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crystalbahamut · 3 years

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victory in stages

FFXIV Write Day 10: heady

Summary: You’re used to being liked because you’re useful, but it’s harder to believe someone likes you for…well…you, and you’re not brave enough to ask. Luckily, you have a plan to get around that. A stupid plan, perhaps, but a plan.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, they/them used for WoL, WoL has low self-esteem, such low self-esteem they have to get knocked about the head, literally, mild violence, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 3,363

---

Purging the remnants of the Lightwardens from you would have been enough to make you feel weightless but combined with the defeat of Emet-Selch, the fact that you had gone into a fight and come out with no causalities, the fact that G’raha Tia had stood in front of you, hurt but so gloriously awake and alive…

You were so overwhelmed by gratitude, by things going so right for once and so drunk on the heady feeling of absolute victory you had surged forward and grabbed G’raha in your arms and squeezed. He had gasped and hugged back, stammering your name…

…But now, a couple of days removed from it, you’re wondering if you hadn't just…startled him.

“Did you travel back to the Source without telling us?”

You jolt up, taking your chin from your hand and sitting back to face Alisaie and Y’shtola, who look unamused and amused, respectively. “Sorry,” you say. “What were you saying?”

Alisaie rolls her eyes and looks askance at Y’shtola. “It’s probably a good thing we made them sit with their back to the Crystal Tower or we’d never catch their attention again.”

You frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” But Y’shtola smiles into her cup as she merely holds it to her lips. “You seem to be very deep in thought, is all. One has to wonder what has caught your mind so thoroughly.” Her smile widens. “Or who.”

You duck your head between your shoulders at the insinuation. “Oh, it’s not…”

“Please, you’ve been asking after the Exarch ever since we got back from the Tempest,” Alisaie says. “Haven’t you gotten tired of his company even a little?”

“I haven’t seen him since we came back.”

Both Y’shtola and Alisaie lose the teasing edge and sit forward. “What?” Alisaie asks in disbelief.

You shrug, very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. There must still be some sin eaters around somewhere that need killing, right? That seems like more fun than being subjected to Y’shtola’s and Alisaie’s very special brands of tough love. “He’s still the Exarch helping run an entire city, and I’m just…what he needed me for is done. There’s no reason for him to want to see me.”

“Did he say that?!” Alisaie asks and starts to rise.

“Oh I severely doubt it.” Y’shtola grabs Alisaie’s sleeve and pulls her back down into her seat. “You know our friend and their insecurities.”

“Hmf.” Alisaie crosses her arms but looks less murderous, at least. “Honestly, I thought that would all be assuaged by that show of affection in the Tempest. I didn’t know a hug could be so fraught and romantic.”

“I think I just surprised him.” You stare down at your cup. The tea is likely lukewarm but you don’t pour more; you doubt you’ll drink it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him, to ask him if–…Back when we first explored the Crystal Tower, I thought maybe he might…but then he locked himself away, and that answered that. But before we went to fight Vauthry he said some things that implied maybe he…might feel something for me, but I haven’t asked him about it since, and…”

You look up and jerk back. Alisaie and Y’shtola are both just staring at you. You feel like crawling under a rock for the rest of your miserable life. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you say and hide your face in your hands. “Gods; please forget I brought it up.”

“The Exarch spent a hundred years trying to prevent your death,” Alisaie says, speaking slowly. “Nearly sacrificed his own life to do so, calls you things like his ‘inspiration’ with sickening amounts of adoration, looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you don’t think he’s madly in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he likes me romantically.” You duck down into your shoulders again. “Just because other people think I’m a hero that needs to go on living doesn’t mean there’s any deeper attachment to it. Stories can inspire, but at the end of the day they’re just that– stories.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace. It’s not even lukewarm anymore. “Also, the stars thing…technically I did bring back the night.” You put the cup down. “But I was supposed to do that. Now that I’m not useful anymore–”

“Warrior!” one of Lyna’s soldiers says, nearly breathless as she rushes up. “The captain bid me give a message to you.”

“What is it?” you say and stand.

“There’s been sightings of sin eaters accumulating over by Sullen; they seem to be disorganized and frenzied– likely starving and desperate– but there’s a similar issue by the Ostall Imperative that has most of the soldiers occupied; they won’t get to the settlement in time. Please, will you–”

“Understood.” You grab your weapon and relief surges through you– it’s terrible, probably, considering the danger people are in, but at least you can still be considered useful. “I’ll head out to Sullen right away.”

“Wait for me!” Alisaie says, leaping after you and you hear Y’shtola and the soldier talk about grabbing Thancred and the rest of them just before the two of you run off.

---

There is nothing quite like a successful battle, you think as you trudge back into the Crystarium with Alisaie emanating the same sense of relief behind you. Your blood is raging and your mind is clear; you feel like you can fight a primal. Maybe two primals. You feel like–

“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely.”

You stop so suddenly Alisaie bumps into you. She curses but you don’t really listen to what she’s saying. How can you, when G’raha is standing right there, looking so radiantly healthy and smiling at you like he truly is grateful to see you.

“Coming to see us back? I hope you weren’t worried,” you tease, and are rewarded by a slight flush of his cheeks.

Thancred mutters something too low for you to hear and that’s probably for the best, as Alphinaud chokes.

“Yes, well.” G’raha clears his throat and smiles. “‘Tis always a pleasure to see you all return safely.”

“And here I thought I might be special,” you say, with absolutely no acrimony.

Alas, G’raha doesn’t blush, but there is a rather fetching mischievous sheen to his expression when he says, “There was never any doubt of that.”

You swallow hard. Is he flirting? Does he mean it like you want him to? You almost mean to continue– to see how far he’ll let you go– but apparently the healers have been warned of your coming because a few of them come to escort you to Spagyrics, and as you sit for healing and bandaging and whatever else, the adrenaline settles and you start to second-guess everything again.

“You see?” Alisaie says pointedly. “He was waiting for you.”

“He was waiting for all of us,” you say and sigh. “And I was…was I inappropriate? I don’t think so, but…”

“By the Twelve, you can’t be serious,” Thancred groans. “You were so brave not half a bell earlier, I thought you were making real headway.”

“I always feel braver after a battle. It’s…” You try to think about it. “I guess after fighting for my life everything else just seems easier.”

“Would that we could bottle that bravery for you,” Thancred huffs and stands, shifting his shoulder and thanking the healer.

You sigh. “If I had a gil for every time I thought–” Wait a moment. You can’t bottle it…but you can try to manipulate it. All you have to do is talk to G’raha immediately following a fight. And that isn’t a difficult thing to do– leatherworkers need Smilodon skins, Hoptraps breed like crazy…

Alphinaud says your name as if cautious. “What are you thinking?”

“If I’m not brave enough to talk to G’raha normally, I can make myself brave enough to talk to G’raha,” you say and punch your fist.

“Excellent work, Thancred,” Alisaie says sharply.

“Y’shtola is going to kill me,” he groans in reply.

“No; this is a great idea,” you insist, because it is. “I fight things all the time and I’m still alive! This is perfect; it’s just a little adrenaline rush, nothing big.”

“Y’shtola is going to kill you,” Alphinaud sighs and Thancred nearly whimpers.

You are going to prove them all wrong and find out once and for all what G’raha truly thinks of you.

Win-win.

---

So your first fight does…not quite go according to plan. You found a strange looking horse while traveling through Lakeland and tried to get a better look at it, only to be immediately kicked back by hooves and knocked out. At least the sun is still out when you wake up again, but when you try to get up your ribs are definitely badly bruised, if not mildly broken. You use what healing magics you have to patch yourself back up and carry on your way. You try not to be grateful that you can’t find the horse again.

You find a botanist in a spot of trouble and help him by gathering lumber amongst a gaggle of angry triffids. It’s perfect– you get knocked around a little bit but dodging branches and putting down angry trees is surprisingly challenging and gets your blood flowing. And you help someone. A win-win indeed.

You try to clean yourself up just a little bit and head straight for the Ocular, only to be stopped by the guard.

“So sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now; no interruptions,” the man says regretfully.

“Oh, of course!” It makes sense; G’raha is still The Crystal Exarch, leading a city, doing so many important things…

The rush fades quickly and you head back to your room in defeat. G’raha comes by later, looking so sorry when he apologizes for missing you earlier, but you do your best to wave him off.

“It wasn’t that important,” you say and thankfully a yawn overtakes you.

“I’ll not trouble you any longer, then,” he says and steps back, bids you goodnight.

You watch him leave, thinking about calling him back with every step, and yet he turns a corner without a word from you.

You sigh, but it’s only day one. Tomorrow will be better.

---

Tomorrow is not better.

Neither is the day after that.

You are a capable fighter, truly– sometimes you think it’s all you’re truly good for, being thrown at violence like a martially adept doll– but you just keep having problems. Most of them are scheduling conflicts, as G’raha is still an important man and you still have responsibilities of your own, but the healers are proving far too troublesome as they seem to intercept you ninety-percent of the time. You sourly wonder if they have a magic mirror they can watch the world in as you trundle back to your room late one night.

Or perhaps they have informants.

The next day you take a little break. Or so you tell everyone. Y’shtola seems quizzical (you wonder if no one told her about this plan of yours) and your other friends seem relieved. Especially Thancred.

“I’m just doing a little delivery job this morning,” you tell them. “No fighting; since I’m carrying goods I’ll be avoiding confrontation. I’ll be back tonight.”

Sure enough, when you get back from your delivery you spy a healer watching as you come through the main plaza, and when she sees that you’re well she goes back to Spagyrics.

Snitches. Well you’re not so easily foiled– you go back to your room and then use the aetheryte at Fort Jobb to get back to Lakeland proper. The strange horse has been spotted and a few other hunters with Clan Nutsy are keen to take the job. With help, it shouldn’t take you long at all, and G’raha is almost never busy at this time of night. It’s perfect.

---

Up until you get knocked headfirst into a tree. That and the fact that it takes much longer than expected means you all but storm into the Crystarium later than expected, and feeling too foul to see G’raha. Sure, you can fight a primal, but with your mood you’d chew up and spit out a Lightwarden too, which is hardly conducive for a love confession.

But then there’s G’raha, calling your name before you get too far. “I was looking for you earlier; Urianger said you’d gone to your room but–” He jerks back when he sees you and his eyes widen in surprise, and concern, and so much care that your anger fizzles like an overloaded lamp. “What happened?”

“Bad luck,” you say and sigh. “And if I see a healer I might…do something I’ll regret. I’m sorry, G’raha, but maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh no; the blood on your face is worrisome enough, but the way you look makes me think you may have a concussion,” he says. “Pray, if you will not see a healer, would you allow me to care for you?”

There is a right answer, a wrong answer, and an inappropriately desperate answer, and your tongue twists on the latter. G’raha doesn’t wait for you to speak– he grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, and you become so focused on that (he’s holding your hand) you barely realize what’s going on before you’re in a room in the tower you’ve never seen before, where there’s a bed and a nightstand and…

Maybe you do have a concussion.

“Here,” he says and sits you on the bed. It’s a really nice bed.

“With as much as you do I’m surprised you ever sleep,” you say and feel over the soft top blanket while he prepares something or other for…something or other. Why are you here again? You try to shake your head and gasp in pain. Right. Concussion.

“Easy; no need to cause yourself more pain,” G’raha murmurs and sits next to you. He cleans your face as gently as he can and you try to hide how much you ache regardless. You feel a little clearer, a little more focused, and you try to remain that way. “And I don’t sleep much, but it looks like you’re picking up my bad habits, friend. You’ve been keeping so busy lately,” he says as he bandages the cut on your forehead. “I feel like every time I try to see you you’re out doing something or another.”

“I’m not…doing that much.” You swallow. “I’m just trying to be useful, and, well, fighting is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not all you’re good for.”

“It’s helpful,” you insist. “For me too. I needed to–…to…”

“To?” G’raha repeats and you wonder if maybe the concussion can take you now, because G’raha has always been the same when he gets one little piece of information– he hounds about it. Relentlessly.

You sigh. Heavily. If it gets too hard you’ll clam up, and he’ll be disappointed, and then where will you be. But G’raha says your name, and so you steel yourself to try. “I needed…to be brave,” you say and wince as he dabs at a cut on your hand. “I wanted…I wanted to talk to you.”

He slows his motions and then stops. “My friend,” he says gently; he’s always so gentle and sweet it makes you nearly sick with want. “What would make you so afraid to talk to me? After all we have been through together, surely you can tell me most anything?”

“It might be stupid. Presumptive,” you admit. “And I…I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin and tilt it up. You stare into crimson that somehow looks so adoring, but does he adore you as a savior…or a person? “My dear friend,” he says. “There is nothing in this world that can make me think less of you.”

Staring at him, you feel your heart pound like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you think– you can’t do this anymore. If you don’t find out you’ll go crazy; you have to know, whether it hurts or not. “G’raha, in Kholusia, before Vauthry– were you talking about me?” you say, trying to speak as fast as you can, before you lose your nerve. “Do you like me? Romantically?”

He stares at you. Dumbfounded.

Like he couldn’t possibly have predicted this.

You swallow a lump of tears and feel shame settle upon you heavier than the world itself. You look down to try and maintain some dignity. “F-forget I said anything; I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear–”

“I thought I was obvious.”

You blink. You lift your head and some of the nausea quells. G’raha is smiling softly at you and wringing the cloth in his hands, even though it’s nearly gone fully dry. “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says. “You seemed to shy away from me so I thought I would give you some time to figure out your feelings, for mine– mine have always been thus, ever since the first time I saw you again after you cleared the labyrinth and my heart swelled to see you safe.”

“Really? Even then?” you ask.

“Oh, most certainly.” It is adoration in his eyes as he slides his hand over your cheek and you lean into his touch. “How could you sound so disbelieving?”

“I’m just…me. I go where I’m needed and do as I’m told. If anybody else had the blessing they’d be twice the hero,” you say but you can’t help but slide your hand over his. “But you, G’raha, you’re strong and smart and kind and clever and you’ve always been so much more; are you sure you–”

He kisses you so suddenly he has to hold your shoulder to keep you from falling back. But it’s so good, you forget all about trying to talk some sense into him. He pulls back to pant for air and you try to stop the swimming of your head. You are not letting a concussion get in the way of this. “My friend– my love,” he corrects and it’s your heart that swells. “Anyone could have had the blessing and not been a tenth of what you are. If only you could see what I see.”

“I-I can try.” You know it gets tiring for people to have to listen to what you think about yourself sometimes– even your friends have gotten fed up on occasion– and you don’t want to drive him away. If he thinks you’re good enough for him, you can but try to be good enough for him– without getting knocked in the head again, you hope.

“Good,” he says simply and brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “However we will have to continue this when you no longer have a head injury.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say and try to lean in for at least one more kiss, but you wobble, and the next thing you know G’raha is laying you on the bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you often to make sure that concussion isn’t severe.” He squeezes your hand and smiles. “By morning you’ll take back everything you said, for how much you’ll want to murder me.”

You squeeze his hand and return his smile. “If I didn’t drown you in a puddle in the Shroud, I’m not going to be that cross with you now.”

You fall asleep to his laughter.

---

When morning comes it’s even brighter (in a good way) than it has ever been. You and G’raha have breakfast together, and hold hands, and when G’raha kisses you goodbye as you leave him to get some work done you practically float across the Crystarium to share the good news.

Your friends, touchingly, are very happy for you.

Y’shtola doesn’t even kill Thancred when she finds out what incited the whole thing.

(It’s a near thing though.)

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite prompt 10: heady #ffxiv fanfic #warrior of light #g'raha tia #wol x g’raha tia #wolexarch #wolgraha #romance #fluff

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cakesunflower · 4 years

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Fateful Commute [C.H.] One Shot

A/N: This was meant to be split up into 3 parts but it’s like 5.3k words long which, if you know me, is kinda short for me lmao dkjgndfjk so i just decided to put it all together. This idea kind of came to me at like 3 in the morning which is when i started writing it so like.....yeah enjoy hehe

#1: Silent Strangers

There was a man who always took the F train, same as her since she started her new job, without fail, and every time she saw him she wondered if it was possible to fall for someone from a distance. To never have said a word to them, to never have officially met them, but to just see them and deem it normal to feel a thrill run down your spine. She kept these thoughts to herself, feeling as though if she told her friends about the drop dead gorgeous man she saw on the same train every day when she was coming from and going to work and sometimes nearly missing her stop because she was too distracted by him, they would judge her.

So she kept her silent admiration as just that—silent.

