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#so let's just imagine her eyes are very deep dark purple idk
mercymaker · 3 years
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Like their dragons the Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men
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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years
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Hey! First of all, I'd like to say that I love your works on AO3! "Fifteen Minutes With You" (or smth along those lines) was one of the first fics of levihan I read, and I loved it!
Anyway, a couple of sentence prompts that've been rolling around in my head. I'll add some detail, but feel free to use or discard anything. Writing is tricky lol!
"What if I (insert bad deed)?"
"I'll love you just the same"
"And if I (do smth bad)?"
"I'll love you just the same."
I was feeling a childhood levihan thing goin on here, maybe angsty? Idk
And fluffiness
"Wow! It's been 4 days!"
"Since?"
"I last bathed!"
*thwack*
Aaah hello! Thank you so much, I’m always pleasantly surprised to find people who read my Levihan fics from back in the day :D it brings me so much joy, you’ve no idea. 
I decided to go with the bath prompt - though admittedly, it ended up far less fluffy and far more angsty than I intended, I hope you can enjoy it regardless! 
---------------------------------------------
"Hange."
...
"Hange."
...
"Oi, shitty glasses. Hange."
No response.
Levi stands in the doorway, shoulder-leaning the frame and glowering into Hange's cluttered quarters. He has been calling her name for the better part of five minutes now, but Hange, hunched over her desk with her nose mere inches from the leaf of parchment she is scribbling on, had failed to notice him.
He kicks his boot against the door, and the resounding bang is enough to catch her attention. She jumps a little in her chair, and turns quickly to the door. She relaxes when her gaze lands on him.
"You scared me."
Levi grunts. "You didn't come to dinner.”
Hange blinks at him. Her gaze travels to the window, where the sky beyond had grown dark save for a speckle of stars and the thin smile of a wispy moon.
"I forgot.” 
Levi rolls his eyes, pushing off the door frame.
"You forgot lunch, too." And breakfast, and countless meals over the last few days, weeks. Months, maybe.
She hums absently, turning back to her papers. "I've been busy. Lost track--I don't know how Erwin had enough time in the day to do everything."
Levi gives a noncommittal grunt and picks his way towards the desk, avoiding haphazard piles of books and papers and discarded scrolls, small, disorganised mountains of debris that must have made some semblance of sense to Hange. Even as he watches, she twists in her chair and reaches blindly into one pile, plucking up a stack of papers and dropping them onto the desk with a sigh.
Levi stops beside the desk, arms folded over his chest to look at her.
Up this close, Hange looks tired. It isn't an unusual sight--Hange has been prone to fits of research-fuelled insomnia for as long as Levi has known her, so easily side-tracked by her every theory and scheme that basic needs like sleep and sustenance often took a back seat. But there is something unsettling to her exhaustion, these days. There is no manic glint in her eye, no exaggerated waving or yelling, no aroused flush to her cheeks; recently, Hange is always pale, skin papery at best, but waxy and sickly more often than not. Her shoulders sag over the desk, shirt hanging more loosely over her frame than Levi remembers, and there's a near constant tremor to her fingers that barely ceases even as she presses pen to paper, scribbling notes and signatures on countless forms presented by countless people.
Her gaze is fixed dully on the newest expense report, now. The low orange light of her lamp flickers in the lenses of her glasses; fire dances on a matt black backdrop over her left eye, where the patch is strapped firmly in place. Her right is half closed, exhaustion pulling at the lid, the skin beneath is puffy and bruised deep purple. Her lips, dry and cracked, shift almost imperceptibly as she mouths the words on the page, reading quickly, scratching her signature where needed and flipping to the next page.
"There's food," he says, leaning his hip on the corner of the desk. "Stew, and the brats hid some bread from Sasha. Go eat something."
"In a minute," Hange mumbles. Levi huffs, and pinches the top of the quill, plucking it out of Hange's grasp. It's a testament to her exhaustion, that her fist keeps the motion of writing for a second too long before realising she is no longer making a mark on the paper. With a tired sigh, she sits back, and levels her tired gaze on Levi.
"In a minute," she says again, holding her hand out for the pen. "Let me finish these first."
"Eat. It'll still be here when you get back."
She looks very much like she wants to argue. Levi watches the way her brow creases in the middle, the way her eye pinches, narrowing at him, the way her hands ball into white-knuckled fists against her thighs. But she's tired. She is bone tired, and the righteous energy saps from her within seconds. She deflates, and brings a hand up to rub at her eye, knocking her glasses up to her forehead as she does.
Levi almost wishes she had fought with him instead. There's a terrible, gnawing guilt, seeing her like this--seeing the way the weight of his choice bears down on her. Hange is a worthy Commander, of that, Levi is certain--Erwin never would have chosen her if he didn't believe the same.
But things have changed. The world has changed. And what it means to be Commander of the Survey Corps has morphed into something unfathomable larger and more complex than what it was before. It is unchartered territory, and Hange has been thrown into waters black and bottomless.
Hange pushes her bangs back from her face with both hands. The hair, limp with grease, sticks in place, and even Hange seems surprised, pulling her hands back and looking almost curiously at her palms.
"Huh. Its been four days."
"Since?"
She gives him a look, then, and there's a flash of something old and familiar in her eye. She quirks the corner of her mouth in a grin.
"Since I bathed."
Levi swiftly raises his arm, and Hange flinches, but the curled fist that thunks atop her head is almost gentle. She blinks up at him in surprise.
"Disgusting. I'll hose you down after you eat."
-----------------
Hange sits cross-legged in the tub, while Levi's fingers scrub soap suds into her scalp. The bathroom is mostly dark, save for the flicker of lamplight and the pale, foggy glow from the moon through the window.
She is quiet while he cleans her. She had eaten some food, though not as much as he would have liked; sipped at the stew and picked half heartedly at the bread the kids had painstakingly secured. It was better than nothing, but Levi finds his gaze travelling from the top of her soapy head to her bony shoulders, and to the knotted curve of her spine. He can see the shift of her ribs beneath her skin, and when she obediently leans her head back for him to rinse the suds from her hair, he can see twin points of bone at her hips, the skin brutally bruised from the pressure of their belts.
Something unpleasant rolls in his gut.
"Turn around."
Hange does, twisting until she is facing him and re-crossing her legs. Levi dips a cloth into the warm bath water and begins the meticulous process of scrubbing her down, starting at her shoulders. Hange dutifully extends first one arm, and then the other, and it is while Levi is thumbing at the grime between her fingers that she hums, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin upon them.
"It's been a while," she says, voice soft in the quiet. Levi moves on to the next finger; Hange's hands, like his, are calloused across her palms and at the tips of her fingers, from years of using the triggers on the manoeuvre gear. They are rough, but her fingers are longer and thinner than his own, and limp in his hand like this, they look almost delicate.
Levi hums in question.
"Since we did this."
Levi makes another non-committal sound. Things have been hectic, since everything that happened at Shiganshina. A whirlwind of learning, adapting, planning, everything moving at such a dizzying pace that moments like this had been all but abandoned.
Moments of peace, of quiet; moments where the world falls still and time slows to barely a trickle, they are a rarity none of them have been able to afford.
Levi dips the cloth in the water and rinses the soap from Hange's hands.
"We've been busy," he says. You've been busy, is what he thinks, but his guilt would sit too far forward, if he said it like that; it would be too brazen, and he knows already that his apology is not what Hange wants to hear. He made his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences. There is no room for regret.
Hange sits back when Levi brings the cloth down over her chest, crossing her legs so he can wash over her belly and sides.
"It's nice," she says. "I forgot. How nice it was."
"For you, maybe," Levi says. He taps her knee, and Hange hook her leg out over the side of the tub. Levi adds more soap to the cloth and smooths it over her thigh.
Hange lets out a low chuckle. "Just another floor to mop for you, huh?"
"The floors don't get this filthy."
He is careful around her knee, where scar tissue from a recent wound is still forming. It is tender to the touch, he knows, but Hange makes no complaints when he touches it. She lets out a pleasant little groan when his fingers knead into her calves, toes curling.
Levi washes over her foot, then taps the sole, and Hange draws one leg back in and raises the other one, and the process starts again. It is methodical and familiar; strangely comforting, in the mess of everything. They've been battered with new information, faced with a world that is so vastly different from anything they had imagined before, burdened with the  insurmountable task of exploring it, of finding their place in it--all of this new, all of this frightening.
But this; this is an old tale. They have danced this dance for years, muscle memory leading them in each step. Shiganshina changed some things--Levi is more gentle in places than he used to be, careful cleaning the thickened, still healing skin on her back where Bertolt's titan had burned her. He used to dump water over her head like a dog, bit back smiles at the way she would cough and sputter and stare indignantly through her hair at him, but now is he careful to keep water from dripping into her bad eye. He slides the cloth over her face with more consideration, avoiding too much contact with the tender tissue above and below her clouded, milky eyeball. The swelling has lessened considerably over time, but the wound will remain raw for a long while to come.
When he is done, he helps her stand, and rinses her down with a pale of clean water before offering a hand to help her step from the tub. Standing up to full height, Levi can see the extent of the way her body has changed. She has always been a rake of a thing, all straight lines and sharp edges, but she has always seemed strong and sturdy. Something steady, dependable.
Now,  she seems fragile in a way Levi has never known her to be. There is no room left for her to bend; too much pressure, and he fears she will snap, splinter into a million pieces he cannot hope to fit back together again.
He holds a towel for her. Hange takes it with a small, grateful smile, and wraps it around herself, then leans back against the edge of the tub and bows her head. Levi scrubs at her hair with a second towel, ringing as much water from it as he can.
She dries herself half heartedly  and pulls on the spare shirt Levi had brought for her while her back and shoulders are still damp. The fabric sticks to her, highlights the protruding bones of her spine when she bends over to tug on her pants.
Once fully dressed, Hange stretches, popping her back as she does, and rolls her shoulders, her neck. She gives Levi a lazy, pleased smile.
"I needed that," Hange says. Levi clicks his tongue.
"I know. You stank."
Hange laughs, a light, airy thing.
"Always so kind, Levi," she says tunefully. She seems loose, more relaxed than Levi has seen her in what feels like forever. Her shoulders sit lower not bunched up about her ears, and her face isn't so pinched or strained. It's a relief.
It's short lived.
"I should get back," she says.
"You should sleep."
She shrugs a shoulder at him, waves a hand.
"Later," she says. Even as she speaks, Levi can see the tension rising in her; the respite of a bath and a hot meal had been brief, and already the weight is reloading. Her burden grows heavier by the second.
"A few hours, Hange. The paperwork will still be there when you wake up."
"And there will be more, no doubt," she says. "I'll get further behind than I am already."
There is no more room for negotiation. Levi can only count himself lucky that he managed to get this far with her, to do this much. He schools his face into a neutral expression and nods, scooping to pick up her wet towel and dropping it into the laundry basket as he follows her out of the bathroom.
Levi refuses to regret his choice. He made the right decision in Shiganshina, and he will not doubt himself for that.
But the tight, nauseous knot in his stomach does not ease. He watches Hange settle back into her desk chair, strap her eye patch over her still-damp hair, and bow herself over the pile of papers she had abandoned on the desk, and the sickening unease swells to his chest, pushing the air from his lungs.
He made the choice to condemn Erwin to death. He will do everything he can to ensure he has not done the same thing to her.
--------------- 
Thank you again for the ask!! If anyone else has prompts, please feel free to send them :) I can’t promise I’ll fill everything, but it’s a fun exercise 
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bubblegumbeech · 3 years
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Passing Through
Dannymay Day 5: Doorway
“Don’t go in there,” his mother warned. Her voice shook. “Never go through that door.”
Danny had no intention of ignoring his mother, especially since the night she’d given him that warning was seared so thoroughly in his mind he didn’t think even as an adult he’d ever forget it.
It had been dark, but not any darker than any other night with Danny’s myriad nightlights and glowing stars stuck everywhere he could reach and then some. The night had long since settled, and Danny was supposed to be sleeping and was instead, like any young child, not doing that.
In fact, he’d been staring out his window, arm balanced on the sill and face pressed up against the glass so he could see the night sky in all her glory. It was one of the only times he felt truly comfortable, alone and with his parents and sister asleep. He often imagined himself sailing amongst those stars. Or flying high enough to reach out and cradle one to his chest. 
Jazz always told him that was impossible, that each star was as far away from each other as they were from earth, if not further. He told her she could eat dirt, and she got a hurt look in her eyes that made him feel bad, but he didn’t apologize because she was being mean first. 
He’d been preoccupied, that’s why he didn’t notice it at first. 
When the soft pink touch of the sun started obscuring the night’s stars, Danny realized he’d been up all night and he was probably going to fall asleep in class again. He turned around to quickly dive into bed to at least feign having slept so his parents didn’t scold him and feel like they had to check in on him at night the way they threatened to last time. 
He hadn’t expected the door. 
It was small, very small compared to a normal door. It was just large enough that Danny could crawl through on all fours, and he knew there was no way his dad would ever be able to get through. At least not more than an arm. Maybe his head if he tried to dive through it.
The door was closed, a soft, purple light on the other side painting the carpet beneath where it stood, balanced, in the middle of the room. Acting as if it was placed in the wall like any good door, but missing the wall itself entirely. 
Danny walked closer, his mind off bed times and getting ready for school entirely. Now he was thinking of adventures and stories Jazz used to read him before he could read himself. Stories of exploration and hidden worlds. His hand brushed against the polished brass handle, and a jolt of electricity flowed through him, causing every hair in his body to stand on end. 
He probably should have let go then, released the handle and backed up, frightened. But instead Danny’s grip tightened and he twisted the nob, pulling it slowly open, his heart beating in rapt anticipation. It was barely open a sliver, the tiniest bit of purple light spilling out onto the frame, when his mother ran into the room and slammed it closed. 
She was wearing a hazmat suit, as if she’d just come from the lab downstairs, with thick rubber gloves and ominous red goggles that reflected a twisted version of Danny’s face back at him as she pulled him into a tight, unforgiving hug. 
“Thank goodness you’re safe,” she said, her words heavy with exertion. Had she run up here? How did she know there was a door? 
Danny looked over his mother’s shoulder to take another look, but the door had vanished at some point when his eyes were no longer locked upon it. That was when she gave him her warning. The one he had no intention of ignoring.
The one he was disregarding now, for no reason other than he was sick of it. He was tired of the nights, laying awake and seeing a door that promised so much and had yet to be given the opportunity to deliver. 
His mother would skin him alive if she knew, but she’d probably never find out. Honestly, if Tucker’s theories were true and it was some monster trying to trick him into its lair Coraline-style, it’d probably take at least a week for her to even realize he was gone. His dad probably wouldn’t notice at all. 
Jazz…
Danny shook his head. If anything, Jazz would be the one to forgive him for being dumb. She understood what it was like to have this burning curiosity, this need to know. 
The door didn’t always appear. Most nights it did, but only when Danny was distracted by something, usually the stars outside his window, sometimes a particularly fun video game or a good book. It only ever appeared right on the cusp of night and morning, before the sun rose fully but after the stars hid away. And it always waited for him to look away before it disappeared. 
He didn’t plan on looking away tonight. 
The first night after his mother’s warning, he’d stayed up all night, terrified, waiting for the door to appear. It never did. In fact, the next month, he spent every second awake expecting it to appear and being almost disappointed when it didn’t. 
It appeared again, in much the same way it had the first time, while Danny was star gazing. 
That’s why, now, knowing the rules (or rather what few rules he could tell from this side of the door), Danny was determined to follow through. None of his questions would be answered just waiting for the door to appear or not appear, nor would they be answered by spending time staring at it and studying it from the outside. 
He needed to go through.
The brass knob was cold against his palm, and it turned easily. The click of the mechanism was loud in the night’s quiet. He held his breath. He opened the door.
There was no resistance when it swung open. Almost the opposite, in fact, like it had been waiting for an excuse. The soft purple light that had teased the edges of the door was much closer to a deep, swirling purple that looked almost like mist and obscured the path forward. 
But Danny wasn’t scared. 
He was curious. 
He stepped through, and heard the door close softly behind him. Just like in a horror movie really, and exactly like the stories his mother told him, warning him of monsters and things from the other side. 
It didn’t matter anymore, if he’d made the right choice. He’d made his choice and there was only one path to take. Danny walked into the mists and kept walking.
No more than an hour could have passed, but it felt like much longer. Time seemed to stretch along with the endless path, and Danny hadn’t come any closer to the answers he wanted. 
He sighed. “Hello? Is anyone here?” he tried calling out, to no avail. 
This was turning out to be a waste of a trip. With all the cryptic warnings, he’d hoped it wouldn’t be boring at the very least, yet here he was. The only difference between this and one of Sam’s ‘nature hikes’ was that Danny couldn’t see anything through the damned purple mist.
Or could he?
Danny squinted his eyes, catching something moving just to his left. It was very much hidden, the deep purple of its cloak camouflaged perfectly against the swirling purples all around him. He took a step closer, off the path, and felt the air still around him.
A voice, haunting and deep, startled him. 
“A quick learner,” it said. 
Danny felt his mouth go dry. There was actually someone here, someone that might not be human. Someone that could summon a door into a kids room for half a decade waiting for them to open it. 
Someone who might have answers.
Danny stepped closer, and the mist seemed to gather, catching on itself and folding into a physical shape. The hooded figure. Danny forced himself not to blink. It felt like anything was possible, that if he looked away, he’d miss too much to make sense of it later. 
The hooded figure turned to him and beckoned with one gloved hand, the other holding a twisting, intricate staff covered in shapes and symbols Danny couldn’t quite make out. Danny didn’t step any closer.
It was clear this man wasn’t human, or at the very least hadn’t been for some time. The only thing Danny could see hidden under the cloak was an old clock. But even then, Danny couldn’t tell whether it was something he was wearing on his chest or if it simply was his chest and there was nothing else.
“You’re still cautious, even now when you’ve already made your decision?” the figure asked. “Did you not seek an answer to your curiosity?”
Danny frowned. This whatever-it-was knew more than he was comfortable with. Had he been watching from the other side? How? Is that why the door only appeared when it did? Why couldn’t he just open the door and step out if his goal was to spirit Danny away like in the stories? 
There were just so many questions, and Danny still didn’t have any answers. 
“Do you actually have any answers or are you just going to eat me?” he asked, growing irritated. It had been a long night, made longer by his fruitless walk, and it was starting to affect his temper.
Instead of answering, the figure lowered his arm, tilting his head to the side. “If you thought I was going to eat you, why did you come through the door? You’ve been very good at ignoring it so far.” 
“Yeah see,” Danny said, throwing up his hands, “that kind of stuff only makes you sound more creepy and suspicious, you know! If your goal is child eating you should set up, idk a candy house or something. Pretend to be a grandma, I hear that works wonders provided you stay out of your own oven.”
The figure laughed. It sounded, off, not like a noise Danny recognized, but more like a collage of sounds: a ticking clock chiming with heavy clanking clockwork all wrapped in canary song and it vibrated all the way through Danny from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It filled the air around them much like the mist once did and Danny felt glee himself, caught up as he was.
He looked up desperately at the figure, trying to keep ahold of himself and how he truly felt, lost in the sudden sea of emotion. The figure’s cloak was bunched up, as if he was doubled over in laughter, his gloves clutching at his staff and the entire collection shaking with slight tremors.
The hood turned towards him, empty, and Danny’s panic spiked. The laughter stopped, and the figure stood once more, pulling the hood further down and hiding the nothingness underneath.
“I apologize,” he said, sincere. “It’s been some time since I’ve felt in such good humor, and you took me off guard. I hope you didn’t get too swept away?”
Danny, who was still definitely feeling the effects of the other’s laughter, shook his head no. “I’m alright. I just- what are you?”
“I am like Clockwork,” he answered readily. “Though the question you should be asking, Daniel, is what are you? That is a much more interesting answer.”
Disagreeing vehemently, Danny shook his head. Like Clockwork? Was that his name? Why he had a clock, er, was a clock? How did that work? What was he? Simply what his name implied? Something more? There were a billion and a half questions he wanted answers to that were more interesting than that. 
Then again, there had to be a reason he said it, right? “Okay Clockwork, I’ll bite. What am I?”
He could swear the thing smiled. “You are halfway there.”
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jinxxedwammys · 3 years
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Ok hear me out. I’ve listened to “Sway with me (slowed)” by Cytus II and I have this whole imagine of the reader at a masquerade ball as an undercover agent, and as The Wammy Bois (preferably L or Near) S/O or crush. Well the situation turns for the worst and L (or near) rushes out into the party (he was originally watching on cams) to get a hold of the situation to either like confront the Bad Guy or just protect the reader. Idk I think about it when I listen to the song. Love your writing btw
Aww thanks anon, I'm glad you like my writing! And damn, I like this one a lot! This calls for a fic. Thanks for requesting! (Not me accidentally making this somewhat like that ball scene in Black Butler.. oof)
For this I chose L and decided not to do Near, I hope that's okay.
Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking, Main antagonist being a creep, daggers.
(Image from some wallpaper site and very lightly and badly edited with befunky)
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The night was young, the sun had only just set below the horizon plunging the city into darkness. At 8PM this night there was a masquerade ball at a very wealthy businessman's mansion. As all the high society guests exited their limousines and luxury cars escorted by servants you stood staring at the lavish mansion.
"I feel so out of place here... Do I really blend in enough?" You quietly asked Watari who stood beside you as your "servant". You shifted uncomfortably and looked to him for an answer.
"Yes, of course you do. You fit in very well. Please do not worry, I'm sure you will be alright in there." He bowed before reentering the drivers seat of the vehicle you'd arrived in. You took a deep breath before carefully ascending the marble stairs leading to he door. Before you could be noticed by anyone in particular, you placed the earpiece you had been provided in your ear disguising it with your hair.
Unlike the other guests, tonight wasn't about enjoyment or entertainment for you. You were assisting with an investigation into one of the high class men attending this party known as Daniel Grant. He had been suspected of human trafficking, though it seems he had been doing more than just that. A recent investigation by the private investigator known only to the public as L suggested that he may potentially be behind multiple murders in the area. As it happens, you were the lynchpin in solving this case and getting the evidence needed to put Daniel Grant and all involved behind bars.
He seemed to target young people between the ages of 18 and 25. As it happens, you were perfect for that role. You were also a police officer. So only two weeks ago, you had been asked to assist the one and only L. Of course, when he contacted you, you were overjoyed. Finally, something more interesting than petty crime! But now, as you entered the lavish mansion you were far less confident than you were when you initially joined.
You knew L was watching the camera feeds from the CCTV system, but it still didn't calm your nerves. You nervously approached the table where the guest sign in book was placed, carefully signing your alias. Then you made your way to the ballroom where the party was held. You took a deep breath and adjusted your mask before entering into the room.
Inside, everyone was chatting amongst themselves every single person dressed very formally, women in beautiful ballgowns, men in fancy suits. Every single one wore a masquerade mask, some plain and simple, some adorned with gemstones, lace and other ornate designs. Everyone went silent when one man tapped his glass with a fork.
"Hello everyone, I'd like to thank you for attending tonight. Thank you all for celebrating my niece's 20th birthday with us" He motioned to a young girl blonde girl wearing a dark pink dress with a black lace mask. Everyone gave a short applause in response. "Please enjoy yourselves" He bowed slightly. You hadn't known this was a birthday party beforehand. You wondered what Daniel Grant had to do with this girl. About 20 minutes into the party, you decided to check in with L as you hadn't heard a thing from him since you arrived. You excused yourself to the bathroom.
"L are you listening?" You asked quietly and waited for a response.
"Yes, I am, is anything wrong?" He asked. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you right now, there were no cameras in the bathroom.
"N..No, I haven't seen Daniel yet either... I was just making sure you were there." you hurriedly replied.
"Mmh, I'll guide you to him if you would like, I can see him on the cameras." He replied clearly eating something.
"Okay, please do!" You left the bathroom and reentered the ballroom doing your best to hide the fact that you were scanning the room for the suspect. L's voice came over the earpiece again, this time instructing you to look for a woman in an emerald green dress near the center of the room. You entered the crowd of guests. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the woman L had been talking about. She was in fact talking to Daniel Grant. They seemed to know each other. You stayed back, waiting for L to say something.
"Seems like you found them, stay back for a little while, I'll tell you when to approach" He said. You of course didn't respond since you were surrounded by others in earshot. You casually checked your pockets and approached another guest making small talk to kill time. You had taken your eyes off of him for a second, and the moment you looked back, the niece was talking to him. L seemed to notice as well.
"Daniel is currently talking to an important innocent. Please intervene now." You looked around the room before casually approaching the two.
"Hello, I came to wish you a happy birthday!" You said, sort of putting yourself between them. She nodded, thanking you and went back to talking with Daniel. You sighed in annoyance, but persisted.
"Hey, could you by any chance show me to the washroom? I've been looking for it and I just can't find it" You asked. She looked at Daniel, excusing herself from their conversation before leading you to said washroom.
"I'm sorry for inconveniencing you... Oh.. and I think it would be best if you stayed away from that man." She gave you a quizzical look.
"Why is that? He's one of my mother's friends." She asked. You were kind of shocked. Another detail L had left out. You questioned if he trusted you before ultimately banishing the thought. Of course he trusted you. You wouldn't be the one confronting the guy if he didn't.
"Just trust me, he's no good" You warned. It was clear that she didn't take your words seriously whatsoever. She scoffed and left. Now what? You wondered. And just like that, L's voice came through again.
"I want you to talk to him, try your best to get him away from her." Immediately you left the bathroom and made your way back to the ballroom again. By now, there were a few people dancing. Unfortunately Daniel seemed to be one of them, but you had a plan. Dance your way to him! You started off with a tall man with a purple tie, then to an average height lady in a light blue dress, then a lady with a fuchsia pink dress, and so on until finally, you were dancing with Daniel.
"You're the person who rudely interrupted my lovely conversation with the guest of honor" He observed. His voice was cold, though there was a tinge of intrigue.
"And what of it?" You sort of snapped. He smirked, it sent chills up your spine. You backed away slightly, but he closed the distance.
"Oooh, I like them feisty" He growled into your ear. You couldn't help your face twisting in disgust at that.
"Why don't we go... somewhere more private" He suggested. It was then that L's voice came on through your earpiece.
"Go with him, I want to see what he'll do" You gulped. You really didn't want to go anywhere with that creep. But L's orders... You nodded and Daniel led you upstairs. You both stood in front of a bedroom door. He opened it, directing you to go inside. As you did, his eyes seemed to undress you. It was then that he took out a dagger holding it to your neck.
Meanwhile, L sat in his temporary investigation headquarters observing your actions. He had just stuck a piece of cake in his mouth when you had been attacked. He had not expected Daniel to be armed. You were in grave danger and he knew it. He immediately stood up, the fork clattered to the ground and the plate the cake had been on shattered as it hit the floor. He didn't care.
"Y/N, hang in there, I'll be there soon" he quickly said to you before rushing to get Watari and speed off to the party. The car ride seemed to take forever. Every second of it, he watched and listened. Daniel seemed to be just threatening you for the time being, but at any second, he might just kill you. The very second they arrived, L clumsily jumped out of the car and rushed up the stairs to the manor, past the guards outside and up another flight of stairs to where you were.
L had for the first time in his life, brought a gun in case things got even more ugly, but he doubted he'd need it. Daniel didn't seem like the type to be bold enough to kill in front of another person. Even so, he gripped the gun before entering.
"Let them go!" L commanded. Daniel's head snapped in his direction.
"Get out, this is none of your business" Daniel said, turning back to you.
"It is my business, that happens to by my significant other you have there." You blinked. Significant other? Is he acting? You thought before mentally reprimanding yourself for thinking that now. L moved a little closer.
