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avocad1s · 10 months

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: At last The Creator has returned from Celestia with a new view on how to protect Teyvat. However, the greatest mystery is shrouded behind cracked facades. The fragments will be uncovered at last.

Characters Mentioned: A ton of characters mentioned and included

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned.

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Seven Part Eight (You are here) THE END

It took only a few weeks for the word to spread all throughout Teyvat that the one they had been worshiping for decades wasn’t the real Creator. Many were distraught and confused by the news and rightfully so, that imposter had been the only “Creator” they’ve known their entire lives. All everyone wanted to do know is meet their true Creator or have the chance to simply rest their gaze upon them.

Unfortunately for the Traveler, as more and more people became aware of her involvement, the more letters and gifts she was given addressed to the Creator. It only took a week until she had to keep the gifts in her Serenitea Pot, since she had too many to carry now. But letters weren’t just sent to her for the Creator, many of her powerful friends like the Kamisato siblings, Ningguang, and the Acting Grand Master would invite her to dinner and ask how the Creator was like so they can prepare for their return.

However Lumine couldn’t lie, she was just as anxious for their return like everyone else. Even though she should just move on to the next nation to complete her quest of meeting the Seven, she finds herself stalling hoping that once the Creator comes back to Teyvat she’d be the first person they’ll greet. Yet maybe that’s just her being delusional, surely the Creator wouldn’t come see an Outlander before anyone else, before the Archons.

Lumine lets out a frustrated sigh as strikes down the final hilichurl in the camp before putting her sword away. Thinking about her brother that she missed dearly was the main thing keeping her mind off the Creator, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Aether would’ve thought of them. During her journeys with Dainsleif, she knew that her brother hated the Archons and he chosen the Abyss over humanity, but would that include the Creator too? She completely understands why he would have reservations about the Archons, but the feeling she got just being near the Creator felt like she could trust them with her life.

“Hey Lumine?”

The Traveler wipes the sweat off her brow noticing that Paimon was back next to her, “what is it? Don’t tell me you’re hungry again.”

Paimon scoffs crossing her arms, “firstly, Paimon is always hungry. Secondly, Paimon was worried about you. You are taking more commissions than usual. Are you alright?”

Paimon was right, even though the Traveler was known for her hardworking and selfless nature, she was definitely overdoing it.

Lumine breathes out feeling fatigue growing through her body, “I feel completely fine.”

Paimon frowns, “will you take a break, please?”

The Traveler wanted to ignore her friend’s worries but she lets out a sigh nodding, “alright. Should we head to the City and order some food?”

The fairy’s eyes light up but she shakes her head, “you know Paimon enjoys your cooking much more!” Lumine knows that Paimon only said that so she wouldn’t be bombarded with letters and gifts for the Creator, but she decides not to say anything.

Lumine and Paimon work together to construct a campfire, once finished, Lumine begins preparing something random for the two of them to share.

“So are you going to ask the Creator about your brother?” Paimon asks breaking the silence that was once between them.

Lumine tears her gaze of the flame looking at Paimon, “they haven’t been on Teyvat in hundreds of years. I doubt they know anything about him.”

“Yeah but they are the Creator. They have a connection to Teyvat that no one else has.”

Lumine shrugs, “well that’s if we ever see them again.”

Paimon tilts her head confusion laced in her voice, “why wouldn’t we see them again. They are our friend after all.”

The Creator is the most important person in this world, and know that everyone knows they’ll be back soon, they may not have any time for Lumine to ask them anything.

“Paimon’s right, we’re friends!”

Lumine snaps her head in the direction of the voice a feeling of hope in her chest.

Just a meter away, the Creator stood giving them a small smile and a wave before approaching their makeshift campsite. They sit in the soft grass next to Lumine crossing their legs comfortably. “Why wouldn’t I make time for you?”

The Traveler stares at them with wide eyes, “you’re back?”

They nod, “sorry for keeping you waiting. Being in Celestia took longer than I expected.”

“Oh right! Paimon forgot about that. How did that go?”

They sigh, “I think Celestia and I came to an understanding, but I’ll tell you about it later. How’s Teyvat been?”

“The Fatui and I managed to spread the word of the imposter. Now everyone knows you’re the real deal.”

The Creator smiles at the Outlander causing the girl to feel a warmth spread throughout her chest.

“I will never forget everything you did for me Lumine, and if you ever need anything at all. Please do not hesitate to ask.”

Paimon nudges the girls shoulder.

“Actually there is one thing I’d like to ask.” Lumine says sheepishly.

“Oh you do? What is it?”

Lumine lets out a sigh before telling the Creator everything that lead up to her getting to this world. The Unknown God, her brother, Khaenri’ah, everything. She tells them about her quest of meeting the Seven to see if any of them was this God that separated her and her brother.

The Creator gives her a sympathetic smile, “I am sorry about all of the things you had went through I had no idea, but regarding your brother, I have met him.”

Paimon and Lumine both look shocked at their confession. “When? What did he say?”

“It was before I confronted the Imposter, I didn’t know he was your brother. He didn’t mention anything, and when I met him I couldn’t see his face clearly to see any resemblance to you.” The Creator explains. “We didn’t talk about much, we were interrupted before he could tell me anything important.”

Lumine looks down disappointedly as the Creator reaches over patting her shoulder, “don’t look so down. You’re still looking for him right? I am here to help you no matter what. Siblings should never be separated.”

Lumine smiles hearing their sweet words, they were actually offering to help them anytime she needed. Even though her other friends throughout Teyvat helped the best they could, she knew she could depend on the Creator to keep her word. She felt that she would see her brother sooner than she expects.

“So what are you going to do now?” Paimon asks.

“I’m going to visit all of the nations. I think my presence has been missed dearly.”

“Missed dearly would be an understatement…” Paimon retorts.

“Where will you go first?”

The Creator brings their finger to their chin pondering for a moment, “I think I’ll go to…”

The choice is now yours Your Grace, every nation will be written as if you chose them first. Read one, read them all!

However reading the last one is vital ;)

MONDSTADT

Jean was busier than ever.

As the Acting Grand Master, Jean is constantly dealing with the well-being of Mondstadt and leading the Knights of Favonius. Even though her friends always try to persuade her to take a break, she couldn’t afford to rest now.

It was only a few weeks ago when the Traveler had came to Mondstadt and told them the devastating news about the Creator, or rather who they thought was the Creator. Although everyone took the news hard, especially a certain bard, there was no time to grieve. The real Creator could walk through the gates any second and Jean wants to be prepared for the moment.

A knock on the door breaks her concentration as Lisa enter a frown on her lips. “You’ve been in here all day,” she says softly, “aren’t you going to take a break?”

Jean yawns rubbing her eyes, “I can’t take a break now Lisa.”

The librarian puts her hands on her hips, “yeah, yeah I know. Their Grace could arrive any minute now and you want to be prepared.”

Jean nods as Lisa sighs.

“But do you really want to meet Their Grace like this? You look tired and overworked.”

Jean opens her mouth to rebuttal her friends words when the door shoots open again. It was Amber, her hands were on her knees as she was breathing heavily.

“Their Grace is here.”

Once you entered Mondstadt, all eyes were on you. The knights who were patrolling around the city stopped to stare before they began bowing greeting you. Shop owners and other patrons eyes were as big as saucers as they bow to you in respect.

“T-their Grace has returned!”

“And they came to Mondstadt first! This surely means that this is their favorite nation, no?”

Excited murmurs filled the streets but the first to approach you was a man with red hair, it was tied into a low ponytail and the hair that fell in front of his face blew in the wind as his bowed before you.

“Your Grace,” he says his gaze on the ground, “my name is Diluc, welcome to Mondstadt.”

You smile using your hand to gesture for him to stand up straight. He follows your orders quickly, fixing his posture as his gaze meets yours.

“Mondstadt is as beautiful as ever.” You praise.

A smile grows on Dilucs face his cheek turning red as he clears his throat, “thank you for complimenting my homeland. Praise from you is the greatest blessing.”

“Oh there you are Master Diluc!” A voice calls out, “how about I sing in your tavern for a free bottle of Dandelion win-“

A man, or a bard based on how he dressed approached the two of you. The large smile that was once on his face is replaced with a look of shock as he looks at you.

“Y-your Grace…?”

The bard is frozen in place as he continues to stare, even after Diluc began to whisper-yell at him for not bowing to you.

He fixes his face as he smiles warmly at you, “Y-your Grace, Welcome to Mondstadt! My name is Venti! Venti the Bard!”

You raise your brow. “Venti the bard?”

You wouldn’t be the Creator if you couldn’t immediately tell who was an Archon or not, and looking at this supposed bard…

You knew that it was Barbatos and you knew he knew that as well.

“Ehe! Yep that’s me! The traveler told us all about your triumphs in Sumeru City. I believe something that great is worthy of a song, don’t you?”

You laugh at his words, even after all this time the Anemo Archon was as lively as ever.

“Your Grace welcome to Mondstadt, I apologize for our rude welcoming.” A group of four were approaching you, the blonde woman leading.

“I am Jean, the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius.” She looks over at the three standing near her, “This is our head librarian Lisa, our outrider Amber, and our chief alchemist Albedo.”

All of them greet you but you couldn’t help but notice that the one named Albedo never tore his intense gaze off your body.

“I see that you already met Master Diluc and Venti.”

You nod, “yes and you have no reason to apologize for the welcoming. My visit was out of the blue anyway.”

She raises a hand shaking her head, “you are always welcome in Mondstadt Your Grace, please allow me to show you around.” Jean smiles holding out her hand that you gladly take, Albedo and Lisa follow closely behind you two.

Once you had made it to the KoF headquarters, there were more knights waiting to greet you. The calvary captain named Kaeya left an everlasting impression with his sweet words, he was also the only one to kiss the back of your hand when he greeted you. Klee, the youngest in the knights immediately ran up to you hugging you tightly, the other knights try to tell her not to do that since it was rude but you said it was okay.

She asked if you wanted to go fish blasting with her, whatever that was.

Noelle was also so sweet, the maid had offered to do anything you needed even if it sounded like an inconvenience. ‘Nothing is an inconvenience for me, especially when it comes to you.’ She would say. While the sheepish Sucrose couldn’t even meet your gaze without her face turning completely red, she only managed to get the greeting past her lips since Albedo was there to guide her.

Like Keaya, Lisa was a natural flirt, she was constantly complimenting your looks saying how the imposter could never match the true beauty that you possess.

Then there was Rosaria, one of the nuns from the Chruch of Favonius. You had encountered her when you saw Barbara begging her to join in the festivities for your arrival. Once you had approached the two girls the shorter one immediately bows babbling about how happy she is to have you here. Rosaria on the other hand, asks if you are enjoying your time in Mondstadt. She also states that if you’re ever in trouble, she’ll help you. It seems that she shows her devotion to you in a more casual way than others.

Once you had met everyone, Diluc invited you to come to Angels Share, a tavern that he owned within the city. The tavern was what you expected, but what was surprising was seeing Diluc behind the bar his hair pulled into a high ponytail.

“Your Grace,” he smiles, sitting down the glass he was drying before you walked in. You sit down on the barstool across from him.

“Would you like some wine?”

You nod and Diluc turns around looking at the varieties of wine he had before reach of a particular one, he opens it pouring it in a glass.

“Here you are your Grace.”

The tavern door open again.

“Make that three glasses actually!”

Kaeya and Venti approach the bar sitting in the empty barstools next to you. Venti sits on your left, Kaeya on your right.

Diluc sighs, “do you have any mora?”

Venti pouts and Kaeya laughs a bit. “Aww c’mon don’t be like that, the Creator is here and we are celebrating.”

The redhead rolls his eyes, “we are celebrating but only Their Grace is drinking on the house.”

You smile bringing the glass to your lips as they continue their banter.

“Oh? You must be trying to win their favor by allowing them to drink for free? And everyone thought it was going to be me trying to win their attention.”

Diluc’s face grows red at Kaeya’s words, “t-that’s not it! I’m just showing them proper hospitality.”

You chuckle setting down the glass wiping your face a bit, “your wine is absolutely lovely Diluc, I see why everyone loves it.”

His face gets even darker as he nods, “I’m glad you like it your Grace. If you ever want any more, please let me know.” He ignores the two sitting near you as they continue to tease.

LIYUE

The second you had stepped into Liyue, Xiao was by your side, you weren’t sure how he knew when you’d be arriving but you decided not to question it.

“Your Grace,” the Adepti is kneeling by your feet keeping his gaze on the ground, “you’ve returned.”

“Please stand for me Xiao.”

He immediately raises to his feet meeting your gaze, “are you heading to Liyue Harbor?”

You nod, you never got to step in Liyue Harbor the last time you were in the nation of contracts, being abruptly interrupted by the Fatui had thrown you off your original plan.

“Is it alright if I walk with you?” He asks softly.

It was clear he didn’t want to be a burden on you but you had a feeling that even if you said no he would follow just to make sure nothing bad happened to you while traveling.

“Sure I don’t mind the company.” Xiao’s face brightens at your words as he moves to walk by your side.

The walk with the Yaksha was peaceful, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist but you could tell that he enjoyed being at your side. Once you had gotten to the path leading to the bridge of the harbor, Xiao’s steps faltered.

“Is something wrong?” You turn to face him noticing a conflicted look on his face.

“Thank you for allowing me to walk with you Your Grace but I should return to my duties.”

You furrow you brows, “you’re not coming in with me?”

He lets out a breath closing his eyes as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t….”

You weren’t sure why he wouldn’t enter the city with you but you didn’t want to force him to do anything he didn’t want. You give him a small smile bidding farewell, before he disappeared into the air he repeats what he said to you last time.

‘If you ever need anything or ever find yourself in trouble, just call out my name.’

Zhongli was at the funeral parlor when word hit that you had entered the city, he could feel his heart ache. All he wanted to do was greet you but he had to go about it strategically, if he doesn’t, he could easily reveal himself as the Geo or rather the former Geo Archon.

He gives his eccentric boss some random excuse to leave for a moment and she tells him to hurry back so they can think of new deals in honor of the Creators arrival.

After roaming the city for a moment, you had finally came into view talking to Ganyu. He fixes his tailcoat before walking over his hands laced behind his back.

“Your Grace, I see you have made it to the Harbor.”

Your eyes leave Ganyu to stare up at the man.

“Morax?”

He feels his heart swell, of course his God would recognize him no matter what form he takes.

“Actually it’s Zhongli now.”

Your eyes widen, so Morax had stepped down from his duties as an Archon? You expect something like that from Barbatos but from Morax? Never. You give him a smile, “I see, so Zhongli… it’s nice to see you again.”

Zhongli wanted to keep talking to you, to express just how much he missed you while you were gone. To apologize for worshiping another, he is your oldest devotee if anyone should’ve recognized something was wrong, it should’ve been him.

But all he does is smile as he bows to you, .”your presence has been missed Your Grace.”

Ganyu who was watching you interact with the man, suddenly excuses herself saying that she is needed back in the Jade Chamber to finish the preparations for your arrival. Even though you express that nothing extravagant needs to be done, she explains that Ningguang had been preparing this since the Traveler announced the news of the imposter.

“I wish that I could’ve shown you around the Harbor your Grace but I know that Rex Lap- er Zhongli will do a wonderful job as well.”

Once Ganyu was gone Zhongli offers you his hand, he guides you around the Harbor showing you all of the shops that truly makes Liyue what it is. He also points out all the statues and offerings people had left you, there were many stacks of letters, expensive items, and even books left around all your statues. You made a mental note that you would come back for them all later.

Zhongli also introduced you to Madame Ping who also seemed really happy to see you even offering if you’d like to drink tea with her once you’re free that you happily agreed to. She also mentioned about inviting some old friends, you have a feeling on who that may be.

Speaking of old friends, the other Adepti had made the trip down to the Harbor to meet you. They haven’t been in the Harbor since Osial was released by a Harbinger. Liyue Harbor is where mortals resided and while they will protect it with their life, they rather not spend their time here. Unless you were there then they don’t mind bending their own boundaries a bit.

After spending most of your day with Zhongli, night soon came and Ganyu came back. She escorts you to the Jade Chamber to meet Ningguang and to see what they have planned for you. Zhongli goes back to the funeral parlor expecting to be chewed out by Hu Tao for being gone longer than he expected.

Once in the Jade Chamber Ningguang immediately begins showering you with gifts, many of them jewls and clothing. She even had and array of Liyue specialties made just for you.

Yelan was also at the Jade Chamber, she asked you about your time in Snezhnaya but you decided to keep it vague. Whether that was to keep her in ignorance or because you didn’t want to relive it is unclear.

“Your Grace, would you come outside with me?” Ningguang speaks to you in a soft voice as she leads you to the front of the Chamber. The stars in the sky were shining brightly, you could even see Celestia more clearer from this height.

“It’s very beautiful up here but I actually brought you out here for another reason.”

Soon enough l fireworks began going off in the sky with many different shapes and bright colors. You could see many adults in children in Liyue stare at the sky in amazement which only warmed your heart even more.

“I apologize Your Grace this is all I could do last minute, but I have some more thing planned for you tomorrow.”

You give Ningguang a small grin, “this is already wonderful, I can only imagine what you have planned for tomorrow.”

Ningguang feels her face grow hot as she looks back up at the sky. Ganyu, Keqing, and Yelan could only smile knowing that this surely had a lasting impact on you. If you decide to take permanent residence in one of the nations, they hope that it’s theirs.

INAZUMA

You had managed to get aboard a ship named the Crux lead by captain Beidou with the help of the Traveler. She had welcomed you enthusiastically exclaiming how she was honored that the Creator wanted to board her ship.

Beidou and her crew weren’t the only ones excited to have you on board. Kazuha, who had introduced himself as a wandering samurai and a poet, also expressed his gratitude that he could meet you face to face.

Beidou cuts him off by ruffling his hair saying how he was just being humble. She tells you how Kazuha had managed to stop a killing blow from the Raiden Shogun and also managed to activate two visions at once. Normally Kazuha would brush off any form of praise with a small smile and a thank you, but seeing your surprised face and hearing you praise his talents made his face grow unbelievably red. Beidou laughs at her friends uncharacteristic behavior patting his shoulder.

The trip was unexpectedly calm, Lumine had told you of the constant storm that had surrounded Inazuma but it seemed to have finally dissipated. Once Beidou had anchored the ship in Ritou, there was only one person waiting on the dock who immediately jumped off one of the crates walking towards the ship.

“Kazuha? Beidou? I wasn’t expecting you two to return so soon!”

Kazuha laughs lightly, “Hello Thoma, we weren’t expecting to be back so early either but we had an unexpected guest.”

Thomas eyes perk up at the mention of the guest, “oh! Is it the Traveler? I’ve been wondering when they would return.”

Beidou chuckles, “no we got someone way more renowned than Lumine.”

Once you are on the dock, Thomas face immediately brightens. “Your Grace! I had no idea you were coming to Inazuma!”

“My arrival is unexpected, you’re the first person to know besides these two.”

His face brightens even more.

“Your Grace if you allow me I would love to escort you to Inazuma City. I know that everyone is dying to see you!”

Thomas personality felt like a breath of fresh air as you agree to let him guide you out of Ritou to Inazuma city. Beidou and Kazuha bid their farewell saying that if you need a ride to any of the other nations they’ll come back to get you, the two board the ship and it sails off.

The guards who were preventing outsiders from entering the City quickly move out of the way once they see your face not bothering to ask for any type of paperwork. If they did, they knew that the Shogun would have them dealt with.

It was about an hour after you arrived to Inazuma City when Ei had finally got the news. Kujou Sara came rushing and the Raiden Shogun, the puppet, asked her to state her business. As soon as she mentioned that you were in the City, Ei immediately left the Plane Of Euthymia.

She feels horrible that she wasn’t the first to greet you once you had entered the city but there’s nothing she can do about it now. All she can do is find you now and ask for forgiveness.

Would you forgive her? She wonders.

She wasn’t there to greet you and there’s no doubt that someone had told you what she had done to her nation. She feels a bitter taste enter in her mouth which she despises. She doesn’t want you to be angry at her, she’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness. Her sister Makoto always told her how amazing and forgiving you were so hopefully that hasn’t changed.

When Ei finally found you, you were at the Komore Teahouse, she burst through the doors trying her best to keep her composure as she follows the sound of noose coming from room one.

And there you are, in all your glory.

Ayaka and Ayato who sat next to you quickly stop talking as they stare at their Archon who stood at the threshold. Thoma, who sat across from the three of you, quickly look down at the table.

You sit down your teacup clearing your throat as you look at her.

“Ei? Is that you?”

She immediately falls onto her knees looking down at the floor, “yes it’s me Your Grace. Please forgive me.”

You glance at the siblings before standing walking towards Ei, her long braid spilled onto the floor as she kneeled before you.

“Forgive you? For what?”

She looks up her watery eyes meeting yours, “for everything…”

You decided it would be best to leave with the Electro Archon, it was already awkward the second she entered the room but you doubt that she’ll leave this teahouse without you.

Ei was quiet as she followed behind you in Inazuma city, everyone you past mouth are agape as they mutter that the Raiden Shogun has showed her face in the city again but this time with the Creator.

You notice how Ei’s face lights up once you near a dango stand, you stop asking the shopkeeper for two and he hands them to you with a large grin on his face saying they’re on the house. (luckily cuz its not like you have mora, where’s Diluc, Ningguang, and Pantalone when you need them?)

At first Ei declines the sweet treat saying that she shouldn’t indulge herself but with a few reassuring words from you, she quickly takes the sweet treat eating it.

Ei enjoyed the time she had spent with you and if you were to stay in Inazuma for good, she would never return into her puppet again. Being here with you felt like the eternity she was striving for, maybe if she begged you to stay here with her, you would consider it?

She decides against it as she watches you leave to see her other islands. She wants to go with you but she knows she must think of a way to properly apologize to you, she had to go talk to her dear friend at the Grand Narukami Shrine.

You decided to take some time to yourself on the outskirts of the city resting in the warm sand. Word of your arrival spread quickly and there was no doubt that everyone would be making their way here to see you soon so you just wanted to relax for a bit. You could hear children screaming in the distance as they played, you weren’t sure what they were playing but it sounded like they were having fun.

However your alone time didn’t last long. Many footsteps could be heard approaching from behind you , it sound like three maybe four people? But what really caught your attention was the loud voice that followed.

“Pfft… I might’ve lost this time but next time I’ll definitely win!”

You hear the others agreeing with the statement which causes you to turn around.

It was an Oni, you didn’t even know they were still around anymore.

The Oni notices you staring and his face brightens as he approaches you. “Hello stranger! I’ve never seen you around here before, my name is Arataki "The One and Oni" Itto! Leader of the Arataki Gang!”

He was definitely more lively than anyone else you’ve meet recently and that made you giggle a bit. You stand up from the warm sand a grin one your face, did he even recognize you? He approached you so casually as if you were just another Inazuma citizen.

“The Arataki Gang?” You say in between giggles.

Once Itto confirms that you’re not going to throw any beans at him he gets even closer, “You haven’t heard of the Arataki Gang before? No problem, from today on, we are now acquainted. We are the Arataki Gang of Hanamizaka! Who might you be?”

You introduce yourself by name not mentioning anything about your status, what could you say? You want to see how far this will go.

Talking with Itto was like a breath a fresh air, after everything you’ve been through, this was the exact break you needed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’ve laughed this much.

What you learned quickly is the Itto was very competitive when he challenged you to a Onikabuto battle, the rules were simple. Find a beetle and the two will battle until one of them flips. Itto warns you that the he’s been training his Onikabuto for days but that doesn’t stop him from helping you find a worthy opponent.

With the help of his gang that battle commences. You watch the two bugs battle quietly while Itto begins chanting for his to win.

After a few moments his beetle is flipped onto his back.

“I win!” You exclaim.

Itto runs his comb through his hair, “pssh… good job new friend! But that was definitely beginners luck! How about another round?”

“There you are Boss, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” A woman with green hair and a mask begins walking towards the group.

“Shinobu!” Itto says boisterously, “I was just having a Onikabuto Battle with my new friend here!”

Shinobu sighs, “I’m sorry if my boss had caused you any troubl-“

Suddenly she stops talking as she stares at your face, if her mouth wasn’t covered her jaw might’ve hit the floor with his wide her eyes were.

“Erm Shinobu?” Itto snaps his fingers.

“Why didn’t you say you were with the Creator!” The girl practically screams as she gets closer, “Your Grace I am honored to meet you! I’m sorry for any trouble Itto might’ve caused you.”

You grin, “he hasn’t caused any trouble at all! I’ve had so much fun!”

Itto watches the two of you a puzzled look on his face. “Wait wait wait…. What do you mean Creator?”

Shinobu looks over at her Boss, “don’t you remember me telling you that the Creator was in Inazuma?”

He laughs, “Of course I remember! Why wouldn’t I remember something like that?”

She lets out a sigh face palming, “are you telling me that you’ve been hanging with Their Grace this whole time and didn’t recognize them?”

Itto laughs again but it comes out more awkwardly as he looks to the side.

“None of you recognized them?”

The rest of the gang also look off to the side.

You laugh causing everyone to look over at you, “thank you for teaching me this game Itto! I’ve had lots of fun with you today.”

Now knowing who you are, your words makes Itto grow a bit sheepish as he brushes his comb through his hair once more, “Pfft, of course Your Grace I’ll teach you all other games I know and trust me it’s a lot! Haha! Although I should apologize how the Arataki Gang approached you,that was rude of us!” The rest of the gang murmur in agreement.

“Now how ‘bout that round two? Though I should let you know that I won’t be going easy on you! I’m going to win this time!”

You grin, “well bring it on!”

SUMERU

Nahida was the first to greet you once you had entered Sumeru City, she was surrounded by many scholars and sages from the Akademiya who bowed as they watched you interact with their Archon.

Nahida hold her small hand out to you, “welcome back to Sumeru Your Grace.”

You take the girls hand as she leads you throughout Sumeru City. “I’m glad to back under better circumstances.”

She chuckles, “I’m glad too.”

The city was more decorated than the last time you were here, even though last time you had Dottore knock out all of the citizens so you could confront the imposter. You had a feeling the Nahida might’ve predicted that you were going to show up today, you don’t expect anything less from the God of Wisdom.