She’d see him in the morning when she’d get on the train from Penn Station, always sitting with headphones in and with either a book to read or some kind of leather journal she’d see him write in, ring clad fingers always twirling a pen in between. He’d still be on the train when she got off at her stop on Rockefeller Center, and he’d be on it later in the evening, hopping off on a stop that came after Penn Station, since he’d still be on when she got off.

He was handsome which, admittedly, was the first thing that caught her attention. Dark brown hair comprised of short curls that brushed his ears and forehead, darker eyes that never left the book or journal he held, and full lips that were often victims of his thoughtfully chewing teeth. If he wasn’t chewing his lip, he was absently biting on the end of his pen, and there had been occasions where she’d caught him realize what he was doing, scrunching his face in exasperation as he eyed the end of the pen before going back to writing. It was those moments where she’d seen him be the most expressive. Otherwise, his features were delicately balanced in a neutral absentness, sharp eyes too busy tracking the words he was either reading or writing to focus on anything else.

Sometimes she’d sit with some distance between them on the opposite side of the train car, maybe towards the other end. Sometimes she’d end up sitting opposite of him, the music playing loudly through her earbuds to silence the echoing clanking of the subway car. Despite her attempts to look at the advertisements above his head or watch walls whiz by in the underground tunnels, her gaze would often travel back over to him, a magnet demanding her attention. That should be worrying, shouldn’t it? How every time they were on the subway together, he’s all she could look at, think of? She knew nothing about him and yet he occupied her thoughts more than her work to-do list.

On a Tuesday morning, there were significant delays in the subways, underground construction obstructing people’s commute to work. So the F train was packed to the brim, no places to sit and even fewer spaces to stand, but she couldn’t risk waiting for another train, so she pushed herself on.

Despite the air conditioning in the car, the packed bodies heightened the heat, and she mumbled soft excuse me’s to grasp a pole in the middle so her body didn’t jerk with the movement of the car. She found one nearby the door she would exit from, keeping her bag close to her body as she placed her hand right under a tattooed one. When the train started moving, she looked up, and the air rushed out of her lungs almost instantly.

Her handsome subway man shared the pole with her, his tall figure looming over hers, backpack on, headphones in and dark eyes staring blankly towards the window, paying no mind to the dozens of bodies packed around them. It was unlucky that they were crammed in such a tight space; she felt like she couldn’t quite breathe at their proximity, the closest they’d been, and she willed herself not to be such a pathetic mess. How could she let a total stranger have such an effect on her?

She did her best to keep her gaze away from, to look at the faces around her, except none were as gorgeous as the tall brunette standing right by her. They were so close—she could smell him. Faintly of cigarettes and old spice combined with a fresh musk that was a welcome change from the stale scent of the subway. God—he even smelled as good as he looked.

Despite herself, she chanced a glance up at him, catching the movement of his sharp jaw. He was chewing gum. One hand gripping the pole while the other remained buried in the front pocket of his hoodie. How was he not boiling in the heat of the train? She took notice of his relaxed expression, unbothered—almost bored. It was strange seeing him standing, no book or journal in sight, though she understood due to the packed circumstances of the train. She hadn’t realized how tall he was until she was standing next to him. Her heart was still drumming wildly in her chest.

Every time the train stopped at a station, she had to adjust where she stood, allowing for people to move off and on the train. She hated that she felt heat flood into her cheeks when she had to move in such a way that she was standing in front of him, hand still gripping the pole, to let people pass. Especially when he glanced down at her, taking a step to provide her with as much space as he could so she stood comfortably.

In doing so, however, he adjusted his grip on the pole, hand lowering slightly, enough for his skin to come in contact with hers. Her throat tightened at the sudden shock that coursed through her body at the touch, fighting to keep her eyes from widening as her gaze flashed to their hands. Had she imagined that feeling, conjured up by her damn near obsession with this guy? Was the universe playing tricks on her?

She glanced at him just as he moved his hand further up on the pole, his dark eyes locking with hers as one corner of his lips quirked into an apologetic smile as he mouthed, “Sorry.”

It was the smallest of smiles, barely even such, but it was so pretty.

She offered a shake of her head, forcing herself to push past her shock and mouth back, “It’s okay.”

Her stop came too quickly after that, and she clenched her teeth when the rough movement of the commuters all but jerked her body around, inhaling sharply as she pushed her way towards the exit to step onto the platform. She was a bit sad about not getting one last look at the subway stranger, but it was alright. She’d see him again later, hopefully.

She hadn’t noticed, though, that in the sharp movements of everyone around her, something valuable had slipped out of her bag in the train. It wasn’t until she was sitting at her desk at work, bag on her lap, did she realize with her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach that her planner was missing. She had left home with it, she knew. It was the one thing that kept her as organized as she was, kept track of every aspect of her life, even had pages where she’d write so many of her thoughts down. It made her feel like Katherine Heigl from 27 Dresses, but all jokes aside, that planner was her life. And it was gone.

#2: The 5:13.

It would be comical how frazzled she felt if it wasn’t leaving her on the verge of falling apart. She’d somehow, by some miracle, made it through the first half of the day getting whatever she could done. There had been many moments where she’d reach for her planner to try and see what else she had to do, only to sink in her chair when all she grabbed was empty air and her hand would touch the hard slab of her desk.

Her jaw had begun to ache from how tightly she’d clench it every now and then out of frustration, chastising herself for being so careless in losing something so important to her. The mere lack of her planner’s presence alone made her feel completely disorganized, which really spoke for her dependence on it, and now she’d need to buy another one and hope she wouldn’t be as irresponsible with it.

She tried to distract herself with paperwork—though, it was actually work that she had to get done—when her desk phone began ringing. It was the receptionist at the front desk in the lobby. “There’s someone here to see you,” Sylvie spoke into the phone. “Says he’s got something of yours.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, sitting up in her chair at that. She couldn’t imagine anyone who would come to visit her, but her curiosity piqued at the notion of this visitor having something of hers. Her heart jumped. Her planner? She’d written the address of her work on the front page, finding it safer to write down the building where there was security rather than her family home where she still lived in New Jersey.

Quickly, she got up and made her way out of the office floor and towards the lobby, reaching the receptionist’s desk and shooting Sylvie a quizzical look when she didn’t see anyone nearby. Sylvia met her gaze before nodding to somewhere behind her, and she turned around only to have her breath stolen from her for the second time that day.

Her—the, not her—subway stranger stood up from the cushioned bench he sat on as soon as his gaze met hers, and she stood, damn near frozen, as he made his way over to her. He wore his backpack with just one strap, allowing for it to swing forward to his chest as he unzipped it. His brown eyes met hers briefly before he dug his hand into the bag, and her eyes widened in both surprise and relief as he pulled out the familiar, beloved yellow and white planner.

“This is yours, I believe,” he said. And suddenly her excitement for the return of her planner was second to her momentary shock of hearing his voice. The tone of his voice was as low as it was quiet, a subtle drawl hinting towards an accent that wasn’t American. He held out the planner, a slight quirk in his lips. “I found the address on the front page, figured I’d return it.”

Her lips parted, mind running a mile a minute. The drumming in her heart returned as she looked up at him, his looming height not at all intimidating, and he patiently and expectantly returned her gaze. He didn’t quite look like the uninterested man she saw every day on the subway whose focus was only on the books he was reading, or the journal he was writing in. There was a pleasantness in his brown eyes, warm and inviting. The light pouring through the windows of the building seemed to reflect in his gaze as opposed to the dim lights of the subway they normally occupied.

“I—Thank you,” she finally kicked herself into saying, her voice breathy. She was vaguely aware of the few people milling around them, minding their own business. All she could look at was the man in front of her. Taking the planner from him, she briefly caught sight of the few silver and black rings he wore, noticed letters tattooed on his hands, wondering what they meant, wondered if he had any others. Hugging the book to her chest, she added with a grateful smile, “You honestly saved my life.”

He may have no idea how much she meant that. She could already feel some of her sanity come back—though, his presence in her building was already teasing that.

He was kind. She could tell by his act of actually showing up to her place of work to hand back what she had lost. He didn’t have to, he could’ve easily left her planner on the floor of the train where he probably found it. The fact that he didn’t warmed her heart. It made it pathetically easier to fall for this subway stranger.

He chuckled lowly, zipping his bag and wearing it properly, shoulders straightening as he peered down at her. “Yeah; I was gonna wait until I saw you on the train later but didn’t want to risk potentially missing you. Plus a book that thick, I figured it was important.”

She couldn’t help the way her eyes widened at his words, breath catching in her throat. Had he noticed her on the train, too, like she noticed him? Maybe not in the same manner as she did—it wasn’t a surprise she’d look for him every time she stepped into the car, always finding childish yet joyous relief when she realized they once again were in the same car every time. Still, if he knew there was a chance he would see her later on in their evening commute, then that meant he’d noticed her before, at least once, right?

Gathering her wits as quickly as she could, she smiled and said, “I really appreciate it. Thank you. . .”

She trailed off, an almost hopeful quirk of her eyebrows, and she watched as what she deemed as recognition flash across his face as he offered, “Calum.”

Calum. Subway stranger finally had a name and she had to stop herself from testing it on her own tongue just to see how it sounded. Still, she repeated, “Thank you, Calum.”

He nodded, lips pursing momentarily. “No problem,” he said, gripping the strap of his bag and taking a step back. Calum glanced towards the windows, squinting slightly against the bright beam of sunlight washing through, before looking back at her with a small smile. Much different than his usual uninterested expression she stole glances at. “I’ll see you on the 5:13,” he said before he departed towards the elevators.

She rolled her lips into her mouth, heart erratic. She wouldn’t assume that he was going to look for her, but his departing words still had her smile growing before she could fight it.

Later on that evening, when she stepped into a car of the F train, she immediately found a spot to sit against the wall and claimed it for herself with a huff. The train wasn’t as busy as it had been in the morning and so the air conditioning worked well to cool down her skin after waiting in the otherwise smoldering station. She let out a sigh of relief, eyes closing as she tilted her head back and enjoyed, for a moment, the coolness of the car.

As the train began moving, the clanking silenced by the music playing through her earbuds, she opened her eyes and looked straight ahead, only to find the handsome subway stranger—Calum, she now knew—looking right at her. He sat on the other side, backpack between his feet, and she straightened when he offered her a smile, like they were familiar.

And then, to her surprise, he stood up and crossed the short distance. She watched him, gaze never leaving his brown eyes, taking out one earbud as he gestured to the empty seat next to her and asked, “May I?”

Her lips parted before she nodded, bag in her lap as Calum took the seat to her right. In his hands is the familiar black journal she always saw him holding, a pen tucked into the spine. Even as he sat, he was taller than her, and her skin grew flustered as she wondered why he moved next to her, turning off her music.

“Do you think it’s odd we’ve been on the same subway car almost every day for the past two months?”

She looked at him once more, expression falling into one of surprise, her grip on her bag in her lap tightening at his question. Every day for the past two months. . . Did that mean he noticed, too? Noticed her? Her heart clenched in both excitement and nervousness; had he noticed the way she would stare at him? Was he creeped out? Shit, she never thought he caught her, always assumed he was too into what he was listening to or reading or writing to pick up on her stares.

Though, she figured, if someone was staring as heavily and intently at her the way she did him, she’d probably notice too. God, how embarrassing!

Desperately trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck and pooling into her cheeks, she let out a short, albeit nervous, laugh before responding, “A little bit, yeah.”

Odd, lucky—the sentiments were interchangeable.

Calum chuckled, chin lifting, and she caught a glimpse of a silver chain around his neck. It matched the bracelet peeking out from under the sleeve of his hoodie. “What about fate?” he asked, smooth voice musing as he tilted his head. “Do you believe in that?”

She looked at him, doing her best to keep her gaze on his eyes and not dare travel any lower. It wasn’t difficult. His intense brown eyes kept her trapped in place, though she would never try to escape, she realized. His question about fate stirred something in the pit of her stomach, fighting the tightness in her throat as she found herself returning, “Why do you ask?”

A small, boyish smile played on the corner of his lips, charming beyond belief. It really did take a moment for her to adjust to such a pretty sight, so used to seeing nothing but neutral, sometimes thoughtful, expressions on his face. “I’m thinkin’ you forgettin’ your planner was some kind of act of fate. Maybe the universe got tired of putting us on the same subway every day and us never doin’ anything about it.”

She gaped, lips parting yet no words coming out. He thought they were supposed to do something about it? She wanted to laugh out of incredulity. Was Calum telling her all those days spent admiring him from afar could’ve been spent maybe actually talking to him a lot sooner than today? Her head was spinning and there was only one stop left until she had to get off. Damn it.

Finding her voice, she cleared her throat lightly before asking, “If we were meant to do something about it, why didn’t you?”

“I was waiting on you,” Calum replied easily and her grip on her bag tightened. He let out a small laugh, deliciously raspy in sound. “Didn’t want you to think I was some kind of creep.”

At that, she let out a gentle laugh of her own, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “So it was okay if I looked like the creep?”

He grinned in response, a full on smile that was blinding and breathtaking all at once, softening sharp features and glimmering in his dark eyes. And despite her heart beating excitedly, she couldn’t help but note the otherwise calmness she felt. Talking to Calum seemed so easy, so effortless. Like she knew him enough to feel so comfortable. Maybe it was him, maybe it was her days admiring him silently from afar, or a combination of both. But she welcomed it.

His smile remained, genuine and sweet, voice hinting at an accent she craved hearing more of. “You could never.”

#3: Finding Home

The subway car lurched and she bumped backwards into Calum’s chest, left hand shooting out to grab the pole next to the seat to balance herself on her feet. But Calum was quick to react and used his right arm to drape around her collarbones, right hand gently grasping her shoulder to keep her in place. Her lips quirked up at his hard yet warm chest against her back, leaning into him and his touch as the car kept going at a speed that prompted inexperienced subway goers to lose their balance every now and again.

It was past midnight and the subway was filled with people, all of whom were leaving the Halsey concert she and Calum had just attended at the Barclays Center. For a moment, she closed her eyes, her heart finally calming down after attending one of the best shows of her life, skin still warm from all the jumping, throat dry with a satisfying burn due to screaming lyrics alongside the performer and thousands of people in the crowd.

The two of them had been looking forward to this concert for weeks after Calum managed to end up getting tickets, and she felt a content blanket fall over her as she stood in the train with him in the aftermath.

Over the buzz of the bustling passengers, she heard Calum murmur in her ear, “Tired?”

She hummed in response, offering a single nod, focus going to the thrill that shot down her spine at his warm breath fanning against her skin. This friendship was not one she had seen coming, but it had been nearly three months since Calum had returned her planner and they were still in each other’s lives. Three months of being friends, of getting to know one another, of going from strangers to anything but. Three months of her distant attraction to him growing into something so much more real and intense.

No longer was Calum the cute boy from the subway she saw every morning and every evening. The stranger who sat with a book or journal, lost in the world of words or the music he was listening to instead of showing an ounce of interest in the world around him. Now he was her friend, a close one at that. He was someone she had been as attracted to as a stranger could appropriately be to another. Months later, Calum had shown her parts of himself, his heart and mind, that deepened whatever physical attraction she had felt and allowed her to genuinely, truly, fall for the man she had come to know.

The more she knew him, the more she liked him.

She knew his coffee order and liked when he surprised her with her own on their morning commute. She knew he enjoyed watching documentaries of all kinds and liked when he told her about them to stimulate her own interest. She knew his love for dogs and liked when he invited her over just so she could play with Duke. She knew he never left his home without his beloved leather journal and she liked him for divulging in her the poems he wrote, taking her breath away with how passionately and beautifully he articulated himself.

Every day she was given a new reason to like him, to feel comfortable in his presence and safe next to him. Not knowing how he felt was all that was preventing her from letting him know how she felt, afraid of ruining something so good if he didn’t return her feelings. This friendship was a surprise, but it was one of her favorites. Still, she found herself wondering, hoping, if he was falling for her the way she had for him.

“My throat hurts,” she found herself saying, her voice a bit hoarse to emphasize her statement, head leaned back against Calum’s collarbones.

She felt him chuckle as much as she heard him, the sound tantalizing. “I know. I don’t think I’ve heard you scream so much.”

She couldn’t help but snort as she responded, “That’s what she said.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Calum muttered, the amused exasperation making her grin, biting her lower lip when she felt his mouth press to the top of her head. His familiar cologne enveloped her, and she reached her right hand up to grip his arm around her, not wanting him to let go.

Glancing at the watch he was wearing, she noticed that there were still a few minutes until they reached the 14thstreet station, which is where she and Calum would go their separate ways. He would get off to head home, and she would remain until she reached Herald Square before transferring trains to head to Lexington Avenue to her brother’s apartment, who’s offered for her to spend the night instead of being at Penn Station by herself to go back home.

