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smallraindrops-blog · 2 years

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Heya! Its Lilith! I know I've said it thousands of times, but holy shit you write SOOOOO good!!!! You said to send in the ideas i had well i've got one! Could you do a Zagreus x reader whos is the daughter of Anubis (Egyptian god) and had been sent to go greet and Greek gods to ask if their underworlds could be combined for whatever reason? And she meets Zagreus and he forms a huge crush on her and they get together? Its a bit vague as i havent fleshed it out very well but I wanted to see your take on it?

The Weight Of A Heart

Zagreus x Female!reader

Work count 5k

Warnings: Death, talking of the death of children, talk of doom for souls/gods, kissing, implied intimacy, no beta. Will have a happy ending, just in case that wasn’t clear

Note: Hey! Thanks for this fun prompt, and I hope this is close to what you were looking for. 💜 @jewelwayne101 (tagging you since tumblr was being a butt last time)

Quick thing to note: I am playing fast and loose with a lot of stuff, so just that in mind. I also had to read up more on ancient Egyptian mythology thus part of the reason it took me some time.

Enjoy!

Like the sand of an hourglass, fate has come for you as well.

You stood straight and proud as your father carried the jackal head to you. Black as of void, its irises were made of gold and it stared at you accusingly. As if you weren’t worth it’s time.

You took a sharp breath, you didn’t care what the others whispered, you will prove yourself worthy as a daughter of Anubis.

Anubis stared at you and you made yourself hold his stare even as your hands shook.

At last, he spoke. “Be brave, you are but one more grain of sand among the many.”

You said nothing and bowed your head.

A heartbeat later, your face was covered by void.

Say what you will of the Greeks Pantheon, they knew how to make an impression.

Hermes stood bright and golden, his scarf moved like flames among the snow. You almost missed how cold snow was. And you didn’t realize how soft it would feel under your feet. You wondered if the rest of the underworld was like this.

He beamed at you and your Father, like you were old friends. “Oh my, Anubis. You didn’t tell me she got so big.” He said to Anubis, his voice lightening fast.

Then he turned to you, holding a hand to his temple then to yours. “The last time I saw you I think you stood knee high.” He lowered his hand with a laugh, “I forget how quickly young gods grow up.”

“I trust that you will make sure my daughter will make it safely?” Anubis spoke more slowly but Hermes didn’t seem impatient. He acted like he had all the time in the world for your father.

“Don’t worry about a single thing, fellow guild. I know Lord Hades and his Queen had done everything in their power to make your daughter feel right at home.”

You doubted that but you knew better than to voice it. You and the rest of the Egyptians needed this to work out. If it didn’t…

As the door of the Underworld opened, your Father gave you a hug.

“Be brave.” He whispered

“For I am but one more grain of sand among the many.” You whispered back.

Anubis held for a second longer, not wanting to let you go but with one last squeeze, he did.

He took a step back, and watched you walk through the door. You gave him one last glance backwards as the doors closed shut.

Queen Persephone had a simple grace to her movement. She reminded you of a farmer’s wife, hardworking and intimately familiar with the seasons. However her eyes were the most pure green you have ever seen, not even the purest of jades could match it.

She smiled at you warmly and you took an immediate liking to her.

“Daughter of Anubis, welcome to House of Hades.” Queen Persephone greeted, clasp your hands between hers.

“Queen Persephone, thank you so much for welcoming me to your lovely home.” You told her. “I never realized how amazing it would be.”

Queen Persephone smiled, “I’m glad the boat ride agreed with you.” She took your arm in hers as she walked you through the entrance. “I must admit, I do wish you could have seen Asphodel in its prime.”

“Asphodel was that place with magma, correct?” You asked. You couldn’t help but look at the walls and the paintings, it was so different from your own home. Your eye caught on a picture of Queen Persephone sitting down with another god standing behind her, his jet black hair messy and his smile soft. His hands rested on her shoulders as they both looked at the viewer.

“That would be my son, Prince Zagreus. You will meet him and my husband, Lord Hades later.” Queen Persephone said, smiling warmly at the artwork. Even in her face, you could see the love she had for her son.

“I’m looking forward to it.” You said and you meant it.

Maybe there was a chance for your home after all.

However your first impression of Lord Hades and Prince Zagrues was less than… Fortune.

“Are you serious?” A male voice came from behind the door. “And you just-“

“I won’t tolerate this disrespect, boy.” Another male voice nearly shook the hallway you were in. You stared at the door, surprised at the sheer volume. The power of the voice could rival Set himself.

The other voice, the boy if you had to guess, just laughed, “And what if we don’t help them, how long before the-“

“Excuse me.” Queen Persephone said, her mouth tight. You simply nodded, glad the mask covered any nervousness you might have shown. You stayed where you were as Queen Persephone pushed past the door.

Only when you were alone did you let your shoulders slump, maybe you had gotten your hope up too soon.

Then the door slammed open, and it took you a moment to realize that you were looking at Prince Zagreus. The painting didn’t do him justice, you realized. You didn’t expect his shoulders to be so broad or the strength in his form.

He stared at you, no doubt put off by the mask you thought with a twist of your mouth.

“Your Highness.” You replied coolly.

He blinked his mismatched eyes, odd even for a god, and opened his mouth to say something when Lord Hades placed a hand on his shoulder. Zagreus’ mouth snapped shut and he pulled away from his father.

You knew Lord Hades would be huge, Hermes had warned you about him and of his temper. Not all the warnings in the world could have prepared you.

“Daughter of Anubis.” Lord Hades greeted you politely as you shook hands with him.“I trust your trip was pleasant.”

“It was. I didn’t realize how unique every level of the underworld was. You must have put a lot of work into it.” You said.

“And this is my son, Prince Zagrues.” Queen Persephone pushed him forward and he offered up a smile, making him look boyishly sweet. “Yes, it’s truly nice to meet you, I don’t think we ever had a goddess from Egypt before.”

“I would hope not.” You said politely. Prince Zagreus looked ready to ask you another question when Lord Hades spoke up.

“I’m sure you would like a chance to rest after such a long trip, Lady Y/N.” Lord Hades looked down at his son. “Show her where she will be staying, and mind your manners, boy.”

Prince Zagreus gave a quick eye roll, an act so brazen you almost didn’t think it happened. He took a step forward with a smile, “Please, let me show you your room.”

Later when alone in a bedchamber, you pulled the mask off and stared down at it. You rubbed your thumb along the muzzle with a sigh. You rested your forehead on the jackal’s temple.

Please, please you thought to yourself, let this be the right decision.

So far, everything was going well. You and Queen Persephone got along amazingly well and even Lord Hades seemed accepting of your presence. Lady Nyx understood what you were trying to do and all of her sons were willing to go along with it.

It was all coming together and the chokehold that Ammit had over the gods and goddesses can end.

You stood on the cliff, looking over the beauty of Elysium. It really could rival Sekhet-Aaru in beauty, and you wished you could take your mask to feel the breeze.

This place will be well suited for your people, families could make a home here until they were ready for rebirth and no longer fear the bite of Ammit.

Yes, this will do nicely.

“Is there a place like this in your underworld?” Prince Zagreus asked, standing several paces away. You turned away from Elysium, and toward it’s prince. Prince Zagreus was an unusual creature. He reminded you more of a mortal warrior, almost too humble to be a god.

“Yes, we call it Sekhet-Aaru.” You rejoined him from the cliff. Prince Zagreus gave a bemused smile, and tried to repeat it.

You laughed a little bit, “Sekhet-Aaru.” You sounded it out for him, amused at his frustration. It took several more tries before he got it.

“It is also known as Field of Reeds if that will be easier for you.” You said, looking back at Elysium. “If I may ask where are the homes of the shades that rest here? In ours, there are countless.”

Now that you think of it, you don’t think you have seen a single child in all of Elysium.

“Homes?” Prince Zagreus with a frown and you returned the frown even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“Yes, home. The dwelling which your people live in, just like you.” You told him, a growing pit in your stomach.

“Oh.” Prince Zagreus said, titling his head. “They don’t have homes, they have no need for it.”

“What?” You said flatly. No, that can’t be right.

Prince Zagreus raised an eyebrow, “Well, they have rest areas and the markets so they should be fine.”

You laughed, “No, these were humans and they are even after death.” You waved a hand, “You can’t tell me that you thought this was normal.”

Prince Zagreus crossed his arms, “And your Field of Reed has that? Because from I heard that Ammit-“

“Don’t.” You warned softly. “You don’t understand the first thing about your duties as an afterlife god, now do you?”

He scoffed, “I understand it perfectly well, do you?”

You stared at him for a moment, then took a step toward him and when he didn’t back down, you took another step. It felt almost too intimate to stand this close to another person when you only been this close to other family members.

“Where are the children? The farmers? The craftsmen?” You asked gently. Prince Zagreus blinked, not expecting the question. You continued, “If even children and their families are not worth all this,” and you waved toward the false beauty. “Then who is?”

“The greatest of the Greek heroes and warriors.” He said, and you saw something that looked like shame, “The others are in Asphodel.”

You gasped, “In the fire?”

And he nodded.

For long heartbeats, you said nothing. He and you stared at each other and you swallowed. Faintly, you were aware of your ears ringing. Prince Zagreus reached up and placed his hands, warm and rough, on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this would upset-“

You pushed his hands off and took several steps away from him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. For a moment, all you could see was Ammit’s grinning mouth as she swallowed souls after souls and not even your father could get her to stop.

The great devourer and hell itself, Ammit takes all and leaves nothing in her path.

“Lady Y/N?” Prince Zagreus’ voice was soft, gentle unlike before and you suddenly hated him for trying to be kind to you when there were children living in the flames.

“Take me back to my room.” You ordered hoarsely.

It must have been a full day since you left your room.

A shade left a tray of food in your room as custom since you were supposed to only eat alone or with close family or with a lover.

You couldn’t touch a single morsel.

You sat in the bath, staring at the rafters. How had this gone so terribly wrong?

Surely your Father must not know about this. From what your father spoke, only Tartarus was for evil souls, too corrupt. He must have not known about Asphodel.

You sunk deeper into the warm waters, and tried to think what to do. Coming to the Greeks had been the last resort and they have failed their people. Ordinary souls shouldn’t be barred from paradise, especially not the little ones who never had a chance.

You refused to go home as a failure. You will bring salvation no matter the cost.

But what to do?

Eventually you got out of the bath, and put on a simple linen dress, not brothing to put your jewelry or even the mask on.

You paced as you mentally wrote a letter to your father, trying to think what to say.

‘Dear beloved Father,

I have failed you and all of Egypt.

Love, your daughter.’

You laughed unhappily, it was better than crying.

At the sound of crashing and footsteps, you looked up in confusion to your doors. Then Prince Zagreus busted though, waving off the shade guarding your bedchamber.

He saw you and stopped in place. He stared at you, a slight smile forming. “Oh. So that's what you look like.”

You blinked, and your hand reached up to your face, expecting the hard coldness of the jackal but touched soft, warm flesh instead.

Your cheeks flushed and you rushed over to the mask and quickly placed it on. Then you wirled back to him and he took some steps backward. Good. he should be scared, you thought, stomping over and shoving him in the chest repeatedly. He held up his hands but you only shoved harder.

“My father would have killed you twice over if he knew what you just did, you utter fool!” You hissed. Zagreus, because you certainly weren’t going to call him a prince after this, grabbed your wrists and held them carefully.

You seriously gave thought about kicking him.

“First off, ow.” He said, “I know I shouldn’t have come in like that but I don’t understand what the big deal is. It's not like I saw anything-“

“The big deal? You saw my face! It is an honor to share one’s face. You might as well walk in on me in the bath.” You snapped. You pulled your hands away with a huff, “Only my parents or a lover are allowed to see my face, and you are neither.”

“Ah.” He said softly. “I didn’t know. Not an excuse obviously. My apologies, I shouldn't have come in here without your permission. I just thought…”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Why are you here, Zagreus?”

Zagreus reached out then dropped his hand, “I was worried about you. After our talk the other day, I haven’t seen you. And everyday since your arrival, you were always doing something. So I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Between the careful look he gave and his gentle tone, something in you softened. You cursed yourself, this is why you could never take over your Father’s position. It was why you felt safe behind the mask, it hid any weakness you had and now you felt exposed in front of this god even with it on.

A blush warmed your cheeks and you tried to shove the memory away of his smile.

“It’s quite alright, your highness.” You told him, feeling very tired all of the sudden.

“Zagreus.” He corrected you and he gave you that boyishly sweet smile again. “I finally got you to use my name, and not my title. Admittedly not the way I wanted but I would like to keep it that way.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Then you gave a nod.

“Alright, Zagreus.”

You made a personal visit to Asphodel with Zagreus by your side, quiet as the heat built. Even the heat of it was hotter than your own home. The coolness of your mask wasn’t much help.

Zagreus got out first, and held a hand out to you.

You lifted the skirt of your dress with one hand as placed your other hand in Zagreus’. You tried not to think how easily his hand enveloped yours.

You carefully stepped off the boat, glad you wore sandals at the least. You turned to Charon who stared down at you, he reminded you of your father in a way. Quiet and solemn and you couldn’t help the fondness you felt for him.

“Thank you master Charon.” You said simply and he groaned with a nod. With that he pushed his boat onward.

There was a crowd of shades, tucked away in a cave from the worst of the magma. Your heart tightens but you leave them alone.

“How did this happen? Was it always this?” You asked, walking besides Zagreus.

Zagreus was quiet for a moment then shook his head. “No. From what my mother told me, it used to be a field of these flowers called Asphodel, thus the name and trees too.”

He waved a hand toward the bubbling magma, “Then one day something happened with the River Phlegethon. And it overtook the land.”

“No one knows why?” You asked, allowing Zagreus to guide you around a puddle of magma. His hand on your back for just a moment, steady even in the heat.

“No. I tried to ask my father but not even he knows the causes of it or so he says. When it first happened, they tried to build dams but it always overtook it eventually.” Zagreus said.

You fell quiet, slowly making your way through Asphodel.

This isn’t what you wanted for your people but it would be better than to suffer oblivion at Ammit’s hands.

“Is it true that Ammit just went mad one day?” Zagreus said when you and him reached the end of Asphodel.

You stood in the doorway, taking one last look at Asphodel. You tried to imagine what it looked like before Phlegethon overtook the land.

“No. I think she was always mad. My father is getting older, and the endless judgments weigh heavy on him. And one day…” You stopped, swallowed down the knot that formed in your throat.

You turned to him with your arms crossed, head bow. “One day, there was a child. Children have never lived long enough for their hearts to weigh them down usually. This child was just like the others and they passed the weighting of the heart. When my father picked up their heart to return it to the child, Ammit stole the heart from him and swallowed it whole.”

“Oh gods.” Zagreus whispered. You felt his hand on your arm but you didn’t look up at him. If you did, you might start crying.

“My father and Lord Thoth tried to stop her but every soul that came across was devoured mindlessly. Lord Osiris was able to close off Sekhet-Aaru before she got in. But every day since, any souls that die will perish to her, no matter how light their heart is.”

You took a breath, “This isn’t what I wanted for my people but it will be better than Ammit. Anything would be.”

Zagreus was quiet the whole way back home. When you and him were to part for the evening, he caught your hand gently in his.

“What is ours is yours.” He said.

‘Dear Beloved Father,

The Greeks had agreed to open their underworld to ours. They have been very kind to me during my stay here. Lord Hades, Queen Persephone and their son Prince Zagreus agreed to do everything in their powers to help.

I trust you and Lord Hermes already have a plan for what to do. I will stand by as I await your next orders.

Love, your daughter.’

“You’re being a fool, you weren’t supposed to let this happen. I trusted you with one job and you were to tell her they would get no help from us.” Lord Hades’ voice was loud in the hallway.

You didn’t mean to overhear, you were on your way to the library but you turned around and walked down the hallway you heard his voice again.

“And this is madness! I already lost control of the Phlegethon river.” Lord Hades yelled.

You stopped short, and tried to listen in. It was shameful to spy on your host but when it came to your people, there was no limit to how low you were willing to go. Especially since you just learned there might be no help coming.

“If no one minds me saying so, is it really that crazy?” It took a moment but that was Hypnos’ voice, “They are strong. Their morals and ours already share so much thanks to Alexander the Great. It won’t be that different.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, he is right.” Thanatos said.

“And Ammit won’t stop. Father, if what Y/N told me is true, Ammit will just eat everything until there is nothing left.” Zagreus said harshly. Even from where you stood, you could hear the desperation in his voice.

“He’s right.” Queen Persephone said much more calmly.

“Maybe it’s time to let the rivers meet again,” Lady Nyx said. “We have let them stuffer long enough.”

Silence filled the hallway and you almost left, fearing you would be found out. But then Queen Persephone spoke, “ After all, once Ammit eats her way through their underworld, what will stop her from coming to this one? And she will come for us, Hades. And for the Norse and Roman gods and so on.”

More silence.

“We need a plan.” Zagreus said.

It had been nearly a week.

You have yet to get a letter back from your Father.

You tried to comfort yourself by telling yourself that he must be busy getting their people ready.

“I found out why the Phlegethon river overflowed.” Zagreus said softly. You looked from the maps of the Greek underworld, blinking your tired eyes. One thing you weren’t warned about was much harder reading was with a mask on.

“Oh?” You said, voice rough from the lack of use.

You had taken up a corner spot in their library, maps spread out on the table as you tried to work out where you were going to place all of your people. Zagreus had joined you between his runs, helping point places where he knew they could settle in. He had told you the plan and at least, you had something while you waited for your Father.

“It was in love with the river Styx.” Zagures said, his eyes firmly on the maps. “They were trying to reach each other but my father was able to stop it.”

You glanced toward him. “But why would he?” Something in the air changed,a tension that had been building since the first day.

“Because my father thought they would destroy the underworld.” Zagreus finished. He marked an ‘x’ on part of the map, writing in Hyra next to it. You studied his fingers, they looked like a warrior’s hand, broad and rough.

“Yet it happened anyway.” You said with a sigh. You looked back at the maps, your people’s only hope.

Between the nervousness from the lack of letters from your Father, the headache that slowly formed behind your eyes and how the candlelight framed Zagreus’ face, you made a very foolish decision.

“Zagreus, are you hungry?” You watched his face carefully.

“Oh, yes.” Zagreus blinked, “I will have a shade get your food and let you eat alone-“

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly, “I meant to ask, would you like to join me for dinner?”

Zagreus said nothing as he looked at you, and you wondered if he was imaging your face.

“If you don’t want to-“ you started but he took your hand, gentle like you were made something fragile, something cherished.

“I would like that very much.” Zagreus said, his thumb brushing along your skin.

You blushed at the tender smile he gave you.

When you bare your face to him, he sighed like a man who finally got a drink of water. He reached up, cupping your face between his hands. Hands that you had grown familiar with and your cheeks warmed at his touch.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, close enough to kiss. “I thought I’ve seen beauty before but I was wrong.”

Somehow your blush got even worse and you pressed your cheek into his palm. You never had anyone look at you the way Zagreus did. You tried to form words but every time you looked at his face, at the amazed tenderness of it, you lost your thoughts.

“May I kiss you?” It was a gentle request but you heard the undercurrent of want, of need under it.

You curled a hand in his tunic, “You may.”

His lips caught yours, dipping your head back to deepen the kiss. You and him moved together in the kiss, slow at first but it quickly grew desperate.

You broke the kiss first, gasping slightly. Almost immediately, you and him returned to each other.

For now, nothing else matters but you and him.

Unknowingly to you, before Zagreus had returned to you, he found where his father had kept the rivers from meeting.

He would set right to what his father had done wrong.

With his sword, he slammed into the barrier again and again. Until it cracked like glass then shattered into a bright light.

Zagreus huffed, his sword resting his shoulders. He thought of you as he watched the two rivers find each other. He didn’t know what to make of you when he first laid eyes on you, you were nothing else he ever knew. You still were a mystery to him and he found himself only getting in deeper.

A goddess willing to do anything to save her people, her family. He closed his eyes, he just hoped it worked out because he knew your heart, too big and too kind for its own good, would break if it didn’t.

You stood on barren grounds and stared out at the land. What once had been covered in magma was now hardened ground but more shades than you ever saw were walking about.

Two children darted past you, screaming with laughter. Even with the stress of the last few weeks, you smiled at their joy even with the mask on.

Lord Hades stood next to his son, staring at Phlegethon. The river still took a good amount of space but it was controlled now. If you could see far enough, you could see where there was a pool of magma for the Bone Hyra.

Lord Hades only sighed, and glanced at his son. “You’re a fool, boy. But maybe so am I.” With that he left you and Zagreus alone among the shades.

You looked across the land, there was still much to be done but it was a start. No doubt Queen Persephone will be able to help restore this place.

He smiled at you and you felt that he knew you returned his smile back.

Later, Zagreus pressed a kiss against your forehead, your nose, both of your cheeks and finally your mouth.

You laughed against his lips, heart ready to burst from love.

“You should have told me.” You said, resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat was smoothing in the dark.

“I wasn’t sure it would work.” Zagreus said, running a hand through your hair. You closed your eyes, “It's you, Zagreus. Of course, it would work.”

He just chuckled before pressing another kiss against your brow.

Finally a letter had arrived but it wasn’t your fathers.

‘Dear Daughter of Anubis,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this. Fear not, for your Father still lives but you need to stay where you are. Your father will rest easy knowing you are safe and out Ammit’s reach.

Ammit only grows stronger and I fear I won’t be able to hold her back much longer. Lord Hermes and the others had started the first half of the plans and I trust our people will be welcomed.

Be safe. Be strong.

Lord Osiris’

You tore your mask off, letting it roll on the bed and covered your eyes. Tears burned even though you tried to hold it back.

The letters said your father was alive but you felt so foolish for just sitting around and waiting while he suffered.

You didn’t hear Zagreus come in. He didn’t ask what was wrong, just held you as you tried to pull yourself back together.

If you ever saw Ammit again, you will personally wired her jaw shut yourself.

You stood with bated breath as you waited for the first sign of Zagreus along with lord Hermes and the countless shades.

Queen Persephone and her countless shades had already been working on restoring Asphodel back to its former glory.

The grass was just soft as Elysium and soon flowers will fill the fields.

“You should be proud.” Queen Persephone said with a smile. You turned to her, your mask covering up your confusion.

“Queen Persephone, I hardly did anything.” You told her with a shake of your head.

“I know for a fact you and your father choose not to listen to your fellow gods. You choose to seek help. Many won’t, far too prideful.” She said, and you saw something passed over her face before she smiled again.

“And I think without your help, it would have taken much longer to restore Asphodel.” She finished.

You nodded, not willing to argue with Queen Persephone.

Then you heard it, you turned and clapped your hands together. Lord Hermes, bright as the sun, led Charon’s boat along with many smaller boats behind him to the land. The first you saw was your Father, tall and strong even the injuries you can see on him form.

You hurried over, “Father!”

He turned and opened his arms wide. You almost leaped in them and you were glad the mask hid your foolish tears. Thanks to the fates, he was alright. He squeezed you as the shades moved pass, muttering and pointing at their new home.

“You were brave, my daughter.” He placed a hand on top of the jackal mask as he pulled away. “I will tell you later what to come but for now, let us enjoy this.”

You nodded, and Queen Persephone took your Father along with her, head bowed together as they spoke. Then lastly Zagreus stepped off the boat, and he gave you that boyish sweet smile.

“Hey.” He said quietly. “I missed you.”

“Welcome home.” You said just quietly. “I missed you too.”

He offered his arm and you took it.

Welcome home indeed.

#hades game #hades zagreus #fanfic #zagreus x female!reader #self insert #zagreus x reader #x reader

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kawaiijohn · 3 years

Text

Rewind, Rinse, Repeat Chapter 1

For Invisobang Minibang 2021

Ao3 Link

Chapters: 3 finished, 12 total Rating: T+ Warnings: Major and Minor Character Death- all temporary, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Strong Language, Mild Body Horror, Mild Injury. Other warnings listed by chapter Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Pariah Dark, Levi | Leviathan (OC), Mal (OC), Observants, Mentions of other characters Ships: Lost Time, Dark Ages, CW & OC child, CW & Levi | Leviathan (OC) Genre/Tropes: Human AU, Magic AU, Found Family, Character Origin, Hurt/Comfort, Original Magic System and Lore Additional Tags: Existentialism & Existential Angst, Memory Loss & Amnesia, Corruption, Clockwork Centric, They/Them Pronouns for Clockwork, The Fenton's A+ Parenting, Obersvant Bashing

Summary

“Clockwork can I ask you something? How did you become a ghost?”

The tale surrounding the mystery of Clockwork's existence; a world where magic is common and ghosts are not. A world where one lonely, average mage tries with all their might to save what means most to them. A world where things need to be remade into something better.