As Nahida leads you to the entrance of the Akademiya, you notice two men bickering, or rather one of them getting riled up while the other responds calmly. Once the calmer one notices your presence he turns his attention to you as the other grows more annoyed at his actions.

“Seriously? Now you’re ignoring me?”

The other nudges the man harshly cussing him to stumble a bit but then he quickly takes notice of your presence as well.

“Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You soon learn that the calmer one was named Alhaitham, and that the more expressive one was Kaveh. You also learned that the two of them were roommates, although knowing that information was unintentional since Kaveh kept rambling nervously as he tried to apologize for his behavior that you no doubt witnessed.

However the next three you met really solidified that Sumeru had some interesting people that really changed your perspective of how the nation once was. Nahida bad introduced you to the General Mahamatra who was talking to a young girl named Collei and her master Tighnari.

Just like everyone else they were extremely respectful as they introduced themselves to you and welcomed you to their city. Cyno also offered to show you around the desert if you ever desired to go. Collei and Tighnari expressed the same to you about the forest. However after pleasantries were over, Cyno asked you a question that made everyone around you facepalm.

“Your Grace, have you ever played Genius Invokation TCG?”

Tighnari sighs loudly, “are you seriously asking Their Grace about this?”

Collei also sighs as she mutters multiple apologies under her breath.

“I-I’m sorry?” You tilt your head, “Genius Invokation TCG?”

Cyno ignores his friends telling him to be quiet as he begins to explain the premise of the game to you, explaining how people around Teyvat have their own cards within the game and that even you have your own card in the game. (However he doesn’t mention how many cards of you he owns)

“If you ever wish to learn to play, I will teach you. Then we can duel.” His voice was monotonous but his body language gave off just how excited he was about teaching you about this game.

As Nahida leads you away from the trio you could hear Tighnari ask Cyno why he would ask you a question like that. Collei was only happy that he didn’t make any puns in your presence.

Later that night Nahida leaves you alone in a bedroom she had designed specifically for you but you doubt that you were going to get any sleep that night.

A few moments after Nahida left there was a knock at your door, at first you figured it was the God of Wisdom who might’ve forgotten to say something but once you opened the door you were greeted by a new face.

He had purple hair and wore a large hat, if he wasn’t looking directly at you, his hat would’ve obscured his face.

“The Creator of Teyvat.” He drawls out smirking. “I’ve been waiting to speak to you.”

He lets himself into your room as you furrow your brows closing the door turning to face him.

“I want to hate you, you know. I want to hate you because of how much she loved you.” He speaks softly. “All this time I’ve forced myself to hate you but now that I’m right in front of you?” He lets out a laugh, you weren’t even sure if he was talking to you.

“I thought that joining the Fatui would’ve made me hate you but those idiots are just as loyal to you as everyone else.”

So he was previously in the Fatui? That’s odd, no one ever mentioned him.

“What’s your name?” Your words snaps him out of his trance as he looks back at you.

He tells you that he has no name but if you must call him by something you can call him what the Traveler picked.

He calls out your name, your true name. “You’re supposed to be all knowing. What am I supposed to do?”

You let out a breath, as he looks at you expectantly a glimmer hopefulness in his eyes.

The Wanderer holds his breath as he waits for you to respond, after all of the evil deeds he’s done Lumine and Nahida says that he can change but he has no idea where to go about that. All his life his wanted to be of use to someone and every single time he was thrown to the side and betrayed. He wants to know your answer, no he needs it. Ever since he joined the Fatui and learned that the only being he wanted to talk to was a fake, he knew that he would wait. He will wait for you.

“I cannot tell you what to do with your life,” you begin, “following your heart is what everyone does and eventually you find something that feels right.”

He wants to roll his eyes and retort but you quickly interrupt him.

“Even though you do not have a heart like other humans, you left the Fatui and are now repenting for the sins you committed. Doesn’t that feel good?”

He crosses his arms, “what’s that got to do with anything?”

“What I’m trying to say is you should do what feels right. You don’t have a heart but you feel hurt and angry when betrayed so surely you must feel good when you do certain things.”

“And what if I don’t know what that is…?” He says breath barely above a whisper.

“Well you have friends right? They are there to help you, and I am also willing to help you.”

His eyes widen as he turns away from you, “so that’s the way you think? I’m surprised that you can be so optimistic after everything you’ve been through Your Grace.”

For once he didn’t refer to you by your name.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, I will see you tomorrow with Buer.”

He walks past you opening the door, giving you one last glance the door clicks shut behind him. You let out a breath crashing onto your mattress, you doubt that sleep would take you tonight.

The Wanderer on the other hand, was thinking of anyway he could prove himself useful to you then maybe he could stay by your side instead.

SNEZHNAYA

The Tsaritsa never attended any celebrations that the Harbingers threw when they managed to obtain a Gnosis, but since this celebration was for you, she’d be a fool to not make an appearance.

The Fatui had an abundance of money, and once it was revealed you were on your way to Snezhnaya, they had quickly prepared everything for you. The Zapolyarny Palace was decorated in the finest decorations money could buy. Clothing suited for warm weather was designed with you in mind, and chefs prepared the most exquisite dishes in Snezhnaya for you to enjoy.

As the Harbingers were in the middle of preparations for the grand banquet. Spirits ran high and good will was abundant. All of them felt triumphant. The Creator was due to arrive soon , and they were proud to welcome them back to Snezhnaya. The air was only ever this lively after a successful mission in one of the other nations. They ordered their subordinates to set up the hall so that it was polished and pristine, fit their God.

The Damselette, who was sitting at a decorated table with her head down she called, “It is a shame that the Fair Lady couldn’t join us for such an momentous occasion.”

“La Signora’s zealot ambition caused her downfall. She overestimated her own strength and that got her killed in the end.” Pulcinella states.

“Her methods tarnished her honor, she doesn’t have the right to meet Their Grace.” Capitano chimes in.

Arlecchino was always quick to lose her temper, her voice was filled with venom as she glares at her comrades, “Rosalyne died in a foreign land for our cause, she has more right to meet Their Grace unlike you businessmen.”

Pantalone smiles curtly at her, “if you keep acting like that, Their Grace will be able to witness your true self and not the facade that you put on.”

Arlecchino opens her mouth to snap at the Regrator but is cut off by Childe, who stood nearby. “You all can’t help but fight even on the day the Creator is coming?”

It grows silent as they all return to what they were doing, the youngest Harbinger was right. To argue on the day you would be arriving was ludicrous, even more so to bicker once you arrive. The Tsaritsa herself would kill them for doing that.

It wasn’t much longer until you entered the Zapolyarny palace with the Tsaritsa and Pierro at your side. You were wearing the coat that was gifted to you when you first came here which caused Pantalone to smile smugly.

The Harbingers stare at you for a moment, last time you were here they were all still searching the other nations for any presence of you. When they joined you on the boat to confront the imposter, Childe hogged all your attention but now they had the opportunity to talk to you themselves.

But just like last time, Childe was the first to approach you, eyes brighter than ever. “Your Grace, You’ve arrived! How was the trip?”

You smile at the ginger, it was alway hard to see the Fatui as ruthless beings when Childe approaches and talks to you like this. “It was… calm. Just like last time.”

You cross your arms, even with all of the fireplaces around it was still very cold within the palace.

“Oh, are you cold Your Grace?” A voice says sweetly, “I have other coats suited for the cold if you’d prefer those instead.” The Regrator is the next to approach a small smile on his lips as he adjusts his glasses.

You open your mouth to accept his offer when another voice speaks up.

“If none of his coats are to your liking I would be more than happy to escort you to the City and buy you whatever coat you’d like.” Arlecchino says gracefully, although her glare at the two near you contradicted the sweetness in her voice.

“Or I can give you my coat, Your Grace.” Everyone turns to glare at Dottore for his bold suggestion.

You chuckle awkwardly feeling the tension in the room build up, you knew that no matter what choice you made, the others would be angry. (not at you ofc but at each other)

“Thank you for your generosity, but I think I’d rather just go to my room for a while, if that’s alright.”

“Of course that’s alright Your Grace! Would it be alright if I escort you to your room?” Sandrone pipes up still sitting on her Automaton.

Now all eyes are on her and you sigh softly, all you want is to quell the subtle fighting between them but no matter what you say one of them will jump at the opportunity to spend some alone time with you.

A cold hand touches your shoulder and the Tsaritsa finally speaks up. “I’ll take you to your room your Grace, you must be tired.”

You smile at her as she moves her hand onto your lower back, “We have prepared a banquet for you later tonight, I will have one of the Harbingers bring you some clothes if you wish to change.”

The Harbingers all share glances indicating that it was going to be them to bring you the clothes. The Archon leads you down the hall toward your room.

Once they were alone, Pierro let’s out a sigh, “these childish theatrics must cease. Their Grace will be spending the next few days here and they don’t need to see you all fighting all the time. Have some decorum.

The Harbingers roll their eyes dispersing back to their own room, all of them thinking of ways they could steal your attention tonight.

It’s going to be a long night Your Grace.

NOWHERE…? (ABYSS)

You told Lumine that you wanted to reconnect with Teyvat before you showed your face in any nation. The girl seemed surprised at first but understood, her gaze lingered on you as you left her campsite. However, you weren’t alone for long. Once you were out of the Travelers sight, you had felt a strong presence behind you. Last time you didn’t notice it, but this time it was as clear as day, as if they were making no effort to conceal it at all.

“Your Grace.” Just as you expected, it was Aether.

You stop walking turning to gaze at him, “how come you always appear when I’m alone?”

Now that you could see his face more clearly, he did look exactly like Lumine, they both had signature golden hair and eyes. While it seemed that both of them had a friendly nature, he was definitely hiding something beneath the surface.

“Because I don’t want no one to ruin the time I have talking to you.” He says nonchalantly.

“Even your sister?”

Aether’s eyes widened at your response but he quickly fixes his expression as he approached you, “so, she told you.”

“I told her I’d help her find you but that’s not all I know. I’ve heard lots of things about the Abyss, none of them good.”

“Your Grace anything anyone has told you is complete slander, the only goal I have in mind is rebuilding Khaenri’ah back to it’s former glory!”

“So the Abyss doesn’t hate humanity?”

He lets out a defeated sigh, confirming the truth behind your question without even saying anything. Aether reaches out grasping your hand with both of his gloved ones, “I would never do anything to disgrace your world… I promise.”

You had to give him the benefit of the doubt, it’s not like he lied to you up till this point, so why would he lie now? “What did you want to talk about?”

“The first step was defeating the counterfeit that held the throne, but this world still hasn’t been healed completely. Corruption still lurks in every corner.”

A large purple portal opens behind the Prince and a faceless being walks out getting down on one knee bringing a clawed hand to his chest.

“Your Grace…. Your Majesty…” it’s voice croaks.

“Come to the Abyss, Your Grace.” He pleads, “no interruptions this time. Come with me and I will show you everything…”

He stares expectantly at your face as you look at the creature and portal behind him. So this was the Abyss, Yelan had told you all about the danger it possessed and now it was right in front of you. A group that hates humanity, even Aether couldn’t deny that fact. The impropriety vexed you, how could a place exist that devalued the life you had created. You cared for this world immensely, and built it for humanity, but for some reason it felt as if the Abyss was calling out to you.

The void of the portal looks endless. Your eyes focus to catch a glimpse of something more, darker and obscure. The weight of the Princes hands were heavier now... more adamant. Your search was cut short when he gripped your hands, pulling you out of the trance. His gaze never wavered as you opened your pursed lips to respond to his lingering question.

“I’ll go with you.”

He looks satisfied with your answer as he pulls you forward leading you towards the portal.

There was no turning back now, once you walk through this with, you will be within the Abyss. You couldn’t imagine what would be waiting for you once you stepped through, all you had was the word of an outlier who guaranteed your safety.

Aether who seemed to notice your hesitancy laces his fingers with yours giving you a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

You let out a breath closing your eyes tightly as the two of you walk through the portal.

It wasn’t painful. Not that you expected it to be.

You open your eyes and the Prince is staring at you.

“We have arrived, Your Grace.”

The Abyss lurked in the darkest part of Teyvat so it was no surprise that once you took in your surroundings you noticed you were at some unknown place in the Chasm. It wasn’t just the two of you either, there were many creatures just like the one who was bowing to the two of you before. Some of them looked more human-like while others truly resembled monsters. None of them dared to speak though, you could only wonder what the Prince had threatened said to them if you chose to come with him.

“Your Grace I’m so happy you’ve decided to come with me.” Aether breathes out still holding your hand, not like he had any intention of letting go. “Your comfort means everything to me, and I know it looks unsettling right now but I can assure that your comfort has been taken into account.”

He leads you down a path so that the two of you were alone once more.

It was in a secluded spot that was much darker than the area you appeared in, the only thing giving light was the multiple torches stuck into the wall.

“Your Grace, what I’m about to tell you is going to be hard to hear…”

You let out a breath, would it be as hard to hear when you found out Celestia had betrayed you? The look on his face you could tell that he didn’t want to place this burden on you but it had to be done.

“Are you aware of what happened to Khaenri’ah?” He asks.

During your time in Celestia, you learned everything, all catastrophic events that happened on Teyvat was their doing. The Archon War and the destruction of Khaenri’ah were just the tip of the iceberg.

You nod, “Celestia told me it was their doing.”

“But did they tell you how?”

You shake your head, “how they did it? I don’t understand.”

“Celestia might’ve had a hand in getting rid of the nation, but it wasn’t the one who did it.”

You tilt your head curiously at the blonde, “who did it then?”

He sighs holding your hand a bit tighter to ease you into the bomb he was about to drop on you.

“You weren’t here and Celestia wasn’t the only one who missed you. So the Archons and Celestia concocted a plan to bring you back, and since Khaenri’ah was more quiet about their worship outsiders believed they weren’t devoted to you.”

You felt your heart sink as a bitter taste enters your mouth, “are you saying that the Archons had a hand in this as well?”

Aether continues, “the people of Khaenri’ah were deemed sinners, especially pure blooded ones. People believed it was their sins that made you not want to return, so under Celestia, the Archons attack Khaenri’ah destroying almost everything and killing everyone.”

You felt sick, you didn’t want to hear this, this ache in your chest was unbearable. Were you betrayed again? Something you poured your whole heart into stabbed you in the back for their own selfish desires? This was too much to bear.

You pull your hand out of his stumbling away to sit on a nearby rock, Aether followed kneeling next to you placing a hand on your back.

“I know this is hard for you,” he rubs your back frowning, “should I continue?”

You nod not trusting your voice to answer him, a lump in your throat was forming and it felt that if you were to try and speak, you would burst into tears.

“The remaining survivors of the attack turned into monsters… the monsters you see roaming around Teyvat are what remains of the nation. However for the pure blooded Khaenrians, they were cursed with immortality. Now they roam Teyvat forever…”

You bring your hands up running them through the roots of your hair, Aether had to be lying, there is no way something that terrible would happen without your knowledge. How could you be so ignorant to the suffering of your own people?

Aether keeps rubbing your back, “the plan didn’t work, you never returned so Celestia went for more drastic measures and made an Imposter to trick the Archons into thinking it worked, but at the same time, it was their last ditch effort to get you to return.”

You finally manage to speak, the words came out soft and raspy but still clear enough for him to understand.

“How do you know all this?”

The Prince says nothing, maybe he was ignoring you or maybe he was too concerned about your comfort to respond.

Khaenri’ah wasn’t just forced to watch their home burn by the hands of the Archons and Celestia but they were forced to stay and watch as their home became lost to history. You didn’t want to believe it, the monsters were once people and others were cursed with immortality it felt like something out of a fantasy novel.

But… those eyes…

You couldn’t help but recall your time in Snezhnaya. Pierro… his eyes. You knew they seemed familiar but it didn’t click to you then.

Now it was painfully clear.

He was from Khaenri’ah and he was one of the cursed ones. Why didn’t he tell you? Was it because you were focused on the Imposter? Did he not want to burden you with more problems?

You could remember the way his eyes had lingered on the flower you had. He must’ve recognized it.

You reach into your pocket pulling the flower out, it didn’t look as beautiful as it did when Aether first gave it to you, it was starting to wilt.

“You kept it.” You hear the Prince murmur next to you.

You turn to face him and he immediately pulls his hand off you. “Your Grace I know there is a way we can bring Khaenri’ah back. I’ve even seen these monsters gain back their consciousness, the only missing piece is you.”

Suddenly you bring your hand up to his cheek causing him to stiffen for a moment before leaning into your touch his face turning pink.

Your touch was better than he could ever describe, it was warm and comforting he hadn’t felt this warm since his days in the forgotten nation or maybe even when he still traveled with his sister. He wanted to keep this feeling forever and never let it go.

“Aether…” you breathe out. “It feels as if you’re the only one I can trust.”

He smiles, hearing you say his name was exhilarating.

“You can always trust me Your Grace. I will never deceive you.”

The hand that you had on his cheek is now trapped by his own, he didn’t want you to pull away. Not yet.

“I will help you, Khaenri’ah will be restored and Celestia will pay for it’s sins.”

His smile turns into a full blown grin, “Your Grace I am honored that I am able to work with you.”

Note: I am so sorry for the looonnnngggg wait for this part but I am super happy how the ending came out. Now I will focus on the asks in my inbox so if you were on of the lovely anons that left a request, trust me, I didn’t forget about you! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this I luv you!

Taglist: @esthelily @the-dumber-scaramouche @grimreapersscythe @seawater-aurelia-writing @probablynoposts @genshin-impacts-me @itsredactedlove @chidouna @thedevioussmirk @hoo-hoo @chaoticfivesworld @akemiixx01 @lunarapple @nowords-onlybreathing @fangirlinindia @veyu002 @blackcoffex @kaveh-is-pretty @ariasdream @averycuriousperson @bloopthebat @chuuya-brainrot @crazydreamcat @sparklyphantom @multistanbee @bluebelony @mokakoto @mega-trash-cringe CLOSED

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau x reader #genshin cult

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unohanabbygirl · 8 months

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As much as I love FMN, I think it’s more realistic for a no forgiveness ending. I think that after all the sexual abuse that Luke has gone through and having his sexual agency taken away again and again, Aemond starting a relationship with him before he remembers is just a step too far. I know some readers are divided on this but I consider what Aemond to be doing as rape by deception. I can’t see Luke staying with him after he remembers. There is Luke, there is Lucerys, and Lucerys would not want what was happening and I think Aemond knows this. Aemond KNOWS that there is a part of Luke’s mind that cannot and would not consent and that’s why I really can’t imagine Luke forgiving him after all he’s been though. What’s your opinion?

I see your perspective and understand 100%

In a real world scenario this could either go one of two ways; one, Luke simply can’t find it in himself to forgive Aemond because though he wanted him in the moment, deep down Aemond must’ve known that their relationship (especially the sexual aspect of things) would’ve been completely different had he known this was the man who killed him and his dragon. Through every little moment Aemond held most of the power since he knew their complicated history for what it is.

it’s just one of many relationships he’s fallen into with a skewed power dynamic and it only serves to enforce Luke’s beliefs that the sexual trauma he’s faced is on him rather than those who’ve taken advantage. In his mind no one continuously falls into these situations except him, so it must be his own fault as there’s clearly something about Luke himself that leads him down this same road over and over. And though he still cares for and wants Aemond (he fell in love with him after all) Luke has been stripped of his sexual agency and bodily autonomy since he was a little boy. It’s too painful knowing that the man he genuinely saw a future with, who he thought respected him and loved him for who he was flaws and all, still found a way to take his choice away just like all the others.

The second path is that Luke stays and forgives Aemond. He’s so used to being taken advantage of sexually in ways that are flat out painful (chap 30 bathroom scene for example) that being with the guy who treats him well in spite of his lies is a better fate than any he’s ever known when it comes to intimacy.

Things could always be worse; Aemond could easily force him down, spit vitriol at him and use him like a human fleshlight, but instead he’s gentle. Listens and pays attention to any ques that he may be panicking or having a flashback. Aemond is loving and kind, doesn’t ask him to do degrading things despite knowing that Luke would without a second thought so long as it meant keeping his love. In Luke’s mind, Aemond may have lied but he’s a better man than he’ll will ever find in this lifetime. He’s willing to accept the deception for what it was because it could’ve been 10x worse.

In the second scenario specifically I’d like to imagine them fifteen or so years into the future, married with some kids of their own. Luke still battles with self-esteem issues and feelings of worthlessness which is normal for someone who’s been through even a quarter of what he’s had to endure.

Luke has a journal that he writes in religious and one day Aemond decides to go through it (maybe Luke left it open on accident and he just couldn’t resist?) He reads through each and every intimate thought and painful feelings his husband had kept to himself for decades since they’ve been reunited and finally begins to see how their relationship has damaged Luke.

However, Aemond doesn’t want to believe he could ever be anything like those men who hurt Luke. Their situation is different is what he tells himself, refusing to even associate the world “rape” with what they have.

Rape is forceful, degrading, and humiliating. Yes, he may have kept some things to himself but what else was he supposed to do? Come out with the truth right away and risk being seen as a lunatic?

He ends up confronting Luke, they talk it out after the initial anger at having his privacy invaded. In the end Luke assures Aemond that everything between them is fine. That he’s the only man who’s ever loved him enough to be gentle and kind to him regardless of the sting that burns a hole in his chest whenever he dreams of his long dead dragon or the man he could’ve grown up to be had he never died that night above Shipbreaker Bay. They kiss, make up and the real issue is never brought up again.

Denial, shame, and the ignorance of what is and isn’t “true” sexual violence keeps these two together. Its a sad picture to paint but it’s the reality that we should face yet are too afraid to confront. I also feel that Alicent’s relationship with Viserys is an example of this. She was assaulted by that man and we all know it, but since 14 was considered an adult all those years ago and their sex life was simply their “duty” no one ever addresses that it was in fact rape. They make excuses and defend until they’re blue in the face because everyone wants to chop a rapist dick off until it’s someone they know and care for while their victims are left to rot in their pain.

The issue of Lucemond’s relationship leading to rape my deception is important. It leads us to ask ourselves how far is it okay to go and where should boundaries be made in these horribly grainy situations. This argument has its place in the story as well. You have those who want these two to be together because “true love” (Aegon) and you have those who are against it for various reasons but one being that they feel Luke is being taken advantage of (Jace)

Its an interesting dialogue that should be had when it comes to this story.

Sorry for the long ramble but you already know how I am lol

#asks

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is-very-sad · 2 years

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What if yandere inhuman darling was mostly emotionless, and the only time they ever end up showing any is by giving a subtle smile that would come off as creepy most of the time? Also, love your writing and finally decided to make an account to say this too, ahah;;

Y- you made an account just to talk to me??

I'm not flustered idk what you're talking about

For real though thank you so much that means a lot💗💖💗

So uhhh yandere reader, uhhh let's torment my current favorite character, like any good writer should

Contains religious/cult themes bc sagau, yandere behaviors including

Beidou always knew to be careful of the sea. Storms and waves could come from next to nowhere, intent on drowning the poor sailors in its path. But this.. She'd never anticipated this.

The stars changed nightly. Even the north star wasn't reliable.

Islands appeared at random, the charts say they should've been back to mainland weeks ago and yet when the stars change how can maps be accurate? Fish and other fauna are unnaturally abundant wherever they search, islands miraculously have fruit and vegetables, even if they're..strange. Game can be found in the forests and plains. Water can be found, and sometimes when the stores are low, she thinks she can't smell the salt in the sea. Part of her wonders if she can somehow drink the ocean water. Surely that can't be possible, right?

Some seem to have tribes, others only have animals. Some have neither or nothing at all of note.

She's apologized to her greatest inspiration countless times, yet her guiding star only brushes her off with the same monotone voice they've used since she found them floating in the ocean. She still checks them over daily, God or not she doesn't know how long they might've been floating alone in the water.

Under a sky so clear an arm of the galaxy itself could be seen clearly, she anxiously checks her maps again.

She's recalculated the Crux's route two dozen times today alone, as if ignoring the changed stars means she can still figure out where in this blasted ocean they are. She looks up to see them as the door creaks open. The pressure doubles. She has to get them somewhere safe. They're all that matters.

Several minutes pass when she looks at them next to her. Have they been staring since they sat down? Desperate tears start to sting her eyes. She isn't bad luck, she isn't a waste, she isn't the one who failed the true God-

"Hush."

She blinks. Blurry as her eyes are she can tell they're leaning over her.

"Why do you cry little one? Is the ocean not your calling?"

It is, but she can't keep you here forever. You belong in the Jade Chamber of Liyue, or the Shogun's palace in Inazuma. You deserve your throne!

A slow blink.

And then a smile that nearly has her running. She tried to, actually. But your hands held her arms to her chair. How is that gentle little body so strong?

"There's no need to be like that, we'll always have enough supplies. I guarantee it. We can explore forever. Is that not.. romantic? Is that the term?

Poor Beidou can only stare in horror. They'd done this? Romantic? What??

Slowly, as if Beidou was the fragile one which she is maneuver her until they're in the chair and she's in their lap.

"We can explore together forever. That's nice, yes?"

Beidou stares at eyes that never should've been able to hide their true nature.

The danger seems so obvious, now.

#i answer stuff #my stuff #sagau #genshin cult au #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin impact cult au #cult genshin au #genshin sagau #genshin #eldritch darling #horror darling #beidou x reader #beidou #genshin impact

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animepopheart · 3 years

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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

#wonder egg priority #rika kawai #wep #pmmm #Christianity #tw cutting #blog

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cinlat · 2 years

Text

Get to know the blogger

I was tagged by @starknstarwars and so sorry that I’m just now getting around to this.

No pressure tags for: @dimigex @kunoichi-ume @jlsigman @chaosandwonder @rainofaugustsith and anyone else who would like to join in!

1. Why did you choose your url?

Cinlat was the name of a character that I created back in highschool, a side character with no real weight to the plot. After multiple attempts at clever names while joining swtor, I got annoyed and tossed her name in and it was accepted. Afterward, I used it for everything else because it’s always available. THEN she became a prominent character in my main fic mostly by accident.

