical, but they get there and sit down
and cross is focused on the crumbling edges of the roof and clearly anxious about it, so killer just looks around for something to distract him with,,,,, "hey, crossy."
"uh, yeah, dude?"
"do me a favor?"
"hm?"
"look up."
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"Woah.... it's beautiful.."
"heh,,, it sure is."
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seashellcosmos · 4 months
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I am asking way too many questions, but after reading the new chapter, something completely unrelated to that popped into me head.
Like, I kinda ship Kijo and Jin as a joke. So I was wondering if you could maybe show us a little about what their relationship was like? Like, before and after the fic. It doesn't have to be much, but I would love to get some interacting between the two since I doubt we'll be ever getting that :D
It’s complicated. Like the short answer is that any form of their relationship- professional, platonic, or anything else- would be so dang complicated because both of them are high functioning disasters
Before the fic it was definitely strictly professional, it was a “you’re funding a lot of this project and you have connections to everyone I work under and the government sector overseeing this so I am obligated to update you” sorta thing from Kirigiri’s perspective, and I imagine Togami’s opinion of him didn’t go much further than thinking he’s at least semi-competent and efficient.
They interacted more towards the project’s end, because it wasn’t exactly an abrupt ending and there were a million things that would need to be covered up and loose ends that needed to be fixed if Jin’s plans to just send the kids away instead of… completely getting rid of them was supposed to work. That’s where Kijo got more involved in the project itself, and coincidentally worked with Jin more directly.
They’d start talking personally more when Togami took in Byakuya (and the mobile security system for HP, he has a lot of enemies and it would be a shame for something that advanced to go to waste), getting a kid that can make things float with his mind is something that’s going to take some professional assistance. Jin supplied him with the suppressants for Byakuya’s enhancement, and probably stopped by and called frequently just to make sure everything was going okay. Lots of meetings in the office, introducing Jin as a vague ‘business partner’, etc.
But Jin had fifteen kids he was keeping tabs on throughout the years, so overtime their communication would grow infrequent and scattered… until Junko’s plans kicked off that is.
Kijo trusted Jin’s plans, like legitimately trusted him, so learning (from Junko) that there was a backup plan to kill the kids if things went south really set him over the edge into desperation territory. If Jin was really gonna kill kids, he wasn’t killing his kid.
After the events of the first fic, and all the trauma that would accompany that, they probably parted ways again and tried to return to some semblance of normalcy for them. They’re still in frequent contact , though, the world is still in the middle of falling apart and they’re some of the only people still living that truly know why. Jin also hasn’t told Kijo about Byakuya doing some vigilantism with the others on the side, and if (when, because these kids are not subtle) Kijo ever finds out I wouldn’t put it past him to show up in person wherever Jin is currently living to yell at him.
If they did actually get together it would be secret forever and half of it would be arguing (affectionately) hope this answered the question heh heh. (Takaaki probably assumes they are a thing because they always make plans to ruin his life together and do nothing but bicker and apologize and bicker again any time he tries to help them)
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dirtyoldmanhole · 5 months
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chapter twenty six, part one of three because this is detailed af.
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...
ugh. my heart, man.
as much as i've been ironically joking about (waves hand) most everything, this is legitimately going to hurt. the first playthrough was more about figuring out wtf happened. this one? this one i'm going to feel every line. cuz here's the thing.
it'd be one thing if gunter had your typical villain arc and having fun with this chapter all the way through, god knows i appreciate somebody who can go ham in an entertaining way.
here though?
this is his second worst day of his life. only second because the first was.... bad.
not to be all gross ass feels on the literal hornyblog but. you spend four months writing a literal 100k word fanfiction with this guy in your head, you're going to get attached to some degree, y'know?
...
all right.
last time we left off, we fought possessed!sumeragi, and there was a genuinely touching death scene between the hoshidan kids.
(it's a pity the nohrian ones never really have that same emotional catharsis/closure that the hoshidan ones, either with garon or their own nameless mothers. gunter's really the only nohrian parent (figure?) around, and that's more with corrin specifically.
ugh fuck, you know what I just realized? remember that "you can't stop believing in everyone?" line he lowkey threw back at her in last chapter. this one:
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gunter's going into this confrontation genuinely thinking this is the betrayal that will break her. that's one of the reasons why he's so bitter.
he's thinking to himself 'no you won't, not with me :) ~' all sardonically. and holding that little poisonous resentment close to his chest with the fucking closet of all the others. again, anankos is less possessing him like a puppet and more about tweaking all of his most uncharitable resentments and bumping the intensity of those up.
and the man has. a fuck ton. of resentments.
anyway, everyone's all huddled by the next set of doors, saying the vallite king is behind them. (big ol' red flag by nintendo that it's somebody other than anankos, b/c why would the title suddenly change?)
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they charge in to find the throne room (complete with stark throne) very empty.
then surprise attack fireballs, enter left.
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(actually that's interesting, anankos obviously juiced gunter up enough that he can unleash some pretty potent magic divine shit. normally gunter has zero magic to save his life.)
fireballs target everyone but corrin and azura.
(clever, clever sir. )
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(really, you almost had them all fooled. in another world you could have wiped them out remarkably easily.)
also: note the emphasis on the royalty. you can practically hear anankos leaning down hard on his resentment of royalty to hear that menace of satisfaction.
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ohhhhh holy shit
guess what i also just realized. the shots where corrin/gunter are there? ANANKOS' MASK IS LITERALLY IN BETWEEN (in the background).
holy FUCK that is some brilliant as hell cinematography. anankos ""literally"""" being his mask / the malignant presence blocking their communication/trust/etc. jesus, whoever did these shots needs a raise.
gunter gives it all he's got.
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bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
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interesting .... that was your idea all along, wasn't it, encouraged by anankos? "lure the royals in the one place and kill them all"
(it's all projection, all the way down in this conversation.)
heh i didn't actually realize i'd be so bang on the mark there, actually, with the last post. (I had forgotten the specific details of this conversation).
...
man, I just feel for corrin here so bad.
like (waves hand) ship stuff aside, at minimum this is the one guy she's trusted for the longest sustained time as a background parental figure. corrin really has not had a single fucking authority figure other than him present. like, at all. who (a) could, and (b) gave a shit enough about her to mentor her with the basic stuff.
this betrayal really does blindside her.
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okay, the scarlet stuff is not as interesting, imo, to his characterization to him really harping in on the vallite royalty part.
part of it is that's his cover story, right.
but remember that "interesting" line from him when shit all the sudden went sideways, when corrin found out she's vallite royalty?
lord, you can practically hear anankos piledrive on his hatred when that revelation all but slapped him in the face. beforehand he was somewhat likely to give corrin a chance, but after that...
and i really do think he always hated corrin, to an alarmingly large degree.
(love's closer to hate than apathy, as the line goes.
and i think that was nowhere more accurate than with their bond.)
....
goddamn i can hear the vitrol in these lines.
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"I wasn't sure now" yeah, corrin was really lowkey suspecting him when he pointed the finger at azura the last chapter. she's learning.
a little too late, maybe, but she's learning.
all right, i ran out of the image maximum and this is a decent stopping point for a breather, onwards to part two.
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kidflashimpulse · 2 years
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i personally really wanna know what Bart's relationship with the mental health check-ups is. like, is he super tight-lipped about what he's been through and plays everything off as fine, that he's handling it? does he talk about certain stuff but not others? has he legitimately gone to therapy since s2 or has he only done what's required of him? i'm very very curious
Okay, so this is such a good question it has taken me forever to put this together because I have a million thoughts and its impossible for me to put a proper structure to it so please bare with me, I tried my best LOL also I am SO SORRY for writing up this essay as my response LMAO i don't know, the words just won't stop !
warning: it is a lot im so sorry lol
From what I've read among the fandom, I often read that hes been put to therapy pretty much from the moment season 2 ends and has since his stay in the present managed to somewhat "heal" from his trauma or at least confront it one way or another.
Personally, I somewhat disagree with this approach. First, like we've seen from Gars arc, BB had been suffering for months pretty badly, but interventions and mandatory check ups weren't at all enforced on him until what many thought was pretty late. Honestly, I found this actually pretty realistic. From both a "slice of life" aspect as well as what's typically expected from professionals. Thats because you can't force someone to seek help unless they pose a threat to themselves or can't care for themselves anymore. So people really only intervene when things reach their nuclear stage. Typically people who also need help withdraw themselves from their social circle, as we saw with Gar, which idk if ppl realise makes it incredibly hard for them to even try to help (not out of a lack of empathy, but because they have their own responsibilities, and if someone withdraws themselves from you, then its much harder to approach them or be aware of the extent of their mental health problems). Again, I actually found his friends general involvement in Gars mental health journey fairly realistic.
I think people also overestimate the reach (heh) of the Leagues mental health efforts. The mandatory aspect is a simple "check up" and this involves a lot of people. So unless someone is actively seeking or needs help, theres only so much this service can do.
Now how this unwarrented essay on an imaginary health care system ties in to Bart (lol im so sorry for my rambles), well ill tie that in later.
Now, maybe im reading too much into it considering how him being fine was made into a gag in the Elder Wisdom Season 3 episode lol, but his first reaction (which at that point wasn't made into a recurring joke) to Barrys worry was very much "its nothing, im fine, your worry is annoying". His emotional intelligence was also displayed from his scene later on where he manages to call out what Jay was really going thru for what it was.
Elder wisdom was an episode that was listed multiple times in the watch list for the series and Jays involvement was pretty prominent in it. Now with how Phantoms concluded, Jay was listed as someone by Dinah in the last episode who has needed mental support, so it seems like that plot line has been continued. Now I don't know about you, but I interpreted Dinahs mention of Jays issues to stem from Bart being missing (compounding onto general hero life stress and him probably still mourning Joan). This is because the creators of YJ always heavily emphasise that "everything u need to know regarding all plots is what is shown" and starting from the moment in season 3 where Bart guarantees he's not going anywhere, to the moment that Jay returns to an empty home from which Bart was missing for over two weeks, to the conclusion of Jay needing mental support, I feel like its a very tidy and directly connected storyline.
Another thing from that episode which has been continued over this season is that Bart is always guaranteeing that hes fine. Its a little jarring in parallel to the worry Jay was going thru, especially with us as the audience knowing that he actually has been through a lot in those two weeks and that all that time he was literally in bandages. But the moment hes awake with Clark and co, he guarantees hes fine and immediately resumes with the mission.
What I found pretty interesting with Barts involvement in Phantoms is that a lot of what has been previously assumed of him from season 2 has been supported this season. I believe the intention of his scene with the Legion when he pretty much cornered them into revealing the truth is that he somewhat has a switch on his personality depending on the circumstances. Which to an extent supports the notion that while his general personality is pretty much genuine, what he shows depends on what hes in the mood to play up or down.
From season 2 we've seen that he can be pretty tight lipped on what he wants. From season 3 we've seen him adjust to his new timeline pretty well and in season 4 we've seen some of his complexities as well as how it can affect the people he cares about.
