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separatist-apologist · 3 years

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Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra meta #anti e*riel #antiv*ssien #anti el/riel #anti v/ssien #theories that are just not based in reality #but are probably interesting twists in a fanfic i wouldn't read

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watch-grok-brainrot · 3 years

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A Good Sword

Written for @mdzsnet 1 year net anniversary event. Request sent in by @susuwatari-kompeito

Rated: G

Word Count: 4392

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Suibian (Módào Zǔshī), Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, OC character mentions

Other tags: Post-Canon, sentient weapons, cw blood, cw injury, Night Hunt, Yunmeng, Post-Canon, Established Relationship WangXian, Gusu, Jiang Cheng being difficult, I stan the least Lan of Lans who also happens to be the best Lan, food mentioned

Summary: Wei Wuxian is forming a golden core in Mo Xuanyu's body. He realizes this means he can wield Suibian again but Lan Wangji reminds him it's with Jiang Cheng in Yunmeng. Their help is requested to subdue supernatural disturbances on Mushan Island so Wangxian head there with some juniors. During the night hunt, they run into Jiang Cheng who happens to have Suibian with him. How will Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian resolve who gets to keep the sword?

Thank you @merelhyn and Aube for the beta!

[Gusu, Cloud Recesses]

A warm spring breeze drifted through the bamboo forest outside the Jingshi, rustling the leaves. As the wind ebbed and flowed, the rustling rose and fell, mimicking the sound of ocean waves. The soothing sound of the bamboo served as stark contrast to the stillness of the Jingshi. Cool sandalwood smoke curled up from a small ceramic incense burner, tumbling up and dissipating into the air. Lan Wangji knelt before his desk with his back straight and shoulders relaxed. A small mountain of letters piled to his right. Three stacks sat neatly to his left. He took a letter from the pile to his right, skimmed it twice with his pale colored eyes, and carefully set it in the appropriate pile to his left. The sandalwood smoke continued to rise as Lan Wangji methodically moved through his work. Only the occasional crinkling of paper and the wave-like sound of bamboo could be heard. The stillness was interrupted when Wei Wuxian charged into the building. Lan Wangji looked up at the sound of quick footsteps. “Lan Zhan! Look what I noticed today!” Wei Wuxian shoved his wrist in front of Lan Wangji. His shirt was half open, showing his bare chest, and his cheeks flushed from exercise. “Mn?” Lan Wangji asked, setting down the letter he was reading. He looked up at Wei Ying’s face and then his gaze drifted to Wei Ying's bare chest. “Feel, Lan Zhan! Feel my pulse!” Wei Wuxian waved his wrist in front of Lan Wangji’s face as he plopped down next to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji caught the flailing limb, set Wei Ying’s hand gently onto the desk, and pressed his fingers against the other man’s pulse. Wei Ying beamed as Lan Wangji assessed his pulse, feeling along the paths of the shorter man’s meridians. Lan Wangji’s qi was met with Wei Ying’s own energy and ferried to Wei Ying’s core. A golden core was forming inside his Wei Ying at last. “It’s coalescing.” “Yes! And at a decent pace too! Before you know it, I’ll be able to fight with a sword again! Are you looking forward to sparring with me?” “Mn,” Lan Wangji felt the corner of his lips pull back slightly. “Hey, Lan Zhan, speaking of swords, do you know what happened to Suibian? I haven’t seen it for months. Did I misplace it somewhere in Jingshi?” “Jiang Wanyin has it.” “What? Since when?” “When we left Yunmeng.” “Huh. I don’t remember this.” “Do you remember Jin Guangyao provoking Jiang Wanyin about the core transfer?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted up towards the ceiling briefly. “He could pull Suibian from its sheath. I remember that now! Hm… I wonder if he’s planning on keeping it or if…” Wei Wuxian trailed off as he turned around and leaned against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Lan Zhan, were you working this morning?” “Perusing correspondence. I should continue,” Lan Wangji responded as he wrapped his left arm around Wei Ying. He placed a kiss on the other man’s hair and breathed in — musk from exercising, dust from outside, pine resin, and hint of prickly spice. “Wei Ying always smells good.” The other man laughed. “You always smell good too, Lan er-gege.” Always active, Wei Ying reached towards Lan Wangji’s desk. “Lan Zhan, watcha reading now?” “We received a letter seeking help from Wuhu Gong Sect.” “Wuhu? Where is that?” “Between Gusu and Yunmeng, east of Hefei.” “What did they want?” “Disturbances on ChaoHu’s MuShan Island near Hefei.” “What kind?” “Unclear.” “Are we going to go help?” Lan Wangji waited, choosing not to answer. Wei Ying will figure it out. “Silly question. You go where the chaos is,” Wei Wuxian turned and kissed Lan Wangji. He then laughed, “And here I thought I was the chaos.” Lan Wangji huffed out a small snort. “Alright, alright. We should write back and go help out. I’ll find Chenqing and pack our stuff. You can finish your pile of letters.” “Check between the bed and the window.” “What?” Wei Wuxian hopped from where he was sitting and bounded over to the bed. “You left Chenqing there earlier in the month.” “You really remember everything, don’t you, Lan Zhan?” “No. Only if it pertains to Wei Ying.”

[Yunmeng, Lotus Pier]

Jiang Cheng snapped his head up at the sound of running. “Zongzhu! Help is requested urgently from Hefei!” A young disciple charged into the room waving a letter. “Is there the need to yell and run? Will a few additional moments change the outcome?” Jiang Cheng scolded as he snatched the folded message from the frantic disciple. “Go practice ‘Picking Lotus Roots in the Mud’ in the courtyard at one fifth the standard pace.” “Uh… One fifth?” “Do I need to repeat myself?” Jiang Cheng looked the boy in the eye. “No Zongzhu. Right away,” the disciple scurried off. Jiang Cheng watched the retreating figure and wondered if he himself could even perform the form at one fifth the speed. No matter, the boy was supposed to practice and it would teach him patience. Jiang Cheng turned his attention to the message in his hand. It was from Hefei’s Mi sect, a small sect allied to Yunmeng： “Seeking help from Sandu Shengshou Jiang Wanyin and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. Mysterious yao disturbances on ChaoHu’s MuShan Island. Hefei Mi and Wuhu Gong attempted to subdue to no avail. Many spiritual weapons were lost in the process. The disturbances have been intensifying over the past three months. The people suffer. Area sects are forced to seek aid from major sects. Hefei Mi Sect Mi Tayan” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and refolded the letter. Why can’t minor sects be more competent? He and Wei Wuxian were probably subduing yao of that caliber when they were thirteen. Then again, Gong and Mi have had decent reputations lately. Maybe he should not underestimate the yao. Jiang Cheng’s right thumb began idly spinning the violet ring on his middle finger. ChaoHu was large. Yao thriving on those resources could be powerful. Such situations would be best approached with caution. A pity he couldn’t simply ignore this. As the Mi sect was Yunmeng’s most loyal supporter, Yunmeng was obligated to help. Luckily he had at least one spiritual weapon to spare. He stood and swept out of the room.

[MuShan Island]

Dusk blanketed the island in the middle of Chaohu. As the long shadows of trees merged into deep blue darkness, a full moon rose to cast a crisp white light over the party of cultivators on a night hunt. “Lan Zhan! There’s something over here!” Wei Wuxian said as he threw out a talisman towards a large tree. They had been scouring the island since lunch time and Wei Wuxian was growing hungry. The talisman flew forward, glowed bright red, and expanded into a spiritual net, aiming to capture an unidentified target. Wei Wuxian followed his talisman attack by pulling out Chenqing, twirling the flute in his hand once to adjust positioning, and bringing it to his lips. As the high pitch trill of the black bamboo flute pierced the air, the red glow of the spiritual net flickered and flared. Shadows pulsated against the net and Wei Wuxian closed his eyes to focus on pushing his will onto the creature with his infamous demon flute. “Sizhui, flank right with your group. Jingyi, flank left with yours. Aim to subdue, not kill,” Lan Wangji instructed the group of juniors. He then summoned Wangji qin from his qiankun pouch and set about sending spiritual energy towards Wei Wuxian’s net. Sizhui and Jingyi had developed enough experience that they were leading small groups on their own in major night hunts. The two juniors directed their groups to take up positions based on the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper. Then, they all unsheathed their swords and sent them towards the being under the net. The spiritual blades danced around Wei Wuxian’s talisman. As they flew, the swords collided continuously. “PoZhangYin!” Wei Wuxian opened his eyes and exclaimed after a few collisions, realizing the clanging of the blades played out Gusu’s famous battle melody. “That’s a clever use of swords! I see someone has been teaching useful things like creativity and practical application of known skills!” “Wei-qianbei has a good ear!” Jingyi said as his sword hit Sizhui’s. “It was Sizhui’s idea. He remembered that awful blade of grass you used and thought we could do the same with our swords. We have been practicing!” “Jingyi, focus,” Lan Wangji chided, sending another wave of qin energy towards the target. “Wei Ying, do you know what it is?” “Some sort of old waterfowl yao. I can’t quite get a sense of it yet. Possibly a duck. Hey, Hanguang-jun, do you want to have roast duck for dinner?” “I prefer sampling local delicacies,” Lan Wangji responded, his voice steady as he sent another wave of energy towards the trapped yao. “You do have a point, Lan Zhan. I hear the Binjiong cakes here are good. We should give them a try.” “Mn. Focus so Wei Ying can eat later. It’s loquat season.” Wei Wuxian laughed, “Alright! Your treat, Hanguang-jun!” He turned his attention back to the trapped yao. As the nine cultivators poured their energies into the talisman and sword formation, the shadows emanating from the net began to subside. After a stick of incense worth of time, the last notes of PoZhangYin clanged from the swords and the talisman net’s bright glow softened to the dim light of embers. Anguished quacks could be heard. “Wei-qianbei! You’re right, it is a duck yao!” The noises continued and Wei Wuxian’s brows furrowed. Something did not feel right. The sound was not… Wei Wuxian cursed and bolted to the yao. He hurriedly started casting a silencing talisman while explaining, “This isn’t a duck yao. It’s a mandarin duck yao and she’s calling for her mate. He’s probab—” Something fast crashed into his back, knocking him forward. He fell, crushing the talisman net and releasing the yao inside. “Wei Ying!” Wei Wuxian heard Lan Zhan yell as energy waves from Wangji washed over him. Both yao being hit by the chord attacks reared up and expanded in size. The smell of rotting fish, stale lake water, and decaying wood filled Wei Wuxian’s nose. The two yao propelled themselves into the air, their attention diverted from Wei Wuxian to Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian yelled as he scrambled up and brought Chenqing to his lips again. The strong melancholy notes from Chenqing pushed towards the yao, attempting to control them. “Sizhui, Jingyi, Bagua formation! Contain them. Vanquish if necessary,” Lan Wangji ordered, Wangji still in hand. He swept his fingers over the seven strings, sending out seven separate chord assassination attacks. The juniors took positions in accordance to Bagua with Lan Wangji at the Qian position and Sizhui at the Kun position wielding their respective qin. The other juniors’ swords wove around the two yao. Marsh, Fire, Thunder, Wind, Water, and Mountain anchored between Heaven and Earth. The Bagua formation shifted between its permutations, drawing upon these primal aspects of nature. The two yao, trapped in an ever-mutating array of sword and qin energies, struggled against the Lan sect attack at first. The female soon calmed. She flew around the male, calming him as well. They hovered in midair observing the attacks. Then, the two yao moved. The female allowed herself to get hit by an attack from Lan Haoye. The sword stabbed into her left side but seemed to do little damage. Instead, the sword became embedded in the yao and Haoye lost control of her sword. Then, the female dove for the youngest cultivator, Lan Pinshu, who stood halfway between Lan Sizhui and Lan Wangji. The male, similarly, took a hit from Lan Runchan and dove for Lan Jinglin. Haoye stood on the water position and Pinshu on fire. Lan Runchan was on marsh and Jinglin on mountain. Wei Wuxian cursed again, “Everyone be careful. They’re taking hits aligned with their nature to strengthen themselves and attacking the opposite element to counter us. The female is cunning.” Wei Wuxian gathered his qi and pushed off the ground towards Pinshu. Times like these he missed his old body. This one was still too slow and had too little reach. To accelerate himself further, he slapped a talisman onto his lower back. He was closer to the boy than the female yao. He had a chance to protect the boy if he could just move between them. The force of the magic boosted his speed, giving him just enough time to step between the yao and the boy. He tucked Chenqing into his qiankun sleeve and grabbed Haoye’s sword jutting from the yao’s side. The yao screamed, strong resentful energy burst forth from her body. Gusts of resentment whipped around Wei Wuxian and Lan Pinshu, lifting up small pieces of foliage and debris. Wei Wuxian stood firm, putting himself between the yao and Pinshu, using his body as a shield. He clung onto Haoye’s sword and sliced down, aiming to split the yao in half. The yao screeched for her mate. The male yao abandoned his trajectory, shifting his body and arced towards Wei Wuxian. In flight, his form flattened into a blade with his beak elongating and sharpening into a point. Wei Wuxian saw the male yao approach but stood his ground. Haoye’s sword cut through and broke free from the female yao as the male yao’s beak pierced Wei Wuxian’s left side, sliding between two of his ribs. Before Wei Wuxian could redirect Haoye’s sword to slice towards the yao embedded half way in his chest, a bright flash of purple accompanied by a loud pop grabbed the tail end of the yao and forcibly pulled it out of Wei Wuxian’s chest. Wei Wuxian bit down on a scream. There was no reason to scare Pinshu right now. Wei Wuxian heard his name through a daze as something zoomed towards him. He lifted up Haoye’s sword to deflect the projectile but instinct took over and he found himself catching the object at the last moment. Suibian, his old sword, rested in his hand. In his previous life, Suibian’s hilt fit his hand so perfectly it was as if the sword had formed knowing it would be his. Considering the inscription on its sheath, maybe it did know. In this new body, his hand was just a fraction too small to wield Suibian with that old familiarity and ease. Wei Wuxian tightened his grip on his old friend. “Wei Wuxian, pay attention!” The sound of Jiang Cheng yelling shook Wei Wuxian from his thoughts. The female yao charged at him with half her entrails spilling from her body. Wei Wuxian unsheathed Suibian, pulled spiritual energy from his newly forming golden core, and sliced towards the yao. After a few exchanges, Suibian decapitated the creature, its body falling to the ground with a splat. Wei Wuxian smiled, “Suibian, looks like we still got this.” He thought he felt the sword shiver in response. Looking around, he saw Jiang Cheng and the Lans had disposed of the male yao as well. Lan Wangji and Sizhui were putting their qin away; Zidian was receding into Jiang Cheng’s ring; and the juniors were all sheathing their swords. Wei Wuxian watched Lan Wangji give instructions to the five unseasoned juniors to cleanse the area of residual resentment. Everyone was safe and well. He let out a sigh of relief which turned into coughs. Blood dribbled from his mouth and he fell to his knees. As he toppled forward, his right hand shot out to support his weight as his left hand pressed against the suddenly searing wound on his chest. Footsteps and people yelling his name closed in around him. “Wei Ying!” “Wei-qianbei!” “Wei Wuxian!” “I’m ok. Just a small wound,” Wei Wuxian tried to wave everyone off. Lan Wangji knelt by Wei Wuxian and started examining his puncture wound. “I can’t believe you let that yao hit you. What were you thinking? What if it were trying to curse you?” Jiang Cheng walked up and started scolding. “I was fighting the female.” “You’re coughing up blood.” “Jiang Cheng, you try having something stab you in the lungs. I’m sure you’ll cough up some blood too,” Wei Wuxian retorted, making himself cough up more blood. “Jin Guangyao did a few months ago, remember?” “Wei Ying. Stop talking.” “Jiang-zongzhu, maybe it’s not the best idea for you to antagonize Wei-qianbei right now,” Sizhui spoke up, giving Lan Wangji nervous glances. Lan Wangji stymied the blood flow by hitting a few choice acupoints. He then disinfected Wei Wuxian’s wound with a stream of qi and sprinkled some wound sealing powder to help accelerate clotting. He wrapped his right arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist, “Can you stand?” Wei Wuxian gave a nod and let Lan Wangji help him up. He looked at Jiang Cheng awkwardly. “Um…” “I’m just here to retrieve my sword.” “Sandu?” “The one in your hand.” Wei Wuxian felt his grip on Suibian tighten. “Suibian has always been my sword.” “It unsheathes for me.” Wei Wuxian paused. What argument could he use? They both knew Suibian would unsheathe for Jiang Cheng because Jiang Cheng has Wei Wuxian’s golden core. Because it was what Wei Wuxian owed the Jiangs. Because Wei Wuxian did not believe Jiang Cheng would be able to survive without one. But that was not an argument he could make. His chest was hurting and he did not need to revisit Jiang Cheng’s reaction. “I’m taking your silence as agreement,” Jiang Cheng reached for the sword. Wei Wuxian pulled Suibian out of Jiang Cheng’s reach. “Suibian also unsheathes for me.” “Suibian was given to you as the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. You’re no longer in the sect. You defected. I should have taken Suibian with me then,” Jiang Cheng drew himself to his full height and looked down his nose at Wei Wuxian. “Suibian is sentient. It knows Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji spoke up, glaring down at Jiang Cheng. “Suibian is made from the trees of Yunmeng, its blade quenched with our waters. It belongs in Yunmeng. And it knows me as well.” “Suibian has always been Wei Wuxian’s sword. You did not take it when Wei Ying moved to the Burial Mounds. It is not yours to take right now.” “Wei Wuxian would not even have it had I not brought it as a backup to Sandu today.” “Jiang Cheng, why are you here anyway? And why bring Suibian?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Mi Tayan wrote Yunmeng seeking help. Apparently the Gong sect and Mi sect could not handle these two on their own. Suibian served as a spare since the yao had been taking spiritual weapons,” Jiang Cheng answered frankly. He then looked Wei Wuxian up and down. Wei Wuxian shrunk into Lan Wangji, hearing Jiang Cheng’s unspoken words: Your new body is weak. You don’t have a golden core anyway. You can’t use it for long. “A few days ago, I felt the beginning of a golden core coalescing.” Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this? Why would I care?” “I will have the strength to wield Suibian again. Suibian is mine.” “You can take it when you can and are willing to take the golden core inside me back,” Jiang Cheng spat. His ring crackled as Zidian sent forth a warning shock. “You know I would never do that.” “Then give me back my sect’s sword.” Wei Wuxian pushed Lan Wangji away and placed his right hand on Suibian’s hilt. “I don’t want to fight you Jiang Cheng but I’m not someone you can bully.” Zidian crackled. “Suibian belongs to Yunmeng. I will not let Lan-er or any other self-righteous, headband wearing, cultivator take what belongs to my sect. Yunmeng will not back down.” Sizhui interjected, “Wait. Fighting now is unproductive. Jiang-zongzhu, Wei-qianbei, is there no other resolution? If Suibian is sentient, can we not ask it to choose?” “Yeah! Even if Jiang-zongzhu beats Wei-qianbei, it wouldn’t reflect well on Yunmeng. I didn’t think Yunmeng would be the type to pick on someone who was just injured and without a fully formed core,” Jingyi added. Wei Wuxian scoffed, “You’re not holding back, are you, Jingyi?” “Sorry Wei-qianbei. Fighting Jiang-zongzhu right now would be so unfair to you.” “Ask it to choose?” Jiang Cheng scoffed at Sizhui. “Suibian isn’t some spirit you can just ask with WenLing who it is, how it died, what it wants. It’s a sword that has bonded with a person.” Jingyi laughed, “Well, then we just have to show if it’s bonded more to the soul or the golden core.” “And how do you propose to do this? I’ve never heard of such an assessment.” “Jiang-zongzhu, we just need to be a bit creative. Would you mind performing some initial tests with us?” Sizhui asked. “I’m not here to play games.” “We are serious, right, Sizhui? We are simply trying to apply our new-found creativity and practical application of known skills!” Jingyi beamed. Sizhui did not roll his eyes at his smug friend. “Jiang-zongshu, has Jin Ling ever spoken with you about the events that transpired at Yi City involving Xue Yang, Song Lan-daozhang, and Xiao Xingchen-daozhang? “Some.” “Are you aware that Xue Yang had Shuanghua at the time? And Hanguang-jun was able to take it from him?” “Jin Ling did mention something like that.” “Shuanghua was aware that Xue Yang did not align with Xiao Xingchen-daozhang’s world view and thus abandoned Xue Yang. I believe if you and Wei-qianbei are both able to wield Suiban then it becomes a matter of seeing if one of you can override the other’s will.” Jiang Cheng pursed his lips into a line. Sizhui added, “Jiang-zongzhu, you have the advantage here. Considering Wei-qianbei’s lower cultivation, he would only be able to override your will if Suibian is truly loyal to him. You have very little to lose.” “Fine,” Jiang Cheng scowled. “Let’s get this over with.” Sizhui then turned to Wei Wuxian, “Wei-qianbei, would you mind sending Suibian out to encircle that tree, approaching from the left, and returning it to its sheath?” Wei Wuxian performed the task. “Wei-qianbei, hand Suibian to Jiang-zongzhu,” Jingyi ordered. “Jiang-zongzhu please do the same but approach from the right.” Jiang Cheng performed the task with a bored expression. “Jiang-zongzhu, please hand Suibian back to Wei-qianbei. Now, Wei-qianbei will perform the same task as he did earlier. You goal, Jiang-zongzhu is to get Suibian to circle the tree from the other direction.” Wei Wuxian stared at the sword that was too big for his hand. Are you really mine? Or have you bonded with Jiang Cheng in the last few months? He closed his eyes, sighed, and sent Suibian flying. Suibian flew true and returned to Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng scowled, “Is that it? This proves nothing.” “There is at least one more step,” Sizhui answered respectfully. “Wei-qianbei, give Suibian to Jiang-zongzhu. Your turn to try to make Suibian fly the other direction!” Jingyi said, shaking with excitement. “Jiang-zongzhu, if Wei-qianbei is able to divert Suibian, then it is likely bonded with him more than with you. If not, then we will need to find a different way to assess the ownership of the sword.” Wei Wuxian nodded and whispered to the sword, “Suibian, you sealed for me for thirteen years. I cannot ask for more. But maybe do me a favor this one time.” He then handed it over to Jiang Cheng. Sizhui stared Jiang Cheng in the eye. “You may proceed.” Suibian flew out from Jiang Cheng towards the pre-appointed tree. It started veering right but wobbled. Jiang Cheng’s brow furrowed, driving it back on course. Wei Wuxian bit his lip, his eyes narrowing slightly, shoving his focus into the sword. The distance between where they stood and the tree was only ten zhang or so. He didn’t have much time. He could feel Jiang Cheng urging the sword to the right. Wei Wuxian shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, mentally reaching for Suibian. Suibian, I miss you. Please. Wei Wuxian could feel Jiang Cheng’s connection to the sword snap as Suibian swerved in mid-air, circled the tree from the left, and flew into Wei Wuxian’s grip. Jiang Cheng let out a startled grunt. Wei Wuxian almost laughed at the familiar sound. It reminded him of childhood in Yunmeng, of waking up to that sound and a thud as Jiang Cheng rolled off his bed. A grin spread across Wei Wuxian’s face. “Incredible! Suibian really is sentient,” Pinshu sighed in admiration. “I thought only cultivators who had bonded for a lifetime with their swords had that sort of loyalty!” “Suibian has always been loyal to Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji explained. “Its inscription is indicative of its devotion. Sizhui, Jingyi, good work." The two juniors stood up straighter and grinned at each other under Lan Wangji's praise. Jiang Cheng handed Suibian's sheath to Wei Wuxian, “Yours. Don’t be too smug. I don’t want it if it doesn’t belong to Yunmeng. And stop leaving it places.” “Jiang Cheng…” “What?” “Thank you.” “Whatever. It’s not like it’s that good a sword anyway,” Jiang Cheng said and stalked off into the darkness to look for the other members of his sect. Wei Wuxian clung onto Suibian, “Welcome back. I’ve missed you.” He suddenly lifted up Suibian and stared at the sword in awe. “Wei Ying?” “Lan Zhan, is my hand suddenly bigger?” Wei Wuxian asked, holding up a hand that once belonged to a man named Mo Xuanyu. Lan Zhan held up his hand as well. Wei Wuxian’s hand was smaller by the same familiar margin. “No. Why does Wei Ying ask?” Wei Wuxian gripped Suibian by the hilt and held out his fist out. “My hand was a bit too small earlier tonight. And now it’s perfect for my hand again.” “Mn. Suibian is a good sword.” “Suibian really is a good sword,” Wei Wuxian echoed. “Hey, do you think you can treat your poor wounded husband to some roast mandarin duck and Binjiong cakes now?” “Loquats as well. My treat,” Lan Wangji nodded once with a hint of a smile.