2. Any sideblogs?

I have one dedicated solely to reblogging writing tips. It has 7 followers. That’s probably including me. Then I also run Reignbow’s blog because she still too young for social media, but her art is too good not to share. So if interested, you can find her @reignbow

3. How long have you been on tumblr?

*goes to ask @dimigex* She says 2016, so we’ll go with that since it’s her fault that I’m here.

4. Why did you originally start your blog?

Because Dimi dragged me here, kicking and screaming. But legit, she suggested that I share my writing projects with people other than just her, and that’s how Fynta blasted her way into the hearts of all of you fine people.

5. Why did you choose your icon?

Those boys are the two most important people in Fynta’s life, and I think @dingoat did an amazing job capturing each of their personalities. It’s such a pure and wholesome representation of my favorite people.

6. Why did you choose your header?

It’s funny that this question comes right after I changed it from the group portrait of Fynta and her family. I’ve been back into ffxiv for a while now, and while Isashi has been my main since 2015, I had to make a final fantasy version of Fynta because, well, it’s Fynta. Naturally, Fynta started adopting people the moment she set foot in Eorzea. She decided that Isashi needed to lighten up, which dragged Kirin into the group, and Lukos is mostly there unwillingly but has no where else to go. Thus, they are now The Gang, because Final Fynta said so. Anyway, I spend about two hours putting that shot together and it turned out too good not to share.

7. What is your post with the most notes?

I genuinely have no idea how to find this information. Feel free to teach me in the replies.

8. How many mutuals do you have?

This questionnaire has taken a turn towards math and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

9. How many followers do you have?

Okay, this one I know how to find. 422. Look at me knowing things.

10. How many blogs do you follow?

303...I legit thought it was more than that.

11. Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not intentionally.

12. How many times do you use tumblr a day?

Given that this is basically the only social media site that I visit....a lot....I’m not even sorry.

13. Have you ever fought another blog?

Nope.

14. How do you feel about “need to reblog” posts?

I am not great about reblogging, ngl. If it’s a close friend/mutual I’m more likely to. Or if it’s something I think my mutuals will find as amusing as I do. Otherwise I mostly just yell about my ocs/gaming/writing with my friends and then yell about theirs too. I very rarely, if ever, reblog political/religious stuff simply because that’s just not what I’m on this site for specifically.

15. Do you like tag games?

I definitely do, though I’m terrible about getting them done in a timely manner. But, thankfully, people keep tagging me. Thanks all!

16. Do you like ask games?

I definitely enjoy those too, with the same results as above.

17. Which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous?

That’s really tough, actually. I follow so many talented authors and artists. I’ve got to agree with @starknstarwars about @sleepswithvillains being one of them. Also @riajade01 thievinghippo, moonlitalien, thegarbagechute and @dingoat is starting to climb those ranks too. Just off the top of my head. (I’m not going to tag them all because I don’t actively talk with several and have no idea how they feel about random tagging, but you should absolutely check out their blogs.)

18. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Nah, I’m too old for crushes. XD. I’ve made some genuine friendships though.

#cinlat answers #get to know the blogger #all the information you didn't actually want to know #XD #thanks for the tag!

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ogravensimp · 3 years

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There’s a comic where John Constantine spends Christmas with the Kent family: Clark, Lois, Jon, the whole shebang.

Can Raven join the fun? 🎁

of course she can!

“So,” the soft voice of the little girl in a colourful red and green jumper immediately caught everyone's attention as since she had arrived with her apparent father, John Constatine, she had not said a word, “what exactly is Christmas?”

The warm living room seemed to almost freeze over in silence; the only sound being a plastic ornament falling onto the ground. Jon, instead of going to pick up the trinket he dropped, just gave a confused look to his new friend that has been helping him put up decorations for the last half hour.

Lois was equally as perplexed, the little girl had no issue being placed in the festive jumper and given Christmas-related tasks to do but, in fact, had no idea what was going on all this while. She knew this level of docile obedience was not normal for a child her age and gave glaring look at the blond man who was collapsed uselessly on the armchair.

John simply raised his arms in defence, "Hey, don't look at me. I don't believe in this shi-stuff either and I gave her the rundown ." He corrected his language quickly before he is subjected to the wrath of Lois Lane-Kent.

Sighing, she turned to the little girl, "Raven, what do you mean by 'what is Christmas'?"

"I mean what is it. Is it a ritual? Is it some type of day of worship? John says it's just an excuse to drink during dinner and get free stuff but that doesn't seem accurate."

Another pointed look at Constantine.

"It's about getting lots of presents because you were good!", Jon added and got his own pointed look.

Raven felt the natural instinct to defend her foster-father and new friend, so she quickly tried to restate her statement, "I just meant that everyone gives conflicting explanations of the purpose of the celebration. My books say it's a commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ but all these cartoons talk about is this figure called Santa! Is he some type of other God? What about Jesus? And what is Hanukah!? Wh-"

"Wow."

The sound her age mate, Jon made was what brought her back to earth and stopped her ranting.

Only then did she realize she had begun to raise the living room furniture and had John and Lois floating a few inches off the ground. Releasing a harsh but calming breath, the sound of the couch's and sofas thumping down onto the floor could be heard while Raven shamefully looked down at her feet.

"Sorry...I just didn't know why we're doing this? ", She took a pause and pulled at her woolly turtle neck, "... or why I'm wearing green...and red?"

In the back of her mind, Raven wanted Lois to shout at her for asking so many questions. John said asking questions about the unknown was normal but she couldn't help but think about Azar's thoughts on the subject. Her old mentor always said that "curiosity is the sin of longing for more, and means that one is not satisfied with their current being."

She was willing to take whatever punishment Lois Lane felt just to give but she just didn't want these new people to dislike her due to her disobedience and lack of control.

'Now they know you are freak, a freakish monster,' She didn't know who in her mind said that but they were right. She felt someone approach her and steadied her trembles as she awaited discipline, but instead, she was met with a delicate hand on her cheek.

When she looked up, the softest pair of eyes she's ever been the focus of was what she saw. Just something about Lois face made her feel safe in every way, "Oh honey, don't ever be ashamed to ask questions. Trust me, as a reporter, I ask enough questions to talk your ears off so I have no right to judge."

Raven only nodded, feeling flush at the positive attention of someone she barely knew.

"Now for your question," at this Lois retracted her hand to rub her chin with a quizzical hum on her lips, "You are right, there are many ways to celebrate Christmas so to pinpoint what is about, I suppose it'll differ for each family. Though, I can tell you why this family celebrates it."

Despite her prior criticism of herself, Raven still managed to whisper a simple, "Why?"

"Cause we are family, that's all there is to it," With that answer, Lois placed a small peck on to the little girl's red chakra before lightly stroking her hair, "Now you and Jon should head to the kitchen, I think Clark's about done with the cookies."

And on queue, a ding sounded and Clark Kent's voice could be heard through the walls, "Alright, come get them while they're warm."

Jon jumped into the air at that. He turned to his friend and pulled onto her sleeve to signal towards the kitchen before rushing off himself.

Raven floated after him before pausing halfway.

She turned towards the direction of Constantine who had simply watched the interaction with mild curiosity, "So are me and John...family?"

John finally spoke up, "Yes, I guess we are luv'. Wouldn't let you live in my house for free if it was any other way." Lois gave him a slap at the shoulder for his poor taste of humour.

But Raven didn't seem to care about his lack of sentiments. Instead, she let a smile grace her lips before running after the young half-Kryptonian while muttering a soft, "Family."

John watched her go with his own smile.

Lois was shocked that John Constantine could even make that expression; the closest thing she has ever seen on the British man was a cocky smirk and even that was pushing it. She felt awkward, as if she was seeing a private scene not meant for her, so she decided to speak to clear the air, "She's a good kid, though, I'm concerned about how quiet she is."

"Yeah, I'm working on it," John relaxed back into the chair before digging into his pockets, "Only been doing this child-raising thing for a few months, cut me some slack."

"I'm not nagging you, just curious," Lois followed his movements as he pulled out those rancid cigarettes of his. She quickly snatched it away before continuing, "Be good with her. I can see some real potential in her."

John only huffed. Looking longingly at the cigarette only inches away, he gave a snarky, "Yeah, yeah."

Lois supposed that will do, "Now, let's see if there are any treats left or was it all snarked down by those two."

"Please, when it comes to Rae and her desserts, she'll out-eat grown men. A real demon that one."

I always thought that Raven has a lot of religious trauma from Azarath that is rarely explored but in this AU imma hint at it a lot more. No one is better to deal with religious trauma than a man that routinely stares devil’s in the eyes.

#dad!constantine #magic family au #raven dc #john constantine #lois lane #jon kael #clark kent #the kents #raven teen titans #dc comics

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dancedance-resolution · 3 years

Text

andi mack friendom, are you interested in some more thoughts about my andi mack / american girl crossover (which is actually just a thinly veiled info dump about american girl history and drama)? if so, you're in the right place!

the andi / buffy / cyrus doll set i designed would be a contemporary line.

CONTEXT (forewarning, this is basically just an ag info dump about the 2017 contemporary line) (also, tagging @kirstensleepey because i think this write up might be useful for the ag project you're working on <3):

so in 2017, american girl did a brand new thing. they released 3 dolls who were contemporary characters but not girls of the year. (prior to these dolls' release, which are called "the contemporary line" by the ag fandom, the only categories of ag dolls were historicals, girls of the year, and just like yous.)

the contemporary line was controversial for many reasons.

first, we have our main character, tenney grant. (tenney is basically taylor swift as a doll, if taylor were uncool and a r*publican lol.)

one of the reasons why tenney is so controversial is that she overshadowed the girl of the year (henceforth abbreviated as goty) 2017, gabriella mcbride.

tenney was released only one month after gabriella's release. ag's social media gave much more focus to tenney than gabriella. upon tenney's release, gabriella's store displays were downsized (which is unheard of for a goty). tenney even had a larger collection than gabriella!

why are we mad about tenney overshadowing gabriella? well, gabriella was ag's first (and as of 2021, ONLY) black goty. also, gabriella was ag's first doll to have an explicity confirmed disability - her stutter.

BRIEF INTERMESSION - SOME STATISTICS ABOUT DIVERSITY IN CHARACTER DOLLS:

only 7 out of the 22 total historical characters have been dolls of color. only 3 out of 22 historicals have been black (one of which is now retired). only 2 out of 22 have been aapi (one of these dolls, ivy, was just a best friend doll and is now retired; and the other doll, nanea, has a problematic face mold. i wrote an essay about why her facemold is problematic here!). only 1 historical doll, josefina, is hispanic, and ag has actually misspelled her name as "josephina" on their social media before.

only 1 doll EVER has been native american, kaya'aton'my, who is a historical character from 1764. (not even any of the just like you dolls have had kaya's face mold! kaya is truly the only indigenous doll!) in fact, ag has had more colonizer characters than indigenous characters. felicity and elizabeth are white character dolls from 1776, and their books fail to address the issues surrounding colonization and treatment of native americans. and kirsten is a swedeish immigrant to wisconsin in 1854. her book does acknowledge the existence of native americans, and kirsten has an indigenous friend named singing bird. (i haven't read kirsten's books and i'm not indigenous, so i can't comment on this storyline.) ag actually had a controversy about kirsten just this year - in 2021, the t-shirt design for kirsten said "settlers gonna settle", and ag actually ended up changing the design to "cabin sweet cabin" after backlash.

moving on to the girl of the year line - out of 21 goty dolls, gabriella is the ONLY black goty. only 6 out of 21 gotys have been dolls of color. there have been 2 hispanic characters (luciana, who is generally regarded as an excellent doll; and marisol, who is controversial because her book talks about how her family moved from pilsen chicago - a real area of chicago that is home to many hispanic immigrants - to a white suburb due to crime. this storyline involves racist stereotypes.) also, goty 2016 lea clark (slightly tan skin, blonde hair, light green eyes) is 1/8th brazilian, and some brazilian ag fans consider the emphasis on lea being 1/8th brazilian racial feticization. next, there have been 3 aapi gotys. one of these dolls, sonali, was one of two best friend dolls for chrissa (goty 2009) - yep, you heard that right, yet another doll of color that is a side character! sonali is the bully in chrissa's books, but she gets a redemption arc. to this day, sonali is ag's only south asian character doll. [additionally, there has been some criticism that all of the aapi gotys are mixed race - jess mcconell (goty 2006) has a japanese mother and an irish/scottish father, kanani akina (goty 2011) has a french/german mother and a japanese/hawaiian father, and sonali matthews has an indian mother and a father of unknown race/ethincity. perhaps notably, the only aapi historical doll who is not currently retired (nanea) is also mixed race (hawaiian mother and scottish father).]

as for the disability thing i mentioned - ag also has a disappointing track record regarding disability representation, lol. it was very lightly implied that mckenna (goty 2012) had a learning disability, but that was never confirmed. mckenna's tutor, who used a wheelchair, was ag's first big disability rep, but she was just a side character in mckenna's story. then, many ag fans were disappointed when mary ellen, a historical character released in 2015, was able-bodied (in canon, she had polio as a child, so it would make sense for mary ellen to be disabled and use mobility aids). finally, in 2020, goty joss gave us some disability rep - she has a hearing aid.

ag's lack of disability rep is very frustrating, especially considering that doll companies, like our generation, have made some really cool disabled dolls. and ag has been doing this ad campaign with the paralympics that feels performative to me - like, they want to seem inclusive by featuring dolls with prostetic legs, but they don't even sell dolls like that!!!

lastly, religious diversity - iirc, there are three jewish dolls (rebecca, goty 2001/2002 lindsey, and goty 2009 chrissa). the rest of the dolls are either christian or of unspecified religion. there has never been an explicitly muslim, hindu, or buddhist doll, or a doll who is a member of any religion other than judaism/christianity/unspecified. (there is some hope that we might get a muslim doll, though, since an outfit with a hijab was leaked, and ag trademarked a persian name that i can't recall off the top of the head at my moment. but take these with a grain of salt - ag trademarks a ton of stuff that they don't use, and the leak could be false or just a truly me outfit.)

END OF INTERMISSION - BACK TO THE TENNEY/GABRIELLA CONTROVERSY:

so, we get our first black goty, and she's being totally overshadowed by tenney.

here's where a conspiracy comes in:

we can track when ag trademarks their character names. goty names are usually trademarked early in the year prior to their release (by may). but gabriella mcbride wasn't trademarked until october, iirc.

and gabriella is a very underdeveloped character in comparison to most gotys. one of her main hobbies - dancing - was the same main hobby as both marisol (goty 2005) and isabelle (goty 2014). her store displays were underemphasized in comparison to tenney's, as i mentioned before. she was the first goty who didn't get a movie in six years (since kanani, goty 2011). and gabriella didn't even have a big ticket accessory item available until summer!

so, we get our first black goty, and she's underdeveloped, underemphasized, seems to have been rushed (due to her trademark date), and overshadowed by tenney just one month after her release. why is that?

well, some people think that tenney was actually supposed to be goty 2017! (i agree)

tenney was trademarked earlier, had more development, had a bigger collection, etc. we think that tenney was supposed to be goty 2017, but ag decided to do a doll of color (gabriella) at the last minute. (keep in mind the climate of 2015/2016 - ag probably wanted some clout for doing a black goty, and they also probably heard the ag fandom's demands for more dolls of color.)

so that's tenney.

next we have logan everett. logan was ag's first boy character doll. i'm glad that ag had a boy character doll, but logan kinda missed the mark for me. the main source of controversy surrounding logan is his face mold: he, a white boy, uses the kaya face mold. !! it kinda felt like a slap in the face to many indigenous ag fans - kaya is literally The Only Doll with the kaya face mold, and when we finally get another doll with her face mold, he's not even indigenous.

lastly, we have z yang my beloved <3. z yang was done dirty - she is yet another doll of color who is a mere side character, and also, she was available for only a total of 20 months before being retired!

so, that's everything i have to say about the 2017 contemporary line.

now i'm going to talk about the 2021 contemporary line :3

so, it's summer 2020. the black lives matter is becoming more mainstream. brands are now getting clout for appearing "woke."

so, admist this climate, ag is (as always) facing demands from its fandom/collectors to diversify its doll line. so they announce that they're going to be doing a new contemporary line, to be released in "the second half of 2021"!!!! and they promise that the contemporary line will have a black lead character

fast forward to modern day. thanks to ag's trademarks, we can safely assume that the new contemporary line will be called "world by us." we can safely assume that the line will have 3 characters. the 3 characters all live in washington dc and are best friends :) we can safely assume that the characters will be maritza ochoa, evette peeters, and makena williams. i talked about makena and maritza on that ask regrettable-username sent me about my andi mack/ag headcanons! personally, i'm excited for world by us, and i think it has a lot of potential!

alright sawyer, that's the end of the ag info dump fhjhdhfskf.

now for my andi mack friends:

i think the andi/buffy/cyrus line would be structured similar to world by us: andi is the main character, and buffy and cyrus are her best friend dolls :) all 3 dolls would be released at the same time. andi would have 3 books that have buffy and cyrus as side characters, and buffy and cyrus would have one book each.

the big ticket item for this collection would be andi's andi shack. i'm imagining its design sort of like kira's tent mixed with lanie's camper mixed with blaire's farm. andi the walls of andi shack would open up so that when it's fully opened, the four walls are on an even plane with the back wall and extended out like wings. you remove the roof before opening up the walls. the shack is tall enough that the doll can comfortably stand up even with the roof still attached, and wide enough that all three dolls (andi, buffy, and cyrus) can comfortably stand next to each other inside of andi shack.

andi shack would come with a ton of craft supplies inside of it. it would also come with a little flower box that has cece's african violets, like blaire's flower box. (thanks to regrettable-username for coming up with the african violets idea fdjfsj.)

alright i have to go now, so these are all my andi mack/ag thoughts for now, but i might be back later with more thoughts fhdfjs (hopefully not though, since typing this out took me over three hours [sweating emoji]).

sorry for any typos and sorry for how scatterbrained this is! also this may have some forgotten things/mildly incorrect things bc my only source is my brain (and a photo of all the dolls so i can count how many dolls for the statistics portion) and my brain is not the most reliable thing on earth lol.

#long post #american girl dolls #i feel kinda bad about putting this in the andi mack tag since it's mostly ag related; but it does include info about my andi mack/ag au #and the friendom has seemed to be really enjoying the andi mack/ag au (nostalgia i guess) so uhhh hopefully you guys will enjoy this? lol #andi mack

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zuttersvoid · 3 years

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ℍ𝕆𝕎 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕄𝔼𝕋 ℙ𝔸ℝ𝕋 𝕊𝕀𝕏/???

HOW YOU MET (PROS AND VILLIANS EDITION)

CHARACTERS: HAWKS/ENDEAVOR/ALLMIGHT/SHIGGY/DABI

PRO HEROS

HAWKS—

You two met in a hotel suite. You booked a room in an expensive hotel suit under your agency name. Not knowing that a pro hero named Hawks had also booked that same room under the same agency. When you first entered the room it was magnificent, everything it described on the website. Luxurious with an ocean view. A bar stocked with most amazing booze. Plus a great place to track enemies. You being a pro hero had its perks especially when you get paid so much that you can afford a room like this. Although the room in questioning seemed a bit off.

The luggage that was brought up to your room seemed to have doubled in size. And when you entered the room. Room service was already place with shrimp cocktails even though you were allergic. Not to mention you hear sounds from upstairs like a shower running on. You quickly run upstairs thinking someone like a maid had left it on. Though as you enter the master bedroom which you expected to sleep in for the night you come across another men’s clothes set up on the bed. You quite confused what was going here.

Soon the shower water turns off making you alarmed. You started up your quirk expecting it to be the guy you’ve been tracking. Though it’s the Pro Hero Hawks. Hawks as in your colleague and he’s dripping on the floor stark nude with nothing covering him. His eyes are closed as he scratches her hair and walks into the room.

You cover your eyes with your hands. Hawks slowly opens his eyes and sees you standing there with your eyes covered. Soon you felt a body heat radiating off you and something at your neck. “Who are you?” He asked, you remove your hand and see he got dressed somehow and is now holding one of his feathers at your neck. You raise your hands up and introduce yourself. “I’m Y/N I work under the same agency as you and I’m here under a mission.”

“Is that so Kid. Then what are you doing in my room?” He asked and you looked back at him, though he brought the wing much closer. “This is my room.” You corrected that’s when you realized you both were sharing a room…

ENDEAVOR—

You’re a massive fan of Enji Todoroki. Some would say you are obsessed with this man. You had all the collectible figurines. Tape recorded all his interviews which you watched religiously. Your room is decorated full of him scattered with posters. So when it came down to your 31st birthday your best friend of all times got you and her tickets to the press conference he was having in your city. You were definitely excited to go especially to meet the number one hero. Though when time had come for you to go things just didn’t seem to work out right.

Your best friend is sick. Meaning you had to go alone. You missed the train and had to wait an hour to catch another one. When trying to enter the venue your ticket wasn’t being scanned right and you had to wait fifty minutes till it finally was accepted and deemed real. And just as you're about to see your all time idol it seemed that the conference was over because everyone started leaving. You were so upset and rushed your way inside practically screaming.

“Endeavor!” At the top of your lungs. Just as you manage to get through the crowd you find yourself alone with just a mere Endeavor poster and not the pro hero for he had already left. You were depressed that day thinking you lost your one chance. As you head back home you decide to make a stop by a Chinese restaurant so you can take it home and mope. Though this place don’t go right either a villain with an explosive quirk blew the building in order to make a distraction to get away. When the building blew everyone and anyone around you was severely hurt or tried to run.

Debris was everywhere. And you managed to get stuck, your leg caught under a roof top banister. You barely feel the pain and yet you screamed out for help. To the people who were running not caring about the others like you who was stuck under debris. You probably screamed a lot because soon enough you couldn’t anymore your mouth was dry and hurting from all the screaming. “Endeavor!” You hear someone yell and your eyes widen as you glance around some of the rubble to see an illuminating Endeavor with all his fire picking up people who are in danger.

“Endeavor!” You practically scream, a tear begin to stream your face as you called out to him. Endeavor after putting others back to safety he glanced over to you. He makes his way over to you and lifts up the heavy banister and you slip out from underneath it. Endeavor helps carry you back to safety. As you were carried your eyes were mesmerized by your favorite hero. You felt happy. You wrapped your arms around the pro hero which caught him off guard. And you thank him and praise him a million times. Till he settles you down in an ambulance. “Thank yo—”

“Don’t thank me. I’m just doing my job.” He noted and you smiled wide. “I was at your press conference this morning though I kind of missed it and there was a lot I wanted to ask you.” You rambled

“Well, you got to tell me these questions. How about you visit my agency and I’ll give you a private interview.” When you heard that you practically fluttered and nodded wildly. “Thank you!” You squealed and soon you said your goodbyes.

ALL MIGHT—

You met All Might on a blind date when he was in America. Your friend Dave set you up since he knew you were single. When you were alone waiting for this All Might person whom you’ve heard about all over the media you were quite nervous. Thinking he might have a stigma against you being a non quirk person.

You’re sitting at the dining table twirling your wine as you look around for this face. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turns into hours. The date of yours hasn’t shown up and you are on your third glass of wine right now and trying to keep yourself together. Though you felt like you could cry any minute.

Since people have been glancing at you and the waitress has been giving you sympathy for the past hours. You finally decided to pay for the drinks you had and leave the place. You make your way downstairs to the main floor of the restaurant to go home. Though suddenly busting through the doors Toshinori is inside his crystal blue eyes widened when seeing you upset and disappointed.

“Sorry! I had villains backing me up. I'm sorry for being late!” He said as he ran up to you. You looked at him surprised and you slowly made your way up to him. You don’t do a thing and he speaks, “However um I got a coupon from a pizzeria for saving them. We can get a pizza and have it at my place if you want?” He says nervously as he looks off to the side and then back at you.

“Yeah I would love that.”

“Great let’s go!”

VILLIANS

SHIGGY—

You met through an associate of his Kurogiri. Kurogiri had promised that if you joined the league he'd help save your brother who’s been imprisoned in the high security prison. Though you didn’t fully trust his word you still joined anyway. When arrived upon what seems to be a Karaoke bar he opens the door for you and you step inside to see Shigaraki sipping on a glass of bourbon a disdain look on his face and slowly his eyes fall upon you.

“Kurogiri who’s that?” He asked as he took one more swig of his drink and he got up from his seat walking towards you. “This is Y/n.” Kurogiri introduced and explained to him that a destructive quirk of your body is acidic making it easy to kill someone if someone touched you. “A destructive quirk aye?” He questioned your gaze on each other was intense, more intense than you ever known for his crack dry skin wrinkled with a smile.

“You’d make a great addition to our League.” He said holding out his hand for you to shake which you just looked at. “Thanks...though I’m doing it for my brother,” you said as he grins. “Well at least it for someone—Kurogiri won’t you show our new member to their room?” Kurogiri nods and takes you away to the very back of the place where there was a single room, placed with only one bed.

“Huh? Where’s the room and why is there only one bed up here?” You asked and Kurogiri pointed at the bed. “That’s where you’ll be sleeping unless you want the couch downstairs?” He said and you shook your head and questioned, “Is there not like a ton of your guys. Where do you sleep?”

“Downstairs on the floors or couches. I’m honestly quite surprised you’re getting this room, "he explained and you knit your brows together. “Why?”

“Shigaraki sleeps here.” And he doesn’t say much after that and leaves you alone.

DABI— You are a pro hero known to most of the people in your city. While on a night patrol. You were called in for a disturbance in a museum. Your expectations are low when you go thinking it’s a low band of criminals. You are making your way to the museum at full speed using your trusty motorbike you got from the agency you work for.

As you roll into the side entrance of the museum you make your way inside noticing the door frame of the museum has been broken. While you’re entering inside you notice a disturbance of what seemed to be a fight. Blood trickles the ground as you go further inside. “Hello, is anyone in I’m pro hero (name) and I’m here to save you—” you walked into the green room which displayed all the expensive paintings from the dynasties of Japan.

Though what you didn’t expect to see inside is a body torn to pieces. Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at it terrified. “What happened—” you were caught off guard and had a hand cover your mouth pulling you back you kick and scream. You tried activating your quirk but he held a strong grip on your hands.