So, with all this in mind, to answer your questions. With the check ups being spread thin with the purpose of singling out people who are shown to need/ask for it and his affinity for being tight lipped as well as playing everything off, guaranteeing that hes fine and keeping to himself, hes really only done what hes been required to do and played off any need for concern that would require him to seek further help. This doesn't mean I don't think he hasn't talked about stuff with the people hes close with.
Lastly, he also has the factor that a lot his background has to do with the future. Sure it might be one that doesn't exist anymore, but im sure he'd struggle to explain things without giving away too many things that he'd believe he really shouldn't be saying. Also his very specific background restricts him from seeking any professional help outside of league related resources.
So yeah, if you made it to the end of my post, thank you for reading :D <3 I hope through all this I at the very least, managed to address your questions and give my two cents on our fave speedsters relationship with mental health check ups
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I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Thirteen: Lies
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Secrets kept. Tempers blown. Lies confessed.
AO3 | Playlist | Masterpost
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: LIES
They’d hoped to find an exit, but it’s beginning to look like there isn’t one.
It’s like the King wanted this palace so insular that he made the portals the only legitimate way out.
John is grumpy about it, and keeps slipping up. Why would he do this? I wouldn’t do it this way. This is stupid.
“Why the hell would he do it the way you’d do it?” says Arthur.
Since he… because… we were the same being once, damn it, Arthur!
“Sure.”
Arthur is grumpy, too. He’s been going for hours on a plate of apple and carrots and cheese, and while it was pretty darn good, he doesn’t exactly have energy reserves to spare.
He’s hungry, and faint, and tired. More importantly, he knows something is wrong with John.
He doesn’t know what, but something is off. Something has changed.
And also, he really doesn’t like feeling trapped. “Next time we pass that damned ocean view, maybe we should try to climb out and swim around the palace.”
We’d just die, Arthur. Those are Deep Ones in the water. They’d fuck you, then kill you, or kill you, then fuck you,  but either way, it wouldn’t go well for us.
Arthur’s face is burning, and John wouldn’t have known that without his newest trick. “Then why the hell are there so many openings staring out at them?”
Why not? It’s a pretty view, and it’s not like they can kill or fuck the King. Would you brick up a window just because there are squirrels outside?
“These things seem a lot more dangerous than squirrels.”
Not if you’re a nut. There’s a pause. Arthur, that means you’re—
“Yes, yes, that makes me a nut, I get it.”
Heh, heh, heh. You’re a nut, Arthur.
Arthur does not reveal just how much he liked that joke.
He likes John so much, sometimes, which is different from love.
He always loves John. Sometimes, he doesn’t like him at all.
Right now, he doesn’t want to risk a fight by teasing him. He doesn’t have the energy.
Arthur sighs. “This place is just not right, John.”
John kind of likes this place, mostly. It’s different.
“Are we any closer to a kitchen?”
Well, I thought we’d find one back there, but instead, it was the pots.
“Right. Why were there so many pots?” Shelves of pots, piles of pots, pots piling so high that they disappeared into the dark.
Though they were jars, really, and all had lids. John almost knows what those jars are, but that memory is still out of reach. Arthur, if I understood the reason for that, I’d be a lot wiser than I am.
Arthur snorts at him.
He’s really hungry, and it is so strange to be out of pain. He likes it, of course, but he’s so suspicious of it that he isn’t capable of just enjoying it.
That’s interesting, but it’s not the part that fascinates John: simply put, seeing Arthur so much more clearly has done nothing but hook John on him like some couture drug.
Arthur is just fascinating. Mostly because he’s such a mess.
Contradictory in the extreme. Rife with guilt and shame and sorrow and fears for things that weren’t even his fault. A breadth of feeling that surpasses anything John can think of, as if everything Arthur does and experiences is artificially heightened—except it’s not.
It’s just Arthur. He’s just like that.
If John, as King, had stumbled across him and seen him this clearly, out in the wild and with no context, he’d absolutely have snatched him up at once.
It sort of amazes John now, honestly, that more gods and monsters aren’t vying for Arthur’s attention.
Or fighting to own his pain.
If John were the type of creature who fed off fear, or pain, or misery, or anger, Arthur would be the perfect feast.
Remarkable.
So fortunate for Arthur that John just wants him. Mine, he thinks, and focuses again on the hallway. There’s another room on the left. Six steps ahead of you.
“Right.” Arthur really hopes it’s a kitchen, because damn it all, carrots are not cutting it anymore.
John sighs. Good news and bad news, Arthur.
“Hit me,” Arthur says, resigned.
It is a kitchen. It’s also empty.
Arthur groans.
It really seems like he doesn’t have anyone living here but himself. I don’t understand it.
“He really is different,” says Arthur, and balances right on the edge of believing this King is as different as John says.
Then he remembers the pain when the King broke his leg and fucking took John away, and there is no forgiving that, there is no letting that go, and Arthur would sooner see the sainted version of the King burn in hell than ever forgive him.
So that’s a lot to process, and John tries.
The challenge is, Arthur’s memories aren’t always… accurate.
They look accurate. Clear, three-dimensional, rich in full color—but the ones John was there for simply don’t match the ones Arthur has, which, unfortunately, throws everything into doubt.
It’s not that Arthur is mentally unstable, or something. He’s got a lot of guilt, and humans are weird about processing that stuff.
Gods don’t do it that way. John’s not at all sure how to fix it.
“Hello?” says Arthur.
John’s been quiet too long again. There’s nothing here. I’m sorry. We need to go back to the hall and start walking.
“We’re going to need to just take a fucking portal soon no matter where it goes, or I’ll starve,” says Arthur with a light and cheerful tone.
He is afraid of starving.
He’s very afraid of starving.
We’ll find something, John says.
Arthur walks, and sniffs. “I smell something nice. Floral.”
There’s an opening up ahead. Maybe it’s an exit.
Arthur hopes it’s an exit. He’s not eager to be lost in the Dreamlands again, but they have got to get out of this palace. Every second here feels like tempting fate.
So he walks forward, and doesn’t hesitate, and only grows angry when he discovers John didn’t warn him the courtyard plants were blue.
#
Arthur is not okay that they’re in a glowing blue garden.
The last time they were someplace like this, things had gone very, very wrong.
They had fought each other—worse than they ever had, saying things neither of them could take back. They’d been captured, and dumped into the prison pits for months, and Arthur had defended himself against a cannibalistic murderer by committing murder and then cannibalism. None of it was okay, none of it was dealt with, none of it was a thing he’d ever want to think about again, but here they are, and John won’t stop talking.
It’s comforting. The blue light from the fungus might have some unseen properties; it’s calming, I’d say intentionally. There are benches here and there along the black gravel path, human-height, clearly designed to be inviting.
“Mm,” says Arthur.
John knows how Arthur feels. He’s trying to mitigate, to calm, to handle it without violating any more of Arthur’s self. Perhaps the fungus is better tended here, or maybe it’s merely part of the same genus, but I think it is a different plant. There are leaves, Arthur; leaves, and flowers unlike any I’ve known—shaped a little like lavender, but cascading down like weeping willows. The light is soft and gentle. I get the impression the walls, covered as they are in living things, might be soft to the touch. Arthur, are you listening?
“Mm,” says Arthur.
It isn’t working.
John is angry that it isn’t working. There is a pond of sorts in the center; not big enough to be called anything else, yet its clarity and stillness give an impression of great depth. It is somehow silver in spite of the blue light; it doesn’t reflect as much as I’d expect, but remains so clear, so perfect, like the moment between breaths. The position of benches makes me think one is supposed to sit and contemplate it, perhaps think deep inside it, perhaps learn to be as still.
“Mm,” says Arthur.
John is done. What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Are you finished?” Arthur wants out. He’s deeply afraid. Keeping that barely under control with anger.
There is a pause. This isn’t like before, Arthur. We aren’t in immediate danger.
“Right. Right. Of course. Are you finished?”
Another pause. Arthur. We need to talk.
“You know, John, you keep saying that, and it keeps being as absurd as it was the first time you said it. No we don’t, and we need to find Martin and his Jon, or find some food, or get the fuck out. Three options, all good. Which direction do I go?”
Yet another pause.
Arthur doesn’t understand what’s going on with those. They’ve been happening since he woke up in that weird, luxurious bed.
Maybe John is consulting the documentation. Arthur gets the imaginary visual of a manual, labeled, RUINED HUMAN (MODEL: ARTHUR LESTER) INSTRUCTION BOOK.
John makes a sort of choked sound, as if he almost laughed.
“Oh, what is it now?” Arthur snaps.
I refuse to go any further until we work some of this out, John snaps back, his basso profundo bolstered by his contrabass growl.
“Are you bloody serious?”
Yes! Do you know how bad it would have been if he’d been who we feared today? Do you have any idea? And we wouldn’t have been prepared because we hadn’t talked about it!
“We most certainly have talked about it,” says Arthur in a light, pleasant voice he can barely believe he’s producing. “We already know what we would do: fight to the death. That’s all.”
NO.
Arthur stiffens. “No? No?”
John puffs away in his head, sounding like an angry bull.
“You want to talk about it? Fine! We’ll sit here until the King changes his mind, or decides to distill us into some kind of stew, or opts to send some fucking animal after us to hunt us down for sport! Is that what you want? Fine! Then we’ll do that!” Wild with stubbornness, Arthur storms in his best guessed direction for a bench, and he rams right into one.
His shin does not thank him.
“Ow! Fucking damn it! That’s your fault.”
Arthur!
Arthur sits, well aware he’s flouncing onto the stone bench the way Faroe would during a tantrum, but utterly unable to stop. “What?”
I can’t lose you again!
Arthur goes completely still, and John is amazed at all he can feel.
The flutter of Arthur’s heart; the twist in his stomach; the way his hand clenches and unclenches; the way his back straightens, stiffens, aches.
The way his eyes blink rapidly, because they are wet, and he doesn’t want John to know.
The taste in his mouth has changed—metallic, now, somehow an anxious flavor, and Arthur is also producing more saliva. Even his balls have tightened, as if to withdraw into his body.
Arthur exhales slowly. “You won’t lose me.”
You don’t know that! He… the King…
“What, John?” And anger rises, narrowing Arthur’s eyes, tightening his jaw. “He did do something to you, didn’t he?”
And here was the perfect segue.
John was going to tell him about the thought-reading thing eventually, but this wasn’t a segue for that. This was an attempt to correct an error before it came back to bite them on the ass.
John had lied about the King in Yellow’s identity. That one wouldn’t stand, not with any scrutiny, not with Kayne poking around.
I need to tell you something. About the King in Yellow. About who he really is. And yes, he did do something to me. He showed me your death. Your counterpart’s death. Arthur, I…
Arthur has grabbed John’s hand and is holding it. “He did?”
Yes.
Arthur exhales. To him, this explains everything. He knows he’d be completely fucked up if he were forced to watch John die. “That’s horrible. John, I’m sorry. Why would he do that to you?”
He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He was trying to warn me. Trying to make sure we don’t make the same mistakes he did.
Arthur isn’t getting it. “What? How could you make the mistakes he did? How did he even know what happened? He was probably just being an asshole.”