“Y’know how before Halsey performed Bad At Love, she told everyone who was there with someone to kiss them?” Calum asked and her throat worked, hoping he hadn’t felt her still against him. She kept her gaze on the shoes of the people standing around them, all too busy with their own lives to notice them.

She tried to keep her tone light, remembering that particular moment too well. “Yeah, when you very sloppily kissed my cheek,” she returned, a teasing tint creeping into her voice as her lips curled into a smile. His kiss had taken her by surprise, his stubble tickling her skin as he gave her a playful and wet kiss. She had laughed, but her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest.

Had she just heard him swallow behind her? Was he nervous? With a slight breath, Calum quietly admitted, “I was overcompensating, I guess.”

She didn’t turn to look at him, despite feeling the desperate urge to do so. His arm was still around his, embrace still warm and welcoming. What did he mean? What was he talking about? Licking her lips briefly, she dared to ask, “For what?”

His hand was still on her shoulder and his thumb brushed against her skin, exposed by the tube top she chose to wore that night. An electric shiver coursed down the length of her spine when she felt Calum’s lips brush against her ear. “Not being able to actually kiss you.”

His confession shook her more than the rattling of the subway car, her eyes widening and heart stopping so her brain could efficiently process Calum’s words. He was quiet, giving her the time she needed to reject what he said if she wanted to—when in actuality, that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do.

Goosebumps raising on her skin, she turned in his embrace until she was facing him, their fronts pressed together as she peered up at the tall man. He was blonde now, curls short and soft, having dyed it some time back. She missed the dark hair, but she would be lying if she said the blonde didn’t work well on him. Too well. Exceptionally well.

But it was his eyes she was focused on right now. Dark brown eyes holding every bit of their intensity as he gazed down at her, trying to gauge her reaction, her skin heating up as he took in every inch of her face, gaze lingering on her lips. He was fine with her knowing he was staring. She was fine with him staring.

This—this is what she had been waiting for; some kind of sign that his interest in her was at the same level as hers was in him. And this was as big, loud, and bright of a sign as any, and it made it all the more difficult to fight the smile threatening to quirk at her lips. Wide and giddy and true.

She tilted her chin ever so slightly, eyes locking with his, fighting the excitement as she steadied her tone and said quietly, “Unless you have a problem with PDA, there’s nothing stopping you from kissing me now.”

Calum’s eyes flashed at her words, a dangerously exciting glint in them, and her words were all the incentive he needed before lowering his face to close the gap between them. Her eyes fell shut as she instantly returned the kiss, the feel of his soft lips and tickle of his stubble drumming her heart and shooting electricity through every nerve in her body as her hands gripped the lapels of his leather jacket. Calum kept her just as close, free hand cupping her cheek, the cool metal of his ring wonderfully startling against her heated skin.

Not even the other passengers nor the consistent rattling of the subway car pulled their attention from one another as she pressed into Calum as he remained leaning against the door. He kissed her like he’d wanted to do so for longer than she anticipated, and she wasn’t any less eager. Her heart was erratic, her stomach a new home for the fluttering butterflies, and her lips constantly craving to taste his now that she knew what they felt like. She would never get enough, she knew.

God. How long had she waited for this? How fucking funny that their first kiss was in a train similar to the one she’d first seen him on?

What had Calum said, all those months ago, about fate? This felt like it.

They pulled away just as the subway car began slowing down, signaling their approach to the 14th street station, yet her eyes remained closed and nose brushing against Calum as they caught their breaths. The night was ending too soon for her liking, knowing Calum would have to step off soon. She wasn’t quite ready to let go of him. Not after that kiss. Not after what just happened.

The car stopped but they hadn’t pulled away. The doors opposite of them—not the ones they were leaning against—slid open and she was aware of people shuffling on and off the train. Calum didn’t make a move to pull away and leave, and so she reluctantly did, opening her eyes to look up at him. Breathlessly, she said, “This is your stop.”

His brown eyes were on her, always on her. Calum’s gaze flickered past her towards the open door leading to the platform and he swiped his tongue across his lower lip. It only made her want to kiss him again. Looking back at her, he said, “I’ll drop you home. Take a train after.”

Her heart jumped to her throat as his hand went from her cheek to her hip. There were less people on the train than before, and the doors would close any second now. She wanted to spend more time with him before the night ended, of course, but she still found herself saying, “You’re gonna waste money, Cal.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shot her a look. His other arm reached up to hook around her neck, keeping her close once again. “Never a waste when it comes to you.”

This time, she didn’t fight the grin from spreading across her face, vaguely aware of the doors shutting behind them before the familiar ding sounded and the train started moving again. Calum easily mirrored her grin, tugging her close to press his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes and sank into his embrace, his heart a steady beat under her ear as he gave her a loving, comforting squeeze as the train rattled on.

She hadn’t really given the concept of fate much thought, but it wasn’t lost on her that the man who held her so close was one she’d see every day on the same train, who found something of hers on the floor of a train, and who had kissed her for the first time on a train. She smiled against his chest, arms tight around his waist, letting out a slow breath when Calum kissed the top of her head. The subway had only been a means of getting to work and getting home. Maybe fate played a part because it had so quickly become a way of finding home, too.

tags: @irwinkitten @softforcal @sweetcherrymike @loveroflrh @astroashtonio @meetashthere @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke

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lorei-writes · 3 years

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Match-Up #31

Hi I’m Ana and I’m new at this, if it’s wrong don’t do it. Sorry for my poor english and and I forgot the pet peeves

Ah, hello, Ana @a6r6o6k! I hope you’ll have plenty fun in the fandom :D And don’t worry, it’ll be all good. The match-making shall begin! >:3

*5 positive qualities: 📍I think I’m intelligent (but I don’t really know) 📍 I’m curious: so I like to know the why of the things 📍Loyal: even if I like to see and have other options I always want to keep with the same people 📍I like to help, I’m studying psychology to understand people and help them: if I can help being a psychologist GREAT, if I need to do something else it’s also GREAT. 📍I’m adventurous if I have the security

To begin with, let’s consider intelligence and curiosity together. As per usual in such situations, I’d dare look more so towards the rather intellectual suitors who could match such characteristics - perhaps leaning a bit more towards the encouraging ones, the ones who simply challenge the people around them to think more.

Nobunaga (+2) Mitsuhide (+2) Mitsunari (+1) Masamune (+1) Shingen (+2) Sasuke (+2)

Now, loyalty! Hmm... The way you describe it... I suppose it could be understood either as a sign of investing in relationships, even despite some differences... Although I do think some could take it as choosing to stay in relationship at the expense of your ideals. Let’s see how those two approaches balance out.

Nobunaga (+1) Mitsuhide (-1) Hideyoshi (+1) Mitsunari (+1) Ieyasu (-1) Masamune (-1) Kenshin (+1) Shingen (+1)

Ah, helping others! Oh love, with psychology... I mean, hm, how do I put it? Please, do not become a therapist for all of our Ikemen, because gash, that’s a real threat with how sad most of them is ;-; But, that aside, I think most suitors would understand the drive to help others very well... Although some perhaps a tiny bit more than others.

Hideyoshi (+1) Ieyasu (+1) Kenshin (+1) Shingen (+1)

Adventurous, if provided with enough support? Ha, that brings some suitors to mind! (I picked those who are less likely to suddenly prank their partner with something potentially dangerous, even if just for laughs).

Mitsuhide (+1) Masamune (+1) Kenshin (+1)

*5 negative qualities: 📍Picky eater (I can’t eat thing with certain textures like snails, or things very bitter or acid) 📍I’m very pessimistic, sometimes realistic but more pessimistic: I don’t have depression, but there is history of depression in my family. 📍Easily distracted: I have ADD (Attentive Deficit Disorder), so I have the concentration time spam of a fish, even e with the things I like, if I have to use all my attention I can, but if not usually I doing 5 things at the same time. 📍I very disorganised: I think it comes with the ADD but I don’t know 📍I don’t have the knowledge of the social clues, so I’m very talkative sometimes and very silent other times.

Picky eater? Oh, there should be some suitors who could either understand that, or who could try to remedy that... Although the latter option may come with a bit of a rocky start, haha.

Mitsuhide (+1) Hideyoshi (+1) Mitsunari (+1) Masamune (+1)

Hmm... So you say you tend to lean more so towards pessimism? I suppose suitors who would amplify that could be a bad choice... But perhaps those that have more of a soothing, grounding aura?

Mitsuhide (+1) Hideyoshi (-1) Mitsunari (+1) Ieyasu (-1) Masamune (+1) Kenshin (-1)

To be honest, I can think of only one character that would be annoyed by deficits of attention. Same with lack of understanding of social situations and such (also, I can high-five you on that).

Ieyasu (-2)

As for being disorganized... I think it could prove troublesome when in relationship with some suitors who also share this characteristic.

Hideyoshi (+1) Mitsunari (-1)

1st Summary

Mitsuhide (+4) Shingen (+4) Nobunaga (+3) Hideyoshi (+3) Mitsunari (+3) Masamune (+3) Kenshin (+2) Sasuke (+2) Ieyasu (-3)

*5 likes: 📍Read: everything (fantasy, culture, history...). Knowledge is power. 📍I would like to travel to learn language to understand people 📍Sweet things: I love sweet things 📍Animals: I wanted to be a veterinarian but I couldn’t enter in the University 📍Listening and observe people

Points distributed for likes:

Nobunaga (+3) - he would agree with such views on knowledge, sweet things, travel Mitsuhide (+3) - views on knowledge, travel, observing people Mitsunari (+1) - reading Ieyasu (+2) - views on knowledge, animals (veterinary in particular) Masamune (+1) - travel Shingen (+3) - views on knowledge, sweets, observing people Sasuke (+3) - observing people, reading, travel

* 5 dislikes: 📍I have a big scar in the side of the chest, combined with a hunched back and two breast of different size it makes me uncomfortable, so my body. 📍Get my freedom limited 📍Have to stay still 📍Just do things because the people talk 📍I have fear to be alone, like not psychically, but emotionally

A break from match-up. Oh love, we all have our imperfections, and what you mentioned in the first point are perfectly human traits. Breasts generally are of a different size, and it can vary a lot - and which is bigger can even change depending on the point in time of your menstrual cycle. Scars tell stories of what we went through and what makes us ourselves. We all have some, smaller, bigger ones, but they are there... And, lastly, as a person who used to have very bad posture (somewhat hunched back and some more): you may want to look into whether it could potentially cause some complications later on. Of course, it may not be a concern, but you know. Caring about your body is very important.

So, with that, some extra points, specifically for suitors who know how to cheer on their lover and who cherish them openly.

Mitsuhide (+1) Masamune (+1) Shingen (+1)

Points distributed for dislikes:

Nobunaga (-2) - limited freedom, emotionally aloof at times Ieyasu (-1) - may give the aura that you have to do something, because he says so, or because somebody says so, some norm says so Masamune (-1) - emotionally aloof at times Kenshin (-2) - emotionally aloof at times, limited freedom Shingen (-1) - emotionally aloof at times

2nd Summary

Mitsuhide (+8) Shingen (+7) Nobunaga (+4) Mitsunari (+4) Masamune (+4) Hideyoshi (+3) Sasuke (+5) Ieyasu (-2)

Only characters with positive value by their names will be considered in the final stages of the match-up.

* Relationship dealbreakers: 📍I don’t think I have any relationship dealbreakers except the mentioned in the pet peeves(it would be my first relationship), but I would not like be cheated without a reason (you don’t trust me so you don’t tell me the plan, okay; you don’t tell me all the information to tease me, okay; you just lie to me to hurt me, not okay) 📍Okey, may be I have 1 or 2 dealbreakers: I don’t stand people that treats others like garbage just because (if the other did something okay, but just because no) 📍Being ignored 📍People that is very possessive physically and emotionally: I need to talk and touch my friends. 📍People that believe that just because I can’t do things: like “you’re a woman you can’t fight” or “you can’t show so much skin”... 📍People that assume things: I like to be asked. 📍People that touch me without permission: if is a bet or a game I can, but without permission I can’t.

Oh, so I should consider pet peeves as dealbreakers?

* Up to 3 pet peeves: dealbreakers v.2 📍Poor hygiene 📍Be cheated 📍Constant criticism

Nobunaga (+4) & Masamune (+4) - too touchy, may not ask for permission first, they do struggle with the idea of consent at first Hideyoshi (+3) - may initially assume some things

* 3 Wild Cards: 📍I’m very naive and believe what people say so... if someone says “I don’t like/love you” in the real life I would believe them. 📍I think that I’m like a cat: I want a home base to return but I want to have the freedom to explore my environment. I want to have someone to return but with freedom to leave 📍My type of love is Words of affirmation

Mitsuhide & Shingen (-1) - they may use this sort of naivety and say such things, although they’d most likely have a good reason for it (hence not cross out for meeting a dealbreaker)

*Most disliked characters: 📍Kennyo: I don’t like that he is trying to kill me. 📍Ranmaru: I see him like a little brother 📍Mitsunari: the same as Ranmaru 📍Motonari: sorry Motonari, you’re very hot but the chains and necklaces are out of fashion

Mitsunari (+4)

Final Results

Mitsuhide (+7) Shingen (+6) Sasuke (+5)

Mitsuhide

Confessed first: You, although he didn’t realise you truly did mean it and weren’t just playing a role.

Makes tea in the morning: Mitsuhide. Having learnt of your problems with focus, he decided to make sure you’d at least eat something in the morning too - it made him realise how he worried others, so to say.

Hogs blankets at night: There’s no hogging blankets involved. He always has a spare blanket on hand. Sometimes you wonder whether there’s an infinity of blankets hidden around... Although, quite honestly, he is just more likely to go in for a hug if you did steal one from him.

Is the little spoon: On most days, you.

Possible points for conflict: Given his line of work, it happens sometimes that he has to pretend, to say things he does not mean. At times he may forget of how literally you take his words as well.

Free time ideas: Strolling through the town, visiting the marketplace, playing with his pet fox (Chimaki), just resting in the gardens of his manor.

Favourite date spot: The quiet and cosy teashop in the town.

A secret you share: He adores how literal you can be, but sometimes... Sometimes it causes for you to overwork yourself, or get otherwise hurt. Whenever such things happen, he gently urges you to stay inside while he lies on your behalf.

His favourite thing about you: How open you are. He fell for you, which means everything that you are, but he is still amazed by the fact that you dare be so direct and trusting. In his mind, it is a sign of a strong heart.

His message to you: “What is it, little mouse?” ”You’re not convinced you deserve so much?” ”My, my... Then let me prove to you how gorgeous you are. After all, you’re the only one I dare want.”

#match-up #ikesen match-up #ikemen sengoku match-up #ikesen #ikemen sengoku

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samwenahetbait · 3 years

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Supernatural, Season 7, and the Positive and Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia/Psychosis

I just finished season 7 of Supernatural. Season 7 and Sam’s arc, and later Cas’ arc, interested me a lot because I’m schizoaffective (schizoaffective being schizophrenia plus a mood disorder, either bipolar or depression, in my case depression).

I’ve done a lot of research on the disorder and spectrum of disorders and when watching the beginning of honey!Cas I thought this would be a really interesting way to show the ways the show does and doesn’t portray psychotic disorders well.

I’ll be using both Sam and Cas, Sam for positive symptoms and Cas for negative symptoms, and evaluating them for how accurate they are to DSM 5 criteria for psychosis, criteria for schizophrenia (understanding that neither of them could be diagnosed due to duration and the magical nature of their problem), and accuracy to personal experience (not all psychotic experiences are the same, obviously, so this is not the most accurate test, but lets do it anyways lol)

This is gonna be long, so more under the cut!

So a bit of background of the DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia and DSM 4 criteria for psychosis not otherwise specified, which is still in use in hospitals and doctors offices and would definitely still be used in 2012. The DSM 5 criteria for schizophrenia includes two or more of the following, with one having to be one of the first three: hallucinations, delusions (things that you believe as true even when presented evidence you’re false), disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior, negative symptoms. The duration must be for six months including prodrome (mostly negative symptoms), with at least one month of active symptoms.

The DSM 4 says psychosis not otherwise specified includes delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech, grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior about which the doctor cannot make another, better diagnosis.