You are turned around and you face Dabi who’s holding a finger to his lips. “Who are you and what happened here?” You asked, trying to get out of his grip and he went back to cover his mouth. Soon a low growl fills your ears. Your eyes look to your left and there staring at you is a feral dog-like creature ten times the size of what a regular dog is. He’s growling at you sniffing the air. The guy pulls you in close noticing you could be caught.

The dog takes a couple more sniffs before walking off. “What’s that?” You whispered soon after his hands come off your lips. “That’s the idiot I hired to do my bidding. I didn't think his quirk was that monstrous.” He muttered to himself and you stared at his eyes wide. “You’re a criminal?”

“Can’t you tell I mean I don’t look quite hero-ly.” He says and he smirks at you, seeing you still clutching up against him. “Though I have to admit you are quite the cutie.” He says and you roll your eyes. “Whatever.” You pull out his grasp.

“Though I have business here and with this disturbance and creature I’ll take care of it so you can leave if you want.” You said and he didn’t like that fact that you were looking down at him. “Um, I can take care of it myself. I have a strong quirk than you, hero.”

“Doubt it.” You muttered as you then opened your mouth wide. “You might want to cover your ears.” You say and he scoffs and does as told. Soon enough you begin singing at the top of your lungs. Your voice being your weapon causing trances and illusions to whoever your face. As your voice vibrates around the museum halls and walls. You hear the monstrous creature approaching back to where you were.

You’re singing more and more and also preparing for when it comes. “Hey you sure you got this?” He asked the ground rumbles underneath you as the low snarls vastly approached. Within seconds bursting into the room is the fowl creature. And with one claw he strikes at you and you tread back taking the hit. You screamed out in pain which brought you to tears for you were slice at your side.

Though you didn’t stop singing changing octaves ever so to see the creature slowly fall into trance and when it does fall you don’t hold back. You get up clutching your side and sung to your highest note and watched as the creature crumbled into dust. You huffed and puffed once the creature had finally been taken down. Dabi released his hands from his ear and turned to look at you. You stared at him and felt yourself become dizzy. You fall and fall to the ground you black out and don’t remember much after that.

#boko no hero academia #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #all might #gender neutral reader #black reader #headcanon #bnha headcanons

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tealin · 3 years

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Observation Hill

To see the post in its original format, please visit twirlynoodle.com/blog

There is no mistaking Observation Hill when you arrive at McMurdo, if you know anything about it. It is a distinct cone, right at the end of the peninsula – even if you've never seen a picture of it, its name alone tells you it's a prime lookout, and sticking out into McMurdo sound as it does, it has clear views in every direction.

I had seen pictures of it, but I was still surprised how it loomed over the station. Unlike the vastly larger Mt Erebus, it is visible from everywhere; whether you're eating in the Galley or crawling back to bed from the Crary lab in the wee hours, it's always looking over your shoulder.

Though not apparent in the above photo, it is clearly visible in person that there is a large cross mounted nearly at the peak of the hill. Visitors especially from the States might assume it is just another expression of religious devotion – Christ died on a cross on a hill, so hilltop crosses are not unusual in a country which puts great stock in expressions of Christianity – but this is not another one of those things, in fact it isn't even American. This cross was erected in January 1913 by the surviving men of the Terra Nova Expedition, as a memorial to Captain Scott and the other members of his party who died out on the Ross Ice Shelf on their way home from the South Pole.

Before the ship arrived it was decided among us to urge the erection of a cross on Observation Hill to the memory of the Polar Party. On the arrival of the ship the carpenter immediately set to work to make a great cross of jarrah wood [an Australian hardwood]. There was some discussion as to the inscription, it being urged that there should be some quotation from the Bible because "the women think a lot of these things." But I was glad to see the concluding line of Tennyson's "Ulysses" adopted: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

... Observation Hill was clearly the place for it, it knew them all so well. Three of them were Discovery men who lived three years under its shadow: they had seen it time after time as they came back from hard journeys on the Barrier: Observation Hill and Castle Rock were the two which had always welcomed them in. It commanded McMurdo Sound on one side, where they had lived: and the Barrier on the other, where they had died. No more fitting pedestal, a pedestal which in itself is nearly 1000 feet high, could have been found.

(Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World, pp.565-7)

The establishment of the cross took two days: the first, to hack a hole in the volcanic rock in which to mount it, and the second to carry up the pieces and erect them.

It stands nine feet out of the rocks, and many feet into the ground, and I do not believe it will ever move. When it was up, facing out over the Barrier, we gave three cheers and one more. (ibid., p.567)

106 years later, there is a hiking trail up Observation Hill. I had intended to make a pilgrimage since the moment I arrived, but with everything else going on, and the ongoing challenge to get enough sleep, it wasn't until quite late in my visit that I finally made it.

My first attempt was on a relatively fine day, when I thought I could get some good views. The trailhead was clearly marked on the station map, but when I got there I couldn't find a way to reach it without crossing a fuel pipeline, and I had a dim recollection from orientation that this was a big no-no. I wandered about looking for access until I started getting a headache from the fumes, and gave up.

The next opportunity came a few days later, after I'd found out from a veteran that it was OK just to step over the pipeline there. It was a thickly cloudy day, and hazy by Antarctic standards, so I wouldn't get as good a view, but that did mean I could look forward to having the hill to myself. So I stepped over the pipeline and started up.

It looks like a terribly steep climb from the bottom, but once on the slope it's not so bad, and is far less slippery than the gravel slope of Arrival Heights. Partway up I passed a mountain rescue class, but beyond that the trail was entirely mine.

Like the rest of Ross Island, Observation Hill is volcanic in origin – in fact it was once a small volcano of its own. Unlike the subglacial volcano that is now Castle Rock, which grew cylindrically through a hole it melted in the ice, Observation Hill must have been uncovered in its later years at least, because it has the classic cone shape made by molten rock running down the outside. It is a lighter colour than much of the rest of the exposed rock in the area, and in places, it gives a really good impression of being sedimentary rather than igneous.

While the climb was not as physically intense as I had feared, it did still make me very warm, and I had two pauses, not to catch my breath but to cool down. One was to watch the rescue class, the other was when, somewhere near the top, I lost the trail, and examined the terrain for a while to guess which side would be least fall-off-able. I chose the wrong one, it turns out – I didn't fall off, but I did have to pick my way over some bare rock and came out above the cross, which is mounted in a pocket of rubble just off the peak.

It's hard to tell from the photo but it is in fact quite large – I am an average sized female and I stood well under the crossbar. The inscription is still there, but over a century of blizzards have battered it, and some parts are just barely decipherable.

The names – above of the worst of the blowing grit – are still legible. This gave me one of those moments which always seems to come by surprise. I have lived most of my life, and certainly all of my career, in close proximity with fictional characters, who demand to be believed in, either out of escapist necessity or professional duty. Most of the time I am off in my own little world, and the fact that that little world is now a historical moment in Antarctica does not, necessarily, make it more real, in relation to my literal present reality, than any movie I've worked on. I know these guys were real, I have seen film footage of them, and read their handwriting, and, some of them, even met members of their families! But when I'm up to my elbows in the work, it's easy to give it the part of my brain that suspends disbelief on a production. Suddenly something will come along that jolts me back to their reality: in this case, a name carved on a physical object by someone who knew them personally.

At the same time, this physical object impressed upon me again just how much time separates their reality and mine. Originally the cross was painted white, with the incised letters filled in black. Only a little of the white paint remains in the deepest recesses of what are quite shallow letters, now. In 1960, when Silas Wright returned and was photographed up here, the wood had already been scoured clean. His visit was 47 years after the cross was put in place, and 49 years before mine. The same imagination that conflates historical realities with fictional ones can make those years evaporate, but that is still a lot of years, and erosion, unlike imagination, doesn't lie.

Cherry may have believed that the cross would never move, but it has in fact blown down twice, once in the winter of 1974 and again in 1993. Its restoration in 1994 was a significant effort: a new concrete "boot" was made for it at Scott Base and delivered to the site by helicopter, and the cross itself was relayed up the hill by teams of helpers. (You can see photos of the event here, p.44) I cannot say how moving it is to see such an outlay of resources and enthusiasm by people who never met the Polar Party, to perpetuate their memory.

The cross isn't the only thing to see at the top of Observation Hill, of course – there is everything else. It turned out to be the perfect way to end my tour of Terra Nova landmarks, not only because it was the last bit of home territory the Terra Nova men themselves visited, but because I could see nearly everywhere I'd been from up here.

As you can see, it was not the greatest day for landscape photography, what with the matte light and the taller mountains being covered with cloud. But I had not come up here to take pictures. The sombre atmosphere befitted what I had come to do, which was to remember these men and thank The Powers That Be for the blessings that had been showered upon me in the last few weeks.

The cross faces south, towards their last camp, and the Pole. This is, of course, a thoughtful and fitting aspect of the memorial. It also gives the impression of a beacon, a light in a window, a lighthouse on a headland, guiding them home. The men who erected it knew the men were dead. They are still dead. We all know this. But they are still out there somewhere, and it is not impossible to imagine some small irrational part of the human psyche wanting, in some small way, to show them the way back, and call them back by name.

Minna Bluff was covered in cloud, so I couldn't use it as a bellwether, but the wind started to pick up and was colder than before, so I thought I should start heading down again. The correct trail was obvious from this end, and I poked along it for a little way before everything caught up with me and I sat down to have a little cry.

The cross is a historical artefact, and while it is not as plum or as complex as the huts, it still requires conservation. Alarmed by the degree of erosion on the lettering, the Antarctic Heritage Trust has devised a shell to protect it from the worst of the winter winds. That will do something, but it has already lost a lot. When I was up there, I wondered why it hadn't ever been repainted, as the paint would go a long way to protecting it, and when the paint wore off it could just get repainted instead of eating further and further into the wood. The raw timber is more harmonious with the environment, and I like it better aesthetically that way, as do many others I'm sure – the white cross with black letters in Debenham's photo from 1913 is very stark and artificial in such a magnificent landscape. But it would last a lot longer.

On the other hand, generations of Antarcticans now have the cross as a touchstone, not only as their link to the history (not everyone gets to visit Cape Evans) but as a landmark in their own experience of Antarctica. It was personally important to the men who painted it white and put it up, but it is also personally important to hundreds, if not thousands, of people since then, who have never seen it white and don't know that's how it started, and might see the repainting as a travesty. If it were to be conserved, to what extent would that go? Would the letters be re-carved deeper, obliterating what remains of Davies' original work? At what point does conservation end and adulteration begin?

The alternative is to take down the original and keep it somewhere out of the weather – Scott Base perhaps – and replace it with a replica. Jarrah is still available, the letters could be carved afresh, it could be the bare wood everyone has known and loved for the last fifty years at least, and the original could be saved from the effects of weather once and for all. But doesn't this defeat the intent of the original in some way, and make it – dare I say – a Disneyland version? Do we owe more to history to keep it as it is and let the elements wear it down, or to preserve it as long as possible and do whatever might be necessary to extend the experience and historical understanding of a place, if not its authenticity?

These are all questions that curators and conservators have been grappling with for years, so I leave it to them to make the decisions. I am grateful to have seen the original, and to have a moment to myself up there to reflect on these things, and more. I hope, whatever happens with it in the future, Observation Hill is not de-crossed entirely. How else will they find the way home?

#antarctica #mcmurdo station #observation hill #conservation #history #memorial #artefacts #scott expedition #terra nova expedition #scott base

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darth-does-stuff · 3 years

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ok so i need to place this information somewhere and i just decided id post it here

idk if im even gonna post the actual superhero au fic but im posting it here anyways

this superhero au is gonna fit all the angst in here because there is little angst in the chaos crew au lmao

but here are the separate arcs each is gonna face in this au under the cut

(there is gonna be some graphic stuff so be warned)

(it is also going to be very long)

heed the tags guys

Logan

A very important factor for his entire character in this au is that he has cybernetics. His right eye, his left arm, and the lower half of his left leg. This happened due to an explosion, his arm and lower left leg essentially blown off, and shrapnel piercing his eye.

His arc centers around his cybernetics, thinking they are a burden, and feeling like he doesn’t fit in, along with feeling inadequate.

Logan struggles with thinking that his cybernetics aren’t truly a part of him, just something he has to deal with. A burden. He resents it, there’s no sugarcoating it. He wishes he had his human limbs back.

In his arc, he’ll deal with the fact he has them, and that no amount of wishing will ever change it. He accepts them as a part of himself, an imperfect part, for sure, but every human is imperfect. Hell, even human parts of himself are imperfect, so it fits right in.

Before he accepts it as a part of himself, though, he deals with feelings of inadequacy. People often pitied him (keep in mind they thought he had prosthetics), trying to ‘lighten the load’ for him. He appreciated the thought, but they never let him do anything. He felt like they were belittling him. Logan tried to brush it off, but deep down, he worried that he truly was inadequate. Was he weak? Should he even be doing these things? Was he good enough? Sometimes...Logan felt he wasn’t.

But, once he hits the arc with accepting his cybernetics, he faces this feeling of inadequacy and proves it wrong. He’s been doing things normal humans couldn’t dream of and the city’s still thriving. He’s faced countless robbers, countless villains, and found a home with the team. He was good enough. He was okay. He’d be fine. Of course, sometimes he’d still have those feelings of not being good enough, but he could deal with it now. It wasn’t something that haunted his nightmares.

But, even after the whole cybernetic arc, he still faces the problem of not fitting in. Even before having superpowers and cybernetics, he wasn’t like other children. He was the eldest child, so his parents were basically helicopter parents, afraid he was going to get hurt in some way. As he got older and he had more siblings, they got a bit more lax, but he still hadn’t done things normal children had done. He didn’t explore, didn’t interact much with other children (though that was more of his doing), barely went outside, and had his every move basically monitored. Logan preferred reading a book to playing at the park, drawing a picture instead of hanging out with friends, etc., etc. So, he always felt a bit like an outsider. It only got worse once he had the incident.

Now, he had fucking powers and literal robotics attached to his body, and he was scared. He was angry. He was...confused. How would his life change? What would happen to him? Then, all of a sudden, he got roped into being a fucking vigilante and just had to deal with it.

Then, he joins this team, all of them so much more normal than him, and he still doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared they are going to judge him, belittle him, like so many before them had done.

But...they don’t. They accept him, they joke with him, they are happy with him. And, he slowly starts to relax. He comes out of his shell and he feels...complete. It’s okay he isn’t normal. It’s okay he doesn’t exactly fit in. Everything is okay.

He doesn’t blame his parents for being helicopter parents, he still loves them and his siblings. He knows they were worried about him. Sure, they did mess up, but he’s made countless mistakes in his life too. He doesn’t blame them or his siblings. They helped him become who he is and he is eternally grateful for that.

Patton

Patton faces the problem of his public image and his own self-image. In public and when he is Typhoon, he puts on this bright and chipper personality. And it’s grueling to keep up because that is not who he truly is. He’s much more mischievous, much more sarcastic, much more brash, much more himself.

He tries to keep up this optimistic persona because he doesn’t want backlash. He’s afraid of what people would say if they saw the real thing. So, he puts up an image. Smile, all the time. Wave enthusiastically. Don’t let them see through you. Act like you’re fine. You always have to be fine, right? That’s what Patton thinks, at least.

With his arc, he slowly learns to just accept himself. It helps when Virgil joins the team, because he sees him not putting up a facade. He acts himself, dark and broody, sarcastic and sardonic. And nobody really questioned it or gave him backlash. Patton has this moment of ‘Oh’ because he realizes that he can show what he truly is. He no longer has to hide.

When he first starts showing himself as he actually is, he’s scared. It’s only natural, no matter how much you prepared for it, you will still be scared. Some people notice. There are a few news articles as some just want drama. But, his team, his friends, his family backs him up and it strengthens his resolve. He learns to ignore those types of people, knowing they only want drama. He can finally be...himself.

Roman

Oh boy, this is going to be a doozy.

Roman’s angst is that his entire world view changes, his beliefs (not religious) crumble. Everything just seems to flip for him.

Roman had always thought that everyone could be redeemed. No matter the deed. Everyone deserves a second chance. He’s faced criminals and villains with this belief at the forefront of his mind.

When everything else seemed to be crumbling around him, this belief sustained him. It kept him going. It was a constant when nothing else stayed the same.

But now? Now everything is foreign. Everything is changing with nothing being that constant that he so desperately needed. This situation he is facing hits even closer to home because--well, I’m afraid I can’t say because of spoilers, but let’s just say it may involve a certain mustached villain ;)

But, anyways, in his arc, he realizes that everything can’t just be sunshine and daisies. He’s known this before, but it hits full force now. He has to accept that some people can’t be redeemed, that some are just...evil. He hates to admit it, but he knows it’s true.

His friends--no, family backed him up. They helped him with this realization, helped to make sure he doesn’t break. And he is so, so, so, so grateful and thankful for them.

He knows that some people can’t change. He’s...well, he’s not fine with it, but he accepts it at the very least. And when he looks around at his family, seeing how genuine and kind they are, he knows that, no matter what, all he needs is his family to survive.

Virgil

He faces problems with his self-esteem, his own anxiety, and his fear of lack of self-control.

He has little self-esteem. He always has, really. Since he was a kid, he always overthought everything he did, criticized himself severely, always tried to push himself harder, in unhealthy amounts. It all left him feeling so tired.

He kept doing this even into adulthood, checking himself, always wondering if he could do better, barely feeling good about things he did. Things he wanted to be proud of, but just couldn’t.

When he joins the team, it’s a slow process. He was immensely afraid of being judged, of being insulted, of them. They were all these heroes the city recognized and praised and he was left feeling like shit, in his mind at least. He felt like he couldn’t keep up. Virgil kept trying to push himself harder to at least try and be on the same level as them, but ended up pushing much too hard, passing out from exhaustion and stress.

They realized his mindset, having had once had this mindset themselves, and help him deal with it, help him try to minimize it because it’s not something you can be fully rid of. They know this themselves because sometimes they still get those moments, where they feel they aren’t doing enough and push harder, too harder. But, the best they can do is to deal with it. And that’s exactly what Virgil does.

His anxiety is also a doozy.

It holds him back so much. Especially with fear of failing. He doesn’t want to fail anybody. He wants to do the best he can and do it perfectly. But, the problem is that he can’t. He knows he can’t and it terrifies him. His anxiety and fear of failing prevent him from doing so many things just because of what could go wrong.

The team also helps with this. They provide somebody he can rant to and offer solutions and different types of perspective. They help him to realize that if you only worry about what could go wrong, then you wouldn’t be able to do anything, you wouldn’t be able to live. Because with that mindset, you aren’t living, you are only surviving.

And they help Virgil see this point. Help him to not let his anxiety hold him back from things he really wants to do. And it provides him with so many opportunities.

They all know that sometimes, it’s going to happen. Sometimes, Virgil just can’t be able to do something because the fear practically paralyzes him. It’s like with his self-esteem issues. It’s not something you can be rid of, just something you have to deal with. They help him when this happens, help bring him back to reality and help to calm him down.

Lastly, his fear of no self-control. You have to remember that their powers can be heavily influenced by emotions. Strong bursts of emotions can work it into overdrive. Too much use of their powers can also use all of their energy. In very extreme cases, it can lead to death.

But, while Virgil is also afraid of the side effects, he’s mostly afraid of what his powers can do to other people, innocent people. And, to him, it’s a found fear. It’s happened before. He’s hurt others without meaning to and he vowed to never do it again. This is partly why he became a vigilante, to protect others instead of hurting them. But he is so afraid of still harming them and he has nightmares about it. It practically haunts him. He fears turning into those killers and villains he’s fought.

Once again, the team is very helpful in debunking this. They’ve explained their own experiences, explained how they themselves have hurt innocents without meaning to, and it’s something you have to just...deal with, like all other problems. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Him worrying about being a bad person just proves furthermore that he isn’t. After all, a bad person wouldn’t care about it. But, he does. And that is what provides the difference.

Janus

spoilers spoilers spoilers

Remus

spoilers spoilers spoilers-

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anonniemousefics · 3 years

Note

Some jesper and kaz fics pleaseee

I’m so sorry this has taken me foreeeever to get to you! I hope this scratches the itch. :)

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

Between You And Me

Fandom: Six of Crows | Jesper + Kaz

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3236

Jesper’s feet pounded the cobblestones, his labored breathing filling his head. He was sweating bullets beneath the dead weight slung over his shoulder – his collar and his pits were already soaked through. It was embarrassing how a few months of pencil-pushing at university had hacked away at his endurance. He was going to have to make up for that if he was going to keep pulling off these jobs for Kaz Brekker.

If Kaz Brekker was going to survive the night.

Jesper shook the thought out of his head and adjusted the limp body over his shoulder. He was going to pretend it was a sack of potatoes or a too-full school bag and not a 16-year-old boy’s body maybe bleeding out all over him.

His lungs were burning. He just needed to get Kaz back to The Slat. Haskell would have men there who would know what to do. Probably.

He felt like his knees were going to give out. How had this gone so horribly wrong? It was supposed to have been a simple drop – a brief exchange of kruge for information. Kaz had even not pulled the Wraith off her current assignment – he’d only brought Jesper for back-up. It was not supposed to have turned into a brawl.

“No dice, kid.” In his mind’s eye, Jesper could still see the cruel, yellowing smile of the turncoat Blacktip, his teeth grinning around the stub of a cigarette. “My price is much steeper if it’s intel on Rollins you’re after.”

“We had a deal.” Kaz’s rasp had been like flint on tinder. Jesper’s fingers had lingered at the pistol on his hip.

The Blacktip had laughed. Jesper could have warned him how terribly thin the ice was on which he now stood.

“A deal?” The Blacktip barked. “What are you, twelve? Something tells me this isn’t exactly going down with Haskell’s knowledge. If you’re wanting to make deals like men, start putting up real money.”

Kaz had cocked his head to the side. Just considering the man from his beat up bowler hat down to his scuffed, patent-leather shoes. Jesper had seen feral barn cats do the same thing before they played with their kill. He’d waited, breathless, for Kaz’s orders.

They never came.

Before either of them had moved, they were suddenly surrounded on all sides by Blacktips. Rough hands seized at their arms, at the napes of their coats. And the cruel, yellowing smile in front of them spread.

“Haskell doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” the gangster had cackled. “How much do you think he’ll pay to have you back?”

Jesper wasn’t going to wait to find out. (He knew the truth – Haskell wouldn’t be interested in paying until the Blacktips started removing appendages.)

He’d acted without thinking. Rammed his heel into a set of shins. Slammed his elbow deep into someone’s gut. Grabbed for his pistols and swirled.

Kaz was wielding his cane, its crow’s head hefty like a hammer, smashing into skulls. Jesper fired off a warning shot. No one backed down. He took aim again.

Gunpowder. The glint of a knife. Echoes of shouts through the alley. There was a blur of fists and blood, and several minutes later, a circle of bodies lay around them. And then there was only Jesper and Kaz, back to back, weapons still drawn and breathing hard.

Jesper had had only a moment of relief before Kaz stumbled forward and dropped to a knee.

And he was pressing a hand hard against a stab wound to his torso. In the lamplight, Jesper could see the black wool of his coat growing wet around his leather glove.

“What do I do?” Jesper had caught him by the shoulders before he could fall. “What do I do?” For a moment, Kaz’s dark brown eyes went wide, his brows pulled up, and to Jesper, he looked -- scared? And that was more horrifying than anything that had happened yet.

“Get,” Kaz had breathed, “your hands – off – m--”

And then he’d fainted.

This is fine. This happens. This is fine. This happens. Jesper was trying not to panic.

He just needed to get him back to The Slat. Haskell could do something. Haskell would do something. This was Kaz, his lieutenant, his right hand. He wouldn’t stand for this.

His legs felt like jelly. He just had to make it back to The—

“Jes…” Over his right ear, Jesper heard Kaz’s raspy croak, and what his heart did at the sound almost took him down. It was like someone had reached into his chest and given the muscle a hard wrench.

“Almost there, Brekker,” he said. “Hang on.”

“Jes.” Kaz’s words were methodical even then, even while flopping around like the prize catch of the day over a fisherman’s shoulder. “Put. Me. Down.”

Jesper had learned enough about Kaz Brekker by then to know even his contradictory instructions should be considered. So, even though his gut was screaming at him to get this boy home now, he stopped. Drew in some deep breaths, trying to catch his own. Then lowered Kaz to the pavement.

Kaz dropped hard, then inched back so he could prop himself up against the brick wall of the alley. His hand was still pressed to the inside of his coat as his head lolled back, leveling a glare up at Jesper through his disheveled black hair. Jesper was relieved to see he wasn’t looking quite so pale as before.

No one should be that pretty when they’re bleeding out and furious.

“You touch me again,” Kaz sounded winded, “and I will kill you.”

There’d been a time not so long ago Jesper might have believed him. But tonight, he had his fists balled at his waist like it would help him gulp down much-needed air, and still he can’t help but laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he said. “Maybe you should work on being vertical first.”

“Fuck you,” Kaz groaned, closing his eyes with a wince.

“Or, how about – ‘Thank you, Jesper, for saving my ass and for carrying me a thousand miles, especially since I’m weirdly as heavy as a newborn heifer.’”

“A newborn?” Kaz slit his eyes up at him. “Why a newborn? That’s a little emasculating.”

“I don’t know – they’re your words, not mine.”

Kaz huffed a laugh and then promptly groaned again, pressing the hand tighter against himself.

“Inej is going to kill me,” he muttered to himself.

It wasn’t supposed to sting when Kaz talked about girls. (But Kaz never talked about girls. Never looked at girls. Didn’t seem to care at all about girls. Which meant, maybe… maybe…) Jesper sort of wished there was another Blacktip around to spare a knife and stab these stupid thoughts out of his brain.

But then he remembered something else. Something that Blacktip had said.

“Forget Inej,” he said, crossing his arms. “Let’s talk about Haskell. Did he not know you were doing this? Where does he think we are tonight?”

Kaz gave a pained, rueful laugh.

“What does Haskell know would be a shorter conversation,” he rasped. “Haskell doesn’t give a shit about how I conduct my business. So long as I’m bringing him more kruge.”