John briefly wishes he knew how to calm Arthur the way his counterpart had, then pushes the thought aside. That’s too far. That’s too much. He won’t do that. I… I lied to you, Arthur. I panicked. I didn’t want you to judge me, to… to hate me. And I lied.
Funny, how Arthur’s eyes still widen in response even though he can’t see anything out of them.
Funny, too, how the panic has ebbed, transformed into concern for John—and now, it’s getting a little prickly around the edges. “All right. When did you lie?”
About who the King in Yellow is. He is the King in Yellow, but I…
“He’s something like Kayne, right?” Arthur guesses. “That would explain… but what happened to the original? Where is he?”
Dead. Killed by this one’s hand. But no, he isn’t something like Kayne.
“This one killed the King?” Arthur is staggered; then, disturbingly, he’s jealous.
He thinks about the part of John that is bad being killed, and clear as a bell, wishes he could kill the part of himself that must be responsible for everyone dying, everyone leaving, everything going so wrong.
Oh, that’s… not good.
John knew that was why Arthur wanted to kill Larson, why he’d gone apeshit on Uncle. Sure, he knew.
But this is a lot more self-loathing than he’d realized was there.
It runs deep. Right to Arthur’s core, and that palimpsest conversation comes back to John’s mind. This guilt is dangerous. Poisonous. Damaging.
It cannot be allowed—but John isn’t sure how to make it stop.
“John?”
He’s waited too long again. John tells himself to focus, and tries a different tack. Arthur, what am I?
Arthur is confused. “What? You… you’re John. You’re my friend.”
I am your friend. But Arthur, that’s not what I asked you. What am I?
Arthur is confused and annoyed. “Irritating?”
Arthur!
Arthur sighs and rubs his face. “I don’t know what you want from me, John.”
Yes, you do. He gentles his tone. I didn’t ask you who I was. I asked you what I was.
So here’s a funny thing: Arthur genuinely does not understand that John is, always was, the King.
It’s a disconnect in his mind. He doesn’t see it, really believes John is discrete, and so, he’s just not getting it. “Bored, maybe? John, is this really what you wanted to talk about? You said you lied.”
John sighs.
Fuck the gentle approach. He couldn’t stay here, doing this for hours. There was too much at stake. I am the King in Yellow, Arthur—and the King in Yellow is me.
Arthur’s mind goes as blank as if he’d unplugged it from the wall.
Arthur.
“What?”
Arthur can’t process the sentence. It’s like a key fitted to the wrong lock.
And John has a wicked idea.
It’s so simple. Entirely true—and deeply manipulative. Arthur would respond to it, pull closer, maybe even push away from some of his stupid desire to die.
So, is it wicked, really? It’s just a fact. But saying it now, when Arthur is in shock—
It will plant itself in him.
And John wants it to. The King in Yellow in this place is me without you.
“Wh… what?” Arthur’s brain tries to start up again like a faulty engine, coughing and stalling.
I lied because I was so afraid you’d judge me by what he’d done. That you’d hate me for it. Arthur, I… I’m sorry.
John tells himself to stop there. Overselling it wouldn’t help.
And Arthur is tearing up properly now, his heart aching, his mouth tasting like it does whenever he cries. “John….”
It is so damned hard to wait.
To let the seed take root.
To sit in silence and feel Arthur churning with anger, betrayal, shock, love, hope, the choice of forgiveness, fear, loneliness, and uncertainty, all pitted against what he thinks he knows.
There’s so much in there. So many emotions, so many conflicting beliefs, so much chaos and shame and anger.
Arthur absolutely believes there is no divine judgment or set of cosmic scales, but he also absolutely believes he is personally, hopelessly ruinous, and his suffering is his due.
John is beginning to regret not taking the King up on the offer to just sit in Arthur’s head for a while when it was still clear.
“John. I forgive you.”
And John had not expected that choice. Oh, Arthur…
“I think I understand why you lied. That you told me before I found out, somehow, not because you had to tell me, but because you chose to—that’s important. Thank you.”
Oh, this human is special, and oh, John loves him so much. He pounds in the final nail. Arthur, seeing what became of me without you has… I’m not okay.
He is, though.
“John.” Arthur squeezes his hand again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not thrilled you lied, but I understand why. I suppose you’ve seen the worst of yourself today, and it must have been frightening.”
Arthur is thinking it must be like when he saw Larson.
Oh; no, it’s not like that.
John has zero problems with how his alternate self turned out. He can see the reasons behind every decision this other-him made.
But he’s still going to make different ones. Why? He won’t lose his Arthur. You forgive me.
“I do.”
Arthur…
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Arthur is his. And while Arthur might not think of it in those words, exactly, he’s leaning into that reality. Y… yes.
“No wonder you’ve been buggy ever since we got here.” Arthur hasn’t risen yet. “I understand. I don’t envy you, my friend.”
You don’t hate me for it?
“Of course not.”
Then I don’t care about him anymore.
Arthur squeezes John’s hand reassuringly. “Thank you for your honesty. We might not want to tell Martin and Jon, though. This other you has hurt that Jon badly. I don’t know how they’d respond, and I don’t want to have to try to protect you against Martin’s strength and Jon’s… whatever it is he does.”
John doesn’t want to think of those two, but Arthur has a point. Agreed. We can keep exploring now.
“I’m ready.” Arthur stands. Now that he feels like he’s carrying John metaphorically, not just physically, he is determined.
John can see inside that, too.
Arthur believes he’s let down every single person he's ever known except for John. (John, too, but John is still here.) It's like he's trying to make up for a lifetime of failure with this one, good thing.
Mine, thinks John, who hasn’t missed that when doing things for him, Arthur is far more stable than when doing things for himself. That feels right, too. Turn left. Now straight. Arthur, I’ll be honest… I don’t think we’ll get home unless Kayne decides to send us back.
“Well,” says Arthur with a sigh. “He owes us a body, anyway. I suppose we can discuss it when he bothers to show up.”
The chill of fear that washes down Arthur’s spine with those words is so much worse than John expected, and he peers closer.
Left me, Arthur is thinking, literally thinking, left me, leaving me again, and he doesn’t stop thinking it, and doesn’t stop remembering when John left (That’s not what happened! John thinks, uselessly), when John proved that Arthur had suffered so much for nothing, when John proved that Arthur really would always be alone, and Arthur may have forced John back via Kayne and capriciousness, but it was only for now because John would leave because everybody leaves, everybody always leaves, and—
“Straight?” says Arthur, not even the tiniest hint of any of that showing up in his voice.
My Arthur is bleeding, John thinks, because he’s going to fix this, find a way to stitch this, though he doesn't know how.
He mentally shouts a thank-you to his alternate self, because he wouldn’t have known about this if not pushed to look inside.
He’s definitely not telling Arthur about this new ability. Not for a while. He has to gather more information first. It’s logical.
Mine, he thinks again. Straight ahead.
It was not too late to turn this around.
(part fourteen)
NOTE
I made the Deep Ones into pests because really. WTF, Lovecraft?
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mothgodofchaos · 1 year
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Hey there! 🤍
Apologies for being so on and off! I’m quite busy and forget I have tumblr a lot. Moving on! I’ve been thinking about Roleswap WKM. I haven’t thought too much about anyone other then small bits of Damien and DA content. Like how DA would turn into some form of broken and merged together, twisted, quote on quote Monster, with Damien being stuck in the mirror. I wanted to know what you think of that? Since I’m not quite sure if it makes a lot of sense, but it’s been lingering in the forehead for some time now so I thought I’d ask!
Sorry for the block of text! Have a lovely day! 🤍 ^v^
Hello! Good to see you again! And, it's alright, it happens to the best of us.
Yes! My brain immediately went and called it "Mirrored AU" because heh, funny joke. I love this idea and I would legitimately enjoy seeing things from it!
I poked @writtengalaxies about it too, and they really like the idea. I hope to see more of this.
Love it when y'all just invade my inbox with this shit. Yes, give your offerings to the chaos god.
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Text
Trust- Jonathan Sims x OC
Jonathan Sims x Mavis Whitlock
Description: Mavis finds out Jon doesn’t trust her after the Jane Prentiss incident and does not take it well. 
Word Count: 1.9k
Jon wasn’t okay. Well, to be fair, no one was truly okay after what happened with Jane Prentiss and the worm incident. But Mavis was more worried about Jon. He’d been all but locking himself up in his office and avoiding everyone. The only reason she was able to talk to him on a regular basis was because she forced herself inside and stayed there until they had at least half a conversation. 
That wasn’t working so well these days. She’d only seen him twice in the last month, and it was only in passing as he was heading back to his office. Even then he didn’t look at her, only offering a quick hello. 
It wasn’t a good feeling, knowing that he wouldn’t even give his girlfriend the time of day. She felt ignored, like she was being pushed to the side by one of the arguably few people that are supposed to pay attention to her. But, to be fair, they were all coping with this in different ways. So she didn’t say anything just yet. Jon would eventually come to her and they would be okay again. He would talk to her when he was ready, right?
Wrong. After a month Mavis didn’t even get the luxury of seeing him anymore. Sure, part of that was her fault. With the whole worm incident, she and Arwen have had to take inventory of any uneaten files and documents. It wasn’t easy work and they were super busy, but usually Jon at least stopped to say a quick hi when he passed by before continuing on with his day. Mavis was visibly upset at this point, and everyone could see it (though, she wasn’t really trying to hide it anyways). Everywhere she went she could see Clara offering her a sympathetic smile, or Martin would offer to make her tea, or Sasha would offer her a shoulder to lean on. She didn’t want any of those things though, she wanted Jon back. She wanted her boyfriend back. 
Just a week later Mavis had been sent on a file delivery to Martin for a case he was doing a follow up for. Going to Martin’s office meant passing Jon’s, so she thought that she would at least attempt to stop by for a quick hello before continuing on. She reached his door within minutes, but paused as her hand reached for the doorknob when she heard Jon’s voice. It sounded like he was recording. 
“Unlike me. I’ve healed enough in the last month to return to work, but I’m told it’s unlikely the scars will ever truly fade,” he spoke, and Mavis’ heart ached. She hadn’t even known that he’d had another doctor’s appointment recently. 
“Tim is still signed off. Truth be told I could have stayed away longer, probably should have, but I don’t think the boredom was good for me. I tried to come back earlier, but Martin wouldn’t hear of it. Almost threw me out of the archive. Is he hiding something? Heh. No, of course not. He’s probably just legitimately concerned for my health.” The girl couldn’t help but smile at that last part. That was just like Martin, always concerned for everyone's health. 
“Why do I still feel like I’m being watched? I’d just about convinced myself it was Prentiss, watching me in secret while she filled the walls with her writhing hordes, but no. She is dead and gone, and still whenever I talk into this… damn thing, I feel this... I’m being watched. I know I am.
I’d think it was some aspect of the recorder itself, but it still happens even when I’m just reading these files. Not as strongly as when I’m… recording them, perhaps, but still there. Is it… no. Well…what about…Mavis?” At that, Mavis’ jaw dropped and she stared at the door in disbelief. He had to be joking. 