Author’s notes:

1) For SHL/WOH fans, I was working on this request and trying to find a place between yunmeng and gusu. I ended up seeing Hefei, Chaohu, and Mushan Island. As I was zooming out, I noticed Wuhu was a town pretty close by… so I decided to shove a reference to Gong Jun and his Wuhu singing into my story as an easter egg. I’m not sorry.

2) Poetry references: A - The name of the form JC asks the disciple to practice is 泥中采藕 in chinese. I pulled it from this poem: 元 · 丁鹤年水上摘莲青的的，泥中采藕白纤纤。却笑同根不同味，莲心清苦藕芽甜。

B - This is completely me being derp. Hefei is a location where the name fertile (in terms of soil)/fat is part of the name. I chose the sect to have a last name related to grains. And then I looked up that character in poetry to name the sect leader: 黄庭坚 (宋）嚼冰进糜餐，冲雪踏层巘

C - Since CR’s name is from a Jia Dao poem, I chose to pull all the names of the OC juniors from Jia Dao Poems as well: Pinshu is from: 《让纠曹上乐使君》瓶汲南溪水，书来北岳僧。

Haoye is per: 《上谷旅夜》月到寒窗空皓晶，风翻落叶更飕飗

Jinglin and Runchan I took inspiration from: 《升道精舍南台对月寄姚合》月向南台见，秋霖洗涤余。出逢危叶落，静看众峰疏。冷露常时有，禅窗此夜虚。相思聊怅望，润气遍衣初。

3) Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper is the big dipper. It’s common in wuxia as a formation. Same goes for Bagua. Both are daoist but so is Xianxia type cultivation. I know the Lans are Buddhist in origin but they really aren’t that way religion-wise.

4) Mandarin ducks are yuanyang and a term/symbol of a loving couple and monogamous faithfulness.

5) 滨炯一品玉带糕 are binjiong yiping (first ranked) jade-belted cakes. They’re a famous pastry/cake in the area. Idk if it’s period accurate but mdzs isn’t period accurate so i’m using it. 姥山枇杷 (mushan loquats) are supposed to be large, sweet, thin skinned with lots of flesh and super juicy. It was a good thing to include since this story is so heavily wangxian. And i don’t know if people eat mandarin ducks, but I would want to if i were wwx after that night hunt.

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tale-xistime · 3 years

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“before i wanted nothing to do with you; now i can’t imagine my life without you” for Lizzington?

| So I saw THIS ⬇️…

https://tale-xistime.tumblr.com/post/656479243714330624/thecollectibles-shoe-studies-by-julia

…post and something about it just SCREAMED Red to me. I really wanted to do a fic with Red having these sock clips, and just with Reds fashion in general. When suddenly a little inkling in my mind was like, hey there’s a prompt buried somewhere that could go along with the direction you want to take this, so I looked, and here this was! So I hope everyone enjoys the concept of sock garters on Red as much as I do, and here is this! Also Spaders, thank you for the prompts you’ve sent and how patient you’ve been, and I hope you enjoy this my friend. |

Dressing impeccably is part of what makes the Concierge of Crime, the Concierge of Crime. Raymond Reddington has a routine he uses in the mornings to get dressed, and well, Liz just feels blessed to see it for the first time.

(She could get used to this.)

Last night got a little out of hand. But only in the best way possible. They were on an undercover op, playing as a couple. Their contact had given them the information they needed and left, leaving them to their own devices. They stayed together, and just simply talked. They ate dinner together, and drank enough wine to take the edge off, but not to be past the point of a clear mind. They sat for hours, long past the op’s completion, talking about various childhood stories, likes and dislikes, and then somehow miraculously, the conversation shifted to the topic of each other.

“Red, what do you think of me?”

She clearly remembered the way he had cocked his head, leaning in closer as if she were sharing a secret.

“In terms of what, Lizzie?”

“Just in terms of, viability as a partner. A romantic partner.”

This took Red aback, making him lean back from the table slightly. He swirled the glass of wine around, just to give his hands something to do as he tried to collect the right words.

“Intelligent. Breathtakingly beautiful, innately clever, kind, resourceful, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you Lizzie.” He finished quietly, looking down to the table, anywhere but at Lizzie.

“Mmm.” His reaction told her just what she was wondering, just what she needed to be confirmed. She felt emboldened by Red's compliments, and a daring, reckless, probably worst but possibly best idea that she had ever had began to form in her mind.

She was feeling brave tonight.

It didn’t take long watching him examine her curiously before she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to tell him.

(She was falling in love with him. She couldn’t say when it had happened, perhaps it had been when he had saved her life, maybe it was as recent as tonight or maybe she had just always loved him, from the second she descended upon his chained figure down in the box. She just had to realize it for herself.)

“I don’t want just any man though.” She said quietly, eyes cast downward. Shocking him out of his quite obvious inspection of her face. His eyebrows stuck together, their breath mingling over the table they were both leaning over. She looked back up to him, wondered what he was thinking from behind his confused expression.

She continued, talking quickly to get it all out in a rush, before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.

“I want one man. The only problem is I think he’s too scared, too scared to let go of his fears and self doubts to believe that I could want him too. Something real, unlike what I had with Tom.”

She steeled her nerves, figuring it was too late to turn back now as she traced her hand up from his knee, to rest on his inner thigh. Needing some way to cement in his mind who the subject matter could be. It worked.

His face had changed with every word she said, with every inch the pads of her fingertips climbed. He was bewildered, shaken, and almost hopeful.

His shock only grew as Liz took her other hand to gently guide his face, leaning him further over the table for his lips to align with hers. He was losing control, and while one part of him was reveling in letting Lizzie take control, reveling in what she was implying that she could want to be with him, that she could want him, the other half of him screamed to stop! Because he could only ever bring her pain, misery, and danger, when she deserved everything else pure and good in the world instead of his useless husk of a self-

“Lizzie,” he had gasped, just a breath away, wanting to do anything but talk. “It's too dangerous, you and me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do, especially if you were hurt by someone I unintentionally brought into your life, I would only ever put you in danger and I can’t-” His pleading was interrupted by her gentle but fervent yank on his jaw, her calm and determined eyes meeting his.

“Raymond,” she spoke his name, his God given name for the first time she could remember. Reaching her hand up higher on his thigh, she ran her fingers over his scalp. His eyes drifted closed at the sensation, eliciting a deep thrum from him.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, because before I wanted nothing to do with you, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m falling for you, and I need you. I want you. Let me in. We’ll protect each other and survive, thrive, just like we always do. Take me home. Let me show you how much I need you. How much I love you.”

She leaned in, meeting him halfway over their table and kissed him.

It was a chaste thing, their mouths only slightly sliding and slipping together.

They broke apart, eyes closed and forehead to forehead, unreasonably breathless and completely undone.

Her arms snaked around his shoulders, running her palms over his shorn hair to rest on his neck. His hands moved to rest on her knees, and before long he threw down a 20 and swept her out of the restaurant to his safe house.

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other on the drive, and barely made it past the door before his slacks were unbuttoned on the floor and her dress was unzipped and slung haphazardly on a doorknob.

It was the best sex she’d ever had.

Tom couldn’t hold a candle to Red. He knew just what she wanted, his talents extending far far beyond what even she had imagined. They just worked together. Perfectly.

“We’re gonna make a great team.”

She had never had a man be able to get her to see stars. Let alone twice back to back.

The various dreams and fantasies she had let play out in her mind before, well the real thing was just so much better.

She woke up this morning in his arms, warm and curled into his side, his nose nuzzled into her tousled hair. Her hands gently twitched to life against the curve of his spine, her eyes blinking open to the sun that streamed through the sheer curtains.

She awoke first out of the two of them, allowing her the experience of watching him slowly wake, cuddling as close to her as possible as he rested.

His face was youthful and slack, his mouth slightly open in a small snore.

It was glorious.

Red had eventually slowly awakened, looking more rested than she could ever remember.

She’d hugged him, and peppered his face with kisses, before he snagged her lips and pulled her onto him. His neck craned up to meet hers, hands lightly settled on her waist.

He’d pulled away, gently tucking her cascading hair behind her ear before whispering in his deepest and most graveled morning voice.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

Her heart swelled at the sight of him, at the sound of him.

“Good morning love.”

She settled against his chest, listening as his overwhelmed heart skipped a prompt beat due to her words.

They laid there for a while, Lizzie about to fall back peacefully asleep when suddenly Red shifted from under her.

“Is that really the time?” His line of sight had caught the glowing orange clock in the corner of the room, perched on a dresser.

“Oh shit, you have to meet your contact with last night's info right?”

Liz slid off Red, the covers pooling around her as he leapt to his feet.

“Yes. In under an hour.”

And with that he disappeared into his closet, occasionally throwing a piece of a suit onto the dresser.

Her mind wandered back to him, to his perfection, his skill. Which ultimately proved to be a disservice to herself, with every thought of last night and it’s activities, she was left craving more.

Red came back into the room, buck naked and bared for only her to see. That certainly didn’t help her in her effort to try and behave.

To try and occupy her, she watches him start to get ready, and quickly finds herself becoming fascinated with his dressing regiment. A process she quickly begins memorizing.

He pulls on a pair of black boxers first, (she tries not to let herself be disappointed by this complete loss of her new most favorite view) soon followed by impeccable black slacks.

A taunt leather belt, and white undershirt are next.

She watches in awe as he pulls on the shirt, his arms drifting up through the fabric first, hands stretching towards the rich cream of his smooth ceiling before helping to lift the bunched cloth past his shorn hair.

His head quickly follows with his calloused and capable hands help, the white of the shirts’ threads appearing to pool around his shoulders in one swift motion.

He situates the fabric to wash down his torso, now completely concealing his supple, and scarred skin from her.

He fists his button-up, sliding one arm and then the next through the crisp, snow white polyester. He turns to face her then, knowing that she’s watching with the utmost interest, cocking his head and examining the lust left plain on her face. Matching it with his own.

His eyes skim easily down her mainly bare body, just sitting there, plainly exposed on his sheets.

(His sheets!)

He can’t handle it anymore, knows that if he keeps looking at her softness he’ll crack, so he gulps and turns away. Trying to calm down the blush rising.

His nimble fingers make fast work of the buttons, and before long he swings on his favorite windowpane waistcoat, the silky fabric as jet-black as a moonless sky.

Her trance is broken by his soft murmur, just barely audible as his hand grabs a silver Rolex and fastens it to his other wrist, his waistcoat left unbuttoned.

“Lizzie, can you grab me a tie?” She blinks once or twice before moving, grabbing last night's undershirt off the floor as she does so.

Raymond is dumbfounded as she tugs on his shirt, watching as the oversized cloth drifts down past the only thing she previously had on. The sapphire, lacy blue panties now completely shielded.

His mouth is wide open, for more than a second, struck speechless by the complete lack of hesitation Elizabeth had in completely wrecking him.

She returns still wearing his shirt, a storm cloud grey tie clutched in her hands. Dark crosshatching running along its surface. Slinging it across his shoulders and tucking it under his collar, she begins tying it without a word, their breath mingling together.

The tension between them is smooth, rich, and welcomed. But at the same time it remains jagged, pulling, and cutting. Something has shifted, and now they need each other. It’s something primal, the pair of heating cores in the room, if just due to the proximity and domesticity of waking up to one another. The urge created by perfect balance and harmony the night before. It’s effects are intoxicating, addictive, and demanding.

She finishes the knot easily, adjusting the tie and looking up into his pupil-blown eye.

(They can’t take much more of this.)

Her fingers move to his waistcoat, fastening and smoothing it down his chest.

His cologne still lingers on his clothing, strong enough for her to catch a whiff of it on his neck.

It’s this that throws her over the edge, this that makes her decide to stop playing nice.

Her lips move slowly to cup his neck, feeling his pulse beneath them as she stands on her tippy toes. They move lethargically over his pulse point, a small circular scar under her roaming tongue.

(Liz is now determined to get what she wants. Meetings and work be damned.)

His eyes drift close, neck arching to give her access, begging her to feed his aching, and it’s at this point he knows he really has no chance of winning. He’s putty in her hands. That doesn’t mean he won't give her a run for her money though.

He suddenly moves away. Gulping past the smirk on his face.

Line, hook, and sinker. She knows he’s only playing hard to get, he likes to toy with her that way. She can’t say she minds. She can play too.

Red grabs his pair of cotton crew socks along with a pair of silver and black sock garters and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress, keeping his face down and out of her line of sight. Leaving her standing where he left her.

He crosses his right leg, rolling up his pant leg before stretching his sock up and over his foot. He clasps the sock garter then, the elastic contracting to grip his calf. He clips both clasps into his sock, then rolls his pant leg back down. Switching feet to start the process again, prompting Liz to action.

She slides behind him, the fabric of his suit moving with each action he takes.

Red tries his best to seem as though he’s ignoring her, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Liz rests her lips on the top of his shoulder, hands moving around the front to find purchase to spread out on his hips, before she begins moving her mouth along the hem of his waistcoat. Gliding past his collar to the base of his neck, before moving up and along the side of it. She moves up and along his hairline, his hair delightfully prodding and tickling her lips. She gives open-mouthed kisses to the back of his ear, before nipping and tugging at his ear lobe.

Red had been proud of himself for sticking it out this long, keeping painfully quiet throughout all her ministrations, but when she’s breathing in his ear, and nipping at his skin he’s suddenly no longer able to keep the sound of his shaking breath quiet.

She picks up on this, and stops immediately. Smiling mischievously from ear to ear. She slides out from behind him, grabbing his shoes before dropping to her knees in front of him.

She gently palms his foot, sliding his black oxfords on. Well aware of the fact that he can see straight down her baggy new shirt from his vantage point.

She ties both shoes, then pulls him to a stand by his collar, leaving him to stand on shaky knees as she pulls his grey suit-coat on him.

She stands in front of him now, remaining still despite every fiber in her screaming to reach out and claim him once again.

He’s fully clothed, his armor securely fastened to go do what he does best. Take on the world.

She, on the other hand, is almost fully naked, the drenching shirt rippling in the draft currently crossing his bedroom. (Their bedroom.)

She smooths down his waistcoat one last time, hands lingering before she looks up at his eyes again, both blue and green overrun by black and aching need, before they move at the same time. She grabs his tie and yanks him to her, untucking it from his waistcoat and using it to her full advantage.

Meanwhile he grabs her waist and thrusts her closer, hands fluttering against bare skin and lace. Their lips meet and lock, sliding and pleasing their way to that much needed balance. She backs him into the bed, his knees buckling quite willingly as she lays him down.

She breaks away panting.