Shout out to my betas @bibliophilea and @moonlights-shadow-warrior for keeping me sane, @13thdoodle for letting me use their OC, Levi, @dailudannos and @sailor-toni for providing art for later chapters, and all the folks over at @invisobang for being awesome!!!!

Chapter One below the Cut. The rest is available on my Ao3 account because tumblr linking/posting is hella broken.

Chapter 1: An Inquiry

“Hey, Clockwork? Can I ask you something?”

Clockwork looks over from the mirror they were watching intently. “You already have, Daniel,” they reply, offering the other a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha. You've never said that to me before.” The reply is filled to the brim with sarcasm, as per usual. Danny rolls his eyes, but a small smile gracing his lips betrays the fact he isn't annoyed in the least. “Seriously, though. It’s something that's been on my mind like... every day for the last two weeks!!" He raises his hands towards the sky, flopping back in the air dramatically. "But... it's kinda, y'know. Personal-” Danny trails off, slightly embarrassed.

Of course. Clockwork finds themself smiling fondly- Danny thought he’d said something he shouldn't have- an inquiry that could make his guardian upset (as if it's even possible to upset Clockwork like that). A question is a question, and this is a worrying habit of his that the Time Master is trying to help break, even if it's still somewhat endearing to them.

“I uh, I mean... it’s personal about- to you, not to me. That’s what I meant!!” Danny continued.

Clockwork stares at him, unblinking. An idea (or thousands) of what he may ask flashes through their mind’s eye. With a single, calming pulse to their Core, Clockwork pushes the involuntary slideshow of timelines aside as if they're no more than curtains. They need to focus on the window in front of them; the here and now, not the temporal drapery.

It's a habit they are trying to overcome for Daniel’s sake. To ensure their ward's growth, they need to stop peering into the near future as often- not discourage his asking of questions. After all, what is a child if not but a well of endless curiosity? Cutting Danny off is also sure to disallow the development of any trust or patience Clockwork needs to build within their young ward. They wouldn’t receive either of those things if they assume what he wanted to ask.

It's common decency to not assume, lest it ‘make an ass out of you and me’, according to Daniel.

It is going to be a tough habit to break, but by the (other) Ancients, they're trying their best. Their ward deserves the infinitesimal choices all other children have when asking things of their guardians, so even if they do glimpse to the future, they will not mention it to him. Clockwork refuses and will continue to refuse to take their ward’s agency away; to not have a choice in things is a fate worse than fading.

The boy has been quiet, stuck deep within his own thoughts even after an impressive five minutes and thirty-seven and a half seconds of silence (uncharacteristic of the boy, Clockwork notes).

Now that just won't do- he must have lost his train of thought. Clockwork gestures at the ghost boy, motioning for him to continue. It works- Danny adverting his eyes and clearing his throat, "Well, it’s just like- you know so much about me- like, how I died, the whole Ghost Zone Prince business, that entire disaster doomed timeline with Dan... I just keep thinking- no- realizing, that I barely know anything about you!!” He throws his arms up in thinly veiled frustration.

Clockwork smirks. “You had another question, did you not?” They place a hand along the edge of the closest Temporal Mirror, turning to face the mirror- still halfway facing Danny. They can see his inner debate clearly written on the boy's face- the mirror reflecting as if it were an ordinary object (for now). They turn towards it fully and watch Daniel's reaction from behind them, acting as if they aren't finding joy in their ward's hesitation. It's always adorable when he tries not to offend Clockwork. "I may be able to work with time, but that doesn't mean I wish to float here waiting for an answer all day."

Danny blinks a few times, rolling his eyes again in response. Clockwork is certain that if they weren’t secured to his skull by human musculature they’d fall out and roll away. “Well, I’m sorry for trying not to be rude and like, asking outright... but since it’s you I have to always be super direct!! Jeeze you’re frustrating sometimes!” He floats towards his mentor, crossing his arms.

Danny often forgets Clockwork isn't easily upset over trivial things such as questions. Most questions are about things they already know the answers to, anyways. And the few things that they don’t know when asked, they figure out soon after. Such is the duty of the Master of Time- to be a step ahead of everyone and everything else always. Besides, in most timelines (68.3% of them, to round up) the question Daniel wishes to ask is along the lines of ‘What was your past like?’ Another small fraction (a little under 20%) the question is ‘How did you get so strong?’ . And even in the remaining timelines, the question would be along the lines of ‘How do your time powers work?’

They are each things Clockwork expects Daniel to ask them at some point or other, as it were. There isn’t really anything Daniel can ask that could be too shockin-

“Clockwork, I was wondering… how exactly did you become a ghost?”

They... did not see that coming… in any of the timelines they’d glimpsed. Clockwork stills for only a fraction of a moment, but it’s long enough for Danny to flinch, feeling as if he’s crossed a line. They hear more than see Daniel shrinking in on himself as they look off into nothing, buried memories waking slowly in their mind.

Clockwork is brought from their introspection by a mumbled curse. “Shit! I mean... uh crap??" They just stare at Danny as they are brought back to the present. "Never mind just... sorry for asking... Oh man! Did I offend you somehow? Ancients dammit, this is what I was worried about!!” They watch him curiously, soft whirring coming from their ward's anxious core. “We can just forget about it if-” Daniel’s hands wring together nervously, shoulders tense with worry and face full of guilt.

Right- facial expressions are also important for a young ghost's emotional communication and development. Sometimes the Time Master wonders if their isolation in Long Now affected their social behavior (it did). Their face is carefully blank most times, so they set to fix it- they offer a small grin, hand coming to rest on Daniel’s shoulder. “It is more than fine, Daniel. You asked if you could ask a question- which is in fact, two questions, I should note- but I gave you consent to ask it of me.” They squeeze his shoulder to placate the worry.

“It’s about time I told you this story, as it were. I just did not foresee it being told at this very moment." Clockwork floats slowly, turning away from their Mirrors. "Come along- it’s best we sit for this. I’ll have one of your friends bring us some tea.”

Danny floats after his mentor, looking around the room the two normally use to study history of the Realms. “So, uh… is it a long story or...?”

“Oh, it is very long, indeed.” They fly through an ornate door and over to their favored 'chair'- a stack of comfortable cushions in violets and blues, both impossibly cool and warm at the same time. They recall Daniel discovering the room, eyes full of wonder and posture relaxed. Clockwork chuckles- the first time their boy had wandered in here he'd decided to take a running dive into the pile, jumping up in surprise when it was cold as ice, yet warm as fresh laundry. The expression on their ward’s face is one of their fondest memories; a happy moment amongst all the tedium of watching time.

“It may take a while to tell this tale proper. But, it is a story that ought to be told.” Daniel makes himself comfortable on his chair of choice- an unholy combination of 'borrowed' pillows and what appears to be a more modern gaming chair- complete with an obnoxiously bright green-black color scheme. Clockwork has to hide another smile as Danny wiggles himself deep into the pile. “So, Daniel- what do you know of the phrase ‘Totems of Power’?”

“I thought I was getting a story, not a pop quiz! Unfair!!” His disdain for schooling makes Clockwork laugh fondly before the boy continues. “But they’re like… hmm how do I explain this? Well, there’s the universe right? Like every timeline and every result of every timeline all at the same time kind of ties into the main universe thingy- but there's still a main timeline, and that's kinda like... Main Street, and the other possible timelines are uh... like side streets with dead ends? But there's other forces that like, aren't time and… uhhh...”

He hums, crossing his arms deep in thought. Clockwork takes the time to purr-sing-hum at one of the many blobs floating in and out of their lair; Daniel had asked them to keep some around as pets and the Time Master was happy to oblige. They were unable to deny something so beneficial to the young Prince, after all. The one deemed ‘Mr. Pants’ by one of Daniel’s friends answers their call. Clockwork buzzes to it a quiet request- ‘bring Daniel's favorite tea and mugs for two, please.’ The little thing chirrups and zips off through the walls- eager to serve the Lair’s owner and be (potentially) rewarded with pats (from Daniel).

The Time Master brings their undivided attention back toward a grumbling ghost boy, lost in thought. “Daniel if you need to ask for help I’m glad to-”

Danny snaps his fingers, coming to a realization before his mentor can finish. “I got it!! The best way to explain it is ‘The Universe needs to run smoothly, so there’s certain forces- like Time or Space- that are upheld by a powerful entity, like a person or like… the avatar of that concept? Yeah, something like that, but they ensure the aspect they represent is properly cared for so the universe doesn’t completely like, die.’” Danny nods to himself. "It's why you stepped in to stop Dan, to make sure the world didn't end like that."

“That is correct- it is my job to ensure this universe of ghosts and reality doesn't crumble prematurely. Now, do you have a recollection of any other Totems you may have encountered?”

“Well, yeah! We call them ‘Ancients’, though- so like… Pandora is the one for war and history, and Nocturn is for like… dreams? The Void or something, maybe? And then there’s old man Pariah who isn’t one, but he said there’s a Leadership Ancient somewhere, and then-” Danny pauses, blinking at Clockwork in realization. “Wait, you asked that for a reason, didn’t you?”

“That I did. Becoming the Totem, or Ancient of Time is where this story starts.” Clockwork hums, seeing Mr. Pants fly back towards the two- nearly spilling scalding tea all over the ground. “Now then. We have drinks. We are sitting comfortably. I believe it’s time I spin my tale for you.” They take a sip, closing their eyes in bliss.

They open them once more and see Daniel sitting, eyes full of stars and eager- Eager to hear, eager to fire off a question a minute. It makes a chuckle bubble up in their throat, to see their favorite person so excited to learn.

“Once upon a time, there was a human; average in most ways, a simple person living a simple life. They would get up in the morning, perform their daily tasks, and go to sleep at night. Day in, and day out- a boring, but fulfilling existence.

“However, where this story differs from what we recognize as reality, is that in this realm, humans who could control magic were the norm. Think as if it were like one of those fantasy games you and Tucker play together- mages, healers… all of those and more were commonplace when I was alive. Yes, humans can wield magic now, but it is nowhere near as frequent as they could in our tale.”

They pause, seeing that Danny was about to interrupt. “Wait wait- this realm? Like- this is a completely different reality?? And people can wield magic now??? Are you messing with me? Like… I thought it was all just-” The boy stops, his train of thought drifting off the tracks as it tends to now and then.

“Yes, first, this is a completely different realm from either the Mortal Plane or the Ghost Zone. Second, Daniel- tell me... have you not noticed the magic of those you have encountered? Blood blossoms… a reality warping gauntlet? The existence that is ‘Freakshow’ in general should be a red flag, seeing as his talents were… strangely non-ghostly in origin. Not to mention objects such as the Infi-map...”

“Man, I wish I could forget about Freakshow… who mind controls ghosts??? He was the worst!” Their young ward crossed his arms and grumbles.

“If you’re done sulking about your past misadventures and former foes, I was in the middle of telling a story, if I recall correctly. One you asked I tell you…” Clockwork simply stares, unblinking as steam wafts from their slowly cooling tea.

All is well, they knew Danny would only take approximately 4.85 seconds to snap his attention back to their story. Clockwork sips their tea, waiting.

Danny snaps out of his thoughts only a millisecond off of Clockwork's prediction. “Sorry... it’s just super weird to think that magic actually… still exists? Like ghosts are real and all but magic being a thing feels a bit far fetched, don’t ya think?” He pouts, brow furrowed.

The Master of Time finally closes their eyes, removing the hood from their head. White hair floats gracefully behind them, settling just past their shoulders. Clockwork opens their eyes again- a serious, yet warm expression directed at their ward. “Magic is simply defined as reality altering acts using both energy and the willpower of a sentient being, if that helps.” Another sip. Mr. Pants made a wonderful batch of tea, as always. They smile wider when they notice Danny’s expression- the boy has never seen them without a hood, and they know doing this will (in 99.78% of all possible timelines) convince the boy to take what they said seriously. ”Just as ghosts can be defined as ‘ectoplasm given form and consciousness’, forces beyond humanity and the physical realm can be explained with scientific terminology if you know where to look.”

“So like... what all did magic have to do with this ‘simple human’ version of you? Did you ever have the power to shoot lightning?? Could I shoot lightning if I tried? Like were you some sorta time wizard? Is that why you’re all… timey-wimey and powerful?” Danny wiggles his fingers with a look of confusion on his face.

Clockwork always finds their Core warming when their boy acts his age. He's abnormally prone to shoulder the destiny of the world on himself and often forgets he's just a kid. “You could continue asking questions one at a time, or you could allow me to tell my story. The choice is yours, Daniel.” They smirk, watching as Danny purses his lips, his steady flow of questions stopping short. The best answer. “Perfect- all is as I thought it would be.”

They close their eyes and reminisce as they continue. “Now- to answer your last question… Yes. You could say magic is how I came to be the Master of Time in both the Infinite Realms and the mortal plane, but there is much more to the story than that. Other players, situations, and pure circumstances. The universe in its infinite chances and possibilities brought myself, as well as many others to the situations they face here and now.” Clockwork pauses, taking the moment to stare straight through Danny’s soul. “Even yourself.”

The boy shudders, an appropriate response. “Wait... me? Did you… do something in the past to like… a past version of someone we know?? Can that even happen???” Danny is already enraptured by the story, eyes twinkling as his mentor opens up about themself. The boy is obviously thinking about everything that has happened, everything that could possibly have happened, and everything that Clockwork could possibly drop on him.

They feel Daniel cautiously tug on loose strands of time to see if he could possibly scope out what is about to be said, quickly failing to do much else beside give himself a small headache. “Time stuff is still really confusing, Clockwork…”

“You could say that. You could even say that trying to mess with time in the inner sanctum of Long Now is the most confusing ‘time stuff’ one could do if they were not myself.” They grin- a Temporal Mirror appearing behind them with a thought.

“What’s the mirror for?” Danny catches sight of himself and looks away, embarrassed that he’s been literally glowing with power after trying to do something so simple with his developing powers. The glow is something he’s been working on suppressing recently. After all, it would be a shame if other ghosts could see the boy powering up by aura alone.

The Master of Time smirks, bringing tea to their lips again. “I thought it would be fun to attempt braiding my hair and doing my makeup for once. It has been an awfully long time since I’ve done either.”

They stare at Danny who just bursts into laughter. “Did you just use sarcasm??? Man, I didn’t know you could lighten up, Clockwork!” The boy laughs harder, sinking deeper into his nest of pillows. After a few minutes he was finally wiping tears from his eyes. “But no. Seriously… what’s the mirror for??”

“Why, what they are always for, Daniel- seeing through time and space.” Clockwork waves their hand. The mirrors show an image of a human with dark hair and burgundy eyes. They have a large, hooked nose and medium brown skin- and Danny finds himself having a hard time guessing their gender. The human sits at a desk, paused in time with the delicate gears of a clock sprawled along the desk surface, tools in hand.

Behind Clockwork, the image changes, showing the human living through an average day- images play in small spurts, never showing the whole story. “Do you understand what’s being seen?” The young boy nods, grabbing Mr. Pants out of the air as the blob drifts between the two. Good, he will probably need the companionship, especially towards the end.

This isn’t the easiest story to tell, nor is it easy to listen to, but with a sip of their tea, Clockwork continues.

#danny phantom #invisobang #invisobang 2021 #dp #phanfic #art #my fic #RRR #dantes vibe corner

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Spark - 25

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, feels, danger, stubbornness. The usual. A/N: Manage to get myself pretty confused because it said I’d already posted 25 chapters on AO3 but here on Tumblr it only claimed 24...aaaand then I remembered posting the what-if directly in the story there but not here...so yeah! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

25. Forged by fire

... Reader ...

Your brain is protesting as you wake up. No, scratch that. Your entire body is throbbing as you’re being jostled by each step of the one carrying. Benimaru. The scent and heat can only be his but it’s comforting to open the eyes and see the shock of dark hair flopping about, occasionally blocking the view of his right cheek bone. Somehow, probably with the help of Joker, you’ve been tied together, allowing your arms to hang limply over his shoulders while he supports your by wrapping his arms around your thighs. It’s not comfortable but it’s efficient.

“Wait,” Joker hisses from up ahead.

There’s very little light – barely enough to illuminate the obstacles littering the crumbled hallway – and you can’t see what has alerted the gangly man, but you feel the uncrowned king of Asakusa tense beneath you, his lungs slowly expanding as he takes in the surroundings.

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

... Joker ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress – he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

... Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

Eyelashes flutter for a brief second before she scrunches her face to look up at him. “Yeah yeah...I’ll let you carry me this time too.”

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sogowonly · 2 years

Text

If LOONA members would be in a House M.D. episode...

you know what the k-pop girl group loona and american tv show "house m.d." has in common? they both have been an obsession for me. so, for my first post on this tumblr, i had the most genius idea ever: i should combine both of these obsessions together. that's why i introduce to you "If LOONA members would be in a House M.D. episode...". in conclusion, i offer you short imagines on why the moon girls would end up in house m.d. & what they would do there.

- heejin

Heejin would be a patient under House's team. Her condition wouldn't be anything too life threatening but she would just require the right treatment to avoid any bigger complications. Of course, being the gym loving person, the team wouldn't be able to stop her from working out. She would often do exercises for abs in her bed and planks next to her bed. "Oh no! The patient's missing! Where did she go? Oh, never mind, I found her, she's next to her bed doing 7 minute planks!"

- hyunjin

Hyunjin would do it all to promote LOONA in the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. For starters she would put up posters of LOONA all around the hospital and give flyers to the patients and their families. After noticing Dr. House's unwillingness to do clinic hours, she would offer him to cover his hours and he would allow her to do so. In clinic, Hyunjin would prescribe to all the patients "Around You" or any other LOONA song. Later she would wonder near House's office, who would invite her in for a meeting to diagnose their patient. Hyunjin would ask to run a test on the patient - she would put on "Hi High" and after the patient would say that he didn't like it, Hyunjin would diagnose him with "bad taste".

Eventually she would get banned from Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

- haseul

Haseul would be the rich patient treated by House's team. After getting successfully treated, she would stay forever thankful for the amazing work they had done to treat her, so she would send gifts for every holiday season. Every Christmas Dr. House would get a new, customised designer cane, Dr. Cameron would get a nice Chanel or Louis Vuitton bag with a matching shade lipstick in it, Dr. Chase would get a set of a nice designer dress shirt and tie while Dr. Foreman would receive expensive shoes from Haseul. All of their gift packages would include thank-you notes from Haseul with cute, personalised well wishes.

- yeojin

Wanting to earn some pocket money for herself, Yeojin would attempt to find a job. Weirdly enough, she would end up at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and spot House. She would ask him if by any chance he's in a need of employees. He would ask her what's her speciality? "Specialty? What do you mean by that?" she would ask in return. "Like, medical speciality," House would reply. "Oh no, I'm not a doctor but tell me what speciality you need, I can look up some tutorials." Hearing that, Dr. House would turn to leave but Yeojin would offer him to work as his personal assistant - make coffee, do some paperwork and stuff. He would agree to annoy Cuddy and so Yeojin would work as his PA for a month or two.

- vivi

After Cameron leaving the team, House was forced by Wilson to find a member to fill in for her. Vivi would be one of the candidates, specialising in paediatrics. When House would question her on why he should hire her when he has a "fully capable team", she would answer back by asking if any of them are fully capable of holding a conversation in Cantonese or Mandarin Chinese. Then they would hold the interview in Mandarin where House would admit that no one speaks neither Cantonese or Mandarin in his team. He would also be impressed by her However, they both would agree to not hire Vivi because House wants to get Cameron back on the team and Vivi should audition for that K-Pop company to fulfil her dreams. Later he would often watch LOONA content on YouTube with Vivi being his bias.

- kim lip

She would appear in their conference room, stating that she's the new doctor that Cuddy hired for the team. When House would question why he was not informed about the new addition, she would respond that Dr. Cuddy has been too busy with meetings to inform them. During the diagnosis process, Dr. Lip would insist that the patient has Covid-19: a disease no one on the team had ever heard about. After diagnosing the patient (not with Covid-19), Kim Lip would suddenly disappear. Dr. Cuddy would deny ever hiring a Kim Lip and no one would ever hear about Dr. Kim Lip again.

- jinsoul

Jinsoul would meet Dr. House as a clinic patient. After recording for "Love Cherry Motion" with ODD EYE CIRCLE, the amount of times Jinsoul had bumped her head against the ceiling of the set was worrying, so the staff sent her to the nearest hospital just to be sure she's ok (A/N: let's pretend the set of Love Cherry Motion was in New Jersey 😩). After being asked by House why she'd bump into the ceiling so often, she would respond: "Well, I'm pretty tall - I'm currently one of the tallest members in our team." Then House's 188 centimetre tall self would just stare down at 164 centimetre tall Jinsoul.

- choerry

Choerry would accompany Jinsoul to the hospital. While Jinsoul would get checked by House, Choerry would use the free time to explore the hospital. She would end up in the floor where the team's room is. Seeing it empty with a blank whiteboard, Choerry would enter the room and decorate the whiteboard with small, cute drawings. However, wherever there is a set of whiteboard markers, there is a permanent marker to spice things up. So, the drawings on the whiteboard would stay there permanently, forcing the team to write new patient's symptoms on a glass.

- yves

The diagnostics team would have issues with treating Yves because she would try to talk the other patients in escaping the hospital with her way too often. She would do it for no specific reason at all making the team and nurses run around the hospital and it's territory every two days to find Yves and all the other patients she had talked into escaping. They would try their best to discharge Yves as soon as possible to avoid more situations like these.

- chuu

Chuu would work in the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital as a volunteer - she would give out stuffed toys to kids who would end up in the hospital. However, she would take a big liking towards House's team, so she would spend most of her free time staring at the team from the other side of the glass, follow them around and leaving cute notes with cupcakes on their desks. Even though they would find it weird at first, they would come to love Chuu and sometimes even include her in their meetings (where she would say the most random stuff and House would turn her words into an actual diagnosis).

- gowon

When the team would have complications to communicate with a Korean patient who speaks almost no English, Gowon would pop out of nowhere to offer translation services for free. She would stay with the patient and speak with her all the time, occasionally translating the doctors' questions for her and vice versa. However, Gowon would pronounce all the diagnosis in English with a Korean accent and mostly her translations wouldn't make much sense. She just offered to translate because she felt like doing so.

- olivia hye

Olivia Hye would show up at the most random times but always with the same goal: to take over House's place as the Head of the Diagnostics Department. Would she have any kind of medical education? No. Would she actually want to be the head of the department or a doctor? No. Her competitive ass just simply would want to take over House's place.

#loona the world #girl of the month #loona #loona imagines #loona incorrect quotes #house md imagine #house md #greg house #heejin #hyunjin loona #yeojin #haseul #vivi loona #kim lip #jinsoul #choerry #yves #gowon #olivia hye

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yuckydraws · 3 years

Note

A writing prompt, hmm? Why don't you try writing some fluff with horror sans? (he's one of your favorites right?) Maybe going on a picnic?

He very much is one of my faves<3 thanks for the prompt bro!!

Okay so this is mostly fluff but I threw the tiniest bit of angst in there, but it’s very mild (tbh I’m not sure I could even call it angst). Just to give it some plot;)

Also sorry for the awkward spacing I pasted this from Google docs and tumblr is being difficult >:(

(HT!Sans/reader)

•••••••

“Hey, how willing would you be to put on this blindfold and come with me?” You ask your skeleton boyfriend as you lounge on the couch, blindfold in hand.

“.... huh?” Sans blinks at you in confusion. He was on his way to sit on the couch when you spring the question on him. It stops him in his tracks, leaving him to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“I said, how willing are you to put on this blindfold and come with me?” You repeat yourself, holding up the blindfold excitedly. Yeah that might not be the best way to phrase it, but hey, you’ve made it this far - might as well commit. He stares at the offending object, squinting a bit with his one eyelight.

“... no.”

“C'mon, please?”

“no.”

“Please?”

“no.”

“Why not?” You pout and he gets a twinge of maroon on his cheekbones.

“... why do i need… to wear a blindfold?” He asks while averting his gaze from your pout. You take it in stride and instead shift your position on the couch to meet his gaze again, smiling up at him.

“Because it’s a surprise!”

“don’t like surprises…” Despite his words, it’s obvious you’re wearing him down.

“It’s a good surprise!”

Sans doesn’t look entirely convinced. You stand up and grab one of his large hands in both of your small ones (at least small compared to his), and give him a reassuring squeeze.

“I promise.” You both don’t use this word lightly.

Sans stares down at you.

You stare back.

“... ok.” He caves.

“Yay! Now lean down big guy, I need to be able to tie this.” He complies, staring at you until his sockets are eventually covered. You’re careful of the gaping hole in his skull and make sure not to tie it too tight - to avoid potentially irritating his dead socket. When you finish you take advantage of his close face and kiss him on the cheek, causing him to purr and lean into the kiss.

