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talkingparrotkee · 1 year

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Re: Namor x Shuri working from a storytelling standpoint

I stumbled on a post trying to give an analysis of how Namor and Shuri "don't work" from a storytelling standpoint. After reading several of the objectionable points made and realizing I've seen them all before, I felt like trying my own hand to exemplify why these kinds of criticisms against "Nashuri" don't actually work. I didn't directly reblog to avoid being convoluted or dogpiling, but I'll be responding to specific points throughout.

Direct quotes are in orange

Linked sources and further information are in green

Warning: This article has many layers, musings, and points. After all, it's essentially a master collection of material. If you just want to jump to a certain point, you can. There are subtitles for every point.

The Oxymoron of Improbable and "Non-Sensical" Story Writing

In the context of specifically Wakanda Forever's story and nothing else, yes: as of now, Namor and Shuri being a romantic couple does not make "sense."

However, there is no such thing as a ship that doesn't make sense from a story-writing perspective.

With your pen, reality can be shaped according to your whim, or elements can be bent to fit the mold of a given reality. Story-writing-wise, anything can happen, and anything can work with the proper execution. A good writer knows how to suspend the reader's disbelief and make the seemingly improbable, seem probable.

Namor and Shuri already have the ingredients for chemistry and compatibility as characters, which are the two essential requirements in relationships. The media they're in gives you the room to potentially address their circumstance, like reviving Ramonda (coming back to life is no foreign concept to Marvel) or building off of the concepts already there (e.g., the Ancestral Plane or "dead not meaning gone"). There are also AUs.

Saying otherwise is simply putting a cap on your creativity and demonstrates a sheer lack of imagination.

Why Do People Ship Namor And Shuri?

To answer this question, Namor and Shuri:

Have undeniably strong chemistry. That was the first thing that had people question what their relationship would be. You don't have to register this as inherently romantic, but they have chemistry nevertheless.

Deeply connected with and paralleled-equaled one another. Shuri opened up to only Namor about her true grief. With Ramonda, Shuri closed herself off. When her mask cracked, she lamented that if she sat and merely thought of T'Challa, she'd burn the world and everyone in it. The ancestral plane, tethered to her subconscious and emotional state, lit up on fire the moment N'Jadaka mentioned T'Challa. Yet... Shuri felt that she could be emotionally vulnerable to Namor, seeking solace and answers within him. She could not only think of but also talk about T'Challa with Namor. This is after Namor was, in exchange, completely vulnerable and honest to her, showing her his scars and his cherished nation. Both characters did things they wouldn't do with anyone else. They felt seen and heard by the other. That is a beautiful testament to the bond they were forging before uh, yeah.

Shuri was healing in Talokan. It is directly said in the script Shuri was better than she was before she left, but the movie let it be a "show, don't tell." We already established she was finally unveiling her grief to Namor, but Talokan was also an escape for her. Her behavior and attitude were a sheer contrast to how she was earlier in the movie. Shuri was shown beaming, marveling at, and practically glowing as Namor showed her his world. Approximately, she genuinely smiled 11 times in under 3 minutes. She forgot her worries. The tension rolled off of her and let herself go "with the breeze". Her admiration and sense of wonder made him smile too. She was taken care of, a shame that her reason of stay wasn't preferable.

Shared several purposefully intimate moments.

Look hot and are hot together. Argue with a wall.

Can be the strongest, most unstoppable MCU power couple to date.

Create a rich, ethnic, and main poc ship and representation between a black African woman and a brown-skinned indigenous man. That's not common at all, and the thought of their cultures being connected, becoming one through their union is hair-twirling inducing. The idea of them creating a new era filled to the brim with their respective cultures and identities together, with them learning from one another, is very interesting.

They have many, many classic romantic-fantastical tropes poured into the batter that is their dynamic. You may have heard the comparisons to Beauty and The Beast (say thank you, Riri!), Aladdin ("I Can Show You The World"), Peter Pan and Wendy (Namor is deemed of a "Peter Pan" archetype. "Peter Pan" lost his Wendy, who is Shuri in this case. See Inframundo.) and Hades-Persephone.

The only reason why they're on opposite ends is due to outer forces and unfavorable circumstances at work. There's something interesting about their nuanced tragedy. There's a fun intrigue to find a way to "fix" what seems broken beyond repair, through understanding, love, character development, and healing.

Have a romantic anthem: Con La Brisa is a tender love song specifically created based on the underwater scene between Namor and Shuri. Foudequesh revealed that the meaning of the song was showing someone the sun for the first time.

Additionally, Namor and Shuri having romantic chemistry is not baseless. It was initially toyed with. Though they decided to characterize their relationship a bit differently and focus on grief-shared trauma, elements were still left in to give their relationship complexity. The way they relate and the things they did gave romantic undertones you can't just pluck out. Micheal P. Shawver, a colleague of Ryan Coogler and an editor of Wakanda Forever, said this much when asked about the possibility of Namor and Shuri having romance in their cards.

Note how Ryan Coogler, a writer and director of both Black Panther, even apparently thinks that Namor and Shuri are not unsuited for one another even then.

You can also view the original script where Namor is described as "charmed" and "smitten" with Shuri. It's only natural people pick up the pieces purposefully left behind.

Clarification Notes

Before we jump into this, there are things you need to know.

Note 1: None of this is bashing or permission to bash Ramonda, Riri, Shuri, or Nakia. They were justified and operating under grief and dramatic irony if you look at it from every perspective. Currently, this is just clearing up Namor and Talokan's perspectives because that is what's being targetted and unceremoniously characterized, but everyone has a case for them.

Note 2: This doesn't mean you need to ship Shuri and Namor. It's explaining why some do and clearing up misconceptions about their dynamic as well as individual characters. Your takeaway should be this and valueable information on Black Panther, not a decree of what you should or shouldn't ship.

Positive and Negative Chemistry

"Positive" and "negative" chemistry is confusing terminology at best and doesn't exist at worse. It's either you have or lack chemistry. There are also two different kinds of chemistry: platonic and romantic.

When describing how characters wouldn't be compatible in a given relationship, you may be looking for the term, "compatibility".

Chemistry: magnetism, attraction, and natural connection. Compatibility: a more "logical" component: your degree of harmony and cohesiveness.

You can have chemistry without compatibility, and compatibility without chemistry. Healthy and long-lasting relationships have both.

Namor's view of Shuri

Namor does not view Shuri as an equal, despite their similarities.

Pause. Namor does view Shuri as an equal. Shuri is arguably the person he respects the most.

The idea That Namor-Talokan does not relate, respect, connect with, or even view Shuri-Wakanda as human directly goes against the meta-pillar theme of Wakanda Forever.

You said it yourself:

"these are fictional characters (who represent real-world dynamics)"

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Besides honoring Chadwick Boseman, motherhood, and the dead not being gone, grief, trauma, the effects of colonialism, and the connectivity between African-Mesoamerican indigenous culture are central points of the film. Namor and Shuri and by extension Talokan and Wakanda are explicitly supposed to relate and be equal to one another for this reason. You are supposed to struggle with choosing a side, and Namor is a complex antagonist or even anti-hero rather than an actual villain (An antagonist just opposes or challenges the protagonist in the context of the story, they're not inherently good or evil. Villians are inherently evil and with malice.) Their fight is supposed to feel wrong, intimate, and emotionally charged, unlike most generic action hero fights. They are natural allies, and therefore unnatural enemies.

Namor bent in ways he wouldn't have with anyone else.

This is why it's an in-fandom joke that he was whipped or smitten. What he says on his throne when waging "war", was "Máansa'ab u nej miis tin wich." Josué Maychi confirms that this means, "They passed the cat's tail in front of my face with the hope of an alliance."

"If you see cats, jaguars or panthers when they go hunting they wag their tails because it is a way of hypnotizing the prey, then that image is what happened to Namor, that someone did like that with the tail."

Namor virtually said he was hypnotized, but the Spanish and English translations didn't quite convey that cat-involved metaphor (although keeping the crux of his lament.).

Namor could have killed Riri the moment she touched Talokan grounds, but he showed temporary "mercy" because of Shuri and Shuri alone. He didn't need Shuri's permission nor did he have to communicate with Shuri. Riri was in his domain, Shuri did not really have much power there, yet he treated her as if she did.

"It goes back to the point of him never seeing Shuri as human or recognizing her feelings as valid."

Two of Namor's quotes in the movie alone prove this wrong:

"I know you wanted me to spare the life of the scientist (recognizing and acknowledging what she wants), but now you see what I have to protect."

"So you can understand why I need to kill the scientist."

He didn't need to seek her approval or give her the ability to negotiate with him, yet he did and on top of that dressed her in the finest silks fit for royalty, consistently trying to convince Shuri like her opinion mattered, and that he wanted her on his side. It wasn't that he didn't "recognize her feelings as valid," he just felt that, based on how many of their lives are at stake, he couldn't risk it (Movie quote: "I cannot risk that, princess...").

He was absolutely gobsmacked when she said, "Take me instead." He wouldn't speak then, uncharacteristically breaking eye contact. When he could finally speak, he couldn't answer her directly, his voice awkwardly raised an interval and suddenly, unnecessarily, speaking with his hands.

Shuri wanted to see Talokan, and Namor, the pessimistic isolationist who never let a surfacer step foot in Talokan, immediately caved into her desire. There was no reason for him to do that and it demonstrates an immense level of trust. He also, quite literally, showed her the keys to his kingdom. He waited until she was beside him, looked to see if she was watching him, and then did his hand sign in the rock to open the "doors" to Talokan.

As writer Joe Cole said in The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri demands him to make the right choice that was yielding, and he does yield to her, which wasn't something he'd ever consider in his hundreds of years of being alive.

Namor gives his beloved mother's bracelet to Shuri

Fen was Namor's beloved mother. Her memory is something he held dear to him. The bracelet he gave not only was the last piece of her left with him, but it directly signified his birthright as king, was a priceless national object, and was made with their sacred plant's fibers.

He gives it to Shuri twice. One immediately to hold when he sees she's attracted to it, two he ties on her (after receiving her non-verbal permission, another sign of respect) for her keeping as a "gift of gratitude."

Namor saw his mother in Shuri

Namor saw his mother in her highest state, induced by Shuri. She was unchanged, young, and in their homes, outstretching a hand to him as Shuri metaphorically did.

Namor paints the mural of their fight

in his personal hut no less, where he preserves their history and culture. He paints them entangled in a battle with neither side besting the other. She is the Jaguar-Black Panther, a revered, highly respected animal in Maya culture with connections to godhood, and he is a mere human, humbling himself in a sense. That speaks volumes, and it's furthered when he tells Namora that Shuri had every single reason to kill him. He also speaks very highly of her, stating she's the strongest person on the surface, of the strongest nation.

None of this makes sense AT ALL if he supposedly did not view Shuri as a respected equal, let alone "human." If he somehow doesn't see her as a "human", then he sees her as higher than.

Talokan's "Violence" to Wakanda's "Pacifism"

"Namor and the Talokanil, immediately resort to violence and war when they feel a threat from the surface world. But since no one knows they exist, this threat is hypothetical for now."

This is not true. Talokan has constantly been evasive with relocating being their immediate resort. In the film, Namor says, "Talokan will not move, again" for a reason. They didn't "feel" a threat, there was a threat. People found the Vibranium within their domain and were drilling to seize it. War was a later development after Shuri took killing Riri off the table, which is what Namor initially wanted to do (in the script, this is furthered, with him saying he'd prefer picking off one person to outright war.).

"A direct contrast to Ramonda and Shuri, who in the face of real eminent threats, resorted to peace and showed their aggressors mercy."

Ignoring the insinuation that Namor was not faced with real eminent threats when he was, there is a reason for that contrast. Remember that while Wakanda was being threatened, they have never been conquered or forced to move. They're confirmed less vulnerable than Talokan, who does not have shields and lives in the ocean. They can afford to reveal themselves. Talokan cannot, and they're collateral damage to Wakanda's choice of revealing themselves and the power of Vibranium to the world.

The beginning village of Talokan has been conquered and mass murdered before the rebirth into the blue people we see now, with their ancestral lands plundered and made into slave houses. Namor almost died and was sick in the womb because the conquistadors brought smallpox. His father who he never met died due to their disease. He witnessed countless treacheries, betrayals, and wars from the surface lands. Namor spent his entire childhood watching his mother grieve due to them. As a result, Talokan has a more pessimistic perspective compared to Wakanda's privileged optimistic one.

So yeah, Talokan isn't going to play patty cake with their active aggressors who are trying to plunder them. Nor should they, because Namor is proven right with America actively seeking to destabilize Wakanda under the guise of retrieving Riri (see the meeting Ross has with government officials), and the ending with Val.

Wakanda wants to delay inevitable war and minimize the loss across the board but will go to war if pushed, which is fair. Talokan is tired and ready to give the smoke, striking fast and hard to merely end what threatens them once and for all after centuries of patience and displacement. That is also fair.

"Namor, despite wanting Wakanda’s help with his mission, ultimately doesn’t view Wakanda with anymore sympathy than he does the rest of the world. He has made it clear that he hates the surface world and everyone in it, which includes the Wakandans."

You're right, he doesn't sympathize with Wakanda. There's nothing to sympathize with. He empathizes with them, a stronger feeling and sense of connection than sympathy. He admires Wakanda and feels a sense of kinship, maybe a bit of jealousy (Joe Cole). To him, Wakanda was a threat if they weren't on his side. Why?

A) Wakanda (unintentionally) compromised them by revealing themselves to the world and the power of Vibranium. Now everyone else, armed with that dangerous knowledge, is looking for it to wield it. Wakanda can more or less protect their Vibranium, claiming ownership of it when it's on their lands, they have the power to, and they're the ones who revealed it. But what can Talokan do? They'd be forcefully revealed in some way and be subjected to attacks just because they dared to also have Vibranium.

B) Wakanda is compromising them again by harboring Riri, who is the one source capable of the machine the FBI is currently chasing down. There is no guarantee Riri would stay with them (Riri is not their citizen, and America can easily use her as a means to undercut Wakanda and force them to either give vibranium or fork Riri over, so she can build the machine, and they'll get vibranium anyway through Talokan) or wouldn't rebuild her machine. The solutions Namor could fathom were either taking Riri out of the equation for sure (a case of killing one person and saving everyone else) or taking out the threat of those who seek to exploit her.