Kneeling in front of him again to undo all the useless dressing she just completed. Not completely useless, she reminds herself, finding that she is indeed enjoying ripping off his fine suits and clothing once again. She gets to his sock garters, fumbling to unclasp and peel them off with his socks, before he grabs his phone. With a bit-lip and closed eyes he calls Dembe explaining that he will need Dembe to go to their contact to drop off the necessary information in his stead. Dembe obliges without hesitation, not even wanting to know the reason for Red's absence as he hears a barely audible moan escape Red across the phone as Lizzie shucks off Raymonds pants and traces her lips up his inner thigh. Red closes the phone and tosses it, Lizzie giving a giggle.

“And to think of all that time we could have spent enjoying ourselves instead of you trying to leave. A fruitless venture I might add.”

Red gives a chuckle himself. Suddenly stopping Liz mid kiss and flipping her.

Her back landing gently on the mattress where he previously was.

“Sorry darling. Allow me to make it up to you.”

#talexistime #my fic #ace of Spaders prompt #sock garters #raymond reddington #the blacklist #lizzington #elizabeth keen #elizabeth keen and raymond reddington

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saruvanthewhite · 3 years

Text

I didn’t ask for this lifestyle; The Van-lifestyle. People assume because I live this way now, for some reason they cannot explain to me, that I have chosen this over a house with property. One makes the best choice out of what is offered them. I was offered the opportunity to either sleep under bridges, in a tent with no other way out; or to utilize what skills I learned during childhood family vacations.

Dad would carefully pack one of his vans, usually the Dodge (& later years) the Chevy; both 12-passenger models, with everything six people needed for a month on the road. We slept, ate, and played in that van from Virginia to Washington & all the places in between. Sometimes we stopped for a motel. Rarely. Most often, he & mom switched off through the night. By morning, dad was willing to let my older sister, then me, then my brother take over driving duties. As years passed, my brother & I took over most all of the driving.

Since age fourteen, I had been driving something; whether it was in a parking lot for practice or on the open interstate system. Under mom or dad’s watchful eyes naturally. By the time I took my driver’s test at seventeen, I had helped drive across the country three times; later had driven in & around Washington DC, Baltimore, New York, Chicago, St Louis, Denver, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, LA, & Spokane. Major cities didn’t bother me. But the open road was where I found the best version of myself.

So when I was faced with homelessness, I did what seemed most natural; I sought out a van. A temporary solution was to use a beat up, nearly abandoned work truck. For a few months, a Chevrolet Astro was ‘home’. I took showers at a shelter every couple of days, used the work facilities for everything else…until I couldn’t. Work changed their minds on the van & limited me to work use only. So the hunt began again. Enter, Saruvan. U-96, informally. Because living in a van is roughly (pun intended) like living aboard an early-20th century submarine; One lives atop food stores, clothing, tools, & other belongings.

It’s taken two years to amass the tools & materials needed to have a decently comfortable life. But like the joke earlier, it’s rough at times. For example, I have an on-board resource for showering, a bucket for necessary room, & an icebox. But the shower has no grey water return & I need to be parked somewhere private or partially out of sight to pop it out & set it up. The bucket is a pain to get out & deploy & the van stinks for a short period after. The icebox is a glorified cooler that must be pumped dry of melted ice & replenished if food is to be kept. So there are some trade offs. There’s no build so to speak. So no cabinets, drawers, counter space or clever storage solutions; The interior is literally just plastic bins with a bed on top & other stuff in Costco cardboard trays that move around & eventually wear out.

But it’s mine. My own. My van is my hide out when anxiety runs high. It is a safe space to get away from humanity when I need to do so. The van can be an adventure rig or simply a warm place to sleep. It’s not my first choice. I have children I’m unable to house who I terribly miss for not seeing them during the week. THEY need me to have a home more than I do. THEY need space to lay down. THEY need space to dine with their father. THEY need a space of their own when we’re together. THEY need a play space that’s AT home. My van cannot be a surrogate home for them. That is the most troublesome & painful part of #vanlife for me.

Until I’m able to afford a better life, this is what has been presented to me.

So, wrapping up, I am comfortable in my van. Some would not be. It’s those folk who are often the ones who look down on my existence & don’t think twice about making their distaste for it known. It’s for them I write. Maybe also my kids. So they can know more about me later. Maybe this will be part of the larger tale of me. Who knows? All I know is that if I don’t write this down when I’m thinking or ruminating about it, details go missing. Soon enough, I won’t have a true story to tell.

So there. U-96 Saruvan, Capitan Leutnant Valentine commanding, & his beginnings as a van pilot.

#vanlife #shower #life #my story #travels #existence #homelessness

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writingblackpink · 4 years

Text

Coincidence (pt. 2)

Read part 1 HERE

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face….but is that all she is?

A/N: surprise!! Here it is! Kind of fluffy! Let me know what you think :)

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Joy squinted at you, pacing in front of the couch you sat on, “The girl you took home from the bar was Rosie? The same Rosie we just had dinner with? The same Rosie that had you up against the wall of the women’s restroom, but you can’t remember if you fucked or not?”

Your head instantaneously hit your palms. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to your roommate’s crudeness. “Shhhhhh….you don’t have to say it like that.”

Joy let you have the peacefully silent car ride home to think about how you would present the story to her, and as soon as you crossed the threshold into the apartment, she began berating you with questions on how you and Rosie knew each other. So now, you sit on the couch as she paces the room, deep in both thought and confusion as you both try to piece together what happened that night.

At her silence, you continued.

“Listen, I have a feeling nothing like that happened. If I was so wasted that I can’t remember what happened, there’s also a big chance that I wasn’t able to do much else.” You sounded more so as if you were talking to yourself, trying to convince yourself of what happened during the night in question, and not to your roommate who was also trying to help.

She stopped pacing to respond.

“Ok, but what about this incriminating evidence? I swear I was minding my own business but when I got home that night, you two were definitely in the middle of some intense….” she paused, looking for the right word, “necking…” she paused again, sour expression gracing her features, realizing that wasn’t the best choice of words, “on the couch.” She finished in a more accusatory tone.

You made a sound in frustration, throwing your head back in your hands, trying to wrack your brain for any fleeting memory.

“I don’t know, just, can we stop talking about it for tonight?”

Joy shrugged and took a few steps to exit the room.

“Y/N, maybe you should just ask her what happened.” She responded.

“Better yet, maybe you should just ask her out on a date already!” She exclaimed over her shoulder as she continued walking down the hallway. You let out a sigh when you heard the door to her room closed, hoping you were off the hook at least for tonight.

You opened your phone, staring at the lips as Rosie’s contact and as if you were on autopilot, you opened a new text message. You glared at the blank screen until you lost track of time, thinking through what you could possibly say, but you couldn’t think of anything clever at that moment so you exited the message and clicked your phone off as you got up and walked to your room, retiring for the night.

Each day the following week, you found yourself in some weird sort of cycle. You would spend all day thinking about Rosie, what happened that night, how you would ask her out, and when you returned home you would open her contact in your phone, staring at the blank message screen until you chickened out and closed the app. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, Rosie kind of intimidated you, and you wanted to make sure you reached out in the best way if you wanted her to agree to go on a date with you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this nervous to impress someone.

By Friday, you were starting to get frustrated with yourself at this go around. When you got home and opened your messages this time, you finally typed something out, opting for something simple and straightforward, before hovering over the send button.

Taking a few deep breaths, you pressed send, watching the message pop up in the chat.

Hi Rosie! It’s Y/N from the bar...and dinner last week. I know this is kind of last minute and you’re probably busy but there’s this carnival happening this weekend and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me?

You stared at the screen for what felt like hours before you saw that Rosie was typing.

Are you asking me out on a date, Y/N?

She replied, and you could almost picture her smug smirk through the phone. That was something you already knew you admired about her - her unwavering confidence she had in herself. You wished you had as much in yourself.

Yeah, I guess I am 🥴

Your response was simple, but you saw her typing back almost immediately.

Cute ☺️

Was the first message, and you thought that was all she was going to send until you saw the chat bubbles pop up again.

I’m actually free tomorrow, Y/N. And if I wasn’t, I would have cancelled my other plans for you. I’ve been waiting for you to reach out.

You blushed at the thought that Rosie was thinking of you too, and you wondered if she was feeling the same way.

Clothes were strewn across the room as you tried to pick something to wear on your first date. Joy heard your grumbling and rounded the corner into your room, eyes widening at the mess you were making.

“Why are you so freaked out?” She questioned, “From what I saw on both occasions, you could be wearing a plastic bag and Rosie would still look at you like...” She paused, failing to find a way to describe Rosie’s longing glances, “...well, you know.” and she left it at that, hoping you could make a conclusion based on that. You did.

You continued rifling through your things as she spoke, realizing that if you didn’t hurry and get dressed, you’d be late.

“I don’t know Joy. I don’t really know what’s going on with me, but Rosie just makes me so nervous. It’s like…” you stopped and looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought, “I want to be around her like all the time. Which is weird because we’ve only sort of met twice but I don’t know,” you continued, bringing your eyes down to meet Joy’s, “she makes me feel so much.”

Joy laughed at that, walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder, “wow, you really got it bad, Y/N.” As she exited the room, she offered a “good luck” and continued on her way.

You settled on an oversized sweater and some jeans, something basic but also something you knew would keep you warm in the crisp fall air. Glancing at your watch, you let out a breath of relief to see that you were leaving right on time, which was kind of a first for you.

The car ride was actually pleasant. You and Rosie made easy conversation over anything and everything, including music tastes, favorite colors and which rides and attractions you were excited to get to experience with each other.

As you made your way into the carnival, you both agreed that you would hit the food trucks before anything else. Soon, you were settled at a bench, staring at the wild array of fried foods you had collected from nearly every booth.

Neither of you said anything about the excessive amount of food in front of you, and you both sat, eating contentedly, conversation flowing freely. But the question still sat at the back of your mind, and you figured that there wasn’t a better time to ask than the present.

“Rosie? Can I ask you a question” you asked, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She made an affirmative sound and sat up a bit straighter, letting you know you had her attention.

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washed over you and you didn’t really know why. You put your hands in your lap and moved your gaze to them as you spoke.

“Um...so...this might be a little awkward...and embarrassing on my part,” you forced out, lifting your eyes to meet her curious ones once again. Her eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion, waiting for you to finish your question.

“But the night we met...what exactly happened?”

And you were surprised to hear a chuckle escape her lips. Her beautiful, beautiful lips. You realized you were staring as she started talking, so you drifted your eyes back upwards hoping she didn’t notice. The way she continued made you think that maybe she didn’t.

“Well,” She paused, leaning forward and gave a lopsided smirk as she continued, “do you want the truth or do you want me to spare you?”

Cringing inwardly, you just wanted to get this over with and move on. Clearly she has, you thought.

“Oh, god. Please just tell me what happened so we can move on from this. I don’t remember anything after we got back to my place.”

She chuckled again, and you thought you might never get tired of seeing her smile or hearing her laugh.

“Not much happened actually.” She stated nonchalantly. “We made out on your couch for a little bit and then…” She trailed off like she was trying to decide on whether to continue or not.

“And then?” You asked, the suspense really killing you.

“Well, you kind of…” she paused, clearly trying to figure out how to tell you what happened next.

“You passed out against my face. So I figured I would just help you get to bed and head out, so I sat you on your bed and went to rummage through your kitchen for some hangover meds and water, but when I got back you seem to have..” she paused again before continuing. “You seemed to have thrown up a little on yourself. And I couldn’t leave you like that so I found a towel and a t-shirt and got you changed and cleaned up before I found a post-it note and a pen to leave you a vague note and then I hit the road.” She got it out in a rush, almost like she would have rather spared you instead of telling you what had happened, knowing you would be embarrassed.

Your face was hiding behind your hands before she was even finished telling the story. Honestly, you were more impressed at her resourcefulness in a place she’d never been before more than you were embarrassed, but you were also still embarrassed and you couldn’t completely let that feeling go.

With red cheeks, you uncovered your face, seeing Rosie look almost as pained as you.

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke in the smallest voice you could muster.

“Thank you, Rosie, for uh, doing that for me.” You coughed again, hoping that would clear out the silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I tried coming on to you at dinner so that you wouldn’t think anything like that happened, but then you never called and I thought I ruined everything by coming on too strong. It’s ok though, I promise none of that changed the way I was feeling about you.”

“Really?” You piped up in surprise, thinking that incident should’ve been it for her, but then again she wouldn’t be here with you now if she did.

“Yeah, really. I think I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you since then, actually.” She responded shyly, less confident than you were used to.

And it felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of your shoulders because damn, Rosie felt the same way you did.

You cleared your throat again, trying to sound cool when you said, “Cool. Great.” and left the conversation at that.

You could tell there was a tension that settled between the two of you after that. The Rosie you once knew as confident now seemed nervous, and all you wanted to do was get rid of the tension.

Heading to the ferris wheel, you couldn’t help but notice the way Rosie tried to look everywhere but at you as you spoke, and the way she fiddled with her own hands as you waited in line for the attraction. When you got on the ride, her hands remained nervously in her lap, and she kept her gaze away from you as the ride made its ascent. As you made your way to the top, you watched as fireworks exploded in the sky, and as cliché as it sounded, you figured you should probably make a move. You hoped it would help drop the tension.

You reached over and grabbed her hand out of her lap, placing your hands in between the both of you and smiling when she turned to first look at your joined hands and then up to meet your gaze. She smiled back as you gave a gentle squeeze and you both looked back at the fireworks, almost feeling like you could reach out of the car and touch each light dancing in the sky.

After playing some carnival games, which included Rosie winning you a small plushie (a turtle you both named ‘Bob’), she led you to a ride that looked fast and furious. You had Bob in one hand and her hand in the other, and you couldn’t help but bask in the twinkle in her eye when she looked over her shoulder and smiled, giving your hand another squeeze and pulling you along. Yeah, you definitely weren’t ever going to get tired of seeing that, and you were also glad that any nervousness Rosie was feeling after telling you how she felt was long gone.

Stepping on the ride, you began tapping your feet on the ground and fidgeting in your seat. Of course, Rosie noticed. She was more intuitive than you originally had given her credit for, but also anyone within a ten-mile radius could notice you tapping your feet as the sound echoed through every inch of the metal.

“Hey, are you okay?” and the genuine concern in her eyes and the gentle squeeze she gave your hand, was reassuring enough to help you release any tension in your muscles.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You smiled back and took a few deep breaths just as the ride began moving.

Getting off the ride, adrenaline was coursing through your veins. You ran off before Rosie, skipping a few steps before turning and waiting for her to catch up to you. She was chuckling again as she made her way over, and she began saying something, but you were so caught up in the way that her long hair, mussed up from the ride, was flowing down her shoulders and the way her eyes glistened a little from the wind blowing in her direction and her cheeks glowing with a soft flush from the adrenaline as well.

You blamed it on the adrenaline when you surged forward and kissed her when she made her way to you. To your surprise, she kissed back, and you stood there, in the middle of the carnival, silently kissing each other as sounds from the rides and the games rang out in the background.

You pulled back first and looked directly into her eyes. You were pleased to find her smiling back at you and without saying anything you began pulling her to follow behind you.

A little while and a shared cotton candy later, you were back in your car bringing Rosie home. When you arrived at her apartment, you both sat for a minute, not sure what the next move was.

“Thanks for taking care of me that first night -”

“Thank you for tonight.”

You both let out at the same time, and you both laughed.

“You go first,” Rosie said.

“I was just going to say, thank you for taking care of me that first night. I really appreciate you. I’m sorry you had to deal with me being a mess. You didn’t even know me. So thanks.” And you left it there.

“Y/N, it’s no problem, really. I think you would’ve done the same for me.” She paused, letting a beat of silence go by before continuing, “and thank you for tonight. I hope we can do this again very soon.”

With that, the confident Rosie you remembered was back, and she was leaning over the console to place a gentle kiss on your cheek and pulled back. The touch was fleeting, but you knew you would feel the outline of her lips against your skin well into the night.

She smiled as she opened the door, turning to wave when you gave a ‘good night!” in her direction. You watched to make sure she got in safely before pulling out of the parking spot to head home. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, and you brought your fingers up to touch the place her lips had been just moments earlier. You chuckled. It was no coincidence there was going to be a second date.

#the end #blackpink imagines #blackpink #blackpink rosé #blackpink scenarios #rosé park #roséblackpink #gg scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #rosé x female reader

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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You seem to be really amazing at executing planned changes with food and exercise (and also generally better psychological habits) - can i ask for advice on this? I’ve finished up studying for now and realise my body has turned into a twisted up, pudgy, weakened wreck! Exercise hurts and sugar/processed food feels so cosy and I can’t seem to get through this part where i have to feel discomfort for a while before i feel better!

What works for you? Should i read that atomic habits book you mention? I saw another one recommended - the Kindness Habit - do you know anything about it?

(I tried journaling btw - but it didn’t get me anywhere)

hello!! i can share some things that have worked for me when it comes to implementing longer-term changes in diet and exercise. these seem really simple but i think that actually making big lifestyle changes is much less about summoning up colossal amounts of willpower and much more about making small but important tweaks to the way you think about/approach diet and exercise. here are five things that have been helpful to me.

(1) don’t think of diet changes in terms of restrictions (i.e., “what delicious cozy sugary things do i have to deprive myself of today to be Good”). instead, approach diet changes as a fun little game of adding in as many good things as possible (fruits, veggies, leafy green things, nuts of all kinds, whole grains, beans, etc.). every single time you are preparing a meal or looking for a snack, describe it to yourself as a chance to be creative and resourceful, as you think about fun ways to add in small good things every time you eat. especially in the early weeks, don’t restrict foods from your diet at all. focus solely on finding a creative way to add in something healthy and delicious every time you eat. (i really liked using the daily dozen checklist when i was starting out—they have an app and it’s very satisfying and fun to see how many things you can check off the list each day.)

(2) narrate this “adding-in” game aloud to yourself. for example: “oh—what if i eat a big handful of berries on top of that ice cream?”, or “i’m hungry—ooh, there are carrots in the fridge, aren’t there? i’ll eat three carrots with hummus before i switch over to pita chips”). and every time you figure out a creative way to add in a good food, stop and observe yourself doing it, and let yourself feel a little spark of delight at how clever and creative you’re being. this sounds silly, but i swear it works! part of changing your habits is changing self-talk & especially changing the kind of running narrative you have in your head about who you are and what you do. you can change that narrative in part by repeatedly reframing the way you tell it to yourself, ideally aloud (or aloud in your head) to help you can better “hear” and internalize the new story. instead of “ugh... i ate ice cream again. why don’t i have any self-control? why am i someone who just eats like crap?”, you’re offering your brain an alternate story, one that focuses less on things you perceive yourself as lacking, or on things you ‘failed’ to do, and more on the creative, positive things you did do (“i wasn’t going to eat any fruit today, but wasn’t it great that i remembered we had those frozen berries in the fridge? that’s pretty creative and resourceful of me, and plus it’s a good way to use up something i’d forgotten i even had”).

the “noticing and feeling delighted” part is just as important. to successfully change a habit, you need to find creative ways to make the new habit pleasurable in and of itself. the more pleasure you feel when you do it, the more self-reinforcing the habit itself becomes. you might not experience eating healthy foods as intensely pleasurable (at least at first, especially if you are comparing them with the intense brain-hacking pleasure that super sugary foods give us). so don’t try! instead, focus on making the choice a source of pleasure and delight. "look at how clever i was! look at how creative i can be! look at what a good choice i made! look at how good i am at this game of adding in!” that act of stopping, narrating, and letting yourself feel genuinely pleased with what you’ve just done makes the choice to add something in pleasurable, which in turn can help fuel your sense that this isn’t about having iron willpower or about cruelly depriving yourself of delicious things, but is about playing a fun little game with yourself, creating little challenges or puzzles for yourself throughout the day and then giving yourself positive reinforcement when you figure them out.