“Pfft- you dork! C’mon, you’re gonna love it!” You say as you pull away and grab his hand to start leading him out of the front door. He was wearing his slippers, so thankfully you didn’t have to awkwardly attempt to put shoes on him. You hold back a snort at the mental image of yourself sliding shoes onto his gargantuan feet like a princess. Though you are quickly sobered when you almost trip on a porch step, leaving you to focus on helping Sans down the porch steps and leading him to your shared vehicle.

You help him get situated in the seat. In hindsight, perhaps the blindfold could’ve waited until your huge skeleton boyfriend was already in the car? Ah well, guess you both could be scatterbrained sometimes.

You smile, amused, as you remember how you both had to buy this huge van just so Sans could sit comfortably.

It’s a struggle but he’s eventually in his seat, buckled and relaxed, while you start the van and back out of the driveway. As your drive begins you turn the radio on low - hoping to ease any nerves he may still have by giving him something to focus on, while not being loud enough to give him a headache. You glance at him, feeling a bit nervous.

You guys have been dating for about four years now, and you couldn’t be happier! After three years of dating (and Papyrus going off to medical school) you both bought a small little house in the outskirts of Ebott city, and the past year had been domestic bliss for the two of you. Of course, you’ve had your ups and downs, but overall Sans has been the sweetest boyfriend you’ve ever had. He may not be much of a conversationalist, but he makes up for that with his actions. That one game you had mentioned you wanted to play once? It was on your shared nightstand a few days later. That snack he knows you like? The house is always stocked with them. Having a bad day? He will not hesitate to draw you a nice bath, pamper you, and/or initiate cuddles and kisses.

No matter what, he always finds a way to express his love for you, and lately you’ve been feeling undeserving of this almost? No that’s not the right word. You just felt like you could be doing more. Because you, on the other hand, are amazing with your words. You enjoy watching his face turn that beautiful deep maroon and hearing his purrs stutter the more he’s flustered by your words. You love to see him relax in your arms as you give him words of affirmation and assurance on bad days. You remind him of your love for him everyday and you give him all the sweet nothings he could ever want, but acts of service has always been a struggle for you. Of course, Sans never seems bothered and he’s never given you the impression that he wants more from you, but you want to try because he absolutely deserves it.

You also may have found his little pocketbook full of notes he takes throughout the day full of notes about you, your jokes, your stories, and little things you had mentioned. Due to his unfortunate head injury, he wasn’t always the best at remembering certain little things. You knew he was working on getting better, but you never pressured him to tell you how - it seemed like he didn’t want to share. You honestly felt bad you had found the book and snooped, but seeing just how much he writes about you in the notes more than anything else was just too sweet. It almost made you cry. Almost.

Ah who are you kidding? You definitely teared up.

So, you planned a little surprise date, full of his favorite things combined. The outdoors, food, and you - a picnic by the lake a little bit away from your home. After the hell monsters went through underground, most of them have a deep appreciation for the sky and full bellies (or what would be akin to a belly for them). Sans is no different, so you were hoping he’d take a liking to it.

“... how long... will the surprise take?” The question surprised you a bit, not only because it pulled you out of your musings, but because he’s usually very patient. That is, until you take in his stiff posture and realize the issue. Dinnertime is soon and he doesn’t quite know when you both will be eating.

“Don’t worry hon, we’ll have food soon,” You feel okay letting that bit of the surprise known. Despite being on the surface for almost seven years, Sans tends to get very nervous when you guys don’t stick to a schedule with meals. No need to keep him anxious. Especially considering you were pulling into the clearing of the lakeside. “In fact, we’re here!”

You put the van in park and tell Sans to wait for a second. Hopping out, you walk to the back of the van and open the back doors to grab the picnic basket you had packed. Once you make your way closer to the lakeside you quickly lay out the picnic blanket as well as place a folded blanket nearby in case it got a bit chilly. You then set up the food for a cute presentation, leaving the last part of the surprise you had for Sans in the basket. Jogging back to the van, you open Sans’ door to see he had already unbuckled himself. Guess he’s a bit more excited for the surprise than he let on earlier.

“Come on big guy, you’ve waited long enough” You grab his hand, help him out of the van and start leading him to the blacket set up.

“Can you lean down again?” You ask when you get to it. He does so and you gently take off his blindfold, making sure the fabric doesn’t catch on his skull injury or the rough bone near his dead socket. Once it’s off you gesture dramatically to the blanket. “Ta da!”

Sans stands straight up again and blinks a bit, overlooking the blanket at first, expecting something more near his sightline. Following where you're gesturing however, his eyelight eventually lands on the picnic blanket below. He still looks a bit confused. You were prepared for this type of reaction, many human activities such as picnics can be completely foreign to monsters - same for some monster activities being completely foreign to humans. You guys have had your fair share of these moments where you both have had to do a bit of explaining.

“what…?” He looks at you for an answer.

“It’s called a picnic. You pack food, take it to a scenic area, lay down a blanket, sit down, and eat. It’s sort of considered a cheesy romantic date idea, but I like them and I thought you would too... in fact I should’ve thought to take you on one of these sooner in our relationship! I actually had this idea last month, but it was too cold… also, most of the time picnics are a lunchtime date, but I like them during the sunset. It’s been awhile since our last date, huh?” You look up at him after your question to see him looking at the blanket with his face slightly red.

“... yeah i guess it has.” He has a small smile on his face and he stares down at the food.

You remember him getting very flustered when you would give him or buy him food at the beginning of your relationship. Since it was a scarcity down below, being willing to share food had a deeper intimate meaning for monsters. It meant that you loved them enough to offer a lifeline - food - that they so desperately clung to in its rarity. He still gets a little flustered now, but he’s been exposed to food sharing and he’s even come to enjoy it as a normal gesture. Though he seems a bit flustered now? Maybe because of the romantic undertone? Hmmmm, or maybe it’s because-

Your stomach decided to make itself known, growling loudly. You laugh, but Sans gives you an anxious look of concern, leading you to say:

“Well come on! Let’s eat!”

You don’t have to tell him twice, you’re both quickly seated and indulging on the yummy food you had made earlier today.

Sans makes sure you eat a good few bites before he digs in. There was a lot of it because, unsurprisingly, your mate has quite the appetite. But he still likes to wait for you to eat first no matter how much food there is. You didn’t even notice when he did that at the beginning of your relationship and when you finally did question him, he just said it was polite to wait for your mate to eat first. He didn’t elaborate more than that. When you researched into the topic you found that when there was a significant appetite difference and on the off chance there was access to food, it was polite for those with the bigger appetites to wait for the ones with smaller appetites to eat a bit first. Then it went into monster rankings, common folk monsters, boss monsters, different magic levels, etc. to which you got confused and pretty much gave up on the issue with a simple “fine, keep your secrets then” to your computer screen. You figured if Sans thought it was important for you to know he would have told you.

You both quickly fall into your normal dinner routine of you talking Sans’ nonexistent ears off about anything and everything and him listening closely, chuckling at your jokes and stories. You ended up telling him a story from highschool about your babysitting experiences.

“- and I mean she was freaking out. I was too. We were both responsible for this kid we were babysitting and we lost him. It was also super stressful because we had taken the kid all over town doing fun stuff like going to the zoo, the park, getting lunch - this kid could be anywhere! So we both decided after searching all over the house that we would drive and retrace our steps, starting at the last place we were.” You were telling your story with animated hand gestures, and Sans follows the movements with his eyelight. The sun was setting at this point, all the food was eaten, and you both were just enjoying each other's company.

“So, we get in the car - still freaking out mind you - and I asked my friend ‘should we just call his mom?’ and before my friend could answer I heard a little voice say, ‘why would you call my mom?’ I whipped my head around to see the kid just chilling in his carseat. Turns out we just forgot to unbuckle him and he had fallen asleep during the car ride! We were flipping the house upside down trying to find him and we hadn’t even taken him inside!” Sans broke out laughing at your dumb story, leaving you to grin.

“Oh sure it’s funny in hindsight, but I about peed my pants when we thought we lost him! I was so scared, what was I gonna tell his mom? ‘Hey Lisa, um it’s going great! Uh just thought you should know, we can’t find your kid and we may have lost him?’” Sans couldn’t stop laughing. You egged him on.

“Oh yeah, and wanna know the worst part? The little shit was old enough and clever enough to figure out what happened and we had to bribe him with ice cream to keep him quiet.” Sans let out boisterous laughter and fell back so that he was laying on the ground. You couldn’t help but join in at that point. You didn’t particularly think the story was all that funny but when Sans laughs like this, it’s infectious.

After you both calm down a bit, you look at Sans to see him gazing at you lovingly. You love this content expression he makes, when his eyelight gets all fuzzy and dilated, it makes you feel so special and loved. It’s his expression reserved only for you (and maybe that stew you made last week, he seemed to be pretty taken with that as well).

“... thank you, for tonight.”

“Dawww you big softie! Of course! It was the least I could do for you, you always make sure I’m happy and content. I wanted to give you something like that.” He blushes, but he also furrows his brows a bit.

“you don’t need to feel… like you owe me more, i do it because… i love you.” Of course, you knew this, but hearing him say it? It had you tearing up a bit. He reaches for you and you lean into his embrace, leaving you both cuddling on the ground. You sniff a bit, trying to stop the crying before it really starts.

“I know, I’ve been trying to drill that into my head, but you deserved tonight and I’m glad I went through with this. It was fun! I might plan more dates in the future. In fact I think I’m pretty good at it!” You jokingly say with all the unearned confidence in the world. Sans chuckles and pulls you closer and despite your efforts, a few happy tears do fall, leaving him to make a concerned noise.

“you okay?” He asks, and you wave away his concern.

“I’m fine, I just love you too.”

“heh… now who’s the softie?” He gently teases, pointedly ignoring the fact that he’s blushing again.

“Pfft- I guess you’re right. Literally too, I’m the one with the flesh and skin!” He erupts into laughter again.

“Easy crowd tonight.” You joke, causing him to laugh harder and you chuckle with him.

Once he calms down, you both lay in comfortable silence, before you remember your last surprise. You shoot up into a sitting position, making Sans - who was resting his eyes comfortably - let out a surprised growl. You laugh at his reaction, reassuring him that everything is fine.

“I just have one more surprise that I thought would be fun.” You dig into the picnic basket, pulling out the surprise and grabbing that extra blanket. You lay back down with Sans and pull the blanket over you guys.

“I think it should be dark enough for this,” You hand him the surprise - a handheld telescope. “It’s not as nice as the big one you have at home, but it’s a lot easier and lighter to carry around, plue we don’t have to stand.”

Sans smiles at you.

“... do you want to learn some more… constellations?”

“Absolutely I do!”

He begins to show you the visible constellations, and you proceed to make him laugh with the made up stories for them that you swear are the true origin stories. Just relaxing and goofing off, it’s moments like these where you remember just how lucky you were to be with your gentle giant, Sans.

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theangryjikooker · 2 years

Note

(1)I'll start this by saying I'm coming in peace. I have seen all the asks you have received, from those who are angry at you and also those who feel like this is a space where they can share their opinions without the usual convincing that goes around in jikook circles. I also understand the frustrations you had, about not being able to say something without being cancelled. In my opinion, twitter culture is absolute shit, no need to expand more on that.

2) I'm also of the opinion that hyping up all jikook so called moments or making them into a big thing without any possibility for a debate is again, shit. We're all looking at it subjectively and you could be right, or others could be. This shouldn't be a big deal, as long as we all agree that it's fine. You see, unpopular opinions about jikook have been debated in jikook tumblr, without becoming some rage fest. I assume this is not possible on twitter.

3) But from all the angry asks you received, I think the issue is not necessarily (and this is just my opinion, I could be wrong) that there is disagreement on whether jikook real or theories about it, but about the approach. You focused so much on dismissing other jikookers from the beginning, instead of idk, just giving your pov about the moments you don't agree with. Instead, it's a mix of combining frustrations about jikookers and jikook as a ''ship''.

4)The lines get blurred and then you end up with angry people in your inbox, you lash out at them because of how they write and it turns into this space full of unproductive anger. Maybe I'm naive, but if your approach would have been a bit different from the start, things wouldn't have ended up like this. From what I can tell, apart from the usual trolls, jikookers on tumblr are fine debating. So what if they 100% believe jikook is real? so what if they don't?

5) All I'm saying is that this is not a one way street. The experience can get a lot better if you leave your anger at the door due to past twitter stuff and nasty people and just focus on sharing your opinions about the ship. It's all about phrasing actually, not necessarily the content. And I know that I've been giving you unsolicited advice and this is your blog, you can do whatever you want, but it's a shame that a conversation is not possible because of miscommunication.

Okay, hold on.

When have I dismissed other Jkkrs? I’m not really sure where you’re getting this impression. I have repeatedly said before that if you disagree with me and want to talk about it, that’s okay. We’re probably going to end up having to agree to disagree, but if you want to express yourself, that’s fine. I never say that I’m right or all-knowing; in fact, I deliberately mention that I--and everyone else--don’t actually know anything. That’s not something I’m making up. We’re all on the same boat. Do they assume that that’s what I mean? Judging by the things they end up telling me, yeah, and it’s why I’m always asking if people are actually understanding what I have to say in the posts I’m making.

The majority of people who watch my blog actually understand the things I’ve been saying and acknowledge the nuances in whatever it is I’m conveying, so it’s not for lack of clarity. The onus is on the toxic shippers who aren’t turning on their brains and firing before assessing the situation first.

Could I have been nicer in the beginning? On one hand, probably--if these people weren’t the same ones who flipped their shit in the first place where I had reason to come here. Maybe that’s what you would have done, I don’t know. If this has something to do with my aggressive intro post, that’s honestly how I felt. I’m tired of people thinking it’s okay to bully others, and even more tired of those who think this is somehow my doing? Why do you think I’m even here? I wouldn’t be here if my main account wasn’t constantly at risk of being deactivated, purely on the basis that I think differently than they do.

If you can’t see why this makes me angry--not just for me but for everybody else they did this to and actually pushed out of all their safe spaces--then there’s nothing more for me to say to you.

I’m not here looking for a “better” experience. It’s shitty here as it is on Twitter; the only difference is I have nothing to lose here. And if toxic shippers want to continue to diminish my presence, that’s fine by me. But like you said, it’s not a one-way street, and I’m not going to stay here sitting pretty.

#TAJ asks #questionable anon #toxic jikookers can gtfo

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roxa-sos · 4 years

Text

watch - rafe cameron, topper thornton (smut)

rafe cameron x reader x topper thornton

tw; this is pure smut. exhibitionism smut with rafe and topper (and kelce for a hot sec) THIS IS FILTHY SNDKSMKF fair WARNING there is nothing but smut xoxo also druGs drugs drugs

request; i got a million, but I'm combining a request to have rafe fuck the reader in front of topper and kelce and have rafe and topper have a threesome with the reader. it's just gonna be rafe at first but don't worry top whores i got you later on ✨ ahh. unholy reqs are the entirety of my inbox 😌

tags; @outerbxrafe @jjmaebank @bellaguarneri @kitluvs1

a/n -- this is really bad lmao, im trash at writing full smut fics so parts are just snippits. also. tumblr doesn't want me to bold/italicize things rn so pls cope w me.

•

right there. in his dad's study, where kelce, topper, rafe, and a few of their friends were doling out white powder on the desk, rafe was pushing you right up against the wall, his lips on yours.

he always kissed you like he meant it, but it was even more exciting when he was high, and it usually ended with you two alone in a room. though, he seemed a little impatient, biting at your bottom lip, pulling at the hem of your shirt. you didn't protest, with enough alcohol in you to keep you drunk for days, you let him slip his hands under your shirt, his lips finding your neck, your own hands tangled in his hair.

nobody paid attention to you two - this shit happened all the time. he'd make out with you or start removing your clothes until people left the room, never stopping. that, or he'd excuse himself, taking you to an empty bedroom.

this time he was getting a little more vicious, hungry, pulling your shirt right over your head without warning. you could hear topper and kelce still in the room, the crunch of whatever they were snorting being crushed, them giving a shout every time they snorted it.

it was hard to focus on them when you had rafe cameron shoving his hand down your shorts, though. you couldn't protest, you wanted him, then and there. he picked you up, turning to lean you on the couch, a few feet away from topper and kelce.

he slid two fingers into you, causing you to take a shaky breath, muffling a groan against his hair. the power he held over you when his hand was in your panties was unimaginable, but that was always expected with rafe. he liked power and sex while he was high, and you liked him when you were drunk, so it all fit together quite nicely.

he kept his fingers moving in and out of you at a steady rhythm, leaving bruises on your neck as his lips skimmed over your skin.

"rafe, another line?" you heard topper ask, turning to face the boy who was completely focused on you. "jesus, nevermind." he chuckled, turning back to kelce. you were a joke to those two, and honestly? you didn't mind. topper and kelce weren't the people you were trying to impress.

rafe removed his lips from your neck, sliding his hand out of your shorts before sticking his fingers in your mouth, your jaw slack. he used his other hand to pull your shorts down, pressing his hips back up against yours once his hand was back on your hip.

"dude, you're gonna fuck her here?" kelce laughed in disbelief, glancing over at rafe for a mere second.

"yeah, and you're free to watch." rafe answered in a low tone, quickly turning his attention back to you. he slid his fingers out of your mouth, moving them to unbutton his shorts.

"wait, really here?" you asked, expecting him to wait for them to leave or take you somewhere else.

"you want this or not?" his reply was enough of an answer, apparently, because he pulled his shorts and boxers down a bit and hooked his fingers in your panties, pulling them off for you.

you nodded, and seconds after that he pushed into you, causing a gasp to fall from your mouth. it felt like there were eyes on you, and there probably were. your boyfriend's best friends were feet away from you, and you were the practically completely naked girl moaning on the couch.

he kept rolling his hips against yours, his heavy breathing the only thing you could hear besides your own embarrassingly loud moans. you hung your head back as he connected his lips back to your neck, moving down to your collarbone, quickening his pace.

"rafe, i'm almost there," you panted in his ear, listening to his soft grunts.

"go ahead, baby," rafe was getting more forceful with every movement, his hands steadying you, holding your hips.

you listened to him, as always, and let go of yourself, letting him hold you up as he kept moving against you, letting you ride out your high, finishing himself slowly after. in all honesty, he was pretty vanilla in front of his friends, you didn't mind. you knew he liked having you all to himself, though, and you knew he never let you go after one round.

he pulled his shorts up, kicking your clothes to the corner before telling you to wrap your legs around his waist.

"heading upstairs," he muttered to you as you kissed his shoulder, shoving past topper and kelce, who'd been staring at your ass.

it was a little gratifying, knowing that they were interested in something that rafe wouldn't let them have.

————

rafe was far more to you in his bedroom. his hand was around your neck, making it harder to squeeze any sort of noise out of your throat as he rocked his hips against yours, telling you you had to wait until he said so until you came.

his voice was dry and raspy, his forehead was glistening with sweat. you were thankful for the view a little further down, seeing as he'd finally taken off his shirt and shorts.

"look at you, all pretty," he mumbled before removing his hand from your throat, pulling out of you quickly. he moved that hand to your clit and kept playing with it for a few moments, before nodding at you, letting you come apart once more in his hands. he slid down next to you, tossing the sheet you were under over his waist, steadying his breaths.

"oh, come on, you made her wait?" you heard a voice at the door. standing there was topper, his hand on the doorknob.

"what, you could do better?" rafe scoffed, a smug smile on his face. you'd told him yourself that rafe was as good as it got.

"watch me," topper answered, closing and locking the door behind him, taking off his polo as he approached the bed, kicking off his shorts before crawling on top of you.

your knees were still weak from rafe, your back hurt from being arched for so long, the knot in your stomach was only getting worse, so when topper pulled the sheets off of you and adjusted you so that he was breathing on your core, it sent shivers up your spine. he ran his tongue over you, and all you could do was ball up the sheets on the bed in your hands. he stayed there, teasing you for a moment before pressing his lips right above where you needed him.

he slipped his own fingers inside of you, the pad of his thumb resting against your clit. it was like he was massaging you, it was slow and torturous. you couldn't help but writhe under his hands, and he seemed to enjoy that, removing his hands to grab your wrists and hold them above your head, positioning himself over you.

"fuck, top-" you groaned, interrupted by him moving his boxers down and sliding into you.

"yeah, just like that." he chuckled, happy with the response you were giving him rather than rafe. "fuck, no wonder why he can't keep his dick off of you." he moaned, referencing rafe.

you were so close already that you couldn't help it, coming down like a whimpering mess under the boy.

"see?" he groaned with one final stroke, "way better," he let out a breath and sat up, seeing as you and rafe were taking up the whole bed.

fuck, maybe fucking in front of rafe's friends wasn't all that bad at all.

a/n -- that was so FILTHY snskmdkskc i love it.

#rafe cameron #topper thornton #smut #rafe cameron smut #topper smut #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx #obx smut #obx rafe #obx rafe smut #smut fic #rafe cameron smut fic #topper thornton smut fic #anyways #roxas filthy #roxas unholy

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ravs6709 · 3 years

Text

Euneirophrenia- Solinh

Okay, so this is a repost, but only because I was on mobile and tumblr wouldn't let me post the full thing on tumblr (so I just posted a link to ao3), because "there were too many blocks". So this time, I'm posting the actual fic!

Anyways, this fanfic was inspired by A Handmade Scrapbook on ao3 and came across a dreamsharing au. From there I immediately knew I wanted to make a Solinh oneshot

So yeah, you share your dream with someone who will be important to your life. Not necessarily romantic, it can be student and mentor, but in this case it is romantic. Anyways it’s just snapshots of Sophie’s life (mostly of being a child) and interactions with Linh

Warnings- Linh's guilt over the flooding of Atlantis is mentioned a lot, food mention, and I think that's it?

��~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie always loved hearing the stories that her parents told. She was only four years old, but she was able to picture the scenery, she was able to understand some of the things that were discussed. They were soulmates, with a bond that started at fourteen. Sophie wanted to be just like them.

That changed in the next year.

Sophie had hit her head, and then she was hearing voices everywhere. It took weeks to be able to start figuring out where each voice came from, and another to realize that she recognized those voices. They were from people that she knew.

The world as she knew it changed, harsh thoughts constantly hidden behind- fake- smiles. And with her ability to understand things easier, she knew what the people around her thought. She was able to hear their cruel thoughts, when all she wanted was for them to go away.

She kept herself distanced from her friends, because they were thinking so much and so loud she wanted to cry. No matter how much Emma and William tried to get her to go outside and make new friends, it wouldn't work.

Even if people weren't so loud, how was she supposed to deal with knowing how others truly felt about her?

Sophie knew it was an irrational thought- she was only five years old, but hearing the namecalling that was internally directed towards her hurt. Was the person who she would dreamshare with also going to act the same?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie was six years old when she found a giant mansion filled with crystals and other sparkly things. It was like the mansions in the TV shows, except way more fancy. There were paintings lined against the hallway.

"Who are you?" A soft voice asked.

Sophie turned around and saw a person with one of the faces from the paintings. They looked to be around her age, maybe a year older. They had a round face framed with long black hair. They had a soft smile which made their silvery blue eyes gleam. They were pretty.

The person's eyes widened. "You... you're hu-" they pressed their lips together, as if to cut themselves off. "You have brown eyes."

"Of course I do!" She said. "Brown eyes are common!"

She ignored the fact that she was the only one with them in her family.

"But..." they narrowed their eyes. "Where I... come from, we all have blue eyes. But I don't understand what's going on. Are you real?"

"I'm real. My name's Sophie Foster. She and her."

But as she spoke, there was no sound when she said the name Foster.

They nodded, still looking confused. "I'm Linh... she and her. I thought the dreamsharing didn't start until you were fourteen."

That was something that Sophie was confused about too. Some people started as early as nine, but that was incredibly rare. But there was another thing that was off about Linh.

"It's quiet," she whispered.

People within dreams didn’t have thoughts- for obvious reasons, but she was usually still able to hear the distant thoughts and dreams of her family. But at the moment, it was quiet. It was almost unnerving.

"What do you mean?"

This isn't a normal thing. Should I tell her? Would she believe me?

"Your mi-" No, she wasn't going to say anything. "Where are we?"

She knew that the place a dream took place would be somewhere that one of the people within the dream would know. And Sophie definitely had no idea where she was.

"It's my home," Linh replied.

"This mansion is yours?"

Linh blinked. "Where were live, we all have... mansions."

"Where do you live?" Sophie was sure that such a place would be well known. "I live in San Diego."

Once again, the words were omitted.

"Oh. I guess that doesn't work."

"Do you want me to take you around the house? I think we can explore."

Sophie smiled. "That sounds like fun!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Mom, how did it feel like when you first met dad in your dream again?"

Even if Emma didn't tell her the answer, Sophie was able to see it within her mind.

"I was in a place that felt unknown, yet also familiar. The place was vivid that I didn't think it would be from my imagination."

Sophie thought about it for a moment. Sometimes, it was hard to figure out whether she had a vivid imagination, or if it was just due to her photographic memory. She'd definitely never set a foot in a mansion, let alone one as big as the one in her dream.