Positive Symptoms

“Positive” and “negative” symptoms are a bit misleading. what they really mean are positive symptoms are things the disorder adds that aren’t there originally (hallucinations, delusions, disordered speech), and negative symptoms are things that are taken away (blunted affect, poverty of speech, avolition or lack of energy)

[ID: Sam looks to the left. He says “he’s singing “stairway to heaven” right now.” End ID]

Sam is our character who experiences positive symptoms with Hallucifer. There are multiple types of hallucinations, the most common being auditory. Combination auditory and visual hallucinations are possible but they’re more rare than the media makes you believe.

Sam has a stereotypical case of what an outsider with no research may think psychosis or schizophrenia is - he has a voice that will not let him sleep, that constantly bothers him. Sam qualifies for Psychosis Not Otherwise Specified in that he has a prominent hallucination and does not qualify for another disorder.

What’s interesting about Sam’s psychosis to me watching, though, was the hallucination was the only sign of psychosis he had. It was severe and caused depression, derealization, dissociation, and insomnia but he never had delusions outside of the hallucinations, never had disordered speech outside of sleep deprivation, never had bizarre movements or disorganized behaviors. The only way to get a schizophrenia diagnosis with only hallucinations is if you have two or more voices who talk to each other, which he does not have. Sam would absolutely not qualify for a schizophrenia diagnosis.

As for personal experience - I’ve been hospitalized because voices have made it impossible for me to sleep so this arc hit close to home. I thought at times he was a little too well put together and honestly think there were moments in the season the writers forgot he was actively hallucinating. I thought that besides only having hallucinations and it being the Hollywood hallucination Sam’s arc with his “voice” was fairly easy for me to empathize with - but not easy for anyone else to treat him with respect. Here’s a link to a quiz I made about which ableist phrase used against Sam in season 7 you are

Negative Symptoms

[ID: Meg, in a nurses outfit, crosses her arms. Castiel’s profile is seen. Meg says “He’s been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up.” End ID]

Cas, when absorbing Sam’s hell trauma, originally has his one positive symptom - hallucinations of Lucifer. However, after he wakes up from his coma he has one and a half noticeable positive symptoms and one and a half marked negative symptoms.

Cas experiences some form of hallucination (he tells Sam that he “sees everything” when asked what he sees) but it’s unclear what he means by this. He has noticeable disorganized speech however in that he will end conversations during important discussions and change the topic, which is an aspect of disorganized speech.

I would also argue Cas experiences a negative symptoms known in disorganized schizophrenia particularly, although anyone with psychosis can have it: inappropriate affect. Some people with schizophrenia will laugh during moments when they should be crying or show inappropriate emotional responses, uncontrolled. Cas doesn’t seem to have control over his emotions and will make jokes and laugh during tense or upsetting situations. Part of that is also due to his complete disconnect with reality and what is happening in the situation. It could also be argued he experienced disorganized movement or catatonia, as we see him staring blankly and sitting still at the end of 7.17.

Castiel definitely qualifies for PNOS through his disconnect with reality, possible hallucinations, and disorganized speech, as well as with inappropriate affect and possible catatonia. Despite having more on the list than Sam he still doesn’t qualify for schizophrenia.

This is getting longer than anticipated so I’ll try to make this section shorter. I don’t think honey!cas was written to be psychotic. I don’t think he was written with an illness in mind. I don’t think either of them were. I think Cas was written to be funny crazy and Sam to be scary crazy. But in writing a funny crazy character the writers accidentally hit somewhere personal as someone living with the cognitive and neurological effects of schizoaffective. I watched honey!cas on a bad cognitive day and sobbed when they were mean to him because I related to the disorganized speech and the inappropriate behavior. Is it good representation? No. It’s exaggerated and ridiculed. It’s deeply ableist. And the way the writer’s treat him and have others treat him is deeply ableist. But I did find myself relating and rooting for him.

Fandom Response

I haven’t been in Supernatural fandom long (four months) and being involved with fandom while watching the show has been interesting. I’ve had pretty much everything at least somewhat spoiled so I was excited to see honey!cas and psychotic Sam in something other than gifs. I’ve seen maybe three people talk about sam’s psychosis, maybe because I don’t follow enough sam blogs, but it’s not something I’ve seen a lot of. everyone i’ve seen has been psychotic and made it clear he’s a psychotic character or been supportive of viewing him as psychotic. But honey!cas is very popular and...sexualized?

I’ve seen two responses to honey!cas: he’s so crazy or he’s so slutty. I’m going to ask both of those groups of people to see the character as a person experiencing cognitive issues and a break from reality. Not saying not to talk about honey!cas - he’s interesting, but please don’t sexualize him for being quirky when by quirky you mean delusional and please don’t do the opposite and demonize him for being vulnerable (and if that’s crazy. you should see me off my meds)

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam #castiel #cas #sam safe space

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

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hi! swf anon here

i agree w ur points. i don’t think the mission was very fitting? mnet had them essentially do an individual mission but mix matched the crews together and do a Group performance… in the episode, no one really cared to work together. instead they were more focused on wanting to stand out. i thought all the performances were v lackluster so i’m hoping for more? but my expectations are VERY low because the preview dance performances for the next ep looked v bad. each crew has more dancers to fill space and do fun formations but like, also? it seemed v poorly produced (stage design is literally them in a big ass empty stage). and that more doesn’t mean better because some stages looked v disorganized.

also, it seems like the show is more focused on ‘idol dancing’ if that makes sense? and that’s why it’s shot and edited that way. because chaeyeon is on it, there has been a lot of discussion of what counts as dancing vs idol dancing. also if idols can be considered as dancers. (the same argument that idol rappers are not rappers, etc.) taeyong was thrown in the mix because he’s one of the judges and people don’t think he’s Valid to be one.

also, what is unique to street battle dancing? i’m not familiar w it. and honestly i feel like boa is the only one making sense on the show. i like her comments and why she chose a crew as the better performance.

(this is a jumble of thoughts! sorry. i’m not on my laptop.)

no worries at all! your jumble makes perfect sense to me. i''m sorry this got very long and is mostly me rambling, i guess it's tit for tat at least!

honestly i would rather them doing big groups on an empty stage than whatever those massive quarry sets were, because at least we'll be able to see the choreo a little better. and you're absolutely correct more does not at all mean better. i am definitely a little confused on the priorities of the show, since they seem to be trying to incite the dance vs kpop dance conversation but don't actually seem to be doing it in a constructive way? i haven't watched the full episodes so i can't confirm, obviously, but from what i've seen they mostly just seem to be fueling the division between the two. i talked about this with the idol rapper thing during the collab kingdom stages but idol dance serves exactly the same function as idol rap; it's a part of the form of idol performance. it is a type of dance, and there are certainly idols who are very good at dance, but idol dancers and idol dance is not pushing or innovating the art of dance as a field. it's simply a different set of skills that serve a different function in a different form of art. it's kind of like trying to ask a fashion designer to be a performance costume designer. yea, ostensibly it's the same skills that came from the same place, and yes there are people that can do both, but they are specialized for their specific fields.

personally, of any current popular idol they could have picked, i think taeyong is a better choice than most. he's got a very well known face, he's a leader so he's used to being variety show material, and although he does dance like an action figure animated by suspicious mystical forces, he does actually care a lot about learning and acquiring new skills (see the fish surgeon incident), so he's not about to go onto the show wholly unprepared. not saying he's going to provide the most helpful feedback, but he's probably gonna be better than some other idols they could have picked, at least. and honestly? from what i've seen so far, i don't actually think there's a lot of dance happening that i would consider not idol dance, so i think it's probably fine that 2/3 judges are idols.

like i said in the tags of my previous post, battle dancing + street dance in general are much more focused on technique than idol dancing is. also most of it is freestyle. it's about arranging moves in combination to music in a fresh and interesting way that has a good structure and strong musicality. i linked the final from battle pro 2019 in my first post, but it's a little hard to explain what's going on, so instead i'm going to use mostly battle examples from street dance china here, because it's also a show about street dance that uses idols/celebrities as a way to bring in viewers, but they are also bringing in judges and dancers active in the global street dance scene.

this is one of my favourite battles from season 3, it's one round from a 4v4 where each dancer is trying to garner points for their team to avoid an elimination. the great thing about this battle is that it shows the strengths and weakness of different styles in battle dancing. this particular music works very well for two of these dancers, chunlin (second) and bouboo (fourth), but it doesn't work that well for klash (third), who is a bboy. you can also see how the editors of sdc actually put in post all the different moves that each dancer is doing, which i think is great and shows all the bits of technique that come together for each freestyle.

this is a 3v3 from the fourth season, where the first round is hiphop, second round is bboy, and third round is waacking (there are two other rounds after, but they cut rochka v bouboo from this edit and only showed c lil v qiao zhi, the bboys). the first round is VERY close to a draw, and rochka (long dreads) actually beats bouboo in the second round (bouboo is rochka's teacher, they're both french hiphop champions). qiao zhi beats c lil in the bboy rounds because he focuses more on technique and listening to the music, as opposed to doing just showy and experimental moves (you can see qiao zhi gesturing at his ears in the second round at the end, saying that c lil isn't listening). and in the waacking round, ac goes a little more for showmanship than technique, and that's why ibuki beats him in the end. tony gogo does a short explanation that says basically this, who is one of the judges and is a founder of the first locking group in the 70s, and also one of michael jackson's choreographers.

if you want to watch something that's a bit more showy and actually uses the idols, this is the first round of the captain's battle between wang yibo (uniq) and jackson wang (got7) from sdc3, where they have like 15min to come up with a short choreo to the same piece of music and then have to battle each other with it. and this is basically the same thing from sdc4, but the captains had to pick a dancer to dance with. the rules were slightly different for this one so the captain could chose to have another dancer sub, which is what han geng did for his second round. if you have 20 min and are curious, this is the full captain's cypher also from sdc4, which is han geng (ex-suju m) v zhang yixing (exo) v wang yibo v henry lau (ex-suju m). they're battling for extra towels (long story, it's the point system, basically) to save dancers that have already been eliminated. each of them pick a style they want to dance, and they have to do four rounds and all dance to each style's music.

basically what i'm using all these examples to explain is that battle dancing is about having a really strong understanding of basic dance skills and being able to do good freestyle. that's the biggest difference between idol dancers and street dancers. and this also extends beyond battles as well; here's another example because i can and because it's extremely funny. this is from the first elimination round in sdc4, where half the dancers were able to pre-choreograph performances and were only able to challenge them in a call out, but the caveat was that they HAD to dance to the other dancer's music without listening to it again. so basically if you wanted to call out someone, you had to listen and memorize while watching their routine, and then freestyle a routine on the spot. which meant that everyone who pre-choreographed routines did it to the most batshit music they could possibly think of, to prevent people from challenging them. xiao ji calls out welllai because he's a dumbass and wants to go to the bathroom, so you can actually see his thinking process in trying to freestyle to this weirdass fuckin beat she used. and he ultimately wins the call out because he shows good ingenuity and character as well as technique and ability. he even says at the end that it was only because of many years of practice that he was able to pull that off.

#street woman fighter #swf #honest to god my second favourite thing about sdc is watching yibo go absolutely fucking FERAL during the battles #he's usually pretty introverted and focused but just loses his fucking shit every time it's so funny #in the seven to smoke battle (1v7) in sdc3 he actually throws a chair at one point #(my first favourite thing is the dancing obvs) (third favourite is the idiom competitions)#xiao ji and also xiao jie (the first dancer from the first battle example) are both probably the best comedic dancers ive ever seen #both of them were part of steven chow themed routines in sdc3 and holy shit they are so funny #xiao ji gotta be funny his name is a synonym for 'little chicken'#sdc #text #answers #swf reviews #me making myself crosseyed trying to remember everyone's names because they all used their chinese names #i spent four months calling jackson wang jiaer and it erased my memory of ever calling him jackson. qiao zhi's stage name is george #he does look like a george but im not calling him that #its also why i stopped refering to yixing as lay #yibo took one look at bouboo in the third season and went 'thats MY man' and no one stopped him #they barely have a mutual language its so cute #and yixing and his attachment to huang xiao and qiao zhi.....also very cute #sdc is the only competition show i care about can you tell #ok im stopping now im going overboard

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writing-fool · 4 years

Text

mlqc | let’s hit rewind

What kind of videos would the MLQC guys make if they were YouTubers? I think this is a youtube!au, but to be fair, Kiro probably has a YouTube channel in canon. See it as you will? I won’t really talk about their life outside of YT/internet so you can decide for yourself whether this is an AU or not, and whether they’re a full-time YouTuber or not.

As always, enjoy, and requests are open!

Love,

Warning(s): none

Victor

Victor probably has a cooking channel

scratch that. he absolutely starts as one of those Aesthetic™ cooking channels like Cooking tree, HANSE, Sweet The MI or Nino’s Home.

his channel is called Souvenir because he’s not THAT original you can’t expect everything from a man, people.

he starts off doing these voiceless cooking videos, but after a voice and face reveal at 2 million followers where he cooks something for his followers as a thanks...well, who wouldn’t want more of that sultry voice and glorious face

currently has about 4 million subscribers

Victor’s channel is kind of comparable to Junskitchen, a rather relaxed, casual atmosphere combined with exquisite, refined cuisine

if he feels like it, he does a voice-over, otherwise he just puts calm jazz, blues or r&b over his cooking

HAS done an ASMR special. low-key dislikes the video because he has to whisper voice-overs but people LOVE it

likes making all kinds of foods, but his channel features quite a lot of sweet foods and desserts because a certain dummy has a sweet tooth

a pretty popular feature during quarantine is Cooking w/ Sou, essentially a live stream where Sou (aka Victor) cooks a whole three-course meal while talking to and instructing his followers

his subscribers notice that he doesn’t really need editing to look clean during cooking because his technique is IMMACULATE

by the end, he’s made a themed dinner for two...which always raises a question mark

is Sou single? does he have a roommate? a girlfriend? a kid? WHAT?

after getting your explicit permission, Victor addresses the situation in one of his recent Q&As

“Why do I always make dinner for two? I have a fiancée, she edits my videos in her spare time. She works as a producer. *you wave your hand over the lens* Dummy.” he breezes over it like it’s no big deal even though he’s a tad nervous about exposing something personal like this

his fans blow up the internet, baffled but not entirely surprised that someone like Sou isn’t a bachelor

of course, some leave hate under the video honestly, people who do this to celebs who start dating are HORRIBLE

most subscribers are super supportive of your relationship and thank you for the editing that makes Souvenir such a well put-together channel...also did he seriously call his fiancée a dummy? such a tsundere!

sometimes, you’ll (well, your hands...we’re keeping a bit of privacy here) even be in the end shot of videos, munching away at the carefully plated food

one day, Sou will be making a video titled Wedding Cake.

Lucien

Lucien’s channel LucidLight is a tad bit all over the place

he’s a man of many talents, and his channel reflects just that

i’m not saying it’s a disorganized channel, because the theme is very much there - the uniform theme in Luci’s content is a cozy background, a cup of tea and a soothing thumbnail

i mean that content-wise, his subscribers don’t really know what they’re going to get next...he has a slightly similar style to the YouTuber simon plant

his content varies from interesting science theories to poetry reading sessions to ASMR to painting/sketching to cooking and much, much more

he has an heavenly soothing, smooth voice. it’s his trademark since Lucien doesn’t show his face on camera. ever.

doesn’t have a TON of subs, because his channel is a bit of a niche thing, but I’d say he has 1,2 million subscribers and 400k followers on his added ‘business’ Instagram

he holds a lot of live streams on Instagram/YouTube (i know Moments exists in the game, but that’s more like a Facebook or Twitter kind of app...) and is always shown with just his torso and neck in frame. the lives usually include some poetry reading and generally just having a nice, relaxing chat with his followers. they can last up to 5 hours at once, and YOU know it’s because he doesn’t need sleep like a normal human being, but his fans are still asking questions about his timezone

his subscribers are strangely fascinated by his mysterious, gentle nature and also incredibly obsessed with his large, elegant hands

his ASMR videos are often roleplays of Librarian Lucien or Professor Lucien explaining to people why their rest is important

other times, they include soft affirmations, positive whispers, finger fluttering, hair touching and maybe kissing sounds...

Lucien paints a lot too, although he works primarily with ink and pencil sketches. you’ll find a watercolour or oil painting somewhere, but they’re not his most prominent media

his art videos are usually silent, although he might say something once in a while. there’s always some type of solo instrumental music playing in the background.

he does educational videos about biology and universe theories, but will also have reading sessions about scientific books

not intentionally secretive about your relationship, but he’s not one to mention it either

the first time you appeared on screen was when he was doing another live stream. he’s in his office talking about a play, when you come padding in to bid him goodnight.