"Oh.... She is... I'm sorry" Daniel backed away. It was kind of comical how he looked like a scolded dog. You stood up and walked towards L, glancing back a few times at Daniel to ensure he wasn't going to get violent again. And without another word, L led you out of the manor to safety. Though there was one question burning in your chest. When you were safely in the car you decided to voice it.
"L... Do you actually like me?" L turned to you, his expression was completely unreadable.
"Yes" He said almost monotonously. But that was good enough for you.
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yikesharringrove · 3 years
Text
(( Soooo Pokemon AU? Idk if you’re a fan of Pokemon but given all the cool snippets and stuff you’ve written I figured I’d return the favour in a way and write this and submit it to you! I included some notes at the end! ))
– Unstable Genes –
Billy knew Steve would have a preppy, rich boy Pokemon. He just knew it. Granted he expected it to be something more powerful and less, cute.
The Eevee was always at Harrington’s side, matching brown doe-eyes observing the school. It didn’t shy from the larger Pokemon that approached it, nor did it act sickeningly sweet. It stood it’s ground, head held high, matching Steve’s general disinterest in the bustle of the school or the gossip around it. It was so weird to see such a small ball of fluff regard bigger, tougher Pokemon with such little concern. Billy didn’t know a lot about Eevees but he knew Steves was… off. For one thing, the aloofness. For another, it was (apparently) strong as fuck according to Tommy and half the school. Tommy in particular wouldn’t shut up about the battles the little Eevee had won, helping to secure old King Steve’s crown before he lost it. The other thing was that it hadn’t evolved, despite Steve apparently having it since he was ten.
Billy knew an Eevee’s DNA was extremely fucked. They evolved if you so much as looked at them funny. Buy some expensive stone and shove it in your Eevee’s face? it’ll evolve. Take them aboard to some fancy place and rub it on a stone in a specific place? It’ll evolve. Give it a ton of cake and pet it a bunch? It’ll evolve. It’s not hard to get those things if you can afford the Eevee in the first place. There were no wild Eevee’s anywhere; they were all from breeders and cost far more than anyone should pay for a Pokemon, so if you could afford the Eevee, you’d evolve it. If you weren’t keeping it for a pet.
It just made Billy all the more curious. Curious about the once King Steve and his un-evolved Eevee. And Klaus - his Luxio, the only Pokemon he had managed to keep from Cali - was equally curious. It wanted a decent fight. It saw the little Eevee, heard the stories, and licked it’s teeth, eyes gleaming. Klaus always looked for that Eevee, always trying to catch it’s gaze, caught between growling for it’s attention and purring, letting eelctricity crackle in it’s fur with every step. Billy couldn’t blame Klaus. He saw Steve and ached for the fight. To see his eyes focus on them and them alone, take charge of the battle, hear him issue commands to that Eevee. To get Steve’s skin under his fists, under his hands, to scratch, to grip, to grapple. To feel him sweat and bleed. To press him down with his body.
Then came the Night. Billy got to face King Steve, staring him down after being sent on a bullshit mission to find Max. He’d wanted this for so long but not like this. Not when it was backed up with the shit from his old man. Not when he saw Max peered from the window. Not when Steve fucking lied to his face about his sister being there with a bunch of weird boys. Klaus snarled, and Steve’s little Eevee puffed up, digging kitten claws into the earth.
It was criminal Billy couldn’t remember the fight that followed, thanks to the drugs Max had shot into him (that shit was crystal clear - the rest of the tape, the good shit, was covered in static and fuzz). He remembered throwing a punch. He remembered getting punched back. He remembered smashing a plate. He remembered feeling a pair of canines sink into his ankle as the little furball bit him, evading his attempts to kick it off. He remembered Klaus lunging, electricity crackling in his teeth as he lunged at the Eevee. And then, jackshit. But he saw the results of it the next day.
Steve was bruised, deep purple splotches darkening as his body worked to recover. On his pale skin they were beautiful, vivid proof that Billy had gotten his hands on King Steve and left a mark. Steve glanced over and for a moment, their eyes met. Billy didn’t look away. Steve didn’t either. Billy resisted the urge to lick his teeth. To make it another challenge. It was when his Luxio gave a deep, rumbling noise beside him, caught between a growl and a purr, that Billy turned, following his Luxio’s gaze to the Pokemon at Steve’s side. Billy wanted to punch something. Steve’s Eevee was no longer an Eevee. Steve’s Eevee had evolved, during or just after their fight, and he couldn’t remember it.
Billy didn’t know a lot about Eevee’s aside from them evolving at the drop of a hat. He didn’t know what it was, but it was not a preppy little furball anymore. It’s fur was sleek and black, with yellow rings on it’s legs and forehead, matched by bands around it’s ears and tail. The doe-like, black eyes were gone, replaced by knowing, red eyes. It looked directly at Billy. For an eternity, Billy stared at it as it watched him. The yellow rings glowed and dimmed in a hypnotic pulse rhythm. Yellow on black, like every caution and warning sign Billy had seen. Finally, it turned, following Steve down the hallway.
It didn’t take long to find a book on Eevees in the library, to find out what the hell Harrington’s Eevee had become. He found the page with a picture of the Pokemon, reading through it and freezing, ignoring the dirty look from the libraian as Klaus stood on his hind legs to look at the book, as if he could fucking read (Really, he was just staring at the picture).
“Umbreon, the Moonlight Pokemon. A well trained Eevee with a strong bond to it’s trainer can evolve into an Umbreon under the influence of the Moon.
A nocturnal hunter, it blends in with darkness by dimming the markings on it’s body. When excited and ready to strike, the markings shine brightly, startling it’s prey. It’s possible that it uses the glow of it’s markings to communicate with others… Not much is known about this Pokemon; Umbreons (and Espeons; see page 196) are unknown in the wild, and few trainers evolve their Eevees this way. Most cite that it is easier to evolve their Eevees through other means and train them appropriately according to how they evolve, rather than spend the time to attain these forms and then hone their training. Fewer still are willing donate their Pokemon for research on this elusive species…”
Billy looked down at Klaus, snapping the book shut. He knew Max had told him to stay away from her little weirdo friends. Which apparently included Steve. Which was still extremely fucking weird. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know what the fuck happened that night. Why Steve was there. What the fuck Max and those kids were doing. How Steve’s Eevee had evolved from some little bundle of fluff into a literal Pokemon of the night. “Klaus. We got some training to do.”
(( Steve’s Pokemon is an Eevee! It’s a rare Pokemon; in earlier games it couldn’t be found in the wild at all, and you’d only get one given to you. They can evolve into a total of eight different Pokemon, depending on what method you use, and each evolved Pokemon is a different type with different stats and abilities. So it’s very popular! It feels like the kind of thing Steve’s parents would give him and think “yep, we’re good parents, back to work/never being at home”. And given how listless Steve generally is, he wouldn’t have decided how to evolve it. Until it evolves in response to…well, the everything happening! Steve’s evolved into an Umbreon, a dark type, which has high defensive stats. Eevee evolves into Umbreon when it had a strong bond with it’s trainer and levels up at night-time - I feel like the events of Stranger Things would cause Steve to develop a very real bond with it and cause the evolution. And I can’t decide what he would name it or if it would be a boy or a girl (girls are much rarer than males - it’s like a 1/8 chance of obtaining a female Eevee).
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Billy’s Pokemon is a Luxio! It’s essentially a teenage lion, and an electric type. They’re not super rare but they look extremely rad and channel electricity into their claws/fangs when they attack! They also develop the ability to see through walls when their eyes gleam a golden colour, which they use to trakc prey or lost cubs of theirs… It evolves from a Shinx (a cub basically) and then evolves into a Luxray (the adult lion). It feels very Billy to me! I imagine he had another pokemon that was a water type/fish, so he had to leave them in the sea when he ended up going to Hawkins. I also took the name Klaus from the lead singer of the Scorpions cos I am not that good at coming up with names.
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God this ended up being massive, I completely understand if you don’t post this. I don’t really know how to sign this off cos this is literally my first contribution to the Harringrove fandom despite lurking for a while. But again, thank you for all the stuff you write! I hope that even if you don’t like Pokemon, this makes ya smile. I guess I should leave a name or something, URM
- that guy who made the stupidly long Pokemon AU submission
-
I LOVE pokemon this is so fucking good. I’ve definitely thought about Steve having an Eevee before, and I love it evolving That Night, especially into Umbreon, that’s so GOOD and POWERFUL. I also love the idea of Steve with Mimikyu for,,,, angst reasons. And I love Billy with Luxio. I totally see him with electric or fire types because he would really like the strength and energy those types bring. I’ve thought about him with Cubone (also for angst reasons), or even Growlithe/Arcanine mostly bc I’m more familiar with gen 1 and 2. Seriously, I love this SO MUCH and if you ever wanna write more 👀👀 I would LOVE to read it.
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kaibacorpintern · 3 years
Note
hi i forgot the ship name but would u write something thats seto and ryou? (platonic or romantic) where they play a ttrpg together or somethin idk
“or somethin idk” give me an inch, i have run a mile. a mile of 4.7k words.
platonic euroshipping. post-canon. ryou applies for a game writer position at kaibacorp and makes it to the final stage. contains: dragons, swords, some very sexy things about solidvision and the virtual world, kaiba covered in blood and having a great time, me the writer having a great time, hopefully you the reader having a great time, and ryou, not covered in blood, having a very, very, very anxious time
tw for some fantasy violence
++++++
Ryou inhaled, taking a deep breath of: the fresh, sweet smell of grass, the coolness of river water, something dry and grey in the wind, slightly rotten - smoke? And sulfur. The grasses were filled with the restless susurrus of the wind, each blade quivering with anticipation. Above him, a hawk tilted in lazy, wide circles, tracking the hidden paths of its prey. He stood on a dusty path halfway up the long slope of a steep hillside, the farmlands of the valley behind him peeled back to reveal the burned, blackened devastation beneath. The village from this distance looked like the charcoal remains of a bonfire, the air still shimmering with heat. 
The sun itself was hot, making him sweat in the thick, coarse silk of his mage’s robe, every purple thread saturated with light and heat. Mopping sweat from his brow, Ryou opened his options menu, the holographic display falling open, in the guise of an illuminated manuscript, and hovering at waist-height in thin air, perfectly tilted for reading. The parchment was old and yellowed, almost velvet to the touch, the edges frayed with age, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smell it, leaning in cautiously to take an experimental whiff. Strong notes of dust, old ink, age; an undertone of knowledge, of the forbidden kind. 
He selected Player Appearance and the page turned, with weight and heft, to reveal another. Kaiba didn’t miss a beat. Ryou had no doubt if he knelt down to drink from the stream that flowed down the slope, folding in clear ribbons past the rocks, the water would run cold over his fingers until they pruned. And the magic effects?
He swallowed. It was not just the sun that was making him sweat.
He’d just changed into something more practical - a short-sleeved green tunic, a pair of white breeches, leather boots that had just a bit of bite to the fit, like the player had to wear them in - when a chime pealed out from six feet away, as though someone had rung an invisible bell. The air tore apart, in odd, geometric anguish, like a broken mirror twisting into itself - 
and there was Kaiba, standing in the knee-high grass in his customary black turtleneck and tight pants, frowning with his arms crossed.
“Hello,” Ryou said. “It’s so nice to see you again. Your technology is... this is amazing. The attention to detail is incredible. The player screen, with the parchment - it even smells like - ”
“What is this? Medieval?” Kaiba said, glancing around at his clothes, the distant village, taking no notice of his praise; Ryou bit his tongue in self-rebuke. As if buttering him up with compliments was going to help. 
“Western Europe. From the mid-11th century to the 12th. The age of knights and chivalry,” he said, deciding that maybe his best strategy was to simply be straightforward.
“I’m familiar with basic history, thank you. How... classic,” Kaiba said, in a tone that screamed disinterest, and Ryou’s heart began to plummet - already starting from behind? No, no, no, he reminded himself, straightening the slouch out of his shoulders. Yuugi had warned him about this. Kaiba was fantastically tough to impress, in general, and the Virtual World was his world, a realm he'd built with sweat and tears, and stolen back with blood. So he hand-picked every writer that wrote for Virtual World games, refusing to squander a single pixel on conventional nonsense and uninspired cliché. 
The last step - before he brought the axe down - was a short, playable demo, as proof of concept, written by the applicant and executed by the Virtual World team.
Ryou had come this far in the application process. Trust that, Yuugi said. And trust yourself.
Kaiba was looking at him, eyebrows arched with expectant curiosity.
“Er,” Ryou said. “Let’s get started, then. You’ll need to change.”
He pulled up the menu, revelling in the hovering parchment once more, and changed Kaiba’s appearance, like - like magic, the lines of Kaiba’s silhouette rippling like a sine wave from the bottom up, his modern-day clothing becoming a knee-length tunic of chainmail under a belted dark blue surcoat. Kaiba held still throughout the entire transformation, in smug admiration of the effect, his arms held out in a ballet dancer’s pose as chainmail draped down his shoulders to his wrists. 
In his right hand appeared, with a sharp, diamond flash of light, a long arming sword, the edge nicked with age and bloodspill. The hilt was black, with a sapphire gleaming in the pommel. A plain shield dropped onto his left forearm. 
He gave the sword an experimental spin, testing the heft with practiced ease, and slid it back into the leather scabbard on his belt.
“A knight, the charred, smoking remains of a village… I’m assuming I’m on a quest to kill a dragon?” he said, pushing back the hood of the chainmail so that it draped off his shoulders, and nodding up the slope to where the grasses tattered into rocky shale. 
“Yes, you can assume that,” Ryou said politely.
On cue, a child no more than twelve years old staggered up the dusty path from the village, her small torso heaving with breath, sweat and tears running in clean streaks down her soot-stained face. 
“Sir Knight,” she choked out. Flashing a look at Ryou that said cheap blow, but unable to deny his own fraternal instinct, Kaiba dropped to one knee and caught her, his hands swallowing her thin, shuddering shoulders. Playing along, at least.
“Calm down,” he said, steadying her. Ryou imagined his anxiety as a small, hard rock, packing in the twist of every fraying nerve, and leaned all his weight onto one foot, grinding the rock into the dirt with his heel. "What is it?”
“They sent me to warn you, about the dragon,” she panted. “They said only the Chosen One can truly defeat the dragon, and bring peace back to the land. Many have tried. All suffered the same terrible fate - a fate worse than death.”
“I see,” Kaiba said. “And who is the Chosen One?”
The girl glanced at Ryou over Kaiba’s shoulder, her eyes glinting with fear. 
“No - no one knows,” she said. “But all the oracles say they’re coming… a knight with a pure and worthy heart. Sir Knight, don’t go. Come back to the village. It’s safe there. What do you gain from this? Our humble lands aren’t worth the danger!”
“I think they are,” Kaiba said, thumbing soot off her face, and frowning as her cheek pixelated, briefly, and resumed a skin-like texture. "Open master commands, user ID 000002510. Initiate master log. Begin recording: skin-to-skin contact glitch reappeared during writer play-test, candidate Bakura, R. Begin patch work immediately. End recording. Disperse to Virtual World team, flag Sawada, project manager. Close master commands. Did you know, one of the most compelling unsolved problems in physics is the lack of a theory that realizes both general relativity and quantum mechanics?”
The girl gave him a wary look, wide-eyed with faint alarm. Ryou sucked in a breath, grinding the anxiety rock down, down, down.
“You - you speak in tongues, Sir Knight," she said. "Are you also an oracle? Has your future-sight failed you? Don’t you see that only death lives on the mountain?”
Kaiba snorted and stood up, turning to Ryou. “A solid response to non-standard player input. Doesn’t ignore modern concepts, but re-contextualizes them in the setting of this world via a framework of prophecy, and redirects the player to the plot.” 
“Um... thank you?” Ryou said. “I wanted this world to feel like it has a future, too, not just a history. I wanted to place it on a timeline, like it - ”
Kaiba’s attention swung back to the girl, still standing there with her eyes darting between them, full of bafflement. 
“Return to the village, girl. Tell them my future-sight never fails me.”
The girl retreated backwards, warily, twisted on her heel, and fled down the path.
"If I go down to the village, what'll I find?" Kaiba said.
"More information about the Chosen One, and an outlaw who tries to recruit you to her band of thieves, with the option to join them for a stealth-based quest.”
"Hm. You have the imagination and the decency to offer me something other than blatant bait, which I don't always bite. The cliché of the Chosen One is boring as hell, it’s both over-done and deterministic, but I think... yes. Yes, I'll bite. Let's go see your dragon."
In the wake of this... compliment?, Ryou could only offer him a small, tentative smile, his heart clenching tight around Yuugi's advice. 
Kaiba started up the path. 
“Er, Kaiba - you might want to check your inventory before you encounter the dragon."
Kaiba’s hand padded around his waist until he found the small satchel that sat on his hip. Another parchment unfurled in the air before him, listing its contents:
Two full healing spells;
Two glamour spells, for changing the guise of a person or object;
Two transformation spells, for changing a person or an object into an animal;
Two scrying spells, for locating people or objects;
Two ignis spells, for commanding fire;
Two aqua spells, for commanding water; and
Two ventus spells, for commanding wind.
Ryou watched him as he read. He'd carved a small, thick groove into the dirt below his foot. Surely, that was enough for Kaiba to get creative?
Kaiba only closed the parchment with a brisk flick of his hand. Then he started up the mountain, Ryou following nervously behind.
***
The mountain path was rougher than Ryou expected, a tightly-coiled spring of switchbacks, leading to the curved lip of a high pass. After several minutes of trudging the dust in silence, he was panting for breath, his feet aching and blistering in their boots, and deeply regretting adding this little detail to the story. Next time, he was just going to put the dragon on a rolling, grassy plain, and he’d make it like an American autumn corn maze, because it still needed to be a challenge, and when the players got to the center they’d find the dragon’s decaying, rotting corpse and realize they’d been stuck inside the maze for five hundred years and everyone they loved was dead, and if they wanted to go back to their own time they’d have to find out how to resurrect the dragon, but only at a terrible cost, a sacrifice of some kind... Not his best off-the-cuff work, but there were usable concepts in there, somewhere. If there was a next time.
Despite being laden down with the chainmail, each tiny link flashing like fish scales in the airy slanting of the afternoon sun, Kaiba seemed unaffected by the demands of the hike, propelling himself forward with long, energetic strides. How?
Ryou thought about asking for a break. Or drinking water from the stream. Or changing his boots for something comfier, but he didn't have anything else in his outfit inventory except the mage robes, and the slippers might be even worse… he stopped, hands on his hips, gathering his breath.
From here the valley sprawled below them, a wide, velvety plain, its edges rising and scalloped by mountains. The village fit in the circle of his thumb and forefinger, a smoking black thumbprint. The team had done a fantastic job: the stream ran down the mountain, flattened into a river, and ran south, lazy and serpentine, a green-blue ribbon cutting through the yellow plains, just like he’d outlined in his initial description of the world….
Wait. 
This was all virtual. 
There was no such thing as air, here, or rivers or sunshine or grasses.
His real, physical body was half-asleep in a Virtual World testing pod on the 17th floor of the Kaiba Corp Tower, and his body here was just a series of algorithms, and if he didn’t want to sweat, he didn’t have to fucking sweat! Thank God!
Up ahead, Kaiba noted the absence of his footfalls and turned around, one hand resting easily on his sword hilt. From his position on the path, he looked down at Ryou from several feet up, which doubled the intimidation of his already formidable bearing.
“I’m fine,” Ryou said. “Just... admiring the view.”
“Are you having your Matrix moment? That’s what my programmers call it,” Kaiba said.
Ryou laughed. “I think so. I was tired but I don't feel it at all, anymore. Like all the fatigue's just melted away and I could run a marathon.”
“Is that something you enjoy?”
“Oh, no. I hate sports.”
Kaiba snorted.
“So, tell me. Why do you want this job?” he said. “At my company? Writing stories with my technology?”
“Er - ” Blindsided by the swerve in topics, Ryou tripped over his thoughts. Surely he must’ve read his application? Maybe he didn’t have the time. Stick to straightforward. “I’m sure you remember my performance in Battle City?”
“Yes, I remember,” Kaiba said, which was honestly more than Ryou expected of him.
“Well, I don’t play much Duel Monsters anymore,” he said, “but I still.. every once in a while, I turn my Duel Disk on and play a few cards, just to see my monsters come out, see them breathe… you know I run a Zombie deck, full of demons and dead things, but SolidVision makes them feel so - so alive. You took these fantasy monsters that exist only in our heads and put them in our world.”
“Virtual World game writers don’t work on SolidVision products,” Kaiba countered.
“Right, I know that. To me, Virtual World and SolidVision are the inverse of each other, or opposites that contain each other, like, like yin and yang - with SolidVision, the unreal enters the real, and becomes real. In the Virtual World, the real - ” Ryou motioned to himself - “enters the unreal, and becomes unreal. We like to put walls between imagination and reality, you know, taxes are real and unicorns aren’t, but with SolidVision and Virtual World, there is no wall. That’s the world I want to write stories for.”
“Hm,” Kaiba said, the corner of his mouth curving up in a smile. “Interesting take.”
And he waited, saying nothing more, until Ryou realized he was waiting for him; and trotted lightly up the path to join him.
*** 
By the time they reached the top of the mountain pass, the air had turned a clear, dusky gold. The mountains cast long, black shadows across the valley, like dark teeth, chewing up the farmlands. The mountain pass was saddle-shaped, one side sloping down into the valley they’d just come from, the other flattening into a smaller, higher bowl, cupping a pale blue-green lake between its rocky palms.
Kaiba scrambled onto the nearest large rock, his head swinging as he scanned the lake valley. Ryou wrapped one arm around his waist and bit his thumb. They had found a deep, penetrating quiet, the kind of wilderness quiet that was devoid of texture of any kind; no bugs or burbling streams or bird song. It was not even like holding your breath, waiting, because that implied a coming moment of exhale, a sigh of relief. This was a perfect stillness. 
And hidden somewhere inside it was a dragon. 
Ryou bit harder, until he remembered the pain was fake and did nothing, and he had to come up with something else to temper his anxiety, which was definitely, definitely real.
Kaiba's gonna flip his shit when he sees your dragon, Yuugi said, from the back of Ryou's mind, Ryou's demo manuscript in hand. In a good way or a bad way? Is it too derivative? What does it matter that he'll flip his shit for my dragon when he flips his shit for ANY dragon? He's a slut for dragons. Oh my god, you can't say that! Yuugi, please, help - nope. You got this. You know what you're doing.
Even the metallic shing of Kaiba’s sword coming out of its sheath seemed small, in an unnatural way, a pointless, petty defiance. 
A shadow fell across the lake valley. 
Both of them looked up -
and an enormous dragon hurtled out of the sky, landing with thundering force on all four clawed feet, flattening trees and boulders beneath its reptilian bulk. Ryou staggered backwards and fell, in an awkward, clumsy crab pose; Kaiba threw his shield over his face and dug in, undaunted.
"HAVE YOU COME TO KILL ME?" the dragon boomed. “MISERABLE WRETCH?”
Kaiba lowered his shield, just enough for his first full look at the dragon. From his spot, crumpled on the ground, Ryou saw, in the shadow below the shield, another slender smile. The dragon’s hide was a dark, luxurious blue-black, mottled like snakeskin but textured with the heavy crags and knobs of crocodiles. It lowered its head on its long, arching neck, gracefully bearing the weight of two massive, curving horns, and stared down at them with fathomless acid-green eyes.
Even Ryou, who had designed it, sat enthralled: every movement it made - the eager flick of its tail, the claws, curling into the dirt, glinting under a layer of blood and grime, the shuddering of its leathery wings as they folded into its long body - hinted at indomitable power. It was a true creature of legend, a titan from the youngest days of the world, demanding both reverence and terror.
“I have!” Kaiba replied blithely, despite announcing it in a ringing voice.
“ONLY THE CHOSEN ONE CAN DEFEAT ME,” the dragon said. “YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF SUCH A FEAT. I SEE YOUR HEART, BLACKGUARD KNIGHT. I CAN TASTE THE BLOOD YOU’VE SPILLED WITH YOUR SWORD, BRIGHT AND PUNGENT. I CAN HEAR THE CRIES OF ALL THE LIVES YOU’VE LET EBB INTO THE DIRT AT YOUR FEET!”
“I’m here to avenge the village!” Kaiba shouted. 
“YOU COME UP HERE TO DEFEND SOME PATHETIC SCRAPS OF BRICK AND WOOD, THINKING YOU CAN KILL ME, AND CALL THAT HONOR? REDEMPTION? YOU CALL THAT COURAGE? ITS TRUE NAME IS VANITY! EMPTY AND FALSE! IT WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN BEFORE I DO!” the dragon boomed again. “LEAVE. I WAS ONCE NAIVE AND VAIN LIKE YOU. COME BACK WHEN YOU ARE MORE THAN A MERE WORM, OR ELSE SUFFER MY FATE!”
Ryou had clambered to his feet and bolted for the safety of a low ridge, which gave him a perfect view of Kaiba, head held high and proud as he gazed unflinching at the dragon, several hundred times his size. He’d written those words in his notebook on the metro, leaning his head against the cool midnight glass, pausing every other line to ferret out another piece of sour candy from his bag. Then he’d missed his stop. That trundling, light-washed world of a train car seemed impossibly distant now - a rapidly fading dream, to be remembered only in flashes and silence. To hear the words come out of the smoking jaws of this dragon, each syllable flowing in a delicious, indulgent baritone from its shining teeth, filled him with a breathless exhilaration, his heart hammering in his throat - this was real!
“Only one of us is suffering fate today!” Kaiba shouted back, a laugh in his voice, and then threw a glance at Ryou. “‘Suffer my fate?’ Is that a typo?”
“VERY WELL. COME KILL ME! THERE IS PEACE IN DEATH, AND ONLY ONE OF US CAN CLAIM IT!”
“I - watch out!” Ryou yelled, as the dragon lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut on the empty air where Kaiba had been standing half a second before. Kaiba threw himself out of the way, a nimble tuck and roll, and scrabbled across the shale towards higher ground. Behind him, the dragon swung its massive head, nostrils red and flaring, mouth curled up in a savage draconic grin, glinting with the promise of violence. 
No sooner had Kaiba flung himself behind a scattering of boulders, shield raised, than it unleashed a jet of fire so hot and scorching the boulders glowed red, their rough faces melting in sheets. Ryou felt the heat wash across his face, from several dozen yards away. 
The fire died out. The dragon snorted in satisfaction, horse-like, a loud, wet huff of smoke. The boulders sizzled as they cooled into their new, bizarrely dripping forms.
Kaiba emerged from behind a boulder, sweating and singed, his face streaked with ash and his eyes shining. He tossed the warped, melted wreckage of his shield aside, where it bounced and clattered against the rocks.
“SO YOU STILL LIVE? A MISTAKE. WHAT COMES NEXT WILL HURT WORSE!”
“For you!” Kaiba hurled back, and threw his hand into the air, a gesture Ryou had seen countless times on a duel field - a lightning rod, a summoning. “VENTUS!” 
The wind picked up, in a giddy, howling whirl, bringing with it a cloud of dust that descended gritty and blinding and pale across the valley. Kaiba and the dragon vanished from sight inside it. Mentally Ryou subtracted one spell from Kaiba’s satchel.
“THIS WON’T HELP Y - ” Cut off by a wet chop and an ear-splitting draconic scream, a raw, awful sound, torn out of an unwilling throat. Just below it, a glorious, cascading laugh. “WRETCH! WORM!”
The dust settled, revealing glistening, dark-green blood splattered across the rocks, and a single severed claw, its flesh still twitching. The dragon seethed, its wounded foot curled in agony. Kaiba was clear across the other side of the pass, by the dragon’s tail, grinning open-mouthed as he panted for breath. His chainmail and surcoat dripped with dragon blood; his hair was thick with it. 
