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walkuntilthedaylight · 3 years

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The people have spoken! How can I not give them what they want?

I'm gonna put this all under a cut, since it's a bit long, and also because it's highly interpretative/speculative and not everyone likes those kinds of posts as they can be rather subjective and, I suppose, invasive. I want to give two major caveats to my thoughts below: first is that I tend not to buy the idea that Paul was the "stable/normal" Beatle, mostly b/c I view marijuana dependency and workaholism as addictions and I take them pretty seriously. Second is that I really do love this kind of tabloid/gossip/personal account shit; I think it should be taken with a handful of salt, but I don't think it should be entirely dismissed out of hand either. I read this stuff like I'm piling up sheets of stained glass: I'm intrigued by the places where the colours blend and overlap, and ignore things that fall outside the prism. Anyway, let's dig in:

Okay, so what I found fascinating about 'Body Count' is that it's one of the only sources which observes Paul McCartney's mental health during the period between the India trip and when the band breakup really got rolling. I think it's overall a fairly self-absorbed text that definitely has some lies and exaggerations peppered in there to make things spicier and more dramatic, but its broad characterization - as I mentioned in my first post - isn't exactly libelous or out of left field. Some elements that make me think it's generally if not wholly authentic are: Paul's simultaneously forceful and dorky seduction style, his terrible Liverpool diet and poor housekeeping, the bouts of thrill-seeking recklessness, avoidant adventure crafting, dark moods when drinking non-socially, the occasional hot and cold bouts with the Apple Scuffs camped out at his gate, and the way in which he underplays his drug habit, which is SO "in truthfulness we spent most of the filming of Help! slightly stoned":

These details are so bizarrely specific and have significant overlap with both sympathetic and spurned personal accounts of Paul I've read in the past, so I believe Francie is just telling "Her Version Of The Truth" here rather than crafting a piece of pure fiction. The most important and revealing anecdote in the book is this one.

There's no reason not to believe this is a fairly accurate representation of something that actually happened, imo, since we know that anxious purse strings were an ongoing issue in the unusual turnover rate within the band Wings, and there are plenty of confirmed and rumoured cases alike of extended family members feeling entitled to a "piece of the pie"; this is just like, the kind of thing that happens to working class people who get catapulted into fame and fortune. And Paul in particular already had deep-seated financial anxiety for whatever reasons he'll never fully admit (as is his right, but I think his offhand claim that he "once heard some adults arguing about money and that's why" might actually be alluding to having heard some adults - y'know, like his parents - arguing over money fairly frequently). What esp interests me about the anecdote is the way Paul seems to connect the conflict b/t his dual "identities" with these financial expectations. Perhaps the CAPSLOCK emotional hysteria related in the book is puffed up for drama, but it does bring to mind one of the most revealing comments Linda ever made about their relationship, which is that Paul needed to be told he would still be loved when the cameras weren't rolling. And that's the thing: Francie caught Paul at the exact moment that the pillars of his Smile-For-The-Camera "Beatle" identity were collapsing; the dissolution of his relationships with John and Jane.

Whatever all this could possibly mean re: the breakup of the Lennon-McCartney partnership is a post for another time. What I wanna do instead is apply the level of speculation we usually reserve for that relationship to the endpoint of Paul and Jane's courtship.

So like, Paul and Jane: I know people are resistant to this specific POV, but I honestly just don't... think it was that deep? "Not deep", mind you, doesn't mean "not significant". Paul was obviously Jane's first love (u never forget), but the feeling I get from Paul's side (as a subconscious process I mean) is that Jane's importance was primarily as a lynchpin in his London Socialite persona. He loved her family, he loved the friend group, the artistic scene dating her gave him access to, as well as the leg up he got in the class system, etc. He liked to be the kind of guy who was dating Jane Asher. But I don't know that he was the guy who was dating Jane Asher, you get me? When people describe their "great love" they accidentally tell on them (Cynthia innocently describing Paul as being pleased to have her on his arm like a trophy; John: "it was an ordinary love scene"; Alistair Taylor noting that Paul was humiliated by the breakup). Paul's a serial monogamist who U-Hauls like a lesbian, of course, so he definitely took the relationship VERY seriously, but it's telling that all of his love songs to her were either about hitting a brick wall in arguments (certainly not dreamy, fond, yearning of "sunday morning fights about saturday night"; and occasionally expressing hints of class tension too), or completely non-descript Guy With A Guitar Trying To Get Laid shit. I could extrapolate a lot about Linda just from listening to McCartney I/RAM and the Wings discography, but 'And I Love Her' doesn't tell me a single thing about Jane besides that she's pretty. It could be about literally anyone the same way 'My Love' or 'Maybe I'm Amazed' could only be about his dynamic with Linda. Some of this is obviously the natural result of getting older and gaining emotional maturity; what I'm saying is that Paul's behaviour and self-expression in this relationship does not suggest to me that it was one in which his emotional maturity was able to develop or flourish.

I want to stress again that I don't think this belittles the significance of the relationship or makes it "bad" or "fake". Like, sometimes hot people just date for a while in their teens and twenties and love each other without necessarily unlocking their inner emotional cores, usually because they don't know how to. It's, like, fine. You need to experience relationships like that as stepping stones. I simply believe that this sort of front-facing social importance being prime in the romance is a major factor in why it ultimately didn't work (and probably in Linda's reported lingering jealousy of Jane, who wasn't just an ex, but also a symbol of the life Paul ditched to build a new identity w/ her, and sometimes still pined for). With Jane, Paul was dating the "right" kind of girl (didn't put out on the first date, erudite and middle class, as serious about her career as he was, a good "celebrity" match), but the relationship often wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Francie's observation is that by 1968 it also wasn't doing what he needed it to do either. This is the overwhelming "mood" in her affair with Paul McCartney: that he needed something very badly from a romantic partner that he just was NOT getting, and Francie couldn't figure out what it was either:

(note that she means "queer" as in "mad", not "gay")

This was an EXTREMELY roundabout way of asking: well, what WAS it that Paul needed a relationship to do for him? And I think this is Francie's big, accidental insight. The most scandalous claim in 'Body Count' is that Paul told Francie that he hit Jane and it "turned her on".

I personally think this is p. absurd absent any real proof to back it up, but like, what is Francie actually saying HE'S saying here? If she's exaggerating or lying, she's trying to make it believable within the psychological parameters laid out, right? It's not an expression of some secret desire to dominate women she's accusing him of, but emotional disturbance and confusion at the idea that the woman he was with might like that sort of forceful, masculine violence more than his softer, feminine side, which he was - yeah, we all know it - deeply insecure about.

Regardless of whether specific details are true or false (and I think there's both in this story, all hyper-magnified to make it, y'know, a ~STORY~), I think what might be true is the emotional undertow of the retelling, that this all taken together is actually representative of the side of Paul McCartney she was exposed to, at a time when his public and private facades had both become unbearable to the point of cracking and the drug-fueled optimism of the Summer of Love was getting scrubbed off of everyone and everything. It's the Paul McCartney who eviscerated frogs because he was worried he was too "soft" for compulsory military service. The Paul who modelled his masculine teen behaviour off John Lennon's fake "Marlon Brando" swagger, but was actually more fond of the velvet "Oscar Wilde" interior.