"I think I shared a dream with someone," Sophie admitted.

'I think that we need to let her be outside more often. She doesn't have enough friends, so she's dreaming on imaginary friends.'

The thought was loud and clear, and she winced. It was something she wondered about. But she hadn't met anyone like Linh, and talked about her twin, Tam. There were too many details that there was no way that Sophie would be able to come up with it on her own.

"Sophie, you're only six, that wouldn't be possible."

'Maybe she never recovered from her head injury?'

•~•~•~•~•~•

The next dream didn't happen for a while, which led Sophie to believe that maybe her mom was right. It took over a month for it to happen again.

"Hello Sophie," Linh greeted.

Sophie smiled. "Hey Linh! This isn't me imagining things, am I?"

"I thought the same thing. My mother and father didn't believe me when I said I was sharing a dream. I left out the fact that you're a hu-"

Once again, Linh cut herself off. What was she talking about? This is the second time. For once, she wanted to read Linh's mind. But it was a dream, so even if she tried, it would never work.

So instead, she decided to distract herself. They weren't in the mansions this time, they were outside. It was strange though, the shops were huge and there were crystals and blue fires that burned. Sophie also noticed that there seemed to be no sky, there was something above them that was blue, but there were no clouds nor sun.

"We went shopping here today," Linh explained. She sounded a little happier than before. "I wonder if we can go inside."

It turned out that they could go inside, and Sophie wasn't surprised that it was all empty. She expected to see t-shirts or jeans but what she saw were tunics and dresses. Then again, it seemed that Linh wore a dress too.

She looked down at her own clothes, only now realizing that she wasn't in her pjyamas, but an orange shirt that had a dog on it, plus jeans.

"Can I touch the clothes?" Sophie asked.

She didn't go shopping often, especially after she started hearing the thoughts of others. The big malls were always filled with people, and she couldn't stand to be there for long periods of time. She had to rely on distractions such as music, or focusing on textures. It didn't always work out though, as her parents would always forbid her from poking around.

"I don't think what happens in our dreams will affect the outside world," Linh said, which probably meant a yes.

Slowly, Sophie walked around, trailing her finger across every piece of clothing. Everything was usually soft, she'd never felt anything like it before. She picked up one of the tunics to see what it was made of, but didn't find the material label at the back.

"What are they made of?" She asked.

Linh hummed. "I don't know. They don't tell us."

"Isn't there supposed to be a label that says that?" She checked again, then found something. There were lines joined together, but she couldn't understand any of it.

"It's a different language," Linh explained. "Wait." Her voice took on a different tone. "I'm sorry, I need to leave now, I'll see you later Sophie."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Amy was growing into an age where she was starting to make more sense of things, but was still really hyperactive. It wouldn't have been too bad, if it weren't for the fact that her mind was screaming at all times. And then she would scream too.

She still had no answers as to why Linh had left so abruptly, or why she sounded panicked. Did something happen to her family?

There was another thing that was weird though. Sometimes, she felt like Mr. Forkle- her neighbour- would he watching her. In a way, she understood why, he was the one who had found her when she hit her head. So he probably had some kind of sense of responsibility of looking after her. But his gaze felt like it was piercing her sometimes.

It was during those times when she would start feeling bad. She felt the need to doubt his intentions when she was very much able to read his thoughts.

With the combination of Amy and school, Sophie was starting to get better at ignoring the voices. They were still there, and they still hurt, but if she could just ignore it, it wouldn't hurt as much. It was a good thing she had her photographic memory, otherwise she'd probably struggle at school.

That was another thing. She'd skipped two grades, which was very clearly not normal. Her teacher was both impressed and annoyed by the quality of her work.

It's so tiring having to deal with this.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie woke up and she was in school. The classrooms were empty, the the chalkboard had writing from the math that was being taught in class.

Did I fall asleep during school?

There was no teacher in the room, which only made her panic. Where did everyone go? She looked around again, and saw someone sitting at a desk in the back corner (Sophie sat in the other corner). It took a few moments to realize that it was Linh sitting there.

"This is a dream again, isn't it?" Sophie asked.

Linh nodded, but something about her looked uneasy. "This is a dream."

"Is everything okay?"

She bit her lips, her eyes flicking everywhere, then landing on the chalkboard. "I don't understand. You're not supposed to know my language."

"I don't?" She remembered trying to read the label last time, but it never worked.

"No, I mean speaking. Where we live, we have our own special language. You shouldn't be able to communicate with me."

That was weird. Sophie would have remembered learning another language. "Maybe that's a side effect of the dream? So we can talk to each other?"

"Maybe," Linh didn't sound convinced about it. "But I don't understand why I'm dreamsharing with you. There'd be no reason for me to ever meet you. I'm not leaving where I live, and there would be no way for you to come here."

"Why not?"

It couldn't be that hard to meet Linh. All one of them had to do is be able to dream of an area with a landmark, or something that would reveal the location. Besides, they were still children, they'd have the money to travel around in the future.

"It's... a long explanation," Linh admitted. "How about you tell me about this place?"

"It's my school. Do you not go to school?"

"We get taught at home, and then when we get a little older we go to a school. But I think at the schools here, there's usually one mentor per prodigy."

Prodigy ? Is that what they call students ? And mentors for teachers?

"We definitely don't have enough teachers to do that," Sophie said with a laugh.

Linh laughed too, and her body began to visibly relax. She no longer sat up straight, and the frown that she wore disappeared.

"There's... twenty-five desks in this class? How does a teacher manage to deal with this many children at once?"

Sophie laughed. "I have no idea."

"What have you been learning about in school?"

"We've been learning about multiplying numbers and all that. I wasn't actually supposed to be in this class. I'm supposed to be in the class two grades lower than me, but I'm apparently really good at school."

She wasn't sure of what kind of expression she expected to see on Linh's face, but it wasn't one that was more thoughtful.

"What is it?" Was it one of those things that Linh couldn't bring herself to talk about?

"It's nothing."

Maybe one day, if we meet up early, I could ask her.

•~•~•~•~•~•

They were in Sophie's living room his time, and Sophie was in a good mood. The walls were decorated with streamers and the cake that she'd eaten was sitting on the table in front of her, the candles burning.

She looked around and saw Linh sitting beside her on the couch, staring at the birthday cake in awe.

"What's going on here?" Linh asked.

"It's my birthday. Or, the end of it, I guess."

"You celebrate the date of your birth?"

Sophie blinked. "You don't?"

"I think I'm nine years old, but I'm not really sure."

"I turned seven today."

"Happy... birthday?"

Sophie laughed. "Yeah, that's what you say. Thank you."

To be honest, Linh didn't look like she was nine. She looked der than Sophie, but it didn't feel like she was a whole two years older.

"Did you do anything for your birthday?"

Sophie grinned. "We used to go out, but after I started getting headaches, we've taken to staying inside. We stayed inside and had fun and played games. It was great."

With only the four of them, there weren't as many thoughts to bombard her mind with either.

"That sounds like fun."

There was something off about her tone... envy?

"Is something wrong?"

"I wouldn't want to ruin the mood."

"Linh," she reached over and took her hand. "You can tell me. You don't have to tell me everything, but you can let it out, and then we can do something as a distraction."

"My parents don't like me and my brother. We're twins, and our society doesn't like twins."

"That's stupid!" Sophie exclaimed. "I know a few sets of twins, and they seem great! It's normal!"

"It's tiring," Linh sighed. "It's really tiring."

"I'm sorry you have to go through that. Would you like a distraction? We can try eating the cake."

"What's it made of? Is there any meat?"

"Meat..? My dad's allergic to eggs, so it's completely vegetarian. Is there another concern?"

Linh's eyes widened, but then she seemed to recover. "No, I'm a vegetarian, that's all."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Sophie went to the kitchen and brought out some plates and cutlery. She came back and saw Linh staring at the cake in awe again.

"You look like you've never seen a birthday cake before," Sophie remarked.

"I haven't," Linh whispered.

"Okay, come sit next to me. You're gonna blow out the candles."

"Isn't that something you would do? Since it's your birthday?" But still, Linh moved to sit next to her.

"I mean, yeah, but I already did it. I don't know if you'll get another chance anytime soon, though when we meet up I'm definitely gonna bake you cakes. So come on, make a wish, then blow out the candles."

"Okay. Do I tell you what I wish for?"

"I think it's better kept a secret."

"Okay."

Linh closed her eyes and Sophie thought that her eyelashes were way too pretty for her own good. When she blew the candles out, she looked so happy, and Sophie wished to see Linh like that more often.

After that, Sophie set the candles aside and then cut the cake. They sat on the couches, and ate.

"Ooh, this is delicious!" Linh exclaimed. "I didn't think this cake would taste so good!"

"Yeah, it's great," Sophie agreed. "Y'know, I didn't even think of whether the dreamsharing would allow for taste, but it does."

"Oh, ew, imagine eating but with no taste at all."

"Ew, gross."

They both laughed at that.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The more and more that Sophie shared her dreams with Linh, the more she thought that Linh wasn't a normal child. Their cultures were so different, it was unlike anything she had ever seen. She tried looking up certain things, but it didn't seem to work.

The things that they did were different too. It seemed like Linh was homeschooled, but while she knew concepts, she didn't know any famous people. The food they ate was different too. They'd done a few taste tests, and Sophie learned that mallowmelt was her new favourite thing to eat. She also learned what eating something with no taste was.

"I've never had it before," Linh had told her. "I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to taste like this."

"Maybe that's why. Maybe like how the environment is somewhere where one of us has gone to, the same applies with taste. So if neither of us have tried something, it doesn't know how to register taste."

"That makes sense."

They also played video games once, and it looked like Linh never even seen an electronic before. They played Mario Kart, a classic, and one that Sophie loved playing with her family.

She knew that Linh seemed to be East Asian, but she had no clue about the specifics. Probably Vietnamese, based on the name. But still, that didn't really help in finding out where exactly Linh was, or why she seemed so out of touch with the world. She lived in a mansion, so it wasn't like money was an issue for her.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Okay, so..." Sophie began hesitantly. "I haven't told anyone this, but I have a question."

"I'll try my best to be accepting of whatever this is," Linh said.

Sophie sighed in relief. "Okay... so... what are your viewpoints on gender?"

"As in how the society treats people?"

"I mean..." Does she not know what I'm talking about? "Gender identity."

Linh looked confused. "What do you mean? We're both girls, that's our gender?"

At Sophie's dismayed look, she continued. "I genuinely don't understand, do you think you can explain? I'd like to know."

"Do you ever have a moment where you feel like you're not a girl?"

"Do you feel like a boy then?"

"No, not a boy. But not quite a girl either. Sometimes I feel like I'm just... something else. I don't really have words to explain it."

"I've never thought about it before," Linh admitted. "I don't think anyone where I live has ever thought that. But now that I think of it, I did find it... different that you told me your pronouns. I just said the same as I didn't know how to react."

"Oh. I see. You know how my pronouns were she/her before, right?" Sophie asked. "Can you use they/them pronouns for me instead?"

Linh nodded. "I'll do my best!"

They smiled. "That's the best I can ask for."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie remembered the shopping district that Linh had taken them too a while back. It only took a second for them to realize that something was wrong. The shop's were destroyed, and their was water everywhere.

"Linh! Where are you?" Again, Sophie wished that they could sense her with their telepathy.

There was silence, except for the sound of crying.

"Linh!" They followed the sound and saw Linh curled into a ball. "Linh, what happened?"

She turned to them with red eyes. "I did this."

It looked like a flood happened. There was no way a single child would cause a flood. "I'm sure you didn't do this."

There was a sob. "No, I'm not exaggerating. Everything here, the water destroying and ruining everything, I caused it. It was all my fault!"

Something this large didn't seem like it happened due to her, but it seemed like there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise.

"How did it happen?"

"I... it all peaceful... and then- I can't say, I'm sorry."

She's stuck in this place, having to relive her trauma. That can't be good for her mentally.

"It was an accident though, right? Nothing bad will happen to you, right?"

"They won't forgive me. Mh mother and father hate me right now, they think I'm a failure. The... leaders already know, and they're going to have a meeting as to what will happen to me."

Sophie didn't know much about law, but this sounded a lot like a court meeting. "They can't do that! You're what, ten? Eleven? You're just a child!"

"They might kick me out," she whispered. "And Tam..."

"Does he blame you too?" They asked.

She shook her head. "No. But... I fear that if I get kicked out, he'll do something that gets him kicked out with me. He might put himself through lots of unnecessary pain just to stay with me."

"Do you want him to stay with you?"

"I... I do. I love him more than anyone in the world. But I can't have him go through so much pain."

"I wish I could help," they murmured. "I can't do anything physically, but I wish I could change the dream or something, and we can do something as a distraction."

"Can I hold you? I think that would help. Usually when I hold Tam, I'll feel a little better."

They scooted closer to her. She patted her lap, so Sophie moved and sat there. It was nice being held actually, but they wished that this could have happened in a more positive context.

"I don't think you're a bad person, Linh," they told her. It seemed like it was something that needed to be said. "If everyone in the world ends up hating you, I won't."

The arms around them squeezed tightly. "Thank you, Sophie."

•~•~•~•~•~•

The gaps between dreamsharing were often a little long. A few days at minimum, but there have been moments where over a month would pass by. Despite that, Sophie wasn't surprised that they were sharing a a dream the very next day.

The room was large and mostly empty. It reminded them of a movie theater, except all the seats were empty, and everything was bright. Also the seats were long rows of benches. At the centre of it all, Linh was standing there. Her hair now had silver on the tips, but they chose not to mention it.

"This is where the meeting happened," Linh said. "I'm being banished from my home. And well, Tam did what I thought he would. He's letting himself be banished so he could stay with me."

"Will you be okay?" Sophie knew that if they were to get kicked out of the house, it wouldn't go well. They'd have to get a job and find some place to stay. It'd be hard to get food. And someone like Linh- who was rich- wouldn't fare too well.

"We won't actually be all by ourselves," Linh admitted. "Our official 'home' is just for the two of us, but we'll be interacting with people who'll provide us food."

"That's not as bad as it can be, then."

"I wouldn't say that. The... place we go to, it's for people like me who did things that caused harm."

"They know that you weren't being malicious, right?" Sophie asked. "Are all those people innocent? Or are there some that might genuinely be bad?"

"I don't think all of them will be innocent. But the leaders have made their decision, and I can't disobey them. Thank you though, for caring."

"I'll always care."

•~•~•~•~•~•

The dreamsharing began to happen less often, which scared Sophie at first. They also noticed that the scenery was almost always somewhere that they'd gone to, not Linh. But that was fine with them, because it meant that Linh wasn't forced to look at the area that had been flooded.

On days when the dreams were far apart, Sophie wondered if something happened to Linh. This time, they were in Sophie's room. They were more relaxed, and while she didn't look tired, she was out of breath.

"It's tough over there, isn't it?" Sophie asked.

"Yeah, a lot of exercise and training. It's what we do everyday, and its exhausting." She flopped down on to the bed. "Oh, this feels nice."

Sophie vaguely remembered how the beds felt like in Linh's home, and if she was calling their bed nice, it meant that the living conditions wherever Linh was couldn't be that good.

"Also, Sophie?"

"Yeah?"

"What other pronouns are there?"

They hummed. "There's so many, I wouldn't be able to name them all. I can look some up on my phone and we can look at them, if you want."

That's what they ended up doing, Sophie would look at some pronouns and then say them aloud, because Linh couldn't read English.

"Wait, say that one again," Linh said.

"Ve, vem, vis, verself?"

Linh nodded, and was murmuring something under her breath. "Is there a variation of it?"

"Uh. I found ve, ver, vis, verself."

"Hmm, is there one that changes up the vis?"

"Most of them do seem to but... okay, I think I've got one. Ve, ver, ver, vers, verself."

"I like the sound of that one. But also, I still like my current pronouns."

"You don't have to give them up, you know? You could use both she and ver. You could use both at the same time, or use one at a time. It's your pronouns, you get to pick."

"I'll think about it. It's a little sudden, you know?"

"I get how you feel."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Okay, so I have an answer."

"Ooh, what is it?'

"She/ve. Mix them up. If there's a change, I'll let you know."

"Okay!" Sophie smiled at ver. "You wanna play some video games now?"

She picked up a controller. "Of course."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"So, this is new."

They were outside this time, a large open environment. There were hundreds of trees, some bent over unnaturally. Sophie swore they'd seen something like that on the Internet before, but what was Linh doing there?

"It's been a while since we came somewhere that I was, right?" Ve said. "Just some more training here."

"Is it going okay?" They asked.

She shrugged. "It's alright, most of the time. They tried to get us to swim, but it's not going well."

Sophie remembered the image of the aftermath from that flood. Being surrounded by so much water must be difficult.

"I'm just glad you're doing okay," they murmured.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sometimes, Sophie wondered if they had a crush on Linh. They were able to admit that ve was pretty, and the silver tipped hair of vers looked really good with her silver-blue eyes. She was also kind too, something that Sophie desperately needed from someone.

But other moments, they wondered if it would have been someone else. If they only liked Linh so much because it was quiet. If it was someone else whose was quiet, would they have crushed on them instead?

Surprisingly, they got an answer to that (the answer being no). Sophie was on a field trip at a museum when someone came up to them and was confused that they had brown eyes.

"You have brown eyes." Linh had told them, one of the very first things that she'd ever said to them.

"Well... I do. Also, the news article misgenders me, I use they/them pronouns."

They weren't sure why they felt the need to say that, especially since they were likely never going to see that person again.

"Oh," they said. "Interesting. I'm just a boy."

Then he went and pointed towards the figure of the Albertosaurus and said some weird things. He turned to leave, but then a group of kindergarteners came screaming, their mental voices even louder.

It was weird to see him with the same pained expression they bore. He must have noticed it too. Then Sophie realized something. His mind was silent. And somehow, he knew that they were a telepath. Because Fitz- that was the boy's name- was too.

It was a blur after that, they panicked and a lantern almost killed them, and then there was the revelation that Sophie wasn't human.

"Where I... come from, we all have blue eyes." Linh had said.

There was something strange, but Sophie wasn't able to put it together.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie was given some time to think thing over. They weren't surprised to see that another shared dream was happening. They were considering the idea of telling Linh this, seeing how someone else would react. It would be a good way to figure out their own feelings towards all of what was going on.

"Okay, so..." Sophie began, because how did you tell someone that you weren't human?

"You look nervous, did something happen?"

"Okay, how familiar are you with... more unnatural things?"

Linh blinked, but her face was carefully blank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I said that it's not just humans out there, would you believe me?"

"I believe you, but can you explain some more?"

All the tension was just coming from them, Sophie knew it. Just say it!

"So I'm a telepath, and well, I have been for years, since before we met and all. But today I met someone else who was one and he told me that I'm an elf. This sounds ridiculous, right?"

To their surprise, Linh shook their head. "You're not the only one who kept secrets."

And then ver hands were moving, and there was water swirling in the air. "I'm one too. But I'm a hydrokinetic."

"Wait... you're an elf too?"

There were so many questions, like why didn't you tell me?, but they'd be a hypocrite if they actually asked that. But also, it made sense. The blue eyes. The giant crystals and mansions.

"Yeah, I am. You said you were a telepath since you were five?"

"Fitz was surprised too."

"Fitz?"

"He's the one who found me. The telepath. Do you know him?"

"No, I don't. Kind of got banished for years, remember?"

That was another thing. Fitz mentioned how Tribunals didn't happen often, because the laws weren't broken often. But Linh, ve was banished, a decision made by the leaders. The elvin leaders. And that, with the image of the flood...

It always did seem weird that there seemed to be no sky. What if it wasn't a sky? What if it was water? And Linh said that she had caused it...

"You lost control in that place, didn't you." It wasn't a question, it was a confirmation.

"You figured that out faster than I thought. So what are you going to do now? You're an elf now."

"I don't know," they whispered. "I don't know."

"I can answer more questions about you being an elf, if you'd like?"

"That would be nice."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Adjusting to Elvin life wasn't as hard as Sophie thought it was going to be. Maybe it was because they had friends, Dex, Fitz, Biana and Keefe. And not to mention Linh.

But then there were the secret organizations, and Sophie's life was quickly becoming more and more unusual. There were the kidnappings, there was Exile and the Everblaze fires. Getting through all those ordeals was a disaster, especially when things would go wrong, when people would get hurt or even killed.

Sophie was starting to realize just how flawed the Lost Cities could be, the subtle discrimination that went on, despite the claims of being inclusive. Innocents were being harmed. Seeing how the world worked made Sophie feel even more angry for what Linh was going through.

When they got a chance to join the Black Swan, they took it. They gladly took the chance to rescue Prentice. It didn't go how it was expected, and now Sophie was going to Exillium.

There was something about the area that seemed familiar. The trees were bent over. Where did I see this before? The Internet?

The test to be divided into the hemispheres was difficult, and Sophie resorted to using fire to get out. It could have gone worse, except a hydrokinetic had saved them.

I wonder how Linh will react knowing that I'm at Exillium. Training.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The activities that needed to be done were awful. Appetite suppression was by far one of the harder ones.

There was a shade who kept talking to them, he was wondering who Sophie was exactly. And why they'd thank the hydrokinetic. There wasn't anything to it though, Sophie just wanted to thank her.

Then there was the activity for swimming. The water was a cold torrent, and it was difficult. There was someone else who was struggling- the hydrokinetic. Sophie went up to her, they wanted to help, but it was best to ask for permission first.

The hydrokinetic seemed strangely relaxed after that, as if overcoming that trial was that important to her.

The shade went up to them, asking if they wanted to know what he knew about the woods. Sophie took that chance and leapt with them.

"And you're sure I can trust you, right?" He asked, once they were alone.

"Tam... I know we can trust them."

The hydrokinetic had been silent, but then she took a step forward.

... Tam?

The hydrokinetic took off her mask. "Sophie, it's me, Linh."

Linh. Linh!

Tam turned towards ver. "That's Sophie? The person you're sharing your dream with?"

Ve nodded. "I didn't realize until they were transmitting and helping me with the water."

Sophie stood for a few more seconds, shocked. Once their brain finally processed everything, they went in and gave her a hug.

"I knew that we would meet one day," they whispered. "I'm here now."

They could see Tam looking at them with a thoughtful expression. "You helped Linh during ver toughest times. I don't know how I could thank you."

"You can help me... us."

"I can trust you," he replied. "But can I trust your friends?"

"We'll see," Linh said, finally pulling away from the hug. "What I do know is that they're going to be a big part of our lives. We've gone though a lot now, but we'll go through more together. We'll tell you what we know."

Sophie nodded. "Thank you."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"You met with the two of them by yourself?" Keefe asked.

"I needed to get the information."

"But how did you know they could he tru-"

"Keefe... I've known Linh for almost eight years, I know for a fact that I can trust her."

"Linh," Mr Forkle questioned. "Linh Song?"

They turned towards him. "How do you know who that is?"

"It's hard not to have heard of the one who accidentally flooded Atlantis," he said. "She's the one you dreamshare with, right?"

"Wait," Fitz said. "You've been dreamsharing? For eight years? How come we never knew about this?"

Sophie shrugged. "I guess I just never bothered mentioning it."

"It changes a lot," Mr Forkle added. "If ve wasn't someone trustworthy, they'd be able to utilize a lot of information about Sophie, and possible harm them more. But I also know she can be trusted."

"Did you look into my dreams?"

The dreams they shared was a private space for Sophie. For it to be intruded upon-

"I had no intention. But you do know that I was the one who would teach you things in your sleep. I wasn't able to do it during the days you dreamshared."

Oh, that made more sense.

"Linh's just like us. Children who had wrong things done to them. Ve's just trying to survive."

"If you trust ver, so do I," Biana declared.

The others nodded. "Us too."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Not once did Sophie ever think it was a mistake to trust Linh. They worked together and saved the gnomes. Ve comforted them when Keefe left for the Neverseen. They helped each other. They helped her gain better control over ver hydrokinesis, and saved Atlantis in the process. They comforted her when Tam was taken by the Neverseen.

They interacted with the natural ease that came from knowing someone for a long period of time. And Sophie knew for sure that they had a crush on Linh, and they wouldn't want to have it any other way.

Together, they all managed to defeat the Neverseen, and restore some normality to the world. With a lot of the stress gone, they found it easier to think about their feelings.

"Hey Linh?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you romantically."

She scooted closer to them, then wrapped an arm around them. "I like you too. Does that mean we date now?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

And just because Sophie felt like it, they leaned in, and smiled when ve closed the gap between them. It took all of those years for things to get this far, and Sophie knew that there were only more things in store. But for now, they revelled in the moment.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Not adding a taglist because I did already post this before, but if you wanna be added/removed, just let me know!

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Episode 4 “Requirements for Lovers”

Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while, huh? Ah, the endless cycle of wanting to write and yet, astoundingly, not writing. I know it well.