C) Wakanda was already shaking hands with nations that wanted to destabilize and plunder them, and will want to do the same with Talokan.

D) Wakanda is the only nation that can rival them that now also knows of their existence. If they're not allies with that information, that's dangerous and makes Talokan vulnerable.

With all things considered and understandably from Namor's perspective, there's no "in-between" here. You can't be "neutral." You either are with them or facilitate your own and their destruction.

This doesn't mean he hates Wakanda or Shuri. It is nothing he wants, but something he perceives he has to do for his people, as their protector, father, god, and king. In the script, this is only further exemplified, by his, "I don’t want it to come to this. But I will not hesitate."

Namor Killing Ramonda

His line of "You are queen now" showed that he was never willing to conduct business with Ramonda likely because she was the only person on the surface world who bested him when she lured him out of Talokan(...). He was simply looking for an excuse to get her out of the picture."

At that point, Ramonda threatened to reveal Talokan. Ramonda purposefully played decoy with him and sent in a war dog to infiltrate their nation and retrieve not only their national threat but the princess who has all of their secrets without a sense of closure. The result of this act was the death of two of his "children". Did you just gloss over that fact, because Ramonda didn't just "lure" him away? He wasn't throwing a fit because he was bested. People literally died? He was cradling a dying child in his arms?

Namor was "willing" to conduct business with Ramonda, proven by the simple fact that he approached Ramonda and gave her the shell to contact him. Namor went out to answer Ramonda's call in the first place when he could've just ignored it when he had what he wanted and more in Talokan.

Namor saying "You're queen now" doesn't at all connect to him not seeing Shuri as an equal. That doesn't make any sense. If anything that undermines your point, because before Shuri is officially crowned, he immediately sees her as the sovereign leader, much like himself.

He says "you're queen now" because Shuri is likely the queen now. It's simple math: Shuri is the heir apparent. There's no royal before her now that is leading.

"It's also another reason why he killed Ramonda with no hesitation despite knowing what he knew about Shuri"

Again, Namor did what he did with no hesitation or care if Ramonda is collateral damage because in his eyes, Ramonda betrayed him, he was acting as a vehicle of vengeance for two souls, and he was defending Talokan. When she stepped in front of Riri glaring him down, that was his final nail in the coffin (no pun intended, please, no pun intended.). It was never personal to him nor did he look at it as him killing Shuri's mom. He was playing the role of a protector and king in conflict with another royal, but of course, it's inherently personal to Shuri because that royal happens to be her mother.

Ryan Coogler confirmed it was not personal for him in the Disney+ movie commentary, Tenoch Huerta says killing the queen was never in his initial plans, and Namor says this himself in the script, explaining he did what he did because the queen "betrayed" him with not only a guard, but a child dying as a result when Shuri was never in danger ("you were safe in my care").

Recklessness With Grief

No, Shuri did not have a better handle on how she externalizes her grief until the final of the movie.

"She recognizes that even though she is angry at T’Challa’s death, the rest of the world doesn’t deserve to feel the extent of her wrath."

That's not at all what she recognized at any point. "It will not be these clothes, I'll burn. It will be the world. And everyone in it."

"Even when Namor does kill her mother, she rightfully directs her anger at him."

At the expense of her people's safety and risk of eternal war. She tells M'Baku straight up that nothing else matters except what she wants, and she wants Namor dead. She threateningly pointed a finger, giving M'Baku no choice and leaving him with the command to help her in her endeavors, even if it meant sending them all to their watery graves.

Nakia: "If you go to war for vengeance, it will not fill the hole left from your loss. It will only grow larger, and it will consume you!"

Shuri: "It already has."

With every blow she landed and exchanged with Namor, we cut back to Wakanda receiving blows and being backed up into a corner.

Namor and Shuri were on collision courses where they were destroying themselves, each other, and their people by not handling their grief properly, being consumed by their vengeance, and committing destructive actions ignited by their pain.

Shuri just later had the strength to break that cycle by recognizing what he said to her back in Talokan ("broken leaders"), their connectivity, and shared traumas. She saved them both and quietened Namor's own flames in the process.

"Sure, she has some outbursts at Nakia and M’baku, but she never really alienates them."

Do not downplay the fact that Shuri is dangerous and was not healthily dealing with her grief, but instead was on a path of destruction. Ryan explicitly states that Namor shares this with Shuri: they're both trying to process and similarly struggle grappling with their grief.

Why else do you think Ramonda took Shuri outside to touch grass and do a ritual? Shuri was not ok. From the moment her beloved brother died, she was not ok. She was not magnanimous to the world. She was angry at it. She thought that there was no point in the Black Panther mantle or herb when T'Challa isn't there. As M'Baku even pointed out, she buried herself in her technology as a coping mechanism, which she ought to stop.

Shuri does alienate Nakia. Not only does she snap several times and harshly shove Nakia off of her after she took the herb, but it's also shown at the beginning of the movie she's ignoring all of her calls. In the script, she explicitly considers Nakia dead, immensely angry she missed T'Challa's funeral.

She doesn't listen to M'baku, but consistently tries to push him and his wisdom away during Ramonda's funeral. She even pushed away and tried closing herself off with Ramonda in the lab and river scene.

Namor's Desire

"All he wanted to do was push her to the extremes of grief so she would become reckless as she was."

Namor's true desire was safety for his people. He didn't want to move again or have to change who they are to survive. Namor later had a genuine desire for an alliance with Wakanda, a nation he canonically admires. Namor didn't want to "push her to the extremes of grief to become like him" because she already was like him. He just wanted to channel their shared feelings of reaping "destruction" to the common enemy.

“I think that a lot of the emotion that I was trying to put into it [Talokan] was this idea that Namor is not wanting to move his people again,” says Beachler. “So there is also, this sense of grieving, even there, of this idea of being encroached upon by humans, who are somewhat inconsiderate of them.”

"Instead you see a mutant emerging not out of genetics, but out of the crucible of oppression. Whereas mutants in the comics are born, in Wakanda Forever, they are made. And that history isn't the side story, it's the entire story. It explains Namor's rage, his desperation, and the path he takes which eventually leads to a collision with Wakanda."

It was never a case of Namor only loving and can love his people while hating everyone else, seeing them as inhuman. Namor was prioritizing what he loved the most above what he may also like, admire, or empathize with. He was fulfilling the role given to him he was forced to take from the moment he was born.

"I mean, “no love” is literally his name."

Let's slow down a bit and mayhaps rethink a little on using the meaning of his alias "Namor" as a point about him being loveless, no? That was a "name" given to him by a racist, slave-owning Conquistador priest who also called him, "son of satan" all the while he was burying his mother, the only and last immediate family he had. Namor took that alias to empower himself and take away the sting. He clearly does have love when all of his life he has been a selfless agent for his people. He thought a single or two lives were worth war over. Yes, he explicitly said it was to convey he had "no love" for the surface, but there is context to that.

"Wanting to destroy the whole world, funny enough, including other Mayan descendants who were enslaved or colonized"

When Namor burned down the Hacienda, slaves ran free. Only the Consquisdators were killed. The village elder relayed that they know of Namor's existence and were able to live with that knowledge. The only ones who died were the ones who sought him out with ill intent. The script also featured the factoid of Namor saving the elder and her husband from drowning on their wedding night, if that's worth anything. In the movie, he doesn't want to include Wakanda in the mix of the nations they're at war with either.

Clearly, he is discriminatory with who he'd kill. Who said he'd include Mayan descendants that were enslaved and colonized? The last time I checked, the only person who said anything about burning everyone was Shuri.

Namor: "It is no longer about the scientist. For centuries, the surface nations have conquered and enslaved people like us. Over resources. Since the day I buried my mother, I have prepared my people for the time they would come for us. And that machine? Is the sign that the time is now. I need to know if Wakanda is an ally, or an enemy. There is no in-between."

Shuri: "So you plan to wage war on the entire world, and want Wakanda to help you?"

Namor: [leans in and nods slightly]

Shuri: "That's madness!"

Namor: "There isn't a nation that wouldn't plunder Wakanda if given a chance. If we make an alliance, we can protect each other by striking them first. Then, when the threat of these nations have been eliminated, the scientist will be returned to Wakanda."

Namor wanting to remove the teeth from the lion's mouth and hitting first isn't the same thing as destroying everything and anything. Mind you, he is being chaotic, but he clearly has a concentrated target. Don't get it twisted.

Namor's Regret

It is suggested that Namor in particular felt regret and dislike for the situation in interviews, script, and in-film.

A) Namor is seen pensively on his throne, touching and cradling the shell phone as he awaits contact.

B) Namor's, "It could've been different."

C) Interestingly, Ryan and Joe Cole corroborated in The Movie Report panel interview, more regret was in every blow exchanged. Namor in particular did not want to exchange a fatal blow until he was pushed to impale Shuri on the rock in a desperate attempt to his life.

Equaling and Relating

Relating to someone is different from equalling someone. Out of all who were listed, whether it was Peter Parker, Riri Williams, or Namor, Namor is the only one out of those that is explicitly and purposefully depicted as equalling and relating to Shuri.

Namor And Shuri

The reasoning given for how Shuri works paired with Peter Parker or Riri Williams strongly applies to Shuri with Namor, so operating under the same logic, they largely work too.

"What makes both of these pairings work to a degree is the idea of them being equal in some regard(...) They clearly see each other as equal. They more or less agree on a common enemy and how to deal with said enemy, with morals and values that more or less align."

They do agree on a common enemy. That's literally half of the premise for Namor proposing an alliance where they protect one another. The problem just was how they go about handling things. Tragedy, trauma, and dramatic irony unfavorably played factors.

Otherwise, they're practically the same, and are now on the "same page". Their morals and values aren't far off either. Wakanda and Talokan are eerily similar, whether it be in having spying channels, an isolationistic approach, finding jurisdiction wherever they feel it (aka, if it regards and threatens them), only wanting to protect what they love, embracing-involving their culture-traditions, being environmentalists, and using defensive-offensive means if provoked by a perceived threat.

In visuals alone, they took great care to portray Shuri and Namor as Parallel Characters.

The "boy without love" and the "child who scoffs at tradition." They do have a few healthy differences (I'll save that for another article), but they are equal and deeply relate.

As said on The Movie Report panel interview, Shuri became the Panther god (the Black Panther is canonically Bast's avatar), while he is the god of his civilization. They're both royals and leaders of their own nations. Said nations are sister nations, both having the power of vibranium and the highest levels of advancement. They are both broken and with a shared trauma etched deep in their hearts. They both have a righteous, divine fire and an acute sense of avenging. They both were haunted by similar grief and pain that pushed them to seek solace in one another.

Namor is described as lonely and with loneliness by Ryan Coogler, and that's exactly how Shuri felt in the beginning as well (see her Interlude), and unfortunately, later in the movie after Ramonda "dies" (but in the end, it's revealed that Ramonda, like T'Challa, is not gone.). They brought innovative technology and a new era of living to their people. They share the same love languages: acts of service and gifts.

There was an entire montage near the end of the film showcasing this.

Riri Williams

Riri Williams relates to Shuri in a sense of being young black women whose intelligence and talents aren't always respected by their elders. They can also relate to their fathers being murdered (if they take a page out of comics for Riri, see Ironheart #9) or the loved ones that taught them what they know being ripped away from them. Maybe they also know about diffusion too as geeks, but it stops there.

Riri, like Peter, is a teenager (19 years old) new to college (the same college Okoye states is the equivalent of a Wakandan elementary school), trying to grapple with her emerging life and school. Shuri is a princess of the most powerful nation and head of Wakandan Technology. She completed the journey of school and became a college assistant at the age of 13. Wakanda Forever was Riri's debut and entry into the game. Wakanda Forever was Shuri, who is already a non-teenaged adult at this point, journeying through her womanhood and immense grief. Shuri is not new to the game, having been in countless wars and accumulated countless experiences Riri has yet to touch.

Throughout the film, Shuri acted as the voice Riri didn't have that Namor would hear, largely due to T'Challa's influence. At the end of the film, Riri invites Shuri to a basketball game. Shuri says no, prioritizing her duties and having a full plate compared to Riri's less uncomplicated, lighthearted one. This alone highlights their differences in placement and mental space.

Big sisters do not "equal" their younger siblings. They guide and protect, having some level of authority and experience over them.

And That's Perfectly By Design

Riri and Shuri are not equals and have noticeable divergences where one cannot ever relate to or feel what the other does. Shuri won't know how Riri feels the need to prove herself as a black woman in a society where black people, black women, are given the shorter end of the stick. Shuri doesn't know anything about how it is for African Americans and law enforcement. Riri won't know the privileges or how it feels like to carry the burdens Shuri does to the extent she does. Riri does not entirely relate to Shuri's grief either. Riri was a fish out of water who constantly wanted to go home despite the beauty and safety in Wakanda. They belong to two different worlds.

It is great that they have these differences because, in the words of Dominque Thorne, they can learn from each other. Their relationship in the film is contextualized as Shuri perceiving Riri as her reflection and then taking on a mentor role. Riri is, in Letitia's words, a reflection of T'Challa's choice. There are several parallels between Riri-Shuri and T'Challa-Shuri. It gives Shuri more of a personal incentive and investment in the outreach program her brother enacted. T'Challa had the connection, learning experience, and realization of the Lost Tribe and their struggles through N'Jadaka. Shuri now has that with Riri, but positively! Riri also can offer a breath of fresh air every now and again, fulfilling the chemistry she had (bubbly, plucky younger one) with T'Challa (the more composed, older, responsible one).

Whether you want to mold and configure this into a romantic dynamic, is up to you. The point is that yes they relate, yes they do have chemistry, but no, Riri and Shuri aren't equals.

Peter Parker

Hypothetically, Peter relates to Shuri in their intelligence (although I'd argue Shuri is smarter, Shuri's probably smarter than everyone), but that doesn't at all suggest they'd have the same interests. It doesn't work like that.

Peter (2001 baby) is younger than Shuri (1997-1998). He is just starting college. Shuri is around 22, 23 years old due to the snap. She was 19, 20 in Infinity War. Peter was 16. It's not a big age gap, but I wouldn't say they're peers. Age proximity doesn't indicate relatability either, especially if the maturity levels and experiences differ.