My business? Jesper frowned. He’d always seen The Dregs as soldiers of Per Haskell. They were fists doing the fighting for old men in the streets. What kind of business could a kid have with a man like Pekka Rollins?

Some days it was like he didn’t know Kaz Brekker at all.

“If Haskell doesn’t know what you’re up to, he can’t protect you,” and Kaz laughed again when Jesper said it, which was even more infuriating. He pushed harder, squatting in front of Kaz to get at eye level. “I thought the whole point of this gang shit was to have each other’s backs. That could have gone very differently just now, and there’d have been no one to come for us--”

“No one is ever coming for us.”

It was starting to rain. Of course it was starting to rain. Jesper blinked back the droplets from his lashes, for the moment stunned by the vehemence in Kaz’s harsh voice. When he glared at Jesper, Kaz almost looked like could start spitting venom.

“I don’t know what you were expecting when you took this job,” he said. “This isn’t some family business where we give each other birthday cakes and presents on holidays. If you fuck up a job, there is no one coming for you.”

For a moment, Jesper let the weight of this wash over him with the rain. If his father only knew how far he’d fallen…

This is just until your debts are paid.

But it was getting harder to tell himself that these days. Kaz Brekker wielded a king-like kind of enigma that was hard to look away from once you got a taste of its power. And these days, Jesper wanted more than just a look, just a taste. He wanted…he wanted…

He closed his eyes, releasing a sigh and whatever he was about to think along with it.

“Brekker,” he said, trying to find the punchline again, “it sounds like you’re admitting that you’ve fucked up this job.”

Kaz rolled his eyes at him.

“No, I definitely meant to get stabbed. That was all part of the grand scheme.” And then he looked away to mutter, “You stupid podge,” and began to shift his body around in what looked to be a sad attempt to stand again.

“You’ve got a real funny way of showing gratitude.” Jesper would offer him a hand in a minute. This was amusing.

“My dearest Jesper,” Kaz said with a sneer, “however will I repay you for getting me stabbed?”

“You are cranky when you’re bleeding!” Jesper observed, suppressing a grin. “Do you want help up or are you just going to roll around like a worm? I’m good with whatever you decide.”

Kaz sighed the heavy sigh of a much older man.

“A hand,” he said, finally.

Jesper clasped his palm to Kaz’s leather glove and, with one hand wedged up under his armpit, hoisted the Bastard of the Barrel to his feet with a groan. Made sure he could remain steady. Made sure he had a decent grip on his cane.

Then they turned their slow, careful steps back to The Slat as the rain fell harder.

“Stop fussing,” Kaz grumbled, batting Jesper back with a glare and an elbow.

Jesper rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. No touching.” He glanced at the boy sidelong, his face grim and determined against the pain. “So, is it like a religious thing or something?”

Kaz looked at him like he was growing tentacles out of his ears.

“What?”

“The only time you’re ever jumpy is if people are going to touch you. Best I can figure that means you’re either a secret nun or someone fucked you up pretty bad. But I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to talk about that, though, so is it a religious thing?”

Kaz gave a grim huff through his nostrils. Shot him a weighted glance out of the corner of his eyes.

“You caught me. I am actually a nun. Out here on the streets, converting all you sinners.”

“And doing a piss-poor job of it, I must tell you.”

“Ah.” Jesper couldn’t tell if Kaz was wincing or waxing poetic. “You’re just making assumptions about which god I worship.”

“A fair point. Hey,” and Jesper made sure to hold out a hand away from Kaz’s body to stop him, “what if I went on ahead and brought back a medik to you? Your wobbles are scaring me.”

“I am not wobbling.” Kaz said the word like it tasted bad.

“You’re wobbling a little. You’re wobbling a lot. Hey, don’t give me that look – it is not my fault you’re wobbling.”

“Stop saying ‘wobble.’ It makes less sense every time you do.”

Jesper had to bite his own lips to will himself to keep from saying wobble one more time. Really, Kaz’s gait seemed a little more firm every time he teased him. If his goading could fuel Kaz all the way back to The Slat, it would be worth every contempt-filled glance. Which, quite frankly, Jesper didn’t hate. Goading Kaz was its own kind of fuel.

You are getting dangerously close to flirting with gang boss, Fahey. Keep your head on straight.

(No part of Jesper had ever been on straight.)

The Slat was only two blocks away now. Kaz was grunting every time he set down his bad leg, and they were both soaked in rain to the skin. It would have been easy, Jesper realized, to just run on ahead. Maybe someone could bring a stretcher. Maybe someone had something for the pain.

It was killing him to see Kaz in pain.

“We should cut across through the next alley,” Kaz was saying, his voice strained. “Go in through the back. Shouldn’t attract attention.”

“Brekker,” said Jesper, wishing there was some way to make a joke out of this, “you need attention. All right? We should be taking the quickest way back.”

“No.” Kaz was shaking his head as he grit his teeth. “Haskell shouldn’t know. Shouldn’t see. No one should see.”

“Kaz--”

“Listen to me.” Kaz turned on him savagely then, feral in the midst of the pain. “I am still in charge here. I am still the one who hired you. And that’s working out well for you, isn’t it? You like the cuts you’re getting? You’re getting them because of me. But I can make no guarantees about your future if I turn up there tonight looking like some lowlife runner got the best of me. There isn’t a gang in Ketterdam that looks kindly on that kind of weakness. Are you following me? What happened tonight stays between you and me.”

The rain dribbled off the tile roofs, collecting in puddles around their shoes. Jesper wasn’t sure why he was shivering.

“I follow you,” he said.

So, they cut through the alley, darker and deeper into the veins of Ketterdam. Jesper couldn’t think of jokes anymore. Couldn’t think past the painful breathing next to him. That leather gloved hand pressing against blood-soaked wool. Something in him was screaming at him – This wasn’t even the beginning of how dark the Dregs could be.

If your father could see you now…

There was a stoop at the back door of The Slat, underneath a little awning. And that’s where Kaz dropped with a grunt when they’d finally made it. Like he wasn’t going to take one more step.

Jesper huddled beneath the awning, wrapping his arms around himself. The night was darker than any he could remember.

“Can I get Inej at least?” he asked. Kaz was doubled over his gut, one hand in his hair.

“She’s not here,” Kaz replied. “Surveillance at the docks.”

“Right.”

So Jesper slipped into The Slat alone. And returned with a few kitchen supplies he could scrounge up – some rags, some soap, some clean water in a wooden bowl.

Then he sat next to Kaz on the stoop. Brekker was breathing hard through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly. Steeling himself, Jesper realized.

They hadn’t talked at all about what to do once they got to this point. It had been all jokes and snark and light threatening, but now… Jesper was painfully aware of how little he knew Kaz Brekker, really. He’d hired him for jobs, had trusted him with a few gang secrets. But Jesper only knew of Kaz what the bastard wanted him to see – namely, his scary (attractive) face only. (Don’t think about his attractive face, Fahey, what the hell.)

Beside him, Kaz swallowed. Then slowly moved to unbutton his coat.

Jesper stared down at the wooden bowl in his lap, focusing on his own hands.

But Kaz drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, and Jesper couldn’t stop himself from looking over.

Kaz’s white button-down was open wide – blood-red all across the middle. The hard planes of his chest heaved while he peeled back the blood-soaked fabric stuck to his pale skin, his stomach muscles contracting. The stab wound was higher than his navel, off to the far left -- a blackish, thin line, seeping scarlet. It didn’t seem too deep at least – Jesper was trying to focus on that innocuous fact.

“Here.” Without thinking, Jesper had picked up the clean rag. Reached out for the fabric of Kaz’s shirt.

“Don’t--”

“I know, I know. Don’t touch. I got it.”

And, maybe he felt reassured or maybe he was just too tired, but Kaz seemed to relinquish then. He slouched to one side, holding his shirt open, looking away.

And Jesper, gently, softly, cleared away the blood.

There was only the sound of the rain then, and sometimes Kaz’s stifled wincing.

“Sorry,” Jesper would apologize at the sound.

“’S fine.”

And that was all they would say.

Jesper was trying so hard to not touch Kaz’s skin, his own dark fingers started to shake. And that just made him mad at himself – shaking over blood. Shaking over a boy. Jesper clenched his jaw, hard, and tried to think of boring things to distract himself.

But didn’t work. Because there was literally nothing boring when you were around Kaz Brekker. Ever.

You’ve got a serious problem, Fahey – you know that, right?

He had to move to stand in front of Kaz to wrap the bandage around his torso. Kaz lifted his arms a little while Jesper worked and focused his attention on the stones of the stoop, collecting rain. When Jesper did glance at him, his forehead was collecting sweat, the furrows across it deeper than any 16-year-old’s forehead had the right to be.

“Sorry,” again.

“’S fine.”

Nothing about it felt fine. It felt far too real. Far too visceral. It felt like the last time Kaz was ever going to look Jesper in the eyes. It felt like Jesper was never going to be hired again.

It felt like he had something to lose.

When Jesper had finished wrapping the bandage, he stepped back into the rain, unsure of what to do from here. Kaz closed up his coat again, pressing a hand back over the site of the wound.

This would be the telling moment, Jesper realized. Kaz could tell him to get lost. Or thank him. And Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for thanking.

This is going to be over before it even starts…

Kaz sighed one last time. Drew himself up to stand on the stoop, now a few inches taller than Jesper because of it. He looked wan and pained, and Jesper wasn’t sure how to look at him.

“Think you can help me burn this shirt tomorrow?” he asked Jesper.

Jesper breathed out, surprised. Relieved. Tomorrow, he’d said. With that, he’d made up his mind to forget Kaz’s personal business with Pekka Rollins, with whatever strange vendetta had led them to this moment.

Kaz Brekker still wanted to keep him around. That was enough.

“Yeah, sure,” Jesper agreed, with a casual shrug. “Whatever you need.”

Kaz nodded and turned to limp up the steps. But he turned at the door.

“Are you coming or what?” he barked back at Jesper.

Only then did Jesper relax. And smile to himself. And followed him inside.

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

Tagging: @loveyatopluto, @raging-bisexual-alert, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @annejulianneh111, @whosanxiety, @addies-invisible-life

#six of crows #fanfiction #soc #fanfic #soc fanfic #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper #pining #bi panic #pre-canon #whump #thanks for the ask!

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musette22 · 4 years

Text

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet

You Make My Heart Skip a Beet

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: Teen and Up

A/N: Based on this lovely prompt by @greyhoundsgirl. I have to be honest here, I’ve never actually seen Top Chef though so I thought it would be safer to make up a new fictional amateur cooking competition which I’ve titled Chef Wars :p

No warnings to speak of, apart from maybe for awful food puns, but it is a bit of a cracky piece, and it’s in Sam POV (poor guy). Hope you enjoy!! 💗 Huge thanks to the amazing @rainbowsandcoconut for brainstorming, food puns and awesome beta’ing, as usual 😘

Read on AO3

Summary:

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

****************************

When Sam and Steve had first been approached about being guest judges on an Avengers-themed special of Chef Wars, they’d spent a full fifteen minutes jumping around the common room in the Tower like a pair of overgrown kids on a sugar high.

Guest judges. On Chef Wars.

It so happens that Sam and Steve watch Chef Wars religiously. In fact, Steve even mentioned this in passing in one or two of his more recent interviews when asked how Captain America likes to spend his downtime, which is probably how the show’s executives had thought to invite them in the first place.

Sam’s love for cooking and cooking shows was passed down to him by his mother Darlene, and he, in turn, passed it on to Captain America – though if you’d told ten-year-old Sam that, he would’ve thought you were nuts. Poor Steve isn’t exactly the culinary sort of guy himself, but once Sam started turning up on his doorstep three nights a week to keep him company and make sure he didn’t sink further into depression, he’d slowly started to enjoy the shows Sam insisted on watching with him. Sam figured the familiarity of the actions and the low stakes of an amateur cooking competition would be perfectly suited to someone trying to integrate into a new century, while still being just exciting enough to hold the attention of an adrenaline junkie like Steve.

And he was right. So now, every Thursday night, the two of them chill on Steve’s couch, yelling at the TV and pretending they‘d do a better job of it than the contestants. Which, to be fair, Sam probably would, but Steve decidedly would not. What Steve lacks in culinary skills, though, he more than makes up for with his crazy supersoldier metabolism, rivaled only by the Other Guy and sometimes Thor, once he’s cracked open the mead. Steve can eat, and he does so with relish.

So needless to say, when they got the invite, they’d both jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t, when presented with the opportunity to do the thing they did every Thursday night for funsies, but this time for realsies? And after weeks of giddy anticipation, today is finally the day.

Filming day.

The whole thing had gotten off to an excellent start. The sun was shining, Steve had actually been whistling on their way to the studio instead of nervously drumming his fingers on the dashboard (something which got on Sam’s nerves like nothing else), and they’d been offered some quality Italian espresso when they arrived. The show got on the road as soon as they’d gotten a quick tour of the studio, and after lights, camera, action, the contestants were introduced one by one.

There is Bernadette, a Missouri housewife who turned out to be somewhat of a BBQ expert and who reminds Sam of his Aunt Jenna; there’s Bob, a big, burly dude from Kentucky who wouldn’t look amiss on a Pro Wrestling show but who ends up surprising them all with a surprisingly delicate edible flower-dish dedicated to his lovely wife; and Yulia, a tiny, fierce girl from Bulgaria with some mean knife skills who Sam suspects could very well be a distant relative of Natasha’s.

And then there’s Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes is a thirty-one-year-old physical therapist from Brooklyn who’s looking to change careers and get into the restaurant business full time. He has that whole hipster vibe going on: long, meticulously conditioned chestnut hair in a messy top knot, designer stubble, sleeve of – admittedly awesome – tattoos on his left arm. His cool, blue eyes and sharp cheekbones give him a model-like appearance, and yet there’s something soft and disarming about him.

Steve certainly seems to think so, at least.

The moment Barnes came walking through those glass doors, Sam heard Steve suck in a sharp breath at his side. A quick glance at Steve’s slack-jawed expression told Sam all he needed to know, since the dude is about as subtle as a sledgehammer. He’d elbowed Steve in the side until he looked over and pretended to wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth. Steve’s eyes went wide as he hastily mirrored the movement, missing the joke by about fifty yards. Oh, boy.

From that moment onward, Steve’s brain seemed to have gone through a blender, turning it into a rainbow smoothie – which was pretty unfortunate, considering they were going to have to interact with the contestants in a way that was suitable for daytime television.

The thing is, Steve is not exactly what you’d call a people person at the best of times. He’s fine with someone he’s known for a while and feels comfortable with, but with strangers he’s just… a little awkward. Credit where credit’s due, Steve is one of the most loyal, sweet, funny and whip-smart guys Sam has ever known – and let’s not forget stubborn as hell – but he’s also very, very bad at social cues. It’s not his fault, of course. Steve had gone from growing up pretty isolated without any real friends to speak of, to suddenly spending years surrounded only by his army buddies, which wasn’t at all representative for how normal people interacted with each other (Sam knows this from experience).

While Steve’s many social faux-pas are an endless source of entertainment for Sam, he’s not a total asshole, and he has tried to help Steve practice his social skills. Unfortunately, giving him well-meaning advice like “just be yourself” seems to be a sure-fire way to ensure Steve will put his foot in his mouth somehow.

That’s why Steve prefers to put on his Cap persona for public interactions. When he’s Captain America instead of Steve Rogers, all he has to do is look commanding and sort of friendly and say bland things like “I’m very happy to be here” and “You did well, son” and no one would be any the wiser that beneath that righteous exterior, Steve was floundering and wondering when he could reasonably leave whatever social engagement Pepper had sweet-talked him into attending, and head home to the comfort of his armchair and his sketchbook.

For today’s engagement, Steve had wisely adopted this approach as well, and the fact that he was genuinely excited to be there helped to loosen him up a little – so really, it should’ve all been fine.

But then Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn walked into the room and turned his big, blue eyes in Steve’s direction, and Steve promptly seemed to forget who or what a Captain America even was.

So far, Steve has already missed his cue twice, and it’s taken Sam stepping on his toes to get him to focus. To be fair, though, Steve puts in a valiant effort to pull himself together, managing to ooh and aah in all the right places when talking to the other candidates – sheer dumb luck, if you ask Sam. But as Steve’s best friend and confidante, Sam sees right through it. He hasn’t missed the way Steve’s gaze keeps drifting in Barnes’ direction, and coupled with the blush creeping up the back of Steve’s neck whenever Barnes’s eyes meet his, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Cap has got himself a Manhattan-sized crush.

Now, most people probably aren’t aware that Captain America is also attracted to men, but Sam has a feeling that by the end of this episode, that cat will be most definitely out of the closet. Steve’s never purposely hid his sexuality; it was more of a question of it never having come up yet. It sure as hell has come up now.

And what makes this even better is that Barnes is just as bad. He stuttered his way through his introduction, very obviously starstruck at meeting Captain America, but also very obviously gay as hell for him, if the way his eyes lingered on Steve’s chest and thighs is any indication. Sam, for his part, is incredibly amused by it all. Not only does he get to be on the set of his favorite cooking show, he also gets to rib Steve, throwing in as many food puns as he possibly can – most of which go over Steve’s head because he’s too busy drooling over Barnes. Sam’s wit is wasted on his friends.

Then, it’s time to judge. In the first round, the contestants are supposed to make something which represents why they got into cooking in the first place.

Sam can feel Steve practically vibrate with nerves at his side as they walk up to Barnes’ station. Feeling magnanimous, Sam decides to have mercy on his muscly pal and take the lead on this one.

“Mr. Barnes,” he says, giving Barnes an encouraging smile. “Tell us about your dish, if you please.”

“Call me Bucky,” Barnes says, returning the gesture with a quick quirk of his lips.

Next to him, Steve repeats the name in a whisper, most likely unaware that he’s even doing it.

Sam has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

*****

Bucky’s confessional

“I grew up in Brooklyn, as the eldest of five kids. My dad left when I was fifteen, and while I was still in school, my mom had to work three jobs to provide for us all. She wasn’t home much, so it was kind of up to me to make sure dinner was on the table most nights.”

Bucky plucks at the seam of his black skinny jeans, lost in thought. “I think that’s why my specialty is comfort food. Nothing unnecessary, just hearty, nutritious food, y’know?” With a tilt of his head, he adds, “Although since all my siblings moved into their own places I’ve been cooking mostly for myself and my cat, so I’ve been experimenting with adding some twists to my tried and tested recipes.” He laughs, right hand clasping the back of his neck in a bashful gesture. “I’ve had… mixed success. Luckily Alpine has loved all of it. She’s my cat.”

“My first dish today is Irish soda bread with sage butter and Himalayan sea salt,” Bucky continues. “Bread was something we could never have enough of in our household. Five growing kids, y’know? And also, um...” A slight blush creeps its way onto Bucky’s cheeks, his eyes flitting around nervously. “Well, I guess you could say I used to be a bit of a history nerd growing up. I was super interested in World War II, particularly, uh, Captain America.” His blush deepens, spreading upwards from the neckline of his white t-shirt to the tips of his pierced ears.

“I, uh, I basically read every Steve Rogers biography I could get my hands on, which is why I learned to make things like soda bread because, y’know, Steve Rogers was Irish. Is Irish,” he corrects himself. Bucky’s eyes glaze over, taking on a faraway look. “Man, I couldn’t believe it when Cap was found a few years ago,” he marvels, “and alive. I don’t think I slept for a week after I found out.” He stares into space for a moment before shaking himself. He clears his throat, eyes refocusing on the person behind the camera. “Anyway, so when I heard that Chef Wars was doing an Avengers-themed special, I immediately applied because Steve – Cap, I mean- Captain America. Um. Yeah, so Cap mentioned in a few of his interviews that he watches Chef Wars, so I figured there would be a good chance he’d be watching this one too, you know? And then I got the email that I’d been selected and that he was going to be the one judging us, and I just…” Bucky trails off, looking a little faint, the blood draining from his face as quickly as it had risen.

“God, I just can’t believe I’ll finally get to see him in the flesh.” His eyes widen. “In person, I mean," he hastily amends. "And I’m excited about my dishes too, of course. I really hope Cap will like them. And the Falcon. Him, too. Yeah.”

*****

“I made soda bread.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

When Steve puts a piece of bread into his mouth and chews slowly, he sniffs, eyes turning a little watery. “It tastes exactly like my mom’s,” he says in a hushed voice, sounding like he can’t quite believe his taste buds. Sam pats Steve’s back consolingly, before scooping up some sage butter with his own piece of bread and taking an enthusiastic bite.

“Hmm, nice,” he says, giving Barnes an appreciative nod. “And the butter? You make that yourself, too?”

“You butter believe it,” Barnes replies, then immediately looks horrified, like he can’t believe he made a pun that bad on national television.

Sam cackles, holding out his fist for Barnes to bump. When Barnes has recovered enough to return the gesture with his left hand, Steve stares longingly at their touching hands, before letting his gaze trail over the tattoos on Barnes’ exposed forearm. Since he's not exactly subtle about it, Barnes catches him looking and gives Steve a tentative smile when their eyes meet. Steve chokes on absolutely nothing and launches into an impromptu coughing fit. “Crumbs,” he wheezes, thumping a massive fist on his massive chest, “wrong pipe.”

Sam just smirks at him, before turning back to Barnes. “That was delicious,” he tells him. “Can’t wait for your next dish, man.”

“Really, really, good,” Steve chimes in once he’s caught his breath. “Well done, Bucky.”

Barnes goes as red as a tomato, eyes trained on the floor as he awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Steve, please,” Steve implores.

Barnes bites his lip, looking up at Steve through his lashes. “Thanks, Steve.”

Sam's pretty sure Steve stops breathing altogether right then. Christ, it’s like there’s an electrical current running between the two of them, the air crackling with it. Thunderbolts and lighting, very very nauseating.

Sam claps his hands. “Right,” he says loudly, “moving on to the next contestant now… Yulia, what have you prepared for us?”

*****

By the time the second round rolls around, Steve has had a series of meltdowns and Sam has spent precious time he could’ve been exploring the set and taking pics for his mom on talking Steve out of a bathroom stall. Damn, he’s a good friend. It takes all of Sam’s VA-honed therapist skills to convince Steve that he’s doing fine, he’s not embarrassing himself, and no one but Sam has noticed Steve’s massive heart boner for Barnes yet. Sam actually isn’t entirely positive about that last one – or the first two for that matter – but Steve doesn’t need to know that. There are still two rounds to go.

In the second round, contestants are asked to make a dish that represents who they are as a person.

While the contestants are cooking up a metaphorical storm, Sam and Steve walk around their stations to chat with everyone some more, camera crew on their heels. Steve manages to get out at least three complete sentences, and Bernadette and Bob are too in awe of him to notice the few times he says something that doesn’t actually make any sense. Yulia has given no indication that she even knows who either of them are, and Sam can practically feel the relief radiating off of Steve. He guesses that’s part of why he and Natasha get on so well.

When they round on Barnes’ station, Barnes has just started seasoning his dish. There’s a checkered dishcloth slung over his right shoulder and a focused look on his face, which turns into one of low-key stress the moment he spots Steve and Sam coming towards him. Leaning his hip against the counter, Sam settles in to watch Steve make a fool of himself. He's not disappointed.

“Wow,” Steve says inanely, gesturing in the direction of Barnes’ hands. “That’s- you’re- you’re really good at that.”

Barnes pauses his turning of the peppermill to give Steve a slightly panicked look. “At… grinding?”

At Steve’s strangled cough, Barnes seems to realize what he just said, his bewildered expression morphing into one of abject mortification. The poor guy looks like he’d very much like the ground to swallow him whole right about now.

Honestly, these two deserve each other.

When they've finished chatting to everyone and it’s time to taste, Barnes is asked to explain his dish and how it represents him. He seems to have pulled himself together somewhat since their last encounter, his stance a little more confident now and his eyes only drifting to Steve’s pecs every other sentence.

“I’m a simple guy,” he tells them, somehow managing to make it sound genuine instead of cliché. “I enjoy the little things in life. I like taking care of people, making them feel good and comfortable, and I think that’s reflected in my cooking. I enjoy making comfort food, the hale and hearty stuff.” He licks his lips, meaningfully adding, “Although, don’t get me wrong. I do indulge occasionally. I’ve got my guilty pleasures same as everyone else, y'know?” That last part is directed at Steve, who nods dazedly, like he knows exactly what Barnes means. Gross.

“So I guess you could say you’re just… arugula guy?” Sam grins, cheerfully ignoring the growing sexual tension.

Barnes stares at him for a beat, and then snorts. “You know what?” he says, returning Sam's grin, “the s’more I get to know you, the s’more I like you.”

Sam has a very real moment where he thinks he might actually fall in love with this guy himself. It’s only Steve’s doe-eyed look that keeps him from proposing to Barnes there and then. Okay, and maybe the fact that Barnes is clearly smitten with Steve, and also Sam is straight and very happily dating Nat, who would not hesitate to gut him if he decided to elope with some pasty hipster dude.

Barnes’ dish – mac and cheese with black truffle and locally sourced cheeses and fancy cuts of bacon – is mouthwateringly good, and Sam tells him as much. Using appropriate words to do so. You know, like a normal person.

Steve, on the other hand, moans loudly around his bite and then, mouth still full, he blurts, “That’s exactly what I thought you’d taste like.”

In the painfully awkward silence that follows, Steve and Barnes blush so hard the combined heat of their flaming cheeks could probably power most of New York City. This time, Sam can’t contain his laughter. He crows as he gleefully slaps his thighs, and even some of the crew is hiding having a hard time staying professional in the face of such blatant dumbassery.

Shaking his head, Sam grabs Steve by the bicep and herds him towards the backroom. “Come on, Casanova,” he says. “Let’s get you some ice for those burns.”

*****

For dessert, Barnes goes all out.

He actually makes Captain America cake pops, shaped and decorated like Steve’s shield with blue, red and white frosting. Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees them. Barnes explains how they’re “sort of an adult version” of normal cake pops, which makes Sam raise an eyebrow. He’s been on the internet. He unfortunately has seen adult versions of all kinds of Captain America paraphernalia. Fortunately, Barnes just means that his cake pops have some sort of liquor in the center, “for a punch, you know?”