“She’s been trying to see me a lot ever since I returned after the worms invaded. Now, logically it could be explained by her being a concerned girlfriend, but I just don’t know anymore. Who am I supposed to trust? I fear that I’m only able to trust myself, though even that may not be possible. End supplemental.” By the time he finished, the girl was fuming. How could he even say that? After all they’d been through together? After she nearly got carbon dioxide poisoning from running back into the tunnels to find him? And he didn’t trust her… 
Without a second thought she slammed open the door and stormed inside. The sudden entrance obviously caught Jon by surprise. The tape recorder in his hands would’ve fallen to the ground if his senses hadn’t kicked in. He caught it with ease, gripping it tightly as he stared at the girl in bewilderment.
“Mavis-”
“How dare you,” she seethed as she stalked over to his desk and slammed her hands on the desk, leaning towards him with a glare. “After everything we’ve been through and everything I’ve done for you! How dare you have no trust in me! I have been working my ass off, dealing with those damn worms, trying to get things back up and running normally in the archives and making sure you take care of yourself. Or at least I try to, but you’re too stubborn to listen! All you care about are those stupid statements and to say that I am the suspicious one is unfair and absolutely absurd!” She stood up normally and crossed her arms, still obviously livid. 
“I cannot believe that you don’t trust me. You think that I'm like Prentiss? Just trying to get into the institute so I can destroy it from the inside out? That’s utterly ridiculous,” she shook her head with a humorless laugh. “But no, my word wouldn’t be enough, would it? You need more proof, you always do. Here.” Without waiting for him to respond she grabbed a letter opener and made a thin cut on her forearm, watching as warm red blood pooled to the surface. 
“Mavis,” Jon repeated, though this time in shock. Yet again she didn’t allow him to say anything else.
“There’s your proof. I’m still human, I’m still me. And I can’t believe that I had to do this just to gain your trust. Come find me when you get your head out of your arse,” she concluded before grabbing the file and walking back out, slamming the door behind her. 
Martin immediately spotted the blood on her arm once she delivered the file he requested, and he was quick to find an emergency medical kit and wrap her wound up. Luckily the cut wasn’t that deep, she wouldn’t need stitches (thankfully). Though he would never ask aloud, Mavis knew that he was asking her what happened just based on the looks he was giving her as he worked. She didn’t feel like talking though, still too upset to even think about it. Instead, she promised to talk to him later and, with Elias’ permission, she took the rest of the day off to cool down.
A few days later Mavis was lounging on her couch, barely paying attention to the show she’d put on as an attempt to distract herself. She’d refused to talk to Jon since she confronted him, not that he’d made any attempts either. He was still as elusive as ever. Tim had finally come back to work and Clara had to explain what happened between the couple before he made a tasteless joke about their silent treatment of each other. Once it had been explained he’d offered Mavis some sympathy and even joked that he would rough Jon up if she wanted. The offer made her laugh, which made the man grin before they continued on with their days. 
No matter what though, she just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Jon. Her mind kept going back to his words and she couldn’t help but be stuck on the fact that his trust in her was little to none. Her arm still throbbed dully as it continued its healing journey, and it took all she had not to scratch on it when it began itching. Maybe yelling at him and cutting her arm just to prove a point might’ve been a bit over the top, but in that moment she had been too blinded by her anger and hurt to quite care. Besides, he honestly probably wouldn’t have taken her word for it if she hadn’t done it. 
It hurt her how despite everything they’d been together he still managed to doubt her. Yes, she was aware that the Jane Prentiss incident had been jarring and terrifying for everyone, but she didn’t see anyone else acting like this. Especially not Martin, who’d dealt with far worse before she’d even entered the Magnus Institute. He had acted out of line misunderstanding everyone’s genuine concern for him as suspicious behavior. Nothing had changed aside from him, no matter what he might’ve thought. 
She continued to stare blankly at the tv until she was pulled out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. A deep sigh left her lips as she ultimately got up, figuring she shouldn’t leave the person on the other side hanging. She opened the door then froze. Jon stood on the other side of the door looking very close to tears. 
“I’m an idiot,” he said before she could say anything. For a moment all Mavis could do was stare at him in shock. When she finally came back to her senses she shook her head.
“Yeah, you are,” she responded, pulling him inside before closing the door and facing him with her arms crossed. “Are you ready to talk about it?”
“Yes,” the man muttered, sounding both embarrassed and ashamed. With a nod, she led him to the couch, where they sat on opposite sides and faced each other. 
They spent a long time talking. Talking about what happened, how he was feeling, how she was feeling, what they’d been doing to cope, anything. Mavis had to admit she felt a bit better now that her thoughts and feelings were out in the open. 
“What I mean to say after all this: I’m sorry,” Jon said sincerely. “It was stupid of me to assume you were anything but human or my girlfriend. That is, if I even get the pleasure of calling you that anymore.” Mavis sighed, hating the fact that she could never stay mad at him, especially with that adorable look on his face. 
“Yeah, I’m still your girlfriend. As long as you don’t go around accusing me of anything like that ever again.” She shot him a pointed look, which he smiled at. 
“I think I can manage that,” he responded. That’s when Mavis copied his smile, but she couldn’t say anything before Jon’s eyes landed on the tv in front of them. 
“You’ve been watching Ripper Street without me?” He questioned, sounding both shocked and scandalized. The girl’s head whipped to the tv, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 
“I didn’t even realize that’s what was on,” she responded. 
“Sure,” Jon drawled out sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. The smile on his face let her know that he wasn’t actually mad at her. 
“Well, since you’re here now maybe we could actually catch up on it,” she suggested, already reaching for the remote. 
“I’d like that,” he responded softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders when she leaned back in her seat and went back to the episode they’d left on. And just like that, for the first time in nearly two months, everything felt semi normal once again. 
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potatotrash0 · 3 years
Note
how i desperately wish it had gone: hajime freezes in the door way and he turns around, "hold on a second... do you... are you saying you want me to stay..?" nagito shake his head no, in his head he's thinking 'please understand please understand please understand' hajime thinks for a second then says "i guess i can stay a while" he knows hes not mistaken when he sees nagito's smile. I also like the idea that since nagito is sick, he makes requests that are a little selfish and he hints how he feels abt hajime, that's why he asked him to stay.
-🌺anon
sobs.........🎶 we could have had it aaaaallllllllll.......🎶
chunsoft i’m begging you to make hajime use the common sense that i know he has in situations outside of the trial room. pretty please with a cherry on top? this is painful
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kimabutch · 3 years
Text
On butchness in the Locked Tomb Trilogy
So I started reading Gideon the Ninth as an act of Butch Self Care (TM), having encountered almost no butch lesbian protagonists ever, and despite my high expectations, I can honestly say I was super impressed. I feel deeply represented in a way I rarely have and that I’m struggling to articulate. 
A tiny moment that struck me fairly early on was the narrator describing Gideon as “emasculated” by a favour that “Dulcinea” asks her to do — I suddenly realized that I’d never (to my recollection) seen a book use that adjective for a woman before. I mean, most fiction I’ve encountered is hesitant to call women masculine (and even more rarely as a positive or value-neutral term), even when they’re discussing butches, many of whom, though not all, consider ourselves masculine. 
And “emasculated” feels like a step further — not simply an acknowledgement of a butch’s masculinity, but of her experiences with masculinity, how her masculinity affects moments that outwardly have nothing to do with her gender presentation. I don’t think the feeling of being emasculated is necessarily a emotion worth cultivating — it’s usually a product of insecurity, of worrying that a small action could take away one’s masculinity — but it is something that a young butch might feel, something many of us do feel at times! 
That moment, though very short, felt so honest and true and reflective of the series’s approach to butchness: completely unafraid of portraying the real and messy thoughts of a young butch lesbian, while also completely respectful of her identity. It gracefully walks the line between shamelessly portraying her sexuality and not falling into the old ‘predatory butch’ stereotypes — Gideon is super horny and loves a good sex joke, but also is incredibly respectful and careful of bodily and romantic boundaries, to the point of literally running to apologize when she thinks she’s flirted with a woman in a relationship and promising to take fully clothed showers in Harrow’s body. 
Similarly, Muir has no qualms about describing Gideon as physically strong, tough, and proud of it, while obviously not making this her only character trait, and also portraying her swordfighting as a legitimate art and talent — Gideon literally does study the blade, and Harrow notes how Gideon analyzes and understands swordfights in a way she absolutely does not comprehend. 
And in that vein (heh) of balance, the series also lets Gideon have the frankly Butch Mood of wanting to be useful, wanting to care for and defend those she loves — while also letting her be cared for, wanted, reassured, and protected. This happens in the first book (I will be crying forever about Palamedes trying to convince Gideon that she’s not responsible for Harrow’s parents’ suicide), but struck me even more in the second, which revolves around Harrow’s silent, unaware yearning for Gideon. 
Every butch I’ve ever talked to about this has struggled with the idea of being wanted —the idea that any woman could want us, especially want us as ourselves, without having to tone down our butchness. So I can’t tell you how emotional it made me to read an entire book about a woman’s desire — need — for her butch. About the overwhelmingness of her grief at losing Gideon, so much that she cuts her from her brain to cope with the pain. So much that she’s undone without her, even unconsciously. To see a butch being the object of desire — not just sexual/physical desire, though it’s clear that that’s there from Harrow’s fantastic coffeeshop AU, but soul-shattering romantic yearning — it just fucks me up beyond belief. It’s really, really good, and honestly just thinking about it makes my heart feel so full.
That’s all I’ve got for now, but just — thank you Tamsyn Muir. Thank you so much.