“COME GET YOUR PEACE, DRAGON!” he bellowed, and the dragon slung its head around, tail coiling in an ominous whip. 
Again Kaiba lifted his hand, shouted “VENTUS - !”
And a second dust cloud barreled into the valley, as the dragon roared back, “THAT WON’T WORK AGAIN!”
It whipped its tail through the dust cloud, a scythe-like sweep - smacking something hard into the rocks with a thick, fleshy crunch of bone that made Ryou’s insides clench tight with terrified sympathy.
The dragon whirled around, clearing the dust with several storm-gathering wingbeats.
This was not real. This was just pixels, neatly arranged and running in rivers of algorithms - just a clever series of ones and zeroes - and yet Ryou gasped, the dragon laughing, at the sight of Kaiba lying in a crumpled, motionless heap in the rocks. He hadn’t considered Kaiba might actually fail to kill the dragon - all thoughts of jobs and game-writing abandoned - unreality aside, the mind had a way of making it real - what the fuck happened if Kaiba died?
“IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE, WORM?” the dragon said, nudging Kaiba’s limp body with its claws, rolling him over. His head lolled, his body twisted into a horrifying, broken-boned slouch. How on earth was Ryou going to explain this to Yuugi? Hell. “I TOLD YOU, YOU'RE NOT W - ”
Ryou almost didn’t see it - a hawk in a dive, arrow-straight, from the top of the sky, diving through a blinding flash of light several stories up - and out of the light came Kaiba, alive and whole, plummeting towards the dragon’s head, gripping his sword with both hands - plunging it straight through the top of the dragon’s skull. 
He left the sword hilt-deep in dragon flesh as he pitched forward with the force of impact, rolling over the dragon’s brow, flailing to catch himself - on the massive horn. Clinging, victorious, as the great dragon swayed, its green eyes filming, and finally slumped, in agonized slow motion, to the earth, body first, head last, with a thundering, bone-rattling crash. 
It released one last, rattling breath, the trees shuddering in the fetid breeze.
The valley descended into stillness once more. 
Ryou sat down on his low escarpment with a limp thump, burying his face in both hands. This was just a Virtual World, where at one point everything would power down and they’d wake up safe and sound in the squishy, air-conditioned comfort of a pod, and he had, after all, planned on Kaiba killing the dragon, but Kaiba’s sheer nerve seemed beyond that. Yuugi was right. The guy was, maybe, a little nuts. Completely off his rocker.
“Ryou,” Kaiba said, above him, and Ryou lifted his head. Kaiba rested the sword jauntily across his shoulder, the rest of him filthy with dragon blood and human blood and dirt. “I have to say, I enjoyed your dragon. A shame it had to die.”
“Your strategy... You used a glamour spell? On a... rock? To make it look like your dead body,” Ryou said. “And then a transformation spell.”
“Correct. Is that all for your demo?” Kaiba said, cocking an eyebrow, both bloody and disdainful, and Ryou swallowed. “I was hoping for more of a cha - ”
His words stopped hard in his throat, a harsh, hacking sound. His free hand flew to his neck, mouth dropping open in pain and confusion, eyes widening. He coughed - or tried to, achieving nothing more than a thin, ugly retching, his face going white - and Ryou watched, in fascinated horror, as his gamble began to play out. There was nothing he could do to help; he’d written it that way.
The sword clattered to the stones, green blood dripping off the shining edge, as Kaiba staggered sideways, gasping for breath, both hands on his neck - what was the algorithm doing to him? Ryou had only written ‘a suffocating, squirming pain, concentrated in the lungs,’ and resolved to think more carefully about what types of pain he might inflict on the player characters, if the gamble paid off... But how interesting to know even the creator of the Virtual World himself suspended his disbelief - his knowledge of the truth - sometimes, and indulged in pain...
He collapsed to his knees, stretching one hand out, fisting it around Ryou’s collar and dragging him closer - 
“What - ” he choked out, eyes glaring into Ryou’s, in baffled, furious agony - terrified - they rolled backwards, the blue sliding away to white, as he slumped over himself. 
His hand went slack and fell. What life remained slipped away in a low, shaking sigh.
Ryou took him by the shoulders and gently lay him down, passing a hand over his eyes to close them. Dead, but not really.
“Just hold on a moment,” he said. The body had been vacated. The soul - the player - was awakening elsewhere.
He waited a few moments, absorbing the stillness, the detail on the leaves of the pine trees; the way the lake water shimmered in golden flecks with late afternoon light. It was maybe his last few seconds to enjoy the world he’d written, rendered in full splendor by the magic of technology, and he’d banished his anxiety from both his mind and body, to live out its exile in the real world. It didn’t belong here.
The great dragon body began to stir, drowsily, waking up from a deep, deep sleep. The deepest sleep.
Ryou stood up and slid down the escarpment to the dragon, pebbles and dust avalanching around his feet. The stab wound in its skull was knitting back together; the severed claw was crawling back to its slow-bleeding joint. There was an agonized hiss, forced through the dragon’s tightly-clenched teeth, and a vibrating groan, deep in its chest, as it gathered itself out of death.
Its eyes opened, in wary slits - not the bright, acid green, but a stunning, oceanic blue.
“OW. FUCK,” it growled, in Kaiba’s voice, magnified and twice as resonant. “OPEN MASTER COMMANDS, USER ID 000002510. SUSPEND ALL PAIN ALGORITHMS. CLOSE MASTER COMMANDS.”
He rolled upright, flexing his wings with experimental care. He arched his neck, looking down at Ryou.
“YOU TURNED ME INTO A DRAGON.”
“Yes,” Ryou said cautiously.
“NO ONE HAS EVER TURNED ME INTO A DRAGON BEFORE,” Kaiba said. ”SO I WASN’T WORTHY? IS THIS WHAT IT MEANS TO SUFFER THE DRAGON’S FATE? EVERYONE WHO KILLS THE DRAGON BECOMES THE DRAGON, AND ONLY THE CHOSEN ONE BREAKS THE CYCLE. IS THAT HOW IT GOES?”
“That’s how it goes.”
“HOW DO I FIND THE CHOSEN ONE?”
“You choose them,” Ryou said. “You decide what makes them worthy.”
"SO ANYONE CAN BE THE CHOSEN ONE? ANYONE CAN BREAK MY CURSE?"
"That's right."
Kaiba pondered that for a moment, flexing his claws idly in the dirt, the massive slabs of muscle in his shoulders shifting as he tested the strength and fit of his new draconic body. His gaze drifted out over the lower valley, eyes clouding briefly with memories of another story, another game, another man; one who had always seemed real and unreal, all at once, no matter what world he lived in. Ryou had heard it all from Yuugi.
Then Kaiba looked at him and started to laugh, a sound that echoed and rebounded across the small lake valley, the water shivering as each delighted peal of laughter rolled across. Ryou blushed as it buffeted him from all sides.
“IS THAT SO,” Kaiba said, with dry relish. “YOU’RE HIRED.”
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bozowrites · 3 years
Note
I kinda pictured the 2nd part to have her be out and about with dabi doing things for the league and hitoshi sees a glimpse of her and he goes crazy for the rest of the day until he found out that he wasnt the only one seeing glimpses of her. Somehow they get her back and then it could end in a really sad loving fluffy reunion between everyone and then have hitoshi show her how much he truly loves her and have him make love to her 👉👈 idk i really suck at imagines/stories
Things Change
Imagine (PART 2)
↳ Part 2 to Things Change
Pairing: Shinso Hitoshi × Fem!Reader
TW: Angst...
Word count: 1.3k
A/n: *deep inhale* AHHHHHHHHH. i tried so flipping hard! but fuuuuudge i suck at good endings :( im so sorry :((((( its now....sad again. i am the worst lmao
Part 1 / Part 2
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“Dabi?” The woman grinned, “Do you think this is my colour?” The man stared at her stoically. “We’re here for supplies, not clothes.”
“Awe, Baby, you’re no fun!” She frowned, wiggling herself into his arms and pleading for his attention. He sighed. “I prefer you with nothing, but yes, purple does suit you.”
L/n looked away, the words he said hitting her. “purple does suit you.” She moved away from him and tucked the revealing purple dress into her bag, ready to steal it. Just like the rest of the supplies they had.
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Shinso chuckled over the small joke Midoriya made, quick to hide his face from him. His eyes wandered over to the woman jumping around another male. She had this large smile on her face, the hood covering her face still revealed the beauty and similarity to his past lover. His heart panged and ached. Even after these last three years, it still hurt. He let his eyes linger before settling back on Midoriya.
“Hey, can we visit the pet store?”
“You’re not getting another cat, Toshi.”
“I need food for them. But a new kitten does sound nice. I was thinking the name Pekoe, what do you think?”
“No.”
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Shinso grinned at the kittens mewling at him. The orange tabby in the corner stared at him straight on, not blinking or moving a muscle. Shinso did the same, glaring ever so slightly, challenging it. “This one, I want this one.” Shinso muttered, not breaking eye contact with the four-legged creature. “No.” Shinso frowned over to Midoriya, giving the best kitty-eyes he could muster. “Please?”
“No. Now, let’s go back to the dorms, we got the cat food and groceries. Oh! Actually, I wanted to visit the new pro-hero merch store. Can we?”
“No.”
“What? Why? We visited your store.”
“Cause you already have enough merchandise.”
“And you have enough cats.”
“You can never have too many cats.”
“And you can never have too much merch!”
“Izuku?”
“Hitoshi.”
“You’re an—” his words cut short. He watched the same woman pass by the store window, hood down. The same hair, only longer. She had the same figure, and the same walk with only a slighter more slouch. He held his breath as he watched her walk by with another man, his hood up and face hidden. It couldn’t be her. It was impossible. She died. He watched her die.
“Hitoshi!” Shinso jumped and let out a quiet startled cry. “Oh, um, sorry. Uh, let’s go to that new store, or . . . whatever.” Midoriya stared at the purplette that walked away from him and to the cashier. His whole aura had shifted. They were in a playful argument, but it ended oddly. Midoriya brought his eyes over to the window Shinso previously stared at. There was nothing, only the occasional passerby. Perhaps he saw someone familiar? Or a hero?
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“Yo, guys! I’m going out for a bit!” No one payed any mind to the woman as she left the building. No one ever did. She stepped out on the sidewalk, pulling up her hood to conceal her face a bit, a face mask on her too.
“Damn assholes.”
Years ago, she found herself wandering into the dark side. She let it corrupt her, almost all of her. Key word: almost. Her mind always found its way to think about the man she left for this life; Shinso Hitoshi. He loved her, she knew he did, and she loved him, of course she did. All she wanted was him, his cuddles, his laugh, his beautiful face, and that faint scent of cat.
She only helped from the sidelines with the LoV, they didn’t want her to be completely involved. She thought it was because they didn’t fully trust her, but they always said it was because she was “dead”. If someone ever saw her, she could merely say she was a lookalike. It was dumb reason.
“I knew it was you.” She halts in her steps, looking up to see the very man she was thinking of. “I’m sorry? Do I know you?” She plays it out, like the others always told her to do if someone recognized her. But . . . she never thought that person would be the person who knows her like the back of his hand.
“Don’t do this. Please, for the love of Gods, don’t do this.” His voice is anguished. “You left me. You left everything!” L/n bites her lip, holding in tears that threaten to fall. “Why?” She stayed silent, not wanting to break. “TELL ME WHY!”
“BECAUSE I WAS SCARED!” She finally broke. Her hands, in fists, shook at her side as she shouted at him. It was so fast. He just saw her and, yet, they started immediately yelling at each other. The two had stayed silent after her burst. He stood far from her, around six feet (as you should be doing too), and grumbled under his breath. Her feet walked backwards slowly, very slowly, to get away, hopefully, from him.
“Y/n?” she didn’t answer. He might use his quirk on her, and she was surprised he hadn’t yet. He could turn her into the police. He could get all of the information he needed from her to destroy the LoV, yet, he hasn’t.
“Y/n,” his voice quivered. She didn’t look up to see that he was crying. She didn’t have to. “I miss you so damn much. I blamed myself. I thought it was my fault you died, I could have been better, that it was my fault we weren’t going to grow old together, but, no, it’s your fault. You left me. You left your parents. You left everything behind. Because you were scared.”
She also began to cry. How could she not? “Yes, I did. I know I did. I know what I left. And I miss—”
“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence!” the streets were completely bare, no person in sight as they fought. It was a dark alley in the middle of night, of course no one was near!
“Toshi—”
“Don’t call me that. You lost that privilege the moment you gave yourself to the League of Villains.”
She stayed silent again. Their breaths mingle in the newly winter’s air. She heard his steps coming closer, causing her breath to catch in her throat. What’s he doing? She brought her hands closer to her chest, trembling under his obvious gaze.
“Look at me.” He demanded. She did as asked: looked up to meet his angry stare. He brought his hands to her cheeks, something she hadn’t felt in forever. His hands were cold to the touch, but the feeling was warm. “Just . . . don’t say anything.”
She found his lips on hers. It was sloppy and wet, but so needed for the both of them. They held on to each other desperately. She could feel the coldness of the air nipping at her hands. She could fell the same fluffy, softness of his hair it always had. Saliva dripped from the corner of their mouths. She pulled at his hair, earning a pleasured groan. His hands are traveling down her body, landing on her hips and squeezing the flesh.
He pulls away from her, hands still on her hips as he keeps his head down to avoid her eyes.  She smiles, missing the feeling that she just had.
“I—”
“Go.”
“What?”
“Go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go. Before I change my mind!”
She shakes. He refused to meet her eyes, his arms hugging himself. She cried, but obeyed his ask and ran away from the alley. She ran fast, the opposite of the LoV headquarters, just in case.
Why did she go to the dark side again?
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TAGLIST (aka those who commented): 
@sillypersonobservation
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graceslavenderhaze · 3 years
Text
dance denial {connor stevens}
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you have a flirty and playful relationship, when the week of the glow dance rolls around she gets the courage to ask him but is sidelined by a supernatural disturbance.
also the gif belongs the @lovethephantoms idk why it doesn’t say it doesn’t have their handle under this. ( if they see this, omg hi i love you.)
requested fem!reader but it's not a main focus of the imagine.
trigger warnings: talks of bad crushes and boyfriends but nothing explicit, cursing ( not safe for Ramadan.)
It took a lot for you to come to terms with your feelings about Connor. You knew you had feelings for him, you just hadn't decided if those feelings were positive or negative in the long term. Your friends were tired of you dancing around your feelings, they just wanted you both to be happy. They didn't care if that meant you two dating or just having a friendship with flirtatious tension.
You had made up your mind on asking him to the dance on Monday night. After having a two hour long facetime with Gabby and Hanna they'd convinced you their was literally no reason as to why he would say no. So when Tuesday morning rolled around you were dead set on asking him. But he wasn't there. Then possibly one of the weirdest and scariest weeks of your life started taking place, so asking Connor to the dance was sidelined ultimately.
Then everything was reset. The shadowman was gone. Connor was back, and it was Friday night again. You had another opportunity to ask him but pushed it away. You'd already asked him, or his possessed state? It wasn't worth the possible humiliation.
"He rejected me once, I can't deal with that confrontation again." You said to Hanna as you got ready together. Gabby on facetime getting ready with you guys in spirit but her mom promised her she could drive so she opted to get ready at home. "Ok in the past twenty four you've battled a shadow demon." Gabby said as she stopped applying her highlighter to give you a dead stare over the phone for dramatic flare before continuing. " You can ask him to the glow dance."
"Seriously, you saved his life. He owes you a dance date at least." Hanna said as she began doing her hair. You shook your head, "He doesn't owe me anything. I would've done it for any of you." You said as you applied eyeliner.
"Yeah but for Connor just a smidge more." Gabby giggled over the phone, you rolled your eyes. "It's okay, you have a crush." Hanna said turning her attention to you, "Not the end of the world, literally everyone on the face of the earth has had them."
"It's not a crush!" You exclaimed, you hadn't had the best track record with crushes. Therefore you refused to even put Connor in that category. It seemed like every time you'd get close to someone, they'd hurt you and leave. You didn't want that with Connor. Even if you denied your own feelings, your walls were so high that you didn't notice them start to crack and grow flowers around your best friend.
"Is this about hewhoshallnotbenamed?" Gabby didn't have to ask that, it was a dead give away. Your ex had hurt you really bad. He was the first boy you dated in freshman year and slowly but surely he broke your heart with a sledge hammer.
"We all know my track record is shit, Connors just." You didn't even know how to explain it. "I chase people away. I don't know if feelings are worth losing him." You'd put your eyeliner down at this point. "Fuck that!" Gabby said before covering her mouth and checking to see if her mom was home yet. "Sorry but, you almost lost him this week isn't that more the reason to tell him?"
"When I first showed up in the dark the first thing he asked about was if you were okay." Hanna added, "If he didn't like you why would he have gone through such lengths to protect you this whole time?" It was true, since he got out of the light house he hadn't taken his sight off of you or let you get out of arms reach. Was the only thing stopping you, your own paranoia?
You'd finished getting ready with Hanna about half an hour ago. She went home so her moms could take pictures before she showed up at the dance and Gabby hung up not so much before hand. You stayed cleaning in your room so when you got home it wasn't a total disaster.
Your parents weren't back from work yet so you were enjoying blasting your music before going to the generic recycled playlists the school constantly played at the dances. Then your doorbell being rung distracted you. "Got it!" You yelled rushing towards the door incase it was a mail carrier or something like that.
Opening the door you saw Connor, his usual dark and distressed clothing tossed aside wearing something more fitting for the glow dance. "Hey!" He said walking in as you closed the door behind him. "Hey, I thought we were all meeting at the dance?" You asked, it had been mutually decided in the group chat. After Gabby's mom agreed she could drive there, Hanna's moms wanted pictures, and other personal conflicts that had presented that meeting up individually would be the best idea.
"We still are, I just thought that I should pick you up." He said as the two of you made your way back to your bedroom. "Why would you pick me up?" You asked as continued to clean your room while Connor jumped onto your bed. "Cause we're us, y'know." He said taking sudden interests in your squishmallows.
You stopped in your tracks. If there was a nobel peace prize or some societal outstanding award for stubbornness, you win beating every nomee in a landslide. "There isn't an us, there just is just our flirty friendship that has a suffocating amount of romantic tension which sucks!" You declared turning around. Taken aback he sat up, "I thought that you liked this flirty friendship."
"Not if it's only going to be a fucking friendship." You said lowly leaning against your desk. Realizing what you'd said you spit out whatever would save your ass, "Let's just pretend like this never happened." Standing up and walking in front of you. "I'm not okay with pretending, especially when I've waited so long." You try to push away but you're already in a corner, both literally and metaphorically.
" I'm bad luck, trust me. You deserve a girlfriend who can actually tell you how she feels, Con." It was like a lightbulb flashed in his head. Turning around and grabbing a reversible octopus off of your bed. "Tell me how you feel then." He said placing it into your hands. It was on green, green would be playing it safe. Your friendship would stay the same and you wouldn't have to risk ruining it. No deep end.
You flipped it to purple before handing it to Connor. He smiled, "You deserve to be loved." You looked up at him, deep end bound. He placed his hands on either side of your face. "So let me through those walls." You breathed in. "Only if you promise you won't hurt me."
"Never. I could never hurt you." You felt the moss and ivy that had grown upright on those walls slowly retracted. You moved to place your head in the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you. "Shit, there goes my stone cold bitch reputation." You joked.
Loosening his grip he curled one of fingers and placed it under your chin. "You were never stone cold to me." Pressing his lips to yours. "But my girlfriend is a bitch and I like her very much." He joked causing you to giggle.
"So, are we going to the dance? Because I like this." You said, He stepped back. "Yes and we can do more of this later." He said as you grabbed your shoes. "Didn't take you for a clinger, Con." You said sitting down to tie them. "Really?" He said jumping onto your bed and crashing into you, "Cause I can get clingy-er." He said pulling himself into you as you finished to tie your shoes. You looked over and smiled.
"M'lady." He said holding his hand out with a dorky british accent. "Why thank you kind sire." You said taking it and walking out of your room.
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catharrington · 4 years
Note
It’s Highnon, not high when she writes to you (ironically). The prompt was doctor-patient porn, but not like a porn video being made within the fic story, but just straight up porn. Doctor A must give a full... physical... examination of Patient B, both inner and outer for a full health check up. Mmm what kind of instruments would Doctor have? Hey! That one’s not medical grade appropriate that one looks like was specially made for a particular use! Oh Doctor, do make me feel... better 🍆🍑💦👅
Highnon you are a dirty dirty dog. That’s why I like you ;) idk why I’m always thinking about hockey player Steve. I think I’m projecting Keanu Reeves on him a little bit lol. But w/e~ enjoy!
Fooled around and fell in love.
Steve skated towards the exit gate with a hiss of pain, clutching his side where one of his teammates sticks had broken over it. He didn’t want to listen to his coach and get it checked out. He actually insisted on continuing practice. That was until a friendly pat on the back had his breath shortening in his chest, his ribs seizing up, and his legs giving out. So it became less of a suggestion, and more of an order.
Stepping off the ice and across to the locker room, Steve changed out of his not thick enough padding and jersey for his street clothes. A skimpy pair of shorts almost pastel in their spearmint green color, and a cut off tshirt that once read a band name and is now too faded from sweat and washing detergent to decipher. Skating got him cold, but hockey practice always left Steve over heated so he didn’t like to wear much after.
Now, however, as he lifts his duffel bag and skates tied together with their laces over his shoulder, and carries his stick in his hand like a wizard on an adventure, his shorts feel a little silly.
He’s got to make the trek across his university campus to the infirmary. Any other day, Steve would dump his stuff in his car and maybe drive his car. But it’s sunny outside so he walked to the closed off air conditioned auditorium. Of course.
The sun comes down on his back as he thinks about the physical therapist he’s walking towards. Hargrove, Doctor Hargrove, if one can even be a doctor of giving massages. He’s just transferred down from being a football teams specialist in California and he shows it. Young and talented. All sun kissed skin and rippling surfer muscles. The type of guy to pull his long blond hair back into a pony tail and roller blade down a boardwalk with cut off jeans on— and only cut of jeans on.
Steve shivers with the image.
But it’s real life that has those shivers crawling as goosebumps up the patch of hair on Steve’s chest and to his neck. It’s the real life Doctor Hargrove that wears sun faded button up shirts left unbuttoned just a smudge unprofessionally. And the real life pair of gold wire frame glasses he keeps on the tip of his button nose. Looks over them with a smile when he’s listening to Steve’s story of his visit. Doesn’t judge, just smiles perfect teeth. Makes Steve feel warm all over no matter how much pain he’s in.
And damn, that’s not great. Having a school boy crush on a Doctor he’s only meet three times. That’s not going to keep his scholarship he so desperately needs.
So Steve tries harder, pushing himself to skate faster and shoot straighter and shove bastards up against the glass. Prove he’s good as hell at hockey. But that leads to more accidents. More injuries. And now he’s here, in front of the quaint little therapy office, for a forth time this season.
“Harrington,” the receptionist calls as soon as he comes through the door.
Steve smiles sheepishly back at her, dumping his equipment off on a coffee table littered with magazines before he goes up to her window. “How’s it going?” he tries to lean casually but ends up wincing in pain.
She’s not impressed, sympathetic, but not impressed. She doesn’t look down as she picks up her phone and presses two buttons before saying his name out loud again. It’s only a short call, just to get Doctor Hargrove out, just to hear those unprofessional boots hitting the linoleum floor.
“Stevie,” Doctor Hargrove opens the door with a salty breeze of ocean air. Catches Steve right on his jaw with how he’s got his hair pulled back in a loose pony tail. His wire frames folded to the pocket of his shirt making it weigh down teasingly showing off more tanned skin. Steve licks his lips and tries to focus on the doctor’s words as he starts speaking.
“Your coach called me and let me know what happened. A whole stick cracked over your back. I gotta say— that’s pretty hardcore to take and keep trying to play... for a pretty boy like you.” He ends the last with a wink.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m here? The best care for the school’s best team players?” Steve tries to casually complement him. Remind him it’s professional.
“The best care, and the best hands... all for you, Stevie,” Doctor Hargrove smirks.
He gets his words thrown right back to him with a flirty force strong as California sun burns. Makes Steve blush up his legs and under his shorts to the softest part of inside his thighs. Steve can only giggle, running a hand over the sweaty back of his neck while keeping his head down.
“Lets get started, I’ve got you all set up,” he steps aside to hold the door open. Steve doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to let himself get too close. But at the same time he craves it, yerns for it, would beg for it, if it would make a difference.
So he leaves his huge bag of equipment in the safety of the waiting room and scoots past his physical therapist close enough to make his mouth water.
“Last door,” the Doctor whispers directions into the narrow hallway. Steve goes quickly to the open doorway. Settles inside in a not settled way, clutching his arms across his stomach as he watches Doctor Hargrove ready about.
One hand motions Steve over while the other slides across a massage table’s plush leather. A long dark cream colored thing he’s familiar with. Each massage is simple, lets Steve keep a pair of shorts on the whole time, stands him up nicely with a hand to his lower back, and leaves him feeling all together lighter and heavier at the same time.
“Shirt off, lay down, call me Billy,” he starts listing off more orders. They sound so good.
Steve follows easily. Yanking his shirt off, rustling his shoulder length brown hair, and going to the table to lay down right at his doctor’s beck and call. “Billy,” he tests the name on his mouth lastly. He knew Hargrove’s name was William— but Billy tasted so much better.
“Stevie,” Billy says as he hovers his hands over his naked back, “this whole side of your ribs are going to bruise.” He makes a tisk sound with his mouth like he’s scolding him. Makes Steve’s breath hitch.
“I’m going to feel around, make sure nothing is broken or misplaced. Let me know if you feel any shifting or pain.” Then fingers are on Steve’s side, playing with his skin to shift it around and feel the ladder of his bones. Wide fingers that are well used with calloused tips, but somehow soft and warm. Sand underfoot on a beach you know is made of tiny glass shards but you cannot help but to burry your hands up to your wrists in its warmth.
Steve shivers again, doesn’t moan. “Just super sore,” he replies. And yes, there isn’t any sharp pain or poke, just his skin clouding over in purple as his muscles throw a fit from being abused.
“Then that’s good,” Billy hums. His hands leave only for a moment. Steve doesn’t have to look. He can hear a clicking top of a bottle and the tell tale sounds of wet hands rubbing against each other. Warming up. Steve puts his face as flush into the fluffy white pillow of the table as possible to hide his dusty rose cheeks.
“I believe a deep massage right now will do you well. Loosen up the tension and bring healing blood circulating back to the bruise. Get it nice and worked out, hum? That sound good, Stevie?” Billy prattles on but hasn’t touched him yet.
Steve doesn’t reply, he’s thinking about why and when Billy considered it okay to call him Stevie. A part of him realizes he’s been doing it since their first meeting.
Before his mind wanders too far, there’s two warm hands palming his shoulder blades. Wet and sopping in oil that slides across his skin easily. Melts his stiff back good enough to make his eyes flutter closed. Steve wills his arms to come from his sides up to wrap around his head, uses them like a makeshift pillow when he has a perfectly fine one, really uses his flushed skin to bite down on.
“This is a brand new oil I had delivered here from California,” Billy makes small talk as if his hands weren’t working circles into the top of Steve’s tense muscled back hard and deep enough to make him see stars. “It’s organic and world peace, all that stuff. Made with real hemp oil local to there. Really supposed to do the trick.”
“Hemp oil?” Steve purrs out. Doesn’t really registers he’s done it until his mouth is already open and dragging the L noise through the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut. Presses his forehead into his pillow.