(3) manage your environment to set yourself up for success. to paraphrase the atomic habits book: the people who seem to have the best willpower are the people who have to exercise it the least. and they have to exercise it the least because they’ve very effectively managed their environment, arranging things so that the desired choices are easy and “frictionless,” while the undesired choices or habits are more inconvenient or introduce more friction (it’s harder to get to them).

the easy starter version of this (from atomic habits): put the things you want to eat in highly visible places and/or in appealing arrangements, and put the things you don't want to eat in places that aren't visible or that are inconvenient to access. ice cream goes in the very back of the fridge, buried behind all the other stuff. nuts go in a bowl on your desk so that you can idly snack on them while you work. apples and bananas go in a big brightly colored bowl right on the counter, so that every time you pass through the kitchen your eyes are drawn to them. chips go in the bottom cupboard, the one below eye level that you don't use very often, and when you get them out you pour some into a bowl and put them right back in there (instead of leaving the bag out on the counter). make the choice you want to make easy, and make the choice you don't want to make harder to get to.

eventually, the most effective way of managing your environment is just to exercise total control over what comes into your own living space. for me, if i don’t want to eat it, i don’t have it in the house. i typically also place a curbside delivery grocery order so that i don’t have to go into the store—anything that comes into my house is something i made a deliberate choice about ordering, not something i wandered by a shelf and added to my cart because i wanted a treat. something i’ve learned about myself over the years that moderation is just not in my vocabulary—i’m an all-or-nothing person, and it’s SO much easier for me to just not have stuff i don’t want to eat in the house. no ice cream in the house. no alcohol in the house. no fried things, no chips, no candy, etc etc. if someone kindly brings me baked goods that i did not ask for, i genuinely appreciate the gesture, but as soon as they leave i give them to my next door neighbor or dump them in the trash. (SORRY TO PEOPLE WHO BAKE FOR ME!) if it's in the house i'll eat it. if it's not, i won't, and i also won't miss it.

i did do this pretty gradually at first, though! when i switched to a primarily whole food plant-based diet, i focused on playing the adding-in game for a couple weeks, and then when i started getting competitive about it i decided to use my grocery order as a way of creatively boosting my fruit/veggie/etc consumption even more, and in the process i started winnowing out things that took away chances to add in a good thing. i would say it took about three or four weeks to get to my personal ideal state of Nope I Don't Have It In The House.

it takes time, but i’d say that within a month of having only things you want to eat in the house, your cravings will be gone, at least within your own managed environment (going to restaurants or traveling DOES require you to exercise willpower, but there are ways to prepare for this in advance). the good news, though, is that 6-8 months or so of eating like this usually brings with it such improved sleep, mood, energy levels, skin, hair, GI function, etc etc that you start to be like oh my GOD why would i want to eat that horrifying thing?? I KNOW HOW BAD IT MAKES ME FEEL!! I WANT TO POWER MY BODY WITH PLANTS!!!!! in other words, the pleasurable side effects of eating well becomes positively reinforcing in its own right, while the negative effects you experience when you reintroduce sugar or fried things tends to reinforce the idea that those foods Feel Bad.

(4) it's not exercise, it's movement. i too used to hate exercise and found it extremely painful and tedious and horrible. so instead of exercising i just started moving. i canceled my membership at the local dog bar, where i had been taking my dog almost every day to let him run off excess energy, and started talking short walks with him twice a day instead. if you don’t have a dog, offer to walk your friends’ dogs—trust me they will lose their MINDS with joy lol. i think that starting to build in regular walks is the best way to get active again, because walking is typically quite pleasant and it becomes positively reinforcing to like, wave at the same neighbors every day, and see the cute kids next door running around, and notice all the ways that the trees and flowers are changing, and so on.

if you do not find being outside inherently pleasurable (sometimes i do not lol esp if i’m grumpy about having to walk the dog), tie another pleasurable activity to your daily walk. i listen to about six hours’ worth of hockey podcasts a week and i am only allowed to listen to them on my walks, so i end up looking forward to the walk because i’m desperate to hear people talk about My Guys. you can also walk with friends, or call a friend while you’re walking, which is even better than podcasts!! social walks are so much fun and go by so much more quickly. i started out just doing daily 15 min walks, and over the past couple years have built up to walking between 60-90 min a day when i’m at home. sometimes i hate/dread my walk; sometimes i love it and look forward to it. but regardless of how i’m feeling, i do it every day and if i miss it once, i don’t miss it a second time.

as far as activity goes, i think it’s totally ok to just be a person who walks a lot! but i’ve found that becoming someone who walked a lot helped change my own narrative of myself—I started to think of myself as a walker, an active person who moved a lot every day. and that made it easier to pick up other forms of activity too, or at least to adopt a curious, exploratory attitude towards other forms of movement. also once you start tracking your active minutes you tend to get quite competitive about it! or at least i do, lol. i keep a note on my phone where i write down the date + type of activity + total number of minutes I did after every burst of activity, then at the end of the week i add it all up and compare it to the previous weeks. it makes me want to do more, to beat my own numbers—or it makes me want to keep up a streak (like, if i have a five-week period where i’ve consistently hit a certain level of active minutes every week, i don’t want to break it!!).

my biggest suggestion for exercise, though, is to figure out what kinds of things you enjoy and what kinds of things you don’t, and then to spend all your time doing things you like. i HATE structured fitness classes and workout videos. i hate them so much!!!!!!!! but i love being outside, i love doing solo activities (as opposed to group workouts), and i love doing any form of movement that doesn’t feel like a Planned Workout, capital w. also becoming a hockey fan got me really interested in skating, so i picked up rollerblades and found that to be amazingly fun too (something i can do outside AND something that feels like gliding around effortlessly AND something that makes me feel closer to My Favorite Guys!!!!). you may not have passionate feelings about hockey fandom as i do, but i think it’s really just about being creative—finding a creative way to link something you don’t love to something you do love, or find pleasurable, so that you can start forging those positive associations.

i spent my first couple years of being more active just walking walking walking, and then this past year during the pandemic when i really ramped up my movement i added in longer walks, hikes, and rollerblading, and i also looked for ways to “habit-stack,” ie attaching an activity i don’t much care for (running; exercise biking indoors; doing squats and lunges) to one i do enjoy (i take my tennis shoes when i go skating and then go for a run immediately afterwards, before i have time to talk myself out of it). there are still all kinds of things i don’t do—i really don’t love strength training + bodyweight exercises yet, and i hate stretching even though I Know I Should, and i know that if i want to get stronger and faster, or build up my endurance, i will eventually need to introduce some element of structured training into my daily movement.

BUT the idea of making those changes seems kind of cool to me now, instead of Horrifying and Dread-Inducing! i feel like all the positive associations i’ve forged have made me more curious and open to ideas i would’ve resisted with my whole being not all that long ago. i found a way to make movement pleasurable, and then (thanks to sports fandom + my tendency to go down research rabbitholes) i found a way to get myself intellectually and emotionally engaged in the general concept of being a highly active person. for me, that combination of real pleasure + intellectual/emotional stimulation is what i personally need to build & maintain good habits.

(also, just shoehorning this in at the end because i like it: the “it’s movement, not exercise” mindset shift was also really helpful to me because it stopped me from thinking of exercise as like, this highly structured, regimented, torturous thing you forced yourself through for a set period of time each day, and helped me instead think of movement as something that humans are designed to do & to naturally enjoy. instead of Forcing Myself to Exercise, i looked for more natural-feeling forms of movement that didn’t feel so artificially divided from my “real life.” i think that helped with reframing my self-narrative, too! it made being active feel more integrated into my daily life, which in turn made it easier to think of myself as an active person, someone for whom movement was just a normal part of daily life and not a thing i had to psych myself up to do every day.)

(5) it takes time to build good habits, but not nearly as much time as you might think, and eventually you stop thinking about how long you’ve been doing something and you just start enjoying it (ie it becomes a genuine change in your lifestyle/thinking, not an artificial thing you have to work hard every day to maintain).

i am not yet AN ATHLETE and may never be, but i often remind myself that it took me a little under 30 years to build up a PROFOUND aversion to exercise, so it’s actually kind of miraculous that in just two years i’ve become someone who genuinely, earnestly, enthusiastically enjoys being active and feels antsy/weird/restless when i can’t get out of the house and move. every small stride i’ve made has strengthened my trust in myself and helped me reframe the narrative i tell myself about what kind of person i am and what i do/don’t do. every time i do the thing (whether it’s exercising or making a delicious healthy dinner) & happily notice myself doing it, i reaffirm to myself that i’m the kind of person who takes care of my body and mind by eating well and spending lots of time moving outside. (as a side benefit, when i spend a lot of time happily noticing things and speaking encouragingly to myself, i also reaffirm to myself that i am a happy person who treats myself kindly and who is always eagerly seeking out experiences that feel joyful and life-affirming.)

plus, the more often you do something, the more opportunities you have to have positive experiences while doing it! not every walk is AMAZING, LIFE-CHANGING, DEEPLY FULFILLING, but like, if i am walking seven days a week, that’s seven opportunities for something cool or fun to happen on a walk (not to mention seven opportunities to reap all the physiological & emotional well-being benefits of exercise!!). and if i am really conscious and intentional about noticing and actively delighting in those positive experiences, i help wire in those positive associations more deeply, and my brain/body increasingly comes to associate movement with happiness, joy, and fulfillment. as the habit of being more active becomes fulfilling in and of itself, i don’t have to expend as much energy tricking or cajoling or bribing myself into doing it.

i hope this helps!! i am literally always happy to write extremely long essays in respond to simple anon questions, lol, so if you want to talk more about your own ideas for building better habits please do share!! i can also rec you specific books that i’ve found really useful—both for just like, helping me figure out how to make big changes, and also for providing that intellectual stimulation that gets me more engaged in wanting to eat well & be more active.

(also, on the extremely slim chance that you are also a hockey fan: over in my fandom sphere, we are organizing a fun summer thing inspired by one of our fave hockey players, where we’ll be planning lots of fun fannish community things to get ourselves moving this summer. it’s going to be a good time!!)

#food #movement #mw

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The Interrim-Red Groom AU

So i’m diving backward into the ‘Dont worry about it’ pool after that finale

SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT YOU GUYS WHO’S UP FOR MORE PRINCESS BRIDE AU?

I had to make an entire scene up because for the Story to keep going Princess Bride Style Red Son needed to get fucked over one more time

Soon enough three days time had passed and Red Son was ready to make his escape. Due to the nature of his ruse against the prince he hadn't made any arrangements to set up a forge or workshop for his passions, so he didn't have much by way of equipment to make his escape, and every day the prince asked to join him for at least one meal, wherein he would 'politely' ask over Xiaotian, claiming to want to know a little about the man whom had stolen his groom right out from under him.

He said these things in jest and laughter, but Red Son was no fool and could easily see the flint behind his eyes, ready and willing to twist any information Red Son gave about Xiaotian against him, to try and convince him that his beloved wouldn't take him back. Willing to take whatever details he gave him and put them in some falsified letter of rejection in attempt to make him believe his love wanted him no more, so he wouldn't put up a fight any longer.

So he lied. He spoke of not the Inn that he'd met Xiaotian in, but implied he'd always been the lord of his mountain. How they hadn't been able to be engaged due to his parents having a letter of neutrality between his family and Xiaotian's own, and how he'd had to go on a perilous journey to nullify that arrangement, but they'd believed him dead. He told him Xiaotian favored poetry, and was in fact a gifted shapeshifter, preferring a more human appearance like himself as it made travel far easier when people underestimated you.

The prince had soon grown bored of his prattling, and Red Son found it almost ironic that for once he was not speaking of tinkering and his projects when his conversational partner stopped listening. After those meals scarce as they were, the prince ended up straightening his back primly and claimed he had a meeting of some sort with his macaque general, and left him to his devices.

So now here he was, ready to make his escape.

It took actually took the longest time to try and pare down an outfit from this place so that it would be inconspicuous enough to use for travel, but he'd managed, sneaking some nonperishable food and a spare dagger into his pack for preparation and extra protection had been easy. He just made it seem to the servants that he was still anticipating the response to a letter that was never sent, and eagerly awaiting for a letter that would not exist that stated his return to Xiaotian's mountain was expected, and thus was slowly yet steadily prepping for the journey. The pitying glances he could sense the servants shooting him definitely told that they were aware of the fact that he was being 'tricked'.

But Red Son paid them no mind, after all, he knew the prince was full of lies, and he was going to be gone before the night's end anyway.

But then Red Son was summoned for his usual meal with the prince, and he willed his nerves to freeze over. He couldn't let his plans slip, while he'd long since regained his strength form his injuries in the forest he was only one demon and there was a mountain of servants and guards that would be standing between him and making a break for it if he didn't have stealth on his side.

“Beloved.” The prince greeted him as he entered. “My messengers have returned from their trip.” In three days time? How oblivious did he take him for?

Nonetheless he perked up, did his best to look eager and excited. He was never quite sure if he looked convincing, but he just needed to pretend for a few more hours.

The letter was brought right over to him, and he quickly undid the seal to reveal a message that in no way was written by his love. Though they did a good job at pretending, claiming it was written by 'his mother'—Xiaotian had never spoken of his biological parents, and his adoptive ones were both men, but in his prattling Red Son had invented a mother for his fake backstory—and that she was writing in 'her Son's stead as he was too upset and angry to be able to make a readable response. Going on to say that Xiaotian had returned to 'their mountain' in tears and had sworn that this was one too many cruelties Red Son had delivered him, and that he never wanted to speak to someone so two faced he convinced him twice of their supposed love only to twice have his heart ground into the dirt by him ever again.

It was well phrased, he'd give the prince that. It even stung a little when the supposed 'mother' had regaled that 'Xiaotian' had bitterly given 'his blessing' to his impending marriage. The thought of his love, bitter and betrayed, felt so wrong his heart hurt just at the idea.

But he couldn't let himself linger on that lest he lose his courage.

“This cannot be...” he breathed, hoping beyond all hope his knowledge of the deception read as simply denial.

“Is there something wrong?” The Prince asked around his cup. “Surely your beloved made it home safely.”

“This cannot be...” he didn't know what else to say without possibly giving himself away, so he could only hope that it sounded like shock.

“Beloved?”

He stood, he had to get out of the prince's sight before he failed to properly mask his knowledge.

“This is a lie! She... She never approved of us!” Red Son hoped at least that gave his reaction plausible deniability.

“Didn't you recently just regale to me that Xiaotian's mother loved you as a suitor for her son?” He cursed internally, but before he could scramble to cover the lie the prince continued. “Beloved, I know it must be hard to hear, but we had an agreement. Xiaotian wants no more to repair what he believed you threw away, his mother;s missive reveals as much. You gave me your word that no matter his desire you would respect his choices. Don't be selfish, love.” Red Son would be lying yet more if he claimed that that didn't sting a little.

But he'd get to that bridge when he got to it, so he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The servants gave him a wide berth as he marched towards his rooms, face fierce but mind preoccupied with escape plans.

So preoccupied in fact he didn't notice a particular shadow following behind him.

Upon reaching his quarters he made sure to scare off any staff that would rat him out and began to scream, his fire coursing and bursting out from his body in waves, scorching the furniture around him and leaving piles of soot to build up atop his shoes. Soon enough the room had enough damage for word of his fury to have been carried to the prince, and the servants far too afraid to make their way in for quite some time. He'd have about an hour of being given a very wide berth before someone came in to check up on him.

Red Son darted for his bed and hidden among the luxurious blankets was his makeshift bag, he double checked the contents inside and nodded to himself when he came to the conclusion that everything was in order. Then he approached the writing desk and reached beneath it. Feeling around for a moment he grinned slightly to himself as he pulled out the small bottle. He'd always gotten praises in potion making, but this wasn't a potion that would make his tutors proud. He didn't NEED any magical properties in it, he just needed it to be flammable.

Which it was.

Just as he went over his plan one more time the shadows in the room seemed to flicker, and Red Son felt strikingly cold despite the amount of fire he'd just unleashed.

“I told him you were more clever than he was expecting out of you.” The voice startling him and nearly causing Red Son to drop the potion in his hands, he scrambled with the glass bottle and turned to the source of the noise.

The Six eared macaque had appeared in his room, how had he gotten in there without him noticing?

“Oh... I uhm...” He didn't have a lie prepared, Red Son's mind raced to try and come up with a plausible excuse but improvisation was never his strong suit, he would so quickly grow flustered and frustrated and usually do himself in so how could he be expected to lie convincingly on first bout?

“Don't waste a perfectly good lie trying to cover up what we both already know.” The macaque stated, a sort of boredom in his voice that made Red Son stiffen. “You know the letter was false, you know what the prince has planned for you.” The macaque took a step forward and Red Son prepared to fight him, but remembered after a beat the fire resistance charm he'd had on his person scant few days ago. He likely had it on him right now.

“I love it, he can't stand it, but I love it... Of course that also means his plans are a complete waste of your talents as far as I'm concerned. If he hadn't planned that whole 'spider queen and her ilk' situation Your lover wouldn't have found out until it was too late, and we probably could have convinced you to go to war if he'd just been a bit more patient.”

“You're talking an awful lot for someone who supposedly is on his side.”

“I'm on MY side, highness.” The macaque said easily. “The Prince is no one to sneeze at, but then again, neither are you. Tell me, should I endorse this little sneak about and help you escape? What would benefit me from not telling the prince about your little explosive and your plans?”

He racked his brain for a moment. “I can tell my parents of your assistance in enabling my escape, they'd no doubt give you the same power you have here, accompanied by my family's resources you'd find yourself with more force behind yourself than you'd know what to do with. Or if I told Xiaotian he could do the same at his own mountain, he's not exactly a nobody either-”

That second part was a mistake, by how the macaque's expression darkened. “Yes I know He's the 'New Monkey King'. Sun Wukong's Body double.” He stated simply. But before Red Son could take it back or just ensure alliance with his own family, he found his arms being restrained. A pair of clones made of shadow clung to his sides and while they dispersed quickly under his fire it was only for a moment.

Then there was a golden glow, and his arms all at once felt very heavy indeed as a cold pair of cuffs—the second set of wrist cuffs that the macaque had shown him- how had he forgotten about those?—activated and forced his wrists together. The magic quickly worked its way through his system again and he felt a cold shudder wrack up his spine.

“Your 'beloved' was quite loose lipped once I got him going on the machine. Don't hold it against him, highness, I haven't met a single man that could hold up against that level of pain.”

for a moment the words didn't process in his head, abut when they did any other thought flew right from his head.

There was only rage.

It was pathetic really, how quickly he'd been apprehended, how his fire had only a moment outside his body before once again being turned back round onto him, and his body—now remembering the pain he could do onto himself—forced his magic to cease. There was no instinctual blaze to shatter the cuffs this time, because he realized as more of the macaque's shadow clones pinned him down, that he didn't believe him.

There was no way that Xiaotian had been this monster's plaything. He had learned whatever it was he'd implied he'd learned through other methods, maybe as simple as recognizing Flower Fruit Mountain and Xiaotian had to explain the situation to him.

But If it was just his own escape the macaque was stopping then wouldn't he have not wasted the time in toying with him like that? Wouldn't he have just told the prince and been done with it? Put the cuffs on him without the monologue? Why would he waste his time in trying to trick Red son into believing him possible to sway?

Unless-

Unless he'd heard about Xiaotian planning on coming back for him himself

He almost wanted to laugh even as the clones forced him back to his feet and the Macaque crushed his liquid fireball in his hand. He was unsure if anything could make him as fearful or angry or whatever feeling it had been to make him break his restraints again as they did back in the forest, but it explained his knowledge of Xiaotian's identity, as well as his anger, and his attempt to trick Red Son. To test to see how far Red Son was willing to go to to defy the prince and follow his own heart.

But that didn't matter.

Xiaotian was coming for him.

It was a bitter medicine to take, to have to once again rely on his love to save him, rendered with naught but his intelligence on his side and left close to defenseless with these stupid cuffs back around his wrists, but He'd make it up to him.