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txttletale · 2 years
Conversation
locked tomb characters as the 42 ways to type laughter on the internet
harrowhark nonagesimus: haha. = I am weary and loathe to laugh, but here, you have forced it upon me; OR: I hate you.
gideon nav: hahahaha (etc.) = What you just said was really funny. OR: What you said was only kind of funny, but I want to have sex with you.
judith deuteros: roflcopter = I am a police officer working the undercover teen drug-use chatroom circuit.
marta dyas: HA = Vengeance and/or justice has been served appropriately.
coronabeth tridentarius: teehee = I have done something mildly transgressive and I think it's adorable.
ianthe tridentarius: hah = Three-quarters of the way toward typing the most tepid indication of appreciation there is, I became too bored to continue.
naberius tern: lolz = I am Gchatting/texting with two to four other people at this time; each of them is significantly more interesting than you.
isaac tettares: lmao = That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.
jeannemary chatur: lmfao = That is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.
abigail pent: hahaha = That was funny! I legitimately laughed, or at least smiled, and I am slightly happier now than I was before you just said that.
magnus quinn: L-O-L/L.O.L. = I want nothing more than to cry. OR: I made a joke and I'm your dad.
palamedes sextus: haha = I'm acknowledging that you've said something you perceive to be funny, though I don't find it particularly funny myself.
camilla hect: ha ha ha = Very funny, you fucking asshole. You piece of shit.
dulcie septimus: bahaha = Like "ahahaha," but less concerned with appearances.
protesilaus ebdoma: HAHA = I made an audible laughter-type sound at this!!
silas octakiseron: lmbo = I'm neither laughing nor happy, but I am arguing a point I'm pleased with in my role as a person who works on the internet.
colum asht: lol = I feel nothing. I want this sentence/conversation to be over but lack the wherewithal to end it directly, with purpose; I want to admit to a feeling but lack the conviction; I want to tell you how you've hurt me but want more to pretend I am invincible; I want to laugh, really laugh, but do not remember how; OR, maybe: that was funny, whatever.
cytherea loveday: lolllllll = I feel beneath my skin surface a brimming hysteria, an existential query both exhausting and frantic: what am I doing here? The things that amuse me now are so different from anything I could have imagined as a young child. Partway through typing I realized the absurdity, the smallness of that which made me lol, and so I held my finger firm upon the "l" key for a while, and I wondered what would happen if I held it there forever.
mercymorn the first: ha. = I knew it. I knew it. It is very tiring to be right about everything, but I live with it.
augustine the first: ha! = Clever little joke, sonny!
gideon the first: heh = I have never experienced mirth, nor do I expect to.
pyrrha the first: ha = I am actually the most furious I have ever been in my entire life.
awake rememberance of these valiant dead: haaaaaa = I am disgusted with (but not surprised by) humankind.
john gaius: lollerskates/lollercoaster = Sometime between 2000 and 2004 I was a starred internet forum poster, and someone I chatted with regularly — someone a little older, whom I looked up to, someone with lots of x's in her username — used this word, and I was overcome by impossible coolness. I am now grown, and quite serious, and typically hyper-articulate. But sometimes, when I find something a little funny, I indicate pleasure with an improbable portmanteau like this one, and I feel again that I am young, and excited, and waiting to get online.
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ootahime · 3 years
Text
analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga >:) pt. 3
more and more paragraphs ahead.  BE PREPARED!
i’m also writing this at 3 am so please bear with the horrendous grammar and punctuation.
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chapter 63
i know he’s probably like this with everyone but i love how excited he is bragging about his students to her.  he’s like a child telling his mother about an amazing adventure he had with his friends, making sure he mentions every detail.  in the anime, their conversation lasted for 3:41 :3 backwards 341 is 143 which means i love you.  
1 letter = i
4 letters = love
3 letters = you
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chapter 63
i love her fit!  i also like how both of them like to wear baggy clothing that accentuates their collarbones `w` it’s like they’re matching in a way.  even if she did tell him to cut the crap, she still let him run his mouth to his content LOL i feel like if he didn’t compliment himself at the end, she would have said something different.  UGH HE LOOKS SO HAPPY CALLING HER
 ah, let me translate the conversation just in case anyone needs it.
utahime: you wanted to talk about the investigation, right?
gojo: well, got any idea who?
utahime: i have no idea.  no one seems suspicious.  what do we do now?  should we ask the students for help?
gojo: yeah, that’s fine.  i’m busy so asking the kids would be okay.  keep looking.  i’m counting on you.
I THINK THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE TRYING TO SAY.
OR it could mean that she’s asking if they should start investigating the students.  it would make sense either way because gojo says in the next panel that he doesn’t want to assume that the mole is a student, and in chapter 79, gojo sends the trio to utahime to help her.  
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chapter 63
these two love their students to death.  neither of them wanted to assume that the mole was a student.  in chapter 79, when utahime is talking to the trio about the mole, nobara points out to the group that the traitor must be from kyoto because utahime is the one who’s reaching out to the tokyo side.  utahime has a dismal look on her face, almost like she’s saying, “i didn’t want it to turn out this way -- for this to be true.”  after mechamaru says his farewells to miwa on the train, mai tries to talk about what he did to which utahime says, “it doesn’t matter, he’s dead, after all,” with a similar sunken expression.  i just love how her care for the students is one of the biggest aspects of her personality that’s been showcased so far.  it’s also cool how it ties together with gojo’s belief that no child’s youth should be taken away.  i truly think these two have the capacity to understand each other to a deep level, down to the core.  seeing as utahime is also a teacher, it’s safe to assume that she also wants to raise the next generation of sorcerers to be strong.  utahime and gojo’s similarities and contrasting elements are so interwined, i really wonder if it’s intentional.  like am i looking too much into this?  are utahime and gojo really meant to be this connected?  think about it.  similar motivations, care of the kids, contrasting palettes, the bickering, long history.  IT’S JUST TOO MUCH. 
also can we mention how their phone calls and meetings must be heavily planned out?  this means they’ve talked and interacted with each other A LOT behind the scenes.  she doesn’t answer his call with “what do you want?  don’t bother me on my day off.”  she knows exactly why he’s calling her and they even speak in code.  she probably meets up with him and tells him to call her on a specific day and at a specific time.  they must know each other’s schedules very well in order to execute this investigation in complete secrecy.  when he says, “we can never be too sure who is listening in around utahime” it implies that they find calling a risk, so in order to guarantee that there is no one around, they have to meet up in person.  see where i’m getting at?  they talk A LOTTT and most likely are aware of each other’s daily lives.  
the fact that gojo is her main source of stress when he’s literally a 3 hour train ride away from her is hilarious LMAOOOO.  you know what that means, right?  he must call and text her constantly about random things to annoy her.  
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chapter 65
ah yes, my favorite moment by far.  look at that smile on his face.  
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chapter 65
he loves saying her name.  he probably rushed over with the sole purpose of doing something like this to her LMAOOOO like i mean, mei was in there with her so technically they both needed to be helped but judging from his words and expression, he only wanted to help utahime.  notice how mei’s not there in the debris.  could she possibly have suspected gojo’s presence or an outside force?  or was she fast enough to avoid being in the debris?  either way, her lack of presence in this scene helps highlight the fact that this is a special interaction between utahime and gojo.  he refers to her in a very familiar sense.  the most formal way to address someone is by their last name followed by the honorific, -san.  in gojo’s case, he should be calling her iori-san if they weren’t acquainted.  he doesn’t even bother to call her utahime-senpai.  granted, gojo is not the most respectful and socially competent person out there because geto points this out to him.  he isn’t even aware that she finds him annoying because he views her bad attitude toward him as her just playing along with him.  he probably thinks she’s flirting back LOLOL
since he asks her “you cryin?” that definitely means that gojo witnessed her crying on one occasion or maybe multiple.  who knows, the old utahime could have been a very emotional person.  while this is happening, mei is close to gojo, she then asks him if he would console her if she were to cry in a flirtatious manner.  gojo dismisses her attempt at flirting with him and says she won’t cry because she’s strong.  now normally, you’re supposed to face the person you’re talking to, GOJO.  he KEEPS his eyes on her even when more people come to join the conversation.  
now, we can all agree that geto, mei, and shoko are better at picking up social cues than gojo.  they probably knew the vibe of the conversation and decided to play along with gojo’s antics.  
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chapter 65
WE were worried about you.
pay attention to the order of the characters that show up.  gojo makes his appearance first, then geto, followed by shoko.  based on utahime’s reaction to seeing shoko, it’s evident that these two share a close bond.  shouldn’t shoko be the one to arrive on the scene first?  she’s the closest to utahime and would therefore be more concerned about her condition, right?  i know shoko’s technique doesn’t really allow her to do anything other than treat the wounds of others, but if you heard your friend was missing, you would definitely rush to the scene.  
look at geto’s reaction when mei says, “you’re the one who’s picking on her, geto.  you don’t even know it.”  i think it’s mei who’s saying this because gojo calls geto “suguru”.  but anyway, mei is aware that they’re picking on her.  i don’t think she’s the type to legitimately bully someone for their strength.  her reaction to all of this is very playful and her “heh heh heh” is proof of that.  when geto shows up and swallows the curse before it gets to utahime, he says, “satoru.  it’s not nice to pick on the weak.”  by saying this, he pisses utahime off because he too, is joining in on gojo’s joke.  i believe he’s unaware that he’s making fun of utahime because his reaction is “gah!” with a sweatdrop.  he probably thought gojo was making fun of weak people in general.  
geto’s usually a gentleman seeing as it is canon that he is more popular with girls than gojo.  BUT WHO KNOWS...you gotta be a specific type of person to be best friends with gojo.  maybe he ain’t shit too...  okay, my point is that everyone is just playing along.  when shoko shows up, utahime is relieved to see her because shoko doesn’t tease her like this.  since utahime tells shoko to not become like those two, this implies that geto teases her as well (probably not as much as gojo).  we all know geto is really big on looking out for the weak so he probably wouldn’t have insulted her for real.  
verdict: utahime being weak is just a joke.  i’ve mentioned this so many times, sorry if it’s getting annoying and repetitive hehehehehe...
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chapter 65
these three aren’t irresponsible.  geto and gojo are a troublesome duo for sure, but they’re dependable.  seems unlike them to forget something so simple and essential to pretty much every mission.   
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chapter 65
here’s my headcanon.  they were hanging outside or in the car when their assistant manager got a call.  the assistant was informed that two days have elapsed since mei and utahime went on their mission (or last contacted someone).  
gojo: that’s weird.  mei’s with her so they should have finished exorcising the spirit sooner.
geto: you think something happened to them?  maybe it’s a strong special grade.
gojo: utahime probably dragged mei down with her.  poor mei-san~  
gojo gets up 
geto: where are you going?  
gojo: going to save utahime!  it’s fine i’ll put up a curtain!
manager: gojo wait!!!!!!!!!!!
geto sighs
shoko: that idiot’s always running off without us.
they pin the blame on gojo for saying that he’ll put up a curtain and leaving the assistant manager behind.  you know what this means?  he ran and the manager couldn’t catch up HEHE... why the rush, gojo?  were you actually concerned about her?  
tbh i don’t see gojo ever running to something unless it’s urgent.  the fact that he ran to save her says a lot.  
----
let me know if you have any thoughts or questions!  i forgot to add this but gojo had a more serious expression when he was explaining how they must’ve been trapped in a barrier that messes with time.  he then states, “we thought it was weird even though you’re here, mei.”  i know he was probably worried sick because if mei couldn’t be contacted then that means something must’ve happened to utahime too.  okay that’s it for now.  i’ll be bringing up this little detail i’ve noticed about utahime in the manga next :3
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the-bastards-box · 3 years
Text
Blade meets Dream
Just a little something i wrote with a friend
---------------------------------------------------
Blade was sitting on the ground in a random AU He entered, he wiped the blood from his cheekbone, He's close to crying, He's hugging his knees.
A portal opened with a flash and a skeleton clad in bright gold and blues walked through. His eyelights immediately fell on Blade and he took a step towards him, worry coloring his expression.
"Hello?"
Blade looked at him, his expression is sad, he feels betrayed, He's watching Dream, not really trusting him, He's wearing a Hood over his head.
Dream knelt a safe distance from Blade. As he got closer, Blade could feel an aura of warmth gently radiating from him.
"Hi, I'm Dream... I felt a strong presence of anguish and I came to se if i could help." Dream smiled slightly.