What's SO FASCINATING about all this to me, is I deeply believe that one of the key factors in what makes The Beatles music so unique and compelling is that both the songwriters experienced psychological strain from the tension b/t their parochial socially-defensive "masculine" pride, and their sensitive "feminine" core, the latter of which they were able to express in the unburdened emotionality of their music. The reason I care about doing these totally unhinged psych analyses is because I do think it reveals something about the underpinnings of the music, as well as the reasons why the band was such a hysteria-inducing phenomenon (the rise of psychology, imo, is almost as important as the rise of industrialization as a defining factor of the modern and postmodern eras; mass psychology can be understood and wielded in precise ways, and The Beatles were one of the first empires built on that). The subconscious drives caused by this tension have been ENDLESSLY picked apart re: John's psyche, but Paul's "mirrored" issues are very under-discussed (mostly b/c he's still alive so people are a little more leery about putting him on the "couch" as a historical figure). 'Body Count', intentionally or not, painted a portrait to me of someone who was drowning in their own ill-fitting celebrity "suit", collapsing under the weight of "Being" "Paul McCartney". A guy who desperately needed some sort of space to be vulnerable without feeling emasculated for doing it. By 1968, there was no one in his life anymore - and maybe there hadn't been for a while, or ever - who was giving him this space.

In other words: the thing he needed to avoid going "stark raving queer and killing himself" was simply someone who would love him 'after the ball'.

EDIT: read the comments for further clarification and discussion! ;)

#/#//#///#////#/////#the beatles #mccharmley #analysis #long post #Talking About Paul The Way I Talk About John lmfao #Taking Tabloid Bullshit Seriously #(if not literally)#*gets out my fake spectacles and jumps into the psychiatry armchair*#idk if i laid out my thoughts v well here but i hope it satisfied all the people who asked #i also tried to warn what genre of post it was for those who hate this kinda thing lol #i feel like i have more to say re: how toxic 'The Beatle' facade got for all of them by this point #and paul and john's mirrored post-india breakdowns #but francie's perspective is specifically on how it felt to be the girl he used to divebomb his relationship with jane asher SO

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fakecrfan · 3 years

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POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy. It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #self insert #reader insert #my writing

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

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Su-Zakana

2x08

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, insinuations to smut, murder, dead bodies, manipulation

Author’s Note: This took so long and it is super long and I am very tired but I really hope you guys enjoy!!!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary :Will helps investigate the case of a woman's body found inside of a horse; Alana worries about Will's intentions toward Hannibal; Will and Hannibal rush to protect a witness they believe to be in danger.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif) (this was one of those episodes where i’m like WILL IS PRETTY ALL GIFS OF WILL)

“Where are you off to?” you asked, looking up at Will. You were amazed at how compused he had been since arriving back from jail. You weren’t going to lie, it was attractive. But also semi worrying. Ever since he had sent someone to kill Hannibal he had been this way. Maybe it was just because he was more sure of himself now. Either way, you liked this Will more than the one who seemed to be breaking at every touch.

“Fishing.”

“It’s snowing,” you pointed out.

“Ice fishing.”

“Are you going alone? Should I come?”

“No, I’m going with Jack.” You scoffed and Will smiled. It was nice to see some things would never change and your distaste for Jack Crawford was one of those things.

“Alright, have fun then. Be safe!”

“I’m a good fisher Y/N,” Will promised. You shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you to be safe.”

You sat at Hannibal’s dinner table. It was odd to be back here. Sitting beside Will, across from Jack, near Hannibal. It reminded you of the times before your boyfriend was wrongly put in jail but then again, mostly everything did these days.

Hannibal placed the fish down on the table and you were happy to see the pieces of it and know Will had caught it.

“Truite saumonee au bleau with vegetables and broth, served with hollandaise sauce on the side. Beautiful fish Will,” Hannibal started to dish up each plate and place them in front of everyone. Will gave a strained smile.

“It was my turn to provide the meat,” he quipped and you chuckled a bit at that. Jack gave you a look but you couldn’t care less what he thought.

‘More flavorful and firm than farmed specimens. I find the trout to be a very Nietzsche-an fish. Trials of hsi wild existence find their way into the flavor of the flesh.” Hannibal sat down. “I hope ‘providing the meat’ doesn’t mean you still harbor doubts about what I serve at my table.”

“No doubts, Dr. Lecter. Only the wounds ew dealt to each other before we got to the truth,” Jack explained.

“Speak for yourself Jack,” you said, cutting harshly into the fish on your plate. Hannibal had to admit how distinguished you and Will looked beside each other once more. Like all was right in the world.

“Which is why we need to move past apologies and forgiveness. Chilton has many victims besides the dead,” Hannibal countered. “We will absorb this experience and it will change us. We are all Nietzsche-ian fish in that regard.”

“Makes us tastier,” Will said and you couldn’t help but smile. Funnier then he had been before. Hannibal and you shared a secret glance.

“None of our actions were personal,” Jack said.

“I tried to have Hannibal killed. Isn’t personal?” Will inquired. You wanted to tell him that he was on fire tonight but bit your tongue.

“No because you did not succeed,” you said, pointing a fork at Hannibal. “Clearly.”

“You thought I was a killer,” Hannibal said.

“I don’t blame Miriam Lass for shooting Frederick Chilton. I wanted to kill him myself.” Jack looked away from the three of you. The situation itself was so odd to him. He didn’t understand where you stood with the boys and how the boys stood with themselves.

“Greatest crime now would be to walk away from what we’ve shared and suffered. In many ways, we need each other. We’re the only ones who will know what this feels like,” Hannibal said simply. Will took a bite of the dish.

“This fish is delicious.”

You snuck a smile

Jack got up and left before you and Will. You glanced out the window behind where Hannibal usually sat. It was snowing steadily. You heard the door shut, Jack had been gone. You turned back, your hair falling on your back. Will and Hannibal walked inside the dining room.

“It’s snowing,” you whispered. They both smiled but the smile was different. Will smiled at you because he had seen this bit of you. The part excited by the snow. He smiled at a piece of you he knew. Hannibal smiled because he felt like you never showed this piece of you.

“Looks like it,” Will said. “We should go soon.” You nodded and moved away from the windows.

“Yes we should. It’s getting late.”

“Actually I was hoping to run something by the two of you” Hannibal said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Will asked, back stiffening.

“If you are pursuing working with Jack perhaps,” Hannibal said which made you narrow your eyes. You hadn’t talked with Will about that yet. “I was hoping to have Y/N come with us.”

Will looked at Hannibal hard. He tried to figure out this angle. To an untrained eye it was likely because Hannibal wanted to spend time with you. To Will, he wondered if you coming along was to keep both of them in check. Perhaps it was something entirely different.

“I would love to. Especially if Will decides too.” Hannibal nodded.

“Then it’s settled.”

In the car you looked over at Will as he drove back to your home. The snow was coming harder but you could only tell by the headlights.

“Are you really going to go back to working with Jack?”

“I don’t know.” You looked out the window, not being able to look at him.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Will nodded.

“I know you don’t.” He glanced at you. “You’ve always been against it. But I can handle it now. It might even help me.”

“But if it breaks you…” you trailed off.

“It won’t.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You nodded.

You sat at your desk, fiddling with your pen when the appointment came in. Margot Verger. She was a pretty thing, someone you could probably be friends with. She approached you with a sense of cool confidence.

“Verger?” You nodded.

“Right on time. He’ll come when he’s ready,” you promised. She nodded and sat at one of the chairs. You watched her for just a moment before she caught you. What an interesting lady.