Billy only laughs over him. His hands working down and down, working right where Steve’s spine dips. Rubbing long lines in and out the dip with his two thick thumbs every inch and sends an electric shockwave of pleasure. Does it unhindered and unbothered and so professionally it’s making Steve’s toes curl in his Nikes.
“Yeah hemp,” Billy keeps talking. “They are really looking into it back home. All the uses. Oil, of course, but then there’s the seeds they can use to make flower, and the plant itself can make fibers for rope or clothes. Imagine that, hum? A shirt made from hemp?”
Billy’s hands are down at Steve’s Venus dimples. Right above the waist band of his pastel mint shorts. The oil is soaking into his skin making him feel drunk. The pressure of the fingers are turning his body numb in the best, the very best, of highs.
Steve isn’t paying attention anymore, he’s got his eyes closed and his tussled hair falling over his face. Only hums back for a second as a reply. Doesn’t care the hum comes out much too deep and long. And then comments without filtering. “I imagine some hemp rolled into a joint would be pretty good right about now.”
That earns him a laugh. And Billy’s pressing his thumbs directly into his Venus dimples as he lets the laughter roll through his fingers.
Steve wasn’t ready, can’t stop the moan that comes out of his mouth. He tries to catch it with a hand slapped to lips but it’s too late. Billy’s fingers are gone. There’s a list of apologies already forming on Steve’s tongue, but then those fingers are back. Not back on his skin, but pushing lightly against the waist band of his shorts.
One hand teasing right where they sit over a hip, the other hand pressing into the bruise on his side. But not his hand, something else. Something long and thin and curved off at the tip.
“Billy?” Steve shivers again. Wishes he had all those fingers back.
“I’d like to try something else new, if you’d permit me?” Billy asks. The object tracing around his ribs. Putting more pointed pressure down on them then fingers could. Making Steve’s breath fully catch with how his body can only mold around the solid object.
“This is a massage stick. It’s wooden, hand carved out of real cherry oak. It’s supposed to calm and relax and also reach where I couldn’t with my fingers.” The round tip traces one rib all the way from Steve’s stomach to his spine. Leaves a trail of oil as it goes. Billy must have gotten it dripping wet with the stuff.
Steve moves his hand off his lips, groans as soon as he does, but recovers with a soft nod. “Oh— Okay,” he permits Billy to continue. Steve moves his hand up to get a fist in his hair in an attempt to shut himself up.
“Good, boy,” Billy growls out over him, his tone changed. Warm sand sweltering under the hot sun. Steve’s skin blistering where his fingers are still playing with his waist band.
“Let me take these down, just a little, don’t want to get oil all over your shorts?” and his voice is gravel rough and sickly sweet all at the same time. And better, he’s bent over whispering right into the back of Steve’s neck. His breath his fire scorching over the long hairs that curl over the nape of Steve’s neck. Making them blow in his wind and also get wet and tacky all at the same time.
Steve yanks the fist of his own hair he has hard, trying to swim back to the surface. It doesn’t work. Instead he only drags out another moan, sluty, needy, and at the end of it begs, “yes, oh, yes,” in a chant.
Billy listens, sliding his shorts down just so they clear the curve of Steve’s ass. The waist band hooking under his curvy shapely cheeks to make them plump up even more. One hand splays over his ass. Palms him easy and whole like a fucking basket ball. Billy’s hand still wet and soft with the oil gives his cheek a testing squeeze that makes Steve whimper and buck into the massage table.
It’s embarrassing, but Steve can’t think. Can only smell Billy’s cologne, his own cock hard and dripping pre cum in his shorts, and good weed.
The massage stick moves from his ribs to the small of his back. Testing their muscles like before, making them give in easy ways fingers couldn’t. Billy rubs before he starts dragging the stick up the dip of Steve’s spine. He’s pushing hard but not painful, not enough to bother the curve of each disk in his spine but enough to pressure each muscle to a romantic numb feeling.
Billy takes the stick up and down twice, letting Steve’s posture completely change under the treatment, arching up into the touch, before he drags it down farther. Over the knot of his spine at the very bottom. Then the slickness of the oil drips down the crack of his ass. Steve’s eyes snap open, screwed shut focusing on his haggard breathing, now he has to stop himself from thinking he’s dreaming.
Doctor Hargrove, Doctor dream boat, shirt left unbuttoned because he’s an asshole who loves to put on a show. Knows exactly how beautiful the rippling waves in his blue eyes are. Knows he promises with each muscle and motion to the domination he could have over those waves if he only had a board.
It’s almost a dream. He’s got those hands on Steve’s body, asking Steve for permission and taking the reigns at the same time. Steve’s good at skating and chasing a puck. He was raised under thick trees in a dark forest and cold winters practicing on his skates with the headlights of his car the only light. He’s not used to the glare of the sun, not used to how his leaves unfurl under the attention. He’s embarrassed, but god he can’t help it.
Billy keeps moving the massage stick down, over the curve of his ass and gets the oil spread all over his hole. Gets the side of the stick rubbing on him long, hard, dominating every inch of him.
“Holy shit,” Steve finally lets out in a breathy coil. His arms fold under the pillow to press it hard to his face. While his thighs press together in a full body shiver, his hips arching up off the table for more friction.
The pillow is stifling his whimpers and moans, Billy seems to notice. He gets the hand not occupied with the massage stick to trail up Steve’s back. Dragging his thick, heavy fingers up to run through the length of Steve’s brown hair at the back of his head.
Billy gets his fingers buried in their damp length and pulls Steve’s head out of the pillow.
“Holy fuck, Billy,” Steve lets out unhindered. His neck pulling taught as he chants out, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” then drops into wordless moans.
“Yeah, I knew you’d love this, pretty boy,” Billy murmurs right into his ear.
His hand is still moving, up and down, before the rounded tip catches lightly on the rim of his hole. Steve whimpers desperately, arching up so the well oiled tip pushes easily right in. Billy keeps his wrist straight as the wood inches inside, positively growls as Steve fucks himself on it. Pulling his hair tighter, yanking his head back makes his back arch even more, Steve moans out as his knees push his ass up higher. He’s letting Billy play him like an instrument.
And honestly, Steve doesn’t care he’s letting Billy play him like an instrument. The only thing he’s thinking about is the thick fingers gripping his hair and the hard shaft of wood working inside him.
It’s been a while for Steve, trying to maintain a good grade point average and be the best at a difficult sport, he hasn’t been fucked in a while. His rim opens slowly, dragging slightly painfully as the massage stick goes deep. But the oil is slick and the wood is smooth. He whimpers out a soft gasping noise as he feels Billy’s knuckles brush against his ass cheek.
Billy keeps his fist around the base of the massage stick, twists it so his hand is flush with Steve’s skin, sinking the wood as far inside as he’ll let it go. He manages to keep an air of professionalism, much to Steve’s disappointment, as he rolls his wrist to push in and out. Dragging until the rounded off head is almost out then pushing right back in knuckle deep.
Steve’s straining, pulled taut between Billy’s fist and his own eagerness to get filled with whatever he can reach. His back straining beautifully in a way that hurts his muscles as much as massages them. If he could stay like this, head yanked back and practically sitting up on his knees to get his ass out, for hours he would. But his cock is still trapped in his skimpy little shorts. His cock is dripping wet pre cum that’s leaving a wet spot almost up to his navel. There’s a smell of it in the scented air. And with each thrust of Billy, those languid and deep thrusts of the massage stick inside his ass, the tip of Steve’s cock presses into the leather of the table.
“Bill— Billy,” Steve struggles to get out, struggles to keep his balance with how he’s wiggling and whimpering around. “Please, I want to cum,” he begs.
Then generously, with his own low groan breathed right into Steve’s ear, Billy picks up the pace. Starts thrusting the massage stick short but fast, tilting the head downward to spear into Steve just correct and earn him a sob.
“Yes, fuck yes, Billy,” Steve’s thighs are shaking, his arms that are trying to hold himself up to Billy’s mercy are quivering. His muscles crafted so skillfully for his sport melting sticky, hot under the California sun. Sugar water dripping down Billy’s arms in the middle of the afternoon while he gives his popsicle one lazy lick root to tip.
Inside his shorts, Steve comes a jagged thrusting mess of white. Pumps himself to the same neck breaking thrusts Billy keeps pushing against his prostate with. It’s embarrassing, to cum first and untouched. But the leather is enough to rut against and milk himself with. Dry humping the bed like he’s a teenager again with his magazine of David Hasselhoff lounged out across the hood of his car.
Billy lets his head drop back to the pillow. A kind allowance, let’s Steve’s cries get muffled into the cotton pillow. The massage stick comes out slowly, careful of his sore rim. Steve isn’t thinking about much other than how fucking good he feels until he feels velvet softness press on his ass.
He pushes himself up on one elbow and strains over his shoulder, hurts like hell. But he gets to see Billy, Doctor Hargrove, taking his own cheery red cock out the front of his unzipped jeans and pumping himself mean over Steve’s ass. His lips are glossy and swollen, parted in a groan, and his chest left open by his shirt is flushed with sweat. His doctors coat is open and disheveled, one side fallen off his shoulder. The side he ain’t using to jack himself off on his patient’s ass.
Light blue eyes swirled with sea foam green look upwards at Steve. Catches his own big brown eyes like a cat catching a bird out the sky. With a smile.
He cums like that, making eye contact, smiling with his mouth open and his white teeth sparkling. His tongue rolling out one side just to lick over his fat bottom lip in a tease. His cum shoots fat across Steve’s exposed ass, making it just as glossy as Billy’s lips.
With one hand he pumps himself dry, Steve watching as he shakes with the effort, then uses the other to tuck himself back into his jeans and zip up. Billy has a smile on his face that’s faded slightly from his leering, made softer. He takes both hands and palms them against Steve’s ass. Kneading the muscles of his cheeks just as skillfully as he worked the oil into them.
“Stevie,” he leans back over. Steve drops himself from his elbow as Billy comes in close. Sinking back down to the pillow to lay across it, desperately falling away from those lips. “Feel better after that treatment?” And Billy knows what he’s doing. He leans as far forward as he can, getting his mouth ghosting across Steve’s jaw. Laying open mouthed kisses long his sharp bone as he waits for a reply.
Steve works on one with his spent throat. Struggling slightly to make any noise other than a mewl. Finally he rasps, “feels much better, Doctor.”
Billy giggles at that, right in his ear again. His breath tickling Steve’s hair. “You’re such a good boy for me, Stevie. Let me fix you up perfectly. Let me ruin that pretty ass just right?”
“Billy,” and it’s more of a plea than a name. More of begging than a declaration of anything.
Steve full body shudders on the table as if he’s cuming again when Billy blows a soft breath of air past his ear to lay more kisses. His thick wet tongue curls around Steve’s ear lobe and licks, one long swipe around to the tip, his glossy lips catching all the messy strands of Steve’s hair going everywhere. His tongue moves past. Then he presses one last kiss to the side of his forehead before moving away.
There’s a second’s tick as Steve realizes he’s supposed to move and get up and the knowledge that he simply doesn’t want to. Suddenly he does, pushing himself up and onto shaky legs. Feeling like a doe on thin wavering legs stepping out to the slippery sands of a beach for the first time. He pushes off the table wearily. Reaching for his shirt he discarded on a nearby chair. And oh, thankfully finding a dispenser of paper towels he grabs a fist of to clean his shorts off.
Billy’s still close. A lingering presence right behind Steve as he works around the Doctor’s office. Watching him from those blue eyes predator hungry. Steve wants to rolls his eyes, the man seems starved, but Steve also wants to try for a swim. See where else they can take that old massage table to.
Instead they stay quiet, stay smiling. The cramped examination room very warm now. Steve pulls on his shirt and starts working on wiping the inside of his shorts clean. He feels Billy come up along side him before he can hear him. Even smells his cologne again. The lingering hemp oil on his hands that now reach up to trail along the sensitive skin between Steve’s elbow and his shoulder.
“Want to schedule a follow up? Let’s say?,” and Billy trails off. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at him. His dark eyebrows high on his pretty face and his eyelashes long.
Steve swallows, “Saturday? At 8?” He blurts.
There’s a moment of hesitation on Billy’s face, his thick brows knitting together on his forehead for a second before that wild wolf grin he was wearing as they walked into the back room earlier. “You asking me on a date, Stevie?”
Throwing the towels into the waste basket to clear up his hands, Steve spins in Billy’s arms. He looks up, meets bright blue eyes, wants to watch as his hands trail over the shirt still spread wide on his chest but doesn’t want to look away. Steve nervously plays with the golden wire framed glasses still tucked into Billy’s pocket.
“Yeah, I am,” he says. “My apartment. Got a nice one just a few blocks from campus. Tiny. But decent kitchen. I make a great red sauce pasta, at least that’s what my nana says.”
Billy nods along. Smile turns a little more kitten than wolf as Steve mentions his old nana. “Pasta, your apartment, Saturday at 8? Sounds like a fairy tale date, pretty boy. I won’t miss it for the world.”
Steve shrugs. Feels powerful with his fingers the ones all over Billy’s body. With his appointments and plans the ones taking up Billy’s schedule for once. He feels like sunshine. So he takes his hands and cups them over Billy’s cheeks, slids his own calloused fingers over the subtle beard there, leans in for a soft press of their lips.
Billy is smiling into the kiss. Steve smiles back just as wide. Their teeth knock together once. Steve’s nose gets squished as they move around.
He parts for a second just long enough to whisper, “bring that hemp oil with you, yeah?” before Steve’s got those dreamy lips back on his.
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BTHB: Forced to Beg
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GUESS WHAT it’s more fae bb, she just refuses to stop coming up with ideas, so for now I’m using her for most of this BHTB card! I’ve already got quite a few planned out, but if you have a request for a square with another of my characters or just a scenario you’ve always wanted written, go ahead and send it in! 
If you want to read more, this is part of my Fae BB series, a modern magic world heavily inspired by @0idril0 and @whumpywhumper‘s Nico & Markus/Lucien series respectively (idk when I’ll stop plugging them and their series’ because I LOVE IT) I HIGHLY recommend you check them out. . On my blog page I have a summary and masterlist up now.
Follows sometime after Water
Thanks to @whumpywhumper​ @bleedingandfeverish​ and @straight-to-the-pain​ for beta reading and @quirkykayleetam​ for the idea!
CW: Intimate whumper, religious whump, captivity, toxic religion, creepy whumper, eye gore, SERIOUS eye gore, body horror
“What is this?” Pastor John holds a thick stack of papers in his hand. They’re covered more in handwritten colorful ink than the original black and white printed texts, notes squished into every available space in a rainbow of information. Careful, precise handwriting on crisp paper, that crumples and gives under the punishingly tight grip of the man, veins popping in his hands.
Sitting back on her heels, on her knees, Faith keeps her hands still, gently clenched on top of her thighs. She tries to keep her voice even,“I-I was researching, about the Fae. About myself. It is where I failed in my path, in my work. ‘First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.’ “ 
A deep sigh comes in reply, an echo of disappointment lingering in the air. “Luke 6:42, very good. Yes, I know, we discussed this. I agreed to give you back your research, so you could look at it with new eyes, to see the wickedness you were born into. But these—” He squats in front of her, sharply pressed slacks crumpling on top of old leather loafers in her downcast vision. The papers flub-blub-flub in his hands as he shakes them, a curious sound that would make her giggle if not for the severity of the clipped tone. “These, Fae, look an awful lot like notes on magic. Spells. And ways to perform them.” 
“T-They are, Pastor. But only for understanding how it works. The nature of my sin.” 
It’s a weak excuse, a bad excuse, a stupid excuse. God above, how stupid was she, to think she could lie and get away with this?
Silence weighs down upon her thickly, the world of lies she’s been living in pressing in on all corners. Lies that have weighed on her since before she knew them. But that weight is no longer intangible, now he can see it, she can feel it. The burden of her sin has fallen on her shoulders, and she’s chosen to carry it. 
But after all, God isn’t supposed to tempt you beyond your ability. That there would be escape with the temptation. The problem was, what was the temptation, and what was the escape? 
Somehow, she’d thought that maybe if she had been born magic, been born to all those things supernaturals believed in, something in that magic could be the thing to save her. Could be the sign she’d been looking for. 
Because when the fire in the water, the attempt of iron baptism to burn her sin, had met her soul, it hadn’t just burned away the edges of faith concealing who she really was. It had ignited something within her, some temptation she’d always known, which had followed to this point. Had followed, to her folly, again thinking it was the escape God intended for her.  
God had no mercy for Eve, and he would have none for guilty Fae who have chosen the apple over the garden. 
A hand tilts her chin until she’s looking at his eyes. His eyes that are slightly red, tears budding at the edges that she hopes are flowers of forgiveness, the forgiveness he preaches to her, the forgiveness that is the only thing she prays for now. From her supernatural friends, for not listening. From her parents, for lying. From her brother, for everything.
“Why would you lie?” His voice breaks, leather tones cracking like a brittle piece left to dry in the sun. With it, a tear falls, bright against the irritated blotchiness of his skin, a wet sound to his breath. “After all we’ve done, Fae, all our— why would you lie rather than ask for forgiveness?” A hand so soft and gentle cups her face, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. Her own tears smear with it across her cheek as she leans into the touch. 
“I’m sorry.” 
No, that’s a lie too, if she’s honest. She’s not sorry for trying to escape this hellway to heaven. But the fact is she put herself here. Let herself fall back into sin again and again.  Forgot how to be truthful, how to be honest and think of anything but herself. Had she ever really? Had she ever meant it? 
Was she Eve, tempted into sin, or a devil in disguise here to tempt the faithful?
“I don’t see it. Show me, show me you are sorry” She watches with pleading eyes as he gets up, figure blurred to her tearful regret. He moves away, the gentleness gone. Arms are clasped in front of him, waiting, a stone statue gazing down on her, leaving her to make her own contrition.
“Please, please. I am sorry, I am. I lied. I was- was tempted by it. Again. I should’ve known” 
Silence meets her, unmoving, unwavering, unsatisfied. 
So she tries again. 
“C-corinthians 10:13 says,  God will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, so I was tempted, tempted to see what magic could do but God, my love for him, would never let me be tempted to do magic. The knowledge, that was- was my escape from temptation. To know, so I wouldn’t be tempted to do. Please Pastor I recognize it was wrong, I know, I knew and I did. Please by the Lord’s mercy forgive me” 
It’s absolutely a lie, now. Because she’d tried to use those tiny tendrils she felt in her body, a whisper of a voice of a song she didn’t know, couldn’t know.  But as those eyes bore into her, her body starts shaking, using all the movement he should be. But he’s just standing there, silent, as more words pour out of her mouth, as she mistakes proverbs and words in her stumbles to try and explain, to try and reconcile her actions.
The silence leaves her with nothing to do but try not to drown in her repeated mistakes, drops in a bucket turned tub turned ocean of her own making. Why was she so incapable of doing the right thing? Of doing what he said and leaving? Why did she insist on making herself take two steps back for every step forward, putting her foot in her mouth even now. 
Her penitential deluge is interrupted by a sigh, stopped dead in its tracks.  After what feels like an eternity of stoned silence, the Pastor turns swiftly, leaving her with nothing but the thud of his steps before there’s a return to silence. 
Her brain tries to comprehend what it means, tries to dissect every minuscule facial movement imagined or not seen in the shadows of the dark. Did he forgive her? Did he believe her? What had she even said? The memories of her own words slip through her fingers like water, as ‘should’ve’s’ and better words come to mind. 
Her panicked race of thoughts is interrupted by the creak of stairs coming back down. Distinctive by now as they evoke the hope of mercy and the fear of discovery, the duality of her new existence, her limited choices. 
This time, she prays it’s hope she feels. 
When she opens her eyes to see John holding a box filled with things, it is instead a rabbit-hearted dread.
“Pastor?” 
His breath hitches through his nose, voice almost cracking. “I prayed, I did, that we could prevent this. But I see, now, that we may have to take a push forward to prevent a backslide.” He sets the box down, but she doesn’t dare look, doesn’t dare look away from the kindness in his eyes, the gentleness of his hands that is all she can cling to down here. 
And gently, those hands lay her down, one rubbing circles into the back of her head while the other presses on her sternum in an unspoken command that makes her fold like paper. It feels like a dream almost, something unreal, something that’s happening to someone far away as hands are pulled above her head, fastened together and to a wooden beam tightly, so tight it’s tingling in her fingertips like tiny fireworks as blood struggles to meet them. 
The box scrapes against the ground, and she feels a heavy weight settle on her pelvis, her eyes refusing to look away as John pulls on a pair of purple gloves. 
“Matthew 18:9,” is what he says as a latex finger goes to flick a tear that’s leaked out of her eye harshly, the material dulling the warmth of his skin, an alien touch that suddenly makes him feel less human, but more real. 
Matthew 18:9. Matthew 18:9. What is Matthew 18:9? 
The hand goes to squeeze her shoulder muscle, sending a lance of pain up her numbing arms, eyes shooting open wider. 
“Fae. What is Matthew 18:9?” The voice becomes rigid. Severe. Bitter. Like the time where she was struggling to breathe as iron-laced water flooded her lungs. When she failed to be purified by it, burning in a pooled hell. 
As the pressure increases, feeling like it’ll crush her muscle, her brain finally scrambles to find the words, fallen from her mouth practically unbidden
“And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into the hell of fire.”
The shock of realization makes her twist, thrash under the weight that sinks down on her torso, preventing movement alongside the ropes that cut into her skin with friction, barely allowing any flow of blood and turning her arms into numb weights.
“No, please, please no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Pastor, please forgive” she scrambles for a plea, a phrase, something she hasn’t used yet. “J-James 2:13! Mercy triumphs over judgement.” But the hands ignore her, shuffling through supplies, wiping something cold and stinging all around her right eye.
 “Pleasedon’tdothis, 1 John 1:9 ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness’. PleasepleasepleasePLEASE!” Her voice is high and airy in her throat as she struggles to pull in air between the real weight of John on her chest, and the weight of her own panic allowing only the shallowest sips to reach her lungs. 
The hands stop and sigh, directing her gaze to his face. Her breath stops at meeting the cold gravestone slate of his eyes, frozen by his touch. 
“Proverbs 19:8 ‘Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.’ I have shown you mercy. I cannot abide your crying anymore without punishment Fae.”
The tears start to flow as the stinging returns to her eyes, pleas now just helpless sobs as he sets objects beyond her eyesight. There’s the distinct smell now of antiseptic, overpowering. She watches him take a swig of clear liquid from a bottle next to her before he pours it over his hands, rubbing them together. 
“I wish there was another way. Your eyes, they see such awful words, they read such terrible things and give you ideas. I forgive you, but He will not Fae. I’m sorry.” 
His tone is resolute even as it fades into a gruff apology, body adjusting to squash the last of her apologies, breath escaping her flesh even as she wishes she could follow it. 
The hand readjusts to pry open the lids of her right eye, thick fingers too strong for the weak muscle. The liquid burns but she can’t close them against it, eyes watering until he’s a blur in her forced vision. The wetness of her tears coats the latex, and a second hand comes to touch her eye itself. Fae’s back attempts to arch under the strain, body screaming with a not supposed to be there don’t touch thatnotsupposedtoTOUCH!
It’s a sharp pressure that builds quickly overwhelming her senses. Sobs turn to screams, wailing on every exhale, short between breaths. It could be minutes. It could be seconds. But the pain feels like an eternity as every piece of her screams against the intrusion to the softest, most vulnerable, most exposed of her organs. The world goes white, pain turned into high pitched noise in her ears as her heart struggles to keep up, a rhythm of thumpthutmpthutmpthump that speeds impossibly fast in her chest. 
And then there’s a pop. Sickening, slimy, a noise that reminds her in a delirious amount of pain like the sound of a sucker out of someone’s mouth. Quiet, slightly slurpy as it’s crushed and pulled, leaking not just tears but now blood and fluid. It’s disquieting to hear it. 
It’s most disquieting to see it freed, for a moment. The world drifting in a nauseating set of two distances, warping to her brain as he doesn’t stop. No. He pulls. 
As the cord snaps, she remembers hearing about the dangers of taut ropes. Of how, when they snap, they whiplash back, causing severe injury. The physics teacher had demonstrated on a rubber band, and she remembers the small snap on her hand that day as she tried it with a lab partner. The feeling like her skin had torn open. 
She has no idea if the nerves react like a rubber band, but her brain tells her that they have. That her entire right side has been whiplashed, shattered bone, ripped skin, blood pouring in heated rivulets until all she can taste is copper and pain. Her face is gone, skull crushed by agony as it booms within in an explosion like a firework set off far too close. A haphazard celebration. 
And it’s his smile of celebration holding a piece of her that she sees as the other half of her world goes dark.
Tags:@bleedingandfeverish @starry-whump  @whumpywhumper​ @greatandquestionablecontent​ (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)
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thatgirlonstage · 4 years
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@fluffyblue-multifandommess so I tried to save your ask in draft at one point while I was working on answering it (it uh.... got... long on me) and fortunately I didn’t actually lose it but it did fuck the formatting to hell and I couldn’t fix it, so I just copy-pasted into a new post entirely; sorry about that.
@fluffyblue-artnwriting asked: I'm thinking about possibilities for a wangxian Witcher!AU and I can't decide which one of them is the Witcher because on one hand WWX has a personality way closer to Jaskier but ALSO the whole Public View Of Witchers Is Shit thing parallels demonic cultivation nicely.... And THEN I thought, but what if LWJ is the witcher and WWX is... like Yennefer. Then who would take on the bard's role... IDK. Maybe NHS? I like the idea of LWJ&NHS friendship A Lot but their dynamic would be very different from Geralt and Jaskier’s obviously. However that all works out, one thing is obvious; A-Yuan is Ciri.
*rubs hands together* Okay hear me out: WWX as the Witcher and LWJ as the Bard, but paralleling a sort of Jaskier/Geralt roleswap AU. The one where Jaskier is a witcher and Geralt is a bard, albeit a much more subdued type of bard, the kind who sits in the corner of an inn and strums his songs and gains a reputation as this guy with a deep, husky (well, Geralt is husky, LWJ in this instance is more… warm and round) kind of voice who is maybe not the best for a jig but whenever he sings he has a way of just making everyone stop and listen. He tells stories with his songs, and he makes people want to hear them. And he doesn’t really like to stick around after he plays, he doesn’t want to be dragged into every piece of gossip and every scandal of every small town he visits, he prefers to meet people privately and gather his stories thoughtfully and carefully before he sets them to music. But one day after his set, just as he’s packing up, this has-no-fear witcher sprawls himself across the table nearest the bard and calls for a drink and a meal for the man who sings so beautifully, golden eyes glowing (like the sun, Lan Wangji thinks, like he wants to light the world around him, not hellfire and brimstone like he’s heard). So he takes the meal but turns down the drink and requests instead to follow him for a day and see if there’s a story waiting in the witcher’s company.
And there is, there’s dozens of stories, but more importantly there is Wei Ying with his golden eyes and bright smile and fierce whirling swords, and the way he laughs and waves it off when the innkeepers throw food in his face or people lie about what they agreed to pay him or even when he is literally stoned out of town. So Lan Wangji vows he will write songs about the witcher, about the children he saves and the long nights in the mud and the wilderness, about stitching his own wounds back together because not even a doctor will touch him. He will write songs so beautiful it will make grown men weep, he will write songs so popular that no one will be able to get them out of their heads, he will write songs for noble and common alike, he will make people stop looking at Wei Ying with fear and revulsion if he has to play until his fingers bleed.
(“Lan Zhan, why do you write so many songs about me?” Wei Ying laughs as he asks it, the question only half serious.
“I write songs that I want people to hear,” he answers, and Wei Ying’s mask slips slightly to the complicated face beneath the smile.)