Blade curled up more, "I . . . I Dunno if you can . . ." Blade wiped the blood again.
"I can certainly try though." Dream got a little closer, his soothing positive aura getting slightly stronger. "What's your name?"
"B-Blade . . ." He slightly calmed down due to Dream' aura.
"Nice to meet you Blade." Dream paused and decided to rest where he was at, sitting cross legged. "Mind telling me what's bothering you?"
"I had an argument with someone . . ."
Dream winces reflexively, if the blood was anything to go by... "I'm sorry, that... that looks like it didn't end well. Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good listener... I also usually give pretty sound advice."
"This . . . person . . . wanted me to do some . . . stuff . . . and in the past they forced me to do . . . similar things . . ." A quick check of Blade' stats would show that he has a rather high LV.
Dream did just that and held a hand over his mouth in shock. He felt sickened by what he was hearing but he wanted to be sure. "By forcing you to do some stuff... do you mean killing other monsters?"
Blade hesitantly nodded at the question.
Dream inched forward. "You don't have to do anything they say anymore. I'll make sure of that." He hesitantly reached out and placed a comforting hand on Blade.
"r-really? I . . . He's pretty scary when he's angry . . . Wouldn't hesitate to kill you . . . I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me . . . because of my stupid problems . . . "
"I can be scary when i'm angry too. Don't worry, i'm a hard monster to kill. Besides..." Dream chuckled lightly. "He can't be any worse than my own brother."
"What's your brother like?"
"Haha oh man, he's... he's something. Stubborn, prideful, really smart! But terrible at card games." Dream chuckles. "...He's also... kind of a malevolent god of negativity?"
"oh" Blade wiped the blood flowing from his cheekbone again.
"Yeah... family get togethers are awkward heh." Dream jokes. "Hey uh... do you mind if... is it ok if I heal that?" Dream points to his own cheekbone.
"it's okay . . ."
Dream knee walked so he was kneeling in front of Blade and reached out to hold his face in his hands. He wiped some tears from his face and gave Blade a small smile.
"Ready?"
Blade nodded slightly.
Dream closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his magic flow to his hands. Warmth spread from his fingertips, pleasant and soothing. Dream's magic took away all the pain away almost instantly, and with how close they were Blade could smell the faint scent of sunlight and apples wafting off of him.
Blade is looking at Dream, he relaxed.
Dream opens his eyes and meets Blade's gaze. He blushes lightly and releases Blade's face, letting his hands fall in his lap. The wound on his face was completely healed, nothing left but a fresh scar.
"th-thanks . . ." There's a light red blush on Blade' cheekbones.
Dream smiles and lets out a little chuckle, feeling giddy from the positive energy being reflected back at him. "No problem."
Blade is quiet, he continues looking at Dream.
Dream stares back for a moment, looking into blades eyes, before jumping slightly and rummaging through his inventory. "Oh! Uh here." Dream pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to Blade. "F-for the blood." He stutters.
Blade takes the handkerchief and wipes the blood from his face and hands, one of his fingers is missing, "thanks . . ."
"Again, no problem.... is.. is your hand ok though? does it need healing?"
Blade shook his head, not really aware of what Dream was talking about.
Dream tilted his head to the side. "Can I ask what happened?" Dream points to his own hand where Blade's missing finger was.
Blade realized what Dream was talking about, he frowned and looked away, " . . . I dunno if i want to talk about it now . . ."
"Ok! Um, sorry... I shouldn't have pried." Dream rubbed the back of his skull awkwardly.
"no worries . . ."
Dream nodded and stood up with a stretch. "Well! My new friend, is there anything else i can do for you?" Dream gave Blade a lopsided smile.
"I dunno . . . I guess I'll just sit here for a while and come back there to apologize to that person . . ."
"Apologize? You're not talking about the person who was making you..." Dream trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
"If i don't apologize to him then I won't have anywhere to go . . . so yeah . . ." Blade lowered his head, not really happy about his idea.
"You're more than welcome to come with me."
"r-really?" Blade looked at Dream, "are you sure?"
"Definitely! I can't leave you here with them on a good conscience... and I always have room for others." Dream smiles wide. "It'd be fun."
"o-okay" Blade stood up and dusted himself off.
"Oh good! Do you want to go now then? Orrrrr!" Dream slightly bounces in place out of excitement. "Is there anything you need to grab or do before taking off?"
"we can go now . . ."
Dream opens a portal with a wave and holds out his hand to Blade. "Let us leave then."
Blade hesitantly grabs his hand.
Dream walks backwards and pulls him through the portal into the bright sun. They were at the edge of a meadow with a large two story cottage in the center surrounded by variously flowers in bloom and couple trees growing right up on it. The place looked welcoming and cozy.
Dream looked at Blade with a grin. "Welcome to your new home."
"wow . . ." Blade is amazed by this view, He's smiling slightly.
"You like it then?"
"yeah!"
"I know!" Dream chuckles. "Would you like the grand tour?"
Blade nodded slightly while looking around.
Dream, who hadn't let go of Blade' hand, made his way up a dirt path towards the quaint little house. The tall flowering grasses swayed gently in the breeze and brushed at the two skeletons as they walked by.
Blade is looking at Dream, a slight blush on his cheekbones.
Dream opened the front door and held it for Blade. "Beauty before age." He winked with a little bow.
Blade blushed a bit more and walked inside, he's looking around.
The cottage has a very open floorplan with the kitchen and livingspace in the same room and just a single hallway in the back leading to a staircase and a couple extra rooms. It's cluttered but well organized.
Dream has a collection of books and mementos overflowing from shelves and several potted plants on tables and hanging from the ceiling. the kitchen looks bright and airy and the livingroom looks cozy with two armchairs and a loveseat in front of a fireplace.
Blade likes the house, "it looks nice"
"Thank you!" Dream puffed out his chest a bit, proud. "I built it myself."
"really?"
"Yeah! Well, my brother kinda layed waste to this au... I still wanted to live here though, it was our home..." Dream trailed off, he looked out a window wistfully for a second before snapping out of it and grinning at Blade. "But that's ok, just meant everything got a fresh start!"
"yeah"
"There's a spare room upstairs though. It really doesn't have much but you're welcome to stay in it for as long as you want."
"Thank you . . . I Dunno really what to do for you in return for this . . ."
"You really don't need to do anything." Dream beams at blade and leans against the back of the loveseat. "I honestly get everything out of making others happy... helping you out legitimately fuels me."
Blade nods slowly, "s-so . . . Uh . . . W-what do you like to do in your f-free time . . .?"
"I do a lot of things. I practice archery, bake, garden... I can play the harmonica!Not that great at it though." Dream chuckles "I'm a bit tone deaf. Not like that'll stop me or anything. What about you?" Dream tilted his head questioningly.
"I like to cook, bake too, sometimes i knit and sew" Blade said a bit shyly.
"Quality skills to have." Dream compliments.
"th-thanks"
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scathecraw · 3 years
Text
BBRae Week 2021 - Day 1: Unconventional Kiss
Raven had been dancing around the issue for weeks now, and both she and Gar knew it. There had been a few near misses after a date gone well, a few breathless close calls during training, and one precipitous moment in the kitchen that fell apart when the smoke detector signaled their distraction.
They had been good dates. Very good dates, to be quite honest. Raven had expected that they would go nearly that well, and that had been why she had held off for so long. With all the emotional vulnerability and insightful talks and fantastic company and so many other things that came with dating someone you had been attracted to for years, she knew that the other shoe would drop, and she would have to just plunge in headfirst. And Gar had been patient – he wasn’t one to rush, especially with her. But he wanted it. And, god help her, she wanted it, too.
A perfect first kiss. The First Kiss, for both of them, hung up on each other for so long that they had never made any real attempts to find anyone else. Kori’s magazines had promised that the first kiss was always awkward and had to be refined by, hrm,repeated practice, but that was only a small part of the fear that gripped Raven when she thought of actually, really putting lips to lips.
It wasn’t Gar. She fully expected him to be just as bad as she was for a while (and likely longer given how quick she could pick things up). It wasn’t even what might… come after. Not as such. It was just… just… it was Important. Capital “I” Important – that things go well. Despite the promise of a bad first kiss by seemingly everyone who had ever kissed, it had to go right. Too wet or too dry, wrong head tilt, wrong duration, whatever – but she wanted to kiss him and do it over and over again and what if he didn’t want to or what if there was no chemistry or what if she sneezed or got so nervous she vomited or any number of things that would, according to all her latest nightmares, put him off wanting her the way she wanted him.
And he seemed so damn blithe about it. Like he couldn’t be less worried, even though she had felt his pulse race and could practically hear his internal monologue turning into a full blown soliloquy. He had that placid smile and those sparkling eyes and smelled like warmth and pine and it was so stupid how he wouldn’t just admit how nervous he was so they could be nervous together.
No, she had to be the mature one and feel all the butterflies for them both. She could practically hear his corny joke about never getting butterflies because he was vegetarian. Stupid Gar and stupid kissing.
It would happen. She would make it happen. And it wouldn’t be perfect, or probably even a very good kiss, but it would be right. Eventually.
____
There was an awful lot of noise and fleeing civilians for an evening out, even at the pier.
Nightwing sighed from atop his favorite ride at the boardwalk, the Ferris Wheel, as he retrieved his communicator and alerted the team. “Titans, we’ve got work to do. Something big is causing trouble at the east entrance. Star and I are on our way and will meet you there.” With that, he stood up in the precariously rocking carriage and Starfire lifted him by the arms, taking off in the direction of the disturbance. Cyborg, heretofore incognito on a date, immediately excused himself and waded through the crowds, shedding his holo-disguise. He was alerted to his passing teammates by a green blur, and called out to Raven as she passed, asking for a ride on one of her ink-black levitating discs. She obliged and they took off after Changeling’s racing avian form.
Gar was the fastest one to respond in these situations. Superhuman reactions and mobility got him to the trouble faster than any of his teammates, and he was proud of it. It meant that he was the first one to  engage the enemy, which was a dangerous gambit when he didn’t know what the enemy was, but someone had to be first on the line when every second was a danger to innocent people. In this case, it was more an annoyance than any real threat. Kitten was throwing a very public and destructive temper tantrum, as she tended to do within a few weeks of release/escape.
Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Fang, was nearby and suffering the brunt of the auditory assault while a swarm of mutated grubs ate their way through stalls and prizes alike. Kitten was waving the control device as she gesticulated wildly, and the chance to end the whole debacle in one fell swoop was too tempting.
Without waiting for backup or giving away his presence, Changeling darted forward as a seagull, beak agape as he neared the remote. He had timed it perfectly, if not for Fang’s suddenly outstretched spiderleg. The blow sent him tumbling into a pile of cheap stuffed animals and he transformed back into himself. The arguing couple immediately turned their ire on him without ever stopping their argument.
“And now look what you’ve done! Your stupidity got this idiot involved! Why couldn’t you just win me a stupid teddy bear like a normal boyfriend?” Kitten raged as she hammered at the controller, causing the grubs to turn their attention towards the dazed and prone Changeling. Fang launched webbing at him, working at cross purposes as the grubs and giving Changeling just enough time to roll out of the way.