The starry-eyed look Steve gives Barnes clearly conveys just how clever he thinks that is, and Sam surreptitiously rolls his eyes. No game whatsoever, either of them.

“I’ve never had a cake pop before,” Steve says, carefully picking up one of the treats and inspecting it curiously.

“Oh,” Barnes says, blinking at him. “Well, normally you’d eat them in one go, but these are a bit bigger than usual because of the shape of the shield, so you probably won’t be able to fit -”

The rest of his sentence sort of peters off into a stunned silence as Steve proceeds to stick a whole-ass giant cake pop in his mouth in one go, letting out an appreciative grunt as he chews and then swallows.

Barnes’s mouth goes slack. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes glazing over, and Sam cracks up. Again.

The cake pops are actually surprisingly good, despite their garish (sorry, Steve) appearance, and then it’s time to retreat and deliberate. As was to be expected, Steve has a crisis of conscience.

“I can’t vote for him just because he made my mom’s soda bread and he practically raised his baby sisters by himself and he cooks for his cat and he has pretty eyes, Sam!” he laments, voice muffled into his massive forearms. Sam makes the filming crew promise not to air this bit. It takes some doing, but finally Sam manages to convince Steve that Barnes’s food was simply the best. Better than all the rest. He even does a little Tina impression to get his point across, and that seems to do it.

When they announce the winner, Barnes smiles so wide it transforms his whole face and makes Steve melt into a puddle of Gü.

Sam has to nudge Steve again to get him to say his line, since he’s too busy mooning over Barnes to notice the autocue changing. “Ah, yes!” Steve says loudly. “First prize is a substantial sum of money, sponsored by Tony Stark, which we hope will go towards opening your own restaurant–"

“… and a weekend stay at Avengers Tower, also sponsored by Tony!”

Steve’s head whips around to him in surprise. Sam winks at him. “Including a private tour of the premises by none other than Captain America himself. Isn’t that right, Steven?”

A beat of silence, and then Steve.exe starts back up. "Right,” he nods, drawing out the word. “Yes. That’s right.” Sam pats his arm. Good man.

Stepping forward, Steve takes Barnes’ hand and shakes it slowly. “Congratulations, Bucky. I look forward to seeing you again soon," he says, adding, after a quick, bracing inhale, “and maybe when you visit, I can make my mom’s stew for you? If- if you like?”

Sam feels a surge of pride. Look at Steve go, being something almost in the vicinity of smooth.

Barnes laps it up, beaming at Steve. “I’d really love that,” he says in a low voice, still holding Steve's hand. “I’m sure you’re delicious.” His eyes widen. “It’s delicious. The stew – not- not-" Abruptly, Barnes stops babbling, then seems to come to a decision. “Oh, fuck it,” he mutters, and pulls Steve towards him, crashing their mouths together in a scorching kiss.

Over the noise of the assembled crowd's whoops and cheers, Sam gleefully calls, “And that, my friends, is a wrap!”

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #shrunkyclunks #meet cute #fluff #top chef #chef bucky barnes #my fic #my writing #ao3 #sam wilson pov

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candlelight27 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6: This Mask That I've Become

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: kissing in a church lol, tresspassing and etc... don't do that, kids

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 7065

AO3: This Mask That I’ve Become

A/N: Thanks to @galamixx again for being my beta! It's hard, I know lol so I appreciate it a lot!!!

I hope you like this chapter! It was a bit hard cause I'm going into unknown territory, but I hope you enjoy it either way. Comments, likes, whatever is really really appreciated! Thanks for sticking around with this!

My dearest Byleth,

Your letters brighten my days, otherwise dulled by duties. I must ask for your forgiveness again, since I couldn’t answer any text message yet. Seteth is trying to help me, but he’s not well versed in technology either. The world is moving way too quickly for us to catch up…

Please, keep updating me with the news of our dear students. I’m truly happy to see them thrive and prosper in the continuation of their studies. All those stories you tell me remind me of good times, already gone… Times I wish to never forget. It’s a gift of the Goddess to be able to see them again, even though I must stay in the shadows of this lonely cathedral.

I know we mustn’t be seen together, but I long to see you. Please, visit us soon. Seteth wants to have tea with you, too. He’s much more cheerful now that he’s sure Flayn is safe and sound whatever she wishes to do.

The real reason for this letter is to inform you that I arranged an archive to keep all of our memories safe. I know I refused your petition at first, but after long hours of deep thought, I came to the same conclusion as you. It’s our obligation to ensure the safety of the continent and everyone who lived here, and if we lose our memories, we wouldn’t be able to do it. And in case we die… others will take on our legacy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to take a look at them soon, so you can add any necessary information. I’ll send them as soon as they’re finished.

I’m doing as you instructed: I’m writing reports and so are the other Nabateans.

Thank you for your dedication, Byleth. I’ll always be here for you.

Yours sincerely,

Rhea.

Sylvain and you were next to each other, leaning over the table in your kitchen. Your gaze was fixed on the careful strokes of Rhea’s quill. Ingrid wasn’t home, so told her you’d invite Sylvain over to study and finish that project ‒ which you hadn’t touched in months, if you were being honest. Of course, it was just an excuse. Instead of doing homework, you were chatting and conspiring among opened books about matters not related at all with university. Who’d rather do that when you were living a real adventure?

As you went over the letter for an eleventh time, Sylvain called your name expectantly. He had a bright gleam in his eye that screamed trouble.

“Do you know what day it is next Friday?” He asked, a tilted smile on his lips.

“It’s the 21st,” You answered. You took the letter with your index finger and thumb, and slowly placed it back inside the envelope.

“Yes and no, my dear friend. It’s the founding day of the Kingdom of Faerghus”, Sylvain pointed out. You raised your eyebrows, questioning. You already knew that, just as every other student; that day marked the date when lessons were interrupted. Typically, there was a week more to hand over projects and other requirements to pass the subjects, so some students went right back home, yet others stayed behind in their dorms until they were completely finished.

“So what?” You asked.

The redhead breathed deeply as he prepared mentally for what was coming next. He felt the weight of your eyes on him. Were you judging him? No, you weren’t, he was well aware of that, but he couldn’t discard all those doubts that bombarded him at all times. He felt the guilt running through his veins and he was second guessing his next proposition.

“I’ve got a plan,” he managed to say at last. That charming façade of his that made him always get his way had faded away. You tilted your head, unable to make heads or tails of Sylvain and prompting him to explain himself. He cleared his throat and continued. “That evening, a special mass is going to be celebrated, just like every year. It’s the perfect opportunity to sneak a peek of those documents.”

“The perfect opportunity?” You exclaimed, eyes wide open. “Sylvain, it’s going to be crowded!”

“Yes! That way, nobody will notice we’re hiding in the old confessionary booth! You know they barely use it anyways. Then, we get out when everybody’s gone, we go to Rhea’s office, find the documents and run away as far as we can.”

You blinked, once, twice, thrice. Sylvain was impatient to hear your opinion. He was jolting his leg up and down out of nervousness as you bit your lips, deep in thought. He already knew you had said you were in this together, that you'd help him find the truth, yet those were just words, not acts. He needed your reassurance once again, for deep inside his chest, against his wishes, he was expecting you to reject his idea, to ridicule him and leave him behind ‒ just like Miklan, like his parents. Because wasn’t that what always happened? He trusted someone, then they’d betray him for circumstances that he never could understand.

“Are you sure that’s not trespassing?” You frowned.

“Since it’s a religious building, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he claimed. “There’s a right of devotion, or something like that.”

“You’ve thought of this carefully, haven’t you? It’s a solid plan.” You nod slowly. Solid and stupid. It could work, but it entailed a great risk.

“It is,” Sylvain said. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, waiting for your objections.

“What if somebody catches us?”

“We’ll say we forgot something”, he posed. “My phone, your purse, whatever.”

“Seteth won’t buy it”, you argued.

“But it’s me who you’re going with,” he pointed to his own face. “He’ll just think we’re there to bang. He’ll lecture us and won’t think about it further. My reputation precedes me, after all.”

“Okay, fine”, you yielded easily. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You stretched your arms, thinking about what you were getting into. However, for some indefinite reason, you weren’t worried about it. You were more worried about him.

Sylvain was relieved but, as always, uneasy with his own actions. Was he asking too much of you? Was he pushing your limits? It was hard to act all cool and mighty around you when he could barely control his own feelings and the messy train of thought that always accompanied him.

“I’ll drive us there,” Sylvain commented when he noticed he had been silent for a while. Even though you nodded and tried to smile, you were worried about Sylvain. You noticed him getting lost in his own thoughts, and it was worse that he had the horrible habit of never telling anyone what tortured him inside. Despite wanting to ease him, you couldn’t do anything but reassure him that the plan will go well. Executing it was the only thing left to do now.

Sylvain double parked right in front of your building. He was well dressed to go to the Cathedral, with a white button-up, dress pants and boots. His parents might be there, after all, and he didn’t want to piss them off. Sylvain tapped the wheel with his fingers. It was too early, but he couldn’t wait at home — He was restless, so he had driven to distract himself. Still, that didn’t make him calmer, so he was restless in front of your window instead.

Impatient and anxious, Sylvain grabbed his phone out of his pocket and wrote a message. There was a reason for his uneasiness: he was going to ask you out. Or he was going to reiterate his love for you and see where things would go from there.

Torn between his own actions, his happiness, and if it might make this whole timeline shenanigan more confusing for you, he couldn’t fall asleep and instead dwelled on it for hours. Something had to change. Pitying himself and being a hollow piece of shit to almost everyone only deepened the wound in his soul. He plucked up the courage and decided he’d do things the right way from then on. And, first, he had to confess to you a couple of things ‒ a sort of declaration of intent.

Sylvain wouldn't ask Ingrid for advice, because she would think this is another one of his dating escapades. She never takes him seriously. Dimitri always understood him, but was clueless. So was Felix, who would be even more unwilling to help. Claude would give him the best piece of advice, but he refused asking the Almyran out of pride. And he was sure Dorothea would tell him to fuck off. So he had only one option. His usual first option, because she knew him like the palm of her hand and always spoke her mind: Mercedes.

Sylvain 15:10 : Mercedes, pls, help me ☹

Mercedes 15:10 : What’s wrong, Sylvain?

Mercedes answered almost immediately. Her attention eased his nerves. Sylvain looked at his watch; he had about twenty minutes left until you’d meet him and sort out his agitation.

Sylvain 15:11 : It’s about you-know-who

Sylvain 15:11 : I need your advice

Mercedes 15:11 : You-know-who finally confessed?

Sylvain 15:12 : No, but I might?

He had finally worded it. A weight lifted off his shoulders. Mercedes would know if it was madness or in fact it would work, right?

Mercedes 15:12 : What are your true intentions?

Sylvain 15:12 : I think I’m in love, for real

Mercedes 15:13 : Oh dear

Mercedes 15:13 : At first I thought you weren’t that serious

He could hear the voice of Mercedes exclaiming, as he had for years. He wasn’t surprised. How many times has he toyed with the idea of love only to discard it? And he had never ever been serious with anyone. If somebody showed the littlest interest in him, he’d dismiss that person and do terrible things to them before they’d do them to him.

Mercedes 15:13 : I told her to be careful around you because you play with women’s feelings

Sylvain 15:13 : I’m not angry, can’t blame you for speaking the truth

Sylvain 15:14 : But you’re the worst wingman ever, tbh

Sylvain 15:14 : Still love you tho <3

Mercedes 15:14 : There is something positive!

Mercedes 15:14 : You-know-who hasn’t run away yet! You two grew closer instead! Most would have run away!

Mercedes 15:15 : I think that’s a good sign

Mercedes 15:15 : She might be in love with you, even if she doesn’t know it

Sylvain 15:16 : I don’t like that might. I’d rather to be sure about it

Mercedes 15:16 : Just remember doubts are natural, but you must persist

Mercedes 15:16 : It’s now or never, confess your love!

Mercedes 15:17 : And don’t play with her feelings, please

Sylvain 15:17 : I know it’s hard to believe, Mercie, but I’m serious

Mercedes 15:18 : Sothis has answered my prayers then 😊

Sylvain 15:18 : Or Byleth. The professor paired us on that damned project.

Mercedes 15:18 : I have to go now. I’ll answer later. Write to me if you need it, ok?

Sylvain 15:19 : Ok, see you! Thanks, Mercedes

He appreciated Mercedes’ honesty. However, she had given Sylvain another headache, for the devout girl had reminded him of something else. He hadn’t gone out with a girl in months. He had uninstalled all his dating apps – which weren’t exactly for dating, obviously, but flings. Even so, years of being a bastard had to catch up with him at some point, and he guessed it’d be soon enough.

A knock on the window of the car startled him. It was you, with a radiant smile.

“You’ve come early!”, he greeted you as he opened the window. Unknowingly, Sylvain hid his mobile phone. “Get in.”

You went around the car, which looked new, but not extravagantly expensive, and opened the door.

“You’re the one who is early!”, you said, fastening your seatbelt. “Did I have you waiting for too long?”

“Not at all!” Sylvain brushed it off.

“I saw your car through the window, that’s why I came earlier”, you smiled.

Without further ado, he started the engine and thus began your two-hour journey to the biggest cathedral in Fódlan, and your old highschool.

The nearer you were to Garreg Mach, where you practically lived for years – excluding holidays, of course, when you’d visit your family – the more mountains and nature you’d see through the windows.

Sylvain was suspiciously quiet yet again.

“I thought Dimitri would be coming with us?” You asked to spark a conversation against the unbearable silence.

“He’s going to spend all the break with his father in Faerghus after the mass, so he’s not returning to college afterwards,” Sylvain explained nonchalantly. “Besides, he doesn’t like when others drive. Just an odd habit of his.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How come you aren’t going to Faerghus afterwards too? You’ve finished all your papers.”

“Nah”, he shrugged. “My relationship with my family… is rocky. So I’ll be staying behind until our university closes and I finish all my excuses.”

“I thought Miklan was gone for a long while.”

“Well, it’s not just Miklan...” The redhead added. “My father is not interested in me and my whole being, but rather in my grades and my capacity of managing his businesses and his land. Oh, and he’s also-” Sylvain hesitated. He realized he usually doesn’t open up to others this fast. However, thinking about the past you two share, and how you’re always genuine to him despite everything he’s making you do, he continued. “My father is also constantly trying to auction off my hand to any bigwig’s daughter who might make a big investment for the family. It’s exhausting.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m sorry you have to deal with a family like that.” You commented sympathetically. You wanted to express your compassion, so you caressed his shoulder. However, Sylvain flinched in the slightest manner, which you noticed and retreated your hand.

“Remember those girls in the library long ago?” He wondered.

“Yes.”

“I met them in one of my father’s parties. Two fickle, capricious girls that wanted a good catch to get expensive gifts and an exciting roll in the hay.” His tone was harsh, and you saw his knuckles whiten over the wheel. Suddenly, he changed his register into a lighter one. “I forgot to tell you that Edelgard is going to be there with Dimitri. She usually can’t attend, since Enbarr is too far away. Maybe she’s going to stay with Dimitri in Fhirdiad to… amend their relationship. Who knows. And Hubert will be surely there, being Edelgard’s shadow.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she is Dimitri’s step sister, after all, they ought to be on good terms,” You commented.

“Isn’t she your friend?”

“Not exactly. Well, not like Dorothea. We get along, but we haven’t met that much outside the classroom.” You answered.

“I see.” He nodded slightly.

You took advantage of your position in the co-pilot seat and observed him. His soft hair, dark red in the roots and orangey where the light caressed it, the shape of his straight nose and his outlined jaw... He was objectively handsome. The actions of those girls Sylvain talked about were despicable, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that they thought they had won the lottery: this man was rich, handsome, friendly and extremely seductive. However, they had miscalculated the situation, because they had not been the first nor the last ones to try, and they didn’t know Sylvain hated playing that game.

It saddened you, that he had to live that. But it saddened you even deeper in your heart that you didn’t know what to expect. Nothing could assure you that Sylvain would get over his ex-lovers and stalkers. And yes, you liked him – some would assure you were in love with him – but would you be able to pursue a romantic relationship? Especially in this situation?

Ingrid had voiced her opinion a lot of times: you shouldn’t try it. You knew that whatever you did, she was going to support you, but she had her reservations. Mercedes was wary as well. The only dissonant view was Dorothea’s.

Dorothea had gone to a date with Sylvain back in high school and she concluded he was a pig. You had heard so, sat in your desk right behind hers as she was telling the story to Edelgard. Despite that, Dorothea and Sylvain became allies of some sort – which made you jealous until you finally befriended the star of the Garreg Mach choir. It might have been the common nature of the gossip they both faced, or the fact that most of the high-end parties they attended were frequented by the same dull people. It didn’t matter what it was, but, although Dorothea restated constantly that Sylvain was nauseating, her attitude towards him had changed. It lit a small hope within your heart that your friend, who usually despised a lot of men of his kind, was encouraging you.

“Give him a chance!”, she exclaimed one day while you were having lunch with her and Petra. “I feel it in my gut! You’re made for each other.” Petra agreed, although she didn’t know either of you that much.

Yet, what made you different from all those girls Sylvain hated? That unexplained deep connection? Because, other than that, nobody could tell if your love was more authentic than theirs. You weren’t even sure yourself. Did you like him because he was a pretty face, or because you actually were in love? It was hard to tell.

As if Dorothea had read your mind and your hesitation, your phone vibrated.

Dorothea 15:53 : GO FOR THE KILL

Dorothea 15:53 : Make him suffer a little bit before falling into his arms tho

Dorothea 15:53 : AND tell me ALL the juicy details afterwards 😉

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain glanced over at you with a chuckle.

“What?”

“You just snorted!” He laughed.

“Oh, just Dorothea wishing us good luck,” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you weren’t as good as him. He laughed.

“Is she telling you to avoid me like I’m a pest?”

“Something like that…” You lied.

It didn’t matter from which angle you observed it; the Cathedral had always been impressive. The clear stone, bathed in the sunrays, seemed to be pure gold, resplendent in its holiness. The place stirred like a hive with the confluence of people, most of whom you knew. A nostalgic sensation washed over you.

“Could you wait here?” Sylvain asked, moving his head around and narrowing his eyes to figure out the identity of the people around you. “I have to go greet my parents.” He clarified.

“Do you want to go alone?”

“Yes”, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ll meet them one day,” He winked, “but not today.”

The redhead faded into the crowd, while you waited in the courtyard right before the hall. You didn’t know what to do, so you sat over one of the low walls. You saw a patch of blonde hair, but you weren’t sure if it was Dimitri, so you didn’t move. Meanwhile, you recognised many of the passers-by, as they were family of your own classmates, but you doubted they’d remember you.

A deep voice called your name from the shadows of a nearby tree. You looked at the source of the sound.

“Hubert?” You blinked several times. That was a surprise.

“Indeed. I’m here to accompany Edelgard. What are you doing here?”, he asked. “I was certain that you didn’t like going to mass, and you have to ties with the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I’ve come with Sylvain”, you answered. Hubert’s eerie, yellow eyes were fixed on you, disturbing you.

“I see,” he commented. A small grimace that resembled a smile formed on his lips.

“He’ll come in a moment”, you forced a smile. You didn’t dislike Hubert, but he had an extraordinary ability to put your nerves on edge.

“I wanted to thank you for that favour,” he commented efficiently.

“That thing?”, you made an ‘o’ with your lips. “No need to thank me, Hubert. We’re… friends?”

“I prefer the term strategic partners”, he nodded.

“Okay, that name is fine too.”

“The reason I’m here is that I must inform you that the heir of the Gautier is engaged”, he said with solemnity.

“Excuse me?” Your little world shattered into pieces, broken. What the fuck was Hubert talking about?

“A month ago, his parents engaged him with one of the daughters of Mr. Rowe. Since you’re rather close with him, I thought you should know it.”

“... I see.”, you muttered, still shocked, trying to remain composure.

“I must go now,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I apologise for being the harbinger of bad news.”

“No need to worry, I just was surprised. See you around”, you waved at him, indicating that you’d be okay. Hubbert made a bow and vanished.

That was an unexpected turn of events. Your heartbeat was loud and fast, and you did your best to quickly blink away tears so that no one would notice. Despite the doubts, the second thoughts and all the things against you, you had thought you’d be in control whether you ended up with Sylvain or not. However, just like the rest of your life, it seemed that you were trapped in a book somebody else was writing. And now, in the place where your crush had begun, any hope you harboured had disappeared, just like a flame put out with a bucket of cold water.

You opened and closed your eyes rapidly to make the tears disappear and stood up. You breathed in and out in slow movements. Your body began relaxing.

Where was Sylvain? There was almost nobody else outside. The mass would begin in almost five minutes. He must have been talking with his parents, if what Hubert said was true. How were you in such a deep mess?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Sylvain appeared from the lateral of the cathedral.

“Hey! You ready?” He sprang to you.

“Yes,” You tried to cover your face. You couldn’t let him see you in vulnerability.

“Okay, remember the plan.” He leaned into you, lowering his voice. “We sit on the back row, and 10 minutes before the end we get out. Then, we enter through the left door and hide in the confessionary booth. You go in first, then I follow you 3 minutes apart.”

You nodded and walked into the cathedral. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. It was going to be a long evening.

The confessional booth was dark inside. There was a separation between the two parts that composed it, so the space was reduced. You sat on the wooden bench, thankful that it didn’t crack at all.

Sylvain had been right: nobody saw you. The confessionary itself, with an entry in the back, blocked the view of the lateral door to any onlooker that could have been there. On the other hand, you could see the people sitting in the left wing of the building through the lattice in a very convenient way. It was an excellent place to hide. The pulpit was far away, yet the voice of Archbishop Rhea was heard everywhere.

In spite of your relative security, this had to be by far the worst idea you had ever agreed on. Everything seemed doomed in that moment. You were sure in that moment that you’d get caught or expelled. You wanted to run away.

But right then, the back door silently opened and Sylvain entered the scene.

Sylvain’s wide shoulders almost didn’t fit through the entrance. You tried to move around to make some space for him, but it was in vain. You were thankful for the shadows, because your cheeks were growing redder and redder by the moment as his presence became more and more noticeable.

You didn’t know how exactly, but you ended up with your legs over his lap, your shoulders touching and your faces way too close for your liking. At least right then, when Hubert’s words were still fresh in your mind.

The choir started singing a tune, which indicated that the mass was approaching its end. Such pure voices were inappropriate for that moment you were sharing with Sylvain.

“I swear this was bigger before...” Sylvain whispered in your ear. It made your hair stand on end.

“Yes, when we were confessing, being 12 and younger, and being alone. Now it’s even more tiny because someone decided to have the both of us in here.” You grunted back, careful of not being heard.

His breath caressed your face, and his warmth radiated from his clothes. He was too comfortable, and you felt like you could be cuddled like this forever, while at the same time you wanted to run away from his touch. It occurred to you that he might have been a sorcerer, and that he had put you in an unavoidable spell. How else would all these feelings be so intense? It couldn’t be just love, right?

“I have something to tell you,” Sylvain said, but he wasn’t looking at you.

Was he going to tell you that he was engaged? Your breathing was erratic once more. You couldn’t flee, much to your dismay.

“What is it?”

“I…”, he cut himself.

“You…?” You were suspenseful, but you weren’t sure for what. Disappointment? Elation? Sylvain turned his head and fixed his pupils on yours.

“Be my girlfriend.” He managed to speak. You had no words. The world was definitely laughing at your face. “I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. So why not? Isn’t it the logical thing to do?”

“It’s not that easy, Sylvain, despite how much I wish it was.” You sighed, at a loss for better words.

“Why not?” He pressed.

His heart dropped and a thousand thoughts rushed into his mind. He wanted to scream. How could he dare to think someone would genuinely love him? He got hurt, as it always happened. He shouldn’t have let his walls down, not even for you. He shouldn’t seek love, he shouldn’t have bothered. Everytime he considered himself worthy of love, the world around him would start crashing down. ‘You’re set yourself up for failure’, Sylvain kept repeating to himself. That’s what his father always told him when things didn’t turn out well. His father had been right. He was a failure. Even when his intentions were pure, he had already tainted his future. There was no redemption for him, right?

You picked up on the rising panic on Sylvain’s face, and you felt guilt inside your chest.

“I’m scared,” you said, trying to justify yourself. You believed it was the moment to be sincere. “I’m scared that you’re lying to use me. Or that you’d just get bored and throw me away.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he said, horrified by the fact that you wouldn’t accept he was telling the truth. “You’re not like the-”. He interrupted himself. “I see it now. I won’t stop repeating the same sentence, right? Now nobody will believe me.” Sylvain covered his face with his hand. “I cried the wolf way too many times…” He mutters.

“There’s something else,” you whispered.

“Just say it. It’s not gonna get worse at this point.” Sylvain chuckled somberly.

“You’re engaged.”

“It’s not something I chose. And it’s definitely not something I’m happy about.” He stated. Your words felt like a knife on Sylvain’s skin. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I’d get my parents to break the engagement first, but it’s taking longer than I’d expected.”

Out of the blue, Sylvain placed his hands around your face.

“Will you be my girlfriend? You didn’t say no. You know that I wouldn’t willingly propose to a girl when you are right here by my side. You haven’t seen me with another girl, have you?” He assured, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t want to say no,” you answered, confused. “But- Sylvain, we’re doomed. We’re not meant to be.”

“I don’t care about fate. Does that mean you’d give me a chance?” His eyes were intense, hard and, all the same, warm and comforting, with the colour of liquid caramel. Sylvain threw all his doubts away for once, just wanting to be with you. You were one of the only things keeping him happy.

“I don’t know… Sylvain, I-”

“If you tell me I’ve still got a chance, I’m not going to give up. I love you.” He announced seriously. “Don’t get me wrong, if you really want me out of your life, I will do it, but otherwise…”

“This is a trap. How am I supposed to tell you looking at you in the eye that I don’t want to see you ever again?” You complained.

“I’m not a trickster, but I’m not gonna let you go either. I’ll have to convince you to be mine, then.”

“And how are you going to convince me?”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I already did the hardest part, I made you fall for me.” he smirked.