However, I will say, I think Peter and Shuri can relate to being orphans that do feel lonely (although Shuri lost and later gained family, Peter is left off completely alone), going through personal dark arcs, and suffering immense pain that changes the trajectory of their lives. They used to be more lighthearted, but now were forced to grow up and their perspectives darkened.

That's about it though. They aren't on the same wavelength or of the same caliber when it comes to their types of threats, challenges, and predicaments. Namor could entirely relate with her being another nation of vibranium of a culture the other nations seek to destabilize, destroy, or conquer, as well as someone with a similar depth and sense of grief. Riri could relate as a black woman living in America (lost tribe) who'd know a thing or two about persecution and was thrown into the mix between the Talokan-Wakanda conflict. Peter?

This isn't factoring in their standings either, with Shuri being an heir apparent and leader of the strongest nation on the surface with Peter being "your friendly (and now depressed) neighborhood Spiderman" that occasionally gets thrown outside his payroll.

Peter and Shuri can probably relate and it's easy to assume they'd have chemistry and may do a little chemistry together. But they do not equal either.

In Conclusion

Yes, ship and let ship. These are all great fictional characters with compelling dynamics. Shipping is largely for fun and often depends on the person's taste.

Looking at this from a perspective of a writer and storyteller, there's no such thing as it "not" working or "making sense" unless you have, excuse my language, shit and uninspiring writing.

#Parotkee's Musings #wakanda forever #princess shuri #shuri black panther #mcu namor #nashuri #namor shuri #shuri riri #shuri peter #seaprincess #black panther #Update tag: this isn't “fighting” or if Nashuri “should” be shipped #read properly next time before subtumblring lol #bpwf #namuri

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abysscronica · 5 months

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Morning~ This is the anon from a looong time ago that asked about Kid’s beast side, and here I am again with another question 😂😭

So it really seems like Kid has some pretty…extreme kinks. Assuming birdie isn’t into that and they were to get in a relationship, they’d probably have to open it, right? I remember you had noted that Kid let his sadistic side out with Ross and she seemed to have some pretty bad wounds, so this is something that Kid probably needs to occasionally let out. But considering how completely possessive they both are, how would that even work 🤔🧐😬

I legit also binged ‘Bonds’ when you posted yesterday and realized that the Doc is still missing?!? Has nobody realized it yet?? I really hope we will see him soon 😭

But thanks in advance and hope you’ve been doing well 🙏💙

Hey, thanks for the ask. It's an interesting concept, let's explore it a little bit.

An open relationship between Kid and birdie is out of the question, even if it's just for occasional sex with other partners. You noted how they are both very possessive, the sole idea would have them burst into flames. So what about Kid's sexual frustration when it comes to his most violent kinks? First of all, I don't think it'd be too bad. Birdie is pretty sturdy and, with time and trust, she'd become more and more open to try new things with Kid. They would have to educate themselves to keep things safe, introducing concepts like safewords and carefully exploring each other's limits, something that was foreign to Kid until now. But he does love birdie and, as much as the thought of going wild on her drives his darker side crazy, he'd be adamant not to hurt/alienate her. I talked about this duality in previous posts before, you can find them listed here. The point is that they would find a satisfactory balance. Before, when feelings were not involved, Kid was only focused on his own pleasure. With birdie, a huge part of his pleasure is now directly dependent on hers. This would compensate for the amount of violence he is renouncing.

#eustass kid x birdie #eustass kid x reader #captive

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grimescum-2 · 5 months

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OH YEA i meant to ramble about. claudine and walter since i was thinkin about em.. so i'll do that. under tha cut

thinkin theres a running theme of freedom going on. like, claudine is probably the pinnacle of what would be considered freedom. she's not bound by laws nor gender norms, basically does whatever she wants and is stark contrast to walter, a butler who's been living under the heel of others for basically his entire life. naturally they'd be curious- claudine being a bit more so, thus being the initiator.

claudine knows a decent bit about the hellsing organization, so she'd atleast recognize his face. if they ever met while out and about claudine would definitely take her chance to talk to him (itd be funny if she stole his wallet or smt from him and used returning it as an excuse to strike up a convo. thats some shit she would do) and, appearing as charming as she does, i think they'd hit it off well. he'd only figure out that she's a vampire a while after the fact

was also thinking about themes of humanity and what it means to be human exactly. claudine has very low empathy for others and sees feeding as a completely natural thing, walter does not, so that'd cause some conflict (imagining walter wagging his finger at her while she guts another person like a fish)

sometimes she worries that being a vampire will prevent her from ever living her life to the fullest. even if he also worries about that for different reasons, he reminds her that she's got eternity to live a life she's happy with and that very thought proves she is still human :o3

aging is also inherently human and something walter fears greatly. claudine might joke and accidentally come off as insensitive since she's lost the fear of aging long ago, but she still understands and tries to ease his worries as often as possible. ofc since this is a somewhat foreign concept she tries to offer a solution through turning him into a vampire. he's tempted but he has to say no

so ya!! i think claudine offers him a sort of sanctuary, a reprieve from his stressful and monotonous life, while walter offers her a friend (?) and human connection she hasn't had in a long time

#adding to the freedom bit- claudine likes to tell him to not stress what their relationship is #they both dont really know. just acquaintances who go on dates sometimes maybe #flea.talks #hellsingposting #hellsing #walter c dornez #oc: claudine

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finsterhund · 1 year

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I made my roommate watch Skinamarink last night and he didn't get it lol. He is the type to repeatedly ask questions during a movie often right before the movie explains the thing though so I guess that tracks.

I obviously agree with him about things like the pacing and how difficult it is to see things and how the sound mixing and inconsistent subtitles impair understanding and it holds on set pieces for too long. Like I've said before my obsession is rooted in how it made me think and feel and the kinship I had and the potentials it brought to the table. It's not something you really watch as fun entertainment lmfao

But he just couldn't understand how the kids reacted the way they did and that particularly got stuck in my brain.

We got into the discussion of how at that age his (very much unhealthy) birth mother was protective to the extreme and literally would not let him leave her side ever. I also don't think he was experiencing repeat physical abuse. Which of course contrasts starkly with how my mom would leave me alone for hours on end (or rather hours on end alone with my drug addict violent birth father.) So like I'm able to understand the kids being able to "autopilot" a bit despite being that young (knowing how to get cereal and juice and going about circadian rhythms and basic routines) and how they prioritize hiding and being quiet over breaking down and trying to call for help. But he can't. He was like "I wouldn't be that calm I'd be freaking out" while even at that age I knew there sometimes could be extreme consequences to small actions and it was normalized to just go along with things.

Which makes a ton of sense. Under normal circumstances young children should know they can rely on their parents. So their first instinct is to call out. To cry. Baby hominids are so helpless that's pretty much all super young humans can do is call upon an adult. Lumpy fleshy things with giant soft skulls, can barely walk, no teeth or claws. The skills at their disposal are eye contact, hold on tight with strong little grasping hand, and scream. And especially to children with overprotective parents the concept of being completely alone and without help is foreign and horrible and obviously the best solution is to cry out louder and louder until an adult arrives to fix everything. Because they have to come. That's a constant in life, isn't it? When have they not come? And they're never going to hurt you just for wanting help, right?

But for someone like me that was not the way it works. Early on I did though. In the time period shortly after mom took me back from my grandparents (so I was still used to being in their care) she'd intentionally ignore me while I called and as a result I tried over and over gradually louder. I'm on the spectrum by the way, and a trait I see thrown around about earliest signs of autism is that super young children tend to vocalize less and don't develop strong attachment so thay may show it was even more dire. Idk

This was also before my heart surgery so I was experiencing cyanosis and this may have hurt(? Truth be told the one thing I can't remember pretty much at all is the extent of how much it hurt to just exist. My memories don't really record "background pain" I can't even look back on something from a year ago and remember the "default" pain even though I know full well I was suffering from my chronic pain at the time. So idk)

Eventually of course I would learn to give up. With time she would had settled into her new job and was gone for hours on end at night. Essentially my birth father would largely stay in one room and be practically vegetative but really sensitive to light and sound (morphine I think) and it was advantageous to never give him reason to remember you're in the same house. Do not draw his attention and do not under any circumstances give him any "reason" to hurt you. That period of my life is in memories very vague and sparse and repressed and cloudy but what I do remember feels almost exactly like this movie. Lonely, having to make ones own entertainment and relying a lot on VHS tapes and cassettes and toys. All the while hoping the time bomb in the living room stays asleep in the lazy boy. There is constant fear and doom looming over your head. You feel that you are both being watched and over-percieced yet are isolated and abandoned and forgotten. Despite how distressing it is it's also very understimulating and very very boring.

I think this is essentially the vibe that the movie wanted to pull off with the two kids and the entity. That they by instinct knew to basically try to "grey rock" by not calling out or making attention of themselves. Even outright the entity admits that it "punished" the elder of the two for "not listening" and continuing to ask for her parents back.

Maybe it's reflective of how they may have been neglected or often left alone even before the entity showed up so they were used to the situation at first and it was a manner of boiling the frog(?) It's pretty directly implied the mom is out of the picture and it's only the dad by himself shown as being unable to prevent an accident because it happens to the kid in the one time he's preoccupied (although I think it's also implied the entity was responsible for Kevin "falling" down the stairs. Oh god that's another thing isn't it... again, I relate to this movie for a reason)

This pulls me down the line of thought about theoretically how quickly our "planet-wide dominant species of great ape that put all its evolution points into the hyper-socialized pack animal niche" infant can revert to "prey animal left alone in tall grass and its most characteristic attribute is for camouflage" infant when abandoned in a dangerous situation. Additionally makes me think about how there's a certain sound that fortunately very few people will ever have to hear that's specifically the vocalizations young children allegedly produce when experiencing severe life threatening things. A sound that is allegedly very difficult to differentiate from the death screams that rabbits make. A prey animal that for pretty much any other situation evolved to stay as silent as possible.

The child actors are very good at sounding distressed in this movie and there's some pretty upsetting moments but they never come close to that severity of distress. There's talented kid actors who's cries and screams of pain I've seen in movies that do sound genuine but I don't think this extreme is something that's even possible to ever be replicated in acting. I can't even say if I've ever heard/felt it despite my past. It's likely something that most would repress regardless.

The point being is that the way trauma works is that deep down past all the hopes and dreams and hobbies and interests a human is still an animal with the main goal of survival and keeping itself safe with instincts honed over millions of years for this purpose. And in order to ensure survival there is a ton of unconscious/involuntary things that this deep part of your brain will call upon as a last resort. It is often jarring and seen as a loss of childhood when a kid is driven to these extremes to survive. Things that are universally understood as the way children are and how they act and present themselves will cease to exist at this time. You have to adapt or you die. If you're unable to protect yourself and take care of yourself you die. And it's fucked up especially for us because of how noticable it is. Again, we evolved for hyper-specialized communication skills and family units. Baby braincases are so big that they can just barely be delivered at the time of birth. A child is seen as helpless and vulnerable and dependant on family so the fact that in serious situations they can be forced to essentially "devolve" into being more feral, less human, as a survival mechanism can be deeply distressing and emotionally damaging to acknowledge.

Maybe even in-universe humans had instincts to try and avoid predation by whatever the entity was and that's why the kids behaved that way. I would love a horror movie that really goes into exploring the concept of humans still having significant vestigial instincts and adaptations to avoid predation by a lost/extinct/supernatural creature or being that we long ago forgot about consciously.

This is probably one of the reasons I'm so drawn to this movie despite not liking this style of film, camera, pacing, etc. very much. It's so relatable to how I lived at those ages, the experiences I lived and what was a major part of my young existence. And then it makes a child-torturing interdimensional monster the cause of it all. Something otherworldly and new and under-researched. Alien. But intrinsically tied to how our species can think and feel. Literally so much for me to chew on here.

Hmmm speaking of, I wonder if there's for instance say... a video game... that does that sorta thing but about childhood fears and has a nyctophobia darkness entity that's trying to get its hands on the child protagonist who's afraid of the dark, a protagonist that is an extremely relatable character to me that I may absorb into my own personhood and identity as a means of coping with my own childhood trauma... Maybe the target demographic is children so it's not got a depressing outcome and has an easier to follow story. I bet I'd be fucking obsessed with this very hypothetical video game that totally isn't something that does in fact very much exist... 🤔

Aaaanyways, back on the subject of how there's different forms of child abuse/neglect growing up and how the themes in Skinamarink aren't necessarily going to be relatable to everyone out there with childhood trauma.

I see people on both camps in regards to public view of Skinamarink doing the (quite frankly unacceptable behavior. Stop it) thing where they either say "anyone who finds this movie scary obviously didn't really experience trauma growing up" or "the people who don't find this movie scary don't know what it's like to have childhood trauma"

Which (once you get past the fact that we really shouldn't be doing that to other trauma survivors. Please stop.) I think shows that a thing that may impact one's ability to empathize with the scenario in this movie being upsetting is tied not just to understanding what childhood trauma feels like but also a specific form of neglect abuse. The viewer's attachment style probably factors into it as well.

Also an obligatory preemptive response to the people who are going all "it's not about child abuse!!! Stop talking about child abuse. It's just a demon! Not that deep" I am aware that in its most literal interpretation that it's literally just an entity. It's just that the way it's presented the entity is also really good at serving as a metaphorical zeitgeist of childhood neglect my dude. It is literally a monster yeah, but shit doesn't exist in a vacuum and people draw on real world experiences and fears to make supernatural concepts click in people's brains. That's one of the pillars of horror. It's pretty much if childhood neglect was a monster. The themes the movie literally uses to produce the atmosphere are "being left alone to fend for one's self" as a toddler and "time blurring together."

I dunno. I guess that Skinamarink falls into the category of "borderline-pretentious boring art house film or something" so that's why there's so many varying qualities of "takes" surrounding it but sometimes things can really annoy me lmfao.

The people who gatekeep childhood trauma when talking about how other people feel about the movie is especially bothersome to me though. Because there's multiple forms of child abuse and neglect, all of which can cause lasting trauma and other psychological effects, and different people can have varying memories and triggers about it. And there are a lot of kids out there I'd imagine who were left by themselves and suffered neglect in a way that feels like the movie does. I know it's not just me because multiple people have mentioned this.