“Yes, indeed. Laura’s glass menagerie, as the play suggests, is a symbol of fragility. Laura herself is very frail, but her favourite—”

“Good night, darling.” your soft voice rings through the room. viewers see Lucien’s torso turning a little bit, a hand on his shoulder and a curtain hair appearing from the top of the screen. his hand moves, presumably to cup the person’s cheek, before a soft kiss is heard through the mic. “Sleep tight, my love,” he murmurs.

“Ah. Laura’s favourite glass figurine is the unicorn, which...”

people are in uproar, but Lucien is a strong-willed man who refuses to explicitly announce the nature of his relationship.

his subscribers stop asking after a while, because it really isn’t any of their business, and they now know Lucien’s a taken man

you kind of appear on live streams accidentally a couple more times, but nothing’s really changed about Lucien’s content

the only thing he WILL say, and this is purely to give you credit, is “Ah. The background instrumentals in my art videos are played live. Yes, my lover’s very talented.”

you guys are the mysterious, talented, soft-voiced power couple of YouTube

Gavin

Gavin’s channel probably starts as a joint channel with you, something like Rachel and Jun

it’s relatively obvious from the start that Gavin from Birds&Cops is in a relationship, since you guys have a vlogging-style channel

your channel is filled with gym vlogs, travel vlogs to other countries and a lot of self-defence and sport at home videos.

you guys also post a lot of funny vlogs talking about your day, going on fun dates, of course food vlogs in restaurants, all that stuff...

you often sit down and talk about your life, and maybe you’ll even do a mukbang during it for someone so fit, Gavin does eat a lot of food.

Gavin’s channel didn’t blow up right away, because vlogging channels aren’t exactly unique, and he looks like the typical ‘straight boy with a girlfriend’

but he started gaining followers after people noticed how cute and blushy he acts, and how incredibly respectful and caring he is towards you

one of the most popular videos is Boyfriend Does My Makeup and it’s adorable. Gavin’s handling your face with so much care, and comments like “I know what this is, I’ve watched you do it many times.” or “Babe, does it hurt? Should I be more gentle? I’m sorry...my hands are rough.” make everyone SWOON

toxic masculinity left the chat. Gavin loves taking care of you in any way, whether it’s getting pads, chocolate and hot packs during your period or braiding your hair

in those yoga/celebrity fitness routine challenges, subs get to see Gavin in a tight singlet and sweatpants/shorts, and it’s HOLY

you’re very much aware of the attention Gavin receives from female fans, and how lucky you are to have found such a sweet partner

Gavin will usually see this type of comment while scrolling and will turn to you and go “Babe, you know I’m the lucky one here, right?”

anyways, a feature that you do to show fans the extent of Gavin’s sweet personality is Pranking My Boyfriend, where you set up the camera for a harmless prank like pretending to have a nightmare (similar to channels like Farina Jo)

that particular video was so fun to shoot, because it ended up with Gavin softly singing a lullaby to calm you down in his arms

“Baby, wake up. I’m here, you’re safe.” Gavin knows how to deal with panicking people, but he hates this prank afterwards because ‘he didn’t like seeing you in pain’

fans squealed. Birds&Cops gained like 50k subs through that video. the channel’s currently at 999k subscribers

overall, it’s just a really lovely, family-friendly channel

Kiro

Kiro knows his way around the web, alright?

not even just as Key, but he’s had a YouTube channel since the age of 15

his channel, CtrlAltChips is a hit with many people of many, many ages

he streams gaming sessions on Twitch and posts them on his YouTube channel afterwards

other content includes (primarily) covers & original songs, simple talking videos, thrifting & fashion videos, mukbangs and candid dance videos in a studio

think of chloe moriondo, doddleoddle, Victor the Drum Destroyer and Cat Strat

alternatively, for the ARMYs here, think of Jeon Jungkook as a YouTuber

Kiro has about 18 million subscribers, which is A LOT, but he’s been on YouTube for 7 years and he’s made a name for himself as a super likeable and bubbly guy with an angelic voice and killer moves

you’d think he’s just a cute boy when he sings acoustic covers, but his dance moves suggest that he’s not THAT cute

also how does he stay so fit with all those snack mukbangs?

he has a segment named In Our Kloset where he talks about social issues (because our boy uses his platform for good) around the world while customizing (not just pins. we’re talking patches, sewing, painting, embroidery) thrifted clothing to his liking. at the end he holds a little fashion show with his new outfits

after a while, you’ll see many of his outfits in giveaways or on sale for charity. Kiro tries to give back to his fans as much as he can, and how better than by sharing a piece of his unique clothing with them?

a great singer and performer. has held actual concerts before and has an actual music career (author-nim leaves it up to you readers to decide whether this is his idol career or some other musical project)

keeps his private life PRIVATE. he knows how the internet works, and he knows there’s no way he can keep your relationship a secret forever, but he’s not about to expose it to the world because of that reason

keeps tabs on information or rumours regarding you and makes them vanish

he’s simultaneously the most open and the most secretive out of the four boys. his fans know his favourite colour, what type of underwear he wears (trunks. Kiro wears trunks.), his birthday,...

but they know nothing about his past, his location, his close social circle or his family (teeechnically he’s an orphan but ig we’re talking about his mentor here. the blood of the covenant blah blah blah...y’know?). Kiro protects his loved ones fiercely

for someone who’s kept so secret, you’re actually really involved in Kiro’s virtual persona. you’re usually behind the camera during his In Our Kloset videos and are in charge of extra research regarding topics so he doesn’t spread any misinformation

you also give pointers during filming (of course, these bits are edited out) because Kiro tends to trail off and get distracted when sewing

another way you’re involved is setting up the food during mukbangs. you have a great sense of aesthetics, so all of his videos in general will go through you.

while you like being low-key in Kiro’s life, you don’t want him to feel like he has to protect you from all the hate.

he doesn’t particularly love keeping you a secret either, and it makes him feel guilty because he doesn’t want you to think he’s ashamed of you. he could never be.

you guys give it a good chat over how you’re going to announce it, and he just ends up making a video titled Miss Chips where the two of you sit down and talk to the camera

“Hello my little chips! Uhm, as you can see, there’s someone sitting next to me today. Maybe you already guessed from the title, but this is...my girlfriend, Miss Chips,” cue the cute jazz hands in your direction, “We’ve been dating for a long, loooong time, right, Miss Chips?”

“I just wanted to share this with you guys, since it felt wrong to keep such an important person in my life private. I hope you’re all kind to her, because I love her dearly, even to the point of giving up my snacks...so it’s serious.”

it really is that serious, hm?

Hope you enjoyed reading!

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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I really don’t want to start a discourse™, but I want you to know that I really appreciate how you write joe and Nicky in deo volente. So many of the fics I’ve read have placed yusef in the role of more sexually experienced and less devoted to god, while Nicky is depicted as an inexperienced and virginal priest/knight/monk and so forth and so on. Your narrative of joe out there rescuing people and being faithful, while Nicky looks back on his life of gambling and pleasures of the flesh ...(1/?)

Not to say that there’s anything wrong with either, obviously. I love guilty priest Nicky and repressed Nicky and p much every Nicky. But in the vast array of fics out there, it’s rare to see the opposite. Not that you’re working in a binary morally good/religious vs. not way. Your writing in the fic is really subtle and and your characterizations reveal a lot of depth. I just think it’s cool to see Nicky, average second son of a duke, drinking and gambling and feeling terribly guilty (2/?)

Guilty about the crusades and the fucking horror of crusade 1 without being excessively devout. Just an average dude. Not some paragon of virtue (btw, I’m on chapter 2 of the fic, so I don’t know how much your characterization changes moving forward. You have a lovely ability to combine your incredible knowledge of history, your beautiful writing, and these intimate details of the characters that make them fit— fit the canon and fit the history. (3/? Shit I’m sorry this had gotten way too long)

I enjoy the way you’ve really inserted us into the quotidian aspect of history. Aaaaaanyway— the discourse that I was afraid of: I think that a lot of fans of the movie that are generating fan content (tysfm to all of you beauties, btw 🙏🙏♥️) are westerners (which is a whole nother kettle of fish) and that carries a sort of ignorance about the Muslim world in the Middle Ages and this desire to simplify Europe as “Christian” “fighters for faith” etc. (4/? Fuuuuck. One(??) more)

And when we do that, we end up as characterizing the brown people as “not that”. The thing I love about this fandom is that people are definitely down on the crusades. I feel like all the fic I’ve read has been particularly negative about those wars, but the thing I love about your fic is that you don’t just say war is bad because people died and it was despicable and this pious white dude says so and this one brown person agrees. (5/6, I see the end in sight I swear it)

Instead you give us a larger cast of Muslims and Arabs and really flesh them out and give them opinions and different interpretations of faith, and I really appreciate that. The crusades were terrible, and we know this because these regular dudes who struggle with their different faiths and lives say so. And I just. I think that’s really great. Also, I fucking love yusef’s mom. I feel like more people would be accepting of the gift in this fashion and I think she’s lovely and (god damn it 6/7)

Aaaaaaaand. The bit where yusef returns and she’s already gone breaks my fucking heart. Also the moment where he’s like “I’m not sure about Abraham’s god, but my mothers god is worth my faith”?? Just really fucking great. So. Excellent fic. Excellent characters. Excellent not-being-accidentally-biased-towards-white-Christians. That is what I came here to say. Thank you so much for your amazing stories. I love them and I love history. Sorry about the rambling. idek how I wrote so much. (7/7)

Epilogue: tl;dr: you’re great.

Oh man! What a huge and thoughtful comment (which will in turn provoke a long-ass response from me, so…) I absolutely agree that no matter what fandom, I don’t do Discourse TM; I just sit in my bubble and stay in my lane and do my own thing and create content I enjoy. And I don’t even think this is that so much as just… general commentary on character and background? So obviously all of this should be read as my own personal experience and choices in writing DVLA, and that alone. I really appreciate you for saying that you love a wide range of fan creators/fanworks and you’re not placing one over another, you understand that fans have diverse ranges of backgrounds/experience with history and other cultures when they create content, and that’s not the same for everyone. So I just think that’s a great and respectful way to start things off.

First, as a professional historian who has written a literal PhD thesis on the crusades, I absolutely understand that many people (and regular fans) will not have the same privilege/education/perspective that I do, and that’s fine! They should not be expected to get multiple advanced degrees to enjoy a Netflix movie! But since I DO have that background, and since I’ve been working on the intellectual genealogy of the crusades (and the associated Christian/Muslim component, whether racially or religiously) since I was a master’s student, I have a lot of academic training and personal feelings that inform how I write these characters. Aside from my research on all this, my sister lives in an Islamic country and her boyfriend is a Muslim man; I’ve known a lot of Muslims and Middle Easterners; and especially with the current political climate of Islamophobia and the reckoning with racism whether in reality or fandom, I have been thinking about all this a lot, and my impact on such.

Basically: I love Nicky dearly, but I ADORE Joe, and as such, I’m protective of him and certainly very mindful of how I write him. Especially when the obvious default for westerners in general, fandom-related or otherwise, is to write what you are familiar with (i.e. the European Christian white character) and be either less comfortable or less confident or sometimes less thoughtful about his opposing number. I have at times tangentially stumbled across takes on Joe that turn me into the “eeeeeeeh” emoji or Dubious Chrissy Teigen, but I honestly couldn’t tell you anything else about them because I was like, “nope not for me” and went elsewhere rather than do Discourse (which is pretty much a waste of time everywhere and always makes people feel bad). This is why I’m always selective about my fan content, but especially so with this ship, because I have SO much field-specific knowledge that I just have to make what I like and which suits my personal tastes. So that is what I do.

Obviously, there’s a troublesome history with the trope of “sexually liberate brown person seduces virginal white character into a world of Fleshly Decadence,” whether from the medieval correlation of “sodomite” and “Saracen,” or the nineteenth-century Orientalist depictions of the East as a land variously childishly simplistic, societally backward, darkly mysterious and Exotic, or “decadent” (read: code for sexually unlike Western Europe, including the spectrum of queer acts). So when I was writing DVLA, I absolutely did not want to do that and it’s not to my taste, but I’m not going to whip out a red pen on someone else writing a story that broadly follows those parameters (because as I said, I stay in my lane and don’t see it anyway). Joe to me is just such an intensely complex and lovely Muslim character that that’s the only way I feel like I can honestly write him, and I absolutely love that about him. So yeah, any depiction of hypersexualizing him or making him only available for the sexual use and education of the white character(s) is just... mmm, not for me.

For example, I stressed over whether it was appropriate to move his origin from “somewhere in the Maghreb” to Cairo specifically, since Egypt, while it IS in North Africa, is not technically part of the Maghreb. I realize that Marwan Kenzari’s family is Tunisian and that’s probably why they chose it, to honor the actor’s heritage, but on the flip side… “al-Kaysani” is also a specifically Ismai’li Shia name (it’s the name of a branch of it) and the Fatimids (the ruling dynasty in Jerusalem at the time of the First Crusade) were well-known for being the only Ismai’li Shia caliphate. (This is why the Shi’ites still ancestrally dislike Saladin for overthrowing it in 1174, even if Saladin is a huge hero to the rest of the Islamic world.) Plus I really wanted to use medieval Cairo as Joe’s homeland, and it just made more sense for an Ismai’li Shia Fatimid from Cairo (i.e. the actual Muslim denomination and caliphate that controlled Jerusalem) to be defending the Holy City because it was personal for him, rather than a Sunni Zirid from Ifriqiya just kind of turning up there. Especially due to the intense fragmentation and disorganization in the Islamic world at the time of the First Crusade (which was a big part of the reason it succeeded) and since the Zirids were a breakaway group from the Fatimids and therefore not very likely to be militarily allied with them. As with my personal gripes about Nicky being a priest, I decided to make that change because I felt, as a historian, that it made more sense for the character. But I SUPER recognize it as my own choices and tweaks, and obviously I’m not about to complain at anyone for writing what’s in graphic novel/bonus content canon!

That ties, however, into the fact that Nicky has a clearly defined city/region of origin (Genoa, which has a distinct history, culture, and tradition of crusading) and Joe is just said to be from “the Maghreb” which…. is obviously huge. (I.e. anywhere in North Africa west of Egypt all the way to Morocco.) And this isn’t a fandom thing, but from the official creators/writers of the comics and the movie. And I’m over here like: okay, which country? Which city? Which denomination of Islam? You’ve given him a Shia name but then point him to an origin in Sunni Ifriqiya. If he’s from there, why has he gone thousands of miles to Jerusalem in the middle of a dangerous war to help his religious/political rivals defend their territory? Just because he’s nice? Because it was an accident? Why is his motivation or reason for being there any less defined or any less religious (inasmuch as DVLA Nicky’s motive for being on the First Crusade is religious at all, which is not very) than the white character’s? In a sense, the Christians are the ones who have to work a lot harder to justify their presence in the Middle East in the eleventh century at all: the First Crusade was a specifically military and offensive invasion launched at the direct behest of the leader of the Western Roman church (Pope Urban II.) So the idea that they’re “fighting for the faith” or defending it bravely is…

Eeeeh. (Insert Dubious Chrissy Teigen.)

But of course, nobody teaches medieval history to anyone in America (except for Bad Game of Thrones History Tee Em), and they sure as hell don’t teach about the crusades (except for the Religious Violence Bad highlight reel) so people don’t KNOW about these things, and I wish they DID know, and that’s why I’m over here trying to be an academic so I can help them LEARN it, and I get very passionate about it. So once again, I entirely don’t blame people who have acquired this distorted cultural impression of the crusades and don’t want to do a book’s worth of research to write a fic about a Netflix movie. I do hope that they take the initiative to learn more about it because they’re interested and want to know more, since by nature the pairing involves a lot of complex religious, racial, and cultural dynamics that need to be handled thoughtfully, even if you don’t know everything about it. So like, basically all I want is for the Muslim character(s) to be given the same level of respect, attention to detail, background story, family context, and religious diversity as any of the white characters, and Imma do it myself if I have to. Dammit.

(I’m really excited to hear your thoughts on the second half of the fic, especially chapter 3 and chapter 6, but definitely all of it, since I think the characters they’re established as in the early part of the fic do remain true to themselves and both grow and struggle and go through a realistic journey with their faith over their very long lives, and it’s one of my favorite themes about DVLA.)