“This is not my fault. You know these games are rigged! Why would I give the money I stole to these scam artists?”
“Because you are supposed to! It’s what boyfriends do! They do stupid stuff because I want you TO!” Kitten screamed and threw her remote onto the ground where it cracked and fizzled. Instead of the expected de-metamorphosis from vicious gnawing grubs to harmless caterpillars, there was a rumbling from deep inside the snack stall and a mass exodus of larvae from the vicinity. Gar had just gotten to his feet when a much larger, toothier, and more armored wriggler burst from the shoddy wooden confines, writhing and shrieking even more shrilly than Kitten, and headed directly towards her and Fang in a headlong charge.
Apparently Kitten’s shouting was enough to distract both of them from their imminent death by squirming tank, and Changeling had to make a tough split-second decision – let them suffer the consequences of their own stupidity, or put himself in harm’s way to save them.
It wasn’t much of a choice. Leaping forward, he transformed into a rhino, a fast moving locomotive of heavy armor and muscle and slammed headfirst into the tank sized larva, diverting it and being whipped aside by the unexpected followthrough of the tail end of the grub.
Raven’s disk touched down just in time to see his head collide with a thick support post that held up the boardwalk, and the sounds of argument fell silent as Kitten and Fang wordlessly assessed the situation and fled. Cyborg called out “Get B. I’ll get the worm,” and launched after the creature.
Raven raced to Garfield’s side, seeing the heavy gash and road rash from sliding across the wood. She assessed him as quickly as possible, noting the broken ribs, bleeding, and, most concerning, the lack of breathing. She channeled her power, reaching her soulself into the unmoving shapeshifter on the ground, and urgently repaired his most vital injuries.
The head wound would wait, they always bled more and looked worse than they were. First the broken ribs, eased out and stabilized enough to hold for a little while. Then the badly punctured lung. As the trapped air was removed and the hole patched, she expected him to cough, sit up, and make a dumb joke. Instead he just lay there, silent. His pulse was fine, and there was no reason for him to be so still.
She did all the steps that the Titans’ first aid training laid out for her, making sure his airway was clear, no pressure preventing his breathing or hidden wounds that would cause more damage, then started mouth to mouth.
It only took a few breaths, as if his body had simply not realized for some seconds that he was able to breathe normally again, before the first unassisted rasps began. Raven let out a sob of relief, feeling like his breath resuming was directly connected to her own oxygen. She continued healing him, clearing his head of blood and strengthening the broken ribs before his eyes opened with a groan.
“Did ya get the license of that truck that hit me?” he said, weakly.
Raven nearly hit him. “That was by far the stupidest thing I have ever seen you do. What were you thinking, charging in like that?”
“Aww c’mon, Rae. I had ta’. And I’m sure you’ve seen me do stupider things.”
“None of them had you puncture a lung and stop breathing, you fool. You didn’t need emergency resuscitation when you tried to do a standing backflip.” A jolt of power zapped him with an icicle of cold to the chest, and he coughed.
“At least I stuck the landing this time, heh. I think I can sit up. Thanks for fixing me up, Doctor Rae.”
She glared, and kept glaring as Nightwing checked in. Fang and Kitten had been apprehended almost peacefully by him and Starfire, and Cyborg had incapacitated the grub easily. She reported the situation, not once taking her eyes off her idiot of a boyfriend.
He rolled to his feet, only a little gingerly, and retrieved the broken pieces of the remote control for Cyborg to repair and reverse the changes to the swarm.
As he stooped down to pick up the last pieces, he stopped, and a look of realization dawned on him.
“Wait, you gave me CPR? Like, mouth-to-mouth?”
“Of course. You weren’t breathing and you needed oxygen before any working brain cells died.”
“Y’know,” he said, sitting back down beside her, “I think that counts as our first kiss.”
Raven went still. It couldn’t. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was legitimate medical treatment. But then again, it wasn’t very good, it was at a weird angle, and there was even the terrible fear that she’d vomit out of worry. It checked all the boxes for the perfect terrible first kiss.
He interrupted her musing, “Too bad I don’t remember it. Maybe we could see if trying again might jog some memories.” He reached his arm across her shoulders, waggling his eyebrows.
“Oh shut up,” she said, and pulled him in for a completely butterfly-free second first kiss.
AO3 FF.net
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Fic snippet (in which John Doe makes a joke)
(We're all very proud of him.)
(Trying to get fic finished by tomorrow night. We shall see!)
-------------------------
They’d hoped to find an exit, but it’s beginning to look like there isn’t one.
It’s like the King wanted this palace so insular that he made the portals the only legitimate way out.
John is grumpy about it, and keeps slipping up. It’s changed since I was here. All right? It’s… it’s different.
“Since you were here?” says Arthur.
Since the… version of… my timeline, damn it, Arthur.
“Sure.”
Arthur is grumpy, too. He’s been going for hours on a plate of apple and carrots and cheese, and while it was pretty darn good, he doesn’t exactly have any energy reserves to spare.
He’s hungry, and faint, and tired. More importantly, he knows something is wrong with John.
He doesn’t know what, but something is off. Something has changed.
Also, he really doesn’t like feeling trapped. “Next time we pass that damned ocean view, maybe we should try to climb out and swim around the palace.”
We’d just die, Arthur. Those are Deep Ones in the water. They’d fuck you, then kill you, or kill you, then fuck you,  but either way, it wouldn’t go well for us.
Arthur’s face is burning, and John wouldn’t have known that without his newest trick. “Then why the hell are there so many openings staring out at them?”
Why not? It’s a pretty view, and it’s not like they can kill or fuck the King. Would you brick up a window just because there are squirrels outside?
“These things seem a lot more dangerous than squirrels.”
Not if you’re a nut. There’s a pause. Arthur, that means you’re -
“Yes, yes, that makes me a nut, I get it.”
Heh, heh, heh. You’re a nut, Arthur.
Arthur does not reveal just how much he liked that joke.
He thinks John is cute, sometimes.
He also doesn’t want to risk a fight by teasing him with that right now. He doesn’t have the energy.
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Text
More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 1
Summary:
Another day, another dollar at your new job in the CIA offices. You thought this was your dream job. So why is everything so... Boring? But before you can make up your mind to quit, a chance encounter with a certain Marine may just prove to be the start of exactly the kind of excitement you've been looking for.
Tags: Slow burn
Next Chapter Here! | Warnings: None except Frank's language lmao
You smooth your skirt and touch up your lipstick for what feels like the tenth time today as you shift in your office chair. It’s not normally like you to be the nervous type, but ever since you landed this gig in the CIA, you’ve been on your toes. ‘Relax’, your coworkers say, ‘You’re doing fine!’.
But just ‘fine’ never quite suited you. Especially with top tier agents like Russell Adler and Jason Hudson walking around…
No, “fine” doesn’t cut it.
But... you have to admit, the stress of keeping up a tough work ethic is getting to you. Just a bit. All the hustle and bustle in this place, and for what? You shake your head out. No no, there’s no time for thoughts like that. You just have to keep pushing through and you’ll get over it.
Right?
You sigh in dismay, not entirely sure you believe yourself, before snapping to attention as your desk phone rings. With a curt response, you pick up and receive yet another task to fetch papers.
“Yes Sir”
... and a coffee.
“...Of course, Sir”.
You click the phone into its receiver and slump back into your chair, feeling more defeated now then ever.
If you wanted to run around doing errands all day, you would’ve moved back in with your mother. When were you going to get up to something… Exciting? Maybe not in the dangerous, life threatening way, but… Well… Anything must be better than this.
These thoughts swirl in your mind to and from the fax machine, to the break room, and all the way to your supervisor's desk.
“Anything else for me Sir?”
The man in question hardly even gives you a second look as he shuffles through the papers and sips the piping hot drink, “No, that’ll b- Wait, actually…”, he turns around in his office chair and flips quickly through folders in a filing cabinet.
At last, he turns around and hands you one such folder as you bite back a scream. “Could you fax these off for me?”, he scribbles down the receiving address on a post it note and slaps it on top, “Send em here, here, and here”.
You give a sharp nod and a “Yes Sir”, before turning and leaving on a dime.
The skin around your eyes and throat feel tight, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think you were on the brink of tears. Who are you kidding…. This isn’t at all what you were expecting. Maybe you’d be better off looking for something else, at least then you wouldn’t be so miserable all the ti-
Then, just as you’re lost in your day dreams, you next find yourself flat on the carpeted floor.
Your papers scatter all around, and it has just now occurred to you that you’ve bounced off another human being. Perhaps you should save the disparaging thoughts for your office from now on... Well, assuming you aren’t about to be fired on the spot.
For a moment, that doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, and you decide to take your time sitting up.
“Oh fuck, sorry”
You look up, following the sound of a gruff man’s voice.
Marine Sergeant Frank Woods towers above you, looking almost as powerful in this moment and from your unfortunate perspective as all the stories make him out to be. Your heart races in your chest as it gives way to panic. Now you’re really in for it.
“Oh! N-no, I’m so sorry, I uh- I should watch where I’m going”, you spit out an apology and an excuse all in one go as you maneuver quickly to pick up your scattered array of papers.
Frank watches you for a moment, mildly disinterested, and looking as though he’s about to shrug it off and walk away. You are right after all, you should watch where you're going. But then again... he could say the same for himself.
“Ah, don’t sweat it kid. Here”, Woods slowly leans down, perhaps giving his knees a chance to adjust from the previous lack of activity, and helps you gather up your things.
You appreciate the help, but can’t help but cringe a bit as you watch him grab the papers by the fistful, crinkling them slightly. Regardless, he shuffles the papers into a uniform stack before flicking his gaze back up to you, “Ther- Hey, wait a minute… Haven't I seen you around here before?”
You think for a split second, but you’re quite sure he hasn’t.
“No no, I have! Yeah, you’re the one that walks around looking pissed all the time”, he laughs, “Damn, I gotta say, you scare the shit outta me even! No wonder these bastard’s brought you on”.
Before you can even catch up to what he's saying, he has himself nearly in stitches laughing at your expense.
The urge comes over you to retort that there are plenty of legitimate reasons you were hired, and, more importantly, you are not “pissed all the time”, but before you can even open your mouth, you find you’ve lost your train of thought.
No, instead you find yourself immensely distracted by the Sargent’s laugh. Not so much the fact that he’s having the time of his life at your expense, but more so just… the sound of it.
It comes more like long, drawn out wheezes, only interrupted by gasps of air that sounds more like choking, before devolving into something more steady at least, but just as strange. You could only describe it as somewhere between grunting and barking. From this alone, you can tell he smokes too much and perhaps isn’t use to laughing this hard either.
What that says about you, you’d rather not think about. Instead, you find your mask of professionalism slipping as the corner of your glossy lips curls up into a smile.
You never thought such annoying, and obnoxious laughter could be contagious, and yet here you are trying, yet failing, to hold back some snickering of your own.