Watching the movie by myself again this time having found and downloaded what I think are the official closed captioning. With the captions it is a lot easier to follow the movie and tell what's going on. I can actually see that the movie does have a followable plot. And you could argue a three act structure as well if you stretch. So I take it back about how the movie didn't have a plot. Still think it would have benefited from being closer to traditional storytelling though. I appreciate how I'm picking up on blink and you miss it things on pretty much every rewatch and it can be interpreted into having deeper themes but I know a lot of people prefer something that's easy to follow, concise enough for one casual viewing, and has more entertainment factor. I'm in that camp too despite appreciating what it did do.

Also figured I would include it in this post. I have context as to why the movie went viral as "the scariest thing even, movie that is cursed and evil and haunted" reputation film and then disappointed a lot of people who went into it hyper out of their minds. This reputation stems from when it was stolen and uploaded without any context. So it randomly appeared online with no explanation and then people on the internet found this mysterious thing and it spread to the pretty much exclusively zoomers-with-unresolved-mental-issues TikTok community. With that context it may have felt like an ARG or something that wasn't meant to be found that should have had additional context that was missing. A creepypasta but the spooky lost media was actually real. Back when I was more impressionable being introduced to it that way would have fucked with me too.

God look at me rambling about stupid cartoon rabbit YTP entity movie. Fuck man. This thing has a stranglehold on my brain.

#text post #cw: child abuse #cw: child neglect #the skinamarink #long posts #Kyle Ball what have you fucking done to me I'm writing fucking essays on this thing

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mrssoapmactavish · 10 months

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hey jealousy

content warning: mature themes (it's cod, i'm not sure what else you'd expect at this point), mature language, brooding and emotionally sheltered ghost, really shitty british/scottish/aussie slang, ghost is kind of a... typical relationship believer, use of the word femme but in a demeaning and not sexy way. might continue this in a second part, but ghost and flukey do not get together in the end.

synopsis: ghost hears about flukey's partner. he's not as unbothered as the rest of the force about it, though. very loosely based off of the song 'boyfriend' by lou bega.

can be read as a continuation of "penny for your thoughts", or read as a standalone piece.

lost where i was going after basically falling into a work-related writer's block.

flukey is an oc.

that last mission was, well, a fluke, in lack of a better term. sure, their resident female sergeant was nearly killed on the roof of a thirty story skyscraper in a village of turkish insurgents trying to overthrow the current president, erdoğan, to start a "new, glorious era" for the country.

at least, that's in the opinion of the victim herself, who's currently limping from the on-base infirmary towards the barracks to start piling her things into a bag.

medical leave, she thinks to herself. a blessin', if there was actually a promise she'd be brought back.

price– ever the worried father figure for his rag-tag family of highly trained soldiers– had essentially demanded that she be sent home with time to heal, especially since he didn't want to have another family he had to travel to and deliver the terrible, terrible news with a folded uniform, dog tags, and a duffel bag of personal belongings.

soap and gaz had both been, quite honestly, jealous at first of the idea of a break. sure, the idea of a short leave was preferential to medical leave, especially considering the potential of no longer being needed by the 141.

ghost, however, had been the most shaken up about the whole ordeal, even if he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. he'd almost lost one of his most... 'unique' sergeants just because she decided to charge into and clear a building by herself.

hyper-indenpendence never did anyone any good, ghost reminds himself, completely missing the irony in that thought process.

she's actually been avoiding said superior like the plague; not out of fear of a lecture or being in trouble. nothing of the sort! in fact, rather, she's been trying to avoid a worried stare from the lieutenant that's nothing short of unnerving before she's simply told to 'be more careful'. plus, well, the man has a tendency to stalk around when one of his sergeants is hurt.

she can still remember soap's bitching about how ghost would, quite literally, follow him around everywhere on base after he was shot by graves in las almas. it was all "ah need space, lt" this, and "steamin jesus, am just takin' a piss!" that.

nothin' i would be wanting, she reminds herself as she continues to quietly creep her way towards the barracks. can barely handle him when he's not trying to keep me safe, can't imagine how fuckin' creepy it'd be when he's just.. watching over you, like a circling vulture.

this all grants her one big gift when she accomplishes her stealthy trek across the base; silence to pack her things. flukey's not one who tends to be excited for the prospect of leave, home is such a foreign concept when you've been on the field and travelling the world to save it so often. not to mentiion the change in routine takes nearly the entire leave to get used to.

not to mention to anyone but herself, either, but she can't quite sleep without her fellow soldiers around. even if she tends to bitch and moan about price's god awful dad snores, the sound of soap sleepwalking towards the mess hall each night with gaz in tow trying to lure him back to bed... it's familiar. brings her this faux semblance of normalcy, peace.

as she breaches the threshold of the public space into her private little sanctuary of the women's barracks, a deep sigh leaves her lips, the sound making her sound much more like a grizzled war vet than a relatively fresh recruit to a team of hyper-elite specialists.

just as she makes her way to her bunk, plopping her ass down to let out a sigh of relief and release– a metaphorical weight off her shoulders– three sets of footsteps are making their way towards the main door of the barracks, which causes her to sigh.

based off of the barely there sound from one, it's most definitely ghost as one part of this trio, then based off of the bounding thumps of nothing but unbridled confidence, soap is there too. by process of elimination, that leaves only the stupidest rookie alive, or gaz.

"flukey? y'in there, lass?" the familiar scottish drawl comes through the door, followed by a soft knock and a hushed utterance of something about privacy and assumptions from a much less accented voice. gaz it is.

"the fuck else w'd i be, dickwit? got a bum leg only good 'nough to shove up yer mum's arse," she barks back, this being enough of a response for the doorknob to twist, a soft pressure to be applied, before all three men pile inside.

soap's seeming much better than he had been when the squad had left him and gaz on base during the mission a few hours prior, gaz seeming rather sheepish about the intrusion of her space but also quite fascinated to note the differences between male and female accommodations, but ghost...

well, what else would he be, if he weren't staring?

"y'seem in a bonnie mood, i take it," the scot continues to taunt, not necessarily understanding the absolute grizzly bear that he's poking. not even poking, really; trying to shove a scope up the bears ass, dry, no prep. the other two men seem to gauge this, however, based on the fact that gaz gives him a light shove.

"figure 't this rate, i'd be better off workin' asses to elbows, pickin' up bullets from the battlefields," flukey responds with a grumble, anxiously rubbing her hand over the sore, bandaged wound on her thigh, with a bit too much pressure. "but i'll quit raggin' when my squeeze's here to take me 'ome."

now this catches the attention of each of the three men, to varying degrees; soap's got the look of a schoolboy who just found out his closest mate has a crush on the teacher, gaz seems far more like a cousin finding out his favorite uncle's lifestory, and ghost seems as observant yet fauxly unamused as always.

"you never mentioned anyone back home before," gaz prods, though he's got the bare minimum of respect to get her military-grade duffel bag handed over to her so she can lazily pack. "nothing special?"

"bet 'e's a real lady-killer if he got a catch like ye, hen," johnny immediately cuts in, cheesing like a finance major right before a bubble burst, and just like that flukey wishes she had just bitten her cheek and never acknowledged the men in the first place.

oh, how a bullet passin' through the temple would be absolute fucking heaven, she muses, instead i luck out, stuck with three kazoos.

"he's fine," she responds, voice too curt for what she had meant. "'m not tellin' ye much more than that, quit yer naggin, ya jag."

this is, quite simply, not enough to whet the appetites of the curious men. this is obvious when gaz looks at her with wide, hopeful eyes and a soft smile, as soap goes through the room and gets into all of her belongings, and ghost merely looms at the door, arms crossed yet his watchful eyes continue to stare.

with a sigh, she sets her head in her hands, refusing to look the men in the eyes. "he's nice. name's santino, met 'im stationed for training in italy."

and then, the questions fly. what's he look like, what does she mean by "nice", why wouldn't she just pay attention to the lessons.. and it's all too much for someone who simply wants to rest.

"christ, if i show you doofuses a picture, will you bugger off?" the redhead groans out, the two young, eager men nodding their heads quite easily as they approach quickly to get a glimpse of their fellow sergeant's personal life.

ghost, meanwhile, sticks close to the doorframe, leaned against it like some sort of shitty, inconveniently placed statue, blocking the door for anyone trying to enter or exit, yet he uses his slight height advantage over the other two men to glance over their shoulders, eyes narrowed to catch a glimpse of the man flukey's apparently dating.

she produces a small, folded polaroid from the pocket of her vest, taking the chance to remove the obstructive gear to take a natural, freeing breath, then handing it over to gaz to let the two men fight over who gets the first peek.

ultimately, the lieutenant silently decides it's his turn to finally engage in the conversation, stepping forward and snatching the picture from garrick's fingers, making soap huff a complaint while kyle himself is just surprised and a bit startled by his superior's silent movement.

the picture isn't much to gawk or gape at, ghost reckons. a shittily taken picture in some cheap aussie dive bar, lights low with bright grins on both faces. flukey's got her hair free– ghost had no idea she had curls, though the complaints over the low buns all the time suddenly made sense– in some shoddy, cheap dress that's mostly hidden because of the crossed-arm stature of photo, with slightly smeared lip gloss, soft eyes turned that feral red from the bright flash of the camera.

and just like that, he's realized he hasn't even glanced over at the man in the picture that was the reason he had been so impulsively eager to snatch the photograph from kyle's hand.

he's.. quite plain, if you ask simon. think of any generic italian man, and there he is. dark hair in a slightly overgrown quiff, eyes so dark they're nearly black, skin that oh so common cappuccino tone, a build so unremarkable you'd confuse him for a cardboard cut-out.

"e's too twink-ish," ghost grumbles out, handing the photo back to gaz who finally gets the chance to look at the picture, then having it immediately snatched again by johnny. "didn't take you as a beta-man type of woman."

something about this– something that, to any rational and properly socialized person, makes sense– aggravates flukey. what, exactly, remains a mystery. maybe it was how he assumed something of her.

both soap and gaz, though, seem to recognize the faux pas, and while they both seem worried for the well-being of their lieutenant after such a crass remark, johnny's muttering something to garrick that seems to have his attention instead.

"get stuffed, lieutenant," she barks, taking the picture back from the other two men and folding it back up. "never asked for your opinion on the blokes i fuck. not very like you to arse around either, so fuck off, y'old bag."

ghost, not quite understanding what would cause such a sudden outburst, furrows his brows under his mask and is prepared to shout back about insubordination and mention the absolute gall of this woman trying to shout at her superior. the nerve of this tiny little thing, the one he saved from certain doom, bleeding out in the middle of some warzone in turkey–

"ghost, mate, a word? let's give fluke some space," gaz speaks up, gently setting his hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, turning his attention away from the offended woman who would, quite honestly, fight him tooth and nail for her boyfriend's honor.

the lieutenant himself isn't quite sure of the idea of letting her get away with such an offence, but as soap is also elbowing him out of the room, he reasons it's for the best, and follows the two men out, brows still furrowed and stare as hard as ever.

after the door is closed, gaz is ready to lay into the man, even if he's built like a brickwall-sized fridge, solid muscle and nothing but technical expertise. he can't help it, he's used to his two little sisters always needing him to step between them to solve their conflicts.

gaz, always the mediator, no matter what situation he's in, where he is in the world, and whoever he's around.

"the fuck's with you, sir?" he asks simon, his face scrunched into a grimace. "you can't just go and disrespect your sergeant's partner like that, it's blatant disrespect, even if you're used to being mean," he reasons. and while ghost seems even offended that kyle would even dare to open his mouth, soap is nodding along, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

"aye, lt, the fuck's in yer heid, y'eejit?" the scot asks, tone a bit more gruff than expected, but ghost is just left standing there, processing his own train of thoughts that brought him to this point.

"...never thought she'd be the dating type," ghost mumbles aloud, not really answering either man's question directly, but answering it in such a way that both of his sergeants are looking at him with this... side-eye glance at each other. sharing a wordless secret.

"and why's that?" gaz interjects before soap can try and brush it off there. ghost recognizes that look in the demolitionists' eyes, and it makes him feel a bit of gratitude, even for the thought of the attempt.

"..s'pposed she was more of a traditional type, not much of a femme-chaser." the lieutenant mutters, then shaking his head at the two of them. "i'm off. she can talk to me when she's ready." then, without another word, he leaves the two sergeants standing alone outside flukey's door.

"he needs–" "tae get laid? aye, nailed it righ' on the head, gaz."

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost x oc #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #gaz mw2 #gaz garrick #kinda romance??#mostly buildup technically #god i missed writing #don't feel ashamed to reblog!!

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oldschoolvillageidiot · 3 years

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I think this is the moment I got onboard with The Suicide Squad. It's a funny moment, yes. But the emotion in her face/voice really says a lot. No one saves Harley. No one goes out of their way to save Harley. Even after Birds of Prey, I think she'd consider it a completely foreign concept that anyone would come save her. "You were gonna... save me...?"

Seeing her get this moment really sold me on the whole movie.

#Harley Quinn #Margot Robbie #The Suicide Squad

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s-brant · 3 years

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The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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stardustedknuckles · 2 years

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"Go on, open it." for beau/yasha please? (any universe is great but I'm especially partial to your werewolf!beau AU.)

I melt when someone says they like that AU, I can't help it. Like aww I made that and it's personal and other people relate T~T

More than 1k, rated T, unedited but cute wolfness. Set right after the one where she runs away from her parents' to come home to Yasha - the next day, after whatever impromptu get-together they had with the friends in town.

"That," Beau declared, "was one hell of a Christmas." She was flat on her back atop their sheets, already showered and changed into her Christmas pajamas (a gift from Jester) listening to Yasha shuffle around and get herself comfortable in the same.

She heard her girlfriend's footsteps approach and was waiting to wiggle closer when she sat on the edge of the bed beside her, humming contentedly when large, gentle fingers began to comb through her damp hair. "In a good way, I hope?"