Anyway, about Nicky. I also made the specific choice to have him be an average guy, the ordinary second son of a nobleman who doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life and isn’t the mouthpiece of Moral Virtue in the story, since as he himself realizes pretty quick, the crusades and especially the sack/massacre of Jerusalem are actually horrific. I’ve written in various posts about my nitpicking gripes with him being a priest, so he’s not, and as I said, I’m definitely avoiding any scenario where he has to Learn About The World from Joe. That is because I want to make the point that the people on the crusades were people, and they went for a lot of different reasons, not all of which were intense personal religious belief. The crusades were an institution and operated institutionally. Even on the First Crusade, where there were a lot of ordinary people who went because of sincere religious belief, there was the usual bad behavior by soldiers and secular noblemen and people who just went because it was the thing to do. James Brundage has an article about prostitution and miscegenation and other sexual activity on the First Crusade; even at the height of this first and holy expedition, it was happening. So Nicky obviously isn’t going to be the moral exemplar because a) the crusades are horrific, he himself realizes that, and b) it’s just as historically accurate that he wouldn’t be anyway. Since the idea is that medieval crusaders were all just zealots and ergo Not Like Us is dangerous, I didn’t want to do that either. If we think they all went because they were all personally fervent Catholics and thus clearly we couldn’t do the same, then we miss a lot of our own behavior and our parallel (and troubling) decisions, and yeah.

As well, I made a deliberate choice to have Nicky’s kindness (which I LOVE about him, it’s one of my favorite things, god how refreshing to have that be one of the central tenets of a male warrior character) not to be something that was just… always there and he was Meek and Good because a priest or whatever else. Especially as I’ve gotten older and we’ve all been living through these ridiculous hellyears (2020 is the worst, but it’s all been general shit for a while), I’ve thought more and more about how kindness is an active CHOICE and it’s as transgressive as anything else you can do and a whole lot more brave than just cynicism and nihilism and despair. As you’ll see in the second half of the fic, Nicky (and Joe) have been through some truly devastating things and it might be understandable if they gave into despair, but they DON’T. They choose to continue to be good people and to try and to actively BE kind, rather than it being some passive default setting. They struggle with it and it’s raw and painful and they’re not always saints, but they always come down on the side of wanting to keep doing what they’re doing, and I… have feelings about that.

Anyway, this is already SUPER long, so I’ll call it quits for now. But thank you so much for this, because I love these characters and I love the story I created for them in DVLA, since all this is personal to me in a lot of ways, and I’m so glad you picked up on that.

#history #medieval history #queer history #dvla asks #long post #the old guard meta #anonymous #ask

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rymndsmth · 4 years

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**** alphabet (ft. raymond smith)

this was a request from an anon so uhh. here it is! (also i censored it because i dont want tumblr to come for me, and it’s the first one of these i ever did so be nice)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ray is comforting. He kisses you softly, especially over those spots he tends to grip you hard during sex-your hips, thighs. A quick shower with you afterwards is always preferred, but if you’re too knackered, he just helps you with the essentials. A good snuggle, however, is non-negotiable. Ray likes to be the big spoon, enveloping your body with his as he nuzzles your neck.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nothing drives him crazier than feeling your hands touch his back. Your soft fingers caressing from the base of his spine to his neck never fails to make every inch of him stand to attention. As for you, god, it was nearly impossible for him to single out which part of your body was his favorite. Nearly.

He loved your legs. The curves of your supple thighs, your calves. His favorite feeling in the world was how they felt wrapped around his waist as he drove into you endlessly, feeling your muscles flex and coil. Their silkiness against him as you lied lazily in bed came a close second.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The sound you made when you were just about to cum was one he ached to record. Breaths going in and coming out, each quicker than the last until they seemed to cease entirely. And then that little ah. With your brows furrowed, and your mouth agape, you’d finish it off with some combination of Ray, fuck yes! or right fucking there, please don’t stop Ray. It took everything in him not to lose it each time you did.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ray can be submissive. There are times where he pins you to the bed and fucks you mercilessly, but he desires to be led. He likes it when you pull on his hair harshly, when you tell him to stop messing around and take you harder, deeper, faster. A little bit of degradation is fine too; he gets particularly turned on when you call his efforts pathetic.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

In terms of the amount of people he’s slept with, there actually haven’t been many. Ray isn’t one for casual sex, he usually keeps the same partner for a few months if not years at a time. But he’s always been open and experimental, so he knows how to do quite a wide range of things in the bedroom.

One time he surprised you by expertly hogtying you after you gave him shit about being neurotic. You were left absolutely defenseless, no amount of writhing helped as he teased you from your hardened nipples to your throbbing core.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He loves it when you get on top, taking control. Ray got to see your beautiful body on display, your breasts bouncing. He could run his hands up your thighs, grab your hips, give your clit some attention. It was the best of all the world’s possible.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s definitely serious about everything he does in the bedroom. What could start out as a fun, banter fueled makeout would always end in a heated round (or two) of sex. In fact, oddly enough the ones that started off light-heartedly ended up being the most passionate. Lots of shoulder and collarbone bites, hickeys on inner thighs, bruised hips.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ray likes to keep himself trimmed, but not completely bald. Sometimes he would leave a landing strip because you told him you think it’s sexy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You’ve never had a lover as romantic as Raymond Smith. He would run warm baths filled with your favorite washes and oils, sometimes adding in flower petals. His hands and lips learned and re-familiarized themselves with every square inch of your skin. He was always attentive, listening to cues spoken and unspoken about your desires, and fulfilling them well beyond your expectations.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Since you two have been together, he rarely needs to take care of himself anymore. But on the rare occasions that he does, he’s definitely thinking about that time he’d taken you in the backseat of his car. It was at the beginning of your relationship, and you’d just been on a date together. He lightly suggested continuing the fun at his place, and the tension was just too much to bear.

He would tug at his swollen cock, remembering how you couldn’t even make it inside. Right there in his driveway, you ripped his clothes off and rode him until your eyes brimmed with tears. It always brought him to his release faster than any round of sex he’d ever had.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking! Ray loved the way your ass bounced and reddened under his palm. He especially enjoyed the high pitched cries and sharp inhales you gave in response, not to mention how your juices coated your folds the more his hand met your flesh.

He was also very into gagging. Seeing your mouth stretched around the ball, full lips slick and swollen, his cock twitched at the thought alone.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He wasn’t awfully picky about where you had sex, but preferred it to be in his home. The room or surface it occurred in depended on his mood. Often, if he was frustrated, he’d take you standing, pressed against a wall in the corridor. When he’d come home and you’d just look too fuckable to resist, he’d give it to you on the dining table.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Ray didn’t have difficulty getting aroused. He could think about the way you chewed on your lip while scanning the book you were currently reading, or the way you ran the top of your right foot over the back of your left calf as you made tea and his pants would tighten.

If he was crossed with you, though, he was a hard shell to crack. Luckily, you knew all his soft spots, so you’d chip away at his walls one by one. Caressing behind his knees, tracing your hands up his back, biting the skin behind his ear. He fell apart every time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like most men, he’s not fond of having sex while you’re experiencing your time of the month. He also isn’t a fan of being called daddy (i just can’t see it lmfao!!).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It was 50/50, but only because you were so damn good at giving blowjobs. Other than that, he would lean more towards giving than receiving. Ray was as good as they got, he knew exactly how to lick and suck, when to pull and how hard. He reveled in feeling you twitch against his face, rubbing your core up and down, back arching as you tried to get as much out of him as possible.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the circumstances. If he didn’t have a lot of time, Ray liked to pin you to, or bend you over whatever surface was nearby and fuck the breath out of you. Otherwise, he liked to take his time with you. Ray preferred to worship your body, to feel your soft to his hard. He loved taking it slow because it gave him the opportunity to really soak in how lucky he was to be the one making you hiss and moan.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As a busy man, Ray was a fan of quickies. The pace, intensity, and rawness. It was the only sloppy, disorganized thing he liked in his life. They happened more than he liked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about that when he was driving in and out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely open to experimenting. Ray likes to ask you if there’s anything you’d like to try, and suggests a few things as well from time to time. He tried new positions often, bending you ways you wouldn't have known was possible unless he put you there.

There were times where he pushed the limits to see if you two would get caught. You nearly were that time you did it in Rosalind’s auto shop. Mickey was running late for a meeting and you made the mistake of bending over in that little black skirt. A few seconds more and his boss would’ve seen more of you than he cared for.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

There was never a time that he’d tapped out first. To you, his stamina knew no end. Ray’s record was four consecutive rounds, each somehow lasting longer than the last. If you had to guess, you’d say he averaged about twenty minutes for duration. If he really paced himself, he could make himself last up to an hour.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys, but you own a vibrator that he doesn’t mind incorporating from time to time. His favorite thing to do with it was pressing it onto your clit while he ate you out. He also enjoyed watching while you used it solo, how you’d get into it, swirling your hips and massaging your breasts as you neared your climax.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ray is a firm believer in foreplay, but doesn’t stall too much. Not unless you’ve done something to make him upset with you. Then he turns into the most sadistic asshole you’ve ever met. Your throat would be hoarse from crying out and begging, stomach cramped from him bringing you to the edge only to recede at the last moment. He’d look down at you, a hint of a smile on his lips at his handiwork of completely unraveling you before filling you up.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ray tends to be pretty quiet. He’s the most vocal when your lips are wrapped around him. Groans and grunts leave him as he hits the back of your throat and beyond. He also makes the most delightful noise, something between a moan and a sigh when your walls close in on his cock as you cum.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He onced asked if you wanted to try roleplaying. It did not go as expected. You couldn’t keep a straight face for more than a minute at a time, he was such a horrible actor. And the cowboy hat, as much as you thought it would turn you on in theory, only made you want to break out into fits of laughter.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It stunned you the first time you saw him naked. Ray was carved to perfection like a statue, his skin pulled taut over hills and valleys of muscle. Not to mention the length and width of his cock, it was literally the perfect size. Nine inches if you had to put a number to it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Ray has a slightly above average sex drive. He’s not bouncing off the walls horny, but he’s pretty much ready to go whenever and wherever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends on how long you take. Ray likes to comfort you until he feels your breathing even out. Only then is he ready to succumb to sleep himself.

#charlie hunnam #raymond smith x reader #ray smith x reader #raymond smith #the gentlemen #fics.n

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gtdanganronpa · 3 years

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3,5 Kirumi x Kiyo

Prompt: Kirumi and Ryoma switch heights. That's it. Kirumis 3'5.

Beauty, elegance, grace, determination. The ability to be able to complete any request that anyone asked of her. Her face looked smooth, and she had beautiful pastel green orbs for eyes. Her lips weren't too plump, but weren't thin either. A nice shade of pink that matched her skin. She seemed to almost always wear a smile on her face when around others.

The determination the woman had, combined with the beauty and elegance in all of her movements, all compressed into... 3'5.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just as judgmental as everyone else about the female's height at first. But- he quickly changed that. He knew first hand that you couldn't judge someone by how they look. The female was surprisingly motherly, and often seemed to intimidate the others as well. It was admirable.

"You want me to do what?" Kirumi frowned. It felt wrong. Very wrong.

"...look, we don't like it anymore than you do. But someone's gotta do it. He's admitted to slipping food poisoning into both Shuichi and Himiko's drink." Rantaro crossed his arms, speaking seriously.

"Awe, come on Kirumi." Kaede knelt down, giving her a reassuring smile. By God she hated that. 'Awe, come on Kirumi.' Kneeling down, talking to her as if she were some child. A child that needed to go to school and didn't wanna leave her mommy and daddy. She hated that. So much.

"Don't talk to me that way." Her anger and frustration wasn't visible in her words. It was just plain and simple. She hated it.

"...any one of us could kill." Ryoma mumbled, kicking his feet up on the table. "I don't think some food poisoning is enough to send someone into their room to spy on them." He huffed, seeming incredibly calm. "I'm a murdered. But there's no suspicion on me."

"But you don't have any murderous intent. At least here, right now." Kaede sighed, standing up straight. Insensitive. "Kiyo... has brought up many times about how he himself seems like a killer. And he's brought up many different murder methods he knows. Even if that is how he is at times, we don't know what could happen next. Please- just..." Kaede looked down at Kirumi.

While the taller male was (probably) peacefully asleep in his dorm, everyone had gathered at the dining hall. They wanted Kirumi to spy on him. Sneak into his room. She was picked because of her size no doubt. Either way, she didn't like it. Not one bit.

But... she felt she really had no choice. It was a request, in a way. And she always fulfilled almost every request of her.

It was very simple. The next morning, the tiny female stood beside Kiyo's door, to where when he opened it, he wouldn't see her since she was on the other side of it. It wasn't that hard to sneak into his room. He opened the door, and walked out, clueless to the fact she was there. Before he closed the door, she slipped into his room unnoticed.

"..." the male's room seemed identical to hers, though less tightly and more books, papers, and pencils laying around everywhere. She had the sudden urge to tidy everything up. But, she knew she couldn't.

She sighed. What was she supposed to look for in here, anyways? After glancing in some of the books, a lot of them seemed to be diaries of his travels. Interesting. She didn't read through all of them. She needed something from the here and now.

By now, the others and him should be in the dining hall, just saying that Kirumi wasn't feeling well so wasn't attending. She should have a solid 15 minutes before she'd have to hide again and slip out. A lot of food poison, blunt objects, but overall nothing that was actually lethal to anyone. Huh.

What did the male even do in here all the time? If he spent all his time writing down his experiences, he should have it in a journal somewhere. But there was no pattern to the dates of the journals. They were just scattered everywhere, disorganized. It was driving her crazy. She suddenly heard the door knob turn. What-? How was he back? There's no way it could've been more than 5 minutes.

Kirumi did the first thing that came to her mind and dived under the anthropologist's bed. She fit fine enough. Being small had its benefits, though she'd never imagined she'd have to worry about this. The door opened, then closed. Footsteps. She could see him walking over to his desk, seeming to move them aside. He simply took one out of the seemingly chaotic pile.

How did he just- know where it was? Unknown to Kirumi, there actually was a subtle system and pattern. She'd assumed that they were all chaotically and randomly placed, even though she should've realized Kiyo wasn't the sort to just toss stuff about.

Because of this, Kirumi misplaced certain things when she put journals back. They looked untouched, but once the dates were checked it was obvious they had been moved.

"...hm." The anthropologist let out a light hum. This wasn't his present day journal. This was something from the two years prior November. "....." he frowned. No, he most certainly wouldn't mix up anything like that. He liked to think he had a system and stuck to it. "That's odd..." he murmured.

What was odd? Did she mess up something? Crap...

He sighed. Perhaps... he just misplaced them. Sure, yeah. He quickly realized simply checking the spots where the books would be switched wouldn't work. Oh, wonderful! Now he'd have to reorganize all of them again. How frustrating.

"..." he murmured to himself as he sighed, deciding he should probably start by reorganizing everything. He gathered his books which were obviously weren't in order anymore. The neat chaos Kirumi thought she'd not have to worry about wasn't so chaotic after all. She'd messed it all up.

After realizing just how many were mixed up, though. He seemed to start to get suspicious. He let out a slight chuckle as she saw him lean down taking a bottle of food poisoning in his hands. "..." Kirumi froze. She was holding her breath. There's no possible way he'd know she was there, right? Maybe he thought someone snuck in and out and that was it. Why would he assume anyone was hiding under his bed?

What if he did find out it was her? That she messed up everything and snuck in his room? She knew she spoke of not assuming he'd kill someone because of food poisoning, but she couldn't help but worry herself.

His feet were turned in her direction. No, he didn't know. There's no way. Just calm down. If she didn't, she'd give herself away for sure.

He took a few steps towards the bed, before kneeling down. She watched as he just picked up some journals. Ah... ah... ok... she was safe. She wished she could sigh in relief, but him being right there, she couldn't. She just kept quiet, and kept still. She completely froze up once she saw his bandaged hand reach under the bed. She didn't even notice that some journals had been pushed under with her. He took out one or two, without coming into contact with her.

That was until she was practically poked in the eyes. Even if she didn't help, the fact he seemed to just poke something even though his hand wasn't even on the floor, so it couldn't be a journal, screwed her over entirely. On top of that, she'd jolted, hitting her head. W o w . Very nice.

Kiyo blinked a few times, kneeling down and peeking his head to look under his bed. "...." The small, tiny maid, rubbing her eyes which were watery from being poked. Once her vision cleared, she could see his surprised face staring back at her. Before it seemed his eyes curved in a smile. She couldn't tell what type of smile it was, or what the male was thinking.

"..." he let out a soft chuckle. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. He carefully wrapped his slender fingers around her small arm, pulling her out from under the bed. "..." awe, look at her. He just- he couldn't even be mad at her.

Oh, it was so obvious but so obscure at the same time that the male truly adored the smaller female. He admired every bit of her being. So what if she'd literally snuck into his room to invade his privacy? Lmao who cares lol?