(He writes one song that is not about him, but for him. One song that no one else will ever hear.)
(“Wangji, be careful with your songs,” his brother tells him, but it doesn’t stop him.)
(Oops it got long, more under the cut)
I am vaguely aware from fanfic that there was at some point, some kind of attack? On the witchers? A bunch of them were wiped out? This would be a lot easier if I knew more lore and history but I want to read the books now* so I’m not gonna spoil myself by looking at the wiki (I also imagine with the number of different canons that looking at the wiki is likely to confuse me more than anything). But anyway: the destruction of Lotus Pier.
Lan Wangji eventually meets Wei Ying’s family, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, two other witchers, three of very very few witchers left. Jiang Cheng fights monsters with a whip that crackles with purple lightning. Jiang Yanli uses potions that make her monstrously strong, and drips poison on her blade. Lan Wangji asks Wei Ying why his swords seem perfectly ordinary, if largely too heavy for the average man to swing about with ease, or why he doesn’t use the same potions and poisons Jiang Yanli does, the ones she warned Lan Wangji not to touch lest they burn his skin. He asks why the scars in his skin seem so much deeper, like they took far longer to heal. Wei Ying laughs it off and hastily changes the subject.
(Netflix told us fuck all about witcher lore so I am kinda flying by the seat of my pants here and also this is a more subtle version of losing his core. But the idea here is that WWX gave up some degree of witcher magic that would have allowed him to use magic weapons/the potions. He’s still unnaturally strong, he can see in the dark, he can smell out monsters, but he’s not quite what a full witcher should be.)
One time, when they meet in a roadside inn, Wei Ying seems fit to burst with excitement at seeing him. He pulls him up to his room before Lan Wangji can protest and takes a glossy black flute from his saddlebags. “Teach me to play it, Lan Zhan?” Golden eyes shine like the first glimmers of dawn. “I’ve always wanted to learn music but the witchers never allowed it, and now I’m never in one place long enough to learn.” He has a way of talking around things, Lan Wangji has learned, when it’s something that he fears will evoke pity. Lan Wangji knows that no community suffers a witcher to stay a day longer than necessary, and that even if he managed to earn his keep in a borderland city or somewhere like that, somewhere he could return every month or so, no one would take a witcher as a music student. “But we travel together all the time!” Wei Ying is saying. “So you can teach me!”
Lan Wangji takes the flute, examining it. “I do not play the flute,” he says. Wei Ying’s face falls.
“Oh,” he says. “Right. I thought about getting a guqin like yours, but it’s too bulky to carry with everything else, and I’d be too worried about breaking it when I get in fights…” He reaches for the flute, but Lan Wangji does not return it.
“My brother plays. I took some lessons with him when we were children. I remember the basics. I will teach you.” And Wei Ying lights up again, the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
He’s fumbling at first, his ear unused to the difference between flat and sharp, his fingers unaccustomed to the delicate pressure needed. But he’s a fast learner, and his hands have always been clever. Soon, the days that they travel, when they don’t end in monster hunts, they end in music, in quiet evenings around a campfire, improvised duets weaving through the smoke.
One time, when they meet out on the road, both chasing the same rumor of a cockatrice (well, Wei Ying chasing the rumor, Lan Wangji chasing Wei Ying), Lan Wangji takes out a newly purchased jian and says “Will you teach me?” He doesn’t expect the horror and sadness that spasms over Wei Ying’s face.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, more somber than Lan Wangji has ever seen him, “you don’t have to kill monsters to travel with me. You don’t have to kill anything.”
“Mn. I have no wish to kill. I only want to be able to defend myself, so that you do not have to risk yourself if I am in danger.” Wei Ying still looks hesitant, but he brightens considerably, and agrees to teach Lan Wangji the basics of swordplay. He is not starting from scratch — he learned a few things growing up the child of nobility — but it has been many years since he has been near anything more serious than a bar brawl or a mugging. He is also a fast learner, and so long as Wei Ying does not use his witcher strength, after enough practice Lan Wangji holds his own and even puts Wei Ying in the dirt from time to time.
As for Yen, I actually really like NHS as Yen? He grows up in a family where he was supposed to swing a sword he never wanted to pick up, and he hated it so much that one day he simply teleported away. By the time Nie Huaisang makes it back home, his brother has a plan. He has recently thrown out the Unclean Realm’s Brotherhood advisor, Meng Yao, for treason. If Nie Huaisang has the spark, then Nie Mingjue will send his defenseless little brother to become a powerful mage, and then he can be the Unclean Realm’s advisor. So much easier when things stay in the family. So Nie Mingjue writes to one of the rectors, Lan Qiren, and secures Nie Huaisang’s place in the school. Nie Huaisang goes, and he is a shuddering, tearful mess, and he seems to survive by the skin of his teeth, and not even his classmates notice how skillfully he learns to make the world dance with a crook of his finger.
Years later, Lan Wangji accidentally destroys an amphora containing a djinn. He, in a fit of anger, speaks carelessly for once in his life, at the worst possible moment he could have done so. He rides back into town as fast as Wei Ying’s horse can carry them. He hears of a mage who might be able to help. “No mages,” Wei Ying tries to say, but there’s barely enough air in his lungs to force it out as words. Lan Wangji drags him to the mage’s door and begs for help. Nie Huaisang does it out of curiosity more than anything. Never met a witcher who couldn’t guard their mind before. What happened to your magic?
Get out of my head, Wei Ying thinks, but he lets the mage heal him.
“Why no mages?” Lan Wangji finds the courage to ask, much later, months later, fingers trembling over his guqin with the paralyzing shame of his actions. Wei Ying looks away and tells him the story of two siblings — Wen Qing and Wen Ning — marked as cursed, tells him the head of the Brotherhood, Jin Guangshan, sent his nephew Jin Zixun to kill them for fear of what they could become. He walked into the middle of the conflict. Both Jin Zixun and the siblings asked him for his help. Wei Ying chose the Wens. He killed Jin Zixun. The mages declared him an enemy. When Jiang Cheng tried to protect him, they nearly killed him. To repay Wei Ying, Wen Qing saved Jiang Cheng’s life. But no magic comes without a price, and the price for this was Wei Ying’s witcher magic. Afterward, Wei Ying demanded the Jiang school of witchers disown him, and make peace with the Brotherhood, for everyone’s sake. To cement the peace, Jiang Yanli married a mage and Jin Zixun’s cousin, Jin Zixuan.
(Lan Wangji understands, now, why he’s only every met Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli in the wilderness, and then only rarely, why Wei Ying has pleaded with him not to write songs about them, why his brother tried to caution him away, why his uncle seems so exceptionally chilly on the rare occasions they see each other.)
(Nie Huaisang learned Wei Ying’s history while he was poking through his mind. He laughed when Wei Ying asked if he was going to kill him. “Your friend promised me gold and music if you live,” he said. “I would far rather have that than the dubious honor of giving your head to Jin Guangshan on a platter.”)
(It was Jin Guangshan, after all, who — with someone whispering in his ear, Nie Huaisang is certain — noticed how dangerous letting him go home to his brother would make the Unclean Realm, and instead contrived to send him to the ends of the earth, where Nie Huaisang elected to abandon his duties and the Brotherhood.)
Wen Ruohan rules Qishan with the defected Brotherhood mage Meng Yao by his side. He has found and welcomed back his distant relatives Wen Qing and Wen Ning, in the years since they met Wei Wuxian. Hearing their stories, he sends an invitation to the Black Wolf Witcher, to come visit his kingdom. Wei Wuxian pleads and cajoles Lan Wangji into going with him because really Lan Zhan, do I seem like I belong in rich halls among the nobility? I don’t even know what shirt to buy.
(Okay I am about to careen wildly into Simply Making Shit Up that only has a passing resemblance to either canon, bear with me.)
Wen Ruohan, in the midst of his entire court, demands Wei Wuxian choose a reward for saving Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s lives (Wen Qing saving Jiang Cheng’s life is not, cannot be public knowledge). Wei Wuxian tries to demur, but Wen Ruohan refuses to exist in anyone’s debt, let alone an outcast witcher’s. Somewhat desperate and on the spot, Wei Wuxian invokes the Law of Surprise. It can’t be seen as insultingly low or high in value, and he figures at most he’ll get a puppy from the next litter of Wen Ruohan’s hunting dogs, or something equally inane, and they can all call it even. Unfortunately for everyone, Wen Xu’s wife chooses this exact moment to become spectacularly ill, the first sign other than a late period that she is pregnant with Wen Ruohan’s first grandchild. Wei Wuxian flees. He spends a lot of the next few years fleeing.
(“Come to Gusu with me,” Lan Wangji pleads, some time later, on top of a mountain.
“No,” Wei Ying tells him, not because he doesn’t want to, not because he wouldn’t leave the path if he could, but because he can’t stop running, because there are too many maligned creatures who don’t deserve death and too many monsters preying on innocent people that do, because if he doesn’t help them who will, because how can he stop, because he’s terrified of stopping.
“I cannot watch you destroy yourself, Wei Wuxian.”
“Then leave, Lan Wangji.”)
It ends in fire, when Wen Ruohan grows too power hungry, and the Brotherhood turns on him with the Unclean Realm and Lan Wangji’s family on their side, and it turns out that Meng Yao’s defection from the Brotherhood was an act (some of the time? all of time?) and he’s been spying (for years? for months?). Nie Mingjue manages to pull his brother out of exile in return for his help against the Wens, although Nie Huaisang is doubtful about the merits of this.
Wei Wuxian is there when it happens, having been dragged reluctantly back by the strings of fate and the nebulous tie to a child he has never met but who is still a child and doesn’t deserve to die in the coming carnage. Wen Ruohan locks him away for trying to take his grandchild — and heir, after both Wen Xu and Wen Chao perish on the battlefield. He escapes while the city is sacked, but doesn’t manage to find Wen Yuan before he’s fled the city. Instead he finds Wen Qing and Wen Ning, and defends them from the mages when they come into the city. It would’ve been a futile effort, if not for Nie Huaisang and — surprisingly — Meng Yao, who had been at court with them for years at that point, and — even more surprisingly — Jin Zixuan, who has had years of cajoling from Jiang Yanli at this point, stepping to his side. It’s enough that they’re allowed to leave unscathed.
Wen Yuan, meanwhile, meets an elf boy called Jingyi, flees through the fields of refugees, and learns that he has the same kind of magic or curse he heard people whispering about his relatives Wen Qing and Wen Ning having.
Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning find A-Yuan in a destroyed field, lost but alone no more, and he runs into their arms.
Aaaaaaaaaand I have run out of Witcher canon, and this is also OBNOXIOUSLY long by now, so uh, pending part two, maybe, when s2 happens/when I read the books, whichever comes first
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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years
Text
The Old Guard Fanfic - Second Star to the Right
Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97
Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Pairing: Andy & Nile
Characters: Nile Freeman, Andy|Andromache the Scynthian
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Additional Tags:  Family Bonding, Fluff, Family Feels, Vacation, Soft, Family Bonding, Team as Family, soft, Stargazing, andy and nile chat under an open sky, Peter Pan References, Constellations, Stories hidden in the stars, Existential Angst, Mostly Andy talking about how living for 6000 years is not that great, idk guys, there's nothing like looking up at the stars to make one feel small, but that isn't always a bad or scary thing
Summary:
She looked at the stars again. “I like coming to places like this because they make me feel not so old. They are pockets in time, inside of which time hasn’t really passed.” Nile twisted to lay on her back again, looking at the sky. “I feel old when I look at you all, and now without my immortality? I am not scared, but I feel like time is going too quickly. I used to be worshipped as a goddess, as someone not from this world. But I am of this world. So firmly of this world. And looking at these hills, these stars? It makes me feel small.” In a voice that was steadier than it was all evening, she added. “So little makes me feel small anymore. But these stars? They have been here since I was born. And they will still shine long after I am gone. To them, I am as transient as any other human that has walked the Earth. And that is a comfort very few places on the planet can offer me anymore.”
Basically, Andy and Nile share a night under a sky filled with stars and the stories written in them.
Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692349
                                                          ///
They had just finished a bloody mission that left even the immortals feeling worse for the wear. So Andy had told Copley to give them one week off, and hauled them all back into a van, telling them unceremoniously they were going camping. Joe and Nicky had merely slumped against each other, too sore and tired to argue. Nile had sighed, said a very firm “Fine, but we are getting actual food, I am not eating bunnies for dinner.” and fallen asleep in her seat.
Andy woke them up when they reached Lancaster, stopping to eat lunch.
When they got back into the car, Joe curled up against Nicky again, falling asleep quickly. He had been on watch when their mission had gone sideways, and been up for nearly 48 hours. Nicky pulled him more comfortably into his side. Nile curled up in the front seat, plugging her earphones in, and closing her eyes. They were back on the highway quickly.
“Where are we going Andy?” Nile ventured to ask as she saw the city melt into buildings, the skies the peculiar shade of gray she had only seen in the UK.  
“Scottish Highlands.”
Nile paused. Her geography was still not great, but wasn’t Scotland at the opposite end on the island?  “From Surrey? Why are we driving so far?”
“Because I want to be away from people.”
That had shut Nile up. She gave Andy a through once over, noticing the tension in her shoulders, the tight grip she had on the steering wheel, her eyes darting to the side mirrors every few seconds. She looked haunted.
Nicky tightened his grip on Joe and tucked his face into familiar curls in the back seat. Nile settled deeper into the seat, letting Andy drive them.
Agreeing to Nile’s request, Andy had stopped at the last town before they drove into the Scottish Highlands, allowing her family to refuel and buy any food they may need. The two boys had disappeared into a store, saying they were going to buy actual cooking gear for camping.
“Andy, not that I don’t miss the days of spearing innocent forest creatures on sticks and eating, why should we when we can cook them using actual pots and a stove? Look at this, it is specifically made for when people sleep outdoors.” Joe had said, holding up a camping stove with a delighted grin.
Andy had grimaced but held her tongue, just grabbing chocolate and granola bars before returning to the car.
Nicky had nudged Joe to buy the rest of their supplies while Nile was tasked with buying the tents and sleeping bags.
The rest of the drive was peaceful. They had set out in the late morning from Copley’s place, and reached the Highlands by evening, the streetlights thinning out as the sunset painted the sky a beautiful shade of purple and orange. Nile had gasped when they entered the Highlands proper, pressing her face to the window, uncaring that she probably looked every bit the child the others saw her as.
She was all of 26 years old, a woman for others, but painfully young for them. So much curiosity, so much hope, and none of the jaded vision that they other three of them shared.
“Beautiful isn’t it Nile?” Nicky asked.
“I don’t think I have ever seen something so beautiful. Or green.” she said, wonder plain in her voice.
“Used to be, anywhere you walked, green was the easiest colour you could find.” Andy quipped, making Nile look at her. She noted that the tension in Andy’s shoulders from before was slowly decreasing with every mile they drove.
Andy drove them until they hadn’t seen a house for a couple miles, pulling the car out of the road into the Highlands proper, parking it a little distance from the river.
The family of four got out, breathing in air that was so fresh and cool, Nile felt overwhelmed. The only time Chicago air was so clear was in the dead of winter, but even then, the smell of industrialization was inescapable. Being in places like this, still largely untouched by modern civilization, it brought their pasts closer. Joe inhaled deeply before slamming the door, even that loud noise seeming quiet in this place.
“So Nile,” Joe started, making her look at him. “Do you know how to set up a tent?”
///
Nile woke with a start for no discernible reason. She squinted at the pitch black darkness that surrounds her, just flips onto her back and breathes until she feels her heart rate return to normal.
Dinner had been fun, Nicky teaching her the kinds of sticks to use to build a fire, and then showing her how to light it using flint. It had taken her way too many tries, but at least the others had been kind enough to keep their laughter to themselves. Setting up the tents had also been an adventure, but at least that one she had only messed up once before hammering the stakes deeper into the ground.
She took stock of her surroundings, already knowing she was not going to be returning to sleep soon. The chill in the air seems to have soaked into her skin as she slept, her thin nightshirt not enough to warm her. Turning her head, she saw Andy’s sleeping bag exactly as she had laid it out. Their leader had not come to sleep at all.
Reaching her hand out, she felt around for a bit before she stumbled upon the small flashlight she had remembered to buy. Turning it on now, she had to squint at the sudden influx of light in the dark tent. She sat up on her elbows, and saw that there was a small opening at the edge where it was not fully closed.
She sighed. Sitting up properly, she reached for her bag, using the flashlight to grab her hoodie, pulling it over her head. She debated quietly between shoes or going barefoot before shrugging. The possibility of being attacked here without the others knowing was nigh impossible. Barefoot it was. She also grabbed her phone, checking the time out of habit, and seeing it was 3:30 in the morning.
Keeping her flashlight in hand, she unzipped the tent and stepped out. The grass beneath her feet was not yet wet. Moving quietly, not wanting to startle her other two companions, Nile left their small campsite, their fire pit made of ashes and a few red embers.
She turned off her flashlight when she realized it was actually quiet bright, and turned her head to the sky, only to feel as though she had exhaled all at once. There in the sky, an almost full moon shone brightly, so clear Nile could make out a few of it’s craters eve without binoculars. But besides the moon. Besides the moon was a sky so chock full of stars, Nile nearly fell over. As far as she could see, the navy blue ceiling was painted with a million, no, a billion pin pricks of lights, all crowding one another she could barely pick them apart.
Taking a deep breath, she tore her gaze from the sky, setting her gaze to the ground once again so she could find Andy.
The grass was rustling gently, and the hills rose like mountains in the moonlight. Nile walked away from the camp and the car, following the river in the direction where the grass was flatter, as though it had been tread on. After five minutes, she found her target.
Andy was lying on her back on her blanket, one arm tucked her head as the other lay on her stomach. One of her legs was bent at the knee while the other one was flat, and Nile noticed the elder woman was barefoot, shoes set to the sides. When she was less than 10 meters away from her, Andy turned her head to look at her.
“Couldn’t sleep kid?”
Nile shook her head. “Couldn’t stay asleep.”
“Hmm.” Andy hummed before turned back.
Nile took that as a cue and sat next to Andy’s head, closing her eyes. The wind was chilly but she was Chicago born and bred, if the wind didn’t slice through your skin, you just walked on.
“This place looks like its out of a fairy tale or something.”
Andy huffed next to her.
“No seriously. When my mom or dad read fairy tales to me, and they mentioned characters walking for days through valleys, I always imagined places like this.”
When Nile looked at Andy, she saw the woman had her eyes open, a small smile in place. She suddenly felt her breath catch when she realized she couldn’t recall if she had ever seen her look so relaxed before.
“What about you. Couldn’t sleep?” Nile asked after a few minutes.
Andy shook her head once. “Didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
Andy took a deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed and her bent leg to drop. When she opened them, Nile could see her eyes were slightly glazed, and bit her tongue for making Andy upset again. She had been with her new family for about a year now, and while she liked to think she had gotten a hand of things, these people had had nearly 900 years together. There was so much she did not know about them. Andy most of all.
“I’m sorry Andy.”
“No. I am not. I didn’t want to sleep because we don’t come to places like this often.”
“Places…like this? Like places away from people.”
Andy huffed again, her eyes looking less glazed and more fond. “Open fields, green things that stretch as far as the eye can see.”
“Oh.”
“My home, the place I come from, it was similar to this. Open fields that seemed to reach the horizon. Where you could rise a horse all day and all day, and still not be any closer to the sun. Cities, hell, the world nowadays. It is large and filled with people, gray and metallic. You can’t hear the sound of grass rustling, or run in a straight line for as long as you want.” She paused. “You also definitely don’t get a night sky like this anymore.”
Nile exhaled with an agreeing huff.
“I don’t think I have ever seen such a clear sky, not even in Afghanistan.”
“Lie back, it’ll be easier to see without giving you a neck ache.”
Nile smirked before moving forward and lying back, landing on her back with her knees bent and hands folded over her stomach.
The dazzling array was just as stunning, and Nile thought it was a vision she wouldn’t forget for a long time.
She squinted for a minute before smiling as she identified a familiar set of three stars in the sky. “Andy look, Orion’s belt!”
Andy glanced at her before following her hand. “Hmm. Three stars in a straight line.”
“Yeah, it was the first one my dad taught me.” Nile said, smile fading to the familiar mixture of wonder and sadness that was becoming a friend to her in her immortality.
“Your dad taught you constellations?”
Nile nodded her head as best she could. “Me and my brother both. He bought this telescope that he set out in our yard. Mom was so mad at him cause it was so expensive but he just waved her off, telling her it was well worth the prize to show the universe to his kids. Said he was going to help us find Neverland.”
“Neverland?” Andy asked.
“It’s, yeah,” Nile laughed. “Peter Pan. Um, the book, and then the movie, it was my favorite for a long time. The thought of this magical being coming to call me for an adventure in a land far far away? Plus, the directions to Neverland were ‘Second star to the right, and straight on till the morning’. I remember, the first time we watched the movie, I stayed up that night trying to find which star was supposed to be the second star.”
“I’ve not read that book.”
“I’m not sure how much you’d like it. But it is about a boy who has all these other younger boys he takes care of while fighting off the evil Captain Hook, and he has a fairy friend called Tinkerbell.”
“How…charming.”
Nile snorted. “It’s cheesy as hell. And dark too, cause when you read it after you grow up, it kind of implies that Peter doesn’t let the boys go even when they want to leave, forcing them to be young boys forever. Or something like that, it has been forever since I read it.”
“Hmm.” Andy said. “Second star to the right of what?”
“I have no clue!” Nile said, genuine frustration coloring her voice, and Andy can almost imagine an even younger Nile pouting and stomping her foot with indignation. It makes her laugh.
“Neverland sounds magical.”
“I used to dream for a long time for a way to escape there. Especially after my dad passed. The world doesn’t touch Neverland, and if I stayed the same age as when we first received the news he was missing in action, then maybe he could stay missing forever. Rather than dead.”
A stray tear surprised her by making its way down her cheek. Reaching up, she quickly wiped it away.
Andy was quiet, letting Nile compose herself. “He sounds like a good father.”
Nile replied through a lump in her throat. “The best.”
Andy looked back at the sky. “The first thing I remember my father teaching me was to put a saddle on a horse.”
The unexpectedness and absurdity of the statement startled a laugh out of Nile. She turns to her side, tucking her knees in and using her arm as a pillow as she faced Andy. “What?”
Andy smirked. “My people. We were nomads. Our lands stretched over most of today’s Western Asia. We used to travel far and wide. We didn’t have a settlement, a permanent place to call home. Our home was our tribe, those we travelled with.”
Nile felt like she could barely breathe, so scared of breaking this spell. “That is lovely.”
Andy’s smile dimmed. “Yeah. Until all your people die, and you have to either leave them or risk putting them in even more danger.”
“Andy…”
“Nile, I was revered as a goddess by my people. And by some of the others I crossed during my earliest travels. It,” Andy swallowed, “When you are revered, you are held at a distance, you can be welcomed by people, but you will never be one of them.”
Nile stayed silent. What could you say to that?
“When I started dreaming of Quynh, I cried in relief. Finding her, she saved me in so many ways. She brought me back to the ground, gave me someone who would always consider me one of her people.” Andy trailed off, her eyes looking suspiciously glazed while her voice sounded close to tears. “We were just the two of us for so long, and then we had Lykon, then we didn’t, then we got Joe and Nicky. But then I lost her.”
“How did you stay sane Andy?” Nile asks before she can bite back the question.
Andy gave a wet chuckle as a single tear made it’s way down her cheek. She did not bother to wipe it away. “Some days I wonder if I did.”  
The two stayed quiet them, succumbing to unspoken grief. But Nile felt like she was going to suffocate, and she’d be damned if she let Andy do the same. “Did your dad teach you constellations too?”
Andy blinked before twisting her head.
Nile stared straight back at her.
Andy smiled a small smile. It was enough of a victory for Nile.
“He taught me constellations you wouldn’t know.”
“I don’t know that many constellations to be honest.”
Andy let out an actual laugh. “No Nile. He taught me constellations that have been lost to time.
She let out a big exhale, settling back to her position. “In those years when I travelled alone, I started feeling like nothing in this world was significant. Quynh and I travelled to Egypt, we saw Giza before the pyramids were built.”
And shit, statements like that still blew Nile’s mind, because what?
“What?”
Andy chuckled. “Yeah, I remember going while they were clearing out the place for them. Without Quynh, you are all so young to me. Even Nicky and Joe. I have seen the great wonders of the world be built, be new and enchanting, and also seen them grow old and worn. When you have lived a life like mine, things stop feeling significant in some ways.”
Nile didn’t voice how terrifying she found that idea.
“Andy, just because you have seen all the wonders doesn’t mean new wonders cannot still be appreciated.”
“That’s not what I mean Nile.” She held up a hand, and Nile stared at it before tentatively placing her hand in it. Andy squeezed it briefly.
“When you live as long as we do, we see the world change in a way that is different than the change observed over a single lifetime. I have gone from a world where the only way to get around were horses and believing the world was flat to learning to fly and seeing a man walk on the moon.”
“Oh, that’s a story I want to hear.” Nile said, eyes sparkling.
Andy laughed again. “Perhaps another day. Joe tells it best anyways. But what I am trying to say is that the world changes so quickly, that the thing you take for fact now may soon reveal themselves to be falsehoods and myths, and people younger to you,” and here Andy squeezed her hand again, “will take the piss at you for not knowing something that is obvious to them.”
“Booker?”
“Booker.”
She looked at the stars again. “I like coming to places like this because they make me feel not so old. They are pockets in time, inside of which time hasn’t really passed.”
Nile twisted to lay on her back again, looking at the sky.
“I feel old when I look at you all, and now without my immortality? I am not scared, but I feel like time is going too quickly. I used to be worshipped as a goddess, as someone not from this world. But I am of this world. So firmly of this world. And looking at these hills, these stars? It makes me feel small.” In a voice that was steadier than it was all evening, she added. “So little makes me feel small anymore. But these stars? They have been here since I was born. And they will still shine long after I am gone. To them, I am as transient as any other human that has walked the Earth. And that is a comfort very few places on the planet can offer me anymore.”
“Tell me a story.”
Andy blinked at her. Nile gave her an encouraging smile.
“A…story?” Andy asked, as though the word was new to her.
“Of one of the constellations your dad taught you. So there is one other person who will know about them.”
Andy’s breath hitched. Nile was so young, even by normal human lifespans. Too young to have already died. But so kind, so hopeful, Andy sometimes froze with how much life there was in Nile. But she had meant every word that she had said in Merrick’s penthouse, because Nile did remind her of her time being invincible. But she also reminded her of how precious life is.
“A trade. I tell you the constellations my father taught me, if you tell me yours?”
Nile laughed. “Sure, but I only know the big ones.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Nile shook her head even as she used the hand still holding Andy’s for a sideway handshake. “Deal.”
She looked at the sky, trying to imagine the sky to be about 70% less crowded. The longer she stared, the more she was able to distinguish. “Ok well, since we found Orion’s belt, we can also find the rest of Orion. And then close to Orion, we can see the Big Dipper, which means, uhhh,” Nile said as she waved her hand before finding her target. “There. That’s the Small Dipper. Um, what else, oh there, on top of Orion, that’s Gemini, and nearby Taurus, oh wow, you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen all the stars for it at once? One or two would always be too faded in Chicago.”
“You can find all the Zodiac constellations?” Andy asked.
“I know what they look like, but I’ve never seen them all in the sky.”
Andy hummed. “Those 12 constellations. That pattern is seen everywhere in the world, so almost every culture that uses the stars and draws in them finds them.” she explained. “All the Zodiac signs fall in a line that follows the Sun’s path. So if you can find Gemini and Taurus, then you can find the others. Look, follow my finger ok?”
Nile nodded.