Alana stood across from you. She had come to Hannibal's office to see you while Margot was in.

“Can I help you Miss. Bloom?” She had a stiff back and you could tell whatever she wanted to talk about was not something you wanted to hear about. You had been distant from her since Will tried to kill Hannibal.

“I’ve been talking with Hannibal,” she said simply and the way she said it made you wonder what the talking insured. “I want to know how Will is.” She paused and you didn’t answer her, looking up at her from your desk chair. “I want to know if he’ll hurt Hannibal again.”

You paused a second longer as you studied her.

“Are you and Hannibal...sleeping together?” you asked, laughing a bit. She looked straight at you. You felt semi betrayed. You couldn’t tell by who.

“Is he safe?”

“I don’t know Alana.” Your voice was cold, calculated. “Is he?”

The door opened and Hannibal stepped out. He raised an eyebrow at the two of you. You hadn’t slept together but you thought there was something there, something unspoken. Something with Will, something different. You must have been wrong.

“Hello Alana,” Hannibal said. You stood up.

“I have to go home,” you said simply. Hannibal shook his head.

“I was hoping to speak with you alone. Can you excuse us?” Alana then seemed semi betrayed by the both of you. Served her right. You nodded and grabbed your jacket, showing him that you weren’t going to be staying long. You walked into the office and Hannibal shut the door right in Alana's face.

You stepped in further and walked to your regular seat on his desk. You leaned against it, following him as he walked in.

“Yes?” you asked, a touch of annoyance in your voice. You knew it was unfounded but you ignored it for the moment.

“Do you know why Will tried to kill me?” Hannibal asked. A tough memory for both of you but you ignored the emotions.

“Because he thinks you're the Ripper,” you stated dumbly. Hannibal walked over to you and leaned against the desk beside you. His hand landed on yours but neither of you addressed it.

“It wasn’t to avenge Beverly Katz’s death. It was to prevent yours. He was protecting you. The only way he felt he had left in him.” You thought about this a moment. You looked down at the floor and nodded.

“I’m afraid he’s opened a door in himself that won't’ close again,” you muttered and looked over at Hannibal. “And knowing I had a hand in opening it makes my stomach churn.” Hannibal smiled weakly.

“I don’t believe you were truly the one at fault.”

You shared a long look and then you got up.

“I hope Alana has fun tonight,” you said slowly. “I know I will,” you told him as you opened the door to the office.

Despite the fact that you were only able to see Hannibals face for a moment you knew that your comment had hurt him. You were beginning to understand that Hannibal didn’t want to be Alanas. He wanted to be Wills. He wanted to be yours. He wanted to be part of the two of you and telling him, so blatantly, that he wasn’t was a power move.

You passed Alana and were no longer bitter.

She was being used.

You stood at the stables beside Jack. Will was inside one of the doors, doing his thing. You and Jack were alone outside.

“I’m annoyed that he’s here,” you said. “For the record.” Jack nodded.

“I’m annoyed you’re here. I suppose no one got what they wanted.” You looked over at Jack. How oblivious that man was.

Will stepped out.

“It’s a coffin birth. Decomposition builds up gasses within and putrefied the body and pushes the dead fetus out of its mother’s corpse. It’s really more of a prolapse than a birth,” he explained.

“Not to whoever did this,” Jack said.

“Whoever did this knew the horse. Knew she was dying because her foal was born dead. Knew Sarah Craber. He’s familiar with the stables. He knew when he wouldn’t get caught. He works here or maybe used to. He has medical knowledge of animals, but isn’t a veterinarian. He considers himself a healer.”

“How is he healing?” Jack asked.

“Sarah Craber was reborn. And a mother and her child are finally on the same side of life. This wasn’t a murder.” Will looked over at the two of you and away from the corpse. “This was grief.”

“Peter Bernardone?” Jack called. You stepped inside a small place, filled with metal cages containing small wild animals. Will walked closely beside you. The fact that you were there did leave him with a certain level of comfort. He was surprised how that made him feel.

A wild looking man was in the house, scrambling around. He wouldn't focus on you or Jack or Will. Instead he focused on the animals and the things around him.

“You don't seem curious who we are,” Jack pointed out.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Agent Jack Crawford. FBI. This is Will and Y/N Graham. We’d like to ask you about someone you might have had contact with when you worked at Blackbriar Stables. Sarah Craber. Her body was found recently in very unusual circumstances,” Jack explained.

“I heard.”

“There was a bird in her chest. Did you hear about that?” Will questioned.

“Is the bird alive?” Peter asked. Will looked taken aback and curious.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Who’s taking care of it?” Peter asked.

“How well did you know Sarah Craber?” Jack asked and you thought that was rather rude.

“I didn’t know her.” He was so skittish, his mind in so many different places.

“Would you mind looking at a photograph for me?” Peter shook his head and then turned around, murmuring something to his animals.

“I know who she is, I just didn’t know her.”

“Just to be sure,” Jack said. He handed Peter the photo. Will watched him closely, as did you. Peter glanced wildly around and when he did look at the picture it was very briefly.

“Peter, you had a head injury when you worked at the stables,” you said gently. Jack looked annoyed that you were speaking.

“I was kicked by a horse,” Peter explained.

“It’s an atypical motor response. Peter’s ability to look and touch can only happen as separate events,” you explained a bit.

“Aggravated by stress, isn’t it?” Will asked. He nodded, surprised the two of you had gotten it so on the nose.

“Are you feeling stressed?” Jack asked.

“I’m worried about the bird,” Peter explained.

“A woman is dead, Mr. Bernardoen. And you’re worried about a bird,” Jack said bluntly.

“I’m sad for her, I’m sad for the horse. But I can’t help them. I can help the bird.”

Therapy for Will was still hard for you. You didn’t like it. You didn't’ like not knowing what was going on in the room beside you, if Will was being hurt, if Hannibal was being hurt. You were usually told about it after but sometimes things were left out or forgotten.

Will sat on your desk and you looked at him.

“If I wasn’t doing this as an official session then I would let you come in,” he said gently.

‘I don't’ want to invade your privacy like that,” you explained. “I just wish I knew he wasn’t hurting you.”

“Do you think he’s going to hurt me?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I think you might hurt him.”

“Are you worried about that?” Will asked. You shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

Hannibal opened the door.

After Will talked to Peter some more alone he came up to you. He was stiff, like something was bothering him.

“I’m getting Alana to talk to the social service man assigned to Peter,” Will stated. You nodded.

“I’m sure that’ll help something.” You paused. “Why?”

“Because someone wronged that man as much as I was wronged,” Will explained, voice barely audible. “I want to see him held accountable.” You nodded. “I want you there while Alana does it. Hannibal and Jack will be there too but I want you there.”

You couldn’t tell if he wanted you there to witness it or to be a crutch. Either way you nodded.

“Anything you want.”

You sat in the back seat, Hannibal driving and Will in the passenger seat. The night was dark as you drove to the stables.

“You look like a man who has suffered an irrevocable loss,” Hannibal pointed out.

“I’m trying to prevent one,” Will explained.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernardone, you can save yourself?” Hannibal asked.

“Save myself from who, Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“From who you perceive me to be.”

“I’m afraid I need to be saved from who you perceive me to be. And for the record, I’m not the only one who sees you that way,” Will said.

“Ah yes. Because you share in his beliefs don’t you Y/N?” Hannibal asked, looking in the rearview mirror at your face.