Good ol' writer's block has skedaddled for a time though, so let's make good use of that and dive into Episode Four: "Requirements for Lovers."

Ohhh, YYH getting spicy with its titles 😏

Actually wait, I shouldn't be making dumb jokes just yet. First I want to acknowledge a slight change to future recaps: YYH, RWBY, and anything else I might try my hand at. Namely, a lack of pictures moving forward. A few weeks ago — months? I honestly can't keep track — tumblr implemented a new limitation where no post can have more than ten images in it. It's a move that, while I'm sure has its justifications, makes sharing analyses of visually-based media all the more difficult. I'll be doing my best moving forward to describe scenes as needed, as well as combining connected images together to stretch out my limit, but I'm not going to pretend that it'll be the same as getting the visual play-by-play we’re used to.

Tumblr certainly is a website, huh?

Anyway, we open on Yusuke once again lamenting the difficulty of hatching a spirit beast that doesn't immediately devour him from the head down. On the one hand this is an admittedly easy way to reset the story over the course of this arc — the storytelling equivalent of waking your character up each morning — yet I cannot deny that if I were undergoing a resurrection test, it would consume my every thought too. Can't really blame Yusuke for endlessly bringing the conflict up when the conflict is this deadly.

Well, deadly for a ghost, anyway.

Specifically, he's worried about how embarrassing it would be to get eaten by something that came out of an egg this tiny. I'm torn between reminding a fictional character that things grow — a pissed off chicken could kick my ass and it started out in an egg too — and just shaking my head over the absurdity of worrying about embarrassment when, you know, you would cease to exist. It's not even a matter of, "What if I die and then I'm embarrassed about it in the afterlife :( " Yusuke is already IN the afterlife. He's got nowhere to go but oblivion!

Luckily, Botan takes a more practical approach to these worries, pointing out that he'll be just fine provided he does some good deeds. Yusuke starts a rant about how do-gooders are only ever out for themselves.

Yusuke, you dumb-dumb, you're a do-gooder now. What was all that help for Kuwabara, hmm? As said, these early episodes exist in a semi-reset loop, where Yusuke needs to stew in his main character flaws for a while before any real growth starts to stick. Those flaws being, primarily, "I'm a pessimist" and "also I hate myself."

Case in point, Botan accuses him of always seeing the glass as half empty. Which, while true enough (outside of his confidence in fighting, anyway), by now we've got a pretty good sense of where Yusuke developed this attitude. He affirms this by talking about how Koenma's got him by the balls, "just another idiot abusing his power!" With an alcoholic mother and those teachers from last episode, it's no wonder Yusuke thinks this way. Mr. Takenaka's interest and Keiko's care aren't enough to combat the rest of Yusuke's experience, not when Takenaka is an outlier and Keiko is Yusuke's peer. Her desire to keep him on the right track reads only as an inevitability at best (the downside of having a perfect childhood friend), or a legitimate annoyance at worst. Or, as we'll continue to see in this episode, a way for them to flirt.

Is it any wonder Yusuke would sneer at Koenma's offer then, expecting the worst? The fact that Yusuke is still undergoing the challenge at all, no matter what he says, speaks volumes to me.

However, Botan is less than comfortable with his criticisms. She panics a bit at Yusuke insulting the (junior) ruler of the underworld so blithely. That, and the fact that he's carelessly tossing his egg around.

(Yes we’re using precious picture space for memes are you SURPRISED?)

Anyway, Botan isn't just concerned for the sake of concern. She cautions Yusuke against speaking too freely because there may be investigators checking in on his progress. No sooner does he ask what those investigators look like than one appears.

Thunder! Lighting! An energy so intense that Yusuke is briefly blinded! It is, as he says, quite the entrance. What kind of being could possibly be at the heart of such an astounding show?

Why, this teeny-tiny cutie, of course.

Remember, few appearances in YYH coincide with the character's true self. Would you ever assume this is the all-powerful investigator who holds Yusuke's future in her hands? Of course not. That's the point.

The investigator introduces herself as Sayaka and immediately demonstrates that she has no more patience for Yusuke's attitude than Botan does. "These damn kids," he mutters and my brain briefly blue screens because Yusuke. You're fourteen.

Plus, Sayaka and Botan clearly have some sort of eternal youth situation going on, so there's that too.

Sayaka is, in a word, fantastic. She pulls no punches with Yusuke, teleporting away from him with what can only be described as a shit-eating smile, all while refusing to tell him what exactly she's investigating. “I’m sorry, but that’s a secret!” However, Keiko is clearly at the forefront of her interest. She refers to her as Yusuke's "girlfriend."

Botan is more than happy to point Keiko out — because of course they're still following her around! — and pulls a Et tu, Brute? on Yususke, leading Sayaka right to her. Like most of the Underworld, Sayaka is rather shocked that the pretty, popular, scholarly girl is supposedly into the delinquent. It's the power of childhood friendship, you fools! Specifically, Sayaka references the "positive markings" that Keiko has accumulated, but the audience already knows by now that such markings are suspect at best. Yusuke himself is proof of that. So if his terrible marks don't preclude him from being a young kid's savior, should we really view Keiko's as proof of superiority?

I mean, Keiko is fantastic, but that's not really the point here.

Starting her own investigation into Yusuke's life, Sayaka begins with one hell of a bombshell: "There's no point in doing [the resurrection] if the people closest to you don't care." WOW. Not only is that a harsh assessment, it's one I don't think I can personally get behind. The offer to restore Yusuke to life is built on the acknowledgment that their system is flawed (even if there's no work to change or dismantle that system): they thought he was worthless, his sacrificial death seems to have proven them wrong, and now they want further evidence, in the form of this trial, that Yusuke is a good person at heart. The whole point of this challenge is to give him a second chance, with testimonies like Mr. Takenaka's emphasizing that Yusuke has always been capable of more, so long as he applies himself. This, as we'll see throughout the series, applies to relationships too. The Yusuke with one friend he play-fights with, a distant mother, and a school worth of kids who are terrified of his very name is not the future Yusuke they expect him to become, so... why base his resurrection on what he's already (not) accomplished? Granted, the show is very unclear about what, if anything, Sayaka will do if she decides that Yusuke doesn't have a life worth going back to (even if I have my own theory discussed at the end), but the fact that this is suddenly a factor at all seems grossly unfair, not entirely unlike Kuwabara's rigged promise. We as the audience know that people love Yusuke. Yusuke himself is beginning to acknowledge that. But if this fourteen year old delinquent truly had no one that wanted him back from the dead... isn't that all the more reason to allow a resurrection and give him the chance to build a life where he would be missed?

This stupid shonen got me thinking too much istg.

Yusuke, ever the self-deprecating pessimist, bypasses all of the above thoughts and jumps straight to, "It's clear if [Keiko] had any sense she'd want me gone." I'd find that attitude incredibly sad if I wasn't distracted by how cute Botan and Sayaka are, sitting on the oar together. The spirit girls who fly together, thrive together!

Botan starts teasing Yusuke about having a crush, which just feeds his temper and Sayaka's confusion. Deciding that she needs to gather more info, they follow along for an average day of school because these earlier episodes are, apparently, ghost-stalk Keiko hours.

We see her reading aloud in class from Heart of Darkness (not the easiest book for some middle schoolers), scoring a point during volleyball practice, refusing to let one girl cheat off her homework, but happily helping another who runs up with a question. So she's pretty, athletic, and academically successful, the trifecta for any good love interest. Sayaka is impressed not just with her "nearly perfect" scores, but also the maturity that Keiko demonstrates, such as maintaining her morals about cheating while remaining compassionate.

Actually, I really love the contrast this provides for us, the viewer. Meaning, Keiko is shown to be at her least mature when in Yusuke's presence. Not that her responses aren't justified, but watching her dramatically snatch gum from his mouth, slap him across the face, or pull crazed expressions as she yells at him is a far cry from this calm, poised, soft-spoken Keiko. It's a way to visually show us that she's comfortable in his presence, despite the suspect humor attached. Not that the Keiko we see at school is faking or anything — she is legitimately that kind and articulate — but we see that being with Yusuke allows her to relax in a way she doesn't with others. School!Keiko is, as Sayaka says, pretty much perfect, 24/7. Yusuke's Keiko is a little rougher around the edges, in a way that implies a multifaceted personality shining through.

However, the only conclusion our trio draws is that, given Keiko's accomplishments, any attraction must be one-sided.

Poor Yusuke lol.

In a plot move that is so ridiculously contrived, just as Yusuke is grappling with the accusation that Keiko couldn't possibly like him back, a "handsome boy" arrives to ask Keiko out. He says that he couldn't bear it when she stopped reading Heart of Darkness because he's fallen in love with her voice. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Please excuse me while I lose my shit over how ridiculous this is. I legitimately straight up cackled when I watched this scene.

Luckily for Mr. Absurd, Keiko takes him seriously — and lets him down easy. She says she can't be his girlfriend and when he presses the "Why?", asking if she already likes someone else, Keiko confirms that she does. This is done through a shot of her feet. Not a POV shot given the angle, but close enough that it feels like we're stepping into Keiko's shoes (haha), shyly staring down at the floor in embarrassment and regret.

Rejection complete? The guy screams.

I mean he screams.

I mean this nobody we're never gonna see again unhinges his jaw and lets out an unholy shriek the likes of which makes me shriek in utter GLEE.

It's insane. It's wonderful. I'm going to use one of my coveted image spots to show you his face:

Look at that and tell me this show isn't amazing.

Okay, I'm focusing again. As Keiko runs off Botan and Sayaka start dragging Yusuke, teasing him about how Keiko chose him over that "charming handsome boy."

...Please scroll up and look at that image again. I find YYH's definition of "charming" and "handsome" to be hilariously wrong.

Yusuke, as per usual, throws himself into damage control, claiming that Keiko didn't say who she liked, so really it could be anyone. They're not buying it. “'I like Keiko' is written all over your face!” Botan crows. Meanwhile, Sayaka is scribbling in her little investigator's journal that feelings on both side are severely misunderstood. "Suggest serious counseling."

Fantastic idea, Sayaka. I'd personally suggest counseling for the whole dying/best friend getting resurrected thing... but relationship woes work too!

We cut to later when school is out and Keiko has gone over to Yusuke's. To say that Atsuko has done a poor job of keeping the house clean lately would be a serious understatement.

Keiko points out the old food and broken glass specifically, cluing us in that this isn't just a messy environment, but a dangerous one as well. This is proven when she accidentally knocks a stack of books over and a used bowl falls onto Yusuke's face. What's interesting is that Keiko says that things are "back to normal" now, though I'm not sure if that's in reference to the state of the house, or just the note Atsuko left behind, asking Keiko to take care of Yusuke while she's out. I'm inclined towards thinking it's just the note, partly because of Keiko's shock when she first arrives, because the house wasn't shown to be in this state prior to Yusuke's death (first image above), and because the note is accompanied by a great voiceover that makes Atsuko sound quite sloshed when she left. That's what's normal, the drinking and carefree attitude, not the state of her home. If we buy that reading, it allows for another fantastic look into Atsuko's mental state. If she's already an alcoholic, the trauma of her son's death and the following revelation that he's coming back might make her struggle in other ways. Like finding cleaning to be an impossible task.

She's depressed. It doesn't excuse the state she's left Yusuke in and, as previously acknowledged, YYH is definitely not a show interested in this nuance, but I still find it fun to take what little we've gotten and run with it.

However, Keiko is firmly on team "WTF Atsuko." She hurries to make sure Yusuke wasn't hurt by the falling bowl, bemoans him being "covered in garbage," and says that leaving him in this state should be considered a felony. Knowing it's far beyond her power to fix Atsuko's failings, Keiko swears to come here after school every day until Yusuke regains his body. It's as she's cleaning him of the dust that's gathered that Keiko becomes entranced with Yusuke’s features. Particularly his lips. The soft lighting returns, their theme song swells, and Keiko gets thiiiis close to kissing Yusuke for the first time.

Which is a little weird, right? I mean, we know why Yusuke is freaking out. Beyond the embarrassment of a middle schooler receiving his first kiss while two ghost girls eagerly watch on, he's made a hobby of denouncing his interest in Keiko to anyone who will listen. But for the average viewer — for Keiko herself — don't we care the he's, you know, dead? Or if not technically dead, very unconscious? Don't get me wrong, I fully understand the appeal of this situation in a generalized, cultural sense (with the side disclaimer that I'm reading a Japanese product through an American lens). Sleeping Beauty exists for a reason and there's definitely an element of that here: a gender-reversed setup where Keiko’s kills may break the "curse" of Yusuke's untimely death. Even his in-between state of being mirrors the "death like sleep" of the fairy tale. But when you strip away those Disney-esque thoughts, we're left with a girl about to kiss an unresponsive body, not as a common gesture of care (the parent who kisses their child while they sleep), but as a first time, romantic milestone.

It's a little weird lol.

But embrace the romance! As well as its inevitable interruption. Just as Keiko is about to land a peck, the neighborhood watch committee announces a heat and fire warning, startling Keiko out of her thoughts about Yusuke's "beautiful face." (There's another gender reversal for ya.) She gasps at her almost-action, conveniently remembers that her mom wanted her to do some shopping, and hightails it out of there before embarrassment can really kill them both.

So she runs off for food... in a sweater? The outfit is cute and all, but I wonder what the animators were thinking, putting Keiko in a puffy pullover during an episode all about a heat wave.

It's about at this point that the plot goes from cute romance to absolutely buck wild. The fires the neighborhood watch committee mentioned are not, in fact, due to the overwhelming heat, but an arsonist that's going around tossing molotov cocktails through open windows. Why is he doing such a thing? I don't know. Arsonists be doing arson, I guess. The important bit is that Yusuke's place is his next target, considering that Atsuko forgot to lock the windows when she went out. Within seconds all that garbage is set ablaze, quite obviously putting Yusuke's resurrection chances at an all time low.

"Wake up, stupid!" he shouts at his unconscious body. Mood, Yusuke. That's me every morning.

So this is a full scale emergency now and everyone is scrambling trying to think of something to do. Yusuke comes up with the idea to possess himself like he did Kuwabara — nice attempt at a loophole there — but since it would technically count as his resurrection, no dice. Botan decides to go get Kuwabara himself, even though he's too far away to do anything. It's still worth a shot. Sayaka, meanwhile, watches all this unfold with a somewhat clinical detachment. She's not quite indifferent and she's definitely not cruel... she’s just not as emotionally invested in this as the other two. Which not only re-emphasizes her purpose here, as an observer judging Yusuke, but also highlights the bond Botan is forming with him. As mentioned before in regards to her hanging out with Yusuke rather than ferrying souls, Botan is well past someone assisting Yusuke simply because it's a part of her job. He's her friend.

We get some shots of the growing fire which includes a hazy texture to the animation I quite like and then we cut to Keiko several blocks away, shopping bag in hand. Word of the new fire spreads, with one bystander mentioning that it's the twelfth today.

"This is eerie.”

“Yeah, I can’t help feeling we’re under attack.”

That's because you are! Someone stop that man!

Sadly, I don't think the arsonist is mentioned again, let alone captured. We'll just have to relegate that to my incredibly niche fic wishlist.

Keiko also overhears that the latest fire is on fourth avenue, which of course is where Yusuke lives. Recognizing that he might be in trouble, she takes off at a run.

Meanwhile, Botan finds Kuwabara practicing his kicks against a Yusuke dummy. Amazing resemblance, right?

Watching for the purpose of recapping, I'm picking up on a lot of details in the animation I quite enjoy. I don't think anyone would claim that YYH, at this point in time, has the most impressive or flashy animation (the fight scenes later are another matter entirely), but there's a clear love for the product that shines through. The scared expression on Kuwabara's dummy. His unexpectedly dainty kick, complete with pointed toes. Botan's more translucent coloring to emphasize her supernatural status compared to Kuwabara. There are a lot of nice touches despite the overall simplicity.

Plus, you can't forget the lovely irony of Kuwabara fighting a defenseless "Yusuke" while the real guy actually lies defenseless amidst a fire. We already know that despite his tough talk, Kuwabara would be horrified to learn that his friend rival had died (again) in such a manner.

Capitalizing on that transparency, Botan runs a hand through Kuwabara's back to catch his attention. He gets his "tickle feeling" and instinctively looks around towards Yusuke's house, seeing the smoke. "Something tells me I should go that way." Gotta love a guy who drops everything to chase a vague, supernaturally induced hunch.

As Kuwabara leaves we cut back to Keiko arriving at the house, staring in horror at the blaze. We get an audio flashback to her talk with Yusuke where she promised to take care of his body until he got back. So she tries to run in, only for a couple of the onlookers to snag her, quite correctly keeping her from undergoing a suicide mission. We learn later that Keiko absolutely would have died without Yusuke's sacrifice, so her "You cowards!" is born more of emotion than justified accusations. It's not cowardly to look at the raging inferno in a small apartment and realize that recklessly running in will only result in two dead teens, not one.

I mean, the flames are already right there, licking the door. Even if Keiko somehow managed to avoid burns, the smoke alone would do her in. Still, Keiko tries to mitigate the damage by dumping a bucket of water over her head. As a kid I remember thinking this was the smartest thing ever. Utterly inspired. Keep that in the back of your mind, kid Clyde, for future reference. As an adult... I have no idea whether this would actually help or not lol. Any firefighters doubling as YYH fans?

Recklessness and iffy precautions aside, I can't express how much I appreciate the story giving Keiko things to do. Yusuke recognizes that she's the only one with the maturity and open-mindedness to believe in his resurrection. She's the one picking up Atsuko's slack regarding his day-to-day needs. She never hesitates for a moment, heroically throwing herself into this blaze for Yusuke's benefit. Yeah, a lot of that still falls into the emotional/domestic sphere — what we expect of the love interest in a 90s anime — but too often action stories don't have a clue what to do with their non-action characters, not even when it comes to just supporting the fighters. They're simply... there. Keiko, however, isn't window dressing. Whether it's helping Botan survive an upcoming, supernatural plague, or cheering the team on at the Dark Tournament, Keiko is an important part of the story, despite lacking the fighting prowess of the rest of the cast.

Just as important, this episode establishes a core equality between her and Yusuke. We just watched Keiko reject a (presumably) accomplished guy for him, telling the audience that these surface differences — academics, power levels, popularity, looks — don't matter to them. Yusuke is not Keiko's lesser just because he doesn't have the same scores in Sayaka's book and Keiko won't become Yusuke's lesser just because she doesn't have spiritual power like he does. The only important thing here is that they love each other and they're both willing to sacrifice everything for the other. In the span of about ten minutes, Keiko nearly gives up her life for Yusuke and, in turn, Yusuke gives up his resurrection for her. The level of care they show towards one another is balanced, despite those differences.

They’re a good ship, y'all. Even if this recapping's got me noticing Yusuke/Kuwabara potential lol.

To get back to the plot, a drenched Keiko charges into the fire, yelling Yusuke's name for the drama of it because we all know he can't respond. Despite the audience (hopefully) recognizing Keiko and Yusuke's equality, that memo hasn't reached Yusuke yet. "You're a lot more important to this world than I am!" he yells, hammering home that despite everything — knowing he instinctively saved a child, watching his loved ones grieve for him, helping Kuwabara just because he can — Yusuke still, deep down, believes that he doesn't deserve to come back; that he doesn't measure up to those around him. The self-sacrificial nature this insecurity produces shocks Sayaka. She points out that if Keiko doesn't save his body, he's not coming back. "What's the point of being alive if Keiko has to get killed for it?"

Keiko means more to Yusuke than the rest of his living existence. Jot that down in your notebook, Sayaka!

Kuwabara arrives and runs into one of his friends who informs him that Keiko just went inside. “Yusuke’s girl? The one we saved from those thugs?”

BOY does that tell us a lot about their rivalry! I mean yeah, we've already established several times over that Kuwabara — just like Yusuke himself — is not the cruel street thug he'd like to present himself as. If these characters actually wanted to hurt each other outside of a martial arts challenge, don't you think Kuwabara would capitalize on the "Yusuke's girl" bit? Everyone seems to know that they have feelings for each other, but Kuwabara never once wields that as ammunition against Yusuke. There are no taunts about him not being good enough. Or rather, I should clarify there are no serious taunts — Kuwabara is well known for his teasing. There's also no attempt to steal Keiko out from under him, the common treatment of the love interest as a "prize" that many stories fall into. Indeed, later this episode YYH will deconstruct this a bit. Yusuke sees Kuwabara grab Keiko's hand and yells that he better not be getting "fresh" with her. But it's purely Yusuke's worries shining through. The audience gets a crystal clear picture of the situation and knows, categorically, that Kuwabara has only the most innocent of intentions in holding Keiko's hand.

(Well, running from the police isn't innocent, but...)

I keep getting sidetracked. Plot! Keiko makes it to Yusuke's room and finds that he is already on fire. She then proceeds to try and put it out by patting it with her hands. I take back what I said about Keiko's smarts in this scene. Now we know where that supposed recklessness comes from though. Apparently they're both immune to fire! Nothing to worry about here, folks.

JK she's actually in danger, despite the animation choices. By this point everyone, including Keiko, realizes that there's no way out: the fire has blocked the door. Sayaka then reveals that there is one way to save her. If Yusuke throws his egg into the fire, the energy of the spirit beast will release and guide her to safety. The catch? Hatch the egg early and it won't complete its intended function of guiding him back to his body. This beast is gonna guide one person and that is it.

Cue Yusuke's near immediate decision to sacrifice his life for Keiko's. Granted, it's not precisely one life for another. Yusuke's resurrection was always contingent upon the beast not devouring him whole — something Koenma claims would have happened at the end of the episode — meaning that it's not technically a fair trade. Yusuke might have sacrificed Keiko's life for his own... only to fail to get that life back anyway. (There's a tragedy for ya.) To say nothing of how Yusuke is currently dead and has been for at least a couple of days, whereas Keiko very much is not. There's some sort of philosophical discussion there about potential being pit against current reality.

BUT that's not the point! The emotional point is that he sacrificed his life for hers — the potential of his resurrection, the potential of that life he might have led — all technicalities aside. And I, for one, think that's very neat of him.

A blue light shines as the egg's energy is released, providing a lovely contrast to the fire surrounding them. A path forms to the door and Keiko, recognizing Yusuke's presence, follows it. "We'll make it, Yusuke," Keiko says, which is one hell of a sucker-punch now that we know she's just carrying a corpse. Unbeknownst to Keiko, Yusuke is very much not making it. That's the only reason why she is.

Kuwabara appears to help them the rest of the way which is also a pretty awesome thing considering that, from everyone else's perspective, the fire is still raging and blocking the door. Despite his spiritual awareness, Kuwabara gives no indication that he noticed this strange light, or Yusuke's hand in the rescue. Which basically means he lunged into a bunch of deadly fire for Keiko and doesn't question how in the world he isn't burned.

Keiko's hands are fine, Kuwabara's whole body is fine... fire immunity must run in the friend group!

Yusuke has another rare moment of vulnerability — "They're both okay" — and I cackle happily at the "both" because see. You love Kuwabara too, Yusuke! All this bluster about hating him and finding him annoying. The second he rushed into that fire you were crawling up the walls.

Except then that happiness gives way to something that sounds a little more shocked. Devastated. "Well, I sure am... relieved..." Kudos to Cook's voice acting. You can hear the exact moment Yusuke realizes what he's done. Not that he regrets it, but the consequences are finally sinking in. He's relieved that they're safe, yes, but now he's never going to be able to rejoin them.

As Yusuke has an(other) existential crisis, Kuwabara peels back the blanket Keiko had wrapped Yusuke in, revealing his face. “What are you doing with Yusuke’s body?! Are you some type of sick grave robber?” he shouts. God I love when a story actually keeps track of who knows what. Kuwabara, for all his recent involvement in the plot, doesn't actually know what's going on. From his perspective Yusuke died, he made a scene at the wake, he saved "his girl" from a bunch of thugs, lost a huge chunk of time only to wake up with her randomly hugging him (then slapping him), participated in a bet with his awful teacher and had a couple weird, Yusuke related dreams while studying, and has felt the presence of ghosts perhaps a little more frequently than usual. Now he's trying to help save Keiko from a fire only for her to reveal she risked her own life for Yusuke's body. Of course he's freaking out! What's she doing with that?

What's utterly fantastic though is that Kuwabara takes all of five seconds to process this and then enters immediate Ride or Die mode for Keiko. She's been hoarding Yusuke's body for undetermined reasons? Well, who is he to judge? The important thing here is that people are arrested for keeping bodies, so they've gotta skedaddle before the firefighters show up.

Hence, hand-holding and avoiding arrest.

As Yusuke starts threatening Kuwabara not to get "fresh" with her, Botan sadly reminds him that he no longer has a say in who Keiko does or does not fall in love with. The switch in tone is jarring. Whereas before Botan would have teased him mercilessly for the crush, now she knows that nothing can come of that — and it would be cruel not to remind Yusuke of that too.