For everything Xiaotian had done for him and how thoroughly Red Son had proved himself unworthy of such devotion, Red Son swore then to himself, that once this was all over, once he and Xiaotian were safe he'd make it all up to him. For every moment for the rest of their shared lives together.

Because when he saw him again he was never letting go.

–

“Captain I've heard rumors that the Monkey King is planning on killing my groom.’”

“My prince I've heard no such rumors-”

“Are you implying my spymaster lies to me?”

“Of- of course not my prince! What must be done to protect your groom before the wedding?”

“I'm currently having my beloved moved to a safer, more secure room in the palace to ensure no harm shall befall him before the wedding date, and we're moving the wedding itself up a few days. Go to the village and nearby forest, and the closest town, and round up all with former criminal histories. I want every possible hired gun behind bars by the time of my wedding in three days time.”

“Three days time your highness? Such a feat would require more men than we have at our disposal at the moment-”

“Then form a brute squad! You have my clearance! I want my prince safe from all harm! If He dies, then we'll have no choice but to go to war and we lack the men for such an insurgence against the Monkey King! I would have to go to his parents begging for assistance and that is not a bar I am willing to lower myself to!”

“Yes your highness!”

“Go! Waste no time!”

“Of course!”

–

Xiaojiao stared into the bottom of the jug of wine. Drained, just like all the others.

Her head was pleasantly fuzzy and the wine in her blood buzzed comfortably. It was a familiar state, she wasn't dependent on intoxication, but when she was at her lowest she would often find solace in the buzzed pleasantness of a good bender. Because here she was again.

No work, no leads, no friends.

Spider Queen had told her if they got separated that she should go back to where 'it started' i.e. The inn they'd gotten the job at. So she'd rented a room, and spent the next few days waiting, and when it became clear neither the Spider Queen, nor even Sandy were turning up, when Xiaojiao was made aware that she was well and truly alone, she blew most of her money on as much wine as she could get her hands on and began to chug.

She felt much like the scared twelve year old she once was, clinging to the handle of the Jade Sword and telling herself it didn't matter how terrified she was, as she HAD to fight. Her scar twinged at the memory.

At least no one would sell wine to a twelve year old. She didn't USED to be this pathetic when she was lonely and sad and on the verge of despair. She used to have other avenues to vent it all when it became too much.

Someone could storm right in right now with news on finding the Six Eared Macaque and Xiaojiao couldn't even be sure if she'd believe them for how despondent she felt.

“Long Xiaojiao?” A voice broke her reverie. Xiaojiao blinked blearily up at the tough looking fellow before her.

“Who wants to know?” she slurred.

“You've been arrested twice for assault and once for theft, as a security precaution all with criminal records are behind detained for the next three days by order of the prince.”

She scoffed. “I'd like to see you try, buddy.” Her fingers felt heavy but she lifted the sword easily.

Her form was off, her limbs felt loose and limp, but she still held her own against the brute's clumsy axe swings. It would be pathetic to lose to this chump.

But before the fight could be solved one way or another, a pair of blue hands wrapped around the brute's torso and lifted him into the air.

And Xiaojiao was met with a very familiar (if blurry through her impaired vision) red bearded smile.

“Sandy!”

“Xiaojiao! So nice to see you again!” Sandy set the brute down but kept hold of his torso. “This is the friend I told you about captain, she's far more dangerous alone than she is with me. I'll keep her out of trouble, I can promise you that!”

She loved watching Sandy loom. The aura around him making anyone who didn't know him reel back as every alarm in their brains fired off danger signs. His pleasant grin and tone didn't change but to the people around them that was more frightening than before.

“Just mark her name right off there and I can handle the rest!” Sandy chirped and the shaking brute did just that, stiffly turning and marching out of the inn.

“Sandy you old bastard.” She cooed delightedly as Sandy shifted his focus back onto her and she felt the cool blue hands wrap around her own torso before she was pulled into a hug.

“You smell like wine, Are you okay, Xiaojiao you don't drink unless...-” Sandy shot her a far too knowing look.

“I've been better buddy, I'll admit.”

“Well, If it helps I've heard a lot of rumors and seen a lot of things as part of this little 'brute squad' some things that might interest you.”

“Hm?” She leaned into Sandy's embrace, her friend really gave the absolute best hugs.

“I think I found the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaojiao wasn't sure if it was disbelief, shock, sudden crashing cresting hope, or just the wine, but she suddenly got very dizzy.

And then everything went black.

#Monkie kid #LMK #Princess Bride AU #Red groom AU #MK Red Son #Six eared macaque #Long Xiaojiao #MK Sandy #Vega writes stories too #-shuffling Season 2 thoughts under the rug-#it's fine it's fine who wants some princess bride as a distraction?#it's fine it's fine #spicynoodleshipping

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'. "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

#penismp #penis smp #fanfiction #minecraft #my writing #crack #crack treated seriously #also on ao3 #penisunavailable #milfboss #shittyfartbaby69 #admiral_anus

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marjansmarwani · 4 years

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You Can Learn to Love (Again)

A Tarlos Teacher AU // 14.3K

[Read on ao3]

TK Strand needs a fresh start. He needs to get as far away from the memories and temptations of NYC as he possibly can so when he finds an opening at a prestigious high school in Austin, he jumps at the chance.

As things fall into place he is surprised to find just how well he fits into Austin; how well this new life he built for himself suits him. There’s only one complication: another (insanely attractive) English teacher by the name of Carlos Reyes whose existence does not fit into TK’s carefully constructed plans. The universe, however, seems to have another plan entirely.

Or, the Teacher AU absolutely no one asked for.

Welcome to the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written! I had a good time writing it and I ended up really liking it though, and I hope you do too. Huge shoutout to @officerrxyes for helping me with the edits and putting it up me throughout the entire process.

-----

This is not how he had wanted to start his first day. He had been hoping to make a good impression, maybe make it through the first week without drawing too much attention to himself.

The universe had other plans, it seemed.

It had started with the traffic. He was still new to the area and had severely underestimated how heavy traffic was in this city (really, who knew?) Thankfully he had been nervous enough that he had left his apartment almost an hour earlier than he should have had to for a 4-mile drive, which had gotten him here with about 10 minutes to spare.

If it had just been that, it would have been fine. He could have shaken it off, gotten into his classroom and been ready to face the day with plenty of time before his students showed up. But no, it couldn’t be that simple. Instead, he was stuck here, in his current predicament.

By the time he arrived there was not a parking spot to be found. He had anxiously circled the parking lot twice before spotting an empty space miraculously close to the front doors. He thought maybe his luck had finally changed - until he tried to open his door. The car next to him was parked so close that he could barely even get his door more than an inch let alone wide enough to get out. He glanced over to the passenger side to find that car was almost as close. He banged his head against the steering wheel in frustration. Of course. Of fucking course - he had moved across the country, managed to get a job in one of the best high schools in the state, and now he was going to blow it because he was trapped in his car. Typical.

He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before examining the situation again. There might just be enough room on the passenger side to open the door and squeeze out. Then he would just have to wait long enough that the other cars would be gone before he tried to leave at the end of the day. Totally doable — he just had to climb over the center counsel. He examined the layout and sighed. There was no way to do this gracefully. He took a silent moment to mourn his nice professional wrinkle-free first-day outfit before he resigned himself to the inevitable.

He had known it was not going to be a graceful process, but he had still underestimated exactly how awkward it would be. He cleared the counsel and got one foot on the ground outside the passenger door before carefully sliding himself out, careful not to let his door hit the car beside him. Once he had both feet on the ground he reached back in to grab his bag, which he pulled out before closing the door and walking to the back of the car. Once he was free of the confined space he took a deep breath as he smoothed out his clothes, wiping away any wrinkles.

“That was pretty impressive,” someone noted, voice full of amusement.

TK spun around to find an incredibly attractive man standing behind him, looking him over with a raised eyebrow. TK wanted to shoot back something clever but instead he tripped over his words, stuttering through half-formed thoughts before he blurted out “thanks.”

Inwardly, he groaned. Because this morning hadn’t been bad enough - now he was a stuttering mess in front of this guy who possibly had the most gorgeous eyes TK had ever seen and had just used those eyes to watch TK climb out of his own car like a contortionist. He was really winning today.

“Anytime,” the stranger returned with a grin. They stood there, not saying anything for a few more moments until the stranger continued, “Well I guess I should,” he trailed off gesturing towards the building. TK nodded vaguely before a glance at his watch pulled him back to reality, “Oh, yeah. Me too.”

“Well, I hope you have a good first day. My name is Carlos, by the way.”

“TK,” he offered, plastering on what he hoped was a charming smile.

Carlos grinned at him, “I’ll see you around, TK.”

And with that, he was gone. TK watched him walk away until the snap of the door closing behind him dragged him back to the present. He glanced at his watch again only to see that he only had two minutes before he would officially be late for his first day.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself before hiking his bag up in his shoulder and sprinting towards the door.

------

“Don’t forget to get those syllabi signed!” TK called to the retreating backs of his second-period freshman class. “Whether or not you think it’s stupid does not change the fact that it is an easy grade!”

This earned a few chuckles from the students still gathering their things and he flashed a grin at them. Despite the rough start, the morning has actually gone pretty well. His first two classes had gone smoothly and the kids seemed like a good bunch. He was optimistic about the year. Now he was looking at his first prep period of the day and since there was no grading to tackle yet he figured this was as good of a time as any to try to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Plus, he needed to find the copier. He had printed out the syllabi for the first day on his home printer but there was no way he was going to keep doing that. He fully intended to use the school provided resources, thank you very much.

He was just about to grab his ID and keys and head out in pursuit of a copy machine or faculty room when someone stepped into his classroom. TK recognized him but couldn’t put a name to the face.

“Hey Mr. Strand, I just wanted to stop by to see how your first day was going. I’m Judd Ryder, one of the Assistant Principals.”

TK smiled at him, crossing over to shake his hand, “I remember you, you were on my interview committee, right?”

He nodded, “That’s right. I was pretty impressed by you, I think you’ll do great things here.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, I hope I can live up to it,” TK responded, a little taken aback by the praise.

Mr. Ryder shrugged, “I was impressed by your thoughts on curriculum, but really I think you’re going to do a good job connecting to the students. You’ve got the freshman this year and they need that. That connection might be the difference between failure and success for some of them.”

TK nodded, unsure of how to respond. He fiddled with his lanyard for a moment before the AP laughed, shaking his head; “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you - my wife is always telling me I don’t need to voice every thought that pops into my head and, well clearly that’s a problem for me.”

TK relaxed and smiled at the older man, “It’s fine, it’s nice to hear such good things, it’s just the first day and all—a lot to take in, you know?”

Ryder nodded, “I hear that. Anything I could help with?”

“Actually, yeah—any chance you could point me towards a copier? My printer at home will never recover if I try to do much more with it.”

“Sure thing, I’ll take you there. It’s on my way anyways,” he said over TK’s protests, “no trouble at all.”

They step into the hallway and once TK is sure the door to his classroom is shut and locked behind him they move down the hall, back towards the main hallway. Judd keeps up a steady stream of conversation all the way and TK nods and makes noises of agreement where necessary. It’s not that he doesn’t like Judd, he’s just not used to such an amicable relationship with administrators. It had never been like that in any of his previous schools. He liked the feeling of familiarity but knew that it would be a while before he ever completely bought into it. He was much more likely to err on the side of polite professionalism.

They had arrived at the faculty room now and as TK went to open the door it swung open as another teacher stepped out. He was a little older than TK and his eyes went wide as he halted inches from colliding with him. Judd laughed from behind TK, “Well I was going to say you two should meet at some point, so I guess now is as good a time as any. TK Strand, meet Paul Strickland, one of our Earth Science teachers. He’s also your neighbor.”

Paul grinned and stuck out his hand, “it’s good to meet you, man. I was going to stop by later on, but bumping into each other works too I guess.”

TK chuckled and took the offered hand, “I suppose it does. So you’re my neighbor, huh?”

Paul nodded, “And part of the grade level team. You’ll actually be seeing the rest of us in a bit—we have common planning 5th period.”

TK nodded, he had noticed that on the schedule. “Cool, well, I’ll see you then. In the meantime, I should get some copies done while I have a chance.”

“Don’t use tray 3—it always jams.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Don’t mention it; I know how much it sucks to have to spend your entire prep clearing out a paper jam.”

“Still, I appreciate it.”

Paul nodded and then with another smile and a wave to Judd, he was gone. They watched him go for a second before Judd spoke again, “You have a solid team to work with in your wing, I’m sure you’ll all get along fine.”

“I think you might be onto something,” TK agreed. Then, with another thanks, he stepped into the faculty room, leaving the Assistant Principal behind.

---

Two periods later and TK was starting to remember how exhausting the first week of school was. The endurance it took to do this all day was nothing to scoff at, and each year in September it needed to be built up again. Somehow each year, he managed to forget that. As the last of the 4th-period stragglers filed out he sank into his desk chair and leaned back, allowing himself to take a deep breath. All he wanted to do was sleep for a week, but he still had common planning, hall duty, one more class, and an apartment full of boxes waiting to be unpacked. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

A knock at his door wrenched him from his fantasies of peaceful sleep. He jumped to his feet, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes as he looked towards the door to find Paul and two others standing on the threshold.

“The first week is always the hardest, isn’t it?” Paul noted as he invited himself into the room, the other two at his heels.

TK nodded, only cutting off for a yawn, “You could say that,” he finally got out.

Paul gave him a sympathetic grin before turning to his two companions. “Guys, this is TK Strand, the new English teacher. TK,” he said turning to face him, “this is Marjan Marwani and Mateo Chavez, Math and Social Studies teachers respectively.”

TK gave them each a nod and a smile. “So, we’re the ninth grade team?”

“One of them,” Marjan confirmed, settling onto one of the desks. “So you better get used to us - we’re stuck together and you get to see our lovely faces every day for this common planning period.”

“Where do we meet for that, by the way?”

“Your room of course,” Marjan said with a raised eyebrow, “the newbie always hosts.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “She’s kidding,” he informed TK, “but we do usually meet in here because there are more tables so it’s easier to spread out.”

“Fine with me,” TK replied with a shrug, “you guys are more than welcome.”

The others smiled their thanks before Mateo spoke up.

“So TK,” he asked in what was clearly meant to be a casual tone, “how long have you been teaching?”

TK raised an eyebrow, “This is my 4th year, why?”

“Damn it,” Mateo swore mournfully as Marjan let out a bright burst of laughter.

When TK shot Paul a confused look he stifled his own laughter long enough to explain, “Mateo here is our probie. He’s only in his second year and he’s desperately hoping to find someone lower on the totem pole than him. You being new to the district and pretty young, he thought maybe he had a chance.”

Now TK grinned outright as he turned his gaze back to Mateo, “sorry to disappoint you probie, but I already put in my time as the newbie. You have my sympathies though.”

Mateo pouted as the other two laughed lightly at him. TK shook his head fondly and sat on one of the desks to survey this group—his new team.

As Marjan crossed to Mateo to ruffle his hair and Paul rolled his eyes at the pair while not quite being able to hide his smile, something settled in TK’s gut. They were going to get along just fine. More than that, TK had a feeling that as long as he had this group at his side he’d be fine. Maybe, despite the disastrous beginning, this year might not be the disaster he feared after all.

---

After the first day, things went pretty smoothly. He’d settled into a routine and beyond the usual unpredictable nature of teenagers, he had everything under control. He was feeling pretty confident about this change—for once he may have actually made the right choice. He wanted to savor that feeling, but there was still one more unknown element to his work life that he hadn’t gotten to experience yet: the department meeting. So when Thursday rolled around he waved goodbye to the rest of his team and set off to find room 306.

If his past experience was anything to go on this meeting would likely be nothing more than a waste of time. Just something they are mandated to do where they talk about goals and test scores and analyze data without actually accomplishing anything actionable. But it was still something new; a potential disaster waiting around the corner for him. He’s almost convinced that’s what it’s going to be too - everything else is going far too well. Something has to give at some point.

He found the room and entered cautiously; scanning the room as he took an empty seat. Everyone else is chatting amongst themselves and while a few sent him curious glances as he entered, for the most part everyone is minding their own business. He was so focused on surveying the room that he almost jumped when the chair next to him was pulled out and someone slid into the seat beside him. He looked over to see a woman smiling at him warmly, “You must be TK Strand,” she said by way of greeting.

He nodded and her smile somehow grew as she stuck out her hand, “I’m Grace Ryder, one of the 10th grade English teachers and yes, Judd Ryder is my husband,” she confirms.

TK chuckled as he took her hand. Apparently, his surprise at hearing her name was more evident than he had thought, “It’s nice to meet you Grace, and I’m afraid I don’t have a very good poker face.”

She laughed lightly and shook her head, “No, you do not. I can’t say I blame you though - new school, first department meeting, and someone comes up and knows your name - I’d be flustered too. But my husband has mentioned you so I figured I’d check-in, make sure you weren’t left out for the sharks. They do love fresh meat.”

TK raised an eyebrow, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“They like a laugh, but from everything I’ve heard I think you’ll do just fine.”

TK was going to ask what she meant by that when her expression shifted again as she spotted something over TK’s shoulder.

“They’re not all bad though,” she said with a smile. “In fact, here’s one you should meet. Reyes!” The last part was directed at someone behind TK. He turned to see who Grace was intent on him meeting and froze.

“TK,” Grace was saying as the man walked over, “This is Carlos Reyes, one of the Senior English teachers and an all-around good egg.”

Carlos chuckled and TK felt a shock run through his body at how wonderful of a sound it was.

“You’re too nice to me Grace,” Carlos was saying as he bent down to give her a quick one-armed hug.

Grace swatted at him, “I am exactly as nice to you as you deserve. Carlos, this is TK Strand - the new Freshman English teacher.”

Carlos turned his smile on TK, who was fairly certain he was going to melt in this very spot from the warmth of it, “We’ve met, actually—in passing. I didn’t know you were in the department, how’s it been so far?”

“Good, it’s been good,” he managed to splutter out after a few moments and the mortifying realization that he had been quiet for too long and Grace and Carlos were both looking at him.

Carlos kept smiling at him, “That’s good to hear. I’m sure I’ll see you around but feel free to let me know if you need anything. I’m in room 214.”

TK nodded and then with a wave, Carlos was gone. TK shook himself from his stupor to find Grace giving him a pitying look, “Oh honey,” was all she said. Her voice was low, but it was clear she was suppressing laughter.

“What?” TK demanded, even as he could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. Grace just shook her head and let some of the laughter escape. He turned away from her petulantly but she reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry dear,” she said through her laughter, “I’m not making fun of you, really. I can’t say I can blame you either; he is quite something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded stiffly.

“Yes, I’m sure you don’t,” Grace said, making an effort to match his tone. He rolled his eyes and shot her an exasperated look but she just kept chuckling quietly even as the meeting started.

It was good to know he had been right about this meeting being the disaster he had been waiting for—it was just not the kind he had anticipated.

----

The days marched on and more and more it felt like any other school year. TK had fallen into a routine; he had found his stride. He had found his footing with his students; he had found friends in his team. This change—the new job, the new school, the new state—was going so much better than he had anticipated. When he had sent in the application, it had been on a whim. He had been floundering in the shambles of what had been and desperate for a direction, a way out. This job had seemed like a desperate hope; a future he could only dream of surrounded by the wreckage of his old hopes and plans. He had just needed a point to aim for, an exit sign to direct him out of this mess. He had never expected it to actually work.

But against all odds and his own firmly held beliefs he made it work, he hadn’t failed. It was an exciting prospect, but also a terrifying one. With things going this well, it was only a matter of time before the proverbial other shoe dropped. He does everything he can to prevent that eventuality. He works hard, throwing himself into every lesson plan and every assignment. He tackles any administrative task as soon as possible, never letting anything sit on his desk. Above all, he takes a wide berth around room 214. Carlos’s smile may live in his head rent-free, but he can’t afford a distraction. Especially not one like him —one so objectively perfect. He’s not ready for that and to be so close to the possibility would break his still-healing heart.