“Yes I do. Well truthfully I dont’ think Will’s ever been wrong about anything so I have to believe him. It’s my code,” you said simply.

“Even with all you know me to be?” Hannibal asked. He was referring to the nights you spent together.

“After all Alana Bloom and I know you to be,” you quipped. Hannibal smiled a bit. He deserved that one.

“Everytime you think about it, it stings, doesn't it? Wondering if I could be right about Will.” He was talking to both of you at this point. “Many troublesome behaviors strike when we are uncertain of ourselves. Peter Bernardone lies in the same darkness that holds you Will.” Will looked straight ahead.

“I’m alone in that darkness,” Will said.

“You’re not alone, Will. I’m standing beside you. Y/N stands closer,” Hannibal said and you nodded.

“He has you there.”

Will walked beside you and Hannibal into the stables where Peter waited. You were the first to see him as you were the first in the stables piece where he was. You were all silent however until Will spoke.

“Peter...is your social worker inside that horse?” Peter nodded. You almost scoffed at the absurdity of the question.

“We are hardwired to see human beings everywhere. Every animal. Every life. We’re all human,” Peter explained but he looked disheveled, bad.

“Every God is personified,” Hannibal stated simply.

“He couldn’t see that. He forfeited his humanity. I forfeited mine. I used to have a horrible fear of hurting anything. He helped me get over that. Feels so abnormal.”

“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior,” you whispered.

“He deserves to die,” Peter said.

“But he didn’t deserve to kill him,” Will stated. You felt his heart then. You wondered perhaps if Will could feel your emotions how easily you could feel his. “I want you to come with me, Peter.”

Peter stood and allowed Will to lead him away. You gave Will and look, a look of worry. Will gave you a look of comfort back. He was in control. He was okay. You stayed with Hannibal.

“Happy I suggested you tag along?” Hannibal questioned. You both walked over to the sheep that were there and started to pet them a bit.

“Actually, yes. I want to see what Will goes through.”

“Always his savior.” You glanced at Hannibal.

“Is Alana yours?” He chuckled but thought about it for a moment.

“Curiously enough I think you might also be my savior as well. In a way, differently than Will.” You were satisfied with that answer and you had to be because the horse started to move. The stitches ripped open and the social worker you had seen talk to Alana stepped out.

“Mr. Ingram,” Hannibal said, stepping away from the sheep. Ingrahm stood up. “Might want to crawl back in there, if you know what’s good for you.” You scoffed and nodded. Hannibal stepped aside and Will held up his gun to the man. You wanted to swat it away from him. For a moment you recognized the ease he held while he pointed the gun, the almost attractiveness he held.

“Officer, I’m the victim here,” Ingram said. He got on his knees and Will pointed the gun at his head.

“I’m not an officer. I’m a friend of Peter’s.” You walked up to Will but didn’t touch him. You and Hannibal shared a look.

“Peter’s confused.”

You had been raising a hand before Ingram said then. You dropped it just as quickly as you had raised that. You had heard those words spoken to you about Will countless times. All three of you realized that.

“I’m not,” Will said sternly. “Pick up the hammer.”

“Will,” Hannibal said.

“Pick it up.”

“It won't’ feel the same, Will. it won’t feel like killing me,” Hannibal said.

“It doesn’t have to. I know what it will feel like. It’ll feel good,” Will said. You watched his face. A focus came over him that you barely recognized.

“You did the best anyone could do for Peter, but don't do this for him. Not for Mr. Ingram’s victims or their many friends and relatives who would love to see him dead. If you’re going to do this Will…” he paused, “You have to do it for yourself.”

“Please don’t,” Ingram whispered.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“This is not the reckoning you promised yourself, Will.”

Will was so close to pulling the trigger. You could see his finger shaking. The trigger clicked but it didn’t hit. Hannibal took the gun swiftly from Will’s grasp and put his hand on the back of Will’s head.

“With all my knowledge and intrusion, I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar, whisper through the chrysalis, but what hatches follows its own nature and is beyond me,” Hannibal whispered. He let your boyfriend go and you walked over, grabbing Will’s arms as he stumbled into your embrace. Hannibal watched the two of you, Will still shaking from adrenaline.

He watched as you brought a hand up and grabbed Hannibal, hugging him too.

Finally you pulled away from both of them and looked at the social worker.

“What do we do with this guy now?”

2x09

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagine #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal imagines

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writerman · 3 years

Note

For the prompts, could I ask for elbarduil where Bard is a half elf like Elrond but has had to keep it a secret so Thranduil and Elrond don’t know and Bard just kinda forgets to tell them, and then one day after something happens to Bard and he gets hurt, BAM they find out and realize Bard isn’t going to die of old age like they thought, they’re not going to lose him.

I did not mean to write all 2,773 words today but I figured I had kept you waiting long enough for my sorry butt to get some motivation in me to write...

Thank you for sending in the prompt, I truly appreciate it and I very much enjoyed this request and now I want more half-elf Bard.

—————-

“He lost a considerable amount of blood I saw it all,” Elrond began, his eyes scan the courtyard until his gaze fell to Bard who was sat fussing the stable cat. He looked as he always did only tired. “I feared it was the end of him, Thranduil. He was pale and weak, my heart knew he would not see the end of the day…” Elrond’s voice soft now as he relived the memory vividly in his mind.

Thranduil, however, looked unconvinced as he turned to watch Bard with narrowed eyes. Of course, his entire demeanour and excellent health left Elrond to look a little… off his mark but it was not in the lord to lie.

“Yes, he truly looks close to death, all that walking and talking and laughing. By the stars, he is on the precipice of life and death. I see it now.” Thranduil received a gentle nudge in the ribs from Elrond and they both shared a smile that slowly dissolved into quiet laughter.

“I am sure whatever it is Bard will tell us.”

“If he even knows himself.”

“You are right. It is best that we only remain thankful he is still with us at all.”

They remained standing under the archway that led from the royal quarters to the courtyard and simply watched as Bard took in the summer sun blissfully unaware that his husbands were inwardly perplexed at his survival.

It was not until they mentioned his injuries over dinner that night did it occur to Bard that they had no idea he was in fact half-elven just like Elrond.

Then and there would have been the perfect chance to tell them, to dramatically reveal he hadn’t been human this whole time!

Cue random gasps of surprise and maybe some applause.

But the moment was gone before he could even fathom how to word such a thing. Thranduil had changed the subject to Elrond’s subpar wine and a light sprinkling of bickering flavoured the conversation for the rest of the meal.

All thoughts of the accident and Bard’s miraculous recovery had dissipated now, the conversation did not come up again until Thranduil appeared one morning dressed to kill in robes fancier than Bard had ever laid eyes upon before.

“We are riding to Lothlorien today, will you join us?” Bard, still in his everyday wandering around pretending-not-to-be-king clothes, paled for a moment as his mind raced and his heart started beating faster than a hummingbird’s wing.

Lothlorien, where his dearest naneth resided. It did open the floor to Bard explaining who he was and it would be easier with his mother there to back him up, even though it was rather unlikely that Thranduil and Elrond would not believe him.

“Yes, I think a trip would be nice. Why are you heading out that way?” He hoped the question was as casual as it should have been. It must have been because Thranduil sighed and gestured vaguely in the direction of Elrond’s voice that floated down the hall.

“To visit extended family.”