"Oh no. I didn't think..." Yusuke whispers, further establishing that he knew the risks of using his egg, but hadn't allowed them to sink in yet. Now they have.

He gives a fake little laugh with, "Just when it was getting good" and I cry at the development in the span of just four episodes. Despite what I said at the beginning about the show resetting each week, there has been a lot of change thus far. Yusuke wants to live now! He wants to be there for Keiko! He looks down on his tiny family and screams at the unfairness of it all! They're talking about how they can't wait for him to come back and now that's never gonna happen!!

It hurts, friends. It hurts a whole lot.

During this conversation between Keiko, Atsuko, and Kuwabara, we see that a couple of hours have passed (it's nighttime now, the fire is out) and Atsuko is apologizing for putting them all in danger like that. And by that I mean yes, she does technically apologize with an "I'm sorry" and everything, but it's also a one sentence apology pit against... well, near death for the three people standing (and sitting) before her. Atsuko seems just as concerned by Keiko losing her hair as she does Keiko nearly burning to death and she kneels by Yusuke's wheelchair, baby-talking to him about how he forgives her, right? I love Atsuko, she's great, but objectively speaking she is not a good mother. Not right now, anyway.

Oh yeah, and just to reiterate that: Keiko's hands are fine after patting down Yusuke's on-fire body, but her hair, which I'm pretty sure never catches, has to be cut short. Ah, anime logic. Funny thing is, YYH isn't the only story to take the love interest and give her a cool, short cut thanks to a traumatic event. Anyone read Ranma 1/2?

During this conversation we also learn that, sometime between the fire and now, Keiko filled Kuwabara in on everything that's happening with Yusuke. Makes sense. He kneels beside the wheelchair, joining the others in telling Yusuke that they'll wait patiently for his return. Yusuke, above them, continues yelling about how they're waiting on a dead man.

“It can’t be helped. He made this decision on his own."

Except it can, in fact, be helped!

Just as all hope is truly lost, Koenma appears and announces that Yusuke will be returned to life. Why? Because sacrificing his egg for Keiko is a better indicator of his worth than the egg itself could have been. Despite feeding on his negative outlook and heading towards biting Yusuke's head off — something the animation backs up by showing us teeth during the fire

— Yusuke's act demonstrates a tendency towards being a "decent human being" that is "so rare." Wow. That's depressing. Still, yay that Yusuke has those qualities! And this, to my mind, helps explain Sayaka's presence. Koenma recognized that judging Yusuke couldn't be left to the egg alone and indeed, Sayaka took note of his worth before he ever threw the egg into the fire. First it was questioning why someone as amazing as Keiko would go for him, then it was solidified through the shock of Yusuke announcing that coming back to life was meaningless if she wasn't in it. Even if Keiko had somehow, miraculously escaped the fire before Yusuke's sacrifice, I bet Sayaka's report would have tipped him in resurrection's favor anyway.

Everyone is, of course, overjoyed and my heart swells at the intense gratitude Yusuke displays. My favorite part though is when Koenma cryptically says that “Your added experience with death could make you very useful" (a nod towards future events that goes right over Yusuke's head) and his response to this is a yelled, "YOU THINK I'M USEFUL?" This poor kid. The God of everything ever is chucking out revelations left and right, about resurrections and spirit beasts, but the only thing that really penetrates is the realization that someone thinks he's useful. Talk about relatable.

You know, I've been thinking about why this moment works so well. I mean, there are a lot of other stories where undermining the consequences our hero faces — either with humor, or by erasing them completely — can feel like the audience was cheated. I think YYH dodged that with a couple of crucial factors. First, Yusuke's consequence isn't something new that he's now avoided, it's just a permanent extension of something he was already dealing with. We did get to watch him inhabit the space between life and death, grappling with whether he'd ever be able to return. The story didn't deny us that growth, it just confirmed something we all instinctively knew: this tale won't end here with Yusuke permanently going to some afterlife. Second, the Deus ex Machina fix doesn't happen too soon. Yeah, it's only a couple of minutes in a single episode, but we (and Yusuke) still get to sit with that outcome for a while, soaking it in before its removal. Finally, there's no doubt that Yusuke earned this reprieve. Koenma's timing might be sudden and (if you're not genre savvy) unexpected, but looking back at the series as a whole thus far, we're able to agree absolutely that Yusuke deserves this. Far from feeling like we were cheated, this solution invites just as much celebration as we're seeing on screen, for the simple reason that we can buy into Koenma's reasoning. We know now that Yusuke is a good person. We saw him selflessly sacrifice his future for Keiko. We agree that he deserves a second chance.

Thus, the episode ends with Yusuke flying up to fill the screen in his joy, a far better, final shot than Harry Potter and The Prison of Azkaban managed 😰

And that's it for Episode 4, folks! See you later for Episode 5 💕

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH Recaps #mymetas

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gallavictorious · 3 years

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Once again the fandom coming together to daydream about Mickey helping Ian out and seeing him back on track to become an emt again but why is that on Mickey? Why does he always have to do things to make Ian happy when Ian's usually nothing but annoyed by Mickey and does nothing to make Mickey happy? Truly shows which character y'all care about more.

This got absurdly long, because I am who I am and did take the opportunity to go off on a tangent about valid conclusions and what not, so I put it under a cut. Read at your own risk! Oh, and I also do address the actual question about whether or not Ian's career is on Mickey, and whether or not Ian never does anything to make Mickey happy. ;)

For the sake of clarity, I got this ask in response to this post.

And I gotta say, nonnie, getting this ask perplexed me to the point of running off to Trusted Fandom Friends, demanding to know how my undying love and loyalty for Mickey could ever be doubted. Had to laugh at myself a little, actually, and the strenght of my befuddlement. It reminded me of the time I went on a trip with people from the 501st (cosplayers dedicated to the bad guys in Star Wars) and Rebel Legion (cosplayers dedicated to the good guys in Star Wars) and a lot of people assumed I was a Rebel sympathizer simply because I had friends in that group and those were the people who had invited me. Excuse me, I didn't yell, I have like 30 Darth Vaders in my damned home, how dare you question my allegiance? I was so used to always being known as a diehard Vaderkin fangirl that the mer fact of strangers failing to recognize me as such genuinely fucked a little with my sense of identity. My love of Mickey isn't anywhere near as deeply ingrained into my sense of self, since he's only been an occasional presence in my life since 2016 while Darth Vader's been my main man since 1994, but it was still a little jarring to suddenly find myself (mis)identified as an Ian stan.

Being a fangirl is strange.

And I want to make it clear that I do love Ian. He's a fascinating character and, to me, he's a character that's often much harder to understand than Mickey. He rewards careful analysis and discussion, though, so I guess I tend to talk a lot about him? I don't need to spend as much time considering Mickey's feelings and motivations because they are (almost) always pretty obvious; I don't need to tease them out. But at the end of the day, Mickey is my favourite. (Though I'll always love Ian and Mickey together more than I love either of them on their own. It's like fresh cilantro and mint – each perfectly lovely in their own right, but the combination of them creates a flavour that's just out of this world.)

Now, you might argue that you don't follow me and so have no idea who I am and what I like to post about, and that going only by that single post (which, in fairness, was tagged with 'i just want ian to be happy okay?') I give off the general impression of an Ian stan. And that's fair enough; I'm an obscure blog in a decently big fandom and you're not required to keep track of anyone. However, if you want to throw around passive aggressive accusations of caring more about one character than the other, I will ask you to do your research first. Reacting to one single piece of data without considering the context is a common but highly unfortunate practice that needlessly complicates meaningful conversations, and we'd all do well to abstain from it.

Oh, you don't want to spend a lot of time and energy on consdering every single thing a specific Tumblr blog has ever said on a specific topic just so you can draw a valid conclusion about their stance? That's perfectly understandable, nonnie, and easily sorted: refrain from making unsubstantiated claims about what other people think or don't think and you won't have to. Ask them, if you wonder. If you see a tendency in fandom to put the responsibility for Ian's wellbeing and career or Mickey's shoulders and want to discuss that, that's totally cool! I am game (and will address that question below)! But it's very possible to do that without somewhat rudely ascribing perferences and opinions to other people, and you'll get better answers for it (for instance, you won't have to wade through me rambling on about valid conclusions and my memories from other fandoms... ).

It seems to me, though, that this touches upon a long-held frustration of yours. If I interpret your ask correctly, you think the show gives us an Ian who is mostly annoyed with Mickey and doesn't do anything to make him happy, and you think that the fandom responds to this by relegating Mickey to the role of Ian's caretaker, whose sole purpose is to serve Ian's needs without any regard for what might Mickey himself happy. Have I got that right?

If so, it should be noted that I don't agree with either of these takes: I don't think that's the Ian the show gives us (a point I will return to below), and I don't think that fandom at large only cares about Ian's happiness, and I particularly don't think that my post can be used a evidence of the latter.

For instance, when you sent me this ask the post in question had all of 40 notes. As I write this, it has just over 70. ”The fandom coming together” seems to be slightly overstating the case, don't you think? There are certainly fans who care more about Ian and only see Mickey as valuable as long as he contributes to Ian's happiness, just as there are fans who care more about Mickey and only see Ian as valuable as long as he contributes to Mickey's happiness - but this single post with less than a hundred notes does not support that either of these stances would be predominant within the fandom. (And, while on the topic, I'd like to state that I don't actually see a problem with either of those stances; these are fictional characters that exists for our entertainment and we don't have any moral obligations to treat them equally and fairly. Don't ruin other fans' fun by dumping on either of them in the character or shipping tags or on character and shipping posts and this is not a problem. It might be a somewhat unpopular opinion, but I don't think you have to love or even like all characters in a ship to ship it: I refuse to drink plain tea because it's nasty but put a splash of milk in it and its my favourite thing ever. You can love a combination without loving all the seperate pieces on their own. And yeah, I do revert to food metaphors a lot. I like food.)

Secondly, whether or not the post can be said to represent the feeling of the fandom at large (it cannot), I think that reading a post specifically about ”Mickey helping Ian out and seeing him back on track to become an emt again” and then extrapolating from that that Mickey ”always have to do things to make Ian happy” is a little wild. The very first thing I wrote for this fandom was a vision of Ian offering Mickey comfort, goddammit. (Ian giving Mickey a hug is so high on my list of desires, you can't even imagine)

As for your actual question (and, ah, imagine how much shorter this post would be if you had just left it at that) – of course that's not on Mickey. That much, incidentally, I've actually explicitly stated in another post. Ian might have his issues but he's still an adult and responsible for himself. That being said, I don't see it as particularly strange that someone would go out of their way to help their partner when they see them struggling? If I realize that someone I care about is unhappy and there's a way for me to help, I would want to help because I love them and want them to be happy, even if it's – ethically speaking – not my responsibility to do so. Pretty sure Mickey, who is action-oriented and so very protective of the people he loves, feels the same way.

Of course, if it's a one-sided thing – if one partner is always the one to do stuff for the other and never receives any support in return – that's not a healthy relationship, and I assume that this is what you're seeing in the show and taking exception to?

Only... I can't help but wonder who this Ian is, this uncaring, selfish version you see – because I don't quite get how it can be the Ian who emptied his bank account for Mickey, or the Ian who was ready to throw his parole and stay in prison for Mickey even when they were in the middle of a fight specifically because Mickey said it would make him happy, or the one who kept trying to talk to Mickey and win him back after Mickey punched him in the face, accidentally broke his leg, and took off with a new lover (I'm not taking sides in this one, btw – I have a lot of sympathy and understanding for both of them and their actions throughout this whole sorry affair), or the Ian who immediately wanted to marry Mickey protect him from the consequences of a murder Ian thought he had actually comitted, or the Ian who went along with arranging a real wedding even though he initially didn't at all understand why this was important to Mickey and who had someone come serenade him once he did, or the Ian who chose At last for Mickey to walk up to the aisle to, or the Ian who keeps trying to reach out to Mickey and to touch him and discuss their issues in a mature way even when he's (justifiably) upset about Mickey using all their wedding money without telling Ian. (Though Ian deciding for both of them that they're saving the money isn't great either.)

I mean, Ian's absolutely done shitty things, as has Mickey. They're human, and they're the products of a chaotic and often hostile enviroment. They do mess up a lot; they've hurt each other rather badly over the years. Depending on your perspective and preferences, you may think one or the other have behaved worse, but as far as I can see, the claim that Ian never does anything to make Mickey happy is simply not supported.

Ian has seemed unusually annoyed with Mickey this season, I'll give you that, but while that's not always the most fun thing to watch and I strongly sympathize with the wish to just see Ian look at Mickey with that fond look again, I don't find him being frustrated right now all that weird, given the circumstances. I'd argue it has less to do with Mickey and more to do with a general frustration over thwarted ambitions and not being able to hold on even to a really shitty job, though Mickey's attitude doesn’t exactly help (which is not to say that I think that Ian's the one in the right here, becasue Ian's way of handling things hasn't always been been stellar either). However, I do have faith in them sorting this out – because even though they fight and bicker and get annoyed with each other, there's never any indication that they're not both committed to making this marriage thing work. They certainly stumble, they misunderstand each other and lash out, but they calm down and go to sleep in the same bed and compromise and keep trying. Every day, they – both of them – choose each other.

I'd like to finish this off by noting, even though it's not entirely relevant to my argument, that that the number one thing that does make Mickey happy is being together with Ian, and even when Ian is pissed at Mickey and withholding sex (which was very ill-advised but says a lot of interesting things about his character, I think!) no one's sleeping on the couch, there are no nights away from the house and each other, and even in the middle of an argument they sit and stand next to each other. I think that's pretty telling of Ian's dedication, especially given his propensity for running away from his problems.

Phew. Okay, nonnie – though we don't agree and I doubt you'll find this answer satisfactory, I hope you see that I have done my best to understand your point of view and treat your arguments fairly and give you a thoughtful response. If you'd like to get back to me and elaborate on your stance, I'd ask that you show me the same courtesy. :)

#asks #i don't even know what to tag this i spent five hours writing it and my brain is mush #meta #i guess?

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cakesunflower · 4 years

Text

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 1

A/N: the title is STUPID long. like a whole ass mouthful. but it is what it is. before y’all dive in, i just wanna say that this fic would NOT be possible without @bigheadbabybitch (it’s not letting me tag her bc tumblr is a whore) but god DAMN without her, this fic would not be what it is. every scene is planned with her and made better with her. i’m very lucky to be working with this on her.

Josie’s Face Claim here!

so, without further ado, here’s part 1 of my new brother’s best friend!Cal fic!!

She never experienced feeling the weight of someone’s eyes on her until this moment.

It wasn’t like Josie didn’t want to return his gaze—she just couldn’t, not if she wanted to freeze where she stood. She could feel his intense gaze on her the moment he had walked into her older brother’s house. What she had expected to be a celebration turned into an internal prison as she found herself contemplating what exactly he was thinking about. The way he had been looking at her. . . She didn’t think either of them knew just how much power he held over her. So Josie pretended to be oblivious, acted as though his stare wasn’t burning right through her skin as she talked to friends of her brother’s she was only vaguely familiar with. She had a good excuse, too; after all, Luke had thrown this party to welcome her to California, had been a good older—by three years—brother and opened his home to her so she had a place to stay right after graduating college while looking for one of her own. And nothing said welcome like a good house party. At least, according to Luke Hemmings, anyway.

A soft smile played on her lips as she nursed her drink, thinking of her brother’s welcoming arms. The warm welcome she received was one that calmed her nerves, at first feeling like she was intruding when she moved into Luke’s home, despite his encouragement. Her brother wanted her to move in with him, and yet there was still a small part of Josie that had felt as though she was encroaching on his space. But it came with the territory of being labeled as the little sister among the inseparable group of her brother and his best friends, always feeling as though she was pushing herself into their friend group, even if her company was welcomed.

Eventually, she finished her drink and was in need of more, excusing herself from the group she was chatting with before making her way to the kitchen. Luke’s house was one she loved, proud of her brother for doing so well for himself, starting off as an accountant by using the math skills their mom instilled in them before rising to the top. High ceilings and lots of windows with a view of the trees and hills of the Valley, and an open space that was so much better than the cramped dorm room she’d been living in for too long. Her brother’s spacious home was definitely an upgrade. Josie knew she’d enjoy living in a space where she wouldn’t have to stack her belongings on top of one another, now having room to spread out comfortably.

Too busy admiring her new—albeit temporary—home and pouring herself another drink, Josie had become unaware of who she’d moved towards until the familiar voice spoke up nonchalantly, “You look like you’re fittin’ right in.”

Josie put down the bottle of Coke, biting the inside of her lower lip as she raised her head to finally meet the gaze she had been avoiding. His voice was unmistakable, eyes sharp as always as she schooled her expression into one of ease right when she looked at him. She went from chewing on her lower lip to biting the tip of her tongue to focus on the sting rather than the quickening of her heart. Her skin felt warm, frustration flushing her for not being able to slow her heart rate. Still, Josie offered a smile, the perfect combination of friendly and smug even if the latter felt incredibly made up. “’Course—it helps that I’m really likable.”

Calum sucked in his teeth, giving a brief, semi-accepting tilt of his head. One hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket, he was gave her a once over before responding, “Depends on who you ask.” His words were followed by a sip of his beer, but Josie could make out the smirking curl of his lips from around the mouth of the bottle.

Despite the bass of the music thrumming deep in her chest, and the nerves she wished would subside because it was ridiculous to even feel so, Josie offered a smile and rested her hip against the counter she was near. She faced him as he stood a few feet away, left arm braced on the counter as the chain bracelet glimmered against the hanging light above the center counter. He looked good, Josie wasn’t afraid to admit that. To herself, anyway.

With a single shouldered shrug, Josie smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow at Calum. “I’m asking you.” A risk, those words falling past her lips, but she couldn’t take them back. Nor the implication behind them. But Josie was trying to learn not to be regretful of things, standing by decisions she made.

There was a subtle shift in his features, lips parting to lick his lower lip. Calum looked almost impressed, if not a bit startled, at Josie’s words, and she didn’t quite blame him. She watched something flash in his dark eyes, eyebrows lowering as a bit of a warning, silently telling her she was wandering into territory she shouldn’t be. Not that she had to be told that. The hitch in her throat was a sign enough.

Before Calum could respond, however, a sudden weight of an arm settled around Josie’s shoulders, a soft yet startled gasp escaping her as her six-foot-four brother playfully hung off her shorter frame. “Do you love your party or what?”

Josie tore her gaze away from the dark haired man across from her to grin up at her brother, whom she could tell was already well on his way to getting drunk. His cheeks were flushed, pushed up to show off his dimpled grin, eyes glazing over. A chuckle equal parts forced and amused escaped Josie, his presence tightening the knots in her stomach, as she wrapped her free arm around his waist. “Of course,” she answered. “I’m feeling all the love.”

Luke grinned, clearly satisfied with her answer. “Good,” he declared, wrapping his other arm around her as well, keeping her close. Josie could feel Calum’s eyes on them but she didn’t look back at him, letting her brother hug her as he continued, “You were too far away at Davis. ’m glad you’re here now.”

His words widened Josie’s smile, a happy warmth flushing her skin. Despite sometimes inserting herself in Luke’s friend group when they were kids, her brother never made her feel as though she was just tagging along or that she wasn’t welcomed to join. Being so close in age, Luke was Josie’s first best friend—honestly, he had a higher friendship role than any best friend she’s had—and she was easily closer to him than she was to her other two older brothers, Jack and Ben. Don’t get it wrong, Josie loved all of her brothers. But if she had to pick a favorite, it would be Luke.

Which was why Calum’s gaze on them felt so heavy, like it was weighing her down, slowly squeezing the air out of her lungs. Luke’s hug felt warm for all of the wrong reasons as Calum watched them, and Josie forced herself to look up, for her blue eyed gaze to meet his brown. His stare was intense as ever, looking right through her, and despite the neutrality of his features, Josie picked up on the look in his eye. She saw the reluctance that swam in them, a hint of panic he was doing a good job in hiding from those who wouldn’t expect to see it there. But Josie knew; she knew to look for it, knew it was probably present because she could feel it knotting her insides, too.

It was a kind of emptiness in her chest that allowed for the bass of the music playing in the house to settle too deeply, wondering if Calum felt it too as he tore his gaze away from them and took a long sip of his drink. Did he feel guilt, too?

She hoped he didn’t regret it because she sure as hell didn’t. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t any room for the guilt to take up residence. Not when her brother was holding her so tightly, so happily, rambling on about how excited he was for her to be living with him. Oblivious to the tension his presence only intensified between his best friend and sister.

“It’ll be just like old times, right, Cal?” Luke’s voice pulled Josie out of her thoughts, swallowing the lump in her throat as Calum looked at them once more. The song playing through the speakers changed to an unfamiliar R&B type that Josie thought was more Calum’s style than her brother’s.

A wry expression briefly twisted Calum’s features, a subtle quirk of his eyebrows and purse of his lips as his eyes met hers quickly. A silent scoff of yeah, right being spoken by him just through his features to her as Josie bit the inside of her cheek, her smile disappearing.

“Yeah,” Calum responded, his voice sounding too deep, heavy with the thoughts swirling in his head. Josie figured she had an idea what was running through his mind. He took another sip of his drink, brown eyes on blue, her own gaze following the way his tongue swiped across his lower lip, hating that she couldn’t pull her gaze away. All too aware that he was watching her track his movements, a hardship she would have to learn to get past. His eyes never left hers as he raised his cup, a silent cheers, as he repeated, “Just like old times.”

*****

The sun was bright. Then again, this was California, and the sun was always bright. Especially as June began and the sun remained high and relentless. It felt warm against Calum’s skin, which he’d eventually cool down by taking advantage of the tempting pool in front of him. And he wanted to jump in already, except he remained planted on the poolside chair, refusing to submerge himself in the cold water because of the woman already enjoying it. So he stayed put, feeling the heat burn his legs and the thin layer of sweat that clung to his skin, depriving himself of the welcoming water because he needed to keep his distance.

Music was playing through Luke’s backyard, but Calum couldn’t tell what song was playing, attention muffled by his focus being on Josie. Or, specifically, it was on trying not to be on the woman. Sipping his beer, Calum blinked behind his sunglasses, trying to anchor himself to the conversation happening around him by trying to get a grasp on reality. It was just him, the boys, and Josie—how it used to be at times when they were younger. Except there was nothing adolescent in the way his gaze lingered on Josie from behind the shades of his glasses. Yet he tried to listen to the song, foot tapping as his mind slowly picked up on the beat. Anything to try and get a solid grasp on his surroundings to pull out of his jumbled thoughts.

“The salon’s nice, then?” Ashton questioned, popped up from the middle of a hideous duck float, arms crossed on top as he looked at Josie.

She was laying on her stomach on a pool float, legs kicked up and ankles crossed. “So nice,” she answered with an appreciative groan. Calum took a breath, sipping his beer again as the sound rang in his ears. “Really fucking fancy, and everyone’s so nice. And the same company owns the nail salon next door so we get discounts.” With a wide grin, she added, “Pretty nails twenty-four-seven.”

She emphasized this point by lifting one hand and wiggling her fingers to show off already painted and long nails. Calum’s eyes followed the movement from where he sat, and the sun burned his skin. He straightened his posture, trying to rid of the all too familiar stinging sensation that dragged down his back. His muscles twitched, taking a breath as he tried to rid of the feeling, the reminder of a memory that was still fresh in his mind despite the months that passed.

Calum smacked his lips after forcing down the sip of beer, looking down at the bottle he held in mild distaste. Suddenly, he felt as though he needed a drink far stronger than this. Something to wipe the images lighting up his mind.

Michael walked out from the house, flip flops echoing on the concrete, signaling his presence as he walked down the few steps from the back door to the pool area. He settled down on the chair next to Calum. “A friend of Crystal’s booked a couple of tables for tomorrow night at the new club that opened up in West Hollywood.” His green eyes looked at the four people he was with. “You guys down to go?”

Luke waded into the water behind Josie, and Calum watched with a quirk of his eyebrows, noting the way his best friend was making it a point to be particularly quiet in his silent approach towards Josie as Ashton answered, “Yeah; I’ve got a business dinner so I’ll meet you guys there.” He munched on some chips. “Just send me the details.”

Michael nodded, looking between Calum at his right and Josie in the pool in front of them. “What about you guys?”

“Sure,” came both of their responses, Josie’s excited while Calum’s more subdued. His gaze wandered back to Josie and he didn’t miss the way her smile kind of froze on her face, rolling her lower lip into her mouth before breaking their gaze. She couldn’t seem to hold their gaze for too long, as opposed to him, who couldn’t stop looking at her, enough to notice the way her eyes dulled when she heard his hesitated answer. Look at me. The words echoed in his mind, wanting her to hear them. Look. At. Me. Why he wanted her to look at him, he had no idea. All he could think about when their eyes connected, even for a few seconds, were the overwhelming memories he had shoved into a box in his mind. But the more he looked at her, the more prominent the images in his mind became.