He almost welcomes the distraction of his traditional beginning of the year benchmark essay—right up until he gets a look at the stack awaiting grading. He is in the middle of the first period’s stack when the rest of the team walked in for common planning.

“It’s only the second week of school,” Mateo noted, “isn’t it a little early to be assigning essays?”

“No,” TK explained, looking up from the paper he was reading, “because it’s my job to get them to high school level writing by the end of the year for the sake of all of the other English teachers and I need to know where they are at now so I know what to focus on.”

Marjan leaned on the corner of his desk and poked at one of the piles apprehensively, “Learn anything yet?”

TK sighed wearily as he circled yet another use of “bc” and left a comment indicating that abbreviations may have their uses, but they did not belong in academic writing. “Yes,” he said, looking up from the paper before him, “I have learned that we have a lot of work to do.”

Mateo chuckled and Marjan winced sympathetically. Paul, who had grabbed one of the essays off the stack and was skimming it, raised an eyebrow.

“I do not envy you, man,” he noted as he replaced the paper, “and I thought trying to hammer the format of a lab report into their heads was hard. This is next level.”

“Academic writing is something completely different from what they’re used to,” TK pointed out reasonably, “It’s my job to teach them how to do it,” he paused here as he glanced back down at the paper before him. “Doesn’t make it any less painful though,” he said with another sigh.

The others settled down at and on the desks nearest to his and watched as he skimmed through another paper, pausing occasionally to make a comment or correction. After a few minutes he looked up at them, eyebrows raised.

“Are you all just going to sit there and watch me grade these or…”

Mateo shrugged and Marjan grinned back at him, “We’re offering you moral support, didn’t you know?”

He scowled and grabbed an old worksheet from the table beside him and balled it up to throw at her. She dodged it expertly and grinned even wider. Paul sighed from a nearby desk.

“Now children,” he admonished, voice filled with exasperation as he rolled his eyes at their antics.

“She started it,” TK pointed out reasonably. Paul shook his head and stood up.

“I think that as long as we can agree that there are no pressing matters to be discussed we can all take this time to work on our own grading, in our own classrooms. Any objections?”

Marjan looked like she was going to say something, but at TK’s narrowed eyes she sighed and shook her head.

“Good,” Paul declared with a nod. “Good luck with all those, man,” he added to TK as he headed to the door. TK wearily waved his thanks and then they were gone. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. He loved what he did really, but sometimes when faced with the stack of 120 essays and the reminder that other content areas didn’t have to do this, he sometimes regretted not following his father’s footsteps. Firefighters didn’t have to grade essays.

Inevitably, he would recall all of the reasons he didn’t join the family business: the long hours, the danger, the toll it had taken on his father over the years both physically and emotionally. Then he would think of all the reasons he loved teaching anyways and go back to work. This time was no exception. The only difference was that as he picked up his pen again to continue grading he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He should really call his father. It had been too long. He knew that his dad was trying to give him space, trying to give him the time he needed to adjust on his own terms; but his dad had been the one thing in New York he hadn’t needed distance from. He was the one thing he had regretted leaving. He needed to call him - he owed him that much. More than that, it would be nice to hear his voice. After he finished this class’ essays, he promised himself, he’d take a break and call his dad during his lunch.

Fate seemed to have a different plan though as the next thing TK knew students were entering his classroom. He glanced up at the clock in surprise, only to find that he had worked straight through his prep and lunch without even noticing it. He sighed and put down his pen, standing to go greet his students at the door. His dad would have to wait, it seemed. He plastered on a smile and got ready to start the lesson.

At some point, Marjan appeared in his doorway, a sheepish look on her face. He nodded to her and instructed the kids to read the next section in the text on their own and be ready to share some thoughts from it before he crossed the room to meet her.

“What’s up?” he asked, expression furrowed.

She held up the papers in her hand, “I forgot I promised the SPED teacher I would get these 408s sighed during our common planning. I have all the documents that you can look over later, but for right now could you just sign so I can get these back to her?”

He smirked at her as he took the papers; flipping through them to see what students he was signing for, “How could you have possibly forgotten? Were you so busy doing something else that maybe it slipped your mind?”

“Haha,” she responded drily, expression far from impressed. He shook his head and chuckled, but pulled a pen out of his pocket and used the wall beside the door to sign his name on the appropriate lines. He went to hand them back to her, but pulled up just short and held them just out of her reach, “do I have your word that you will provide me with the proper documentation for all these students so I can be assured I did not just commit fraud by signing these?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, I will bring them by at the end of the day.” With that she held out her hand for the papers, which he passed back to her. Then she was gone, and he turned back to his class.

“Alright, I asked you to have things to share, so who’s going to break the ice?”

There was the typical teenage silence before one of the girls in the back raised her hand tentatively, but not before glancing at her friends.

“Aniyah, what do you think?” TK asked her with a grin, perching himself on his desk.

“Mr. Strand, are you and Ms. Marwani dating?”

TK blinked at her. He glanced around at the rest of the kids in the room, none of whom seemed surprised by the question. “No,” he answered slowly, “why would you ask that?”

She shrugged awkwardly, glancing at her friends for support, “You guys just seem really close, and almost like you’re flirting?”

He shrugged, “No, we’re just friends, definitely not dating—not that it is any of your business.”

One of the boys in the front smirked at him, “I don’t know Mister, you two seem pretty friendly, I think maybe you’re in denial.”

TK met the kid’s eyes and raised a single eyebrow as he said drily, “I can assure you she’s not my type.”

Most of the kids nodded sagely, but a few seemed puzzled. He rolled his eyes and stood up, “Okay, ‘discuss Mr. Strand’s love life’ time is over. Don’t think you’re going to distract me enough that I forget about the homework. Anyone else want to share any thoughts on the reading—you know, the class work; that thing we’re here for?”

A few hands raised but even as he called on them he was chuckling to himself. Marjan was going to love this.

----

As time progresses TK sticks to his plan: do his work, make a good impression, avoid Carlos. He’s successful in that last goal too, for a while. But of course, nothing good can last and one October afternoon in the faculty room, his streak is broken.

He crossed the room towards the mailboxes without glancing around and didn't think to check his surroundings until a familiar voice called for his attention.

“Hey TK, how have things been? You settling in alright?”

He froze, slowly glancing up from the flyer about the can drive he had been reading. He knew before he saw (there was no mistaking that voice) but his heart still skipped a beat just the same.

“Carlos, hey. Yeah, it’s been great actually. No problems at all.”

Carlos grinned at him and TK had to remind himself how to breathe. “Glad to hear it. Oh,” he said suddenly, “this is Michelle Blake, one of the school social workers. And my best friend,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Michelle, apparently, gave him a pointed look.

She grinned at his addition before turning to face TK. She looked him up and down appraisingly before speaking, “It’s nice to finally meet you TK, Carlos has mentioned you.”

TK flicked his gaze to Carlos who was very intently studying the rice in his lunch and studiously avoiding both their gazes. “Nothing bad, I hope,” he said lightly.

Internally, he was panicking.

“Definitely not. Nothing but the truth I’m sure, and the truth was all good.”

“Right,” TK said with uncertainty. He waited, but Michelle did not speak again. “Well,” he said eventually, “I should get going. I just wanted to grab these flyers and then I was going to try to use the rest of my prep to try and put together a mini-unit for Halloween.”

At this, Carlos looked up, “What are you thinking?”

TK shrugged, “I was leaning towards Poe. Always a classic, and in my experience, kids have always liked his stuff.”

“I have some materials you could use, if you’d like. I’ve done that before, so I have most of the stuff in one of my binders.”

“Really?” he didn’t even bother to hide the surprise in his voice.

Carlos nodded, “Sure. You can stop by at the end of the day, if you’d like.”

TK hesitated. One the one hand, there was the pact he had made with himself: no distractions. On the other, there was a unit he wouldn’t have to plan. Which meant more prep time to spend on grading, which meant less work to take home.

“That'd be great, thanks. Room 214, right?”

As if he could have forgotten.

Carlos nodded in confirmation, “See you later then?”

“Absolutely.”

Then with a smile to the pair, TK was gone. He didn’t realize he was still grinning until he ran into Paul outside of his classroom. The other teacher looked at him suspiciously, “what has you looking so chipper?”

“Nothing,” TK said too hastily, judging by Paul’s look, “one of the other English teachers has materials I can use for a unit I wanted to do so as long as they work out, that’s an entire unit I don’t have to plan.”

Paul nodded appreciatively, “That’s a lucky break.”

TK nodded again before excusing himself and stepping into his own classroom. The rest of the day flew by and before he knew it he was seeing his last class out the door. Once they were gone and the hallway was mostly clear of students, TK grabbed his things and headed up to room 214. There’s a trophy case down the hall and he stops and anxiously checks his reflection before approaching the door to room 214. It’s open but TK hovered at the threshold nervously, knocking on the doorframe to get Carlos’s attention. He looked up from his desk and the smile that spread across his face at the sight of TK nearly had him holding onto the doorframe for support.

“Hey,” he said in what he prayed was a normal voice, “I was just here for those files, if you still wanted to give them to me?”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind and you can’t have them.”

“Oh,” TK said, “I’ll just go then, sorry for—”

“TK, I’m kidding,” Carlos assured him as he stood up from his desk. “I offered them, didn’t I? Besides, we’re working on college essays and applications; there won’t be any time for Poe this year.”

“That’s a shame,” TK noted as he took a few tentative steps inside the room, “but I’m sure they’ll appreciate it when they have their applications done.”

“That’s the hope,” Carlos agreed, “but right now they’re not too fond of me.”

TK chuckled and Carlos looked up from the bookshelf he was scanning to see TK still standing a few feet from the door. “I don’t bite,” he deadpanned, “you can come in.”

TK laughed nervously and crossed the room, coming to a halt several feet away from Carlos. The other man continued scanning the shelf and upon finding what he was looking for made a triumphant noise before turning to face TK, holding out a binder. TK raised an eyebrow and took it, glancing over at the shelves that were filled with neat rows of binders all clearly labeled.

“You are aggressively organized,” he noted.

Carlos chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah. I know it looks like a lot, but after switching grade levels a few times it’s the only way I can keep anything straight anymore.”

TK nodded as he slipped through the binder, “That’s fair. I used to have a lot of binders like that too, but I thankfully digitized them before I moved down here. I can’t imagine transporting all those across the country would have been fun.”

“No, I can’t imagine it would be. Guess it’s a good thing I have no intention of leaving.”

TK looked up from the binder to see Carlos studying him. He smiled at the other man, who returned it before settling onto the desk across from TK.

“I didn’t realize you were new to the area.”

TK nodded, “Just moved here from NYC about 2 weeks before school started.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, “that’s ambitious.”

TK sighed and nodded. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but everything happened so fast. Thankfully everything has worked out pretty well so this may not be the horrific disaster I thought it would be.”

“That’s optimism for you,” Carlos observed dryly. “What brought you down here, if you don’t mind me asking.”

TK’s hand froze in its journey down the page he was reviewing as his other hand clenched the binder tightly.

“Just looking for a fresh start,” he said evenly, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the page before him and praying that Carlos could not hear the racing of his heart.

If Carlos noticed anything odd, he didn’t let on.

“That’s a big change. Did you come down here alone?”

“Just me, myself, and my boxes.”

“So why Austin then? I could be wrong, but it seems like a pretty big change from NYC.”

“I wanted to leave the city and try something new. I saw this opening here, researched the school, and decided it was worth a shot. What about you though,” he asked, switching gears and looking up from the binder, “Austin born and raised?”

“Yep, go Longhorns,” he said with forced enthusiasm. TK raised a skeptical eyebrow and Carlos pushed on, “never mind. So,” he continued, and TK noticed a change in his tone that had him looking up again, “leave anyone behind in New York?”

There was silence for a moment as their eyes met and they both knew what was really being asked.

“Just my dad.”

“Yeah, I only have my family too. But there’s a lot of them so that’s more than enough.”

TK smiled in spite of himself. “My mom’s in New York too, but she’s always traveling for work so really it’s always been just me and my dad. Honestly, leaving him there was the hardest thing about this move, and the only thing I regret.”

He paused in the wake of his words, surprised by how much he just shared with this near stranger but before he could dwell on it Carlos was giving him a reassuring smile that set his nerves at ease.

“Sounds like you’re close.”

“We are,” TK confirmed, voice growing softer as he thought about his dad. “He’s still my hero, always has been. He’s a firefighter, and I thought I wanted to be one when I was young too. But as I got older, I saw the toll it took on him and decided to take a different path. I still love and admire him for doing it though. I couldn’t picture him doing anything else.”

There was quiet in the room again. TK started to panic, thinking that maybe he shared too much (he still can’t believe he said any of that), but something about Carlos makes him feel so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until the words were already out there. He’s about to apologize when Carlos speaks.

“I get that. My dad was a cop and it was the same way when I was growing up. He was larger than life and my hero; I wanted to be just like him. But then I got older and decided I didn’t like the reality of law enforcement as much as I had the concept. I decided I could do more good from inside a classroom and well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” TK agreed, “who would have thought?”

Carlos laughed appreciatively and the sound washed over TK with all the warmth of sunlight. He smiled back at him before turning his gaze back to the binder. The conversation flows easily between them and before TK knew it he caught a glance at his watch and let out a curse when he realized how late it had gotten. Carlos gave him a questioning look and TK gestured up at the clock, “We should have left ages ago. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up; I’m sure you have things to do.”

“It’s fine, this was nice. Maybe if you stop by more often, we can chat in smaller increments. Otherwise I’m afraid this is just going to keep happening—I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go quickly if I don’t think there is a chance of it happening again within the next year.”

TK rolled his eyes, “Well excuse me for being busy settling into a new school.”

Which was a reasonable excuse. There is no way anyone would suspect he had been avoiding the other man (even though he absolutely had been).

Still, this had been nice.

He fingered the strap of his bag as he picked it up, “maybe we can continue this during lunch tomorrow? I’d like to actually ask you some questions about the materials, which is what I came here to do before we got sidetracked.”

Part of TK was praying he would say no.

Instead, he grinned, “sure, I’d like that. Until tomorrow then, Mr. Strand.”

“See you then, Reyes.”

And with a wave, he was gone.

His heart was still racing as he climbed into his car. He leaned against the seat and sighed. Operation avoid Carlos Reyes had officially crashed and burned. This was a terrible idea; he should find a reason to cancel tomorrow and go back to avoiding him as much as possible. This was a risk he didn’t need to be taking.

But even as he sat here, he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling of the aftermath of a pleasant conversation. His mind was shouting at him that this was a terrible idea, but he was having a harder time believing it with every passing second. His rules said no dating, but there was no reason they couldn’t be friends, right?

[Continue Reading on ao3]

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #sunshinestrand #lonestarbabe #lire-casander #bellakitse #sneetchestoo #reyesstrand #moviegeek03 #captainstennerstar #tarlosbuddie

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Minions (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)

Ser Barristan Selmy stood silently with one hand on the pommel of his sword as Prince Edward paced in front of the small group of men. It might have seemed odd for a boy his age to already be gathering his own followers, but Prince Edward was something of a prodigy in everything he attempted. Given who his grandfather was, the old knight wasn’t altogether surprised that he was turning his attention to more... underhanded things.

Honour, Barristan had learned, was important, but honour alone could not keep a kingdom running. A great ruler knew when to follow the rules and when to... bend them a little. His task was to ensure that no matter what happened, the prince would be safe.

“You have been called here today,” Edward began. “Because you are all men with... certain talents, talents that I might find useful. You are also men whose services can be bought, and most importantly of all, you stay bought. I have need of such men, men who can be counted on to do what needs doing and who will remain loyal knowing full well that a prince and future king can offer more than mere coin. He can offer influence. He can offer resources. He can offer a path to a life beyond that of a sell sword or a mercenary.”

The men remained silent, taking the prince’s measure. Barristan was certain they would not find him wanting.

The leader of the group spoke. “Aye, we are such men. But what do you want us to do and what can you give us for doing it?”

Barristan’s first instinct was to bristle at the disrespect, but the prince merely chuckled and continued.

“Good. I was hoping you’d ask. Fools and simpletons have their place, of course, but what I want you to do for me requires men of cunning and intellect.” The prince unrolled a bolt of silk. “Do you know what this is?”

The three other men shook their heads, but the leader answered. “It’s silk.” He paused. “I’ve seen it once or twice when I’ve worked for other lords. Pricey stuff, Your Highness, worth it’s weight in gold and then some, or so I hear.”

“Indeed. It is silk, and it is worth a great deal of coin. Why? Because nobody knows how to make it, save for the sorcerers of Yi Ti.” The prince’s lips curled. “At least, that’s what they’d like for us to believe.”

The leader of the men smirked. “So I’m guessing you’ve worked out how they do it then.”

“Yes, I have. However, knowing how they do it and actually doing it myself are different things. What I need you gentlemen to do is to get a few things for me - things that will allow me to make my own silk.” The prince’s lips twitched. “As you can imagine, there is going to be a great deal of risk involved: death, mayhem, treachery, all that sort of thing.”

“A great deal of risk means a great deal of coin.”

“It does... and should you succeed, you will receive a great deal of coin. But if you succeed, then it means my estimations of you are correct, and I’d rather not have men of your calibre wandering around, working for the highest bidder. I’d want such men working for me alone, as my men.”

“Long term?”

“For life if possible,” the prince replied.

“For life, huh?” The leader glanced back at his fellows, and they exchanged nods. “That’ll take more than coin.”

“I imagine it would.” The prince grinned. “So, tell me... what are your dreams? What can this prince of the seven kingdoms grant you that will secure your loyalty for life?”

One of the other men stepped forward. He was a lean fellow, but Ser Barristan’s experienced eyes saw the knives concealed in his clothing and the calluses on his hands. This was a man who had spent his entire life honing the skills of an assassin and cutthroat. “I have something I’d like, Your Highness.”

“And what would that be?”

“They call me Deron,” the lean man said. “And I’ve been doing this sort of work for some time. I never grew up with nothing, but I figured if I could earn a decent living, perhaps my siblings would grow up better.”

“I’ve heard worse reasons to go into your line of work.”

“Last year, I went back home.” Deron’s gaze darkened. “I’d been sending money back, you see. I found out my parents had wasted it all. They owed some bastard a lot of money, and they...” He took a deep breath. “They sold one of my sisters to pay it off. They would have sold some of my other siblings too, I figure, but my sister was also a beauty, and she’d just flowered...”

“I trust your siblings are no longer with your parents,” the prince said quietly.

“No. I got them someplace else.” He bit his lip. “King’s Landing might not be the best place in the world, but it’s better than being sold off.” He clenched his fists. “It’s not coin that will buy my loyalty, Your Highness. I’ve heard of you. We all have. They say the gods have blessed you, made you more clever than any man the Seven Kingdom’s have ever seen, but you’re more than clever. You’re talking to us, which means you’re cunning too. I bet you’ve got eyes and ears in all sorts of place, even in Essos.”

“I can either confirm nor deny that.”

Deron chuckled grimly. “I want you to use those eyes and ears to find my sister for me.”

“How long has it been exactly?” the prince asked. Ser Barristan could well understand the need to ask. Slaves... slaves did not last long in Essos. And a young, beautiful girl? There was no telling what might have been done to her or if she was even still alive.

“It’s been six months since I found out, maybe six and a half since they sold her.”