More than you have any idea about, Bard thought but instead of speaking he merely offered Thranduil a sunny smile that spoke of innocence where there was none.

With a silent order to change Bard got up and hastily dressed in something more fitting to see Galadriel and Celeborn. Meeting Galadriel was always such a jarring experience though not at all negative… just jarring and she was always so kind to him and not at all surprised that he was aware of elven customs, unlike Elrond and Thranduil had been.

It would be near 6 hour trip from Rivendell to Lothlorien and Bard found the time passed with the blink of an eye. How long had it been since he had been there to see his mother and how long had Galadriel pretending she had not known he was there?

Regardless of who did know, he was more aware of who did not and just how they might feel when he suddenly springs it on them that he was not a frail little mortal man they needed to constantly worry about every moment of the day.

That wasn’t fair, they knew he was strong and capable but there were time Bard forgot just who he was and allowed them to coddle him even if it was only in the slightest of ways. So used to being seen as just any other human living among humans it was easy to carry on as one would.

And no one had yet commented on how little he had aged only that he looked good and healthy which was enough for him because it was safe and if not a little bit pleasing to hear.

They were greeted at the gates by Haldir who called for the entry to be opened for their arrival. Bard gave a hearty wave which the elf returned which earned him a few peculiar looks but it didn’t seem to bother Haldir in the slightest.

“Elrond and I must discuss elven matters, would you like to join us?” Thranduil sounded bored before he’d even attended the meeting and Bard truly felt for him because he knew Thranduil would have preferred to be doing something more interesting than reminiscing about a time so long ago it seemed inconsequential.

“I shall leave you to your important matters and I will find something to occupy myself with for the time being.” All he wanted to do was get out of his riding gear and drink something cold and sweet to refresh himself before he slunk off to find his mother.

It would be a pleasant surprise for her to see him and the thought of seeing her joyous smile spurred him on and he set off for the rooms he was usually given when visiting, he was well aware they would already be ready for them.

“I shall just go on without you then,” Thranduil called out after him and Bard threw a smile over his shoulder his dark gaze meeting with Thranduil’s pale one as they share a fleeting moment of humour before Elrond took the blond’s attention and they strolled in a leisurely manner towards their welcome party.

It might have been seen as bad manners not to greet Galadriel and Celeborn but he was sure they wouldn’t hold it against him. After all, he was a human and could not possibly manage to ride 6 hours on horseback and then sit talking for hours drinking wine strong enough it could knock out a full-grown cow.

Once in private Bard stripped over the leather riding gear and smoothed out his shirt and tidied his now wild hair into something more presentable for his naneth. The anticipation of surprising her was unbearable and the jittery excitement inside him had him pacing the room as he tried to cool himself and give himself time to slip out of the guest quarters unnoticed.

-----

“They do not know about me do they?” Leithriel asked her smoky voice was coloured with humour as she smiled to the point the corners of her eyes crinkled. A true and, almost, delighted smile.

“No, and it isn’t as though I was trying to hide it from them, it just never came up in conversation and it took me being gravely injured for me to consider that, perhaps, they didn’t ask me about mortality because they were afraid mine was fragile.” Bard had his elbow on the dark polished surface of her living room table with forehead rested in palm as he stared at his own reflection.

“You surround yourself with sons and daughters that have lives as quick and as wild as a raging sea. I can see why you would not recall your own heritage when I see rarely see you these days.” Leithriel’s smile faded Bard could hear in her voice that she regretted her actions.

“You belong in Lothlorien. You would never have been happy in Laketown or Dale without Da. And I would not ever ask you to join me there, we both know I won’t be there forever. One day I might even come here for good.” Leithriel arched a brow at him in question, she looked wholly unconvinced by his words and shook her head.

“You would leave your husbands and come here to live with me?” When she put it like that it did sound embarrassing but it wasn’t what he had meant.

He sat back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair hoping the action would ease his mind. There was a genuine fear that Thranduil and Elrond would be unhappy even angry with him for hiding this from them.

While the logical part of his mind told Bard that he was being ridiculous he still couldn’t help but worry that it had been too long and that it would appear as though he had hidden it from them when that really wasn’t the case.

“You will not settle here if you do not tell them now.” She was right, of course, and she knew it. “Before you go, I had something made for you.” Rising slowly from her seat with grace Bard knew he’d never possess, Leithriel left the room returning moments later with a package wrapped in pretty silvery paper tied with string white string.

“I had hoped to send this before your next visit but now is a better time than any to give you this. You married so quickly that I was unable to offer this to you for the wedding but I suppose it will do as an outfit for dinner tonight when you are with Galadriel and Celeborn.” There was a quiet sadness in her voice that Bard wanted to ask her about but before he could he was urged by her to open the package.

Not wanting to argue or delay what seemed to bring her joy Bard unknotted the string and let the paper fall open revealing neatly folded fabric. He set it on the table so he could stand up and when he lifted the first piece from the set it unfolded revealing a striking burgundy outer robe.

“The first robe your father ever had made for him by elven tailors. He was ecstatic about it, burgundy and black and he cut quite a fine figure in it too, though he soon became a slight bit too round to wear it as he got older. Morvan wanted you to have it, ion nin.”

His father had never been the kind of man that had been interested in holding onto his possessions and had always favoured skills over things. There wasn’t much left to keep of his father’s after he had died, and his mother had found it too painful to house anything that reminded her of Morvan other than his picture which hung proudly still on the wall of her library.

“I want to put this on now.” Bard didn’t wait for a response as he strode from the room with the clothing gathered up in his arms.

The black tunic and leggings fit perfectly and those garments alone made him feel so noble how a king should look. As he slid the outer robe over his shoulders the picture was complete and for a moment Morvan stared back at him instead of Bard’s own reflection. Those same brown eyes and wild wind-ruffled waves of dark brown hair he had been the very image of that man and how he missed him for a moment.

Returning to the living area Bard felt he could not speak, the air in his lungs held as though trying to stay in the moment for a while longer, to hold the feeling of pride inside him for as long as he could.

“I- my eyes would deceive me I swore on the stars I thought you were your father.” Her eyes shone as she spoke and Bard released the breath from his lungs and crossed the room to embrace his mother in thanks and in comfort.

When they parted she shooed Bard from her home with a smile but he knew there was still pain there and should he have lingered his appearance would only have made it worse. With a quick farewell, Bard crossed the courtyard and met Thranduil and Elrond as they left their quarters to go in search of him.

“Oh my, we leave you to your own devices and suddenly you have a sense of style that may even rival Thranduil’s?” Elrond leaned in to press a soft kiss to Bard’s cheek in greeting and apology for leaving him so long.

The sun had set and the warm evening lay before them with the song of night birds drifting through the trees.

“Where did you go to find such clothing. This is the finest tailoring I’ve seen you ever wear and it has the Lothlorien style stamped all over it.” Thranduil slid a hand around Bard’s waist his excuse was to inspect the quality of the fabric but he was definitely just admiring how well it was shaped to his body.

“This is the perfect moment to tell you that my mother gave it to me.” His bright and airy response was certainly out of character and certainly put on but rather than question the tone of voice both Elrond and Thranduil share a quick look before allowing Bard to continue.

“My mother lives here and this was my father’s robe she said he wanted me to have it. Which means, as I am sure you worked out in no time at all, I am half-elven.” Had his heart ever beat so fast in his life?

Silence.

More silence.