Calum hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation that followed, looking out to the five foot brick wall that surrounded the perimeter of Luke’s yard. The sky was clear of clouds that made the heat of the sun all the more relentless, only adding heat to the tightness of his muscles. His attention was drawn back to the scene in front of him by the sound of Josie’s scream, eyebrows raising as he watched Luke, from underwater, pushed the float Josie was on to flip it, sending his sister splashing into the water as the sight of her flailing limbs erupted laughter from everyone else.

An amused grin tilted at Calum’s lips, his own laughter mixing in with those of the boys as Josie finally surfaced with a gasp. And suddenly the laughter from Calum ceased, watching as she rose up with her head tilted back, her slender neck drawing his gaze. For a moment, he could picture it. All of it. The droplets of water covering her skin glimmered under the sun, the blue bikini she wore attracting Calum’s attention more than he’d admit, biting his tongue as Josie turned her back to him to splash at Luke in retaliation.

Calum excused himself then, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom as he headed inside the house, the sliding door at the back of the house opening right into the kitchen as he walked through to get to the downstairs bathroom in the hall. Calum found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed, hoping it was from the sun. His eyebrows lowered into a frown as he looked at his reflection, annoyance with himself spiking.

Get it together. It was all that he could say to himself as he exhaled slowly. He felt like a teenage boy, the sight of Josie in the pool stirring something in the pit of his stomach that had him sucking in a breath. What could he do? The sight had been all too familiar.

Calum gave a shake of his head. Nope. He couldn’t do this.

He exited the bathroom, shaking his hands as if he was trying to get rid of the thoughts that clung to him, walking towards the kitchen. The sound of someone messing around in there caught his attention, distinct in the rattling of bottles, and Calum stopped when he caught sight of Josie shutting the fridge. A Mike’s Hard Lemonade was in her hand as her eyes locked on his, the fall of her sun-flushed face an obvious tell of her discomfort of being caught alone with him.

Calum could vaguely hear the boys still outside, but he was all too focused on Josie; her wet blonde hair hung around her shoulders, and he fought to keep his eyes from wandering any lower than her eyes. He didn’t want to observe the blue bikini top that complimented her eyes, grateful for the little reprieve he had with her tying a towel around her hips. Just a little reprieve. He bit the tip of his tongue, scolding himself for so easily losing his train of thought in her presence, knowing now was not the time to allow himself to fall into a silent stupor.

Licking his lips, Calum looked towards the glass door that led out back, briefly watching his friends talk amongst themselves. Their conversation was drowned out by the music playing, and Calum exhaled, not looking back at Josie as he said, “You could’ve given me a warning, you know.”

He heard the bewilderment in her voice. “A warning?” she repeated. “For what?”

“That you were movin’ here.” Calum turned his head to look at her, taking in the frown furrowing her eyebrows and tilting her lips downwards. His throat worked, keeping his eyes on her as an attempt to keep himself from watching a lone bead of water run down the column of her throat and race towards the valley of her breasts. Conjuring up the nostalgic image of her in the flannels she used to wear was proving to be difficult, his attempt of distracting himself failing. “Would’ve liked a heads up.”

Josie gaped at him, and maybe Calum wasn’t being fair to her. She didn’t really owe him anything, he knew that. But from the moment Luke had dropped the bombshell that Josie was moving in with him—the day she was driving down from Davis—Calum had found himself in a state of panic he wasn’t familiar with. One that made his stomach feel hollow and chest tighten when he thought about seeing her practically every day.

“A heads up?” Josie scoffed, clearly finding Calum’s words as ridiculous as he felt saying them. With a tilt of her head, she raised an eyebrow and challenged, “Even if I did, what would you have done? High tailed it out of L.A.?”

Calum huffed, arms crossing over his chest, picking up on her gaze drifting to his arms briefly. He would’ve smirked if he wasn’t for the conversation at hand. His lips twisted to the side before he responded, “I would’ve at least been a bit prepared.”

“You think I was prepared?” Josie retorted, eyebrows shooting up as she stared him down. She took a step towards him, her own gaze drifting towards the back door before looking back at him. “Moving to L.A. was a last minute decision. You’re not the only one who can’t look Luke in the eye.”

He licked his lower lip, finger tapping against his bicep as he shook his head, anxiety ridden thoughts running rampant in his head. He wasn’t used to feeling so. . . Frustrated. Panicked. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling as if he was trapped in a corner with no way out. “Pretty sure I have more to lose than you.”

That had been the wrong thing to say; Calum knew it as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He watched the way Josie’s eyebrows shot up and lips parted. She stared at him in disbelief, incredulous that he would try to knock down what was at stake for her in this situation by trying to emphasize his own. It was a dick move, he knew, and he was sorry for it. “Fuck you, Calum,” she frowned, her voice resigned. He hated that he could see her disappointment and hurt more than the anger. He swallowed inaudibly at the thought of bringing that look on her face; one that settled a solemnity in her features against him. “We both screwed Luke over,” she added, making her way around the center counter, taking the longer way around to avoid walking past him as she headed towards the door.

Calum’s jaw set, wanting to apologize as he watched her go, feeling badly for making it seem like his guilt was stronger than hers. Josie stopped then, right before reaching the door, and looked at him over her shoulder. The hurt was still in her eyes, and she spoke with an edge creeping into her voice. “But if you take into consideration who’s more likely to get punched if Luke were to ever find out. . .” Her blue eyes gave him a once over, expression looking almost too empty for Calum’s liking until her gaze met hers. She smiled humorlessly then, wanting to fire back to mask the hurt his words had caused her by being spiteful in hers as she finished off, “Then yeah; you’ve got more to lose.”

And then with a roll of her eyes, she turned back and slid the door open, the music clear for the brief moment the door was open until she slid it shut. Calum rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, shaking his head as he released yet another slow, long breath, finally in tune with the racing of his heart he had failed to notice earlier. So fucking screwed.

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @softforcal @highfivecalum @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @wildflowergrae

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yuzusorbet · 4 years

Photo

Translation of Kikuchi-san's book. A friend shared the earlier parts of the Chinese translation with me, so I decided to start from the beginning. Little Yuzu is too adorable. :))

Chapter 1, part 1. On the balance beam, a special boy.

If there are natural inborn qualities, then for Yuzuru, that would be the "ability to attract people".

Yuzuru came to my clinic for the first time when he was in elementary school 2nd grade; he had sprained his ankle because of jump training. When his ankle healed, he started to come for "torso training class" that I conducted.

The Yuzuru exercising in the gym, and the Yuzuru talking non-stop in the clinic, are like 2 different people.

Firstly, his body movements are completely different from the ordinary child. His body posture is very good, and there is a flow in all his movements..... Perhaps these are also the special qualities of a figure skater.

For example, his running. Usually when children want to run fast, even if the posture is good, the legs will make uncontrolled heavy steps. But Yuzuru ran lightly and rhythmically. And it didn't slow down his speed. The way he ran gave a gentle and graceful feeling, there's always something that draws your attention. "What an interesting little fella," he left a deep impression on me.

But, in my training class, he wasn't so enthusiastic all the time. Although he was working hard at figure skating, he often slackened for training in the gym. Like running with not much power, or being sluggish with exercises, I often had to hold up the shinai (t/n. light bamboo sword for kendo practice) and roar at him. When I did that, Yuzuru would yell, "Waa~~ no!!!!" and start running to escape. Chase battles like this between us were always going on. (t/n. so funny!)

Another area that made me feel "this little fella is really interesting" was during circuit training. This is a way of training by combining a few different items like running, hurdles and simple jumps. It is an effective exercise for the respiratory system, so I often get the children to do it.

That day, the last item was walking on the balance beam.

For Yuzuru with his well-developed motor nerves, he walked across the beam too easily; this was uninteresting to me. "What? You simply walked across? What sport are you training for? Don't you have to show beauty? So do it!" I gave ridiculous instructions like that.

He started to walk on the beam while making figure skating poses. Standing around watching him were some children who were quite mischievous. To be made to do figure skating poses and movements in front of everyone, normally you would feel that you're being made fun of, and feel conflicted.

However, Yuzuru confidently and naturally showed signature figure skating moves in front of his peers. In this sport of figure skating, if you feel embarrassed by the movements or the costume, you will not be able to keep going. Especially for a boy.

But Yuzuru is like the main character that draws attention, in the good sense of the word. And in his posture and movements, there is some power that strongly attracts you.

Watching him do all those skating poses, "Ah this child must really be in love with figure skating, from the bottom of his heart," I thought.

How much do you love what you are doing? Not just for figure skating, but for any situation, that is the best short-cut that leads to progress.

Chapter 1, part 2. Growing kids are "good at making requests"

Yuzuru trained at Konami Sports Club, Izumi Ice Rink (the current Ice Rink Sendai); after training, he came to my clinic, it's something he had to do everyday.

If there was a problem with any part, I would treat that part. If there was no pain anywhere, I would do a massage for him and taping. Besides this, he also participated in the 'Sunday night training' in the gym, so I saw Yuzuru almost every day.

Initially he was quiet and spoke few words, but before I knew it, he had already become very talkative. But most of what he said were related to figure skating.

"Axel is like this, Loop is like that," he would be telling me endlessly as I was treating him. I had no concern for figure skating at all, so I could only say, "I don't understand all these things you are saying!" "Be quiet and receive the massage properly!" But still, he went on and on by himself. From that time, in that child's head was figure skating only.

We saw each other almost daily, but I had never heard him say "I want to play" or "I want to stop skating", these sort of complaints.

When Yuzuru was in lower elementary school, I think because of a large amount of figure skate training and also the thought that it's a girl's sport, he told his family, "I want to play baseball," but he had never said such things in front of me. (*notes by me, not from the book: In his autobiography, Yuzu said whenever he told his parents he felt like playing baseball instead of skating, they always said OK but he himself never made the switch in the end.)

Elementary school students will naturally talk about TV games and manga. But at that time I never heard him talk about these topics. I heard him say he watched TV, so I asked him what programme. Turns out, he was just watching a video of Plushenko's performances. And he watched it over and over again everyday, until the video tape was worn out and could not be played anymore.

Yuzuru came to my clinic after training ended, always at night. I had to extend the opening hours of my clinic. Everyday, my clinic was open until late, waiting for Yuzuru to come over.

"Sensei, tomorrow I will come again after training, is that alright?" requested this 3rd or 4th grade child, looking very apologetic.

If parents asked me this, I could still refuse in some way, but to an elementary school kid, I could only reply, "Okay! I will keep my clinic open and wait for you, just come over."

To a child working hard, I wanted to give a helping hand in any way, I guess it's quite natural to have that thought. And without me realising, I started to look forward to his arrival each time.

From here we can also see, from that young age, Yuzuru was already very good at making requests.

But it was not only Yuzuru who was working hard. From his home to my clinic, he came by car. Bringing him here always, was his father.

And also, I heard from Yuzuru himself, that his mother and sister worked on his figure skating costumes, sewing on glittering crystals one by one, late into the night.

After hearing this, all the more I wanted to support him.

2004 October, All-Japan Novice B Championship that elementary 3rd and 4th grade students participated in (9-10 years old), Yuzuru competed in this for the first time and won the championship. As a skater, he was growing well.

Not only Yuzuru, the children who joined the Sunday night torso training class were all "good at making requests", all full of enthusiasm, they made me want to support them from the bottom of my heart.

(t/n. awww........ Kikuchi-san is really a kind and soft-hearted grandpa.)

Translated by me from a Chinese translation by QuailAries@weibo, much thanks to her. Please consider buying the Japanese book to show your appreciation: HERE. I have just placed my order.

(pic: screenshots from gif by redfar@tumblr)

#Akira Kikuchi #Yuzuru Hanyu #update: I amended some parts after reading the original Japanese book #but no major differences in meaning

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banashee · 3 years

Link

It's midnight where I am, which means it's technically the 21st already 😁 Hi Folks, welcome to my fourth fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :)

@archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week four (June 21-28) Prompts: comfort, childhood, research, missing scene, statement

The key words I've used here are comfort, research (and arguably missing scene depending how you look at it)

So, this wasn't supposed to get nearly as long as it ended up being. But I enjoyed wirting this a ridiculous amount, and I hope you can find a bit of joy, comfort or anything else you're seeking as well.

Please mind the tags and content warnings for this one! It’s quite a bit heavier than my other entries for the Archival Pride 2021.

Content warnings: - Trauma, Grief - PTSD / Panic attacks - violent canon death of a sibling - coping - Nightmares - Canon-typical violence - Canon-typical Clowns / The Stranger - Death of a loved one - Canon-typical violence and thoughts of violence - Past underage kissing between consenting teenagers (nothing graphic and very PG) - breif internalized Bi-Phobia in the past - brief mention of past Ace-Phobia - strong language - TMA season 3 spoilers, even though this story is set pre-canon.

Whispers in the Dark

The first time Tim meets Jonathan Sims is when he sets down a small cardboard box and a stack of files onto a desk. More precisely, his own new place at the desk he just got assigned.

Tim just started out with his new job and he smiles, even though he is barely holding himself together at this point. He hopes no one will ask too many questions - it’s not like he plans on telling anyone what made him seek out the institute in the first place. It’s way too personal, and way too much to handle.

So he’d lied in the job interview, spun some story about wanting a new challenge. Mr. Bouchard didn’t question it, and Tim would like to think that is because his CV and education are rather high quality, which he isn’t shy about. Not at all - he is proud of his achievements, and rightfully so. But Tim can’t shake the feeling that his new employer had looked at him oddly, like he knows something that no one else does. It had been deeply unsettling, and if Tim thinks too much about it, it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up straight.

Despite his gut feeling telling him something else, Tim decides to chalk it up to nerves and his… Current situation, so to say. He is more jumpy, more paranoid than he used to be, which isn’t surprising. He has seen things, lived through things that he wouldn’t know how to explain if anyone asked. But overthinking it won’t get him anywhere.

So, he puts on a bit of the show, something that looks like his usual happy-go-lucky personality. Loud, brash, flirty and wicked smart, just like he always has been. It feels incredibly fake to him, but then again, no one here knows him. No one has ever met him before… Before. They don’t know. They don’t know . None of them ever sees him when the mask falls, home alone, in a house that feels too big and too empty with Dany gone and - no.

“Don’t go there, Stoker, just don’t. Get through the day, see what you can find out and go home. Get back tomorrow, rinse and repeat. You can do this.” he tells himself and plasters on a smile that almost hurts.

As he sets down the box and his files, he greets his new coworker and desk-neighbor.

“Hi, I’m Tim, nice to meet you!” ( “be happy, sound happy, god dammit” he thinks, then reminds himself that this guy won’t know the difference.)

The man on the desk opposite of him looks up from his computer which he’d previously looked at with intense concentration. It seems to take him a moment to catch up, then he nods and there is the hint of a very small smile on his face.

“Oh, erm, hi. Welcome.” he says, like someone who isn’t used to interacting with too many people. And maybe he isn’t - Tim wouldn’t know. He almost moves on and accepts that he won’t get a name from his new desk neighbor, but then he hears him say,

“Jonathan. Jon is fine, too.”

And then, as if he never said anything, he focuses back onto the screen in front of him and starts typing furiously.

“Thanks!” Tim says, probably just a tad too loud and too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t get a response this time. Okay, awkward. He isn’t sure if Jon is ignoring him or if he just doesn’t realize that he is being talked to - judging from the very brief, first impression of him that Tim got, both options might be entirely possible.

As the days go by, they don’t interact a lot besides basic politeness and the occasional question or comment about something work related.

The first time Tim ever really talks to Jon, is when he witnesses the man climb a bookshelf in the library like a fucking tree. No kidding. Tim blinks, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a real, genuine laugh bubble up in his chest. What the hell? He steps closer, next to the large, antique bookshelf that his coworker is currently clinging to, pulling books from a shelf that is over his head still.

“Jon, hi.” Tim says, watching the scene in front of him unfold. This is not something he expected, least of all from the coworker who never seems to say or do anything mildly interesting. So much for the first impression - the second impression is something entirely different, and it is this very moment that Tim decides that he likes the guy.

The sound of Tim’s voice addressing him directly makes Jon turn his head.

“Hi. Can I help you?” he asks, brusk and matter of fact, as if there wasn’t anything odd about this situation.

“...I was going to ask you the same?” Tim offers, mildly amused as he finds himself kind of impressed when Jon manages to shrug with his hands full like that. While clinging to the shelf, because what even?

“No. Why? I’ve already got what I need.” Jon jumps down from the wooden board he’d been standing on, and it is only now that Tim realizes they’d been on eye level before. Now… Not so much. They never stood next to each other up until this moment, he realizes.

He’s only been here for about a week, but whenever Tim arrives at the office, Jon is already there, at his desk and working. He never gets up for lunch, only ever seems to leave the room to pick up or drop off books from the library, and by the time everyone else has left, Jon remains seated at his desk. If he wasn’t changing out his clothes, Tim would have been convinced that Jonatahn Sims simply plugs himself into a wall socket to recharge for the next day. Or maybe sleeps under his desk or something.

“Just… You know what, nevermind.” Tim has come to the very correct conclusion that he better just accept this as it is. It seems easier. Much, much easier than arguing with someone over nothing, even though Tim feels like punching a wall or two some days. But that is not his coworkers fault, and he doesn’t want to mess up the chance to get to know him because he is cute.

Tim doesn’t even question this train of thought anymore.

At some point in between meeting the man for the very first time and… well, this, he must have filed away the odd combination of grandfather cardigans, chipped dark nailpolish and neatly tied up hair, combined with that deep warm voice and decided that yes, this person is attractive.

To be fair, it doesn’t take Tim long to fall for people - it never has. He just didn’t expect to spend any time really looking at someone, now that his life has gone sideways in so many horrible ways.

Turns out he’d been wrong.

Finding something attractive about a person, no matter their gender or any physical attributes, is the easiest thing in the world to Tim. Ever since he can remember, he has enjoyed looking at people. Tim likes soft curves just as well as sharp angles, and has spent many many hours of his life getting lost in people's eyes. Sometimes, he’d caught himself staring when talking to a friend, losing himself in the depth of warm brown eyes with specks of gold, watery blue, light grey or green with specs of hazel and anything in between.

Tim vividly remembers a game of spin the bottle when he was a teenager and sat on the floor with a group of friends and classmates. Of course, there had been many dares to kiss someone, and he had happily taken them whenever possible.

At the time, Tim wasn’t sure about himself at all, because he’d only known that he finds people attractive, but all everyone around him had talked about was if you were gay or straight, if the question was even asked. Mostly, they just assumed whatever seemed convenient at the time.

No one tells Tim about the meaning of the word “Bisexual”, or even about the word itself until he is in college. But he knows how he feels, even though he is lacking the word for it for many years

Once he finds out, Danny is the first person he tells about it. Tim calls him that same night, sitting in a quiet corner of the dorm as he excitedly tells his little brother that he found a word to relate to himself and his feelings for other people.

“There are other people who feel that way, Danny. There is nothing wrong with me and there is a word for it!” he tells him in a hushed but excited voice, fumbling on a loose thread in a hole of his jeans. Those trousers have long been frayed into shreds but Tim refuses to part with them.

His voice is shaking with excitement, and he may or may not be holding back happy tears. This is a big moment for him, and because Danny is literally the best - not just because he answered his phone at fuck-o-clock in the morning when his brother called - he reacts with nothing but support.

“I might have a few questions, but I love you. No matter what. I’m happy for you.” he tells him, and in that moment, Tim couldn’t be happier or prouder of his younger brother.

The game of spin the bottle a few years earlier was the one of the first things that taught Tim that he finds many many things to be interested in and attracted to. It taught him that he is attracted to the many different ways people feel, and it hasn’t changed ever since.

Over the years, Tim finds himself falling in love quick and hard with a number of people, and none of them are ever the same. Each and every person is unique, in their looks and size and voice and feelings - and every single one is loveable just as they are.

“You do have a thing for certain types of voices though.” Tim thinks, and maybe that is the culprit here, now that he is standing in the library of the Magnus Institute and faced with Jonathan Sims, who looks up at him with one raised eyebrow. Oh shit, has he been staring the entire time?

Before Tim can think too much about it, or god forbid, overthink it, he hears his mouth blurt out without his brains permission,

“So do you want to come to lunch later? There is a café not far from here that I’ve never been to.”

Jon stares back for a moment, like this isn’t something he expected. Truth be told, he didn’t. But just when Tim starts thinking that he’ll decline, Jon nods slowly.

“Yes, I suppose. Just… Let me know before you’re going. I tend to, well, I tend to get lost a bit when I’m working and chances are I won’t notice how much time has passed.” he explains, and this is probably the first time he said anything personal besides his name.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll just put a giant sticky note on your monitor.” Tim offers him with a grin and wink, and as he turns around, he could swear that he catches a real smile on Jon’s face.

Tim actually does put a note on Jon’s screen though. As he was warned, all attempts to verbally get his attention have failed, so Tim scribbles a quick note for Jon.

The sticky piece of paper is bright pink and obnoxious, and all that Tim has written on it is “Lunch time!” in big bold letters, accompanied by a smiley face. He manages to walk up behind Jon, stick it right in the middle of his computer monitor and get back around to his own desk to gather his jacket and wallet before Jon squints at it through slim, rectangular glasses and blinks a few times before he remembers the conversation from earlier. Then, there is a small hint of a smile on his face, very similar to the one Tim caught in the library earlier.

He gathers his things and leaves the office with Tim, and the two of them walk next to each other comfortably as they make their way to the café.

Surprisingly, the lunch break together isn’t nearly as awkward as it could be, or should have been, really. Jon doesn’t talk much at first, and Tim has a feeling he himself is talking way too much without actually saying anything, just so his brain doesn’t drift off into the wrong direction. But then, it’s like the air has left his lungs and there is a minute or two of slightly awkward silence.

Then, Jon clears his throat and asks,

“So, did you know that snails can sleep for three years at a time?”

When Tim, surprised by the question, shakes his head, Jon starts talking about the topic in great detail as he fiddles with the edge of his napkin the whole time. Somehow, this of all things breaks the ice, and Tim finds himself to be able to breathe a little bit easier.

Even more so, he is enjoying this. He isn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jon to join him for lunch. Maybe it was just the urge for human interaction and to not be alone, which he supposes is fair enough. But he certainly didn’t expect random information about nature phenomenons. All Tim knows is that he feels better after their first break together, and after that, spending the break together becomes A Thing.

What he learns pretty fast is this: Jon is an info dumper when he feels comfortable enough to do so. As it turns out, Jon isn’t very picky with his topics, either. They range from science phenomena to weird, interesting nature facts and anything else that catches his interest.

Tim also learns that, if he is in the right company and being asked the right questions, he can hold monologues that could last for hours. He figures that one out when Jon drops a fun fact about 19th century architecture, and without thinking, picks up the loose end of the sentence and continues,

“Oh, yes, did you know that…” and thus, without even realizing it, Tim spends the entire lunch break talking about it - he is passionate about the topic, but he leaves out the details about the Covent Garden Theatre. It just hurts too much to think about, but other than that, Tim is excited about the topic. He gets so carried away and rambles on and on and on, he only stops when Jon and him get back to the institute. It takes even longer for Tim to catch up and realize that Jon just paid for both lunches while he went off on a monologue about Robert Smirke architecture. But when he tries to pay him back, Jon just waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, your lecture was very interesting, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

From anyone else, this might have been a dig - but coming from Jon, Tim knows by now, it is a genuine statement that makes him way happier than it should.

So, their lunch breaks together quickly turn into a tradition,

Tim isn’t entirely sure what is more surprising; the fact that he manages to get Jon to actually leave his desk for human needs like food and social interaction, or that the two of them are enjoying it so much.

Sometimes, they go to cafés or restaurants, trying out places that neither of them has been to before. It turns into them picking favourites, and then they become regulars at a small handful of places. Sometimes they simply go on a quick walk to pick up some food, other times they sit down and enjoy being out of the office for a little bit.

One day, Tim arrives in the office early, and he brings lunch from home for Jon and himself for the first time.

Tim has spent the previous night wide awake, unable to rest after a nightmare startled him out of a deep sleep. It takes a long time to get his breathing back under control, and very late at night, or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, Tim gives up on sleep. After hours of useless tossing and turning, he won’t be able to rest, he knows from experience.

Cursing under his breath, he pulls aside the covers and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. Exhausted, both in a physical and emotional sense, he scrubs a hand over his face.

The memories linger, and Tim feels like his whole chest is pulled together with anxiety and grief. Seven months. That’s how long it has been since he found Danny sitting in his dark living room in the middle of the night, crying silent tears as he had no idea what to do besides be there for him and offer comfort. Seven months since he followed his younger brother to the Royal Opera House Covent Garden and had to watch him being torn apart.

Carefully, Tim forces himself to keep breathing as evenly as possible. In - hold - out - hold - in - rinse and repeat. His hands are shaking, and he tries to force them into stillness as he grips hard at the rumpled bed sheets.