Beau had honestly been trying not to think too hard about it - not yet, not until the day was completely over and there was nothing left to ruin by getting lost in her head. Still, the quiet "yeah" she sighed as she rested her head on Yasha's thigh was more sincere than she quite knew how to convey. Even after events that went well, she nearly always found herself looking for solitude and quiet - time to unwind, trade the responsibility of being a person for the familiar anxiety of feeling in control of nothing at all. Tonight, she just felt warm and loose, nowhere close enough to drunk to blame it on the little bit of whiskey but soothed by it all the same. The concept of a middle ground might still feel foreign, but she couldn't deny the appeal.

"Good." Yasha stroked Beau's cheek with the back of a finger, strokes that were lighter and slower than usual and which made her feel smaller, more precious somehow. "I have something I was saving," Yasha said softly, "a gift for when it was just you and me."

The audible blush in her voice got Beau's attention more than anything - when it came to giving gifts, Yasha was affectionate and gently insistent in her assurances. The presence of uncertainty had Beau's defenses coming up even as she turned over with genuine intrigue to look up at her. "You already gave me a home and a new vibrator. What else is there?"

It wasn't that she meant for things to come out so sharply, just that for all the good Yasha had brought to her life and all the work Beau had been doing to convince herself it wasn't going to be suddenly yanked away, there was no part of her yet able to accept that good things, sometimes, were just good. And Yasha was the best, so that particular bullshit came with a quicker, sharper edge. Especially when she was trying to make light of it.

But Yasha could see through it all somehow, and her palm turned to cup Beau's cheek as she hummed a little in reply. "It's nothing big, don't worry. I just thought you would probably like to open it away from everyone."

A little ripple of warmth pulsed through Beau. It was probably the alcohol, but she wasn't complaining. Anything that would help her behave like a person and not a neurotic wild thing was fine by her. Yasha deserved that much, especially for her first Christmas in a new life. "I'd ask if it was a sex thing, but we already know that's not a deal breaker in company." She smirked a little at the flush that crept across Yasha's cheeks and then, on impulse, reached up and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture that surprised them both.

"No, it's um." Yasha's hand left her cheek to turn over a small green box she lifted into view. "I know they know about...you, but I also know it's complicated and still a little scary, so I..."

Beau sat up, defenses retreating in the odd way she'd started noticing when it came to this. She couldn't put her finger on it - why the fact Yasha being okay with her turning into a godsdamned wolf seemed simpler to digest than any of the other, less complicated and decidedly more human struggles, such as the feeling of being wanted. "You get me a collar or something?"

"I looked at them, but I wasn't sure you'd -"

"I would." She and Yasha stared placidly at each other for a moment. "Human or not," Beau added. "I look good in blue."

Yasha perked up a little at that. "It's not a collar this time, but it is blue." She held the box out shyly. "I hope you like it, but you don't have to. Go on, open it."

The box was light in Beau's hands, almost entirely silent when she shook it before reaching for the bow and pulling it free. She set the lid on the bed beside her and the box on her crossed legs, head tilting at the nondescript gray-blue fabric greeting her. She lifted it and turned it over, noting the four holes and the velcro straps. "A sweater?"

Yasha reached over and flipped the shoulder to show the name on it. "It's a thundershirt. The boy at the store said it feels like a hug to dogs and calms them down. It's specifically for storms, but he said it can help with general anxiety."

There were a lot of things Beau distantly figured she ought to be feeling about now. Embarrassed, for starters. Offended. But all she felt when she ran her thumb over the label was a sense of peace - an unraveling of an old pain and a soothing touch in its wake. "Uh. Thanks, Yasha. It's..."

Yasha reached out and covered Beau's hand with hers. "It's really okay if it's weird and you don't want it."

"Huh?" Beau blinked at her for a moment. "No no, it's fine I just - I can't think of a time anyone thought of like...trying to help me as a wolf instead of." She closed her mouth. Nothing about the rest of that sentence was phrasing itself in a way that would do anything but put a damper on the holiday. "It's perfect, I promise."

She managed not to flinch when Yasha touched her cheek, forcing herself to meet her eyes as her face was gently tilted up. "You are welcome here always, Beau. Human, wolf, it's all just you." Her eyes hardened slightly in a way Beau had come to recognize as for her, not at her. "I can't go back and make the people care for you that should have. But I want to care for you the way you deserve."

The downside of alcohol: for all the sting it took out of Beau's fear and defensiveness, it made her far more susceptible to other feelings that were often just as strong. She let Yasha wrap her arms around her and leaned in, taking a deep breath through her nose and feeling a telltale shudder start at the base of her spine. She could stop it, Beau knew. It wasn't the kind of feeling that would overtake her and leave her a snarling and sharp thing. It just filled her through her limbs and ballooned in her chest, warm and bright and - Yasha had been here all day, she realized. She'd bought this shirt with Beau in mind, even before she'd offered up this place as home in no uncertain terms. Yasha didn't say things she didn't mean, but for some reason it was the understanding that she'd been wanted in both and all forms quantifiably before she'd come running back here that had Beau swallowing around a lump in her throat.

"I think I'm gonna change," she rasped. "Like instead of fighting it. Is that...okay?"

Yasha squeezed her a little more tightly and nuzzled her nose in the crook of Beau's neck. "I think it's wonderful."

Beau whined at that, a very human sound of need that had her scrambling in the next moment to push out of her skin and into the form that felt like it was waiting not to terrify and disorient but to support, to catch the overspill of all the feelings left over from spending the day with people who loved her and wanted her, far away from the stilted decor and speech of her family back at home. Far away from the soundproof room her father had commanded her to take herself to a day and a lifetime ago, away from the feeling of despair and helplessness that had carried her miles through the snow to the bus station to come back to Yasha. Beau shivered into her fur and for the first time, the only feeling waiting for her was a bone-deep sense of contentment. Yasha's arms shifted to rub slowly at the base of one ear, the other scratching through the fur of her ribs as she turned her head and placed a soft kiss to the tip of Beau's black nose.

"Hi, baby," she murmured, and when Beau's tail swished against the sheets she just smiled and gently grabbed her paw to wiggle it.

Self-control had never been anything but a futile attempt in this form, only now instead of biting and snapping there was only the urge to gnaw at Yasha's arm and growl while she chuckled and fell backwards, tugging Beau down with her to lie on her chest.

"I got you," she murmured. "And don't you forget it."

Beau snuffled at her chin and licked her cheek, and for once the skin she was in let her feel a little closer to home - safe, warm, and loved.

#prompt game #college au #beauyasha

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justsomeectoplasm · 2 years

Note

third try's the charm on successfully formulating this...

Hi! I'd like to submit my oc for the Ori Children event. ^^;

I have a ref sheet of them made that provides their appearance and a brief highlight of their backstory. I used @/always-anxious-skychild's amazing concepts of sky children born in other realms, so mine was born in Vault.

Their name is Liriome (Liri) and they use they/she pronouns. They're anxious and tend to overthink everything, especially in social situations (which they love anyway despite how much they hate engaging). She's amiable with a selective stubborn streak, and have a high tolerance of shenanigans (and sometimes gets involved in them herself).

I think she'd be interested in the Sorano Kingdom because it's most like their home, but I can see her being intimidated by the scale and breadth of it. She would also probably be interested in the Lifeno Kingdom or one of the Elf Villages. I can't think of any particular scenarios, though ^^;

Thank you! This is a very cool and creative au, and I'm excited to see how you think Liri would fare.

sorry for the unfinished ask that was my second attempt at sending one and i'm honestly surprised I didn't accidentally delete this one ahshsj

Alright since you've given me three kingdoms Liri is interested in, I will randomise these three choices.

The kingdom Liri goes to is: Sorano, the magic kingdom.

"As the lamps dim in the city, Liri held up their candle as they walk on the cobblestone path towards the kingdom, their feet making little tap sounds. It's night time, but the city is still burning brightly, the colourful lights adorn the roof of the underground. The colours reminded Liri of the firework staff the ori children use sometimes, bright and bold but only lasting for a minute. As the stars on her face glimmer, she ponder if she should continue.

Right now, Liri was visiting the Sorano kingdom. She was a bit skeptical and a bit overwhelmed of it at first, the kingdom being just one huge city underground. But after their friends encouraged them to travel it, she decided to travel towards it, hoping to find a spirit or two in the city. As they push away their worries, Liri gently starts to fly towards the city, wondering what adventures are waiting for them."

So the Sorano kingdom is a bit....overwhelming.

• This is nothing like the vault where it's quiet wishpers of it's memory cubes tell a thousand stories. Instead all types of fantasy races walk among this place, from elves to ogres, to fae and even humans (who knew?)

• Liri's anxiousness made them cower in the empty alleyways of the city, resulting into meeting some....interesting characters.

• They see a sorceress who was busy talking to some shady wizard, a phoenix trapped in a cage on the cart behind her. Liri felt bad for the poor bird, who looked so sadden while their flames dull, trapped in the cage that they can't burn away. At the last moment while they were not looking, Liri opened the cage and released the bird.

• Which unfortunately caused the bird to burst out it's flames and fly away. Liri managed to dodge the flames, but unfortunately caught the attention of the sorceress and the shady guy.

• The man yelled out something in a foreign language while the sorceress conjured some spell. Liri narrowly escaped them, flying towards the rooftops and hopping from one building to another using her flight.

• After catching their breath, they looked up to see where they were. And.....she has no idea. Damn.

• They knew they should have paid more attention when their friend was describing the usual path ori children use.

• And the lights are completely turned off now. She can't see anything except for the city center, which bright colours outshine from a mile away.

• The thought of going to the center with all those people sounds exhausting. Why did they decide to visit this kingdom? They want to go home, but meditation was rumoured to be tricky because of how much the portals malfunction. What if she gets thrown into another place full of people? What if tbere are more people out to cause harm towards her? Liri's overthinking made her feel lost......However, what is that glowing on the walls? The markings look awfully familiar....

• Upon closer look, the whole wall was covered in sky kingdom murals, all painted using the light technique all ori children are taught. Little mantas danced along the walls, a few pictures depicting skykids with their friends and...words of encouragement. Liri felt a sort of calmness when following these murals, the stars on their cheeks glowing a little more brighter then usual as a smile creeps on her face.

•Maybe this kingdom isn't so bad after all.

Additional headcannons

• Due to Liri's stars on her body, they were mistaken for a sort of "Special ori child" by the sorcerers and was for awhile a popular rumour circulating in the kingdom.

• They still get the hard headed jokes.....for megabirds sake....

• Liri found out that the best places to take naps would be the outskirts of the kingdom. Turns out there are some magical fields used to pluck herbs at daytime left unattended. The stars on the roof of the kingdom shines ever so brightly in those fields.

• Scared a group of magical students by accident once. Recieved the nickname "Swan of the stars" by the academies and started yet another rumour that a graceful ori child will grant you good luck if you give them offerings. The rumour always kicks up when exams are drawing near at the schools. Well at least Liri gets free stuff sometimes (Even if they insist that they can't grant good luck)

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #the ori children au #Love your oc btw #their design is eyecandy

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procrastination-queenie · 4 years

Text

BTS Princes!au

Note: 1)This is a modern Royal family! au headcanon. (I never saw any fic with the BTS members as brothers of a royal family, so why not post about the concept. 🤷🏽��♀️)

2)All the members of BTS are brothers.

3) Yoongi and Hoseok are twins, and Jimin and Taehyung are twins, too.

4)This takes place in the present time.

5) I will make a separate headcanon for each member (how they meet their significant others and the weddings details)later, also might turn it into a series if it gets good response.💜

6) last but not least, none of the photos included are mine, only the edits are made by me.

First things first

Maknae line are so hard to tame, I am telling you.

Yet, the queen loves to pamper them because they're her babies.🥺

Hyung line are so formal and collected, unlike the maknae line.

They are always carrying out royal duties.

They are so concerned for their subjects.

Hate the idea of leading a lavish and luxurious lifestyle while there are people out there who are suffering.

Therefore, you find each prince supporting different causes.

Jin would be supporting organisations that help single mothers.👩‍👧‍👦

Yoongi and Hoseok would focus on mental health.🧠🗣️

Namjoon definitely supporting education.🎓🏫📕

Taehyung promoting environmental causes.♻️

Jimin would probably be interested in organizations that focuses on the issue of plastic pollution.🏭

Jungkook supporting anything related to physical health maybe doing something like The invictus games as Prince Harry did.💪🏼♿

But the nation has never been on edge like this since ages, everyone can't wait to see each Prince's choice of their future spouses.

Plus don't get me started on the idea of 7 different themed, royal weddings .... OMG!!!👀💃🏽

It got to the point that whenever any of them is seen with any woman then it's instantly assumed that she'd become a future Princess. 👸🏻👸🏼👸🏽👸🏾👸🏿

The king's advisors would suggest that he talks to the boys upon the matter since they're becoming of age and should start families of their own.

But he won't force them to do anything tho.

Like he'd discuss it with their mother while they're all out doing a traditional royal activity or something.

The Queen getting excited over the idea but won't pressure her boys just like their father.

The boys won't focus on that matter, they want to focus on helping the people more.

But that doesn't mean that they haven't thought before about meeting their significant others.😉

Especially when their parents, the king and queen, set a great example for love stories.

But they find it hard specially with all the attention being on them which is not giving them the space to focus on their love life.

During one of the rare interviews that the Palace allows them to do, the 7 Princes agreed that they won't mind marrying a foreign girl.

The King and Queen wouldn't mind, too. The most important thing is that their sons are happy.

Each one would meet the love of his life unexpectedly.

Surprisingly, first one to be in a relationship is Jin.

I know everyone said it would be Jungkook, but the poor boy can not imagine to put his future Princess under the spotlight with his lifestyle, so he preferred to wait and see how it would go with his hyungs.

Plus he didn't want to be the first one to settle because the intensified attention on him that will get worst as he's the golden maknae.

The last one to likely get married or settle down is probably Yoongi.

Everyone knew it really, especially the Queen.

When Yoongi was a smol baby,👶🏻 she realised that he cherished spending time by himself.

Don't get me wrong tho, Yoongi was a sweet baby.🖤

He got along so well with Hoseok and Jin.

He even loved playing the part of the big brother when the world welcomed baby Namjoon.

He would hug his siblings if anyone of them was crying and needed comforting.