“I see.” The prince nodded crisply. “Tell me everything you know. I cannot promise that I will find her, but you have my word as a proud son of the House of Baratheon that I will do everything I can to find her for you.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Deron said, bowing. “But I promise you, Your Highness, that if you find her for me or at least find out what happened to her so I can stick a knife in whoever was responsible, then I’m your man. The Drowned God could try to drag me down into the depths, and I swear I’d fight him off to keep on serving you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The prince nodded at the two other men besides the leader, the pair who were very obviously twins. “And you two?”

“Gold for starters,” the one on the right said. “Me brother and I survived by ourselves for years before running into these two. But we’re tired of going from place to place, always looking for another job, always wondering if this is the job where the man hiring us decides he doesn’t want to pay and decides to stick a knife between our ribs instead of giving us the coin we’re owed. We don’t want none of that anymore.” He knelt, as did his brother. “They call me Jerod and my brother here is Markel. Take us into your House, Your Highness, make us men of House Baratheon with all that means, and we’ll serve you till our dying day.”

“If you succeed, then you will have more than earned that right.” The prince turned to their leader. “And what would you ask of me, Bronn?” The prince’s lips twitched. “After all, you are the leader of this little group and one of the most reliable and well-known mercenaries in this little corner of the world.”

“Like the brothers, I’m sick of wandering. I want a place to call my own and the guarantee of a roof over my head.” Bronn took a deep breath. “ And I want a knighthood.”

Ser Barristan’s fists clenched. To demand a knighthood? The audacity... yet he had also seen men rewarded with knighthoods for less than what the prince was asking of these men.

“You succeed, Bronn, and it’ll be Ser Bronn.” The prince hummed thoughtfully. “And unlike the others here, I can tell you have greater ambitions.” Bronn nodded. “Should you become a knight in my service, Bronn, know that there will be opportunity to rise further. Why, who’s to say that you might not one day find yourself called Lord Bronn.”

Bronn’s eyes widened, and Barristan knew that the prince had him. “You would...?”

“Not for this alone, Bronn, understand that. But all lords were once mere warriors. It was by their strength and cunning that they rose. I believe that men should be given a chance to rise beyond the circumstances of their birth should they prove themselves worthy of greater things.”

“Lord Bronn?” Bronn chuckled. “I like the sound of that.” His lips curled. “What would you have us do, Your Highness? Whatever it is, we’ll get it done.”

X X X

A few months later...

The four men stood before the prince again, and Ser Barristan once more stood guard. They were all carrying a few extra scars, and it was clear that they were still healing from a litany of other injuries, but they had succeeded. In all honesty, Ser Barristan could still scarcely believe it himself.

Insects? Mere insects were the source of silk? Yet the evidence was clear, and the prince had already sworn everyone involve to secrecy while seeing to it that some of his most trusted and most learned servants tended to the creatures. Gods willing, it would all work, and the crown would soon be able to produce their own silk in significant quantities.

“You know,” the prince drawled. “I expected you to succeed, but I didn’t think you’d succeed in quite the manner that you did.” He laughed. “Half the docks at Pentos burned down. Entire districts left in chaos, to say nothing of the riots and other disorder that I’m sure you caused.” The four squirmed beneath his gaze. The prince, after all, had asked them to be as discrete as possible. “Yet... not a single one of those things could be traced to you. The four of you covered your tracks quite well, it seems. And the quest I gave you?” The prince smiled broadly. “You succeeded beyond all my expectations. I had hoped to secure a single box of silk worms. You lot came back with seven.”

“If I may, Your Highness,” Bronn said. “It seemed a good idea at the time. Given the ruckus we’d caused just to get our hands on one, we figured we might as well take the rest.”

The prince’s eyes gleamed. “This is why I chose you and your group, Bronn. The Yi Ti ship was only going to be there for a week, and it took me a stupidly huge quantity of coin to learn both its schedule and the fact that it would be carrying silk worms. I knew it would be heavily guarded, and I knew it would take extraordinary measures to steal some. You four created a chance, and you took full advantage of it. The results speak for themselves.”

The prince nodded, and four chests were brought forward by his servants. “This is the gold you were promised... doubled because of how well you accomplished your mission.” He grinned. “As for your other requests...” He started with Deron. “My agents have been looking for your sister. Based on the information you gave me, we’ve narrowed it down to five possibilities. The moment I know more, you will know, but I’ve given them instructions to obtain her, using whatever means they deem necessary should they located her. I’ve also taken the liberty of finding a new house for you and your siblings. The current one is not nearly good enough for a man in my employ.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Deron fell to his knees. “I’m your man from this day forward.”

“As for you, Jerod and Markel... allow me to welcome you to House Baratheon. From this day forth, you are my sworn swords, and you will be a member of my household. You will be lodged in the Red Keep as trusted members of my House, so I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly.”

They too fell to their knees. “You have our thanks, Your Highness, and our loyalty unto death.”

“And now we get to you, Bronn...” The prince’s lips curled into a smile. “Or should I say Ser Bronn?”

“Ser Bronn does have a nice ring to it.”

“I’ve spoken to my father. He’ll knight you himself. But don’t get too comfortable - and this goes for the three of you also - because I’ve got more work for you to do.” The prince chuckled. “At this rate, however, I doubt it will be long before you find yourself as Lord Bronn.”

“Lord Bronn has an even better ring to it.” Bronn fell to his knees. “Your Highness. Whatever you need done, I’ll get it done.”

“Excellent,” the prince said. “Now, rise, all of you. Keep in mind that while you will be serving me, I will also be asking you to perform tasks for some of my... associates. Chief amongst them is my uncle, Tyrion Lannister.”

X X X

Tyrion looked at the four men who had walked into his office. To his keen eye, they were all dangerous men, none more than the newly knighted Ser Bronn. His nephew had told him of what these men had achieved and how they had done it. To take them lightly would be foolish in the extreme.

He gestured at the table with bread, salt, and wine. “Have a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to talk about.” He chuckled. “As I'm sure you’re aware, my nephew and I have enjoyed a rather incredible rise in the merchanting world. However, there are those who would like to see that rise halted. Today, I’ll be telling you who they are and what we will be doing about them.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Edward (Diana) knows that there are few things more important than an elite cadre of minions who are both loyal and skilled. Moreover, taking these men into his service deprives his enemies of them as well. This is especially important because men like Bronn are worth their weight in gold: deadly, cunning, and maniacally determined. It won’t be long before Bronn does indeed find himself the owner a nice, cosy castle in the Crown Lands.

That said, their little escapade in Essos is going to give people conniptions, especially the ones who were planning on doing the exact same thing they were. Indeed, a certain Sealord’s daughter had agents who were planning to make a move the very next night only for Bronn to steal a march on them and come away with the prize.

And speaking of Bronn, in this timeline, he has three associates he often works with. They’ve formed their own little group, largely as a survival measure due to how often treachery seems to plague their line of work. Here, they’re turning official although Edward will, of course, be hiding what it is they actually do for him. As far as anyone can tell, they are simply men who’ve been hired by the prince to handle things around the city after putting in a good showing after he met them along the road and encountered bandits.

Next on Edward’s agenda... talking with a certain Viper and securing the services of a certain Hound.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #game of thrones #diana yun farron #barristan selmy #bronn #tyrion lannister

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post-itpenny · 3 years

Note

Magnetic

Decided to do some slasher writing. Continuing on with Chloe’s introduction and her first ever round of The Ringmaster’s carnival games. Poem excerpts from Christina Rossetti’s The Goblin Market.

Goblin Games

“Morning and evening

Maids heard the goblins cry:

“Come buy our orchard fruits,

Come buy, come buy.”

A foolish, young couple wandered in like flies to fresh cut melon, swatted at just as quick too.

Pulled from each other’s fingertips tossed in cages. The Ringmaster was almost disappointed how short this round of the game was, but at least the tigers would be well fed tonight.

The rest that would follow were just as quickly disposed of, blindly lured in by some unknown temptation. They were all given the rules, though most didn’t listen. The Ringmaster valued a fair game though, so the rules were given the same.

The screams that filled the air after- delicious.

But here now was the last one, The Ringmaster mused her to be much like the injured child who could not keep up with the others so blindly following the pied piper.

But this one was aware of the danger, she was afraid. It was a curious thing when she entered anyway.

She stepped past the ticket booth, the Ringmaster gently ushering her inside.

“We must not look at goblin men,

We must not buy their fruits:

Who knows upon what soil they fed

Their hungry thirsty roots?”

There was a snap, the midway lighting up. “Welcome! Welcome my dear! How glorious you could join us here at the greatest show on Earth!”

A scream cut through the air, the girl flinched, but did not run.

How curious indeed.

“I do believe you’re the last guest of the evening. Allow me to introduce myself as Mr. Blair P. Gheist. May I say I am utterly delighted to have you joining us.” The Ringmaster greeted as he took the girl’s hand with a light peck to her knuckles.

“C-Chloe.”

He arched an eyebrow, most didn’t introduce themselves. “It’s wonderful of you to pay my humble circus a visit Miss Chloe. Tell me, what is it you most wish to experience tonight Hmm? The acrobatics? Perhaps our fine collection of some of the most exotic animals here on Earth?”

The girl pulled her hand away, her breathing rapid as she looked off in the distance towards the screams.

The Ringmaster watched her intently, gently hooking his finger under her chin and turning her head to face him.

“Perhaps a game?”

The girl- Chloe- slowly nodded. Stepping just out of his reach. The Ringmaster did not pursue, merely leaning on his cane with a devilish grin. “Do you enjoy games then? Normally I place the rule that winners are allowed to leave. But perhaps we could switch things up? If you win I will let them go, all of them.”

“Alive.”

Blair blinked, then smiled again. “But of course. Now my dear, allow me to explain the rules.”

She listened, she actually listened to everything that was explained. She asked questions to clarify, timidly of course but she still asked. She was without a doubt most deserving of a favorite game here at the circus-

Hide and Seek.

“Remember now,” The Ringmaster prompted, “all you have to do is not get caught for thirty minutes.” He glanced at her leg, “of course you get a head start-“

“I don’t need it, I’m fast enough.”

“I would hope you are Miss Chloe,” he responded, “you’re going to need it.” But I do need a chance to count so-“

He grinned, a hand curling over his eyes as he began to count out loud.

She took off running, navigating stalls and tents as The Ringmaster’s voice rang across the circus grounds. Chloe turned a corner. Around her now shadows loomed from the booths and stalls. Clowns with homicidal grins, acrobatics whose joints didn’t look quite right. She nearly crashed into a stagehand who took a casual swing at her with a sledgehammer.

Chloe backpedaled and ran another direction. Ducking into a tent.

She climbed around storage boxes and into a small nook away from the tent sides.

It had grown quiet.

Chloe forced her breathing to steady. Listening intently to the sound of approaching footsteps. They stopped outside the tent, only a moment before moving on.

She breathed a sigh of relief-

There was a loud “bang!” As Chloe was surrounded by an explosion of light.

She shrieked and covered her head, hearing an insane laugh as she pulled herself together and ran out of the tent.

Down the isles for the Midway Chloe ran. Never far behind her was The Ringmaster who always seemed to know what she would go.

She was interesting to watch run, despite the given limp from her prosthetic leg the girl was athletic. Blair casually jogging behind, normally he would just walk but this one didn’t just run blindly. She truly was doing everything in her power to win.

She skidded around a corner and misjudged her speed. Stumbling into a booth with a terrible crash.

The Ringmaster giggled, reaching out with a hand. “Terrific job so far my dear, but you could stand to practice the landing.”

Chloe panicked, backing into the debre, trapped as he grinned down at her. “You’ve done very well, there’s no need to panic my dear Chloe.”

“Stay away!”

“Shh, hush now. The game is almost over, and you have been splendid. Take a deep breath my dear, rest a moment.”

Without thinking Chloe did as she was told. Breath slowing down but still watching a The Ringmaster inched closer. “Most don’t make it this far, it’s admirable really.”

She gripped the strap of her guitar, calming down but still weary.

Blair offered an encouraging smile and inched closer. “Let me help you up, no strings attached.”

“The rules were Mr. Gheist, if you tag me game over. That counts right?”

Oh.

Oh this one was-

Blair grinned. “You paid attention!”

“So it’s an out yes?”

“An exception just this once, trust me. The game is almost over anyways”

She was tired, he could tell. But she couldn’t tell there was still twenty minutes on the clock.

He held out his and again, delighted as she raised her own, fingertips just inches away. She was tired and oblivious. Perhaps he cou-“

WHAM!

If all the things that The Ringmaster had experienced in his carnival games over the years, being hit in the face with a guitar had never been one of them. She stumbled back as he stuttered between curses of pain and a sick laughter. She ran away as fast as she could.

It was delightful.

“One may lead a horse to water,

Twenty cannot make him drink.”

A fighter- a clever and resourceful thing, a fighter. He needed something like that, and if she wasn’t too broken by the end then perhaps he would add her to the troup.

Tossing his top hat aside, he ran after her.

The spectators were whipped into a frenzy. No longer silent watchers, they screamed and laughed. Shoving Chloe if she got too close. Applauding when their boss sprinted by. Her movement was a strange loping one, her speed hindered by the leg. But she did not stop running no matter how much it hurt.

Chloe turned a corner, not realizing her mistake as she entered a building.

The Funhouse.

The entry room was dark, a relief from the bright lights of the Midway, a place to actually hide.

The lights flashed on, she blinked away the spots from her eyes at the sudden light. Screaming at the sight of a corpse flayed and pinned to the wall.

She turned around, The Ringmaster grinning wickedly at her with his hand on the switch, around them whirled to life the sounds of gears turning and music picking up.

He waited, she still had fourteen minutes on the clock. Would she try to dodge around him, or go in?

Would she simply fall to the floor and beg like some of her friends did earlier?

Chloe turned, diving through the small door underneath the Corpse.

Stumbling through dimly lit and tilting hallways, trying doors that led to nowhere. The music was loud and lights would flash. Walls damp with blood as she entered one room that could only be described as an explosion of gore. The smell hit her and she had to stop and vomit twice.

Chloe kept going.

He followed her, shimmying through tight hallways and climbing over obstacles. He pulled something from his pocket, tossing it over her head and down the hall. Covering his own eyes before it hit the ground.

She screeched at the small explosion. Blinded by the sudden light and running without any idea where she was going.

SMACK

She screamed again at the feeling of The Ringmaster’s cane slamming into her back, to her credit she did not falter however. She kept running.

She regained her eyesight to find herself surrounded by herself. A hall of mirrors that twisted and distorted the world. Everywhere she turned was a dead end. Slamming into mirrors as trying desperately to get through. It was so loud here, and their air had changed; now sweet smelling but heavy. Lights an array of colors. She struggled to think, she struggled to breathe.

He found her there, collapsed and hyperventilating.

Blair eyed her before pulling out his pocket watch.

Five minutes.

He sighed, readying his cane much like a club.

Chloe glanced over her shoulder, crawling away best she could. Her prosthetic refusing to cooperate.

He chuckled and hooked the fake leg. Pulling her back towards him.

Four minutes.

“Color me surprised Miss Chloe but most don’t last this long. I would tip my hat to you but I left it quite a ways back.”

Using his cane he flipped her over by the leg. She looked up at him, eyes wide and lungs struggling for air.

“G-g-game?”

Blair grinned, “not over yet I’m afraid. But you’ve been such a sport, I’ll allow your little friends to live if you give up.”

“B-b-b-” she paused and took a massive gulp of air, she was sobbing now.

“But you? Well you lose, you don’t leave.”

Three minutes.

“It’s time to close out the show dear, don’t you think?”

She was in hysterics, her body exhausted and her mind losing to the assault brought on by the hall of mirrors. Chloe flipped herself over and dragged herself across the floor.

Two minutes

The Ringmaster cackled as he hooked her leg again with his cane and dragged her back. He winced, the room was getting louder, it wasn’t supposed to do that.

She kicked out at him, trying to scramble to her feet, hands clamped over her ears and eyes screwed shut.

One Minute.

It would dawn on him later that the volume was due to the loud whispers that had joined the cacophony of music and random sound he had intended for room to hold. But at this moment even the Ringmaster struggled as his ears were assaulted.

Later on her would argue that he had been cheated.

Underneath the racket came the soft chime of The Ringmaster’s pocket watch.

The sounds stopped.

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greekgrad12 · 4 years

Text

It Takes Two: percabeth!au

chapter two :)

Mattie Jackson and Hayley Chase meet at the start of summer and discover that they are each other's identical clone. With a little more investigating, the two girls discover that they are, in fact, twins. Things only get crazier when they find out that their adoptive parents were once in love. Now, they have to work together to reunite Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase before Mattie’s dad ends up dating the new camp counselor and Hayley’s mom gets married to a kid hating, gold digger.

And what better way to do that than to switch places?

i rewatched It Takes Two and decided to make it percabeth :)

read on ao3

chapter one here!

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

The faded white stone was the first thing Annabeth Chase noticed when she and her daughter pulled into the driveway of their summer house. Well, summer house was a loose term now. Annabeth had been living here all year while working on a new project. One that was very near and dear to her heart. When Chiron called and asked if she would be willing to redesign the old camp, she was more than happy to. She even threw in a family discount, because that's exactly what he was. Family.

Annabeth Chase was a very famous name in the architecture world. She graduated top of her class at Berkeley and quickly got a job at Medusa & Co. Architecture. Her coworkers were somber, but the work was good. Working for a big company like Medusa & Co. brought on a lot of challenges, but that's what drew her in. Annabeth loved a challenge. What she didn't love were the rumors and scandals constantly going around about faulty cement, old metals, and rickety wires being used to create their buildings in an attempt to make more money. When she decided to investigate and learned that the rumors were true, Annabeth just had to leave. Creating her own Architecture Company took some time, but the exposure and resources she acquired while at Medusa & Co. helped her along the way. And the money she got from her tip to the media about what was really going on at her old job didn't hurt either.

Now, she was the proud owner and head architect at Parthenon Architecture. Having expanded her company to five different states all over America, Annabeth was a busy woman. So busy that she never really had time to think about her life outside of work. She knew she wanted to get married and have a family. Something permanent. But even with the casual dates, her friends insisted she go on, Annabeth never felt that spark that she knew made something worth pursuing. She knew what that felt like. She'd experienced it before, with-

"Woah," The sweet voice of her daughter broke Annabeth from her thoughts, "Remind me why we don't stay here more often?"

Annabeth didn't have time for romance, but she wanted a family. Thanks to adoption agencies, she could have that. But honestly, Annabeth wasn't even sure if she was ready to be a mother when she went in for a consultation with the agency. Her parents divorced when she was young, and due to her mother's career in government at D.C., Annabeth was left with her father. Eventually, her stepmother came into the picture and the blonde little girl was pushed into the background. The woman wanted absolutely nothing to do with Annabeth and her father did nothing to help. Things only got worse when her little twin brothers came into the picture.

Annabeth's mother would come back every other month and the two would spend the day together, but she couldn't be there every time the girl needed her. The best thing her mother did for her was sign Annabeth up for Camp Half-Blood when she was a seven. That first year at camp changed her life. She made friends who became family and finally found a place that felt like home. People who felt like home. A boy who felt like home.

"Remind me how often we come to Rhode Island?" she teased the ten-year-old.

The girl turned back to her mother and responded with a straight face, "Ha-ha."

Annabeth laughed at that, "Come on, Hayley, let's unpack. I wanna show you something in the house."

Despite her estranged relationship with motherhood, Annabeth never had to think twice about adopting Hayley. Before adopting the girl, she did her research. Apparently, Hayley's birth mother moved to California a week after she was born, hoping for a fresh start with her new child. Unfortunately, her new life didn't have room for a baby. The woman tried for about two months before abandoning the little girl at an adoption agency. Annabeth knew what it was like to feel abandoned, so she was happy to claim the two month old as her own.