“You see that star?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the first star of Cancer. So, those five stars make up Cancer. Then keep following them that way, you see those two stars, they are part of the head of the lion.”
“Leo.”
“Correct, so you will see one star to that side, and then follow it down, that’s the neck, and then these six stars,” She drew a imaginary line between then several times, “Those six make up the body.”
Andy showed her the rest of the constellations, and then to test her, made Nile draw them all out for her.
“Satisfied?” Nile asked as she finished drawing Pisces.
“What others do you know?”
“Um, the Northern cross.” Nile said, searching the sky. Andy grabbed her hand and pointed it towards one section of the sky, letting Nile focus and “Found it!”
“Where is the North star?”
“The last star of the Small Dipper.”
“Very good.”
Both women lay back down, enjoying the wind rustling gently through the trees as they watched the heavens above. Nile felt the warmth from before grow into a comfortable hearth.
“Thank you for the Astronomy lesson.”
“You’re welcome. There may come a time when your fancy GPS, or even a reliable compass won’t work, but you can always trust the stars to guide you in the right direction.”
Nile turned to look at Andy. “Your turn to show me your constellations. We made a deal.”
Taking a deep breath, Andy let her eyes scan the stars above before finding a forgotten constellation. “Do you see those two stars?” Andy pointed.
Nile followed her gaze.
Nile let Andy show her constellations from her childhood, feeling both a bitter pang of nostalgia for her brother and her dad. But also a curl of warmth in this foreign sea of grass that warmed her better than the fire pit had.
Even if most of the stars they perceived had actually died a long long time ago, they still shone bright, and Nile would make sure these stories Andy was telling her would live on. Just as much as Andy’s own.
She may have stopped searching for Neverland, but she thinks she might have found it anyways. After all, what did Peter Pan and his lost boys have on a 6000-year-old badass woman and two star-crossed Crusaders in love?
Nile settled on the grass, letting Andy make sense of the twinkling tapestry above them.
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singeramg · 4 years
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Midnight: Chapter 8
A/n: I am really kicking these out aren’t I? LOL Hope you enjoy reading
Pairing: Clark Kent/ Metahuman! Black! OFC
Rating: M
Warnings for chapter: ANGST, maybe even some tears idk? 
Catch Up Here!
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Midnight: Chapter 8
In the walk to the ship I had fallen asleep fairly quickly, as I was exhausted and against his chest I felt safe, but when I woke up in a bed. I was totally confused as to where I was. Had those men succeeded in getting me back?Had the team, Clark included all been a dream.  I did my best to let energy build on my hands, preparing for a fight. 
     “Whoa there cowgirl. You are safe here.”
I heard Arthur say as I realized I was not alone in the room. I sat up ignoring the pain in my lower abdomen as the recent events came rushing back. I groaned and looked at Arthur and Diana who were in the room with me.
    “Where are we? Where is Kalen? Is he safe?”
    “You are in Bruce’s mansion. You are safe Kalen is safe. Bruce thought it might be better if he and his caretaker were not here.” Diana tells me with a look of concern on her face. 
I looked confused and my senses told me Clark was no longer in my immediate vicinity. 
   “ Wait where did he take my son?”
    “He just had Alfred take them to another part of the property. Gia does he know?”
Diana asks softly, I pretend not to know what she was asking me.
   “Does who know what?”
Diana sits on the edge of my bed as Arthur leans on the wall with his arms crossed against his chest. The frustration is back but it is intertwined with concern and the compassion the rumors said he lacked. 
   “So you are going to sit there and act like you don’t know what we are talking about?” Arthur says.
I huffed in frustration. Ignoring the burning feeling of the raw skin where Clark had used his heat vision on me. I realized I had on some flimsy hospital gown. If I had enough energy I would shift into proper clothes, but I didn’t. 
  “I need some clothes.”
  “I think you are going to have much bigger problems than clothes if you don’t figure out how to tell Supes.” Says Arthur 
   “I’ll send him a thank you card.” The answer was flippant I knew. 
  “Gia!”
Arthur says angrily and I had the forethought not to jump at his voice, but I knew nervousness showed in my face. I lashed back out at him. It was a defense mechanism I was unfortunately good at.
  “Arthur! Now that we are done yelling each other’s names, can someone go get Ms. A and My son.”
 “You think whoever tried to basically kidnap you will stop?”
  “If we get away...”
  ��They shot you. Almost killed you. If I hadn’t shown up when I did you would be dead.”
I looked at my hands, unwilling to make eye contact.
  “And I thank you but I can’t stay and put my son at risk.”
  “He will never be more safe than he is right now. Arthur can you please retrieve her son?”
He grunts in confirmation and leaves me alone with Diana. She turns to me with a sincere look on her face.  I took note of her hair pulled back into a bun and she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a yellow top. I was jealous. I wanted clothes really badly. Being this naked left me feeling vulnerable.
    “Gia, I know this must be hard for you. I can hear how your heart is racing. I know we do not know each other well and maybe I am the last person you want to tell your secrets to, but I like you Gia. I want to help you. We all do, we cannot help you if you won’t admit the truth.”
 “Diana I appreciate your offer but I can’t stay here. Everyone has their life and we have ours. I cannot let my past catch up with us.”
  “You know as well as I do that Clark will not let anyone hurt you. Neither will we, you are on the team now. Now I’m going to ask you a very direct question, and while the answer is obvious I need a yes or no.”
I shook my head to let her know I understood the instructions.
 “Is Kalen, Kal- El’s son?”
Before I knew it I was crying again and I hated that I looked and felt so weak. 
  “Diana, he can’t know. He was happy with Lois. He will think I can’t protect him. He is going to take him away. I...I just...”
I broke down sobbing into My hands, Diana moved closer, pulling me into her arms. 
  “I promise you that I won’t let that happen. You protected your son to almost your dying breath. Everyone including Kal saw that, I think you will be able to come to a solution about this. No matter what happens everything will be okay. I know there may be some shame in being with Clark while he was in a relationship, and while it is something I didn’t think he would do, that’s okay too. The past...”
    “Wait stop Diana. Clark is still the same guy you thought of him. He and Lois were not together at the time, I am many things. A home wrecker is not one of them, furthermore the  reason why we need to leave. I can’t impress a child on their relationship. At some point in my life, I considered Lois a friend, I can’t come in and ask her to play Step-mother. This is why I need to go...”
    “I apologize for my assumption.” She says and means it.
   “It’s okay it was a logical assumption but please help me get out of here.”
   “Kal-El will only look for you if you go. He will be back soon I imagine. He and Bruce went to figure out who sent those men to attack you. He was not very happy when he left. He made sure you were safe on the plane and he went home to change. I however will bring you some clothes. Gia he deserves to know.”
She quickly goes out of the room, the clothing must not have been far because she came in with some jeans and a deep purple cap sleeved shirt. I knew my hair had to be a mess of dark curls. The elastic holder had long since disappeared. A quick and hot second shower freed me of any lingering debris and dirt and I dressed in the clothes that Diana provided me. 
I was rubbing a towel on my hair that I was forced to wash when my door opened and a ball of energy came flying into my legs. Followed by Ms. Alphonse. Tears in her eyes she hugs me as well, then pops my arm like my mom used to do when I was a child. While the memories were fond, the pain was not. I rubbed the sore spot and looked at her afraid she would just hit me again.
   “Tiffany or should I say Gia. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
   “I know Ms. A. I promise you at least that much. I will tell you what I can about me and Kalen as soon as we get out of here.”
   “And go where Child? I’ve got a feeling if Kyle’s...sorry I mean Kalen’s father is who I think it is you won’t get very far.”
“Mommy!!!!!” Kalen pulls at the bottom of my shirt until I bend down to pick him up. 
“Should you be doing that?”
I looked at Ms. A and hugged my baby tight to me. I ignored that maybe she was right, I needed to hold him. 
“Mama’ you feel better?”
“Yes mama is okay. Are you hungry? Are you okay?”
“You said we can eat Ice cream!”
I looked at him and he didn’t seem to answer my question, but his mood was fine.
“I am sure my friend has some ice cream here somewhere. Let’s go find Alfred.”
I kissed him on the cheek and sat him down on the ground and he grabbed my hand. I noticed Arthur in the doorway.
“Kalen did my friend introduce himself to you?”
“He looks mean” he says quietly, Arthur hides a smirk.
“He’s a friend of mommy’s. He’s not going to mean to you if you are nice to him.”
I led him forward stopping in front of Arthur.
“Baby, this is Mr. Arthur.”
Arthur’s face softens, and he comes down to my sons level, a smile on his face.
“ I’m usually only mean to the bad guys. Can I get a high five little buddy?”
He holds his hand up and Kalen reluctantly smacks it . Arthur pretends to be hurt, grabbing his hand as if in pain.
“Whoa little man, you are strong! Gia, you are you sure he is only 3!”
He says with dramatics but he also looks at me. The unspoken words being that his obviously abnormal strength was furthermore proof of his paternal parentage. 
“Mommy he doesn’t look like the Arthur on TV.”
I laughed and Arthur looked at me confused.
“Kalen he is not the same Arthur from your TV show.”
I looked at Arthur who had now stood back up and looked confused.
“He thinks you are supposed to be Arthur the Aardvark.”
“Oh, well I think I’m cooler than an aardvark. More like a fish. We will go to the beach one day and I’ll show you a buncha cool stuff that I can only show my friends. You are my friend right?”
My son nods happily.
“Alright my man! Let’s go raid the kitchen. I’m sure Barry is down there somewhere with the good stuff.”
We followed him down the hallway to the large  sitting room where Victor and Diana were chatting with Alfred. Barry was lounging with a large sandwich and his feet up. 
“Hi everyone. I have some very important people I’d like for you to meet if you haven’t already. This is Sarah Alphonse, she has been instrumental in helping me with little man here.”
Ms. A. Smiles at everyone in the room and walks over to have a seat on one of the large couches in the room. 
  “And speaking of the little man, everyone this is my son, Kalen.”
Barry’s eyes got big and I was under the assumption that he hadn’t actually seen my son up close. Diana simply waved at the little boy.
He waved back clearly having remembered her from the plane ride. He took one look at Victor and to his credit he didn’t scream, he only moved behind my legs, peaking from behind them. 
  “Kalen this is Mr. Victor. He helps mommy when she needs to get the bad guys. He’s kinda like a transformer and a computer all in one.”
  “So he a robot?”
 “He’s A PERSON that just can do really awesome stuff with computers and looks really cool too. Mr. Victor is pretty darn awesome himself, Can you say to him for me?”
He comes behind my legs slightly and Victor leans forward but otherwise lets Kalen come to him. He reaches out slowly once Kalen is close enough and Kalen reaches up touches the metal of his hand. Victor makes a fist and they bump in a cool way and Kalen smiles at Victor. 
I could feel Victors relief to be able to interact with a small child and not have him run screaming. 
 “BooYah!” Victor says and my son picks up in that instantly
  “Boo ya! Boo ya!!”
We all laugh at his innocent excitement. I take note his eyes are no longer brown like mine but have reverted back to their natural blue.
 “So guys little bro was promised some ice cream, Alfred my man do you think we could find some for him?”
  “Of course Mr. Curry. Would young Mr. Smith and Ms. Alphonse like to accompany me to pick some out? Mr. Wayne likes to keep a few flavors in the house for his ‘cheat day’”
We all laughed at Alfred’s little reveal about the stoic man that he basically raised. 
 “Come on young man they might have some candy too!”
He cheers and takes off in a run behind her and Alfred.
  “Please Don't let him have too much sugar!”
I yell behind them, but I know it’s a moot point. 
That leaves the team to look at me.
 “So am I crazy or does that kid look like A mini, tan...”
I cut Barry off before he could finish his sentence with a raised hand.
 “He looks like the father that does not know about him Barry. It’s complicated and I’m scared as shit. Diana here has convinced me to come clean. I think this a terrible idea, but I will pull him aside whenever he and Bruce come back. If he doesn’t come back here, I’ll drive out to Smallville. I just want to ease this on him. It’s delicate...”
I am interrupted by a door opening to my left. 
  “Recon proved unsuccessful. I’ll start gathering surveillance.”
Bruce says as he comes into the room, removing his cowl and still frowning. He looks at me standing there and maybe he is even surprised I am up. He doesn’t let in linger however. 
 “Gia. It’s good to find you awake.”
 “Thank you for coming to save me Bruce.”
 “Glad I could be of service. Have they told you where your son is?”
“Yes he is raiding your cheat day ice cream as we speak.”
“Good. I assumed that it was best to keep him away while you healed and had a chance to explain.”
 “Everyone else has had a very brief explanation, one that they can explain to you. I am not fond of repeating myself. Where is Clark?”
I said really hoping Bruce wasn’t about to try and check me about not telling any of them about my dalliance with Clark. It really wasn’t any of their business. He seemed to have enough sense to back off of the subject anyway. 
  “He went to the room you were in to check on  you. I guess since you are here, he will be in, in about...”
At that moment Clark comes back in the room, still in full Superman Regalia. His eyes softened the moment they saw me.
  “Gia I was worried when I couldn’t find you in your room. Why are you up and moving already?”  He furrows his brows (a habit he had developed for his confusion) 
  “I am fine Clark.” 
He comes closer, his arms pulling me into a hug which I resisted. I could feel his disappointment at my lack of interaction. 
  “I don’t know about that. I literally just cauterized an internal bleed less than a few hours ago. I think you ought to come lay back down.”
He keeps one arm wrapped around me, a sort of one armed hug as he tried to usher me out the door. I pulled away.
  “I said I am fine Clark. I don’t want to sit down or lay down. We, however, should talk.”
I motioned between the two of us. 
  “I agree Gia. I need to change out of this but we should talk...without the eyes.”
He motions to the other members on the team, and smirks at me. Innocent enough that I almost tear up. This could be the last time I see this directed toward me, a sort of warm fondness envelops me. 
 “Let’s go back to my room.”
Clark laughs at how I begin to push him toward the door, he moves because he wants to, not because I can move him under any power of my own. 
 “Forever the pushy one now this is the Gia I remember.”
 “Omg just move it Kent.”
We were almost to the door leading to the hallway, when the doors on the opposite side of the room opened and Kalen came running at my legs, full speed, I picked him up despite the burn to my side. I forced a smile on my face while my heartbeat I knew Clark could hear went wild.
 “Momma! Momma! They had the bestest ice cream here! They have the Star Wars kind! I ate’d it and Mr. Alfred let me have some gummy bears too!”
I swung him around noting that the Sugar High he had was just getting started, and kissed his cheek, looking at only his face, because I knew shit was about to hit the fan as soon as I looked up. 
 “That is Good Baby. I told you that you would get your ice cream for being a good boy.”
It was then that Kalen finally looked beyond me and to the two new additions to the room. The excitement mixed with trepidation as they landed on the man closest to me. I finally looked up at Clark, and when I did. It was the first time he made eye contact with his son. The emotions felt like a punch in the gut.
Confusion and fear are the most prominent. The fear from Clark was new to me. He was never scared, I didn’t even feel fear from him when he flew that spear into the Zod-monster.
“Momma is that the man from the tv? Supa’man?”
He points to Clark who I have yet to see breathe. Clark is only staring at him, taking a few steps back from where the two of us stood.
The rest of the room follows the same suit as him, holding their breath as they await something to happen.
I push his hand down.
  “Baby, What did momma say about pointing at people?”
  “It not nice. I rude if I points. But momma that’s Supa’man!”
He starts bouncing in my arms excitedly. 
  “Sorry everyone. You guys know When Superman passed they did and still do a lot of specials about the people he has saved, plus on the kids shows they animated him, talked about him. They even did a whole special about his death and what it means. He became a big fan.”
I looked at my son whose eyes were lit up still their natural blue. He had the biggest smile on his face as he worked around trying to get down. Little did he know I was using him a life jacket. He was the only thing keeping me grounded. 
  “Ummm yeah baby that’s Superman, but you still can’t point at him.”
  “Can’ts I say hi? You put me down momma?”
I kiss his cheek, he wipes it off, not wanting to be seen getting a kiss from his mother in front of Superman.
 “Ummm I can but please be the polite young man I know you can be?”
I let him slide down and I watch as he takes the steps over to Clark, which were a lot calmer than I thought they would be. Clark wastes no time dropping to his knee in front of the little boy.
“Momma says you are Su’paman.”
Clark opens his mouth to speak and at first his voice is only a whisper, as clearly his is clogged. He was choked up and I couldn’t blame him.
“Your mother would be right. I am Superman. What is your name?”
 “My name is Kalen Jo-seph Smith! You have a cool cape Mr. Supa’man! It’s my favorite color!”
 “What color is that Kalen?” I offer trying to smooth the interaction.
 “Red!” I smile at his child's excitement.
 “Wow! I like that color too. How old are you Kalen?” Clark says
  “I’m 3 and a half years old!”
Clark doesn’t look at me, but I know he was confirming the timeline in his mind by Kalen’s age. I had my hand near my mouth already, the other arm wrapped around my torso, trying to disappear. I knew I couldn’t go invisible, not with my son in the room.
 “Wow you are such a big boy! Strong little man too I bet.” Clark says with a wide smile, though his emotions were still a mix of shock, fear, and worry.
 “Yeah man you should feel little dudes high five. Lil man is going to be catching trains just like you someday.”
Arthur says with a joke to soften the tension in the room and my Kalen feels even better. Something I was grateful for. It was short-lived because it triggered my son to inadvertently change his hairstyle to match the short- straight cut and black that Clark currently had. 
Clark jumped slightly along with everyone else in the room, with the exception of Ms. A.I ran over to my son, picking him up again to which he was okay with because he was startled by Clark’s sudden movement. I smiled at the room hoping to show that my child wasn’t dangerous to anyone as everyone’s anxiety and nervousness shot up ten fold.
  “I guess I owe a small explanation to you all. My little Kalen here is special. He can change small things about his appearance. His eye color, his hair. The hair can be kind of funny, one time I came in the room it was long and blue. I imagine it will be bigger things as he grows into his powers. It’s the reason I only have trusted him with Ms. Alphonse. He doesn’t do it knowingly yet, which means he can’t control it.”
  “He has been able to do this since birth?” Bruce asks
  “Not immediately after. They had enough time to note his hair was dark brown and his eyes blue. It honestly didn’t start until he was about 6 months and it was only his eyes. Funny thing was I thought I was going crazy from lack of sleep. I finally broke down one day while trying to get him to stop crying because he had colic and Ms. A came to my door. She helped me so much with him since then. After a good night's rest, I took note that my child’s eyes were no longer like...( I was about to say Clark’s but stopped myself) they weren’t blue but brown. I was staring him in the eyes when they changed back as he lit up upon seeing me. Kalen just has gifts.”
 “Well I guess we should expect nothing less from your child.” Victor offers with a smirk. 
We all watched his hair go back to normal and I looked to Ms. Alphonse who stepped forward then I looked at my baby.
 “Alright little man. It’s getting kind of late, I think someone should start getting ready for bed.”
 “But mommy I don’t wanna. Superman is here! What if I go to sleeps and he goes away?”
      “Umm...”
I start to say, still not sure if Clark will have anything to do with us, but Clark steps forward and holds out his arms to take Kalen, who excitedly reaches for him. My eyes prick as Clark truly holds his son for the first time and I feel the full feeling of completeness and love I felt pouring out of him. My son hugs him back, just happy be hugging Superman. Clark finally pulls back to swing him to his side, Kalen basically sitting on his forearm, with a huge smile on his face.
   “Momma I’m taller than you now!”
“Yep you are! Someday will be that tall without a Superhero holding you, but for now, you are a little mini that needs to get ready for bed.”
   “Can Mr. Superman come with me?”
He asks and Clark who hadn’t stopped looking at his son since he appeared finally looked me in my face, eager as to what I would say.
  “Ummm... how about you get ready for bed with Ms. Alphonse and if he doesn’t get called away to save the world Mr. Superman will come up and read you a story.”
   “Don’t worry Kalen the world will wait when it comes to you. I’ll come read you any story you want.”
Kalen almost squeals he’s so excited and Clark sits him down on the ground excitedly.
Alfred comes over to Ms. A.
  “Let me show you to some guest rooms on this side of the wing.” 
Clark stands back up after sitting Kalen back in his own two feet, we both watch him leave with Ms. A. Once the door closes, he just looks at me. 
 “Ummm...I think I left a tea kettle somewhere in Hong Kong. I better go.” Barry takes off and I feel like I am about to fall apart at the intensity at which Clark stares at me. 
 “ I have to go do...something. Gia remember what I told you.”
Diana offers before leaving the room, Bruce and Victor begins after her.
“Yeah it’s getting pretty damn intense in here. I need a drink.”
Arthur says and follows the rest of the team out.
As soon as the door closes I get the strength to look Clark in his eyes again...
A/n: CLARK KNOWS! Now I can get into the meat of the story!
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Tag list for this is open so just let me know if you want in!
TAGLIST
@bloodyinspiredfuck​ @romyr4​
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Text
Without You
Rating: T
Genre: Fluff/Angst
Word count: 8569
Summary: Simon is severely injured and out of commission. Baz has trouble coping. Based on "you’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" request.
Read on AO3
AN: Heyyyyy, my peeps. Long time no fic. Long story short: I started antidepressants and they fucked with me hard. They wiped out of my energy for weeks, I could barely get out of bed. But now I've adjusted and I'm mostly back to myself, and I plan to get through the requests :D There's actually one request before this but that one was gonna take awhile so I thought I'd post this one first. I'm still iffy on some parts of this fic, but hey it's done. That's more than I can say for most of my writing recently lol. Hope you guys enjoy it :D. Disclaimer: Idk exactly how a coma of this length affects someone. Don't take what happens here as fact please.
———————————————
Baz
It starts as a normal day. (Well, as normal as mine can get.) Snow wakes me up at an ungodly hour, banging around like a frenetic ping pong ball. I growl and burrow deeper into my blanket pile. Why does he always insist on doing this? I swear, Snow forgets that other people exist in his little world.
He makes a particularly loud bang, equivalent to gun shot to my sensitive ears, and my patience snaps. I bolt upright and glare at his back.
“Would you keep it down?” I hiss. “Some of us actually want to sleep.”
Snow whips around so fast he nearly trips. I’m taken slightly aback. He looks like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I’ve never seen him so frantic and afraid. Even his breathing is strange, rapid and shallow. What could scare the Chosen One so badly?
“I gotta- I-I can’t,” he stutters, like the adorable numpty he is. Snow is bleeding magic, making the air feel thick and smokey. We stare at each other for a long drawn out moment. Then he just leaves, dashing away in a flurry of bronze hair and untucked clothing. I’m left in the rising dawn light, feeling thoroughly perplexed.
Is Snow okay? He looked so helplessly terrified. Part of me wants to run after him, ask him what’s wrong, maybe try to help. But I know he wouldn’t tell me anything. Actually, he’d probably yell his bloody head off at me.
“Whatever,” I groan, flopping back down. And I let myself drift back off to sleep.
———————————————
Boom!
BOOM!
The entire room shakes, flinging me back into consciousness. My eyes fly open and I bolt upright. Flecks of plaster rain down from the sky like a light dusting of snow. The stones are still vibrating slightly. Crowley and Merlin and Methuselah, what the ever loving fuck was that?! Has the Mage completely lost his mind and decided to test nuclear bombs on the Watford grounds? As if he needs another bomb with Snow-
Wait. What if... No, he’s the Chosen One, he’s fine. I don’t need to worry. He was probably just panicking like a moron earlier. That explosion was...fine. He’ll be okay...
Fucking hell.
I dash out from bed, throwing on my jumper and shoes terrifyingly fast. I grab my wand just in case. As I’m running down the steps, I wonder how I’m going to explain this, dashing towards Simon bloody Snow with a racing heart and fear in my eyes. But I don’t fucking care. He might be in danger. I can’t leave him alone, I can’t, I just can’t.
The second I’m outside, I see the towering smoke coming from the Great Lawn. It’s a massive plume blacking out the sky. My undead heart is roaring in my ears as I run towards the smoke, not caring about any fire within. When I reach the edge of the spot, all the breath leaves my lungs. Flames cover the grass, burning so bright my eyes hurt. In the middle of the inferno are two silhouettes. One is kneeling, and the other is laying limp on the ground. Maybe I’m imagining, maybe I’m terrified, maybe I’m just projecting, but I swear the person on the ground has a mass of dirty bronze curls.
I raise my wand up and yell, “make a wish!” The fire goes out with a rushing pop. Grey smoke still trails off the blackened ground. I wave through the thick cloud, focusing on the two silhouettes. And when I step through, my heart sinks right to the ground.
Simon Snow is on the ground, eyes closed, laying limp with his head on Bunce’s lap.
“What happened?” I ask, voice shakier than I want it to be.
Penelope Bunce’s head whips around. Her face is streaked in ash and tears, hair a tangled mess of fading purple. Unsurprisingly, she looks utterly shocked.
“Baz?” she says. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard the explosion, what else?” I snap. “What happened? Why was the Lawn on fire?”
Bunce glares at me, but I see the way her lip trembles. She rubs her forehead, streaking ash across her skin. “It was a group of ogres. Simon spotted them from his window then sent a messenger bird to me for help. Then we came here. They were under the Humdrum’s control, completely vicious. Simon and I couldn’t hold them off. He was getting tired and scared, so...”
A few tears fall down her cheeks. She places her hand over her mouth, trying to control her rapidly increasing breath, trying to say what I already know. There’s only one thing in the World of Mages that could’ve made such a concussive sound. And this time, I heard two.
I step forward, getting a clearer view. Snow is spread out across the ground like an exhausted starfish. Eyes closed, head lolling to the side, covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and ash. His sword is still laying on his open palm. I can hear his breathing and pulse with my vampire ears. Thank fucking Crowley, he’s still alive. But from the weak sound of both, I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper.
Bunce nods solemnly. “I tried to wake him up, but he’s out cold.” She sniffles, and I can’t help but feel bad for her. “Is this good enough for you, Basilton? Finally getting rid of the Chosen One like you want.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my mind and heart. I can’t lose control right now. I can’t react to her fiery but justified words. Not when Snow needs me.
Quick as lightning, I kneel down and scoop Simon up. I don’t go for a full on bridal carry, that’s a little too obvious. Instead, I sling him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his sword falling to the ground, arms hanging down my back. He’s incredibly light with my strength. I have to force myself to not think about how close he is right now. This is absolutely not the time and the place for that, dammit.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Bunce shouts, shooting to her feet.
“What does it look like?” I hiss. “I’m getting him to the nurse’s office.”
“Why would you do that?! You’re on opposite sides of a bloody war!”
Because I love him far more than my own reputation, I think. But I can’t say that out loud of course. I never can. “Because I don’t want the Mage to find a way to blame this on me and my family.”
I start speed walking across the grass before Bunce can respond. I don’t need more questions right now, I need to get Snow to help. His torso bumps against my back with every step. A stupid part of me hopes the simple vibrations and movement will wake him up. But he stays completely limp.
Crowley, Snow, if you die, I will kill you.
———————————————
“He went off twice?” Nurse Keswick asks Bunce. She nods, gripping Snow’s hand tight. He’s laying on the bed, wrapped tight in a blanket, hooked up to a heart monitor and breathing tubes in his nose. It beeps steadily, every blip reminding me he’s still alive. But his closed eyes and frozen body say he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Bunce is by his bedside while I lurk in a dark corner, though I desperately wish I could sit there too.
“Yeah,” Baz replies.”One right after another. I’ve never seen it before. The first time was like pulsing waves, but then the second was like...like a bloody nuclear bomb.” She squeezes his hand tighter. “His magic exploded out into a big dome with a mushroom cloud after. All the ogres were incinerated on the spot, along with a lot of the grass.”