She could remember that one time Jungkook was crying his heart out because Jimin snatched his favourite toy, and Yoongi would immediately comfort Jungkook and share his favourite blanket with him, but not before reprimanding baby Jimin and making him apologize to his little brother.

Such a sweet baby 🥺💜.

But again...

It's just that the Queen noticed that her second son was not really into being a sociable person like his brothers.

He can definitely be sociable, it's just he prefers not to be.

And because of that, she knew that her Yoongi won't settle with just anyone, and that it would take time.

The king is such a proud father because all of his 7 sons are hard working and passionate about their duties.

Jin and Namjoon are definitely the ones who lead most of the important royal events.

Jin is mature and knows how to handle himself with the public and the press.

Something that the maknae line still has to learn and perfect, that's their father's opinion.

while Namjoon is really well read in politics as it was his major.

So Jin and Namjoon definitely make a good duo when it comes to the political affairs of the country.

Hoseok,Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook are most likely the ones to be on the first page of the newspapers almost everyday.

As I said the citizens would be very interested in the life of their future rulers.

Therefore, the boys are always under a microscope.

Especially those 4 because they're bold and reckless, but like not in a bad way.

With the world evolving around them, many people do realize the fact that the concept of a monarchy is old news.

And that's why these 4 are working so hard to evolve their monarchy and keep up with the changes taking place.

Therefore, they manage to surprise their subjects by their open minds and their updated thoughts upon almost every matter.

That's why you can find them all over the global news every now and then more than the other monarchies.

The boys would all probably travel abroad to complete their education, then come back to enlist in the army.

Jin enlisting first of course as he's the oldest and finishing before them.

Then Yoongi and Hoseok complete theirs.

Followed by Namjoon

Then Jimin and Taehyung

Finally, ending with Jungkook.

And let me tell you something...

The Queen cried the hardest during Jungkook's ceremony.

I mean she did cry during the other ceremonies of her sons, too.

But Kookie's was the hardest.

Because that's her last baby🥺.

Plus you know how mothers always pamper their last child. ALWAYS.

It's so unfair.

The boys sometimes think that Jungkook is her favourite, but that's not true.

She loves them all equally.

"It just hits differently when you're letting your youngest baby off to face the world because he/she is all grown up now."

That's what she always says.

Now let's move on to the important stuff ...

The Queen has an important event at which she will be bored to death?

Don't worry😊.

Leave it to her youngest twins and Jungkook to accompany her.😈

They always know how to make their mother laugh when things get way too boring.

Of course they would all show up with all their glory 😉.

The Queen is so proud of her babies.

Like who wouldn't be proud of having 7 perfect handsome boys who are well mannered and such gentlemen.

They are so smart and are always up to learn more.

Here's how they turn her boring night into an eventful one:

Make her laugh over their silly attitude towards eachother.

You know like, Jungkook teasing Jimin for being short.

Or Taehyung squishing Jungkook's chubby cheeks.

Never fail in making their mother laugh.

But now moving onto the serious part.

Once the event starts.

They become focused.

Start firing questions. (Politely of course).

Want to know more about the matter discussed at hand.

Will intimidate the host by the amount of questions being asked.

Which leads other hosts to remind themselves to be prepared beforehand in case the 3 Princes decide to show up ... No one wants to be embarrassed in front of the royal family and the public and be accused of not knowing a certain detail about the matter they're responsible of.

The Queen would have a big proud grin on her face.

Proud of her babies for being so invested in the matters of their country.🤗

Now moving onto the older twins: 😉.

You know, everyone told the Queen that having twins would be a really unique experience.

And it was true.

She swears having her first twins was the funniest thing in her life.

She was astonished to find her babies becoming the total opposite of eachother.

Like, to her Yoongi's character is the moon 🌒 while Hoseok's the sun 🌞, and the cutest thing about it is that they complete eachother.

How cute is that. 🥺😍

As we said Yoongi is calm and prefers to spend time by himself and that wasn't any different when he was an infant.

But,Hoseok was and still is the total opposite.

Even tho they were similar when they were born.

But you would definitely know how to differentiate between them.

Baby Yoongi is calm while baby Hoseok is bubbly and energetic.

You'd probably find Hoseok fussing in the middle of the night, but YOONGI !!! 😂

Baby Yoongi appreciated his sleep over anything else. 😂😂😂

The Queen would remember toddler Yoongi falling asleep in weird places at weird times.

Like how he fell asleep under the dinning table during a royal family gathering in Christmas. 😂🤦🏽‍♀️

While Hoseok would cause many maids to hand in their resignation to the head staff of the palace due to his over energetic bubbly self.🤣

Definitely was the devil himself.

Pranking the staff and pushing them to their limits.😂

She would remember that one time when they were on a vacation and they were introducing the twins to the concept of a swimming pool....

Hoseok was ecstatic, he felt like he was on top of the world and kept splashing water at his mum by slamming his chubby little hands in the water. 😂

While Yoongi kept looking around like a grumpy cat then falling asleep in his father's arms with his chubby cheeks squished on his dad's bare shoulder.

Pouty lips slightly agape.

With drool falling from his cute little lips 🤤.

The Queen was laughing so hard that day at her husband who was trying to get any reaction from Yoongi but failed miserably. 😂

Getting out of the pool and putting the twins in their push chairs for a nap.

Yoongi grumping in his sleep because the sun was too much for him which led to him waking up feeling grumpier than ever.

Hoseok was too busy consumed in his curiosity by looking down from his high chair wondering why he is being restricted in it now when he was far away from being sleepy.

Now fast forward a few years later, and the twins were still the same in their mother's eyes.

Sometimes, she would look over at them and wonder if her grandchildren would look anything like their fathers and inherit their weirdly cute personalities, or maybe they would grow up to take after their mothers whom she still has no idea who they are or when would her boys meet them.

I mean let's face it, all mums get super excited when thinking about grandchildren.

The Queen actually caught herself imaging how her grandchildren will look like after the boys decide to settle down and start their own families.

Almost had a mini heart attack at the thought of the palace being invaded by her grandchildren.😂

That is if her sons decide to have as many children as she and her husband did.

Would secretly wish for girls because obviously she didn't have the experience of raising a girl.💜

Which will lead her to think of all the royal jewelleries that she will be giving to them.

But would push away the whole thought as she didn't want to pressure the boys.🥺

Now moving onto Namjoon:

Boy was the king and queen amazed when they discovered his love for reading at an early age.

Like he would spend so much time in the library of the palace, and afterwards would go to bed immediately.

The king promised not to tell anyone this except for Namjoon's future wife.

But one night when he was on his way to his room ...

He found Namjoon sneaking late at night out of his room and into the library in his cute baby blue onsies. 💙🥺

His father won't admit it, but he thought it was one of the cutest things ever.

Just like, how he found his oldest twins the total opposite of eachother. 😍

The king as a father was very involved in his sons' lives.

They made him so excited.

Like everyday they would teach him something new, and as a father he was and still is looking forward to know more about them.

How they think, react, and what do they like and dislike.

Raising them was such an adventure to him.

He remembers when they were first expecting Jin.

Everyone told him that having a son is like having a partner in crime.

And God blessed him with 7.

Too many partners in crime for the poor Queen's heart.😂

Well concerning Jin:

The king and queen remember how he was the second quietest baby after Yoongi.

Sometimes the Queen thinks that Jin is too mature for his age.

A perfectionist since childhood.

She could remember when he would throw little tantrums when things didn't go his own way.😂

As the eldest, he is doing a great job of looking out for his brothers.

She of course understands the way Jin is as he's the crown prince.

But still she can't help but worry that he takes the position too seriously that it can wear him out.

She just wants him to enjoy his life a little bit like his younger brothers.

When accompanied by one of the maknae line to carry out a royal duty, you can see him quietly reprimanding them (yet gently) to behave in front of the public and the paparazzi.

This one time the camera caught him giving Jungkook the look because he was fussing around.

Poor Kookie looking at the ground like a reprimanded little child muttering a "sorry hyung." 😂😂😂

Jin has this faint sided smile.

He loves his brothers,truly.

Can't help having a cute little smile whenever one of them would apologize for acting unprofessionally, he just loves to mess with them.

And they know it.

But they respect him so much that they won't argue about it. 💜

Now Jimin and Taehyung are a different story:

THESE KIDS ARE A MESS

I am telling you. 🙂

DO. NOT. LEAVE. THEM. TOGETHER. FOR. TOO. LONG. ⚠️

They will bring chaos upon the place.

Even though they are not identical twins.

But unlike Yoongi and Hoseok, they have a lot in common.

Would wear matching outfits when doing a royal duty.😊💜

The boys remember when Hosoek once suggested doing the same thing with Yoongi...

But he scoffed at him. 😂

Anyways.

Even though they are trouble, but that doesn't mean that they're unaware of their positions as princes.

Therefore they won't really do something reckless. But still they're crazy.

Insepararble.

If one leaves the other to carry out a certain royal duty without his twin.... They immediately feel uncomfortable.

You can definitely feel it that they're close brothers.

But again they're twins so you can't really blame them.

definitely helped Hoseok with his pranks on the staff of the place when they were kids.😂🤭

As for Jungkook, well...:

Last child, so definitely pampered all the time.

VERY CURIOUS.

you know how children are curious by nature, well.... He is extra curious.

Definitely the most athletic among his brothers.

Very competitive.

Don't ask me why!! But Prince Jungkook would be interested in fencing 🤺

Like I'd imagine him in that uniform, sword in his gloved hand, messy hair hidden under his helmet...

And oh my God ... I just melted at the concept 🤤

Such a hopeless romantic.🥺💜

Like when the king and queen would share a short loving kiss.

All the boys would act disgusted, but not Kookie.

He found it cute.

Like he would have a hint of a blush on his face.

Smile, face down.

Hoping to find someone like how his dad found his mum.

Like it really amazes him how after all these years, with seven kids, a heavy burden of ruling a country and yet they seem to be falling more and more for eachother everyday.

If the boys learnt one thing from their parents, it would be pure love.(romantically speaking.)

All in all, the boys are doing just fine as princes.

Carrying out their duties as professionally as possible.

Things are quite normal in their lives that is until ...

Each one finds his partner.😏💜

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: Please, please, please I am begging you guys for the millionth time to not be silent readers and share your opinions. TELL. ME WHAT. DO. YOU. THINK. Pwetty pwease 🥺👉🏼👈🏼. Also I'll upload the second part of this when it gets a decent amount of likes so....

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wanda-peitro-lorna-maximoff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4

Part one here:

_____________________________________

Morgana was 16 now. Itd been a year since her father Uther announced she would be of marrying age. At the very least of age to be promised to someone, and it was easy to say that Morgana was not pleased at all. Arthur had tried to sway their father, as gently as he could without angering him, but Uther wasnt having it. The old man was already confined to his room, sick beyond repair, and he 'had to make sure his children were taken care of.' It didnt matter how. It didnt matter if Arthur would be miserable as a young king, or Morgana miserable as a house wife; as long as they were taken care of. And that's when Morganas teen rebellion really kicked in. Everyone knew about it, Morgana would sneak out late, making it incredibly easy for anyone to find her going to see her latest 'crush' of the week. She didnt mind the gossip-- she even welcomed it. The one suitor who had been at the castle when he heard about her 'cheating' - which, for the record, the prince had only asked Uther to court her; never morgana herself- was absolutely mortified. And Morgana couldnt have been prouder. Gwen and Arthur were... reasonably a bit embarrassed, but they had about as much of a chance of stopping her as Uther did. And if Gwen was really being honest, she found it hilarious. All Morgana had to do was ask for a kiss from a fair lady and the busybodies in the castle would get to work.... unfortunately the more it happened the more Gwen and Arthur were less amused. Gueinivier couldnt quite put her finger on it but it made her stomach turn whenever she saw Morgana kissing some other lady... Arthur was more annoyed in general, in a brotherly way.

But today seemed different. A lot more relaxed... no one was giving her letters from princes' or kings, and no need to ask for more favors from the ladies in the town or working in the castle. The perfect day to get up to something with Morganas favorite people in the world... Gwen and Arthur. ... well, Gwen was definitely a favorite, arthur really got on her nerves a lot, but he was still her brother. So that's what brings us to the now. Gwen and Morgana walking through the forest in comfortable silence... Arthur had unfortunately been roped into another meeting with the king and the round table, so the two thought to make it a girls day. As they walked, Gwen couldnt help but let her mind wander, glancing over to Morgana... it was true, the Pendragon siblings were both very good looking. Anyone anywhere would love to be their king or queen... but gwen loved them beyond their looks. Morgana was mischievous, mysterious and bold. Arthur was strong, dependable and kind... the two put her head in a tizzy. But with Morganas.... escapades lately... she couldnt help but give the witch the cold shoulder. The secrets and kisses from other girls were funny and cute at first but now they had gotten a bit more frequent... a little more bold. And unfortunately, Gwen was far too good at hiding her true intentions because Morgana hadn't even noticed anything was wrong. Sure she had acted a little off at times but, times were strange now... with her fathers declining health and tensions on making sure Arthur was ready to be king...

... and then Gwen nearly jumped out of her skin. Her thoughts were so abruptly interrupted by a sudden presence that she let out a squeak in suprise. the suprise guest in question laughed at her reaction, along with Morgana.

Mab had been watching the two for a few minutes, waiting for a good moment to suprise them and drop from her place in the trees. "Hello you two." Mab put her arms around the girls. Admittedly it had taken her a while to accept Gwen even as an acquaintance. But what really sealed the deal for Mab was Gwen's pure, genuine fascination. Whenever she looked at magic and its byproducts her expression held nothing but amazement, wonder and fondness. And if anything, Mab wanted to keep amazing her, just to see that look on her face. It never failed to make her laugh. "I'm suprised you're both out today..." the princess trailed off, and Morgana groaned. "Its been absolute hell back at the castle." She rolled her eyes and slumped her shoulders for emphasis, to which Gwen chuckled and shook her head. "They... that is, Arthur and Morgana... have had their hands full to say the least." Gwen further explained to Mab, who got a thoughtful look on her face before replying. "Sounds like you've come to the right place to decompress then." She winked at the girls before wordlessly leading the way further into the woods...