"...may I inquire as to why you're here, exactly?" Well, of course he actually did care about the fact she'd snuck into his room. She messed up his stuff, after all. He wasn't as upset with her, though, as he would be if it were any other human being hiding under there.

"..." Kirumi couldn't come up with any excuse. She wanted to, she was trying to. She didn't want him to think she would spy on him, and it wasn't out of fear.

"Let me guess. The others asked you to spy on me, didn't they?" He turned to her. She still wasn't able to read his expression.

"...yes." She nodded, knowing it was pointless to lie.

"Well, I suppose the deed is done and there's no point in my getting angry with you about it." He stood up. 2 feet taller than her. "You will help me reorganize all of my journals." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't something Kirumi had a problem with. She messed them up, she'd fix them.

There were quite a lot, and the male wanted to go through some of them a little, and such. It ended up taking most of the day. Once they finally finished, Kiyo checked all around his room for extra journals. "Well, it seems that's all. Hm?"

He blinked in surprise. He'd merely turned his back to the female for maybe a minute, and she seemed passed out on the floor. Unknown to him, the female hadn't really been sleeping well, and had been overworking herself for everyone else's sake. So, naturally, she'd pass out. Someone at such a small size shouldn't be overwhelming themselves so much anyways.

He didn't have her key to her room, and no idea where it would even be. He simply lifted the female up in his arms, and laid her down in his own bed, pulling the blanket over it. She seemed quite comfortable. It was nice to see the female relaxed and asleep. Ah, he probably shouldn't watch. That's weird. He simply went and got ready for bed himself. He normally didn't sleep with a mask on but given the fact there was another person not only in his room but in his bed, he put on a more comfortable cloth mask.

He sighed as he laid down in the bed, his soft golden eyes resting on the peaceful female. He admired her, greatly. Such elegance, patience, capability, determination, beauty. Perfection. All in a singular being. She really was perfect. "..." he knew his sister was angry with him about how much he truly did care for Kirumi. But he didn't care.

He frowned her out, closing his eyes, and slowly falling asleep.

#g/t #gtronpa #danganronpa #drv3 #korekiyo shinguji #sfw g/t #g/t au #kirumi tojo #kaede akamatsu #ryoma hoshi #kirukiyo

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actualbird · 4 years

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nobody asked but here are my personal top five pat gill videos | a 2.1k word long post where i rank and review pat gill’s videos for just way too long.

Right around the tail end of April, 2020, I fell into the rabbit hole of my current obsession; Polygon Dot Com Video Content. As a consequence of this was being introduced to the phenomenon of Pat Gill. A dire consequence of that consequence was me slowly, deeply, irrevocably, finding myself attracted to this marionette of a man. So, I enjoy his content and I think he’s hot and that combined with the fact that some of my friends bully me over that latter fact has inspired me to do this: rank my personal favorite Pat Gill videos in a post that’s entirely too long.

Before I get straight into the rankings, I need to explain my process.

First, I needed to narrow my scope. Polygon has a lot of videos. Polygon has a lot of videos with Pat Gill in them. If I didn’t narrow my scope, I would either go bonkers yonkers or have a list that would be kilometric in length and thus miss the entire point of ranking altogether. So, for my sanity, I am excluding any videos that are a part of a Polygon video series. This means no Overboard, no Gill and Gilbert, no Video Game Theatre, etc. If I included these, I would cry. I do not want to cry over Polygon Dot Com Video Producer Pat Gill.

Second, I need a criteria. If I just ranked videos with no system, I would find myself endlessly rearranging my list based on whatever thought comes out on top in my mind at the given moment. I am a disorganized person, so I need rules. I have decided that I will rank Pat Gill videos using the EEEH criteria.

Entertainment. Do I smile, watching the video? Do I chortle? Am I filled with the embarrassing urge to show this video to my sister and derive glee from her laughing at the exact same moment I laughed? Entertainment is key.

Education. Did I come out of this video knowing something I originally did not know? More importantly, was I engaged in the learning process? I come from a family of teachers, so I have high standards when it comes to education. If I am to learn, I must learn well.

Exaltation. This is a bit of an oddball criteria, but it is important to me. The word “exalted” is defined as “elevated in rank, character, or status.” This criteria refers to how good it is at exalting, elevating, pulling me out of a depressive episode. That is to say I’ve been in a depressive episode for the past month and whether or not the video made me stop crying and brush my teeth is essential. Polygon video content has been integral to my serotonin production lately, and thus the video’s ability of acting as an audiovisual antidepressant for me factors into the rankings.

[BONUS POINTS] Hotness. How Hot Is Pat Gill In It? I felt bad, morally, ranking videos based on how good looking I thought Pat Gill was in it---because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that, and people don’t exist to be beautiful, they just are, and I agree---so I’m relegating this criteria as a bonus point. Standard is 0, because he’s always hot in my mind, but he gets plus points if he is exemplary in the hotness department.

The maximum score for each of these criteria is 5 points, making the perfect score a 15, but because of the bonus points, a 20 is, hypothetically, possible.

With that out of the way, let me dive right into it.

5. The fastest interview ever with Ben Schwartz from Sonic the Hedgehog

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 2 Exaltation: 2 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 11

Pat Gill is a good interviewer, he’s engaging and fun and keeps the interview interesting, but this interview is particularly special because it seems that, and let me quote Youtube user AudreyN who left a comment on this video stating “ben schwartz consumed all seven chaos emeralds prior to this interview.” Pat Gill and Ben Schwartz’s dynamic is amazing, and by “dynamic” I do mean “Ben Schwartz absolutely just fucking dunking on Pat Gill for 14 entire minutes.” and it is glorious.

For Entertainment this scores a solid 5. Quite honestly the funniest interview I’ve ever watched in my entire life. Just the sheer beauty in the exchange [Pat] “You would use Sonic’s power to gaslight me?” [Ben] “Just you.” In terms of Education, I guess I did learn a bunch of things about the Sonic movie that I didn’t know before, but the avenue by which it was portrayed in was not exactly the most engaging, more like I was absorbing it via watching two experts discuss on a webinar. I would have given just 1 point to Education but I made it 2 because of the wonderful knowledge that Pat Gill can draw a pretty good Sonic in a few seconds. When it comes to Exaltation, I must admit that while this video got quite a few laughs out of me, it didn’t make me want to get out of bed and take a shower.

BONUS: Pat is +2 hot in it. His short hair makes him look very handsome. He’s a spiffy boy, in this video. Very, very good.

4. Pat Will Not Tweet at Nintendo This Week Because He is Resting at Home — PLEASE RETWEET, Episode 12

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 0 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +1 Total Score: 11

I know I’m breaking a rule I set for myself a few paragraphs earlier by including an episode of Please Retweet, which counts as a video series, but this is my post and I can do whatever I want. More importantly, this video is so fucking funny to me, it feels like it would be a crime not to put it in this list.

Solid 5 out of 5 for entertainment. Pat Gill, alone in his apartment, drinking six cans of what I think is beer silently while the intro music plays. That scene in itself should win an Oscar. Sadly, a solid 0 for Education, because I learn nothing in this video except for the fact that Pat Gill is the type of person to put out a coaster and then just completely not use it. I quantify things as educational if I can maybe answer a trivia question with them, and unfortunately, this fact does not pass that test. In terms of Exaltation, seeing Pat Gill lie down on the floor next to his cat made me get out of bed to do the same with my dog, and with myself thusly out of my bed cocoon of sadness, I was able to actually complete tasks on the day I watched this video. Perfect 5.

BONUS: Pat is +1 hot in this because there’s something very beautiful about him being a little bit miserable. However, I do miss his beard when I watch this video. It is one of my favorite things about him, and it is not present here.

3. Pat and Simone Play Human: Fall Flat

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 1 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: 0 Total Score: 11

I very much enjoy Polygon’s gameplay streams. I often play them in the background while I’m doing other stuff like doodling or origami, but this stream is special. It is special because of the moment at 24:00 when Pat Gill, in game, swings a stereo into a glass window, shattering it, while saying, “Actually, y’know what? Let’s talk about trauma.” and then proceeds to tell a horrible and embarrassing story from his childhood where he had to do a rap about Ancient Egypt.

5 points for Entertainment. This is partly because of Pat’s tragic childhood story about the Egypt Rap (and, segue just to point out 33:22 the incredible moment where you can hear Pat’s feral panic when Simone finds the lyrics to the Egypt Rap) but also because Pat and Simone just talking to each other is so deeply entertaining to me in a very comfy way. I’m starved for human interaction, in this quarantime, okay. Let me enjoy listening to other people have conversations while playing video games. Education scores a 1 because, again, nothing in this video will let me answer a trivia question, however it does get 1 point and not a 0 because the Egypt Rap’s lyrics are in the comments and I did end up learning stuff about Ancient Egypt that I didn’t know. A perfect 5 for Exaltation because this video showed me that talking about trauma can actually be cathartic, given that you’re trashing a video game living room at the same time, and I think that message of not bottling up your experiences really helped me, in these trying times.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for the entirety of this episode, so he scores the standard 0. I’m sure he was hot. We just couldn’t see him.

2. Why Bloodborne and Muppets are the same thing

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Entertainment: 4 Education: 4 Exaltation: 3 Hotness: +2 Total Score: 12

Ah yes, one of Pat’s “x is y because of z” videos. He’s made a number of these and they’re all very good but this one is my favorite among them and earns a spot on this list because 1) I think puppets are cool and 2) I fucking love monsters.

This video scores a 4 on Entertainment, just shy of perfect, because as funny as it is, it also gives me the vibe like I am being lectured by a professor who’s just a little bit off the shits. And we all know that lectures are supposed to be taken seriously. Which brings us to Education, which also scores a 4. I learned a lot in this video! Watching Pat Gill explain to me that children’s puppets and these horrifying viddy game monsters use the same character principles in different ways is not only very educational but is also explained in a streamline and easy to understand manner that I WISH some of the shitty professors at my old university could emulate. As for Exaltation, while this video did give me enough energy to have a meal, I did eventually end up back in bed for the night at 8pm crying myself to sleep, thinking “I’m like the slime scholar. Used to be a scholar. Now they’re slime.”

BONUS: Pat Gill is +2 hot here. He’s rockin that basic ass monochromatic aesthetic and I love his look dearly.

1. Preparing for Big Boy Season in Red Dead Redemption 2

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Entertainment: 5 Education: 3 Exaltation: 5 Hotness: +3 Total Score: 16

Here we are. My favorite non video series Pat Gill video. The video where Pat Gill tries to make Red Dead Redemption 2 protagonist, Arthur Morgan, large.

Perfect fucking 5 for Entertainment, which I’m sure many may find odd. Afterall, this video is told in a serious investigative tone reminiscent of Vox’s videos on current issues. But that’s the glory of it. The complete and utter ‘playing it straight and serious’ for a ridiculous issue in a video game. It is high tier comedy in a subtle, understated way that sings to my comedy loving heart in a melody so lovely, so wonderful, that it urged me to give this video 5 points for Entertainment. It scores 3 on Education, because I have never played Red Dead Redemption 2, nor will I ever, but now I know things about it. The information was also relayed to me in a very interesting style, via something like a crime procedural, and thus it was engaging for me to absorb all this new knowledge. Exaltation scores a perfect 5 because of this video’s beautiful end about existential smallness. No joke, but hearing Pat Gill say “Our bigness isn’t measured in pounds, but in the impact we have on the people with whom we shared the world.” deadass made me want to talk to my friends again after conversationally isolating myself for 3 days. Preparing for Big Boy Season has a special place in my heart. And there it will stay.

BONUS: Pat Gill is not visible for most of the video but he does appear for like 15 seconds in the middle of it, and guess what. He’s hot. +3 hotness. Good beardage, good hair, all in all, good Pat Gill.

So there you have it. My five favorite Pat Gill videos. If you read this whole thing, holy shit. You’re welcome, I guess.

#this is what im using my degree in creative writing for i guess #polygon #pat gill #pat gill thirst jail #patrick gill #nobody asked but

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the-melting-world · 3 years

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Coco’s (Temp) Pirate Bios

Sorry this is very disorganized right now. Just a bunch of random info. I’m not going to present these ocs in the typical arcana-style bio format because 1. they are still hatching & 2. I don’t really know how integrated they will be in the Arcana universe.

Here’s a teaser for the ring-leader, Sun Bai. The rest is below the cut!

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Sun Bai, AKA “Mantis”

He/Him

Nicknames

Bai

Mantis - used by his enemies/rivals/potential employers

“Sun” is technically his surname, so when someone addresses him as such, he becomes very suspicious of the formality

Age: 31

Occupation: bounty hunter, wannabe con artist

Abilities: dysfunctional psychic

Appearance:

Face claim: Yoshi Sudarso

Ethnicity/Coding: Chinese-Vietnamese

Combination of East & Southeast Asian features – skin is on the darker side

Long salt & pepper hair (mostly salt) dark roots, wears it in a half bun or half ponytail, dark sideburns

He’s near-sighted as fuck and also very sensitive to sunlight, so you’ll almost never see him without a pair of round, shaded glasses that are honestly, too damn big for his face.

Has a septum piercing made out of jade stone

Bridge piercing also made from jade

There’s a beauty mark up by his left eye. Not usually visible with his hair and glasses in the way

Tall! 6’5

Very dark slate gray eyes. They look black most of the time. They are said to look like salt and pepper in the moonlight only

Fashion style/influences - punk-grunge era skater kid meets bodhisattva on rumspringa (working on putting together a moodboard so this makes more sense)

Personality

Professional Brat

whiny, complains constantly

cheapass motherfucker

a bit of a control freak (but in a very lazy, chaotic way)

paranoid as fuck

nervous, antsy, but tries his best to suppress it around new people

Clumsy!!! Seriously, if you know Bai is about to pay you a visit, you should go ahead and baby-proof the place

Good qualities???

He’s generous with people he cares about, very stingy with everyone else

He’s persistent, tenacious, doesn’t believe in quitting, tends to give out tough love peptalks that no one asked for. He doesn’t really do it because he cares, he just enjoys giving people a good kick in the ass if they need it

Knows a little kung-fu – specializes in Northern Praying Mantis style (but really sucks at it.)

The reason he’s called Mantis is actually because he can read minds and get close enough to gut/rob/catch you

Not very affectionate. He doesn’t like to be touched. He only touches out of necessity

Sun Bai has two sides. His daytime self is very paranoid, whiny and callous. But at night he calms down. He’s more lighthearted and relaxed. He also becomes more reclusive at this time. He goes without his glasses because his eyes work better in the dark, but there can be no modern light or even firelight present whatsoever

Shippable? Yes, but not very emotionally available. He doesn’t spend the night. He doesn’t cuddle. He indulges with you and then he’s gone. Hint: the best time to ask him out is after the sun goes down.

Trinkets

A bamboo quarterstaff (mostly for show and to keep people from touching him. He can’t fight worth shit. Currently trying to learn a little wushu to pair with his psychic abilities)

His glasses. They are always cracked, loose, or straight up broken. He’ll wear them anyway until his next appointment with Sascha.

***

Sascha the Oculist

She/Her

Nicknames – None really. Bai calls her “Cheza” sometimes, but that’s for him only

Occupation – Sun Bai’s oculist and unofficial personal manager/stylist

Since Bai is always accidentally breaking his glasses on the job, he decided to hire his oculist full time. He pays her handsomely. Loves to treat her to dinner whenever he can.

Sun Bai doesn’t ever try to read her mind, but they seem to have a language of their own

Abilities – some healing, but she hasn’t taken the time to develop it. Mostly relies on it to make her patients comfortable if she has to go poking at their eyes.

Appearance

Ethnicity/Coding: Filipina & Black

Height: 5’4

short, curly dark hair

dark brown eyes, wears glasses

always wearing dark lipstick. has different shades, but usually rocks a dark plum

Fashion style/influences - comfortable eclectic. Starchy solid button-downs, flowy, practical maxi skirts, soft ankle boots. Wears a shitload of jewelry in the form of rings, necklaces, bracelets and anklets from all over the world. Sun Bai always brings them back for her from his travels. Sascha never turns anything down and will find a way to incorporate it into her ensemble

Personality

Reserved, soft-spoken, very professional

Driven and focused

Comes off a little cold and distant. When she’s healing, she doesn’t have very good bedside manner either.

A woman of few words, she chooses her timing wisely. With that being said, her words can cut

Cares a great deal for Sun Bai, but will call him out for his dumbassery with a single look

Shippable? Technically yes, but she’s very career focused and ahem a little “biased” if you know what I mean. yeah she’s definitely in love but also denial with her boss whoops

Sascha is the only one of the temp pirates who is from Vesuvia! She has her office in the Heart District.