“We know. We realised rather quickly when you were near death and recovered in record time from something that would have killed any normal man.” Thranduil drawled yet he tempered the tone with a smug smile, his hand still planted on Bard’s waist.

“However, we were not aware of which parent was elven and if they were still alive,” Elrond added as he moved to Bard’s other side. “What we do know is that we are so very relieved you felt comfortable to tell us this and that you will be with us far longer than we could have ever imagined.”

Bard felt himself visibly relax as he was led back into the guest quarters. What could have been a tense and uncomfortable moment was breezed through leaving Bard with little to worry about though, there was something else on his mind.

“You know, it is all well and good me being elven and all but you do still have to meet my mother and she still has to like you.”

The sound of wine being poured into goblets punctured the silence before Thranduil scoffed.

“I’ve not met anyone who does not like me.”

“Do you enjoy saying such ridiculous things to those that know you intimately?” Elrond queried taking Thranduil’s goblet of wine from the blond’s and handing it to Bard before Thranduil could even begin to take a sip.

“Your reputation precedes you, meleth. You are a ray of light to us but from the outside looking in you may be seen as, ah, tad wintry upon first meeting.” It was a gently as Elrond could put it without dancing around the words and Bard was so wonderfully entertained by it all.

“What he’s trying to say is, sometimes Thran you can really be a bi-” His words were cut off as a cushion hit him in the face.

“Alright, alright, I am quite aware of what you are trying to tell me. It just seems to me that there is nothing to worry about. I am charisma personified when I need to be.”

“Well, I have never once witnessed that.” Elrond quipped now taking the second goblet Thranduil had poured.

“You don’t seem concerned about meeting his mother, why are you the embodiment of calm?” Thranduil questioned now crossing the room to pour his drink out of reach of nabbing hands.

“Oh, I am not calm. I am positively terrified but at the same time, I had to meet Galadriel and Celeborn once upon a time. I sincerely doubt it can be any worse than that.”

Maybe not but Bard was not going to let them know, either way, it was far more interesting to see them suffer the unknown. Both of them never knowing when Bard might spring a meeting on them and leaving them wholly unprepared.

The trip to Lothlorien was truly not a wasted one.

#Barduil #Bard the bowman #Thranduil #Elrond #Elbarduil #The Hobbit #Writing Prompt #justsuffilike

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Forever

Summary: Logan knew it was just a matter of time before Remy left him. There was only so much one person could give before they needed something in return, and Remy was going to hit that breaking point sooner or later. Remy just wished Logan could see how much he was giving them. Content: Blind!Logan, insecurities/self-worth issues in relation to being blind, mentions of becoming blind, fear of being dumped, crying, hurt/comfort, happy ending, nb!Remy Pairing: Romantic losleep Notes: Written in @emo-disaster‘s blind logan au- I suggest you read their stuff before this, though technically this fic can stand alone. Also, I’m not blind, and my knowledge of living life blind is pretty limited, so!! if there are any inaccuracies in this fic please let me know and I’ll do my best to remedy them!

It had been months since what Remy had taken to calling ‘the accident.’ Logan had his own name for it, but Remy said it was too long and not good for his mental health, so Logan tried to avoid thinking of it as ‘the completely preventable accident that changed everything and stole away the stars’ and just referred to it by Remy’s name for it.

Logan was adjusting. He was learning how to use a cane to get around and getting fairly good at it. He had learned braille. He could move about his and Remy’s house independently. He could do a lot of things independently now.

That didn’t, however, make Logan independent, and he couldn’t help but be bothered by it.

At first, the only thing he was bothered by was how useless he felt. He hated how much he had to rely on Remy to do things that used to be mundane and commonplace. Remy was amazing, of course, and Logan couldn’t ask for anyone better to help him, but that comfort only helped so much.

Eventually, however, he got used to it. It was survival of the fittest, after all- he was in a new situation, he had to adapt. And if adapting was letting Remy help walk him around the house until he got better with his cane and memorizing floor layouts, then that was what Logan would do.

As soon as he had accepted that, however, a new problem ‘reared its ugly head’ in Logan realizing just how much of a burden he had become. Remy would never let Logan call himself that, Logan knew, but it couldn’t stop him from feeling like one.

Remy seemed to always be there when Logan needed them, whether to help him with something or even to just take a break and relax with him. Not to mention, Remy had quit their job for Logan- they said that they could freelance program just as well, that they preferred the new flexibility in their life because of it anyways, but Logan knew that was just a cover. Without a stable job, Remy had no benefits, no insurance or medical plans, no promise of a paycheck. Until Logan found a job- a new one; the accident may have been the byproduct of his own foolish past times, but that didn’t mean he felt chemist was really the job for him anymore- Remy was the sole provider for the both of them, working a job with no guarantees just so they’d be there if Logan needed them.

And Logan… well, he was getting better at not knocking things over when he tried to perform basic tasks.

Suffice to say, he felt pretty useless. Useless and… confused. Remy was doing so much work, all of it for Logan’s sake, but they were just… boyfriends. Dating. Not married, not engaged, not bound together by any real promise or law. It had to be easier, Logan thought, to just dump him so that they could move on with their life.

He had decided, after a bit of thinking, that Remy was just waiting for a good time to dump him. Dumping someone right after they lost their eyesight would be rude, and even if they weren’t going to keep dating, Logan was sure he and Remy would still be friends. Remy probably just wanted to help Logan adjust to his new life before informing him that there was no way they were going to work now. And while Logan did appreciate the sentiment, waiting for that day to come, for the figurative other shoe to drop, was becoming a tense activity.

Because as logical as he knew the action would be, for Remy to dump him and move on, therefore allowing them to continue to live their life unburdened of Logan, Logan still feared the day it would come. He loved Remy, after all, and even if the break-up would be better for them, Logan knew he would miss them, miss cuddling with them and sassing with them and hearing them call him ‘starshine’ and the smell of coffee that always hung about them.

But it would be better for them. So as much as Logan hated the thought of it, he knew it had to happen. And he knew he would be alright, eventually, as long as he could remember that, even if Remy wasn’t his anymore, they’d be happier.

Which is how he had ended up here. He was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, his feet lifted up and balancing on top of the base rungs of it to avoid putting his feet down into milk or ceramic. It had been an accident, of course. He hadn’t meant to accidentally hit the side of his mug of milk too hard when he was trying to pick it back up, he hadn’t meant to forget just where it was on the counter in the first place. But he had, and it had fallen and broken, and Remy had still shown up and refused to let Logan try and clean it up, and it was still all his fault that Remy was busy cleaning the floor of Logan’s mistake instead of working.

Of course, Logan was getting better about this. Mistakes like this one didn’t happen often. But they still happened. And it was still always Remy fixing them.

“Why are we still together?” Logan asked, regretting it as soon as the words made it out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Just because he knew Remy was going to break up with him didn’t mean he wanted to make it happen any sooner. But words said couldn’t be taken back, and Logan knew both he and Remy had been thinking them much too long anyways. Might as well put it out in the open.

Logan didn’t have to see Remy to know they had stopped cleaning, to know they were looking at Logan now, to know they were tilting their head and furrowing their brow. “What?” They said, voice quiet and confused.