"Ahhhh...." Morgana sighed in relief as she sunk down in the fairy made hot spring. She didnt realize how much tension she was holding in her neck and shoulders until now, but the hot water was absolutely amazing on her muscles. All that running away from terrible princes, knights and responsibilities does a number on ones self she supposed... "Are you two done yet?? The waters going to get cold." Morgana called through the thick veil of greenery to Mab and Gwen, who were currently whisper fighting with eachother. Since neither girl was exactly ready for a suprise swim, Mab had let them borrow some of the stollen goods she... acquired as offerings in her woods. People who dont want to be kidnapped, killed, cursed or worse always left her a little something at the threshold of her home. And the few cloaks she'd acquired she allowed Morgana and Gwen to use... they were her least favorite anyway. But honestly, Mab didn't see *why* you needed to cover up around others while you swam, showered, bathed, etc. It was a completely foreign concept to her, but she got a kick out of the red faces from Morgana and Gwen she just told them both to hop in. "I cant just go in! What if its... not secure enough." Gwen gestured to the 'swim-suit' Mab fashioned for her. "Well, then itll fall off. What do you *think* would happen?" Mab hissed back at her sarcastically. "You'll be fine. Its not like she'd bite you.... well..." Mab had to reconsider that. Gwen shoved her arm and the faerie princess grinned. "Follow my lead." She said confidently, Gwen watching as Mab strutted out. She had her usual attire on. Not uncommon, since it looked like the plants that made up her base clothing were just a part of her; but the few nice touches of clothing or signs of humanization were gone.

She stopped at the far end of the spring before jumping in and swimming over to Morgana with ease. "Come on Gwen." Mab said impatiently, and Morgana shouted after her. "Sooner you get here the sooner we can play water games!"

Gwen took a deep breath. Be brave. Just like them. She rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes, calming herself down before opening them again, now with new determination. Her nerves wouldnt get in the way of this rare day off. So, she took off running... and dove into the water. She could hear Mab and Morgana clapping and laughing above, swimming over to them now as she breached the surface. "That was amazing!" Morgana said with a big grin. "One things for sure we've got to do that together-- just... neyoooommm... " she put her fist in the water suddenly, making a splash. "See how big a splash we can make..."

"Well. One things for sure, the fun is only just beginning." Mab gave them a mischievous smile.

The fun was officially in full swing. Mab had invited a few fresh water sirens to come play a guessing game with them, and it only escalated from there.

Some of the river nymphs were playing as a referee for the games going on; some of the kelpies at the bottom of the hot-water would sing while a few of the fae would try and guess what they were singing. Some of the sirens were playing a competitive diving game with their treasures; bits of bone, a pearl or two. Whoever got to it first kept it. Which, without supervision quickly devolved into a bloody fight. A few of the not-so-water-resistant creatures were having loads of fun just on the shore, making flower crowns for any winners and not so subtly trying to help the contestants who they thought were the cutest. Morgana had joined Gwen in the kelpy game, since the creatures had a tendency to drag any losers down underwater and drown them... but Gwen was doing suprisingly well. Morgana was only a little bit jealous. Mab had split from the girls briefly to compete with the sirens, winning a few games and rejoining her friends once she had enough trophies of victory. They came to sit with eachother at the edge, all three of them smiling to themselves and basking in the fun. "So. How's your day off been?" Mab asked them with a grin. "Well considering Gwen's won more games than I... I'd say not so well." Morgana joked, making Gwen laugh. "Well, I can give you some pointers next time." She winked and nudged Morgana with her elbow; making Morgana blush just a little. "Well. Either way you both look just about ready to join the sirens with the way you're pruning up there. Let's get you two dry." Mab hopped out of the 'pool' and shook herself dry a bit. "Okay *mom* " Morgana teased as Gwen and her followed. "No you pronounced it wrong. Its MAB." Mab corrected her. Morgana wasnt super sure if she was being serious or not, but it didnt matter. Mab lead them to a closed off area where she stashed the twos clothing. "Once you're dressed we can do some land-games." Mab winked at them, squeezing out her hair. Gwen and Morgana went over and grabbed their clothes as Mab got some cloth to help dry them. The fae girl allowed them both a screen of ivy and vines to get dressed in a bit of privacy...

Today was... something else. Gwen couldnt remember the last time shes had this much fun. The amazing wonders around her filled her head with dreams and her heart with hope and longing for adventure... discovering more and finding things no ones ever seen before... but only if it was with her friends. As cliche as it was... she wanted Morgana... Arthur, even Mab there with her. Wherever the road took her. They completed her in a way she could never have imagined. She wanted to be there for them. Just as they would for her... Gwen had many friends as a child. But when her family moved to Camelot, all of it was ripped away from her. She wondered sometimes... if they thought of her. But the Pendragons and this magical world... took the heartache away.... but... recently? With Morgana..? The heartache returned... no it wasnt the same as before. No force on earth could take Morgana away from her. No, the heartache wasnt one of sadness... it was longing. So similar but so different. The heartache that belonged to Morgana was one that was bitter-sweet. Whenever she looked at her it was the feeling of coming home to a warm fire and sweet fruit.

So then... why did the thought of being with Morgana... hurt at the same time?

..she knew the answer. Arthur. She loved arthur just as she loved Morgana. And yet... not. They were so different but she loved them all the same. The kind of love she'd want to come home to and kiss before bed every night.... Arthur and Morgana... were her love.

Meanwhile, Morgana got dressed. Nothing in particular was on HER mind. No... but something was on Mabs...

The faerie peaked her head through to Morganas side. Seeing she was infact decent. Mab had been infatuated with Morgana for a long time. She'd known it in her gut. Shes told so many of her friends and they all dismissed it as wanting a pet. And shes seen fae have human pets... the feeling wasnt the same. For them It was control... dominance and cruelty. But Mab wanted Morgana for the very reason just to love her. When she thought about kissing Morgana her heart raced, when she thought about curling up with her, going to bed and waking up to see her face everyday... it made her heart hurt with how much she wanted that. Real love...

"Morgana." Mab began... there was a pause. "... Mab?" Morgana questioned her. She looked incredibly suspicious... was this the start of some prank? "I..." Mab stepped further in. "Wanted to tell you something." She crossed her arms loosely. Mab had never actually planned this part out. She always figured that somehow, someway, she'd just sweep Morgana off her feet and Morgana would have no choice but to practically marry her on the spot!.... but this was definitely not how things were going to go. Morgana was... difficult to really wow, or 'sweep feet'. "... okay." Morgana narrowed her eyes at the faerie, getting ready for some sort of prank or attack of some kind... Mab walked closer... and awkwardly put her hand on Morganas shoulder... and came in closer... until the side of her face touched the side of Morganas... okay so maybe it wasnt 'telling' her anything... Mab didnt even know if she could say the right words... but she hoped and metaphorically prayed that Morgana understood.

She did. It was an intimate gesture. Mab trusted her... to turn her face to her and keep her close; faces touching just slightly. This was big... and Morgana couldnt help the huge suprised grin that spread across her face. Off and on throughout their friendship she's thought about it-- being with Mab. Theres no doubt that they got along and shared so many things in common, but she never even dreamed that Mab would come to her first. And like this.

Mab slowly pulled away. Looking reserved and guarded, waiting for Morganas reaction... still hopeful she understood, and accepted. "So... you like me?" Morgana asked with her grin. Mab looked just a little insulted at that. "Of course I like you! What do you think I am? An idiot? It would be stupid of us not to court! We love the same things, we're already so close and we-" Mab was cut off by Morgana kissing her on the cheek. "Ah yes. How could I argue with such air tight logic?" She asked sarcastically. Mab was completely frozen for a moment. "Is that a yes?"

Morgana smiled. "Does this answer your question?" She pulled Mab back in and kissed her. The faerie could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She pulled Morgana as close as she could, and kissed her back... unbeknownst to them, the screen Mab created was falling apart into beautiful wild flowers to reveal the scene to Gwen...

When Gwen saw the two... she felt like she was going to vomit. Not out of disgust. Never. But she never thought that seeing her secret love and good friend kissing could break her heart so much... she just stood there. Frozen.... until Morgana noticed. And she laughed.

"Wow. Look at miss queen of the fae... cant control her plants when shes kissing." Morgana teased Mab, who was now red in the face, looking around to see Gwen and of course... no screen of greenery. "A-um- i- I can control them! I can do... anything!" Mab argued. Morgana laughed. "Does that include making your face go as red as my hair?" She asked. And honestly... in the moment... gwen couldnt help but laugh along..... it was better than being heart broken.

#mab wlw #morgana wlw #wlw gwen #toa #mab #morgana #gwen #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #toawizards #wizards #magical

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desertdragon · 3 years

Text

Continuing with my Training series of Headcanons from a while ago ( 1 )

Last time I covered basic concepts for Vaste doing body training such as her hand to hand combat style and overall fitness exercises. This time I want to cover the other category being her spear work.

Starting with types she can use any form of pole arms but to varying degrees of success. Anything closest resembling her original tribal spears is her strongest with decreasing proficiency the further away from that she is. It's not that she becomes completely useless because she's still got excellent fundamentals and combat experience, she just can't use an unfamiliar type as effectively as a native user could. In a fight though she'd get her hands on whatever she can and not complain. Because she's still a fast learner she can trick those unfamiliar into thinking she's mastered any pole arm, but can't fool any watching masters of said weapon.

Since her base methods combine dogged hunting techniques with Gridanian martial form she likes switching between the two to meet the situation she's in, creating a weave of moves that'd normally never meet and catching others off guard at her unorthodox, rapidly adaptive tactics. She's even created a handful of new moves only she knows, with Gan being taught as well but he uses what he finds useful. Many of these favor the thrust and slash working in tandem alternating. To really knock an opponent down she'll do a short hop into a dive, mostly on shield wielders to make them falter thus opening them up.

As I've included in writing already she also favors a barrage of thrust attacks creating a rush as good an offense as it is forward defense. In fact her general attitude is aggression and The Best Defense Is Good Offense compared to a defensive, stalling, and more evasive Gan. Overwhelming is the name of the game to ensure her least favorite thing (combat) ends as quickly as possible.

These are all techniques and mindsets she practices like any good spearman would, but the soul of her weapon is equally important to her. Animism is fundamental in both traditional Zulu and Japanese spiritualism and religion, making the belief she'd hold and find further justified once encountering the Far East of her spear holding its own will very important. All weapons carry their own soul from the moment they're created just as all other things living or not do.

The breaking or loss of a weapon is considered the loss of a friend or part of oneself. I imagine the U would have their own ceremonies and traditions of respect toward weapon making and handling both out of a general sense as well as to bond a weapon new or old to an owner. Those who die could have their weapon(s) buried with them if they didn't name someone to receive it. To forcefully take a weapon or take one without showing it respect and bonding it accordingly would be an insult from not respecting the weapon's soul nor the ancestors who have used it if it's an older item.

Thus despite being forced to abandon her traditions regarding the performance of these bonding rituals (and feeling she is now excluded from them since giving up the tribe), especially given how Gridanians hate foreignness, she still considers herself to be in partnership with her weapons. This makes her feel as if spears and pole arms speak to her better than other weapons for how natural and familiar they are.

Learning and seeking out the quirks for a spear is paramount to understanding like no one else what she takes into battle. It lends her the part of her reputation in a fight for appearing to know what to react with before it can be thought, or as if she and her spear are one and the same being, no distinction between the fluidity of the tool and the user. Balanced. The appearance of no holes in her technique nor handling either. A segment of her training is dedicated only to meditation on the spear, both mentally and during physical exercises.

One such exercise involves plugging her ears while rehearsing forms, or doing so while running a gauntlet of dummy targets and striking as many as possible in succession. The aim of the latter is accuracy, however in addition by shutting off one of her senses she narrows her focus and must rely on her inner timing and instinct. She must rely on the feel of what she does. It also conditions her body to lower the amount of distractors that could pull her attention away in a real fight.

If she's really aiming to increase difficulty, she replaces the gauntlet dummies with live participants, which extends it into a test of her ability to control and regulate her use of strength and speed so no one is hurt. Other methods include waterfall slashing to simulate force pushing against her and controlling her use of reach, or using nothing but her spear or a staff to bring objects within arms length and closer.

Lastly footwork is emphasized as well not only through form drills but in dodging swinging buckets laden with stones (improvising with similar objects where those exact materials aren't available), walking across a row of logs, dodging objects while attacking in response, the classic weaving between one row of something as we do with cones in the real world and so on. Her favorite in terms of difficulty that she hated at first involves balancing a small object on a few fingers or her nose, wrist, head etc. while retreating, evading, or advancing.

#hc #I may put this under a cut later too busy playing the new Guilty Gear now #Giovanna is so fun to play I'm prob gonna keep using her even if they release Jam as DLC #things i learned as well in researching for this that applies to my HC on her lacking a dark side and being very Honest in personality-#while ancestor worship and animism are cornerstones of Zulu traditional religion sorcery is feared and hated traditionally too #it's the realm of tricksters killers and bad luck bringers who can curse anyone and so must be avoided for safety #another reason magic makes her uncomfortable- but also just a belief that gives those traditions so much complexity #I'm really loving the more cultural lessons I have to give myself on Zulu and other African cultures they're amazing

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peantbutter-honeycombs · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Title: Eccedentesiast

Word count: 3, 312

Characters: John Watson and Matilda May

Warnings: bad dreams, panic attack?

Notes: Okay here's the first official chapter. I'll warn you I have a lot of "filler"/character chapters in mind before getting to the actual series episodes. Matilda needs to develop a sound relationship with John before thing get hectic. It's been two weeks since John took Matilda in as his foster child. She's still distrustful. Unsure whether it’s actually worth it to build a relationship with her foster father.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from BBC Sherlock (2010) only Matilda and other oc's.

Rated M - for Treachery.

———————

Eyes a hickory as rich as the earth's soil blew open constricting in the illuminated void.

Matilda stood on a pristine reflective surface, icy chills one after the other creeped up her spine. Her body stood rigid and up right as straight as a stone pillar. The space around her was pitch black save for a single indeterminate white light source that illuminated the area. It seemed she was stuck in a void, an endless expanse of nothingness for miles and miles.