Attempting to go back to sleep is useless, he knows from experience, and so he makes his way down into the kitchen.

This house feels too big, too empty without the presence of his little brother. He left a hole in his life, and even though it’s been months since Danny died, Tim hasn’t moved a single one of his possessions. Not yet - it hurts too much.

Despite having been alone for a while now, Tim is still careful to leave the lights out in the hallway, walking as quietly as he can in the middle of the night as if there was still someone around he could wake up with his movements. It’s a long standing habit, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever shake it off.

It’s only when he arrives in the kitchen that Tim switches on the overhead light. It flickers to life, slowly, and the small kitchen is tinted into a warm light. Warm and homely, like this house once was. Now, it just feels painfully empty.

With a long sigh, Tim makes his way to the sink and fills up a glass with water - his hands are still shaking and he spills a bit onto himself, but he doesn’t care. Caring about it is too much right now, so he focuses on draining the glass empty before refilling it again. He feels dehydrated, but given the night he’s had so far, it isn’t surprising.

“I need a distraction.” he mumbles, and soon enough, he’s raided the pantry and his refrigerator. Tim pulls out some pots and pans from the cupboard, scattering everything throughout his kitchen where it’ll be most convenient. The repetitive tasks of cooking have always had a relaxing effect on him, and soon enough, the room is filled with scents and aromas that make his mouth water. Even now, while he is absolutely miserable.

The casserole ends up being huge. It’s way too much for one person, even one with an appetite. But cooking for one after being used to there being someone else is hard - kind of useless, while you’re already at it.

Tim has had that problem ever since he’s been cooking on his own, but knowing that Danny will be back to join him again, freshly back from some cave diving or urban exploration or whatever other strange new hobby he’d found at the time.

Now, Tim is all on his own. He sighs unhappily. Cooking was a good distraction, up until he is painfully reminded that no one is there anymore to share it with. Not here, at least.

He allows himself a few minutes of quiet greif, seated at the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a lukewarm cup of tea, sitting on the table by his side, almost forgotten.

By the time the sun is starting to rise, Tim is up and moving again. He has put the casserole in several plastic boxes and packs two of them into his work bag.

When he arrives at the office, way earlier than he usually does, because what is the point of staying home doing nothing, Tim places one of the boxes at the edge of Jon’s desk.

Jon seems to be mildly surprised by the early company, and even more so by the plastic box.

“Oh, Good morning... What is this?” he asks then, mildly curious.

“Lunch. I was cooking last night and it was way too much. Thought I’d bring some in to share.” Tim forces a smile along with the half-lie, if only to cover how tired he is. He needs coffee.

The “Thank you” Tim gets in response is equally surprised and genuine, and he tries very carefully to not interpret too much into it. Especially because their shared meal feels a lot more homely and strangely intimate that day. Getting takeout together or sitting somewhere is one thing, but sharing a home-cooked meal is something entirely different, he finds. He also finds that he doesn’t mind it.

Only a few days later, conveniently when every last bit of the casserole is gone, Tim finds a plastic box that isn’t one of his own sitting on his desk. Curiously, he opens it and finds it filled to the brim with homemade curry, rice and veggies. Even cold, it smells heavenly and makes his mouth water. Tim looks over to the desk opposite of him, where Jon is already typing away like he usually does, but when he looks up and finds Tim smiling brightly at him, he smiles back.

Something in his chest feels incredibly warm and fluttering.

One evening, when the two of them get out of the office equally late - Jon because he always does, and Tim because he may or may not have waited for him - they walk to the tube together.

In a spontanous fit of bravery and “Oh well, fuck it”, Tim carefully rechaes out until his own fingers gently brush against Jon’s as they walk. It’s dark outside, only illuminated by the countless lights that illuminate the shops and pubs and the sides of the street they’re walking along. Tim does so casually and carefully enough to be ignored or taken as a coincidence if needed be, just in case. But then his heart almost stops for a second when after a moment of stiffness, Jon accepts the offer and closes his own fingers around Tim’s.

His touch is light at first, but then his grip tightens a bit, warm and comfortably so, and it is clear that his heart is in it. Of course it is - the two of them have gotten close in the last few weeks and months. There might have been some wishful thinking on Tim’s end involved - Jon is not always great at picking up social cues, especially romantic ones.

“That’s fine though” he tells him later, “You’re a huge enough flirt to make it up for the both of us.”

Jon squeezes his hand, and Tim happily squeezes back as he keeps walking beside him, just a little bit closer than before.

He can’t help but smile. Something like happiness blooms in his chest, and even though they don’t talk about it the entire way, even though they keep holding hands when they sit next to each other in the tube, they remain this close all the way until their ways separate and they have to get onto a different line each. It feels right, and the sudden loss of touch as their ways separate makes Tim wish it could last - but turning back and running after the other train seems kind of silly now, especially since he’ll see Jon again the very next day.

This becomes A Thing as well. Touching, that is.

Holding hands, brushing along each other when they reach for folders or mugs or books in the library. Speaking of which, Tim has learned very quickly that there is no way to stop Jon from literally climbing high spaces to reach whatever he needs. As of now, he is long used to watching him scale a bookshelf or kitchen counter, much to his own amusement.

“Hold on tight, little monkey.” he tells him as he walks past, grinning from ear to ear, knowing full well that he can’t expect more than a scoff and,

“Oh, shut up.” as a response.

Tim keeps it up though - because it’s fun and he knows he’s allowed to get away with it. Which can’t be said for anyone else in the institute, not like anyone would have tried as far as he knows. But he is ridiculously proud of it nonetheless. Tim is still cackling to himself when he wraps an arm around the other man’s shoulders and keeps chatting away to him all the way back into the research offices.

He has always been very openly affectionate, with family, friends and romantic partners or those he’d fancied. It’s part of who he is, and if he is honest with himself, it feels good to have some part of him back that’s always been there. It helps a bit, and even more so since Jon not only happily lets him, he also leans back into the touch. Jon’s attempts at seeking out touch are a lot more subtle than Tim’s, at least at first, but he knows and recognizes it for the sign of trust and comfort that it is.

That afternoon, there isn’t much time to chat at their desks, but about an hour before they’re supposed to get off, a balled up piece of paper hits Tim’s hand, clearly coming from Jon, but the sneaky bastard isn’t giving indication that he stopped reading at all.

With a small smile, Tim opens the note. It’s not like Mr. Workaholic to pass notes on the clock, but then again, he has to give Jon credit for loosening up significantly since the day they met. Or, maybe warmed up to human company is more like it. (He very carefully tries not to think, or more like hope, that it's him in particular Jon has warmed up to so much. But then again, Tim has heard some of their coworkers whisper in astonishment that it’s completely unheard of that Jonathan Sims leaves his desk for breaks or in time in the evenings, let alone interacting with other human beings more than absolutely necessary. Tim also caught the rumors about the two of them being a couple - he’d almost laughed then. He fucking wishes .)

Tim unfolds the note and reads;

“I have a lot of leftover curry I made last night. Would you like to come over for dinner after work? - J.”

This has become A Thing, too. Sharing meals after work and sometimes on the weekends. It alternates where they go, but especially lately, they have preferred to go to either Tim’s house or Jon’s apartment instead of a restaurant. For one, going out to eat on a regular basis is expensive, but also, cooking together or eating the leftovers from a late night cooking binge is a lot more comfortable and homely.

Sharing a meal and oftentimes a couch with someone fills at least part of the void that Tim finds inside of himself. He is struggling still, but having another human being in his personal space, warm and alive and happy to be there, means the world to him. He’s feeling something again, something that isn’t constant fear or everlasting sadness.

They watch movies sometimes - it’s not exactly easy to find something that both of them like . Their tastes in movies are widely different from each other, so instead, they opt to choose obscure sci-fi movies or anything they can pick apart and make fun of. No horror - they haven’t talked about it, but this is one of the few movie-related things they are in silent agreement over.

Truth be told, poking fun at bad movies together is much more entertaining than watching anything the normal way.

They are stuffing their faces with snacks and complain at the protagonists for making very unwise or straight up unrealistic decisions, even in-universe illogical ones. They pick apart plot-points and anything that doesn’t add up while they share space on the couch, either holding hands or leaning against one another.

“Oh, of course, give me a break!” Jon grouses as he shakes his hand that is currently holding a few crisps at the TV, annoyed to no end, it seems. In truth, he is enjoying this. He enjoys this an awful lot, and so does Tim.

He laughs out loud and pulls Jon a little closer to his side.

“Yes, you tell the creepy alien why it’s mere existence even in this fictional universe doesn’t make sense, Love!” He eggs him on, and only realizes the pet name has slipped out of his mouth by the time he notices the deep blush creeping on Jon’s face. Oh shit.

“Now don’t say anything to fuck this up, for once in you life, just shut up!” Tim thinks to himself, carefully trying to remain as calm as he can. They’ve been holding hands for ages and they keep cuddling up on the couch - this isn’t anything unexpected, for heaven’s sake. Hell, if Jon were anyone different, they might have ended up in bed already, but Tim is aware that this probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon - or at all, if he isn’t entirely mistaken, based on the hints and observations. First and foremost the slow and careful way in which their relationship to each other is changing and developing, but then again, he knows what the simple black ring on the middle finger on a person’s right hand usually means.

Tim doesn’t ask though - he figures that if Jon wants to talk about it, he will do so eventually and at his own pace.

So, Tim doesn’t push anything and carefully waits for a response. But there isn’t one, or at least nothing verbal. Instead of saying anything, neither to Tim or about the movie, Jon simply scoots a little bit closer to him, leaning against him and doesn’t let go of his hand. Tim takes this as a win and leans his head against the tuft of long black hair that tickles his cheek.

Both of them relax in an instant, and if they end up falling asleep on the couch, legs a tangled mess and with the TV still on, well, the next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been once upon a time.

It takes Tim, way longer than it should to realize that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t startle awake screaming that night. Company helps. It helps a lot. Just knowing that there is someone else, that he isn’t alone and doesn’t have to wake up to an eerily empty house anymore helps.

Tim doesn’t fool himself into thinking that everything will magically resolve itself - he knows it won't, especially because his research about the circus isn’t going anywhere yet.

Sometimes, he feels guilty. Guilty for not spending every waking minute searching for hints, searching for answers to the things that have taken his brother and traumatized him for life. The calmer, logical part of his brain is aware that it doesn’t work like that - he needs a break sometimes, needs the time to himself and spend it with other people…. And goddammit, he deserves to be happy.

Danny would have kicked his arse if he could hear him think this, would have told him to get a grip and do something that makes him happy. Because this is what scares him sometimes - the happiness, the times where he doesn’t think of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden or circuses and… Skin. Just the thought alone makes him shudder, but he can’t stop thinking about those memories sometimes.

“...Are you alright?”

Tim blinks, not having realized that he must have zoned out. He’s still on the couch, slowly waking up and with Jon tucked somewhere next to him. He doesn’t sound very awake yet, but there is concern in his voice as he fixes Tim with a very direct look.

“I- yes, just. Zoned out a bit there.” Tim shoots him his best bright smile, hoping he’ll be able to chase away the ghosts. At least for now. He sighs, and happily leans into the touch and hugs back when he can feel a pair of slim arms snaking around his waist. Jon doesn’t say anything, but he seems to pick up that something is bothering Tim. And much like him in emotional situations, Jon doesn’t know what to say. So he remains close and thankfully, this is exactly what Tim needs right now. Just being close to someone he cares a whole lot about, feeling their heartbeat near his own. Being held for a bit. He squeezes Jon in silent gratitude for being there, and hopes he can get across what he can’t say.

It is Saturday and they have a whole weekend in front of them. After they peel themselves off of the couch, they stumble off to the bathroom after one another and then to the kitchen in an attempt to fuel themselves with tea and breakfast. It’s painfully, beautifully domestic.

While he is keeping an eye on several pans on the propane stove, Tim is chatting away about something - he isn’t exactly sure himself, except it is something pointless that distracts him from his earlier train of thought. Jon and him are laughing and joking while they drink tea and prepare breakfast together. But after a while it looks like Jon wants to say something, stops himself, and then more of the same all over again.

Eventually, Tim can’t watch him struggle over it anymore and straight out asks,

“Hey. What’s going on in that fuzzy head of your’s?”

It’s true - both of them still have a severe case of bed-heads, and Jon huffs at the question and tries to smooth down a few of the stubborn flyaways around his face. Only very mildly successful.

“I… Was going to ask something.”

“Alright? Shoot.” Tim very, very carefully swallows the joke he was about to make in the end - if this is going where he hopes it might, he doesn’t want one god awful pun to be part of the memory of it. So he waits.

Jon seems to be bracing himself, and then he turns around to face Tim.

“I would like to kiss you. Is that okay?” he asks. A simple question, and yet - it means so much. Tim smiles at him, heart beating out of his chest as he steps closer to Jon.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

There are only mere inches separating them. Both Jon and Tim cross the last of the distance at once, hands searching for each other. Their fingers are interlacing tightly as soon as they touch, and just a split second later, their lips meet for the first time. There is no rush, nothing in this world that would get them to hurry anything up at this moment. Slowly, they kiss again and again, tasting faintly of the tea they had earlier, but even more so, it feels like comfort. Maybe even a little bit like home.

A quiet happiness settles deep into them, and something seems to click into place. They are happy, and there is nowhere they’d rather be than anywhere, as long as they can be together.

After a little while, their hands let go of each other, but only so they can pull one another closer. One of Tim’s hands is cupped around Jon’s cheek, thumb gently stroking over the soft stubble while his other arm remains wrapped around him, hand resting at the small of his back. Jon on the other hand, has to angle his head up a bit due to their height difference, but he doesn’t mind that at all. Both of his arms are wrapped around Tim’s torso, and if it was possible, he would like to remain like this forever.

Unfortunately for the two of them, life has other plans.

When the smell of something burning registers with the two of them, they regretfully break apart cursing and laughing as they quickly remove the pans from the heat.

“That was - good lord, why now of all times?” Breathlessly and more than a little high from happy brain chemicals, they try to get a grip on themselves and on the situation.

“Just like our luck, isn’t it?” Tim is joking, of course, but still. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

“This better not become a habit.” Jon glares at the charred eggs and smoking pans as if they personally insulted him. He’d been having a good time, but of course something had to happen. Oh well.

“We’ll just have to make up for it.” Tim winks at him, grinning widely. He doesn’t mean much by it, and he only realizes how that might have come across when Jon awkwardly clears his throat and says,

“The kissing? Yes, absolutely. Other things… Well, most other things, actually… Not so much. I erm, I should have said that before now, I suppose. But, I’m Asexual.” he chooses his words slowly and deliberately, like he is trying to say them exactly right.

Tim looks into his eyes, bright green and shining with happiness, but now, there is something else creeping into them. Self-doubt, insecurities - Tim isn’t sure, but he wants to do his best to make the doubts disappear - and apologize for his big mouth.

“That’s absolutely fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that - I wasn’t implying anything else, I promise.”

Slowly, Jon nods, visibly relaxed now. He asks,

“So… We’re good?”

“We are. More than good actually, if you ask me.” Tim finds himself smiling again, which is something he’s been doing so much more lately. Then he tucks away a strand of hair from Jon’s face and kisses him again, just as gentle as before. He is happy to find that he returns the kiss in an instant, pushing close until the two of them end up pressed up against the kitchen table. After they break apart again, they remain standing in an embrace.

“I like you, Jon. I like you a lot. I love being around you and with you, just for who you are. Yes, I enjoy sex, but I don’t need it. So if you don’t want to, that is okay and it doesn’t make a difference to me. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nearly says, “I love you” but that might be a little early - saying it too early has ruined his relationships in the past, and although what Jon and he have is something different, Tim doesn’t want to risk it.

But as it turns out, he said the right thing. Jon looks a lot more relaxed than before, and he keeps a loose hold around Tim’s hips.

“Thank you, Tim, that’s… Very reassuring actually. I’ve been with people who reacted quite a bit differently to this, so” Jon shrugs, but it is clear that this isn’t a happy memory.

“I appreciate you.” He adds, and Tim pulls him a little bit closer.

“I’m sorry. These people fucking suck.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” Jon smiles, and pulls Tim down for another, longer kiss. It feels just as intoxicating as before. Then he tells him,

“And, just for the record. I like you a lot, and spending time with you makes me very happy.

The giddy happiness stays with them - being freshly in love and being freshly together is exciting. It is a feeling Tim will never get tired of. The thing is, being together with Jon doesn’t change a whole lot - they are still on opposite desks from each other at work, they still spend their lunch breaks together and Tim actually manages to get Jon to leave the office at 5pm these days, instead of late at night like he did for the longest time. They still have dinner together most days and they often spend their weekends together. All of these are things they did before, but now, it still feels… Different.

Then of course, there are the casually affectionate touches throughout the day. They’d like to think that they’re being more discreet here, but then again, at least Tim has never been shy about throwing arms around people or bumping shoulders or anything like that. In fact, people would probably get concerned and suspicious if he stopped doing any of it.

The point is: they keep it down to normal levels at work, but they seem to be glued together whenever they’re off the clock. Whether they hold hands, hug, kiss, bump shoulders, hips, arms or hands, or sometimes simply nap stacked on top of each other, they are always touching in some way. Both of them soak up the contact like sponges, and they know without having even talked about it in detail that they spent quite a bit of time lonely and touch starved before… This. Their relationship.

Waking up with one another in the mornings is probably Tim’s favourite part of all. Holding onto each other with their legs tangled together, hands searching for warm skin to rest on and heads pillowed on each other's shoulder or chest. Sharing breaths of air - all of this feels wonderful and intimate in it’s own way, and he can’t get enough of it.

Waking up in the morning is a peaceful thing. But some nights, unfortunately, are not. Both of them have nightmares on a regular basis. They find that they generally sleep better when they are not alone, and having someone to hold close or bury into when the lingering horrors hit, helps significantly.

Some nights, it’s Jon who startles awake in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving as he frantically looks around himself until he realizes where he is, or until Tim wakes up and mumbles quiet reassurances into his hair as he holds him close until the tremors have calmed down.

If they’re lucky, they manage to fall back asleep after a while, but if not, they simply stay awake, cuddled up under soft blankets and they just talk. Their topics of conversation vary widely, ranging from silly, lighthearted distractions to things they did or experienced in their past, as well as heartfelt conversations that are about much more than just that.

Tim himself has his fair share of nightmares as well, ever since he lost Danny. And even though having Jon close by and being held at night helps to keep them at bay sometimes, there are still nights where he startles awake either screaming or crying or both.

The first time it happens, Tim wakes up terrified and tangled in the sheets. His shirt clings to the cold sweat that is running down his back and his breath comes out in irregular, shaky bursts.

A dimly lit circus arena, old and dusty with centuries of dirt. Tim can’t move. It’s like he is rooted to the spot, and yet, his legs won’t stop shaking. He is shivering from the cold - no surprise, since he ran out in nothing but his pyjamas earlier, and this place is surprisingly freezing for a hot August night. Tim can feel the cold, but more so than anything, he is absolutely terrified.

He wants to scream, to run, do anything but stand here - but it’s impossible. The crumpled form of his brother - or the Thing that pretends to be Danny - sits motionless and hunched over, no matter how much Tim tries to call out for him. Not a single word leaves his throat, even though his vocal cords hurt from the strain he’s been putting on them. But Danny doesn’t hear him - can’t hear him.

From out of the shadows, Tim can see… Something. It looks like a clown, but it’s wrong. Too long, too folded up to be human. It drags itself across the floor slowly and grotesquely, like a creature from a horror movie, up until it stops. Unlike a movie creature though, this is very much reality.

Breathing is hard, and Tim wants to force his body to move, but still, there is nothing he can do. Part of him wants to believe that this… Place, this Thing is influencing his ability to move somehow, but then again, he might just as well be paralyzed by fear.

The clown moves forward, right towards Danny. As it unfurls itself, it is clear that there are smears of blood all over its face, red and bold and dripping wet.

“Shall I?” it asks, with a voice that is playful in the worst possible way. Too happy, and way too sinister. Tim can’t even answer, still unable to talk or move or do anything, but he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He wants to grab Danny and run, but knows he can’t. He wants to scream, cry or throw up, anything but watch the scene unfolding in front of him.

None of this happens though.

Instead, Tim is forced to stand motionless and helpless, watching in agony and horror as the clown moves much more quickly than he could have anticipated. It’s not as much that he can actually see the movement, but Tim can feel it. He can feel the breeze of air on his face, and just a split second later, it has removed the entirety of Danny’s skin. His limp, bloody and bare form slumps forward, and it is only then that Tim actually starts screaming.

He is screaming his head off, loud, desperate and terrified. Tim is shaking like a leaf. Breathing is impossible, and it takes him way too long to realize that in order to breathe, he needs to calm down for just a second. It takes even longer for him to realize that he is at home, safely in bed and long out of this situation. But Danny… Danny is just as dead.

Between ragged, forced breaths, Tim is curling in on himself, unable to register that Jon has woken up and is talking to him in a low, concerned voice. He tries to get his partner to calm down at least a bit, afraid he’ll end up hyperventilating from panic.

Tim doesn’t register any of it. He can’t make out Jon’s gentle voice trying to bring him back, doesn’t register the light, careful touch on his arm in an attempt to soothe without scaring him further. Tim curls himself into a tight, shaking ball without noticing any of it.

After the first initial panic, there is a brief moment of silence, but after that, he breaks. Ragged breath turns into uncontrollable, hiccuping sobs and it is only then that Tim realizes the familiar pair of arms slipping around him in a protective embrace. He uncurls just enough to be able to hug back and let Jon slip closer to him, which he does as soon as humanly possible. Tim clings onto him for dear life as Jon curls himself around him in what must be an uncomfortable or at least awkward position, but this is the last thing on his mind. All Jon cares about right now is making sure that Tim is okay, or at least, as okay as he can be.

Their bodies are pressed flush together, tightly enough for them to feel each other's rapidly beating hearts hammering out of their chests. Tim tries to focus on that, tries to focus on the carefully even rhythm of breath that Jon attempts to get him to follow.

His presence is constant, warm and comforting. Tim can feel his weight on top of himself, the hold of his arms around him. Strands of hair and warm breath on his neck are a familiar sensation as well, something he’s been getting used to lately. Even more so, it is something that Tim loves and associates with home by now. And while the fear and pain caused by his nightmare are still very much lingering, he is able to relax in order to calm down eventually. Slowly but surely, a little bit over the course of - he doesn’t even know how long.

Time has lost all meaning at this point. It might take him minutes or hours to breathe normally again, and at some point, Tim realizes that the steady stream of talking, besides the quiet attempts to comfort and assure him, are actually bits and pieces of random information. Anything to keep talking and keep up a steady presence, Tim supposes, but he is eternally grateful for it. He shifts a bit, arms still wrapped tightly around Jon, although he’s stopped clinging as much by now. He stretches out a little bit without letting go of their embrace - everything hurts from holding himself so tense for so long. Then Tim pulls the both of them onto their side so they can cuddle properly.

Gentle hands keep running through his messy mop of purple hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp. Tim leans into it, soaking up the touch like a sponge. He’s stopped shaking now, he notices, and he registers a lot more sensations than he did before.

Little sounds around the house, wind outside, the occasional car. Most of all, he registers all the different little touches from Jon, and the way he keeps talking to him even now.

After a while, he leans in to kiss Tim’s forehead, thumbs wiping away a few stray tears. It seems like the worst of the storm is over by now, but Jon stays close. He’s never seen Tim in such a state, and it worries him to no end. At least it looks like he isn’t in severe panic anymore.

“Do you want to talk?” Jon asks quietly, but all Tim can manage is shake his head. It's not like he could talk right now if he tried. He doesn't trust his voice, knowing it will break, which is probably going to set him off again and he's not ready to face that.

Maybe, a part of him wants to talk about what happened. Sure, it is going to hurt regardless, whenever he decides he is ready for it, but there is no doubt that it will help to get it off of his chest. But Tim doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk about the horrors he's witnessed. Where would he even start? How does he explain all of it without sounding - well.

“That’s alright.” Jon tightens his hold around Tim as he shifts a little bit, without letting go, so he can rest his head on top of Tim’s. There is a quiet, almost suffocating sadness radiating off of him, and even though he doesn’t know what happened that got him into this state, Jon offers him all the support he can, in any way he knows how. Physical touch seems to help a lot, thankfully. That, he can do forever.

“I’m here for you. Whatever it is you need, I’m here.”

The sun is starting to rise on the horizon, but Tim and Jon remain in bed, wrapped up around each other just like before. Birds are starting to sing outside, even before the first rays of the morning sun tint the room into a low light.

“I love you. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

Notes:

#Archival Pride 2021 #Banashee writes #tma fanfic #JonTim #the magnus archives #tw trauma #tw death #tw blood and violence #mind the tags and CWs please

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