Logan tugged on his fingers, not bothering to hide the nervous action. “Why are we still together?” He repeated, because surely Remy must’ve missed the question, because this was really the perfect moment to end it, to end them, and if they knew what Logan had said they would’ve already taken their chance-

Logan’s hands were suddenly in Remy’s, his boyfriend apparently now in front of him. Their grip was gentle but firm, and for a brief moment Logan wished they were holding him instead so that he could melt into that grip. “Because I love you.” Remy said, simply, as if that was all there was to it, as if that was an answer and an explanation all wrapped up in one.

“So?” Logan asked, hating himself more even as he did. He loved Remy too, so much, and they didn’t deserve to have their love met with ‘so.’ But Remy could love again, could love someone better, love someone who didn’t need to constantly be cared for. “You can love someone else.”

“I don’t want to love someone else, darling.” Remy responded, pain and worry now colouring their words. “I’m happy just as I am, right here, loving you.”

Logan shook his head. “No you aren’t.” He said miserably.

Thumbs rubbed over the back of Logan’s hands, the gesture likely meant to be reassuring. “What makes you say that?”

“You can’t be happy like this. Helping me with… helping me with everything. Paying for everything. Doing everything.” Logan told them, squeezing Remy’s hands in lieu of being able to squeeze his own. “And you can’t… you can’t love a burden.”

Remy squeezed Logan’s hands back, and Logan could tell from the grip it wasn’t just reassurance, wasn’t just a reminder that Remy was there. It was a reaction of surprise; probably surprise that Logan had called them out so easily. It was kind of them to say they were happy and all, but… Logan would rather they be actually happy than they try to be happy in a place where they couldn’t be.

But then Remy spoke, tone urgent and tight as if they needed Logan to hear whatever they had to say. “You’re wrong, beloved. Completely wrong.”

“Remy-”

“You’re not a burden. Gods, Lo, you could never be a burden to me.” Remy said fiercely, one hand releasing Logan’s and resting on his cheek instead. “I love you. I’m happy with you.”

“For how long?” Logan asked, his voice breaking as he spoke. Everything about Remy’s voice and words screamed real, but even if Remy still loved him now, Logan knew it couldn’t last.

“I- Forever. Logan, I’m going to love you forever.” Remy replied, both of their hands now on Logan’s cheeks.

Logan reached up, hands finding Remy’s wrists and holding onto them. He wasn’t sure if his eyes had been open before then or not, but they were squeezed shut now as he forced his tears not to fall. “It can’t last. You’ve already given up so much for me… you can’t keep giving forever. You’ll tire of it and then you’ll tire of me and you won’t love me anymore, no matter what you say.”

For a moment, there was silence. Logan wished he could see Remy’s face, see what they were thinking, what they were feeling, but it was the reason why he couldn’t that had gotten them there in the first place.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” Remy said. It wasn’t a question.

Logan nodded and the grip on his cheeks increased, even though it was still gentle. He let out a small sigh. He was going to miss this.

“I love you, starshine, and that’s not changing anytime soon.” Remy reiterated, voice soft. They pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, one just as gentle as their tone. “I just finished a project. Do you want to cuddle and listen to Big Hero 6?”

They’re avoiding the subject. Logan thought, his metaphorical heart falling. That meant… Remy knew what he was saying was true. They knew that, one of these days, it was all going to fall apart. Logan took it as a small win that they were distressed enough by the thought they were avoiding it, however. That meant that, for however long it would last, Remy did love him. Logan could work with that. He could cherish that.

“Don’t you have to finish picking up my mug?” Logan asked. He hated to bring it up, a reminder of just another reason why they weren’t going to work out, but a slippery floor with ceramic shards was more of a hazard than it had ever been for him before. It was for the best that it was cleaned completely.

“It’s already taken care of, hun, don’t worry.” Remy told him, moving their hands from Logan’s cheeks to hold his hands instead, helping him to his feet. They let go of one of Logan’s hands, clearly intending to let him lead the way to their bedroom, but Logan stepped closer to them and pressed himself into their side. He wasn’t sure how many more of these moments he’d be able to get, and he wanted to make the most of every one.

Without hesitation, Remy slipped an arm around Logan’s shoulders, holding him close. They still held one of his hands as well, starting off towards the bedroom at a pace that was steady and consistent, making it easy for Logan to match their stride.

They broke apart when they reached their bedroom, Logan moving to settle on the bed while Remy (presumably) saved out of their work and closed their laptop. Barely a minute passed before Remy was back, pulling Logan down so that his head was resting in their lap, already starting to play with Logan’s hair as they turned on the movie. Logan tried to focus on the niceness of the moment and not how much he’d miss it.

Because he would miss it, would miss the light scrape of Remy’s nails against Logan’s scalp as they convince him to relax, would miss Remy’s warmth as they held him close to them, would miss the sound of Remy lightly humming until the movie started and sometimes even when it was playing. He would miss Remy.

But while he was missing Remy, Remy would be free and happy. And if the choice was happiness without Logan or Logan without happiness, well…

If you love something, let it go.

“Remy, why are we here?”

“You’ll see babe, you’ll see. Er. You’ll understand.”

Logan ignored Remy’s slip of tongue. It was just an expression, and Logan had far more important things to worry about than phrasing that was technically inaccurate.

For example, why he and Remy were at the beach.

Remy had, of course, told Logan where they were going before they left, but Logan could’ve guessed where they were even if they hadn’t. He could hear waves lapping on the shore, and the smell of saltwater was still very recognizable. None of that answered why they were at the beach, but Logan figured it was nice to at least know where he was.

Remy bumped their arm against Logan’s, allowing him to take it if he so pleased, and Logan accepted the offer of help gratefully. He felt secure enough in his skills with a cane to get around by himself, but he hadn’t exactly attempted to navigate a beach yet.

Still providing no explanations, Remy began to move forward, their grip on Logan’s hand gentle but firm as they walked. Though Logan was careful to not go too fast, he found the sand to be less of a challenge to traverse than he thought. He still didn’t let go of Remy’s hand, however.

Logan stopped when Remy did, guessing from the sound and smell that they were now standing right on the shore. He poked his guide stick forward, suspicion confirmed by the small splash noise that was made when his stick hit ground again.

“Do you mind taking your shoes off, love?” Remy asked after a moment of them just standing there in silence, both enjoying the moment in their own way. On old instinct, Logan turned towards Remy, hoping his confusion showed on his face. It must have, because Remy chuckled before adding, “I’ll explain in a minute, I promise.”

Though he was confused, Logan did as Remy asked, using their arm to support himself as he tugged off his shoes. Having not put on socks (also at Remy’s request), Logan tried not to shudder at the texture of sand directly against his feet. It wasn’t a bad texture, just an odd one. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt it.

Logan dropped his shoes next to him. “Now what?” He asked, curious as to where all of this was going to.

He wasn’t expecting Remy to squeeze his hand and ask him, surprisingly seriously, “Can you feel the sand beneath your feet?”

“Can I-” Logan shook his head, more puzzled than he had been a moment ago. “Of course I can, Remy. My eyes are damaged, not my nervous system.”

“I know, babe, don’t worry. Just asking.” Remy said, which cleared nothing up for Logan. Remy tugged just a little bit on Logan’s arm, prompting him forward. “Step forward with me?”

Logan did so, only shivering a little as he stepped into the cold water. Despite the chill, the feel of the water around his feet and lapping at his ankles was nice.

“Can you feel the water?” Remy asked, once more prompting Logan to turn towards them, as if facing them would help Logan read them.

“Yes, I can.” Logan answered, still confused, now waiting for Remy to provide him with an explanation.