“Ah, shit…”, Woods drags his forearm across his eyes to dry them before fixing his gaze back on you, “You know... I think that is the happiest I’ve ever seen you around here. Is this place that shitty?”, he hands you back your papers at last as the creases at the corners of his eye furrow in mirth.
For a second, you’re worried he’s about to break into laughter again as he’s sure to drag you along with him this time, but instead he simply waits quietly, and you get the feeling he expects an answer.
“Well… Not in those words perhaps. It’s just, not what I expected I guess...”, you look away, not to sure what to say and yet feeling a little sadly now, as you shuffle the papers together and neatly place the crumpled stack back in the folder.
“Yeah, I get that… Heh, I wish I could be out in the field right now, you know? I mean fuck, there must be someone who needs killing, right?”, Woods huffs a few dry chuckles, looking at you as though he expects you to laugh.
You do not.
Instead, you offer an awkward smile and nod, not sure how to respond to such a grisly statement. Let alone one that’s meant to be taken as a joke. Woods coughs into his fist, then goes to stand abruptly.
“Anyway, I have shit to do”, he waits a just a moment in politeness until you’re standing as well before giving his final parting statement, “Later”
“Ahem, goodbye Sarg-”, but it’s too late, he’s already trudging off.
You blink, feeling bewildered at the twists and turns that interaction had to offer. Fortunately, you have more important matters to attend to as well, rather than let yourself be distracted by… whatever that was.
Suddenly you remember why you dislike working with the frontline troops.
Frank’s blood pressure feels like it’s going to explode through the top of his head. His knuckles are clenched white as he storms out of the building. Once outside, he stops to take a smoke break.
His head is pounding as he fumbles for a cigarette and then at long last he finally manages to retrieve his lighter as well.
Why the fuck would he say something like that? “there must be someone who needs killing”, yeah real smooth Frank, what a line...
He flicks the lighter spark again and again, but it refuses to catch. “Fuck!”, frustration overcomes him as he gives up and shoves it back in his pocket, throwing the unlit cigarette to the ground too for good measure.
That was the longest interaction he’s had with a woman in… in…
Well, he can’t even remember! And yet, he still managed to fuck it up.
Woods slams the door of his car shut behind him and takes a moment to cool off there in the seat.
You must think he’s some kind of psychopath.
Frank catches his reflection in the rearview mirror. If Mason was here, he’d say you’d be right. He jerks the mirror away so he can’t see himself anymore. Bastard. He snorts out a sigh and rubs a hand over his eyes as he tries to let the embarrassment go.
He needs a drink.
The ignition whines and after a few tries it finally starts up. Ah well, he reasons, maybe if he’s lucky he won’t see you again.
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raziroo · 3 years
Text
Chapter Four | I Take A Liking To Lilac All Of A Sudden
Pairing: Lotor x Reader (There you go)
Genre: Angst? I don't knowww
Warnings: Mentions of cancer, mild swearing
Word Count: 1,676
Author’s Note: This is kind of a filler? I can't write long shit in one sitting, so. It's important to reader and lotor's relationship, tho.
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‘Good luck. Come back alive, all of you, alright?’ I asked, my eyes roving over the three people standing before me – Matt, Pidge, and Shiro. ‘It’s, like, one of the simplest things you could do. You give Lotor, you get Mr. Holt. Simple. Very simple and easily doable. Right?’ My gaze dragged over all of them once more as I picked at my nails nervously. As much as I was aware of the fact that this trade wasn’t simple and easily doable, I knew that I would legitimately have a nervous breakdown if I didn’t spew lies through my teeth.
Shiro smiled at me lightly. ‘Of course. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong. You guys take care too.’
‘If, however, anything happens,’ Allura chided, ‘the other lions will arrive as soon as possible.’
‘Yeah,’ Pidge said with a wry smirk, ‘so try not to pass out.’
‘Okay,’ I nodded my head rapidly, ‘yeah, okay, I – I can do that.’
‘Good. Well, we’ll get going then,’ Shiro announced, and turned around, the others following him.
Hopefully, all would go well.
. . . . .
You know what? Everything actually went relatively well. Yes, my hunch turned out to be correct and Zarkon chose to go through with the ‘I was lying all along! Bwahahaha!’ route and ended up getting himself killed at the hands of his son, but overall, I’d say it was a win-win, seeing that we got Pidge’s father back (thank God, who knows what havoc she’d wreak if we ended up not getting Sam back) and the evil maniacal tyrant who’d been ruling over the universe for ten thousand years died.
The one downside was that now there needed to be a new Emperor, because following Zarkon’s death, not only the Galra empire, but simultaneously the entire universe had gone into a state of chaos too. There was no doubt that underlings and generals would try to take over smaller parts of the empire, and once that happened, Voltron being able to do anything would be a stretch.
And, according to Lotor, a ceremony to crown the new emperor, the Kral Zera, would now be taking place. Once he said that, he really didn’t need to say more – it was obvious what his implications were. A new emperor was to be crowned, and if Voltron was to achieve peace, Lotor would have to go and secure the throne. It was a sensible thought to be had, no problem. The thing was, to reach the Kral Zera, which was taking place in two days, in itself was a decision to be taken with utmost thought. The Paladins just didn’t have enough time to decide.
On the one hand, Shiro and Lotor were adamant that the latter be crowned emperor; the other Paladins, however, were justifiably hesitant. I had been standing there listening to them going back and forth, not saying a word myself, like always.
To be honest, I just wanted to go sleep. For some reason, I’d been feeling overly anxious these past few days. White was still not responding to me, I was having regular dreams about the day I woke up here. It was always that one day, that first conversation I had with Shiro. It was as if my subconsciousness too wanted me to reach out to Shiro because there was clearly something weird going on with him.
My suspicions only solidified when I heard Shiro’s voice boom through the room. My head snapped up. Lance with a look of shock and the slightest bit of fear on his face, Shiro’s visage twisted with uncharacteristic anger.
‘Shiro. I think you should just relax a little.’ The man turned to me, brows pinched.
‘I am relaxed -’
‘No, I really think you aren’t… so, like… take it easy, yeah?’ I asked, jumping my eyebrows, arms still folded in front of me, maintaining a calm yet defensive posture. I could feel the entire room’s gazes on me. After all, I almost never spoke in such discussions, or any discussions, really, and indirectly opposing Shiro, of all people, was way too brave a thing for me to do.
Shiro looked at me with slight disbelief, a glint in his eye challenging me to speak up. ‘You want me to take it easy? Take it easy? The fate of the universe depends on this, taking it easy is really not an option right now. I’ve put my foot down – as the Leader of Voltron, I’ve taken this decision. You aren’t someone befitted to oppose me.’
Ok, wow. Everyone shared the same opinion apparently, as now the silence seemed piercing. Clicking my tongue, I tilted my head. ‘Well, maybe not as a Paladin, which I’m not, or a member of the coalition. But as a friend, Shiro, you’ve been acting strange. Everyone realises this. You realise this. … Maybe, I don’t know… maybe all this reflecting on you’ve been doing, maybe the role of leader is taking a toll on you? I, heh,’ I chuckle, ‘I really am not sure. But you’re not relaxed, and you’re not acting yourself.’
‘Could you please not tell me how to be a Paladin?’
‘While you all waste time squabbling, sinister forces are conspiring to fill the Galra power void. If I don’t return to claim the throne, there’s no telling who will.’
Does being royalty instantly make you a hundred times more dramatic? Sinister forces? Deadass?
I walked out.
. . . . .
Shiro went behind our back.
Yeah.
Acting like a complete bitch, he took Lotor to the Kral Zera, where, for your information, he could’ve been blown up. By Keith.
I wanted to deck Shiro. Instead, I visited White. I had hopes she’d respond to me, since I’d been brave and spoken my mind. I prayed on all the Gods and Deities above that my expectations became reality.
Yeah, they didn’t. She didn’t budge. The whole entire two goddamned hours I sat in front of White, she ignored me. Frustrated, I ended up punching her, resulting in bleeding knuckles. Lotor saw that, by the way. He seemed to always be keeping an eye on White, regardless of me being there or not, which I admit is a little strange, but I wasn’t judging. These aliens seemed to worship the Lions.
Lotor also invited us to the Galra headquarters, and lord oh my lord, was it fancy. Allura had gone off to do research with Lotor (I’d been about to make a joke about what “research” those two were really about to do, if you catch my drift, but then I saw Lance looking at the pair glumly, and thought better of it. I’d lightly punched Lance on the shoulder, and raised my eyebrows so as to say ‘They’re gorgeous aliens who could give Bella Hadid and Harry Styles a run for their money, it can’t be helped.’ He laughed.) I accompanied Hunk, Lance and Pidge in their shenanigans for a while, but ended up wandering around the place.
Space was beautiful. Even through a window, I wanted to just stare at it for as long as I could, enjoying a show more realistic than ever before. It was really similar to all the Marvel movies I’d watched; I felt a weird sense of pride at that realization. I remembered how I’d cried at the end of Infinity War, my friends clinging to me and bawling as well; how loud I’d squealed at an absolutely steamy piece of Kakashi fanart Cory had drawn; how happy I’d been when Sasha, my neighbour and childhood friend, had come out victorious after battling cancer for years.
I hadn’t realized when the tears had started slipping down my cheeks. I wiped at them, but they wouldn’t go. Sniffling and wiping so furiously my skin would get burned when I heard footsteps, I turned to see Lotor approaching me.
‘Hey -’ shit, my voice was so thick. Clearing my throat obnoxiously loud, I greeted him again. ‘Hey, uh… what… how’s yours and Allura’s research going?’
‘The research has been going quite smoothly.’
‘Hmm. Nice.’
Lotor was staring – no, correction - scrutinising me. I could feel it, his intense as hell eyes burning into the side of my face. I wasn’t going to give up, though. I stared at the window with as much concentration as he me.
He was the first to speak up. Ha.
‘You’re not of the Paladins.’
‘Really? I didn’t know, thanks,’ I still wasn’t looking at him.
‘Deepest apologies if I offended you -’
‘You didn’t, it’s okay.’
‘…’
‘…’
‘…If you wish to answer, why do you appear… distant, compared to the other Paladins? You say they are your friends, but there’s such scarce interaction… you seem acquaintances at best.’
‘… They are my friends. I like to think so, because, well… because I don’t have anyone to go back home to.’
‘Oh. My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘You didn’t pry, chill. It’s not that my family’s dead or anything, it’s just that… no, well, my family is dead, but… like, they’ve been dead for around three hundred or so years…?’ I turned to Lotor, brows furrowed. He looked less confused than me.
‘Sorry, no, that’s – that’s shit explanation, um… you could say… I… I’ve lived past my time. I’m alive when I’m not supposed to be.’
I didn’t explicitly mention, as you can see, that I was a time traveller, because I wasn’t really one with that fact yet. I’d accepted it, yes, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. It was still a foreign truth, something I didn’t take great joy in talking or thinking about.
When I turned to Lotor, I felt like he’d understood what he needed to already.
It was bizarre. A lilac alien was the last person I would expect to understand me so easily, but it was what it was.
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