With that, you couldn’t resist the invisible force pulling yourself to him anymore. You crashed your lips against his and sat astride his lap. It was easy; you had already done it before. Sylvain was amazed, but he was not one to lose an opportunity. He kissed you back. Unable to control himself, his hands grabbed your waist, but he didn’t let himself explore. He was unsure of what was happening, but he was glad he’d got to taste your lips a second time.

You pressed your chest against his torso, while trying to hug him closer. His lips were soft and firm, his movements decided, and he knew what he wanted. Sylvain took advantage of a pause you took for breathing and let his tongue slide in. He was voracious and greedy in his attentions, and he did not let a single speck of your mouth untouched.

You were starting to feel dizzy and wanted much more, but you stopped.

“Everybody should be gone by now,” you muttered, his mouth still pressed to yours. He was panting, and you could guess what was on his mind – you could feel his excitement rising in his lap, after all.

“What was that for?”

“I felt like it.” you lovingly took off a lock of his hair from his forehead. “I’m not going to give you my heart just like that, but I swear to the Goddess, I can’t resist you.”

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do it again, you know.” he smirked, releasing you from his grip. “After all, we have to make up for lost time.” He grabbed your wrist before letting you go completely, and lowered his tone. “But don’t get used to torturing me like this, or I’ll eventually lose my composure.”

“I’ll risk it,” you playfully answered while you distanced yourself.

You exited the booth without a single sound. The church was dark, since there was no light coming from the large windows anymore. The sun was gone. The place was creepy without a single source of brightness, and the stone was grey and cold.

Your steps followed Sylvain as he manoeuvred between the pews and towards the sets of stairs that led to the upper floor. You had not been there frequently, just once or twice to help Seteth move some books after class. Sylvain, however, knew the place like the palm of his hand due to Seteth’s insistence in correcting the mischievous redhead’s nature. Seteth never achieved his ambition, of course, but as a result, Sylvain could go to Rhea’s office with his eyes closed. And to Seteth’s one, to the cleaning supplies stall and many more rooms he had the pleasure to visit in his youth.

“Careful with the stairs, the stone is worn-out, and you can fall down”, Sylvain warned you.

There were bright coloured statues of the saints and Seiros splattered around, along with some old-looking tapestries that needed to wash. You couldn’t admire them for long, because before you could register that you were raiding the empty cathedral at 8 p.m., Sylvain had already stopped before a wooden door.

“It’s here”, he stated solemnly.

“Are you ready?”, you asked.

“More than ever”, he smiled and turned around the doorknob.

Of course, it was closed.

“Fuck”, he said.

“We should have expected that”, you rubbed your temple.

“Do you have a bobby pin?”

“Nope”, you hummed.

“Okay, time to go home I guess”, Sylvain suddenly laughed, and so did you. “It feels like we’ve gone crazy, right?”

“Oh my god, Sylvain, you thought about the confessional booth but it didn’t occur to you that the door might have been locked?”, you giggled.

“Shut up! You could have guessed it, too!”

“Four months ago I thought I’d never speak to you in my life, and look at us now”, you couldn’t help the laughs.

“What’s so fun?”, Seteth’s voice reverberated through the narrow corridor, shutting both your mouths at the same time.

He had appeared from a door right across you ‒ from his own office, you presumed. You were so nervous that you couldn’t say a word. It was surreal. Seteth didn’t look angry, he looked curious instead, something you weren’t used to. The years might have eased his nerves. But that fact didn’t make your position any easier.

“Look, Seteth, we’re not here for any funny business”, Sylvain defended himself and you. He stepped forwards out of habit.

“Because entering Lady Rhea’s office is not suspicious at all”, Seteth calmly replied.

“Okay, it seems suspicious. But it’s not what it seems,” he began scratching the back of his head. “I dragged her here and…”

You had relaxed enough to form coherent words. And you decided it was the moment to come out clean, because lies and secrets were just turning your life upside down. Furthermore, Seteth’s presence ignited an old feeling; the need to rely on a much more mature adult. You cut Sylvain’s words.

“Seteth, we’ve come here looking for some papers that belong to Lady Rhea”, you said loud and clear. “We were going to steal them.”

“What are you doing?” Sylvain asked incredulously.

“Seteth, we’ve been having the weirdest dreams”, you said. “And they won’t stop, to the point they seem real, like memories.” Seteth's disposition changed. He tensed, and his face paled. “We went to Byleth’s office and… we read a letter from the Archbishop. We know that those dreams happened, but we wanted to verify it and learn why everything’s happening. Otherwise, we’ll go mad.”

Seteth’s green eyes went from your figure to Sylvain’s and back to you again. It was visible that he was torn, choosing what to do. The older man sighed, defeated. He had lost from the beginning, because he couldn’t conceal his fear from such an unexpected accusation.

“It’s a long story”, Seteth said. “Come into my office and have some tea.”

He let you in the room, only lit with candles scattered around. You and Sylvain sat on a sofa that was behind the coffee table. Sylvain went to a desk filled with piles of papers, where there was an electric kettle and various wooden boxes.

“I’ve got ginger tea and a four-spice blend. There must be some sweet-apple blend too somewhere here, Flayn’s favourite”, Seteth offered.

“I don’t mind which one”, you said, smiling politely.

“We’ll have whatever you're having, Seteth”, answered Sylvain.

There was a prolonged silence. The only sounds were the boiling water of the kettle and Seteth rummaging in his drawers. A nice aroma of ginger slowly spread through the air.

The man of the church placed three teacups on the table and sat in the armchair right in front of you. You had never noticed, but Seteth was fit, way too much for a man of his profession. It made sense, though, when you remembered his expertise upon a wyvern.

“I’m sorry about the light. I never got around installing lamps, and I like the candles. They remind me of more familiar times…”, Seteth said as he poured you a cup of steaming tea. “Where should I begin?”, he inquired.

“Did those things really happen?”, Sylvain asked first.

“Yes”, Seteth nodded matter-of-factly. “All those memories you’ve recovered have happened in the past. Or… in our other lives, as I like to say.”

“Are those things going to happen again?”, it was your turn to ask, then. Seteth could sense the fear in your voice.

“We hope the war will never repeat itself”, he reassured you. “We don’t really know what the future has in store for us, but we’ve deemed it very unlikely. The events that have happened in this era are completely different from those in the past.”

“Who are ‘we’?” Said Sylvain. “If you don’t mind the questions…”

“The Nabateans,” Seteth answered dryly. He took a sip of his cup of tea. “I’m sure you remember, the Immaculate One back in the battle of Garreg Mach, right?”

“Some things are… vague for me”, Sylvain lamented, because you had told him the story a million of times, but he couldn’t recall the encounter.

“I remember it. It was Lady Rhea, right? I remember Edelgard telling us she was a monster controlling the continent from the shadows.” You explained.

“Yes… So-”

“Wait,” Sylvain interrupted Seteth. “Can you turn into a dragon?”

“Not me,” he denied. “It's been hundreds of years, but that’s not quite the topic of this conversation, is it?” The green-haired man reminded him.

“But how did it happen? How did we end up living so many lives?”, you interceded. “Why didn’t we… just die?”

“It’s Byleth’s doing”, Seteth replied. “Lady Rhea, back when Byleth was born in 1159, placed Sothis’ heart in his, hoping our mother would live again…”

“Sothis… the Goddess? She’s real?” Sylvain was dumbfounded. You looked at your cup of tea, then to Seteth, unable to articulate an answer. You were thankful for Seteth’s patience.

“Yes. This gave him great power, as he became one with the Goddess. Which granted Byleth as well the power of turning back the hands of time.”

“So he’s been turning back the time after the war of Fódlan?”, you exclaimed.

“Byleth wanted to save us all from the tragedy that devastated Fódlan. He kept turning back to the year 1180, yet one way or another, the string of events led to the same. So, at last, Byleth decided he needed to go way back, to the beginning of everything.” He paused, and saw your faces focused on every word that was escaping his mouth. He smiled to himself, remembering those times when you both were younger and listened to his lessons. Your faces might have changed, and your voices and bodies, but the eyes of his pupils were still the same. “Sothis, aware of the future, made her holy sacrifice to prevent Nemesis and his kind to take over. The history of Fódlan changed just enough to give us a rest...”

“So Byleth’s hair will be dark blue forever now?”, Sylvain asked.

“Yes. The professor is no longer the vessel of the Goddess,” Seteth clarified. “There are no longer any crests nor Hero’s relics. Therefore, technology has prospered, and your generation was born later ‒ although we don’t know exactly why this happened.” Seteth paused to sip his tea and hear your questions, but all the information had left you and Sylvain dumbfounded. Therefore, he continued his speech, somewhat relieved that he could finally tell a human all these burdens. “Flayn used to cry a lot, weeping about your absence,” he tenderly recalled. “Lady Rhea and I were sad too. We’ve been through a lot, all of us, after all…”

“I have another question, Seteth…”, Sylvain started. He was in deep thought, just like you. “Why is it that we’ve got our memories back?”

“I honestly have no idea…”, Seteth shook his head from side to side. “It could be because of your previous relationship. Back in the Officers Academy you were on... extremely good terms, as far as I know, so when I was your teacher in this high school it surprised me that you two never coincided. However, you’ve found your way next to each other, so perhaps some things are meant to be…” The older man trailed off, but continued. “Well, I don’t know. I know for us, the kin of Sothis, it’s probably due to our blood. For humans… it’s harder to tell.”

You looked at Sylvain from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare to face the ginger.

“Isn’t this a big secret?” you questions, amazed that Seteth ‒ and no other than Seteth himself ‒ was confiding to you such details.

“Yes, it is”, Seteth confirmed, narrowing his eyes.

“Why are you telling us, then?”

“Because, as I said, I appreciate you. Both of you. We’ve fought side by side, you’ve rescued Flayn numerous times”, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “Sylvain risked his life for Flayn numerous times, while you were also close to Byleth. It’s unnatural not to trust you...” Then, Seteth spoke once more. “But I must request that this reunion stays between us. Please. We don’t want any resentment to be born in such a peaceful time as this is. And I’ve broken so many rules right now that I’m frankly scared of what might happen.”

“Okay, we won’t say anything, Seteth”, you nodded. “I promise.”

“You have our word”, Sylvain accepted.

“Not even… Rhea or Byleth. If you don’t mind, this never happened.” Seteth touched his beard.

“Wait, Seteth, I still have Professor Byleth’s letter”, you said, worried. “He must have noticed it went missing…”

“Don’t worry about that, Byleth is a disaster. He came by this morning, I’ll tell him he dropped it and that he should be more careful”, Seteth smiled.

“Thank you, Seteth. For real”, Sylvain said. And you saw for the first time in his eyes the lightest shadow of hope.

#sylvain x reader #fe3h #fe3h fanfic #sylvain jose gautier x reader #female reader #reader insert #sylvain jose gautier #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #fire emblem three houses

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Fandom: Supernatural Rating: T Pairing: Destiel Word Count: 4832 Summary: Dean is a contestant on the dance show 5678, and this year he has to be paired up with a partner until either one of them gets kicked off. Dean's partner is Castiel, the hot ballroom dancer with the stick up his ass. WARNINGS: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Undiagnosed Eating Disorder, Homophobic Slur

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5678. Dean had watched every season of the show, and after years of training in contemporary he’d made it through the auditions, made it through the rounds of disqualifiers, and now he was at the live show. He was living the dream, even if he was working himself to death every week trying to make that dream come true. For this season partners wouldn’t be switched every week to give him a range of dancers to test his mettle with. Nope, instead the network had decided it’d be more interesting for everyone to be paired off, and to gain “diversity points” they decided not all of the couples would be the typical male and female. Dean was kind of bummed. Some of the girls, mostly the ballroom girls, like Anna, and especially Jo, were super hot, and their bodies could move, but he’d been paired up with Castiel, the boy from some small town in the Midwest whose crazy religious parents decided his name needed to sound angelic. He looked like an angel. Smooth skin, blue, blue eyes, like crystals reflected in the light of the sun, dark hair that was always perfectly messy. Castiel was also a ballroom dancer, and he didn’t seem happy to be assigned Dean. He made this obvious because aside from just being a couple on the show, they were roommates. Castiel decided to always get in Dean’s personal space, to stare at him even when he asked him to stop, to give him weird looks when Dean made pop culture references, and he turned him down whenever he asked him to join him for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. And it wasn’t like he was asking him on a date. He just didn’t want to eat alone.

Castiel started spending more time with Zach, and he adopted a rather gruff demeanor, correcting Dean on his dancing, putting him in his place. Yeah, Castiel was the better dancer—he’d had a few extra years of training. But so what? Dean could pick things up fast, which was what got him to the live shows to begin with.

But Castiel was good-looking, and the way he could move was something Dean had only dreamed about. He told stories with his body, painted pictures that transcended reality, and sometimes, just for a few mere moments, during their rehearsals, Dean would lose himself, forget the steps, and just move with him, be with him, and those were the moments where they were the best. Their choreographers noticed it, told them to work on that intimacy. Dean blushed when they brought it up, not sure what that meant. Friendship? Or something more?

They’d finished up for the day, so, Castiel rolled up his sweaty shirt and stuffed it into his bag, pulled on a new one, and hardly gave Dean a look before leaving the studio. Dean shrugged at the choreographers, stuffed his feet into his shoes, and hurried out after him.

“Hey, Cas, that was great!” Dean called to him, speaking over the noise of the crowded city street they found themselves on.

“You need to work on the hits,” Castiel responded gruffly, completely ignoring his compliment.

“What?” Dean asked, jogging a little to catch up, and avoiding people as he did so. “I got too much energy for you, my angel?” he joked.

“Not enough energy.”

“Dude, this isn’t hip-hop. It’s ballroom. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, and ballroom isn’t contemporary. We don’t float around like a bunch of fairy princesses.”

Dean tried to ignore his deprecating comments, and laughed slyly, thinking of the way Castiel could move his hips.

“Oh, buddy, I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shot him a disgruntled look.

Fuck, he looked good like that. Hair mussed, cheeks red, sweaty from a good few hours of creative athleticism. The bored part of Dean’s mind thought of other creative and athletic things they could be doing with their bodies.

It was a stereotype that a lot of dancers got down and dirty when they weren’t on the dance floor, which wasn’t true. Sure, he’d had a lot of girlfriends, and some boyfriends, but other dancers he’d known had gotten almost nothing. Like, Benny for instance. One girlfriend, and he’d only been with Dean a couple times.

“Oh, you know, just that… You know, forget it, never mind. Not important. So, you want to grab some dinner, listen to the song a little more?”

“Dean, that song is stuck in my head. I’ll be lucky if it leaves me after I die.”

“Okay, fair.”

“But dinner, come on. You, me, some burgers, a milkshake.”

“A milkshake?”

“Yeah, two straws?” he joked, wondering if Castiel would pick up on the fact that he was teasing him. “Choreographer said we gotta work on our intimacy.

“And I suppose you think that means we get in bed together,” Castiel responded bluntly.

Dean’s cheeks went red, and he stopped short. Castiel kept walking. It wasn’t long before he lost sight of him in the crowd.

“Hey, wait up!” he called, catching up to him. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“Look, you don’t like me, I get that, but—”

Castiel suddenly whirled on him, and Dean had to stop before he bumped into him. His partner was squinting at him, which Dean had taken a few days to learn meant he was confused.

“What do you mean I don’t like you?”

“Y-y-you correct my dancing, you get in my space, you stare at me, you don’t want to get food with me. I get it, but we need to win this.”

“Dean, I do like you.”

Dean pulled his head back, surprised.

“What?”

Castiel grabbed his arm, something that shouldn’t have startled Dean after all the touching they’d done during rehearsal, but it did.

“Come on.”

He walked them back to their room, hand on his arm, leading him the entire time, and Dean liked the way he was taking charge. It was nice to give in a bit. Though Dean was the taller of the two of them, if only by a couple inches, Castiel had been assigned the leading parts so far in their dances, so he supposed this behavior was natural for him. Besides, Castiel was not small. He was actually wider than Dean, and Dean was a big man. He was relieved neither of them had had to do lifts with each other yet, but he was sure Castiel had the arms for it.

They got inside the hotel lobby, and he pulled him aside to a secluded corner, next to a potted plant that kind of looked like a mini palm tree. Was it a fichus? Dean whacked at one of the leaves.

“I do like you,” he told him.

“What? No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m just an assignment to you.”

“You are. You were. Look, I like you. I just… I didn’t really have any friends back home, so I don’t know how to do this, and…” He lowered his head, cheeks reddening “Have you been on Twitter?” he continued.

“Yeah, a bit. Why?”

Castiel pulled his phone out of his bag, tapped on it a few times, and then turned it around to show the screen to Dean.

Dean studied it for a few seconds, scrolling, looking at the blue hashtag that seemed everywhere before asking, bewildered, “What the hell is Destiel?”

“It’s us, Dean. The fans, they… They ship us.”

“Wait, you know what shipping is?” Dean asked, breaking out into a smile when he realized Castiel had used a pop culture term.

His partner rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look so surprised. I had to look it up. It… It looked like it had to do with me, so I wondered, and I spent last night doing, uh, research? The fans, they want us together.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So… So that makes things awkward, right?”

“We can be friends though?”

Dean looked at the gorgeous young man in front of him, the desperation in his eyes that he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, the kindness. Where had all this come from? Had it been there and Dean had been so wrapped up in himself, in winning, that he just hadn’t seen it before?

“Cas, is this real? You’re not just using me to win?”

“No, Dean. If I’m going to win, it’s because I’m the best dancer, not because I’m manipulative.”

“I don’t know, I feel like you could be pretty manipulative, I mean, with that hair, those eyes…”

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we just be friends?”

“Friends, yeah,” he agreed, blushing once more when he realized what he’d been saying out loud. He hoped he could just lie that his cheeks were just flushed from their workout.

“So what is with you?” Dean asked as they rode the elevator up to their room. “You’re so in the moment, so tough. It’s hard to get through that.”

Castiel shrugged. “My dad was away a lot growing up, I didn’t have my mom.”

“Oh, did she leave?”

“I don’t know what happened to her. My dad never talked about her the times he was around. So I was raised by my big brothers, Michael, Luke, and Gabriel.”

Dean grinned at that. “More Biblical names?”

“Luke liked to tell me Dad was part of a cult,” he explained.

The elevator dinged, coming to a slow halt, and then the doors slid open. Dean and Castiel bumped shoulders trying to get out at the same time, but Castiel, still true to his gruff demeanor, pushed ahead and got out first, leaving Dean somewhat befuddled. Maybe Cas hadn’t noticed he’d acted in such a way. Dean tried to not let it bother him, and was instead trying to focus on the fact that this guy was finally opening up to him somewhat.

And he was definitely going to ignore the fact that he didn’t want to open up to him.

No need to tell him about all the nights his dad came home drunk, yelling at him, or the times his dad’s friends used him to put out their cigarettes, or the times his dad called him a faggot for being a dancer. Called Sam that too, even though Sammy wanted to be a lawyer. He hadn’t done as much to him though, especially since Dean had told Sam to keep things to himself to avoid getting hurt, and Sam had listened to him. He especially wasn’t going to tell him about the fire that killed their mom, and burned down their house, and left them moving from place to place, always being the new kids, never staying for too long. And then there were the times his dad would just up and leave, abandon him and his brother, sometimes without money or food, leaving Dean to do what he had to to take care of Sammy.

Dad never told Dean where he went, but he came back angry and drunk, and then they’d move again, so he suspected he’d gotten into trouble with the cops, or maybe some married woman. Sometimes he wondered if he had a sibling or two he didn’t know about.

“Was he?” Dean asked, realizing he hadn’t said anything about the whole “cult” comment.

Castiel shrugged.

“He was never around long enough for me to ask him. He’d kind of just drop in, tell us what to do, make sure we all knew Luke was his favorite, and then leave. That’s just how it was.”

“You have any guardians?”

“No. Michael was old enough by the time dad left. He hates Luke. Luke hates him too. Sometimes I swear those two are gonna kill each other.”

Castiel swiped his card in the lock, the light shone green, and he opened the door to their room. The nice thing about their room was that it was much bigger than an ordinary hotel room. They had plenty of space to move around, a slightly bigger TV, a microwave, a fridge, a coffee machine, a minibar, a table with two chairs, a stuffed chair and a lamp in the corner, and a window with a nice view over the city. The bathroom was pretty nice too. Dean enjoyed the water pressure in the shower. There was also a big dresser between the two beds, and a dresser that the TV was on. The beds were almost too soft for Dean to get used to.

“You’re joking,” Dean said, hoping he was right.

“Sure.”

His partner didn’t sound too convinced.

“First shower?” Castiel called, drawing an end to their conversation.

It was a question, but he always did this, so Dean just nodded, and let him have it.

He sunk down onto his bed, not caring that he was sweaty—besides, he figured he might have to be up all night getting those hits right. Dean did okay with their other song, which was a jazz routine, and Cas did too. That one wasn’t so bad. It was a story about two dudes, two roommates who wanted to get takeout but couldn’t agree on where to order from, and the props were numerous amounts of food menus that would get all over the stage by the end of the song. There was also a fake phone involved, with a power cord, and a little bit of tying up, with Dean being the one to get tied up. Go figure. Cas, always the one in charge. It made Dean want to slap him sometimes.

But the way he grew up. It sounded hard.

Maybe they weren’t so different.

~~~

“I’ll go.”

“Excuse me?”

Dean had just gotten out of the shower and was in a pair of shorts. It was hot outside given that the beginning of the live show wasn’t that long after summer break started up, and for some reason Castiel had steamed up the bathroom before Dean had gone in. He didn’t really feel like putting a shirt on at the moment, just wanted to lounge around until he cooled off. Castiel was sitting at the table, with his phone out, writing what looked like notes on the little pad of paper provided by the hotel.

“To dinner. I’ll get dinner with you.”

“As friends?”

“As friends.”

Dean sat down and ran a hand through his still-wet hair. “So uh… what ya thinking? Burgers?”

“No, I cut red meat out of my diet.”

“Pizza?”

“Too many carbs, and you can get bloated from dairy.”

Dean sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Come on, do you ever have fun?”

“I’m just trying to stay fit.”

Dean gestured down at his body. “Look at me, I’m fine, and I eat what I want.”

Castiel scrolled through his phone, frowned at what he found there, and then his lips turned down in a little pout. He placed it down on the table.

“Burgers?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Dude, you serious?”

Castiel rubbed at the table with one finger, and Dean couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his hands were. Well, he’d noticed before. He’d happened to watch Castiel’s audition over and over again, watched the strong hands that moved his partner Hanna, lifted her in the air, twirled her around, pulled her close, pushed her away, told her where to go.

Hanna hadn’t made it, and Dean could see why—her lines weren’t precise enough—but Cas? Wow.

“They’re kind of my favorite. It’s why I cut them out.”

“Oh, dude, now we have to go!”

“Great, grab a shirt.”

“Nah, I was thinking I should go out like this. The ladies love it.”

“But I won’t.”

Dean gave Castiel a knowing look, just to tease, not sure how serious he was being about this. “Come on, what’s not to love about this?”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“Shirt. Now.”

“Fine, but when we get to contemporary, your hands are gonna be all over this.”

Castiel frowned at him, but it wasn’t out of anger. His eyes were squinting in the way he did when he was confused, head tilting. It was… cute.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“If I would my bed would be a mess right now.”

A strange noise left Castiel, maybe a growl, and he covered it up by clearing his throat. In a few seconds Dean was nearly one-hundred percent sure he’d imagined it. Nearly.

~~~

Dinner with Castiel was… interesting. That was one way to put it. He ate a lot. Dean did too, of course. He always did, which he chalked up to the fact that he was a big dude who spent most of the day working out. It was made worse by the fact that they didn’t talk, both of them looking at their phones. Dean couldn’t help himself and was looking through that tag on Twitter that Castiel had shown him earlier. It was… somewhat terrible.

He placed his phone in his pocket, trying to ignore it, but he was starting to realize something.

“So what you said earlier, about me not getting the hits,” Dean began, “I was thinking of heading down to the studio to work on ‘em tonight.”

“You know you need me for that.”

Dean shrugged. “Figured I’d use a broom.”

“That only works in movies.”

“What? It was gonna be a sexy broom.”

Castiel wiped his mouth on his napkin, and placed it down with a sigh.

“Do you want my help?”

Now Dean was interested in his French fries, and he stuffed a few in his mouth.

He mumbled a response, not sure how he was supposed to explain to his partner that beneath all his joking he was actually nervous about Castiel being better with this dance than him, “No’ rea’y.”

“Dean, you’re not a ballroom dancer.”

“And?”

“And, do you want to get voted off?”

“Hmm, let me see…” Dean began, taking out his phone again. He opened up Twitter once more, and searched for the hashtag he was looking for. What he found was just as overwhelming as it had been a minute ago, some of it embarrassing, some of it cute, some of it a little too much, and some people needed to get banned from Twitter. “‘At 5678, OMG, Dean and Cass are the cutest! Hashtag Destiel, hashtag season fifteen winners,’” Dean read. “Ha, she spelled your name like ass.”

“Let me see that.”

Castiel grabbed the phone from him, and Dean tried to reach for it, but his partner had already drawn it back. He was hurriedly reading, scrolling with his thumb.

“’Castiel needs to bone Dean, hashtag Destiel’? ‘Cas and Dean equals hashtag Destiel’. ‘Hashtag Destiel for season fifteen winners’ ‘Hashtag Destiel…’ ‘Hashtag Destiel…’ ‘Hashtag Destiel…’ ‘Hashtag season fifteen winners. They do know there can only be one winner, right?”

Dean took his phone back, mouthed, thank you, rather pointedly, and scrolled to one of the Tweets he’d seen earlier, and then showed it to Cas.

He read: “’Hashtag Destiel, pull a hashtag Katniss and Peeta, hashtag Season fifteen winners.’ How would that even work?” he asked.

Dean shrugged, turning his phone around.

“Point is, they want us to go all Hunger Games, so I don’t think I’m getting voted off anytime soon.”

“But we’ve literally just started the show,” Castiel pointed out.

“I don’t know, Cas, people are crazy.”

To Dean’s surprise a small smile alit Cas’ face.