Compelled by some unknown force Matilda began to move forward. Under the weight of her soles the surface rippled. Was it water? It appeared to be liquid glass. A thin cool layer that furrowed and waved with each step. She moved forward at a slow pace, one foot after the other. The silence of the inky void made her blood as cold as the murky waters of Antarctica.

In the black she could sense a seed growing in the pit of her stomach, in her core she knew the feeling. It felt as much a part of her, as the heart drumming in her chest. Under Matilda's lightly freckled exterior, beneath the anxiety, she was... It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. She chose to ignore the feeling. there was nothing that could be done about it. Not now.

Matilda didn't need to look, she kept moving forward. She knew left, right, forward, and back there was nothing. She stood alone in the black nothingness.

The darkness swirled around her petite form pricking her pale skin. A chilling draught of air bit at her nape. It blew in from the west or... perhaps the East. She couldn't be sure. Matilda cautiously turned her head to look over her shoulder. She sensed— she could feel... Matilda brought a single hand to the back of her neck.

Yep.

The hairs stood on end. She stopped dead in her tracks, making a complete 180, the water rippled beneath her.

Bam, bam, bam.

Adrenaline shot through her system. It pumps and beats like it's trying to break through her chest. Matilda's eyes grew wide with fear. Every instinct she had screamed either run fast or curl up in a defensive ball and take whatever came. Matilda usually favored, was the latter. But something told her this time it was better to run— smarter to run.

Bam, bam, bam.

She ran bare feet slapping the reflective ground. The cold air cut her throat as she inhaled deeper and faster. Matilda never was much of a runner. Her short legs betrayed her. She punched away into the darkness, haring forward. She could hear the loud pounding gaining, closing the distance between her and it.

Bam, bam, bam.

Aimlessly she sprinted forward. She recognized the sound. It poured gasoline onto the spark of fear stabbing between her ribs. Fear torched her guts, churning her stomach in tense cramps. Her lungs began to burn making Matilda's breathing shaky and labored. Her legs felt like churning cement.

Bam, bam, bam.

Matilda's feet slipped out from under her. The world rushed by in a blur and she knew the pain was coming. The world went by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Then impact. Every muscle in her body knotted up, weighed down by the icy hands of the darkness and exhaustion.

The sound was closing in, so loud now it made her ears bleed. The wind viciously blew in from behind, howl more like a wicked cackle.

Matilda pushed herself up on all fours. She couldn't bare to stand all the way but she had to move. She couldn't allow the pursuer to catch her. She couldn't. Desperately she crawled forward.

Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam... crack.

Looking down from her place in the void, Matilda tried to steady herself trying to comprehend what was going on around her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she eyed her reflection beneath her. Hesitantly she presses a trembling hand against the cold liquid glass. The pounding ebbed into nothingness until, until silence was as absolute as space.

Matilda stared entranced by her reflection. A paralyzing hurt spread through her body like sharp, liquid metal. The face staring up at her was foreign, new. She couldn't hear her rapid breathing, ignored the fogging up of the surface from her warm breath.

A child stared up at her. Her eyes are a bold cunning brown, the color of dark chocolate, and her neat, earth after rain brown hair pushed back by a red headband. Her pale skin was a canvas for her numerous freckles, as if some one had strewn brown chips of marble about frivolously. She wore a dress that stopped above her knees — blood red.

The reflection wasn't hers.

Matilda's eyes, a weak shade of brown, were dim, the color of dying candle, and her curled dirty blonde hair slowly browning from the roots hung in matted knots. Her skin while pale was marked purple and blue in spots, her freckles were rather small and barely visible unless she purposely dotted them with markers. She too wore a dress, however it was one of a different style and the color — envy green.

Fear curled up inside her and clung to her ribs, settling uncomfortably in her chest. She began to inch back away from the inaccurate reflection.

Crack. A long thin crack followed her and her reflection, growing with each move backward. She immediately ceased her movement. It was too late the crack continued to creep across the surface, sounding like the crushing of bones. It worked and slithers branching off in different directions until it created a circle trapping Matilda in the center. Three large splits fractured the face of her reflection.

Certain the breakage was through, Matilda cautiously stood. Her legs were like jello but she managed. Looking around she saw no way out. No matter where she stepped the ground would break out from beneath her.

BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM!

She stood hand covering her ears, in the middle of the void that had become her world, a world decorated by it's own broken cracks. Her brown eyes flickered out, becoming full, glossy. Then all at once she collapsed, tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

She could call for help. What would be the point? Why ask for help when there's no one for miles, to hear you.

In her distress she didn't notice the lone pale inky hand reaching from the depths of her liquid reflection. Icy fingers gripped her ankle in the darkness. Eyes fearfully widened, a gasp escaped her lips. In a moment of pure instinct she reached out, fingers extended.

All at once the glass shattered below her. She opened her mouth to let out a desperate scream but all that came out was air. The realization flooded in, there was nothing to be done.

She went silently. The last piece of her to drown, a hand, desperately reaching out.

JWJWJW

Waking up can be a kind gift, especially when nightmares fueled by her childish insecurities plagued her somnolent mind.

Matilda woke faster than a cat dropped ice-water, eyes flung so wide each iris was a perfect orb of rich hazelnut chocolate. She felt a sharp pain, like a knife, in her chest. It weighed on her, as if she were Giles Corey facing punishment. Cold sweat coated her skin giving it a texture. With a long exhale she felt her limbs flex in shock. Everything was blurry, her head spun. Images of her horrible dream echoed in the back of her head.

She stole a glance at the clock on her end table, rhythmically ticking away the seconds. 1:37am. She blinked, closed her eyes, and blinked again. She wanted to scream, but that's not what she needed.

She sat up, dragging her feet off the bed. Wrapping her upper body in her blanket, she got off bed, dragging the too large single sized blanket behind her. She yawned, ambling down the quiet corridor.

She was only slightly surprised to find John, sitting alone in the dark family room, the dim light of his laptop softly illuminating his face. She had a feeling he'd be up. He always was, going over patient files preparing for his next work day. However he was usually in his room.

She quietly shuffled into the kitchen, careful not to disturb John. She'd be quick, no reason to bother him. She'd get what she needed and return to her room.

Better to be self-reliant.

She stood in the center of the flat's small kitchen, where a kitchen island would be if there was room. Around her shoulders her blanket, worn like a cape, trailed behind her like a wedding train. She sucked on her middle and index fingers, eyes glued on a particular cabinet.

I did this earlier, she recalled. Her eyes bounced around the room, looking for things that could help her situation. She couldn't replicate her trick from breakfast, everything had been moved over the course of the day. The step stool was missing. She needed to think of something. Matilda could hardly reach the counter top on her own. Peanut.

Focusing, Matilda drew in her lower lip. Her eyes lit up, idea after idea flooded her brain, streaming. Her eyes narrowed in deep concentration, as she flipped through her concepts as if they were pages in a toy catalogue.

No, no, no, wait... she paused. A particular idea was formulating in the back of her head. Doable, a bit chancy.

Matilda was wrong. (In more ways than one.) John wasn't up going over patient files, well not every night. In the dark room, sitting on the sofa, his typing had a relaxing sound. He'd drowned out the furious noise of the rain thunder against the window panes ages ago. The darkness in a way had become his sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget. Forget about things, people time had abandoned.

His eyes scanned his screen, and read through the typed out text.

"He hasn't got a clue! He's flummoxed! He's bamboozled!

He's stuck...”

03, August. The words awakened old memories he couldn't bring himself to forget. All memories come with a price. Good or bad. You can't go back and fix them. You can't go back and relieve them. As much as you wish you could.

"According to the flight details, he was checked on board. They found the stub of his boarding pass and napkins etc on his body. His passport has been stamped in Berlin Airport. He should have died in the plane crash. But he didn't.

He was in a car boot. In Surrey.

Obviously, I haven't got a clue but neither does..."

He clapped down the laptop. That's enough for now.

Out of complete silence arose a loud clatter, the sound metal colliding against wood. "What the hell?" John quietly muttered, silently cursing as he got up to investigate.

Following the sound he found himself in the kitchen.

Matilda was on her knees back to him rummaging through the lower shelf of one of the cabinets. A mess of pots and pans was chaotically sprawled out across the kitchen tile, the largest pile up blew the counter where Matilda was kneeling. It didn't take a high functioning sociopath to deduce what had happened.

"Matilda what are you doing?!" The little girl froze, all of her muscles went tight. "You can't be climbing on the counter, it's not safe." John took her under the armpits and set her on the ground. She did not like that. As soon as John let her go, she corrected herself. She stood straight, arms at her side ready to take whatever John doled out.

Her brain was a beehive, a buzz with thoughts. She didn't mean to make him upset. She just needed to calm her head after the bad dream. Her heart felt tight. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow. Her hands like claws ran through her hair pushing back her hair.

"You could have seriously hurt yourself," John went on.

Thoughts accelerated in her head. Too many, too fast. She squatted, sitting criss-cross on the floor, trying to make everything slow to a pace her young brain and body could handle.

John's scolding wasn't loud; he had neighbors and thin walls. For Matilda however his voice was so harsh it rivaled gunfire. "What were you thinking?!"

He knew he'd overstepped when he looked down to see the small girl curled up in her blanket like an armadillo. She was curled up in the fetal position eyes trained forward, completely glazed over.

"Matilda? Matilda?" John softened his tone, carefully kneeling beside her. "Sweetie I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice." Matilda remained unresponsive. He'd have assumed she was dead if not for the repetitive rise and fall of her stomach from beneath the blanket.

He waited. The rain floated down the window pane in gentle waves, the pitter patter is a soft form of music. Pellets of water plink across the asphalt scattering puddles all round the city. The gusting wind blew with great force rocking the trees carrying the droplets in diagonal sheets. He sat in the darkness tenderly stroking back Matilda's browning dirty blonde hair.

John half-asleep woke to the sound of gentle lilt. From Matilda came a humming sound. Her eyes mindlessly darted around the room, never settling on a particular spot. She was chewing on some of her hair, a habit that appeared to be calming her down.

After a while Matilda went quiet, pupils fixing on the man beside sitting on the floor beside her. She pushed the hair out of her mouth. Her voice was quiet when she spoke.

"Can I have hot cocoa... Please?”

JWJWJW

Was it the best parenting decision, agreeing to let a young child have a rich mug of hot chocolate before returning to bed? Perhaps not. Did it settle the child's shot nerves, melting them like fondue. The little girl swore by the creamy beverage, claiming it was often the simplest things that brought her comfort. Hot chocolate, her comfort beverage.

Matilda sat at the overhang counter, feet dangling over the edge of her seat. She had proved not to be one of those children. You know, the ones who ask every minute "is it done yet?" She wasn't one of those kids. She held herself poised, trying to forget the previous moments events.

Matilda had thoughtlessly been twiddling her thumbs, chewing the inside of her cheek. "Why are you so a miss? You in all your faults. You're a loon, a weirdo, a mistake." There it went, her studio inner dialogue, it was never her friend. She didn't have friends. "Can't even handle a measly nightmare. Such a frea—"

"Matilda," John's voice saved her from her own thoughts. "Here you go, lovely." Matilda flashes him a smile, not a scared one but too tired to be considered a genuine smile.

He placed a mug in front of her. It was the first time he'd been able to make her hot chocolate since he'd taken her in. Despite John repeatedly telling her that his microwave was better than stovetop — and that she wasn't allowed to use the stove — she was inflexible.

Her eyes suspiciously narrowed, this was not her hot chocolate. "Thank you," she murmured, kindly accepting the mug. John chuckled softly, the child was too polite. From the slight crinkle up of her nose he could tell she was perplexed. He could see the little cogs in her brain spinning.

What's this? She cutely tilted her head inspecting, the white whip dollop stacked on top of cocoa decorated with red rectangle flecks. She hesitantly sticks out her tongue, just barely touching it against the white whip. Chills.

For a moment Matilda wraps her small hands around the ceramic mug, letting the heat warm her clammy palms. "Thank you," she repeated more sincerely this time. Leaving the mug, with some struggle she managed to get off the tall tool seat without help. She had every intention of retaking her mug — she'd finish the cocoa in the safety and security of her own room — however John picked up the mug before she had the chance.

Matilda bit her lip, nervously twisting the fabric of her pajama top. "Question for the cocoa," John bargained. Matilda's lips pressed together, turned down at the edges, and she nodded. "Why are you up?" He asked delicately.

Matilda's right eye twitched.

Understandably, Matilda was the most reserved and withdrawn child he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was nothing like the children who so boldly so curiously sought the council of Sherlock long ago. She kept to herself. Only speaking when it seemed polite or required.

"Truth please," John requested squatting so he was eye level with the 33.4" girl.

Her self-confidence was basically dead in the water at this point. It'd been brutally grabbed from behind and held under the drink against its will. Not that herself self-confidence had much of a will.

With a shaky sigh, she submitted. "I had a bad dream.

There was always an adorable yet heartbreaking timidness to her actions and mannerisms.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John offered, kindly handing the still warm mug off to Matilda. She flinched at first, body readying itself for a scolding blow. But she relaxed as soon as she realized John was only returning the cocoa to her.

She fearing he would change his mind on a dime she swiftly took the mug, cupping it in her hands. "No. No, thank you." she politely declined taking exactly two steps back from John. Weird, he didn't seem mad about her shortcoming.

As she inched toward the corridor, eyes never leaving John, she brought the rim of the, 'Our Clinic Has An Awesome Doctor. True Story.' mug to her lips. Dark, rich and pepperminty the warm hot chocolate coated her tongue thickly before flowing down her throat.

"I'm always here for you, if you need me," John whispered, knowing he couldn't hear him already around the corner.

Matilda May. John couldn't help but care for the little girl. Not only because she was utterly adorable, but also because there was something so endearing about her in general. A bit rigid around the edges, she was sure a sweet little darling. She was broken and scared, she didn't quite trust him.

He was hopeful she'd come around, eventually. He just had to—

Matilda poked her head back from round the corner connecting the kitchen and the corridor. "Goodnight John."

John's mouth twitched, the corners of his mouth lifted up into a soft smile.

—give it time.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #john watson #original character #oc headcanons #john watson x oc!child #platonic fanfic #platonic #mild angst #panic attack #matilda may series #MM Series #sherlock #beginner writer #personal writing #self indulgent?#oc insert

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