She tried her best to be an attentive and caring mother, and being her own boss helped make that possible. Still, with Annabeth being so busy with the camp reconstruction plans, she and her daughter hadn't been able to spend as much time together this year. Hayley had spent the greater part of last year begging her mom to let her join them in Rhode Island, and as much as Annabeth wanted her around, she wasn't about to pull her daughter out of school for a whole year. Especially with everything they've gone through at past schools.

Much like Annabeth, Hayley Chase is a famous name. Hayley wasn't a problem child. She is a good kid. A good kid with bad luck. Getting her daughter into schools was the easy part. As the granddaughter to a Congresswoman, an American and Military History professor at West Point, and the daughter of the third most famous Architect in the United States, schools were eager to have Hayley in their programs. And having an eleventh-grade reading level didn't hurt either. It was when the school year began that things usually went south.

Wrong place, wrong time basically sums up Hayley's life. Nothing too crazy happened, but it was usually enough to ensure that the girl wouldn't be getting an invitation back. So far, she had been kicked out of three schools. Once for getting too many detentions due to 'continuous disrespect,' which is just a fancy way of saying, "You're child pointed out too many of my teaching mistakes and I'm sick of being contradicted."

Another time was when a nasty girl in her class tripped Hayley in the lunchroom. The girl's tray went flying, and the food fight that ensued was blamed on her. The last incident was the result of a classroom fire, but there's really no time to unpack that. Hayley never meant for these things to happen. She knew how hard her mother worked, and she admired her greatly for that. The last thing she wants is to add stress to her life.

What Hayley didn't realize, however, was that she made Annabeth's life anything but stressful. The woman couldn't be prouder to have a daughter as clever, kind, and patient as Hayley. Annabeth spent her whole life wanting to build something permanent, but when she finally did, she looked around and realized that it's wasn't worth much without someone permanent beside her. She wants to do right by her daughter, and that's one of the reasons why she was so excited to finally have Hayley over at the summer house with her. Not only would she get to spend time with her daughter again, but Annabeth would get to show Hayley where she grew up. Her home.

Camp Half-Blood.

Hayley was now carrying a backpack over her shoulders and tugging a suitcase behind her as she walked up the steps to the giant house, "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," The woman answered, simply. Annabeth had just dropped her bag onto the porch and was currently scrummaging in her bag for the door keys.

"What kind of surprise?" Hayley pressed while admiring the exterior of the house. The two story mansion had once belonged to her great-grandmother, but it hadn't been used in years. The green-eyed girl suddenly found herself hoping that the surprise wasn't spiderwebs and dust. Then again, her mother had been living here on and off again for the past six months. If there was even a hint of spiders, the house would have already been hosed down by exterminators, "Surprise like, 'I'm doubling your allowance for not causing trouble this year!' or surprise like, 'Grandma's coming to visit'?"

Annabeth had unlocked the door but held it ajar, "Actually, yes, your grandma is coming in a few days to visit."

A grim look overtook Hayley's face. It's not that she didn't like Grandma Athena, it's just that she was very... controlled. Hayley always assumed that it was the Congresswoman in her that made the old lady so uptight. Every time she came to visit, her mom would get anxious and start to stress work. The little girl knew all about her mother's upbringing. The mother-daughter pair were very close, and Hayley was protective of the people she loved, so she never enjoyed seeing the effect her grandmother had on Annabeth.

"Why is she coming here?" The young girl asked, trying her best to hide her disapproving tone, "The only thing she does when she comes over is stress you out and give me passive-aggressive looks for not indulging myself in nonfiction books."

"Hayley, if you want to read Agatha Christie, read Agatha Christie. If you want to read Marvel Comics, read Marvel Comics. Don't let her make you feel bad about your interests," If there was one thing Annabeth was willing to face her mother for, it was her daughter. It pissed the woman off to no end when her mother, the one who had basically abandoned her as a child, tried to tell Annabeth how to raise her daughter.

That's another thing Hayley loved about her mom. No matter what she did, her mom was right behind her with unconditional support. When Hayley entered the Spelling Bee, her mother stayed up the night before and helped her practice, even though she had scheduled an early meeting the next morning to ensure she would be off on time to attend the contest. When the girl wanted to join an art class, Annabeth went out and bought her a whole new art supply kit. When, at the age of four, she decided that blue and yellow were magic colors, and her mom decided to make blue cookies for her. She only made them once, and Hayley was young when she did, but the girl still could have sworn she remembers her mother tearing up when her daughter took her first bite of the blue food.

And there was the time when she was three, and Hayley had her first asthma attack.

Annabeth had been a wreck for the entire process. Of course, Hayley had recovered quickly, and thanks to her Flovent medication, she hasn't had a major attack in years. All thanks to her mom. If Annabeth Chase was anything, it was a planner. Hayley was on a strict schedule when it came to taking her medication. Even though her daughter's asthma hadn't acted up in years, she wasn't going to chance losing her ever again.

"Rebel against Grandma?" Hayley joked, "Sounds like a plan."

Annabeth huffed out a laugh, but Hayley could tell something was off. She just now noticed that her mother hadn't been looking her in the eyes and that she was still standing in front of the cracked open door, blocking the girl from what's inside. She also noticed that her mother didn't answer her question about why Grandma Athena would be visiting.

"Why don't we go inside? I may have lied about the surprise- or rather, the extent of it. There is actually more than one."

Hayley's confusion must have been very noticeable, because right as she was about to ask more questions, Annabeth opened the front door to reveal two people waiting inside.

"Piper! Leo!" Hayley dropped her bags onto the porch and ran to her godmother and honorary uncle. The two dropped down and hugged the little girl with just as tightly as she did them.

"Hey, Hay!" Leo teased the girl as her arm wrapped around his neck.

"Oh my goodness, there is no way you got this big over one school year!" Piper exclaimed as she pulled back from the girl's other side, "You get any taller and you're gonna outgrow Leo."

While that was definitely an exaggeration, Leo still scoffed at the girl. Watching as the three got reacquainted, Annabeth picked up her daughter's bags that were abandoned on the porch and laid them inside. After she placed her own bags on the floor, Piper's dark eyes shot up and reached Annabeth's gray ones.

The woman smiled down at Hayley before walking over to give her mom a big hug. Piper McLean and Annabeth had been friends for years. The two met in the third grade. They bonded over daddy issues and a mutual love for Skittles. You know, normal kid stuff. After decades of sleepovers, secret handshakes, bad haircuts, and One Direction phases, the girls were still inseparable. If anyone could read Annabeth like a book, it was Piper. They were a fantastic duo. So much so, that Piper was her personal assistant. Technically, she was here for work, but Annabeth was just grateful to have her best friend here for the occasion.

Annabeth met Leo Valdez in college. He was the smartest person on the robotics team and the two shared many classes together throughout the years. They became fast friends, bonding over conspiracy theories and arguing over who was the better Property Brother. When Annabeth needed a Head of Construction at her firm, she knew exactly who she wanted by her side. Leo was more than happy to accept.

Leo and Piper were great employees and even better friends. They were supportive when she told them she wanted to adopt. They were always there to remind her that it's okay to take a break. And whenever one of them decided to take her out and let her live a little, the other would watch Hayley. And they both loved Hayley.

"Glad to see you're still alive," Piper's tone was flat and quiet against Annabeth's ear. She knew her friend didn't want Hayley hearing what she had to say, and honestly, neither did Piper, "Oh, and look at that. Is that a phone sticking out of your back pocket? A phone that I have been trying to reach you on for the past hour?"

Annabeth pulled back from the hug and Piper could finally see the guilt written on her face, "I know. Look, I'm sorry I didn't answer, but I knew what you would be calling about. I couldn't exactly have you yelling at me with my ten-year-old in the passenger seat."

"So, she doesn't know then?" The black-haired woman knew the answer, but the way she was now staring Annabeth down -arms crossed, eyebrow raised- made her realize the real question she was asking went along the lines of, what the hell is your plan here?

"No," Annabeth sighed out, "I was going to tell her on the drive over from the airport, but there was just so much to catch up on-"

"Yeah, Annabeth!" Piper whisper-yelled as an exasperated look took over her face, "There is so much to catch her up on. Starting with-!"

"Hey, you two," Leo coughed out, loudly. As the girls turned their attention back to him and the little girl, they saw Leo motioning to Hayley. Annabeth's daughter sent confused glances to the three adults, "Annabeth, why don't you show Hayls what's outback?"

Annabeth clasped her hands together and moved past Piper, who was now giving Leo the death stare, "That's a great idea, Leo. Come on, Hayley, there's another surprise waiting for you."

Hayley loved a good surprise as much as the next girl, but she was very aware of the mumbled bickering going on between Piper and Leo as she and her mom walked to the back of the house. That kind of put a damper on things. There was definitely something being kept from the little girl, and she had an idea that whatever it was wouldn't be found outback.

"Come on, kiddo," Annabeth said as they reached a little study. Hayley almost missed the door as they walked up to it. The wood of the door matched the wall around it, and a few strayed out plant decorations hid it even more. It was like the room was intentionally being hidden away. Once her mother opened the door, Hayley could see why. It appeared to be a private study- a homey, little room. There was a desk that sat in the middle, surrounded by comfortable looking chairs and giant bookshelves. To the side, there was a giant bay window that let the sun in and overlooked the coastline. A telescope stood off to the right of the window and a globe of the world to the left.

"Wow," The girl breathed out. Hayley stepped into the room and heard her mother chuckle from behind her.

"Just wait," Annabeth took her daughter's hand and lead her to the giant bay window. Annabeth sat down on the cushion while placing the little girl in her lap. She pointed out towards past the water and to an open area that was covered by what looked like to be a camp.

"Is that the camp you've been working on up here?" Hayley asked, eyes still set towards the campground, "It looks beautiful."

From what she could see, the cabins were beautifully designed with different symbols on each building, "What do the different symbols mean?"

"Each camper is placed in a certain cabin based on what you designed your schedule to look like. For example, if you wanted to spend the majority of your summer in the gardens, you could request to be placed in the Grain cabin. It's just to help to keep campers organized," The woman explained, "Obviously you could still participate in the camp singalong with the Lyre cabin, or go swimming with the Triton cabin, but this way you could be focused more on your interests and be surrounded by people who shared them."

"You said you went there, right?" Hayley turned to look back at her mother, "What cabin were you in?"

"I was always in the Owl cabin," Annabeth grinned at the memory, "We spent a lot of our time in the arts and crafts department. We also held the highest number of wins in Capture the Flag."

"Capture the Flag?" The girl stared at her mother with an amused expression, "What's that like?"

Annabeth grinned down at Hayley, "Well, I guess we'll have to go over there one day and let you find out for yourself."

Her daughter's green eyes widened as she jumped from her mother's lap, "Wait, really? I get to go?"

"Well, since we won't be here the whole summer you're not an official camper, but yes. I talked to the activities director and he said they would be happy to have you come down and join in on the fun," she explained, "My only condition is that you aren't allowed to ditch me when your grandma get here. THAT, and I want a ceramic mug."

Hayley wrapped her arms around her mom's neck, "I will, I promise! It'll say Worlds Best Mom and everything."

There were many surprises in store for Hayley Chase this summer, but her daughter finally getting to experience Camp Half-Blood was Annabeth's favorite. With the architect's demanding schedule and her daughter's extracurriculars, the two didn't have a lot of extra time for just them. Summer was when they could be together the most, and no matter how much she wanted her daughter to experience the same joys she did at camp, Annabeth didn't want to send Hayley to the other side of the country without her. And there was no place for Annabeth at camp now.

However, due to her new project being Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth had the perfect excuse to bring her daughter to the place most special to her. She wanted to share her experiences with her daughter. Show her the giant pine tree right at the camp entrance where she would sit under the shade and read. Tell her about the firework show that the camp would have every year. Share every strategy she helped come up with to win almost every game of Capture the Flag. Bring her to the dock where she spent almost every day with a boy. A boy with messy hair and sea-green eyes. Green eyes that Hayley's own resembled. Annabeth wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Looking into those eyes remained her of the boy she loved. The boy she wanted to build something permanent with. The boy who teased her, encouraged her, and stuck by her no matter what. Her best friend.

The boy who she tried to keep. The boy who she couldn't keep. Annabeth thought fate was a cruel being. For years, the blonde girl just wanted someone who would stay. Someone who wouldn't leave. And when she finally found that someone, life forced the two apart. Although she hadn't seen him in years, Annabeth would still think of that boy and wonder about the man he became. While working at camp, the woman was reminded of him more than ever. The memories -and feelings- they shared.

Yes, Annabeth wanted to share her experiences with her daughter, but she could not share him. Annabeth could not tell Hayley about the boy who was shorter than her for a majority of their youth together, and how he would glare at her when she teased him about it. She could not tell her daughter about the boy who would sit through every one of her architecture rants with a smile. She could not tell her daughter about how he could coax the truth out of her with a single look, and hold her when it hurt too much to talk about.

Annabeth could not tell her daughter about her first love, P-

"Annabeth!" A voice shook the woman from her thoughts. As Annabeth's daughter pulled away from her, she noticed that her once ecstatic expression was now replaced with a look of confusion. And it wasn't hard to figure out why.

When she turned her head towards the voice, Annabeth came face to face with Luke Castellan, her fiancé.

#i decided to edit and post this instead of doing my school work lol #percabeth #percabeth au #percabeth fic #percabeth fanfiction #percy jackson au #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo au #pjo #pjo/hoo #pjo/hoo au

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bbq-hawks-wings · 4 years

Text

Chapter 267 Review

So, there's a lot to get into this chapter that has absolutely nothing to do with Hawks but still has me

But we'll get to that, so let's go over the main plot, new/confirmed insights into Hawks' character/background, and finally insights into Dabi.

Main Plot

Key Observations:

Shiguraki's (not the PLF's) assets have been mobilized - Nomu, Gigantomachia, etc.

I point out Gigantomachia in particular because of the focus on his radio meaning that whoever gave him and the Nomu orders to mobilize:

Is Shigaraki himself

Is All-For-One

Or is someone with equivalent authority given by one of them.

I believe it's Shigaraki himself, but we'll find out soon.

Endeavor and Tokoyami swoop in the save the day for Hawks and Mirko.

I'm getting Tokoyami ice cream after this. Heck, might even take him to Disneyland he's earned it!!! We got confirmation that he and Hawks had started hanging out one-on-one during his internships (presumably after convincing Hawks to actually take him seriously) and do have a solid connection. This makes me very happy. Hawks does have someone he can genuinely call his friend - and in this time Tokoyami is possibly one of the best people he could have by his side, though not because of his prowess or whatever. I believe there's a strong thread in the overall plot of the next generation saving their predecessors, and Tokoyami specifically coming to Hawks' aid continues to confirm that. I have more speculations but will keep them to myself unless others specifically want to hear them.

Twice likely is dead. I have opinions circling this, but none of it will do much good until I see this conflict finished or have more, very specific information.

We'll get to this when we get to Dabi, but I can't help but wonder if Dabi hadn't ambushed Hawks if Jin would still be alive. On his own, Hawks didn't need to kill Jin to keep him at bay; but the moment Dabi entered the picture Hawks had a choice to make and locked it in. Toga has also had a fake-out death to miraculously come back, but I think it's safe to assume the worst for Jin. I really wish it didn't happen, but tactically I understand why it did.

Insights into Hawks

I would both die and kill for baby Keigo without hesitation.

Just look at him!

Protecc at all costs!!! Oh, he's so precious! But this brings me to my next point.

Hawks has been trained to be a hero who wins when the focus should have been on a hero who saves.

This one I don't necessarily blame Hawks himself for. Over and over and over and over again Hawks has shown to be a person who not only tries to save as great a majority as possible, but to stack the odds as high as he can in his favor to include as many as possible. He seeks to minimize suffering though he knows he can't save everyone. His focus is people in need first and going head to head with villains second. Which brings me to point #2.

His views on a future where heroes can breathe.

This is not rooted in a desire to not work, and I'd dare say not even to escape the Commission. He wants a place where people feel at peace. Tying in with the anime, it added details/sentiments that weren't mentioned or specified in the manga such as calling out Stain by name. We know he's been watching public opinion and sentiments surrounding heroes for a long time, and it doesn't seem like he swings to the extreme of abolishing heroes completely; but he does seem to agree the people need a symbol of peace - a paragon - to aspire to and emulate. He also seems to believe that this symbol should be able to inspire others given his even-clearer indication in the latest anime episode that Endeavor was his personal inspiration and now this flashback in the manga.

This seems to be directly in opposition to Dabi and what we now know about him.

Insights into Dabi

Let's start with his views of Stain - assuming he's a Todoroki (are you kidding me, Horikoshi?! A blacked out speech bubble?!?!?!?) - it would make a lot of sense how he would latch onto this figure who sought out personally punishing "fake heroes" with death. Endeavor has put through his family through enough suffering that most people who heard about it would consider death a merciful punishment. The lasting effects left over from the decades of abuse have left deep scars on each and every last member of the family. It also makes sense why he personally would not count All Might as a hero where Stain did because the abuse he suffered was an indirect result of All Might's prominence.

Considering how hard Endeavor pushed Dabi I would not be surprised if the inability to cry is not only a literal, physical scar of abuse; but potentially symbolic of another intangible inability to properly express, process, and relieve negative emotion:

Antisocial Personality Disorder.

This is a SERIOUS claim to make, so please understand I don't make it lightly; and I genuinely hope to be wrong because it doesn't bode well for anyone in Dabi's immediate social circle - especially the most vulnerable members of the League of Villains.

I need to be very clear, APD is not an "all or nothing" condition, and those who suffer from it can feel empathy and remorse to varying degrees depending on the individual. It's possible he may have had some kind of personal connection with members of the League, but his specific word choice is troubling. Compound this with the fact that he exhibits most of the major symptoms, has a history that puts him significantly at risk, and his current living/social condition aggravates his condition and complicates his ability to get treatment; and it makes at least a compelling argument. I can't be the first person to theorize this about Dabi, but this was the final piece of evidence that secured it as likely to be canon in my own mind.

I say this not to paint him as pure evil - in fact, he's still very much a victim of his father's abuse who desperately needs help - but to say that it makes it significantly harder to save him or rehabilitate him. I also want to bring up that it may make Twice's demise even more tragic and frame it in a new light that makes things worse.

If Dabi truly does not care about Jin as a person, there's a solid chance he did not climb those stairs to protect Jin but to get revenge on Keigo. Dabi could have been argued to be clever and managing his resources by opening fire on Hawks and Jin with the assumption Hawks would save him; but if he does have APD it's more likely he was acting impulsively and without regard to Jin's safety - that Jin remaining unburnt was a happy afterthought.

This is my biggest takeaway from this chapter and is both troubling and tragic if it's true. Those emotionally vulnerable members of the League like Spinner and Toga (who just watched her best friend die in her arms) are at risk of being manipulated up to and including giving up their lives just like Jin in the sake of Dabi single-mindedly getting his own revenge. I've said the League is fractured at its roots, but this is a much worse way of it falling apart of that's indeed the way we're going.

Jin likely would still be okay if Dabi had not stepped in. Hawks would have been able to restrain him and keep him from using his quirk without needing to resort to deadly force. Once Dabi entered the picture he not only put Hawks in a more desperate situation to actually need deadly force but emboldened Jin to keep fighting - and like a self-fulling prophecy neither side gave up until one of them died. At least for me now, there's a sense of empty loss and helplessness in it.

Nobody gets a gold star. Nobody deserves a pat on the back. This is the vicious wheel turning and hurting over and over again until it eventually crumbles under its own weight. We see seeds of hope in the reinforcements coming to aid in hours of need (like heroes should), but we're going to have to wait until next week to see the fallout.

I'm still open to talking about the chapter in asks if anyone is up for it, but I think this is probably the best I have to offer in a single post minus the fact that Keigo likely knows that Touya Todoroki did exist and is presumed dead. He can put the pieces together and it will be bitter when Endeavor eventually rejoins the main fray.

#spoiler!hawks #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #bnha meta

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