“What? What is it?”

“On Twitter,” he began to explain, “when they call me Cas I hate it, but when you say it… I really like it.”

For the first time in awhile, Dean had no response to that, and he lowered his face to try and hide his blush, especially since he was sure he could feel Castiel’s inquisitive eyes on him.

“Dean, are you sure you don’t want help tonight?”

“I just… when I joined I told myself I could do it all on my own, you know? And now I’m finding out that that ain’t so easy. Hell, you’re not so easy.” Castiel’s eyes were wide when Dean looked up, maybe slightly scandalized, and he realized his mistake. With a laugh that pushed aside some of his insecurities for the moment, he went on, “No, no, not like that. I’m keeping it PG here. For now.” He winked at the last words jokingly, before going on, “But seriously, I want to be your roommate, and your partner, and do the best I can, but… asking for help, especially from the guy who I thought didn’t like me at first—”

“I didn’t.”

“Great, yeah, that helps.”

“But I do now. Very much so.”

“Look, I’m just not used to asking for help. I always had to do everything on my, especially with looking out for my little brother. The partnering thing that we’re being asked to do, that’s new for me.”

Castiel’s hand reached out across the table, and for a moment Dean just stared dumbly at it. What, did he expect them to hold hands?

Cas cleared his throat after an awkward silence, and pulled his hand back.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”

“Yeah, he’ll be starting his sophomore year in high school soon. Kid has barely hit his growth spurt yet. Growing up, I… I was the one really looking out for him. And I guess I really want to win so I could give him that prize money, make his life better.”

“That’s a beautiful reason for winning, Dean.”

“Eh, maybe the other one isn’t so beautiful. I also just want to prove to myself that I can do what I want to do, that I don’t have to be like…” He trailed off, realizing where this conversation was going.

“Like?” Castiel prompted.

Dean shook his head. “Never mind. Look, you done with your burger? Maybe… Maybe I could use a partner tonight.”

The warm smile that Cas gave him had affection Dean wasn’t used to blooming in his chest. “Of course, Dean.”

~~~

After paying they headed back to their room to grab their stuff, and then they went to the studio. A few of the other contestants were there, including Benny who was a jazz dancer, and his roommate Zach, a tap-dancer (Dean couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough at that). Zach’s partner Rowena, the ballerina was there as well. All of them were so focused that Dean and Cas didn’t bother saying hi. They just got their own room and set to work.

It was a bit easier to practice without the slight fear that cameras were going to show up at any minute to film some clips for the next episode. Though, they’d already had their time in front of the cameras of course, and then there were the interviews. If Dean relaxed enough he really began to feel like a celebrity. Though despite how fun it could be he still found it easy to stick to his purpose. Win for Sammy, and maybe win for himself along the way.

“Okay, okay…” Castiel called, grabbing Dean’s hips to stop him. “No, just… move with my hands. We can start slow.”

Focused, Dean did as Castiel said, letting his strong hands guide his hips left to right as they counted, and he paid attention to how far out he made them go.

“Good, so bring it up to the tempo, and keep it just like that.”

Feeling what he was supposed to be doing instead of just being told or shown really helped, and Dean found that he was soon really getting it.

They danced till they had the song beating in their blood, till they were sweating, and their bodies were sore.

While they sat on the floor, taking a water break, Dean pat Cas on the thigh, delighted and exuberant from their practice session so far. And it was good to have a partner who he knew had his back.

“You’re really good,” Castiel said. “I think what you want to do for your brother, it’s a really good thing, but you shouldn’t forget yourself.”

Dean slowly put his water bottle down, and found himself meeting his eyes, unable to tear his gaze away. Some kind of odd feeling was fluttering in his stomach, and he felt warm all over, and not just from the workout.

“This kind of show, you don’t just audition because you want money. You want to go through the experience, and really feel what it’s like to be a professional dancer, to do what you love. I can tell this is what you love. So don’t forget that.”

“Wow, Cas, uh… Wow.”

“What?”

“You can get pretty deep and sentimental, is all.”

“Perhaps one of us has to.”

“Or… or both of us could,” Dean ventured. Castiel was silent now, his full attention on Dean, not even drinking from his water bottle. “I do want this for myself. I do. And the reason is… well, my dad—he never went easy on me. Ever. I’m not sure he even likes me. It… it makes it difficult for me to like myself. I just want to show myself that I don’t have to be like him, that I can do something I enjoy and feel good about. I want to feel good about myself, Cas. But it’s hard, you know? It’s really, really hard. But when I dance, I forget all of that, even for those few minutes I’m up on stage.”

Castiel leaned his head back against the wall. “Sometimes I think I’m just doing this to make my dad proud, or to make myself useful to the family.”

“What was that you said about not forgetting yourself?”

Cas cracked a grin, and gave a gentle laugh, despite the pain etched onto his face.

“Wow, we’re both kind of a mess, aren’t we?”

Dean stood, and held out his hand, “I think that’s the best part.”

Castiel reached up for Dean, even that movement so graceful. When Dean pulled him up, Castiel surprised him by saying, “Hey, I’m a little sick of this dance for now. How about you show me some contemporary?”

“We really should work on ballroom.”

“We have the rest of the week. I know we’ll get it.”

Feeling excitement beginning to bloom in his chest, anticipation ready to burst, Dean went to get a song up. And he kept that feeling inside himself, willing it to spread to all his limbs. He would use that, use what he felt to put it into his body. With his body he could say things he never knew how to put into words.

A slight blush crept onto Dean’s face when the first line started, SYML singing, “Darling, please, take my hand.” With his hand held out, Castiel took it.

Castiel had done some training in contemporary, and he picked up the lesson easily. Before long, Dean was admiring Cas’ extensions even while he did his own work, and then they’d come together again, or push each other apart as the song dictated. They held each other, touched each other, all of Dean’s body understanding what all of Cas’ body was saying, and he was sure it was vice versa.

Time slowed, even as it rushed by in heated motions and achingly precise movements. The song became everything to Dean, and when Cas fumbled, he was right there to pull him close, or to come up from behind him, and hold out his arm or his leg for him, positioning it with the tempo.

When the next song began they still danced in Dean’s style, Cas clearly enjoying it, figuring things out as he went along. The next song was “Can’t Pretend” by Tom Odell, and when the chorus hit Dean was surprised to see Castiel positioned to beckon Dean into a controlled leap that Castiel would carry him through.

Dean wasn’t even nervous that they’d never done lifts before, even though it’d been something that had been itching at the back of his mind earlier in the day. Towards the end of the lift Cas’ arms shook, and he fumbled it, and Dean went down. He laughed, pulling Cas with him. Cas landed on top of him, his face so close to Dean’s as they laughed.

“Oh, feel our bodies grow / And our souls they play / Yeah, love, I hope you know / How much my heart depends / But I guess that’s love, I can’t pretend / I can’t pretend, oh…”

Feeling the music, the moment, laughing as he was trapped on the floor beneath Castiel, his body already starting to throb a bit from the fall, he kissed him.

And Cas kissed back.

“I guess that’s love, I can’t pretend / I can’t pretend, oh.”

For that moment, winning didn’t matter. Only what Dean wanted right here, and right now did, what Cas wanted, the music, the welcoming exhaustion in his muscles, the sweat glistening on their skin. For that moment, Dean was glad to have Cas as his partner. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#au_gust #au_gust_2021 #spn #supernatural #destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #tw: implied/referenced child abuse #tw: undiagnosed eating disorder #tw: homophobic slur #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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thejustmaiden · 4 years

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Heyo, fellow Inuyasha fans! Happy Friday! This particular blog will serve as a collection of random thoughts I’ve been mulling over lately. Hope you’ll consider giving it a read. By the way, it’ll specifically pertain to the Sessrin ship. If that’s not something that is of interest to you, then no need to read any further. Whatever happens, I wanted to get this out before the sequel. Alrighty, let’s go!

I’m not sure many of us realize just how much fiction sparks public dialogue and shapes culture. There have been countless studies and research done to prove it, therefore this really isn’t up for debate. What the real question here should be is have we taken the time to fully contemplate and assess just how much fictional experiences are able to change or influence our perspective on real, everyday life? The visual arts are just one of many evolutionary adaptations that serve to give us more insight into one another’s mind. If our outlook on fiction contrasts with said insight, then perhaps some re-evaluating is in order.

Powerful works of literature such as 1984 and the beloved Harry Potter series are just two examples. George Orwell’s book contributed strongly to how readers viewed government and politics during that time, and to this day it’s a book that resonates with many. As much as Harry Potter is cherished all across the world, there are religious and academic institutions that condemn it or have even gone so far as to ban it. I may not agree with the extreme measures taken, but it’s fascinating nonetheless to witness the extent to which fiction can move and mobilize people for a cause.

The takeaway is that indicating fiction doesn’t have the power to create change in our everyday lives is misleading to say the least. So how exactly then can fictional stories that are, after all, completely made up affect society in such profound ways? It all lies in the power of the psychology of fiction. According to cognitive psychologist and novelist, Keith Oatley, who’s been researching the psychological effects of fiction for over a decade, he states that engaging with stories about other people can improve empathy and theory of mind. When we identify with these characters’ struggles, we begin to share their frustration for societal problems that plague them. These types of stories tap into our emotions more so than- believe it or not- nonfiction, and thus their effects inspire us and even have the ability to alter our worldviews.

I’ll be returning to that specific topic a bit later, but moving on for now!

It’s safe to say that I speak on behalf of the majority of antis. That being said, I first want to add that we are aware that sessrin shippers claim to agree that there was nothing inherently romantic that took place between Rin and Sesshomaru during their travels together. The thing is we have trouble believing you guys when you time and time again provide contradictory statements to defend your stance.

Voicing things like, “all signs point to Rin” and “it’s been foreshadowed” sends the exact opposite message of what you supposedly stand for and, if anything, confirms that you’ve had romance on your mind long before it would’ve been acceptable to come out with openly. You can’t just go along with what we say when it’s convenient to your argument and then back it up later with “who else but Rin.” How can the relationship you’re imagining be so obvious if they didn’t hint at it for the whole duration of the original series like we agreed upon? Elaborate on how we could’ve possibly come to such wildly different conclusions when we started AND left off with the same views for and throughout the series.

On top of that, making the excuse that we don’t speak for adult!Rin and that she has the right to make her own decisions once she’s old enough is a weak defense. Firstly, because we haven’t even met her. Secondly, because it’s unfair of you to assert that you know what’s best for Rin and then say we’re not allowed to just because it doesn’t align with your beliefs. I get that you feel protective over her character, but do recall that this adult version of her none of us have actually met yet. We have no idea what kind of woman she’s become, what her dreams or aspirations may be, and whether she’s married or even wants to be. I’m not against the idea of her falling in love, I just don’t think it’ll be with Sesshomaru. I guess I’m also a fan of the idea of her following in Kaede’s footsteps, because if anyone can grow up to be an independent, trusted, and wise leader of the community like her it’s Rin.

To make matters worse, way too many of you continue to celebrate the drama cd and profess that it was sweet that Sesshomaru basically promised he’d wait for Rin all while somehow ignoring the glaring grooming implications. Why do you only see what you want to see and fail to acknowledge that actual child grooming scenarios do in fact play out like this in real life? A high percentage of people who have been victims of grooming can attest to this. If Sessrin does go canon, all the sequel succeeded in doing to avoid the direct correlation with grooming was skip over the more questionable and dodgy portions of it. Take out the time jump, however, and you no longer have a loophole to cover up the scary unmistakable truth, which is that Sessrin and grooming are essentially one in the same.

No one case is identical to another so please don’t come to me with your “but how is it grooming if Sesshomaru didn’t manipulate Rin” refutes. Nobody knows what the hell went on during those years between The Final Act and this upcoming sequel. Based on everything exhibited so far- that is if we decide to recognize the drama cd like so many of you choose to do- Sessrin’s dynamic is eerily reminiscent of real life child grooming. Why else do you think a lot of us fans have a huge problem with it? It’s triggering for a reason.

Let’s be honest, Sesshomaru’s supposed love confession could’ve just been the first of many gestures like it. Who really knows, right? According to you shippers, a major shift in their relationship took place sometime during this critical period none of us got to watch unfold. I’m sure you all have explored the various ways this would’ve gone down in fan fiction and through other creative means of expression. Not to spoil the fun, but all I can’t help but wonder about is just how many of those supposed “cute moments” would’ve been as creepy and cringey as that proposal. Hundreds of thousands (possibly millions?!) of fans would undoubtedly agree with me, too. It seems to me this ain’t due to a mere difference of opinion. Taste is one thing, ethics a whole other.

By the way, in case you didn’t know, groomers don’t necessarily need to plan out every single move in order for their behavior to constitute as grooming. What we should be paying attention to instead is the fact that Sesshomaru made a conscious decision to act on his own selfish desire for a young girl who couldn’t have possibly known in that moment the magnitude of what he was asking of her. Why is it that a vulnerable Rin is put in a position that forces her to be the one responsible for making such a big, life-changing decision for the both of them? Yes, Sesshomaru gave her the choice and, yes, she doesn’t have to make it till later, but why on Earth is he coming to her with this well before a child her age is ready and mature enough to handle it? Even if his intentions are good (broadly speaking of course), his what you shippers probably call “innocent acts” are incidentally coercing Rin into reciprocating his feelings. Whether he planned for that or not, he’s at fault. Period.

That’s one way the power imbalance works. A child wants nothing more than to please the adult they look up to and adore, because they’re impressionable like that. Maybe Rin processes this like she’ll want whatever he wants, so that’s what she trains herself to believe- either right then and there or over time. Plus, if you really think about it, why wouldn’t she trust him if in her eyes he’s been nothing but good to her and that’s all she’s ever really known? (Psst! Charm is integral to the manipulative nature of grooming so it’s deceiving AKA manipulation can come off as praise or flattery.) Bottom line is that Rin is too young to have to think about this kind of deep stuff at all, and Sesshomaru shouldn’t have taken advantage of the power he had/has over her to influence a decision she was by no means prepared to hear about much less decide on. Your headcanons seem to imply that she’ll eventually have to choose though, and Idk about you but I rather not push my own fantasy agenda onto a underage girl regardless of how much I want it. Idc if she’s fictional, it wouldn’t feel right so why would I want to see that? My principals couldn’t ever allow for it.

Even if it wasn’t an official proposal, per se, it’s still disturbing to me that so many of you find joy in the thought of a grown adult male essentially waiting for a young girl HE KNEW to become old enough before pursuing her. I know this drama cd ain’t technically canon, y'all, but since this is literally the only source we have that may foreshadow a potential Sessrin to come, and it’s referenced a lot, I figured it still should be called out for exactly what it is- Grooming: 101!!!!

Just as I demonstrated above, fiction has the ability to make even the most inappropriate and uncomfortable situations be viewed in a favorable light when you put the right spin on it. *cough* Lolicon culture, need I say more? *cough* Despite what you may believe, the strategies fiction utilizes to explain themes/concepts can genuinely lead to how we perceive them, and ultimately to how we come to make sense of a similar event presented to us in real life. Especially if we have no prior experience with any of it and have nothing to compare something to, these perceptions can be dangerous yet still persuasive to certain fans- young ones in particular. The more narrative consistency across stories and different mediums, the more likely they’ll influence social beliefs. Minors don’t possess the same capacity as adults to think critically about the content they consume, and if we aren’t more careful about what we put out there then all of us will continue to face serious repercussions.

This is precisely why it’s crucial we persist in our fight against the rabid phenomenon of glorifying young girls in every sexual context imaginable. Just look at what something as seemingly harmless as fiction has the power to do. The scope of fiction is broad and far-reaching, and it’s about time we stop denying that fact and actually do something about it if we have the means to.

The truth of the matter is that we’re in desperate need of proper education and training programs on this issue in our communities. Families need to ensure their children have access to the necessary resources, but it isn’t just on them. ALL of us gotta do our part and ALL of us should be up for the task. It takes a village, right? If we do not properly discuss and address child sexual abuse (CSA) with our children and in public forums, including the internet, then we’re ultimately accepting incidents of CSA should they arise. Consequently, that also translates to indirectly accepting that the predators among us stay untreated and/or unpunished. That’s how the generational and societal aspect of the abuse can continue, and we must do everything in our power to secure our children’s future. Yes, even when it comes to fiction.

If you still somehow don’t think the Sessrin pairing has anything to do with grooming, allow me to break this down for you one more time:

1. If some of your fellow sessrin shippers say that a relationship like this in real life is harmful, then that should be pretty telling in and of itself.

2. Piggybacking off #1: if your only defense to that is “well it’s just fiction,” then you should ask yourself why you can’t ever come up with better reasons. Same goes for history and culture, so please stop using those to justify this relationship. None of the above can or should be applied since it’s already been established that fiction pervades our lives and vice versa.

3. If fellow shippers who are victims of grooming say they are drawn to Sessrin because it allows them in a way to “take back control” from their abuser so that they can better cope with past traumas, then they’re inadvertently admitting that Sessrin does possess qualities associated with the past child sexual abuse they underwent. AKA Sessrin is relatable for its abusive dynamic.

I have to ask by the way, but why do you get so offended when we don’t support your ship anyway? Is it because we interpret it to be controversial and you don’t like your ship getting a bad rap? Is it because it would be insulting to admit that antis actually have a point in it being problematic and you rather double down instead? Or is it because you’re projecting yourself onto Rin and prefer to not go into detail about why that is? Maybe it’s too personal, or maybe it’s because deep down you’re ashamed. Of course that doesn’t mean you’re bad people, but suppressing these kind of negative emotions can’t be healthy for anyone. A little awareness and self-reflection on your part can benefit not just you but all of us in the long run. Cognitive dissonance can suck, but it’s also part of being human.

I recently came across a comment I’d like to share with you. Unfortunately, this is not the first time nor will it be the last I see the likes of it. Anyway, in it a fan stated how embarrassing it must be being an Anti in this fandom when an episode like “Forever with Lord Sesshomaru” exists. Guys, this shipper and all those who liked their post are showing their true colors. Perpetuating and/or anticipating these sexualized images of young girls is a grave issue in both our society and media alike. I think we can all agree on that, or at least I hope so. It’s remarks like these that prove we still got a long way to go in terms of progress, and if we ever hope to effectively reverse some of our backwards way of thinking. So serious question for ya in regard to this: Why is it too much to ask that grooming be portrayed for what it is? Grooming. To clarify, grooming is bad and needs to be painted in a bad light. It’s as simple as that. If only we could all acknowledge it for what it is, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Historical accuracy and cultural differences aside, it appears the crux of the matter between Sessrin shippers and Antis is our acceptance and/or denial of fiction’s influence on real life. If we can’t agree on this, then we’ll never agree on anything else. As mentioned earlier, there is more than enough evidence to support the idea that fiction impacts our lives in extraordinary ways. I, for one, believe in the transformative power of stories. I think they do more for us than many of us give them credit for and/or are inclined to admit.

This is partially why I believe that the majority of sessrin folk are missing the point most of the time. All they do is focus on insignificant and irrelevant information that accomplishes nothing but more gaslighting and strawmanning. Whether it be an intentional or unconscious decision, whatever we argue goes right over their head. All they do is throw around deflections and antagonizing remarks that serve no real purpose other than to make Antis out to be the unreasonable and irrational ones. Making connections between our own lives and our stories is a completely natural and normal occurrence. If those particular shippers insist on denying just how interconnected real life and fiction both are, what that tells me is they’re either out of touch with reality or deliberately choose to be.

Just to be clear, I am of the opinion that most if not all antis aren’t real life predators. If they say they aren’t, I honestly take their word for it. Speaking to Sessrin shipper directly: We know it’s not Sesshomaru you want to be but Rin. No, we’re not calling you pedophiles or groomers. None of us think you are using a fictional ship to attract underage fans to be the Rin in your life or anything of the sort. We are well aware that many of you are self-inserting yourself as Rin, so please don’t feel the need to tell us yourself because that would be stating the obvious.

I learned from a few of you since this sequel was announced that the Sessrin relationship isn’t just a ship but an opportunity for you to confront the person who used and abused you. So there’s two issues with this I’d like to raise. (Sorry if I’m repeating myself, but it’s urgent I stress this again!) This is what I have to say:

If fiction does not affect real life or have the ability to normalize anything as you claim to believe, then why does “fixing” what happened to you via your preferred choice of coping associated with these two characters in the first place? Why bring your past abuse into this at all if at the end of the day it’s “just fiction” and nothing more to you but a source of entertainment?

By confessing that you use Sessrin to cope with your past trauma, you therein reveal that Sessrin does in fact resemble an adult-child relationship with a grooming dynamic. So why then would you want other fans to be exposed to a pairing that brings to mind the very abuse you endured? We’re supposed to stop this toxic cycle- NOT find more ways to manifest and relive it, much less subject other fans to it.

You may think that Sessrin doesn’t fit the textbook definition of what child grooming is, but that’s not to say it doesn’t embody it or that it doesn’t at the very least have traces of it that stand out.

“Antis are miserable people who don’t know how to enjoy a good story. It’s just fiction, stop ruining it for other fans!”

Well, no, it’s not just fiction or just a story. Some of you evidently went and proved that yourself, and without my help, by revealing how you relate Sessrin to your own life and apply it to cope with past abuse. Past abuse or not, as far as I can tell we’re all equally invested in these characters. That speaks volumes and just goes to show that fiction touches our lives in long-lasting ways.

I have something I want to say concerning some of who believe that it’s inconsiderate of antis who have been victims of grooming or another form of child abuse to tell other victims who ship Sessrin how they should cope with their trauma. Now as much as I respect the various means victims discover to deal with their painful pasts, there’s always an appropriate time and a place for these things to occur. We must seek out better ways to safely cope with the abuse we lived through (if any) without running the risk of hurting and endangering others.

There are plenty of fans in other fandoms who don’t try to defend their ships going canon, because they’re able to recognize an unhealthy or toxic pairing when they see one and won’t try to justify it. A Sessrin romance simply does not belong on a show geared towards teens, and I really don’t need to go into detail about why we shouldn’t support it, at least canon-wise. Shipping Sessrin is your right, but if you don’t keep it to yourself and your corner of the fandom then you really shouldn’t be surprised by the opposition. All we ask is you respect that their specific dynamic falls under the category of child grooming (or very close) and should be treated as such in public. The world of fiction may be wider than the world we live in, but that doesn’t always mean “anything goes.” In the creative spaces our minds occupy we must still adhere to the same fundamental and moral guidelines we live by in life. There’s nothing wrong with exploring new terrains and experimenting with ideas, but we must also remember that our stories are all about communicating and connecting with people. So let’s please be more mindful of the sort of messages they’re sending.

Besides, this isn’t only about you and what makes you feel safe, it’s about all of us. I don’t know how much more I can stress that really. How can thoughts endanger our children, you ask? Well, it’s not like we’re suggesting that our thoughts can jump out of our tvs, materialize themselves, and place kids under mind control. The forces behind fiction are a lot more complex and nuanced than a “monkey see, monkey do” approach, so don’t waste any more time trying to describe that to us. You’re taking this argument in the wrong direction.

Take the “violent video games breed killers” theory. I’m afraid you’re misconstruing what we’re saying and then taking it quite too literally. Please stop twisting our words, because nobody on our side is saying that just because you play violent video games that you’ll become a violent person. The Sessrin equivalent of that would be if you ship them then you must be a pedophile or turning into one. *sigh* I know you guys are feeling attacked, but I’m afraid your defensive nature is keeping you from thinking straight. Clearly, there are always exceptions (I’d recommend reading up on the Slender Man case), but Antis aren’t saying you’re one of them.

You see, it’s not so much about the content as it is the notion of the content. Kids and teens who are playing these video games have been informed that killing is wrong, because they grew up learning that early on like the rest of us. No sane person would advocate for violence and nonsensical killing in real life. Since they fully understand the severity of the consequences of killing a person in real life, they are able make a clear distinction between the two. When it comes to killing there is hardly any ambiguity. Sadly, that is far from the truth when it comes to sexualizing girls. It should immediately be perceived as wrong leaving no room for interpretation, and yet here we are still putting up with these inaccurate and demeaning female representations.

Most children who have been groomed don’t realize it till years down the road. If they aren’t ever taught the telltale signs to properly labeling grooming situations, how do you expect them to make sense of and relate to a fictional version? Let’s think of about it from a child’s perspective. Yes, this includes teens who rely pretty heavily on adult guidance and the content we put out there for them. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment and picture that you’ve never had child grooming explained to you (because that’s just the reality for so many unfortunately). Wouldn’t you say it’s possible for them to deduce that what they see on their screens is how they come to discern something in real life, especially if they have little to no experience with it? Perceived realism is plausible, y'all.

What it comes down to in the end is that the ideas and emotions we cultivate behind these stories leave an impression on others. Impressions are capable of influencing the way we see the world, which in turn affects us and beyond just our imagination. The way I look at it, stories contribute to how and why we normalize certain beliefs and trends. If fiction reflects real life like most of us tend to agree, then wouldn’t you say Sessrin is a (in)direct result of this world’s tendency to place young girls in overly sexual or romantic environments? Where do you think fiction draws its inspiration from? Sure, some of it originates from our imagination, but most of what drives us to create these stories is the real world and the people who live in it.

Fiction is meant to mirror reality, but it’s ridiculous to suggest that it’s only a one-way street. That fiction in no way, shape, or form influences our reality? Or that it only works the other way around? With all due respect, that’s simply not true. No productive discourse can be had if we choose to ignore the truth and don’t come together (at least halfway) to tackle the real issues at hand.

Okay, I think I’ll leave it off there! Thanks so much for reading. I expect this to be my last blog on any topic regarding Inuyasha in the near future. As much as I’ve looked forward to answering all of your asks and writing all the blogs I have over these past almost 5 months, I think it’s best if I spend some time away for now. With the sequel fast approaching, I’m doing what I always do: hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I’ve met some amazing people along the way, that’s for sure. And who knows, maybe you’ll see me active in the tags sooner than we think. Until then, it’s been an absolute pleasure! Enjoy the sequel, all of you. 💜

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #anti sessrin #it's been real y'all #catch ya on the flipside #(which I hope is in a promising sequel 🤞)

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