Ms. Keswick nods along thoughtfully, making notes on her clipboard. “And he fell unconscious after the second one?”
Bunce’s face crumples in distress. “Yeah. I cleared most of the fire around us, then tried to wake him up with magic and just, y’know, shaking. Nothing worked.”
“I see. Any dizziness prior to today?”
“No.”
“Did any of the ogres hit him particularly hard?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Didn’t hit his head after going off again?”
“He was already unconscious before he hit the bloody ground,” Bunce snaps. Her brows pull together, matching her scowl. If I were Ms. Keswick, I would back away very slowly. Other than the Humdrum, the scariest thing in the Magical World is Penelope Bunce’s wrath. I know. I’ve been on the receiving end of it for years.
Ms. Keswick clears her throat and jots something down on her sheet. “Alright. Well, there isn’t anything physically or magically causing Mr. Snow’s unconsciousness. At least not normal magic. From what you said, it seems to be caused by an overexertion of power.”
“That’s not a thing,” I say coldly. Bunce glares at me over her shoulder, rightly assuming I’m just being my usual snarky arsehole self. But really I’m concerned Ms. Keswick is just making up a diagnosis because she doesn’t know what else to say. I don’t want Snow to suffer because of a wild guess.
“Not usually,” Ms. Keswick says slowly. “But Mr. Snow’s magic does tend to be unusual. He’s not like other mages. It’s very possible he used too much magic and...burnt himself out in a way. I just can’t tell you for sure.”
I scowl deeply. Bunce scoffs at me. I know what she thinks, that I’m upset he’s not fully dead. If only she knew how my entire world is shattering.
“Will he wake up?” Bunce asks.
Ms. Keswick’s eyes soften with sadness. She holds the clipboard to her chest. “I have to be honest, I don’t know. No spell is working. I think we just have to wait and see.”
Bunce’s face falls. It’s only because of my years of practice schooling my expression that I don’t look the same. My heart is beating so loud in my ears. I want to rush over and shake Snow awake. But that won’t do any good. Snow will stay asleep, possibly forever. I don’t even want to consider that.
The door bursts open with a bang so loud I jolt. The Mage stomps in, hand on his sword and fire in his eyes. He’s so enraged he walks right past me.
“What happened?!” he barks at Ms. Keswick and Bunce. Fucking prick.
“It was ogres,” Bunce says, sounding more than a little annoyed. “Sent by the Humdrum. Simon went off twice and passed out. I tried to wake him up but nothing worked. Ms. Keswick says we just have to wait and see.”
The Mage looks even more furious. Bastard probably doesn’t like his favourite weapon being out of commission. “Have you tried every spell, Ms. Keswick?”
“Yes, I have,” she replies. I commend her for staying calm in the face of his anger.
“I doubt that. I will try myself. Everyone leave.” He looks right at me, eyes thin blue slits. “That includes you, Mr. Pitch. I don’t even want to know why you’re here.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Neither I nor the Families had anything to do with this.”
“I never said that.”
“You never had to.” I push off the wall, hands linked behind my back. “I’ll be taking my leave.”
The Mage nods stiffly. He turns back to Bunce and Ms. Keswick. “As should everyone else, like I requested.”
Ms. Keswick nods and walks towards her office. Bunce frowns as she goes out the exit. I follow behind her. Before we leave, I glance over my shoulder, looking at Snow’s face one last time. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to see him again.
Bunce and I walk down the hall together, me a few steps behind her. She’s stomping so hard it rattles the floorboards. If she weren’t here, I would be doing the same. I’m so damn frustrated. None of us have any idea what is going on, none of us can seem to help, and Snow is just stuck there, unable to wake up. I’m quite used to feeling helpless when it comes to Snow, but this is far worse.
“Hey.” Bunce stops and turns around. Her mouth is thin line and her voice has an edge. I cross my arms, awaiting a verbal lashing. “It feels weird to say this, but...thanks, for getting him here.”
Well, didn’t expect that. I hope Bunce can’t see the small smile on my lips. I do have a reputation. “You’re welcome. I must say, I’m surprised to hear that from you.”
“Yeah, so am I,” she chuckles in morose sort of way, rubbing up and down her arm. “I know you didn’t do it for any altruistic reasons, but still, it’s good you did it anyway. Though this doesn’t change anything.”
“I know.” She nods, then turns around and walks away. I stand still for a long moment, trying to recollect myself. I know exactly what you still think of me, Bunce. What Snow will still think of me when he wakes up. If he wakes up...
I press the heels of my hands hard into my eyes. Pitches don’t cry, dammit. I take a deep breath and recollect myself. It will be okay. It has to be. Otherwise, well, I don’t know what I’ll do.
———————————————
It’s been fourteen whole days, and Snow still hasn’t woken up. I’ve tried to ignore the anxiety that fears to it’s way through my stomach, but it gets worse with every passing second. During the day I hide it well, going about my business as usual. But at night, I spend hours laying awake, just staring at his empty bed. Having Snow there was torture, but him not being there is absolute fucking hell.
“Do you think the Chosen One is really out of commission for good?” Niall asks through his sandwich.
“Who knows,” Dev replies. “Either way, the Mage’s side is shitting their pants in fear now that their favourite weapon is gone. The Families are elated.”
Crack. Niall and Dev both jolt. Fuck. My knife nearly made it through the plate and onto the table. I could’ve goen further. Damn vampire strength. I put my utensils down calmly and pick up my teacup. “Yes,” I say evenly, “they definitely are. My father and aunt sent word that they are quite pleased.”
Luckily, both of them act like nothing happened. Good men. Niall nods as he eats his salad. “They’re finally off our backs, and we didn’t even have to do anything.”
“Very true.” I push at a piece of chicken a bit too hard, nearly sending it off my slightly cracked plate. But I quickly regain my control. “So who do you think is going to win the FA cup this year, gentlemen? My money is on Manchester.”
Dev scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You always say that. I’m betting on Liverpool.”
“And you always say that!” Niall points at him like it’s a devastating accusation, though we all know Dev’s incessant loyalty to Liverpool. My personal theory is that it’s just because he loves the Beatles.
He and Niall start arguing about the ability of football clubs, and I just sit back. I don’t have the energy for a rousing football debate. Or anything else really. It feels like every ounce of myself is going into worrying about Snow. There’s nothing left for the rest of my life.
We finish lunch, and I pretend I’m going to the library. But the second Dev and Niall are out of sight, I walk towards to the infirmary. I’ve been trying to get there since that first day, but Bunce is by his side almost every bloody hour. She would yell my ear off if I showed up. One thank you does not a friendship make. But I want to see Snow, dammit. And I know for a fact Bunce has a major test this period, while mine is totally free.
Just as I’m turning the corner, I run head on into someone. We both yell as we fall on the floor. Once my vision comes back into focus, I look up, and meet a pair of wide brown eyes.
“Oh, hello Baz,” Agatha says nervously. “What...what are you doing here?”
I gulp down the small lump in my throat and recollect myself. “I could ask the same of you, Wellbelove.”
She starts collecting her books, staring intently at the ground. “It’s my free period, and I’m going to see Simon.”
“I thought you two broke up.” Agatha freezes up. I wince slightly at my own sharp words. I didn’t mean to be that harsh. But part of me is still angry at her for hurting him. They’re disgustingly cute relationship was agony for me, but Snow was happy. That’s what matters.
Wellbelove sighs, standing with her back straight. I do the same, clutching my bookbag strap tight. “Yes, we did break up a few weeks ago. But I still care for him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Snow believes that.”
She nods in a strange, solemn way. “No, I don’t think he does. But I do. I just couldn’t be what he wanted. Simon wants me to be his happy ending, the person waiting for him when all this insanity is over. I want to be someone’s right now.”
My annoyance dissipates, and I feel like a right prick. I clear my throat and look down at the floor. “I see. That’s...understandable.”
“I’m glad you get it. Simon didn’t.” I raise my eyes slightly. Agatha is gazing at the door in a forlorn sort of way. Like a gothic heroine gazing out from her balcony. “I know I did the right thing, but it was hard.”
“Most right things are.” And so are the wrong things, as I’ve learned from experience. They just tear you apart inside in a whole different way.
“Too true.” She smiles slightly. “But I’m glad I did. It was worth the risk. I’m happier now. I only wish Simon was awake so we could at least try to make up. I don’t want to lose him even more.” Her bottom lip trembles, and even though we aren’t even close to friends, it still breaks my heart. “I just want him to be okay.”
My chest feels tight at her words. Before I can stop myself, I’m nodding, and I can feel my face fall slightly, my sorrow bleeding through. I quickly school my expression and straighten up. But Agatha is looking at me, first with shock, and it slowly fades to pity. It stabs me in the gut so sharply I immediately look away. Yes, I’m pathetic, but no one needs to know.
I clear my throat and look away. “I should go. Studying, and all that.”
“Right.” She smiles softly. I can’t tell if she’s being kind because I’m so pitiful, or just because she’s nice. I don’t want to find out. So I turn my back and walk away. Snow is still stuck in that room. It’s stupidly poetic and over dramatic, but if I have a heart, it’s stuck there along with him.
———————————————
I’ve been frozen for hours. I just keep staring across the room, staring at his bed.
It’s still a complete mess. At first I didn’t want to touch his things because I prefer not getting my ear yelled off when Snow comes back. Now I can’t bear to do it, to erase the most obvious sign of his presence. Looking at the crumpled sheets reminds me he used to be here. He was here, where I could make sure he was alive and okay.
He’s still alive, you dolt, my rational brain reminds me. But not in any way that really counts. I want him to be laughing, snarling, yelling, living his damn life. He should be here. It’s not fair. Simon Snow doesn’t deserve to be in a coma.
What I wouldn’t give for him to wake up.
What I wouldn’t give to have him in my arms.
I didn’t get to see him yesterday. And I feel like if I don’t right now, I’m going to catch fire and burn to a crisp.
I throw my quilt off and swing my legs over the side. I don’t even bother putting on shoes. After slowly descending the stairs of Mummer’s house, I tiptoe through the halls. Luckily, I’m very good at being totally silent while sneaking through Watford. It finally pays off to be like a ghost.
Eventually, I reach the nurse’s office. I press my sensitive ear to the door. There are no footsteps, no muttering, no sound except that incessant beeping I remember. With a shaky hand, I turn the brass knob, and step inside.
The moonlight pours in through the window, a silver stream perfectly illuminating the bed. I cautiously walk forward. Every step feels like I’m walking on knives. Snow is still there, obviously, a perfect sleeping statue. But he looks so different. That’s probably because he’s lost quite a bit of weight. A feeding tube can only do so much, I suppose. His cheekbones are more prominent, pushing through his pretty face. His skin looks paler too. It’s lost a lot of its golden luster, more of a pale yellow now. He looks so...empty. My undead heart shatters.
There’s a chair next to the bed. I suppose that’s where Bunce has been spending every minute she can. I sit down slowly, like it’ll bite me  I want to touch him. I want to feel his skin, just in case I may never be able to again. But I hold back.
“Hello, Snow,” I say, unsure if I’m really talking to him or myself. “You’ve been here for quite awhile, huh? The window isn’t open. You’re probably overheating, you human furnace.”
I’m not an idiot, I know he’s going to wake up just because I’m talking. But how I wish his stupid blue eyes would open right now. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I reach out and lightly brush the back of his hand. Crowley, his skin is colder than his namesake. A choked sound is wrenched from my throat.
“You moron,” I hiss, “how could you go off like that unprepared? Just bring your stupid sword to fight an entire pack of ogres? Bunce was there, I know, but you two were still not enough. You should’ve thought it through more. You should have...” I take a deep breath, holding back tears. “You should have asked for my help. I could have protected you.”
My mind goes back to Wellbelove’s words. How she was scared, yet took the risk anyway to be happier. I wish I could be that brave. And...maybe I could, at least while he sleeps.
I swipe my thumb over the back of his hand, feeling every single bone in it. “You never would’ve asked me though, because you still think I hate you. But the truth is, I don’t, Snow. Not in the way you think.” I hold him tighter, tighter than I ever have before. Wet drops slide down my cheeks. Fuck, I really am pathetic. I’m a stupid blubbering mess, all over this ridiculous, brave boy. “I despise what you do to me, but I can’t despise you, Simon. You’re too strong, too clever, too incredible to hate. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, so much better than my horrible undead arse. You don’t deserve to be stuck here.” I press my fingers harder into his chilly palm. It’s all I can do to keep from falling apart.
“I know you’ve never listened to me once in our years living together, but I hope you make an exception this time. Please, wake up. The World of Mages needs you. I need you. I can’t bear to imagine a world without you in it. I don’t care if you still hate me forever. You should get to live and have your happy ending.” I reach forward and brush away a tangled mess of curls from his forehead. Because I’m a constant disappointment to myself.
“I hope you wake up, because you’re the best thing in existence. And because...” I take a deep, powerful breath, pushing the words out of that deep dark place I’ve hidden them for years. “Because I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with you, Simon Snow. And losing you would be worse than dying again.” I lightly brush his cheek, barely touching him, but it’s enough. “So wake up, you bloody numpty. You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.” My voice cracks. I fall forward, pressing my tear filled eyes on my hand. “You can’t leave me yet.”
My breaths come out shaky, like a rattling old air conditioner. I haven’t let myself cry these entire two weeks, holding in every ounce of horrible, tangled despir. But they fly freely now, streaking down my cheeks. I can’t live without Snow. He’s my hopeless love, my stupid reason to live, my sun. If I’m not crashing into him, what am I doing? I’ve considered dying by his hand, but never him going before me. I can’t lose him. I don’t how to lose him and not lose what little is left of my soul as well.
A weight falls on top of my head. It’s cold, bony, and splays out over my head. A hand. I bolt upright, and I’m immediately met with plain blue eyes and a soft smile, like it takes Atlas level amounts of effort to just to pull his mouth up.
“Hi,” Snow says, voice raspy from disuse, yet somehow still the most beautiful sound.
I stare at him slack jawed for a stupid amount of time. I swear, my brain has turn to thick gruel. Simon Snow is awake, looking at me, smiling. He’s okay. And I’m holding his hand.
Immediately, I shoot back, sitting up ramrod straight, hand very far away from his. I probably look like a panicked deer. “Hello, Snow. You’re up. I’ll...go get Bunce. She’ll be very thrilled.”
I start to stand up, but the slightest brush from chilly fingers, and I freeze. I look over my shoulder. Snow is frowning in this pouty puppy dog way. He looks so unbelievably vulnerable and scared.
“Baz,” he wheezes, “don’t leave me alone, please.”
Crowley, did he really have to say that? It sends a sharp pain directly through my chest. I immediately fall back into the chair. “Okay, I won’t.”
He smiles again, making me almost sigh with relief. “How are you feeling?” I ask. I hope he doesn’t notice I’m shaking like a leaf.
“Like shit,” he chuckles. It brings a laugh out of me too, small and breathy.
“Laying in bed for two weeks will do that, Snow.”
“Yeah, true enough.” He takes a rattling breath. “I thought Penny would be the one here when I woke up. She’s been here a lot.”
My eyes widen slightly. “You know that?”
He nods slowly and winces. It obviously hurts him to move. “Yeah. After a few days, I could hear everything, I just couldn’t, y’know, open my eyes or move.”
Oh fuck. I can feel whatever little blood I have rush to my face. I hope it’s not too noticeable. There’s only so much embarrassment I can take before I explode. “Oh...everything?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah,” Snow sighs, “everything.”
He turns his head towards me. I see his wince again. I start to reach forward, like I want to what, comfort him. No, I’m not allowed to do that. I’ve never been allowed. Why the fuck do I think I can? Snow looks at my hand strangely, between confused and awestruck I think. I quickly pull my hand back into my lap.
“Sorry,” I whisper, looking very pointedly down.
“Baz, I-I told you, I heard you.” His eyes narrow slightly, as much as he can right now. “But this isn’t some plot, right?”
My blood starts to boil and a scowl nearly split my face in two. Of course in his own mind, it’s reasonable for him to ask. But I just poured out what’s left of my pathetic heart to him, even though I thought he couldn’t hear. It was the most truthful I’ve ever been in my life. And he thought I was lying.
I push my chair away. “Well, I won’t bother you with anymore of my plots. I’ll go get Bunce or Nurse Keswick now.”
“No, Baz, wait!” Snow sits up, and immediately starts coughing. His entire body convulses with the force of them. I’m immediately standing at his side
“Don’t get up, Snow.” I gently hold his upper arms and help lower him back onto the sheets. My thumbs press right into his humerus. Crowley, he really is all skin and bones right now. It hurts me in such a horrific way.
He gestures to the cup of water on the bedside table. I immediately pick it up and bring the straw to his cracked lips. Snow drinks deeply, shoulders relaxing. He ends up drinking the entire thing, then falls back on the bed. I put the cup down and sit, all thoughts of leaving obviously out the window.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just, I had to ask. I heard it all, but part of me just...can’t believe it.” Our eyes meet, and a shiver runs down my spine. “I never knew you felt like that.”
I stare at my lap, fiddling with my shaky fingers. The world is closing in, shrinking to just me, the lonely lovesick vampire who has never dealt with his feelings. Except Snow is here too. And a part of me wants him here, and another part desperately can’t handle him right now. Snow overwhelms me, always has. He rids my brain of any logical thought. It’s horrible, and I love it. Just like him.
“I made sure you didn’t,” I whisper. “I made sure no one did.”
“Yeah, I kinda guessed that.” He smiles softly again. No matter how weak he is, it’s still such a pretty smile. “For how long?”
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut. I hope I don’t look too ridiculous “A long time, Snow. Almost since we met.”
I look up slightly. Snow’s eyes are bigger than saucer plates and his lips are slightly parted. Part of my brain supplies an intense image of my tongue between those lips, tracing the inside of his mouth, feeling every crevice. He just woke up from a coma, Basil, get a hold of yourself.
“That’s...a long time...”
I snort in a very undignified way. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“You don’t need to be an arse,” he mumbles.
“I do when you state the absolutely obvious.”
He pouts in that ridiculously adorable way again. Snow really is a giant, sword wielding, explosive puppy dog. “Why do you always go for the lowest blow? Especially if you...care about me like that.”
I gulp. Did the coma make him more articulate somehow? Maybe it rattled some of his brains loose. “Because I’m not supposed to. You know that, Snow. We’re enemies.”
“But what if I like this better?” He blurts out. His cheeks immediately go rosy pink, body a bit too iron deficient for bright scarlet.
My eyebrows furrow together. “What is this?”
“This. What we’re doing right now. Talking, being nice, not being arseholes. And,” he smiles sheepishly like a cheeky schoolboy, “I liked what you had to say, before I woke up.”
My first reaction is to blush. And my second is to scoff and stare at the wall, which is boring, but at least not his beautiful face. “Like having your ego stroked, Snow?”
The room is completely silent for a few long, drawn out seconds. I keep my eyes on the stone wall, analysing every line of mortar. Anything to not look at him. But then I feel something tepid brush over my hand, making my whole body jolt. Snow’s fingers are laying atop mine. It’s something I’ve wanted for so many years. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
“I thought about you.”
My eyebrows shoot all the way up to my hairline. “What?”
He keeps smiling, like that’s an answer. “While I was stuck here, I thought about what you were doing.
“You mean what I was plotting?”
“Yeah. And I missed you.”
I scoff, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. “Sure, Snow.”
I keep looking at the wall, though I can’t bear to remove my hand from under his. But suddenly, I feel something slowly curl around my long fingers. I whip my head around. Snow is actually holding my hand, even after I insulted him. And when I look up, he still has that smile, despite how much strain it obviously causes him.
“You called me Simon before,” he says.
Surprisingly, it makes me laugh. Because he’s just so ridiculous, and adorable. “That’s what you care about?”
“Uh-huh. I like when you call me Simon. I like you being here, just the two of us. I like all of this better than us fighting.”
Merlin and Morgana, this is too good to be true. Simon Snow is awake, and he knows how I feel, and he likes this better than fighting. I don’t know what to do. My brain is overloaded with information and emotion, and I don’t deal well with the latter. I need to recollect myself before I do something irreversibly stupid.
Snow yawns loudly, mouth wide like a boa constrictor swallowing its prey. The analogy seems apt, honestly. I feel like Snow has swallowed me whole.
“You should rest, Snow,” I say. “You’re probably loopy from...something. Bunce will want to talk your ear off in the morning. Certainly have to have your strength for that.”
His fingers tighten on my hand. He’s so weak it’s barely a squeeze, but it makes me stay anyway. “You’re running away.”
How Snow says that so pathetically yet resolutely all at once is astounding. And it breaks my heart a bit more. “I just need to rest. And so do you.”
He frowns deeper. “Are you going to pretend that none of this happened? Make me feel crazy?”
Well, I had thought about it. But...I don’t think I can now. Not with the way Snow is looking at me with those big plain blue eyes. He destroys all my walls. He makes me feel so weak. I hate it, but I want to love it.
“How about,” I say slowly, “we talk later, when you’re not just emerging from a coma? Okay?”
Relief obviously washes over Snow. His weak body melts into the mattress. It’s good to see him relax. “Promise?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “What are you, five?”
“Please, Baz?” he asks, already drifting off to proper sleep.
Crowley, I am so weak. But maybe I really could learn to love it. I grip his hand tight, but not tight enough to hurt. His skin is warming up. He’s starting to feel like himself again. “I promise, Snow.”
He smiles as his eyes slide shut. He’s immediately asleep. Snow always looks beautiful, but smiling in his sleep, he looks positively angelic. Usually he’s curled up in a knot, whimpering and crying. But not tonight it seems.
I put his hand over his stomach, and exit the little nurse’s room. I walk back to my room in a daze. My brain is still playing catch up. Simon is awake. He’s coherent. He heard every stupid thing I had to say and he liked it. A grin spreads across my face, dopey in the best, most ridiculous way.
He’s okay. And maybe for the first time ever, so am I.
———————————————
It’s been another week and a half of Snow-less agony for me. He has to recover from quite a bit, I assume. An ogre fight, a massive going off, and a two week long coma is bound to do some damage. That’s all I know though. It’s not like Bunce is giving me daily updates on his condition. I want to go see him, desperately, but I also think he needs time to think. He needs to get his head on straight. I know he was worried I would pretend none of that night happened, but I’m more worried he will. Snow will get all his mental faculties back and pretend I never confessed my stupid undying love. Objectively, that would be best, I suppose. There’s no chance at all for us. Still, it would hurt.
“Baz? Baz? Baz are you listening?”
My head snaps up to see a very confused Dev and Niall. Shit, right, we’re supposed to be studying. There’s a test next week. A world still exists outside of Simon bloody Snow.
“Um, yes,” I say, looking back down at my extremely wordy textbook. “History of the first magical war, right. Who was the instigator?” I raise my head again, trying to look as bored and passive as my father. But both my friends still look monumentally concerned. I frown at them. “What?”
“You okay, mate?” Dev asks. “You’ve been off these past couple weeks.”
Niall nods. “Yeah, totally. Ever since the Chosen One went into a coma...”
Crowley, I hope I don’t have enough blood to blush. It keeps happening, and I hate my thoughts being out in the open. “Coincidence, my dear Niall. Finals stress has been a bastard.”
It’s an easy lie, a believable one, but a lie all the same. And unfortunately these boys have known me since I was in diapers. They look at each other briefly, then back at me, both with an expression of deadpan disbelief.
“Is it cause you actually put him in the coma?” Dev asks.
I immediately snap my pencil in half. Just one hard press of my thumb and the little stick is dismembered. Both Dev and Niall jolt. I can’t blame them, I would be shocked too. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and put the pencil down.
“Where,” I say slowly, carefully, “did you hear that?
“Um...around,” Niall replies. “People heard you were there when he went off. Some people are saying you egged him on until he blew up...”
I press my lips together and take another long, deep breath. I need to calm down before I explode. It makes sense, considering what I’ve let people think about me. But the fact that people think I’m responsible for hurting Snow, when I actually tried to save him, is so much more painful than I thought it would be. I don’t want people to think I hurt Simon. I no longer want to be known as his enemy. Crowley, I’m tired of being his enemy at all.
“Baz? You okay?”
I look up at them again. I’m not sure who said that, but both my friends look incredibly concerned. They’re good men, really, underneath all that sarcasm. I nod once.
“I’m alright,” I say, “and that’s not what happened. Snow went off on his own.”
“Okay,” Dev says. “Are you sure you’re alright though? You seem weird.”
“Yeah. I’ve just got a lot going on.”
Niall leans forward on his forearms, brows all scrunched together. “Y’know you can can tell us shit, right?”
I lightly drum my fingers on the table, creating a low rattling sound. I know he means well, but that’s not true. How could I tell them about Snow? How I’ve been in love with him for years? How I accidentally confessed and now he may want what I want? I can’t. Right?
“I know,” I say. “And I’ll tell you if there’s anything to tell.”
“Okay, good.”
Dev smiles, closed mouth and reserved, but there’s a genuine kindness in his face. “We’re always here for you, mate.”
Niall nods and smiles along with him. My eyes narrow slightly. Who are these people and what happened to Dev and Niall? They’re being too nice. We’re always arseholes to each other. They keep smiling. Maybe they’ve been hexed or something.
Or maybe...they know something.
No. No way. They haven’t possibly have figured it out. If they have, they would be yelling at me, they would hate me. That’s what I’ve always expected. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance it’ll be okay. Maybe I don’t need to be so terrified.
“Thanks,” I say slowly, then flip up my book, focusing intently on the little black words. They make my chaotic world melt away for a moment. My panic dips ever so slightly. Simon is awake, he’s okay. And for the first time ever, maybe I will be too.
———————————————
I’m laying on my bed, having my fifteenth existential crisis of the past three and a half weeks, when the door starts to open. I immediately bolt up like I’ve been electrocuted. It opens further, and every creak of old hinges sound like a thousand decibels to my ears. Soon, a tawny face peeks through, which makes my slow heartbeat skip. And when he smiles, it stops completely.
“Hey,” Snow says.
“Uh, hi. You’re back,” I say, like a useless idiot. Way to go, Basil.
“Yeah. They finally freed me.” He steps in, and I see the cane in his left hand. It’s dark red wood with a curved brass handle. It’s probably the most posh thing I’ve ever seen him with. He leans on it heavily as he walks in. His legs still look very shaky, like thin branches in the wind. He stumbles on the dip in the wood floor. Immediately I’m on my feet, rushing to his side. I catch his arms, and suddenly realise what the fuck I just did. My eyes meet Snow’s plain blue ones, wide and wondering. I have to actively stop myself from getting lost in them. We stare at each other as the seconds stretch out. I finally come back to my senses, then clear my throat and look away.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“Y-Yeah,” Snow says.
“Good.” I take a step away, putting a respectable distance between us.
Snow steps forward, still leaning more than slightly on his cane. He sits heavily on his bed with a sigh. I sit on my own, legs pressed together, hands in my lap. I probably look like my father, far too respectable and reserved to look normal. I feel like I’m one bad moment away from falling apart or jumping out the bloody window.
“How are you feeling?” I stare at the dark wood floor. I don’t think I can look at him right now.
“Better,” Simon says. “Penny’s been helping me with moving. My muscles got all funny after two weeks stuck in a bed. But I can walk now, at least with a cane. And I can eat solid foods, thankfully.”
I chuckle quietly. “Back to scones?”
“Soon, hopefully.” I flick my eyes up for a moment, and unfortunately see his big dopey grin. My dead body melts into a white hot puddle. Damn Snow for being so painfully adorable. I have to look down again before I really do defenestrate myself.
“That’s good for you, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
There’s another stretch of silence. Long, tension filled, agonizing silence. It makes want to eat my own skin. The image is horrifying but accurate. My tongue feels heavy and any ideas for a sentence is utterly idiotic. I’m not used to being at a complete loss for words. Is this how Snow feels all the time? It’s terrible. It gives me a new brand of sympathy for him.