***

Rosario, AKA Mestra Adrenaline

She/Her

Nicknames

Don’t call her “Rosario” or you will get clocked. Period.

She goes by Rio, Adrenaline, or her full professional title

Only Bai and Sascha call her “Nali”

Age: 34

Occupation – freelance bodyguard. Currently works for Sun Bai

Abilities – A black belt (Mestre) in Storm Capoeira (also known as Capoeira Tempestade) Think Last Airbender’s Princess Azula’s style of lightning-redirection/firebending mixed with Brazilian dance-fighting. If it sounds very cool to watch, believe me, it is.

Appearance

PINK HAIR BITCHESSSS

She’s always wearing her hair in some kind of funky, playful style. Most of the time it’s two braided pigtails

Ethnicity/Coding: Afro-Latina

Height: 5’10

Though her skin is on the fairer side, her features lean Afro-centric, hair texture is a mixture of 3a, 3c, 3b. She wears it braided to keep it out of the way, but when she’s off the clock and going somewhere nice, she styles it into something that shows off her big and glam wave-curls

Dimple piercings!

Solid, curvy, tall (She’s basically my fantasy version of Megan Thee Stallion ok?)

Lots of power/strength in her legs and ass. She has to rely on her lower body a lot to perform Capoeira

Fashion style/influences – bubblegum pop streetwear with a touch of diy glam

Personality

LOUD.

Boisterous, energetic, playful, scrappy

She’s the most high maintenance of the three. One of the things she and Bai bond over

If you look up the phrase “Work hard, play harder,” Rio’s headshot is right next to it

A proud party animal. She can’t help herself. Once she’s had one drink, she will go hard and probably end up face down, ass up by the end of the night

Fiercely loyal. She doesn’t play around when it comes to people she cares about or even her clients. She will absolutely die for them.

With that being said, good luck trying to kill her. She’s built like a mountain.

Shippable? Yes, but she takes her job very seriously, so that will always be a priority. With that being said, Rio is definitely the most emotionally available of the three.

#so those are my pirates #i don't know where this is going but hey #they live #my ocs #sun bai #sascha the oculist #mestra adrenaline #coco's pirates

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softbiker · 4 years

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Born to Run - Chapter 17

Warnings: angst, alcohol abuse, anxiety, heartbreak, police violence (potentially triggering encounter, please heed the warning), language

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Well, here it is. All I can do is say...I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll fix it. I decided to go ahead and post this tonight because I haven’t gotten to write much lately, I’ve been working constantly and now I’ve got a second job - so I just love getting to write and post when I can. Thank you for sticking with this story. It’s almost a year old now! As always, let me know what you think!!

“I dunno, Mom - I mean it’s not like I planned this-”

“Well, no, honey,” her mother huffed over the phone. “It doesn’t seem like you planned any of it.”

Y/N winced at the sting of her words but didn’t argue. With her phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, she grabbed another stack of underwear and socks from the dresser and turned back towards her bed, where a suitcase lay open. A few pairs of jeans and a couple of sweaters were already folded inside. Off to one side, her toiletry bag was stuffed full - skincare and toothpaste and hair products she might not even use but tossed in anyway in her flustered packing frenzy. Her grip on the socks in her hands tightened to keep her fingers from trembling.

It had been 2 days since her fight - breakup - with Bucky. For the first 24 hours, she fell into an anxious, disorganized catatonia; she shuffled from room to room in her house, pacing and biting her nails, opening cabinets at random then promptly closing them. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, and her heart raced at a breakneck pace. If a single clear thought managed to arrange itself from the scattered clutter of her panic, it was only Bucky’s face, red-eyed and tear-stained as he pleaded with her. After splashing some water on her face and changing into sweatpants, she had put herself to bed, settling in for the longest night of her life. She tossed and turned, hearing the minutes tick by from the clock on the wall. At around 3 am, she threw off the covers in heartbroken frustration and stalked to the kitchen, setting the kettle on for tea and raiding her cabinets for any treats she could find. Thank God she still had that fancy dark chocolate she’d gotten last time she went to the city; it was the only thing her cupboards could provide in the way of comfort food. Armed with a steaming cup of lavender chamomile and an entire half-pound of dark chocolate she settled back under the covers and grabbed the T.V. Remote from her nightstand. If nothing else, she prayed Netflix could distract her, fill her mind with different faces, different voices - drown out the one that wouldn’t leave her.

She managed to doze off towards the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, tearful confessions playing in the background of her not-quite-dreams, and woke just before 7. A cold, clear morning greeted her through the window, the air in her room practically frigid, but something in it settled her. Quieted the static that had blurred out all thought since Bucky walked through her door the day before. With a deep breath, she threw off the covers and swung her feet out of bed, leaving the tea cup and chocolate wrapper to deal with later. It was her running shoes she reached for.

An hour and 10 kilometers later, she jogged back up her front porch steps, breathing heavy and feeling light. Her cheeks were charted from the wind, and her nose was running, but the grip on her heart had shaken loose. And as she clambered into the shower, stinging hot and billowing steam, new thoughts began to string together - thoughts for tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.

Still in sweatpants, hair dripping, she’d scribbled down a list while she sipped her coffee. Names, to-do’s, a seed of a plan. In order, she phoned the clinic, her best friend, her residency program coordinator - and now, at last, her mom.

“I’m driving up to stay with Kat for a few days - maybe a week,” Y/N sighed, ignoring her mom’s comment. “Just to…clear my head, you know?”

“Sure, sure,” her mom agreed. “Though I don’t know why you couldn’t come here…I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving-”

“Mom.” She closed her eyes, one hand settled on her hip. “It’s not a vacation.”

“No, sweetie, but it doesn’t hurt to come let your mom take care of you…”

Knuckles pressed to her eyelids, Y/N sat down on the edge of her bed. The old mattress creaked, as it had every night she slept in it for the last several months.

“I-I just,” she licked her dry lips and tried to swallow. “I need to be alone for a little bit, Mom. Once I’ve got it all figured out, I’ll let you know. And maybe…who knows, maybe I can come visit soon.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice on the phone is tired, resigned. “Why do you always try to do these things by yourself? You don’t have to be alone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants. She breathed slowly, warding back the lump that threatened to close off her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mom. But this time I do.”

**********

“You’ve got to go in there and wake him up-”

“I’m not doing it - I wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot pole when he’s like this.”

“Well, someone’s got to. We’re bugging out in just a couple days-”

Heavy-eyed, and feeling like death warmed over, Bucky stirred at the sound of the voices outside his bedroom. Harsh winter sunlight burst through the blinds over his window; even before he opened his eyes it hurt. Something throbbed inside his skull, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his parched mouth. Why the hell did he feel this bad? He couldn’t remember the last time he drank like this, to the point of blacked out nausea. His stomach roiled as he turned over, and he felt far too old to be drinking like there was no tomorrow, like he hated himself-

And then he remembered.

Y/N.

Suddenly he had no interest in getting up, getting water, getting something that would settle his stomach. He covered his face with his hands, fingers pressing firm against his eyelids and blocking out any light that came through. It was hot in his room, the combination of heating and a pile of blankets that someone had tucked him in with, but he didn’t move the covers, choosing instead to sweat underneath them.

How had he fucked up so badly? The best thing that ever happened to him - and now she was gone, baby, gone. It would’ve been alright, maybe, if Natasha had allowed him to talk to Y/N himself, but-

Natasha. Just the thought of her set his blood on fire, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes flying open - only to immediately regret it as a stronger wave of nausea threatened to claim him. He quickly folded himself in half and put his head between his knees. When his head finally stopped spinning, he propped his elbows up against his knees and threaded his hands through his hair.

Already, he felt a thread of shame and guilt tugging at his gut. It wasn’t right to blame Natasha. He knew that. The lies were all his own; all Nat had done was reveal the truth.

But, God, the look on Y/N’s face - she had never looked at him that way, not even in the beginning when she was afraid he might be a criminal. It chilled him - right down to the marrow of his bones - the cold anger, the mask of disgust and disinterest that she wore to hide the way she hurt. And she did - he could see her pain cracking the ice in her eyes, no matter how she tried to hide it.

He hated himself for it.

A soft knock at the door, and Steve’s blond head poked in.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows jumping in surprise. “You’re awake.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened as Steve and Sam kindly let themselves into his room and took up post at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah - thanks to you two. You wouldn’t know how to whisper if your life depended on it, Wilson.”

To his credit, Sam didn’t respond - merely rolled his eyes and cast an exasperated glance at Steve. With a sigh, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes down on the soft blue quilt Bucky had haphazardly wrinkled during the night.

“Look, I understand that you’re really upset right now.” Steve’s voice was soft, barely more than a murmur. “I know…I know how much she meant to you.”

Bucky felt his eyes starting to burn as he stared at his friends, and he hastily scrubbed at them with his palms, sniffing.

“But,” Steve continued, licking his lip. “We’ve got our marching orders - we’re on standby to pull out any day now. We - I - can’t have you going on binders, AWOL for 24 hours, and then stumbling in here piss drunk at 3 in the morning.”

“We thought you were dead, Barnes,” Sam added, clenching his jaw. “We’re on fuckin’ suicide watch, man. You’re gonna drink yourself to death over a breakup? Huh?”

Growling, Bucky reached behind himself for a pillow and hurled it at Sam’s head.

“Shut the fuck up-”

“No, Buck, Sam is right.” Steve’s brows were knitted together tightly. His eyes were sympathetic, but the rest of him was unflinching as stone. “You can’t do that again. What if you’d run yourself off the road, or gotten hit by a car?” Bucky scoffed, but Steve didn’t back down. Raising his voice he went on. “No, I really want you to think - would you be better off dead? Is that what you want? Is that what she would want?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Bucky saw her face right before him once again, her smiles, the way she used to look at him. The panic in her eyes during his parking lot showdown with Rumlow, the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating on something, how sleepy her eyes were in the mornings - each little piece of her, precious secrets he had tucked away in the hidden corners of his heart. He had thought, dreamed, that he had a lifetime to collect them all, fit all her parts together like a puzzle one piece at a time, and love every moment of it. Now, though. These lone pieces are all he has left, and they will never be enough.

What did she want? He knew only one thing for sure - that she was the only person who could say.

“I don’t think it matters to her either way, punk.”

**********

A few miles outside of town, just past the last lonely gas station, was the exit ramp to the interstate. The road had seen better years; the pavement was pitted with potholes and cracks, haphazardly patched with uneven lumps of asphalt that left drivers weaving between lanes and wondering which would do more damage to their tires. But, since this part of the state saw less traffic than other areas, infrastructure money was slow to trickle down towards repair and reconstruction.

Y/N had driven this road a handful of times - as she moved into town, and then when she had taken the drive a couple of times to visit her friends in the city. It was desolate enough to be a slightly depressing drive; nothing but scorched fields for miles on either side of the road, and the steep ditches that banked it on either side were overgrown with wispy stalks of dead grass. Overhead, a grey and overcast sky shadowed everything, promising a winter day best spent indoors.

She tuned in and out of a true crime podcast while she drove, hardly seeing the road in front of her. Her mind was too far gone on the events of the past few days - and everything she had to do with the coming ones. But there was something comforting here, in the grip of the wheel in her hands, a travel mug of coffee still steaming in the cupholder, an open road ahead of her. She felt…awake, present. Bruised, but not broken. And ready to get back up.

Of course, it shook her when a cop car pulled out of the overgrowth on the shoulder of the exit ramp, putting on speed to keep up with her. Mentally she reviewed her driving - still only 5 over the speed limit, her lights were on and working, her tags were in date. They had no reason to pull her over, she rationalized.

And they didn’t. The car stayed right behind her for the next 10 miles, quietly driving at her speed, keeping a couple car lengths’ distance between. No flashing lights, no sirens.

So why were her palms sweating?

After 20 miles, the sirens finally started blaring, blue and red flashes blinking in her rearview mirror. Despite being raised to respect the law, she felt nervous as she glanced back at the car, easing her foot off the accelerator, but not quite braking to pull over. She bit her lip, hesitating another few seconds as the alarm grew louder behind her. Her stomach clenched nervously.

Stop freaking out. You’re just worried about getting a ticket. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she scolded herself and gently pulled her car over to the side of the road, careful not to get too far into the muddy grass along the shoulder. Fingers fidgeting nervously on the steering wheel, she watched as the officer got out of his car and strolled up to her window at a leisurely pace. His head was shaved, and he wore dark mirrored sunglasses, in spite of the gloomy light of the day. As she rolled down her window, she squinted at his face, trying to recognize him from the adrenaline-blurred memories of the night Bucky killed Brock Rumlow - but the low slope of his cheekbones, the clean-shave, the firm-set frown are all unfamiliar to her.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted her, one hand on his hip. It drew her eyes down towards his gun. “License and registration please.”

Instinctively, she nodded and reached towards her wallet lying in the passenger seat to dig out her license. The officer was silent, propping one hand against her car while he waited; she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and willed herself to calm down.

Clearing her throat, she gathered her courage and spoke up.

“Excuse me, officer-” He barely glanced up from where he was perusing her car registration. “Why did you pull me over?”

He looked up at her fully at the question, shifting his stance and licking his upper lip.

“One of your tail lights is out,” he said, shoving her papers back through the window. “That’s a real safety issue.”

“My tail light…?” Her tail light - which had been changed only a month ago. She knew, because Bucky did it himself. He had always been worried about her safety; every time she was going somewhere without him, he did a full inspection of the car, testing brakes and changing the oil, going over every last inch of it and then filling up the tank with gas before she left. Last time, she’d sat in the garage nursing a cup of cider as she watched him fiddle with the lights…

She shook her head to lose the thoughts of him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but my tail lights are working just fine, I just had the bulbs changed.” She leaned forward in the seat, peering up at the officer. “Are you sure that there’s something wrong with them?”

Frown deepening even further, he crossed his arms and widened his stance.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car?”

“Excuse me?”

“Get out of the car, ma’am.”

“What? Why?”

“Please, just calm down and get out of the vehicle.”

“But-” her protest broke off as he shifted his stance back, one hand inching towards the mace in his belt. She glanced at her phone, sitting in the unoccupied cupholder with her aux cable connected to it. Her fingers twitched - for a microsecond, she contemplated the very bad idea of reaching for it, refusing to get out of the car, calling-calling…someone. Someone.

But surely, if she cooperated, this would all be worked out with just a minor headache, or maybe a ticket, she reassured herself. She repeated it in her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, climbing out of the car carefully, her hands held out to her sides where they could be seen.

Once she was out of her car, the officer took a step forward and pushed on her door, shutting it with a resounding click.

“Okay, I’m out of the car…”

“Turn around and put your hands on the hood.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she exclaimed, hearing her voice hitch in alarm. Her eyes cast up the road and back towards the exit ramps - there were no other cars in sight. No witnesses. “Am I under arrest?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, out of patience. His hand went to rest on his gun now. “Turn around and put your fucking hands on the hood of the car.”

Her fists curled and she stood her ground. She willed away her thoughts of Bucky.

“No. I haven’t broken the law, you can’t arrest me for having a tail light out-”

In a blink, his gun was up and trained directly on her.

“Put your hands on the fucking car!” he yelled, loud enough to make her wince at the volume. Her thoughts tunneled on the barrel of the gun aimed at her chest.

Wordlessly, she turned and planted her hands on the cold metal, shivering in just her sweatshirt, her winter coat tossed in the passenger seat while she was driving. The tips of her fingers went numb and her eyes watered, stung by the wind. Her dry tongue pressed against the backs of her teeth - if she tried to swallow she’d choke.

“Who are you?” Her voice shook, but she managed the words. Scared and alone, but she’d fight, goddammit. She’d fight. He would want her to fight. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“Shut up.” A firm, cold point of pressure between her shoulder blades as he pressed the gun against her back. There was a faint buzzing sound and then the rustle of fabric; when he spoke again, it clearly wasn’t to her. “Yes, sir?” He answered his phone. “Yes - we’re on schedule. I have the package. Will confirm when its secure and en route.”

Her heart raced wildly and her mind went white with fear. What was he talking about? This had to be some kind of mistake, a misunderstanding-

Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the butt of his gun came down against the back of her head; her vision exploded in stars, and then faded to black as she slumped against her car. Barely conscious, she felt herself being dragged away down the road, lifted and shoved into the backseat of the squad car, unceremoniously dumped with her face down against the cold leather. The engine hummed to life; a seatbelt clicked - not hers.

“Sir?” He spoke again from the front seat. “Package is secured.”

She wondered if Bucky was coming to find her. He would, she told herself. He’d come.

And then, nothing.

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