“So,” both Snow and I say at the exact same time.
I look up, and he’s looking back. We stare for a moment, until Snow makes a very dignified snort. It’s like a high pitch hog. My eyes go very wide.
“Sorry,” he giggles. “Sorry.”
“Uh, it’s fine,” I say.
He keeps giggling and snorting. And it’s so stupidly ridiculous, that I laugh as well. I’m quieter and more controlled, as usual, but I’m still laughing. Snow makes a few more snorts, and it turns into a full blown howl. Head thrown back, hand pressed to his stomach. It’s so beautiful and free, so different from when he was in that bed. Before I know it, I’m howling too. It’s the loudest I’ve laughed in my entire undead life. Our sounds fill the tiny room so perfectly, and it’s absolutely glorious. Bloody hell, why haven’t I felt like this before? Why can’t I feel like this all the time?
Slowly, we start to calm down. The room returns to its usual tranquility, only the sound of birds outside the window accompanying us. Snow and I look at each other once more. He softly smiles, and I smile back.
“I still like this,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get the words out before he stumbles.
I fiddle with my shaking fingers. “Do we even know what this is, Snow?” He shrugs, making me roll my eyes. “Have you ever noticed half your sentences are shrugs?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I mean, I don’t know what this is yet. But I meant what I said before. Whatever this is, I really do like it better than fighting. Don’t you?”
I press my lips together, holding my tongue back before I say something stupid. Simon is still smiling, still looks hopeful. I know I shouldn’t want him, but every fibre of my being is crying out for Simon Snow. He offers out his hand, palm up, shaking ever so slightly. It’s so unbelievably kind, just like him.
“How can you even trust me? After everything?” I whisper harshly, because if I’m anything, I’m self destructive as fuck. Happiness and I aren’t allowed to mix, right?
“I’m not sure I fully do, but...” he shrugs and holds his hand out even farther, wiggling his fingers as much as he can. My pulse is faster than the speed of light.
Crowley, I hope I’m not doing something irrepreably idiotic.
Ignoring every sensible part of myself, I reach out and grab his hand.
Snow grins, brighter than the sun he resembles. He slowly laces our fingers together, probably waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. For once I don’t run away. I let myself take a risk, on the smallest off chance I can find happiness. With Simon Snow.
“I want this too,” I say before I get scared. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
Impossibly, Simon grins even harder. I’m going to go blind from his light. “I know.”
I raise a curious eyebrow. “How long have you wanted this?”
He shrugs, and I sigh in exasperation. “Yeah, sorry,” Snow giggles, “not the answer you’re hoping for, I guess.. I dunno when, Baz. I don’t really think about things I can’t do anything about. I just know that I want this now. That’s what matters, right?”
I sigh again, but tighten my grip on his hand. “Yeah, I suppose it is. I don’t know what we’re going to do though. There’s a lot in our way.”
“That’s been true about our whole lives, innit?”
I have to nod. “True enough.”
Simon stands up, legs buckling slightly. I grab his other arm and help him turn. He sits himself next to me, so close our legs press together. His warmth shoots up through my body, spreading like a wildfire. I’d gladly burn because of him.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says with complete confidence. “I’m the Mage’s Heir, you’re a Pitch. Between the two of us we can come up with something.”
Bloody hell. He’s so willing to just barrel forward with no plan. It’s ridiculous, yet oddly inspiring. Snow doesn’t need a plan. He just wants us to be happy. The frantic part of my mind can’t handle, overthinking and over-analyzing everything that could go wrong, which is a lot.
Simon keeps grinning. I feel warmer than I have in my entire life.
Fuck everything. I just want him.
“Okay,” I sigh.
Simon’s eyes widen. “Okay?”
“Okay, I’m in. You’re an idiot, but you can have...this, if you want.”
Now his perfect, pretty lips fall open, Crowley, is he trying to kill me? “Really?
I roll my eyes out of pure habit. “Do you have cotton in your ears? Yes, really, you nump-”
And then he kisses me.
The whole world comes to a screeching halt. I’m thrown into near catatonic shock, frozen as Simon bloody Snow pushes his scorching lips against mine. His right hand cups my cheek, calluses scratching my smooth skin in the best way. I’ve never known this kind of feeling. Literally. This is my first kiss. It’s warm, soft, and made a thousand times better because it’s him, Simon Snow. Simon Snow is my first kiss. He’s still kissing me.
I’m living a charmed life.
I stay frozen for longer than I should. Crowley, could I make it more bloody obvious I’m a kiss virgin? Eventually, I let my eyes flutter shut and raise a shaky hand to cup his cheek. It’s just as soft as his lips. I tilt my head ever so slightly, and so does Simon, slotting us together even more. He does this wonderful thing with his chin that makes my thoughts melt into putty. This can’t be happening.
Snow reaches back, brushing the nape of my neck, moving up to weave his fingers in my hair. Then he clenches his fist tight and jams our faces even closer together. I inhale sharply in shock.
Bloody hell, this is real.
I pull away a bit too suddenly. Snow blinks open his blurry, pupil blown eyes. His lips are red and swollen. Could he look anymore like an image from my dreams?
“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath. It’s amazing.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s just, well, you recently came out of a coma, and you’re still recovering. Maybe you shouldn’t be engaging in any...strenuous activities.”
Simon smiling and starts giggling. It’s utterly adorable. “Aw, you do care,” he says between snorts.
“Obviously.” I lean forward, tapping our foreheads together. It’s a stupidly romantic teen thing. I love it. “I care for you far too much, Simon.”
Snow slowly runs his thumb over my nape and brushes our noses together. “I care about you too. Definitely more than I thought I did.” He grabs my hand, putting it between us. “We’ll make this work, Baz. We’ve both gone through Hell. This will be a piece of cake.”
“And you do love cake.”
We chuckle together, holding each other’s faces, holding each other’s hands. There might be slightly less in our way than I thought, but there’s still a lot. But this is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m going to fight like hell for it. I think Snow will too.
“We can do this,” he sighs, hot breath caressing my cool skin.
I hold Simon tight. I almost lost him once. Never again. “We can.”
Snow and I sit there for a long while. And for the first time in my miserable unlife, I feel at peace.
———————————————
AN: Hope y'all enjoyed that :) Tbh I feel like this isn't my best work but I'm still proud of it. The fact that I was able to write at all was an achievement. Also I love angsty overthinking Baz lol, and the ending was super sweet imo. I hope to get back to more regular posting soon. Thanks for being patient. See you peeps again soon :)
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Museum of Mayhem Art Analysis
ahhh it’s finally here and it’s AWESOME. Lots of credit to @ifalnasminiatures for bringing this to my attention! Also credit to Hayder Hype for providing (nat zero six on gearbox forums) sources (Ashley Landry on twitter) in the description of his video because oh man it’s a lot
you can view most of these art pieces on the borderlands instagram as well
lots to talk about especially regarding the calypso twins so let us dive right in
tl;dr: tyreen has a weird red marking on her face in some old designs. i think troy used to be blind and missing his metal plates. more proof for my elpis/chemical sludge/lost legion theory that the twins are using said chemical sludge to give their followers psuedo-siren powers bc a dahl pumping station (hyperion pumping stations on pandora) but dahl had a presence on the moon
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one of my favorites, it reminds me a lot of the Mask of Mayhem, but for villains.
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Punk Girl is shown again twice, probably further proving she’s tied in with the CoV somehow
we also got some crazy looking villains such as
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baby face. which is all kinds of extremely fucked up
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this dude who looks like he could be a miniboss with the glasgow smile and the cool goggles
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this guy who i legitimately thought was dr zed for a hot second there
could it be
the evilest brother?? pfft nahhh
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this girl who seems like she could be a unique character with a baseball cap. wondering if maybe she’s related to Punk Girl in any way. What’s the verdict on the other band members? 🤔
uhh let’s give it a solid maybe and move on
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this piece! very interesting to me
so, the very first thing i noticed is zane’s eye patch being on the other eye lol
amara’s tattoos are also gone, however that might’ve been for reasons similar to the japanese cover art of the game. 
most interestingly is a point @ifalnasminiatures made and it’s that the calypso twins are actually palette swapped! you can see Troy is the one with the white hair and Ty is the one with the darker hair. which I think mayyy play into a few things we see later about the twins
we also see a tiny ship in the background. i can’t tell if that’s sanctuary-iii or the blue/yellow ship, it all blends together a lot due to the quality of the pic. but it is next to the calypso twins, which makes me want to believe it’s the blue/yellow ship we see with red markings all over it. you know this one from the mural of mayhem wallpapers
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you can see the reddish markings on the back right next to the engines
then we have ummm
this cover art
😬
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thanks for not using this one gearbox cuz 
oh my god
she just reminds me of suicide squad, that’s not a good image you wanna dredge up from the deep recesses of your fans’ brains
she might be a unique character given the clothes/hair? cuz you don’t normally see psychos with stilettos on. or yknow, shoes in general. the hair also seems way to clean and neat to be a psycho/cultist
i just feel uncomfortable looking at this, so moving on
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a different logo. also not my favorite cover art, but at least im not physically uncomfortable looking at this. that poor girl’s pelvis... anyway
lots of silhouettes
interestingly, i feel like the roses might have been a thing they just put in for the new cover art. haven’t seen hide nor hair of them across any of the pictures i’ve seen.
we got a lot of figures. out of them i most definitely recognized amara, salvador, maya, another salvador?, zer0, moze (maybe?), and axton. i thiiink one of them is maya as well, but im not 100% on that. 
i can guess why they didn’t pick this one: it’s hard to tell who’s who. a lot of these poses make the silhouettes kinda hard to see and the merging together at the bottom makes things even worse. i do think it’s interesting there are some bl2 characters on here as well, but hayder hype mentioned they very well could be placeholders, and given that i can’t make out fl4k or zane, im inclined to believe him.
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this art which was used during the promo for this event
rip elpis i guess LMAO
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a better look at the psycho himself from the promo released by the borderlands twitter.
there’s a new red planet which hasn’t been shown off before, looks like a gassy planet kinda like jupiter, but interestingly it has this green crack in the side?
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very reminiscent of pandora’s eridium scar. i am wondering if this is because this planet had a vault opened, or if it is tied to the Eridians at all. be interesting if it was their homeworld.
also i have no idea what the symbolism is in the homeworld destroying another planet but maybe we shouldn’t think about it too hard e_e
the other planet that’s being destroyed... idk fellas
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it doesn’t match up to me but like, this is only one shot
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i don’t know 🤔 if you really squint, maybe you can see that hint of purple at the bottom there?
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here
tbh, i thought this was elpis the first time i saw it due to the cracks, but i figured elpis doesn’t have like continents across its surface, just craters. and wayyy more cracks.
so it’s probably not pandora and it’s probably not elpis.
huh...
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i do think the actual shot is suspended above promethea, you can see the familiar asteroid belt surrounding it
there’s also a planet in the background,
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which i imagine isn’t pandora bc no eridian scar
could be elpis or eden-6, or the 5th planet we don’t know about. i kinda get the feeling the 5th planet may be that gaseous red planet tho. which is probably going to be super weird to traverse now that i think about it. they said oz kits weren’t coming back, right? i wonder how that would work. hmmmm
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there’s also this redder planet here which i actually DO think is Pandora. if you squint real hard u can see the purple from the eridian scar. plus the color matches up pretty well with the pictures provided above.
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there’s also these two bodies over in the corner where the light is coming from. i can’t tell what they’re supposed to be
there are also these little dudes in the top right
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i assume they’re maliwan? they remind me a lot of the maliwan drop ship things that fly overhead when you enter promethea
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YESSS okay this is the start of some PRETTY WILD twin stuff
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troy: missing his tattoos, blind in one eye, has a weird mark above his eyebrow. also, no metal bits!
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Tyreen!!! with a red stripe across her left cheek going up to her eye??? no tattoos on her left arm as far as we can see, but that might be for marketing reasons (she’s also covering up part of her bicep). she’s also missing her coat and chains and wearing a different glove.
we also have a bunch of bl2 VHs taking up space. again i think hayder hype is right in that they’re simply placeholders. not much else to say, but 
this trend of Tyreen having red markings on her face and Troy being blind in an eye (or both) actually continues through a fair amount of these posters!!!
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more cover art. one of my least favorites again... i just think it looks like the psycho is puking out the VHs. also, seems to be an older version of the psycho mask.
fl4k seems to be less rendered than the rest of the cast? like they have less detail, especially on their coat
also you can see an older looking space shuttle up at the top, which reminds me a lot of the one we use in TFTBL to get to helios. except less caravanny and more rockety
the splatter also reminds me of siren powers, with the purple and the glitter. it’s cool that it’s showing a different shot than what’s behind it. maybe a hint to siren powers because it’s sort of like a portal.
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more puke! 
this time troy is blind in both eyes it seems,
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tyreen seems to still have a mark on the left side of her face, im wondering if this ties into her scars at all? it doesn’t seem as prominent as the previous red mark.
Zane seems to have an actual eye patch instead of his more high-tech eye patch, which reminds me a lot of the leaked character concepts from like january i wanna say
amara seems to be dual wielding lol i wonder if originally that was going to be one of her 3 skills but then they were like “wait salvador. wait. nisha. FUC-”
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also fl4k is being obscured by this weird saturn-like planet. let them be free!
moze is missing, the saturn like planet shows up 2 times total, and that blue/yellow ship is seen again behind troy
as for the purple stuff? you already know my theory that the twins are going to be using the chemical sludge on elpis to empower their followers. it could also just be straight eridium/slag. you know, like the testing from the WEP with bloodwing and even krieg. we’ll have to see. it would be interesting if they tied krieg into the story through there.
i do lowkey think it’s chemical sludge though, because some of it is actually glowing blue in places, you can see it clearly below amara’s feet. maybe some tie in to siren powers cuz they glow the same blueish color. who knoooows not i
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big shot of this psycho here, looks like he’s crumbling. 
i really like the 4 VHs standing at the base with the elongated shadows. very dark vibes from this tho, probably not suitable for the series as a whole. i can see why maybe they decided not to do it. 
i wonder if we’ll see this giant psycho statue somewhere on pandora. it would certainly be a sight to behold. 
also i kinda wish we had cloaks like the concept art shows. cloaks are cool
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more sketchy art. this one is also kinda strange, i definitely get why they decided not to go thru with it.
possibly tie-in with the ‘mother’ imagery we get on the propaganda signs across pandora.
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lmfao the foot
very bl2 like, im glad they didn’t stick with this. i like that they decided to change things up
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troy seems to be blind and also missing his metal implants on his face. his jacket also looks a lot different, it looks more like tyreen’s with the spikes and stuff across it. we also can’t see his metal arm at all, tho we do see his sword! which looks a lot different, im glad they decided to revamp it to be more visually interesting lol
tyreen is more interesting to me. it looks like her right arm has like a silver coating over it? unless that is a metal arm as well. she also is wearing a different kind of glove. her tattoos are missing as well, but again, it’s probably because of the cover art. her scars also definitely seem to have reached her left cheek at some point.
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zane also looks a lot different, tho amara, moze, and fl4k look about the same.
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another shot of the ship, this one is definitely the blue/yellow one. there’s gotta be some significance with that, right? either we’re getting skins for sanc-iii, we’re going to be painting it a new color, or it’s a different ship.
what the HECK
maybe the twins stole sanc-ii and we’re using sanc-iii. idek. this ship is driving me up a wall lol
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gun head.
not a lot to say here. i actually like this one lol it’s very mellow and straight to the point. it’s nice that the logo is right in the middle, not at the top like most of them.
game. buy it. okay? cool.
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similar to the other background we did, a bit different. again, like @ifalnasminiatures pointed out, the twins are actually palette swapped here. 
Zane also has the old eyepatch on his right eye instead of his left eye, and his jacket is black instead of blue. fuckin’ edgelord.
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one of my favorite ones out of all of them. it’s beautiful, i really wish they had kept it. Fl4k is missing but i assume they were meant to go next to Amara? i also think it’s interesting Moze is in the front, as I took Amara to be the leader this time around. Zane is also an older design, with the eyepatch back on his left eye again (starting to think this is an aesthetic thing lol) and a black jacket instead of blue.
We see the twins on the top. Tyreen has that mark on her face again, and Troy is the same as the last few covers.
We also see Maya, Zer0, and for some reason Brick? Which is weird to me considering we have a few other characters who initially feel much for important to the story (cough Lilith cough), but I’m not complaining. 
the purple splatters again make me think this is a tie in to eridium/slag/elpis’s chemical sludge. i also like the logo being worked into the design instead of just thrown on top, i think that’s a nice detail
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i couldn’t find a great shot of this poster which is a shame because it’s one of my favorites
a lot of baddies to go around on here. i love the dude up top, he reminds me of the Anchormen from the captain scarlett dlc in bl2!
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these dudes
we can see Punk Girl on the left again
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and this guy who appears to be in some medieval armor
i have no idea what’s going on there but i am EXCITED
i’ve been thinking and tbh i think the multiple planets thing was just an excuse for gearbox to go absolutely ham on the character designs/settings. 
i mean why should they have to hold back all their medieval armor designs for another dlc like tiny tina’s? all their pirate/sea-fairing designs for a pirate dlc? fuck it! go WILD. i think they did, anywho
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there’s also this post which... tbh i can’t make out much at all. again, seems like an older psycho mask design. it looks like there are characters in the splatter on the bottom left, but it’s very hard to tell who’s who, especially at this angle and image quality lol
if we get a better shot later on i may return to this piece and try to figure things out!
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we also have this piece which is giving me huge ‘Happy Together’ vibes. very trippy
moze looks like she’s using an untextured atlas gun? dunno what’s going on with that tbh lol
i really like this one too. it’s cool. i get why maybe they wanted to go a little crazier tho, feels too simplistic for the MAYHEM vibe they’re going for.
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oof! can we get an F in chat for whatever planet/moon this is
lots of pink floyd vibes going on here as well
we see a different looking blue/yellow ship flying away from the explosion. it seems to missing a lot of the parts that make sanc-iii so recognizable including the engines/wings
i like the destruction vibe they’re going for here, really sells the “universe destroying power” the twins are supposedly going to get. 
anyway, in addition to the cover art pieces, we also got a few concept art pieces as well!
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this bit which looks like a gun
you see the aiming mechanism up there? you see how it’s aimed at that planet/moon? yeah i 100% timed this so you’d see the above concept art with this immediately after :P (im kidding i didn’t but hey now you don’t have to scroll)
fuck yeah babey
we also have seen something similar to this in the gameplay trailer!
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i didn’t actually think it was a giant fucking GUN tho. can we get an F in chat for Promethea and/or whatever else this thing gets aimed at
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yooo
i thought this was opportunity at first cuz of the bridge but it’s more likely promethea
when u go meet zer0 you can see some water surrounding the city so i would guess this is somewhere else on promethea
im mostly interested in the giant fuckin triangle in the middle of that courtyard looking area
oh also the giant trench of destruction on the right there. that’s probably important, too.
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more concept art!
i think the bottom of the 4 VHs is actually what was leaked in january.
some art of the twins on the left there, tyreen is so much shorter than troy omfg
and this does indeed looks to be a younger version of angel so credit to @prettypinkdork for mentioning that on my angel post. it is nice to see those tech-y wings in action, definitely does prove it’s her.
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we can also see this art of what i think is Punk Girl, which is interesting to me because she looks to be doing something with her right hand. possible siren powers? maybe! 
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we also get a much cooler, bigger version of that maliwan ship people were talking about, with what look to be maliwan... eye bots? surrounding it. this is soooo fuckin awesome to me because it reminds me of a sailboat. and airships are fucking COOL
but something interesting is that i don’t think this ship was actually always maliwan
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we got an A in the back here... for Atlas? i mean... you know it’s coming... the colors would match up. Yeahhhhhhh...
more interesting is that it actually looks like maliwan covered it up with their flags/tarps. i would not be surprised if this was claimed by maliwan possibly during the takeover.
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a cyclone, with a whole fuckin lot of detail. just... holy shit.
not much else to say here though. i like the stuffed animal on the side, though
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a better shot of jakobs manor which holy shit looks badass as fuck
big turret/observation thing on the right there? im not sure
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pretty sure this is eden-6. also more tropical trees? possibly a water planet? but maybe just ocean on eden-6. also there seems to be like webbing on whatever is on the road, so maybe some spider-like wildlife?
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most important to me is this
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yeah i would bet that’s eridium/slag/the chemical sludge from elpis
im pretty convinced this is something on elpis mostly because the DAHL logo on the side. which again, they were on pandora yes but they were mining for iridium not eridium. if this was pandoran pumping stations, that would be hyperion.
i do think this is elpis. and i do think the twins are using the chemical sludge that mutated the lost legion into those fake siren things to give their followers superpowers.”holy holy holy” indeed.
this, plus the rakk wings on the psycho in the mask of mayhem are just convincing me more and more
that’s all for now folks. i gotta run
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royal-duality · 5 years
Text
Don’t Let Me Lose Myself
A/N: I wrote some Roman angst already, so have some Patton angst!!! I’ll probably do Logan next. Idk yet :/
Warnings: Lots of talk of gender dysphoria and general body dysphoria
Word Count: 1470
Pairing(s): LAM(With platonic P)
Summary: Patton wants to lose weight, but he's scared that losing weight will cause him to lose who he is.
------
The air was cold against his skin as he stared at his figure in the mirror. The binder pressing against his skin tightly, hiding what made him, her. Because he wasn’t her. He never was and never would be. Appearances were very deceiving even to the eye of the owner.
He locked gazes with his reflection, staring at the chubbiness of his body. He had been wanting to lose weight for a while. As much as the others claimed he was handsome, and his chubbiness was more than welcome, he still wanted to lose weight.
Sure, he’d never be as thin as Virgil or as buff as Roman, or as proportionate as Logan. But part of that was because he wasn’t like them. His body was completely different. The thought of starting testosterone and going through hormone replacement therapy had crossed his mind more than once. But part of him didn’t want to, not yet at least. Which sounded so wrong to his own ears, and he burst into tears when he told the others. Of course, they all supported him, assuring him that it didn’t make him any less of a man.
He poked at the pieces of fat that filled over and under his binder. He really did want to lose weight though. Partially because he wanted to stay healthy and live a long happy life with his friends and family. Especially for his boyfriends/qpp.
However, the one problem that stood in his way, the only thing keeping him from even trying to lose weight, was that he didn’t want to look more feminine. It was a stupid fear because he knew that losing weight and being more healthy should be more important than his stupid fears, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He was too afraid that if he lost the roundness in his face, or the chub around his waist that made his hips stand out less, that he would begin to look more like her, rather than who he was.
Even more so, he didn’t want to see how pretty he looked and forget that he was a boy. Because what if he looked better as a girl? What if he was just desperate for attention and called himself a boy to gain it? What if it was all a lie? A facade that would break as soon as he saw his cheekbones and jawline that was too rounded and smooth? The waist that curved in, just slightly more than the average man?
Tears streamed down his face as he hugged himself tightly, his gaze never leaving the reflection that showed him what he failed to be.
A knock on the door sounded before Virgil’s voice came through. “Hey, Pat, everything okay in there?” His voice was low as he spoke but filled with concern that flooded Patton’s veins that flowed with ice, sending warmth racing through his skin and leaving a small smile on his face.
“Yeah, kiddo, I’m okay!” He replied, fake cheer in his voice, hoping Virgil wouldn’t notice. He should have known better, this was Virgil, probably the only one who could and would call bullshit when anyone lies or tries to pretend they’re fine when they’re not. Patton almost felt bad, he knew Virgil hated lies, if only because someone always got hurt by them.
He heard a sigh from outside the door and hunched his shoulders preparing for a lecture when Virgil spoke again, his voice small and quiet as it barely passed the barrier of the door, “Let me in, Pat.”
Patton clenched his eyes shut, willing away the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks once more, as he pasted a smile on his face and opened the door, one arm still wrapped around himself. “Hey, kiddo-” “Don’t.” He stopped, his smile faltering slightly as he stared at Virgil who stared at him worriedly, his expression stone as he glared at Patton in concern. It was such a Virgil thing to do.
Patton let his smile drop as Virgil opened his arms, allowing Patton to just flop into the embrace where he was held warm against the other’s boney chest. “You’re too skinny Virge.”
He felt the other man’s chest rumble as he chuckled. “You still let me hug you, so I think I’m just the right amount of skinny.” Patton hummed against the other man’s chest. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” His boyfriend asked, his voice soft as he tightened his grip around Patton.
The two stood in silence for a moment as he mulled over the pros and cons of discussing such an issue. Part of him wanted to and knew he should talk to someone about it, and who better than the man who practically lived his life in fear. But at the same time, part of him was scared that Virgil would laugh at him or be disgusted by the thought of Patton looking more feminine in figure.
Letting out a sigh, Patton closed his eyes and pressed himself closer to Virgil, as though trying to burrow into the other man.
“I want to lose weight.” Silence. He pulled away just enough to see Virgil blink down at him in confusion.
“Okay?” He drew the word out as his brows furrowed in thought. “Are… I, don’t understand Pat. Is that why you were crying?”
A blush lit up the chubby man’s face as he buried his nose into Virgil’s chest once more. “No! Yes? Kind of, but not really…” He let out a huff of frustration as he tried to get the words to come out. “I just, if I lose weight that means I’ll lose all the fat that hides the parts of me that don’t belong. I’ll look like a girl.” His voice broke as he ranted about how he felt.
“And I’m scared that if I look in the mirror and see that I look more feminine, I’ll realize that I’ve been lying to everyone including myself this whole time. I don’t want to be a girl again Virgil, but I’m scared that if I look pretty and feminine, then I’ll realize that I only wanted to be a boy because I was such an ugly, fat girl! I don’t want to lose you or Logan or Roman because I won’t be a guy anymore!” By the point he had finished ranting, his words had devolved into sobs as he broke down against the other man who just held him tightly in his arms.
They stood there for a long time, Patton sobbing against the thin man’s chest, his hands tangled in the other’s black and purple patchwork hoodie as he rocked them both to soothe the sobbing man. Through sobs and sniffles, he heard the telltale voice of the man as he sang quietly to him, his voice higher than most would assume, but still holding a dark tone to it.
After a while, Patton’s sobs began to die down. He felt Virgil pull away slightly and only gripped the man closer to him, afraid that he would leave and never return. A soothing sensation filled him as the other squeezed him gently and shushed his whimpers. “It’s okay, Patton. I’m not gonna leave you. Nobody else will either.”
Heaving, one last deep breath, he relinquished his hold on the man’s hoodie, pulling away before wiping his tears away with his fist.  “You don’t know that.”
Virgil chuckled before reaching over and ruffling his curly, strawberry blonde hair. “Yeah, I do you dork. Look, I don’t really understand how you feel, I can’t imagine how difficult and confusing it must be to feel so lost about your gender. And I may not be as smart as Mr. Textbook, but if there’s one thing I do know it's that none of us would give you up. Not in a house, not for a mouse.” Patton let out a snort of amusement, making Virgil’s lips quirk.
“You know that none of us are strictly dickly-” Patton swatted him on the arm with a slight glare even as amusement flooded his features “-so if you decide that you are indeed a girl, then our relationship won’t change much if at all. But Patton, no matter how you look, chubby or skinny, feminine or masculine, or whatever the hell else that doesn’t fit into those stupid labels, we all love you. And we’re all going to support you no matter what. You’re famILY.”
Tears welled in both their eyes as they stared at each other. “You’re such a door -k,” He said as he knocked on the door, causing Virgil to groan fondly as Patton giggled. “Thank you, Virge.” He leaned up and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek before holding his hands tightly in his own.
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