A breeze blew by. “Can you feel the wind in your hair?” Remy asked as it happened. Logan nodded. “Can you feel the sun on your skin?” Logan nodded again, the feeling of sun-warmed skin plenty familiar.

Remy tightened their grip on Logan’s hand. “Can you feel my touch?” They asked, their voice sounding slightly wrong, half a pitch too high.

Logan squeezed their hand back. “Of course I can, Andromeda.” Logan told them, the old but beloved petname rolling off his tongue before he could stop it. He had been trying to use less of them recently, to make the inevitable transition from dating to being single easier, but something about Remy seemed to be off, and it would always be Logan’s first reaction to try and help Remy when something was wrong.

Remy let out a small laugh at the petname, but Logan knew the reaction was a fond one, and he didn’t need to see Remy to know they were smiling now, a small but sappy expression that Logan intended to never forget.

There was a rustling noise as Remy moved, and a moment later their free hand was gently getting Logan to let go of his guide stick, leaving it to hang off his wrist instead. Hand now empty, Remy left his hand so that it was open and palm-up before pressing something into it and curling Logan’s fingers around it.

“Can you feel that?” Remy asked, their voice still a little off but almost in a good way, as if they were borderline giddy or trying not to be excited. Intrigued, Logan pressed his fingers even closer around the small object, trying to discern what it was.

It didn’t take long for Logan to figure out what it felt like it was. Circular, metallic but not heavy, no center. It felt like it was a ring. But it couldn’t be a ring- there was only one reason Logan could think of that Remy would be giving him a ring, and that wasn’t- that was never going to happen, so it couldn’t be a ring.

Further investigation of the object seemed to only be providing evidence to it being a ring, however. The hole in the object seemed to be just big enough to fit snugly on his ring finger. There were three slightly uneven bumps embedded in the metal, the middle one a little bigger than the others, just like inset gemstones. Raised points on the opposite side of the possible gemstones felt like braille, and after a moment Logan was able to make out the word they stood for- ‘forever.’

“The braille’s new.” Remy said softly as Logan ran his finger back over the dots again, trying to see if it was a different word, but only coming up with forever, forever, forever. “The ring’s not.”

“I…” Logan didn’t know what to say. The ring being old probably meant that Remy had gotten it before the accident- which was another thing he was going to have to contemplate soon- but adding the braille meant after the accident, meant after Logan went blind and after quitting their job and after having to do so much to help Logan, meant after all of that and still waiting to give Logan the ring. It meant… it meant more things than Logan felt he could process right then, maybe ever.

“I’m not asking you to marry me.” Remy said, which made Logan’s heart ache even though he knew there must be more to the explanation, even though most of him knew Remy wouldn’t want to marry him anyways; not now. “I don’t know if you’re ready for that, or if you want that. That’s not my call to make, and that’s not my decision to force on you. But that’s not the point.

“I love you, Logan. I loved you before the accident, I loved you after the accident, and I still love you now. That hasn’t changed.” Remy stopped for a moment, their free hand coming to rest on Logan’s cheek, catching the one tear that had begun to slip down Logan’s cheek and wipe it away. “Last week… you kept talking about being a burden, about how I would get tired of helping you and then I’d get tired of you. You said I was giving everything without getting anything. I told you you were wrong, but I could tell you didn’t believe me.”

Logan didn’t respond to that. Remy was right; he hadn’t believed them. Maybe he believed that Remy still loved him in the moment, but he wasn’t a fool. No moment lasts forever, and a relationship built on one person always giving and the other always taking was a doomed relationship.

“So that’s why I’m telling you again. You’re wrong, babe, so completely horribly wrong it really puts a shame to that big brain of yours.” Remy went on, tone both teasing and adoring, catching Logan off-guard. “You’re not a burden. I don’t think it’s possible for me to tire of you, much less leave you. And to say I’m giving without getting is a little rude to the love of my life, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped thinking like that.”

“...What are you saying?” Logan asked, slowly, fingers still pressing the ring into his hand hard enough to indent his palm, well aware another tear was slipping down his face even in his confusion.

“I’m saying that you give me so, so much, sweetheart.” Remy answered, sounding the slightest bit choked up, and Logan had the feeling if he touched their face he’d find tear tracks running down their cheeks. “You give me cuddles when I try to get out of bed before you and you indulge me when I do the same to you. You let me hold your hand even though I’m perfectly capable of just following you because I want to hold your hand. You rant about space and stars and planets to me when even slightly prompted. You accept my snark with a smile you pretend isn’t fond and you offer me a completely and unabashedly fond smile when I’m just playing with your hair. You give me your love,” Remy’s voice cracked there, but Logan had the feeling that wasn’t a bad thing, “and that is worth so, so much more to me than I think you know.”

Logan was properly crying now, tears falling down both his cheeks and making a mess of his face. Remy didn’t seem to mind as they pressed their forehead against Logan’s, pulling him close.

“It would be my greatest honor, pleasure, and joy to spend the rest of my life with you, to the point I’m more than willing to have it stamped out on some government paper.” Remy said, voice quieter but still filled with only love. “And if you wanted, I would marry you right now, or tomorrow, or in a week, or in a month, or in a year, or in a decade, or never. I would marry you if you were blind, deaf, and mute. I would marry you anywhere, anytime, anyway, because I love you, so damn much, and nothing is going to change that, much less the fact that you’re blind.”

“I love you.” Logan said, suddenly, his grip on Remy’s hand tightening almost too much. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Remy vowed in a breath. “That’s the whole point of this.” Their hand left Logan’s cheek, moving down to hold Logan’s hand, interlocking their fingers and trapping the ring between both of their palms. “I wanted you to be able to feel my love.” And then, softly, so softly spoken Logan almost missed it, “Can you feel my love?”

It was, objectively, a ridiculous question. One can’t feel love- it’s an abstract concept, something you can know exists in words and actions but can’t feel all by itself.

And yet, Logan knew without a doubt that the answer to Remy’s question was a firm yes. He could feel Remy’s love, logic be damned. He could feel it in every word Remy had just said. He could feel it in the warmth of Remy’s hands in his, to keep him steady in more ways than one. He could feel it in the new braille raised on old metal.

He could feel it because he knew it was there.

It only took one stumbled step forwards before Logan was against Remy’s chest, the ring once more firmly held in his hand alone as Remy’s arms wrapped around him and held him close, close enough Logan could feel Remy’s heart beat against their chest. He held onto Remy as best he could, pressing his face into Remy’s shoulder and crying, no longer in fear of an approaching end but in the overwhelming joy of a beautiful future.

“I’ll marry you.” He said a minute or two after he had finished crying, when it was just him and Remy, holding each other silently.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Logan responded, aware that he should wait, aware that he should step back from the situation and not make any decisions like this until he had calmed down from new realization that Remy wasn’t going to leave him, to make sure he wasn’t just trying to figuratively snatch Remy up before they could change their mind and get away from him. But he didn’t want to wait. He wanted to marry Remy and he wanted Remy to know he wanted to marry them and he wanted Remy to know that now.

Remy chuckled as they pressed a kiss against the top of Logan’s head, and Logan liked to believe he could feel Remy smiling as they did so. “Then you’ll marry me.” They promised before gently pulling away from Logan, one arm still wrapped around his waist as they took the hand Logan was holding the ring in. They pulled slightly at his fingers and Logan opened his hand, allowing Remy to pick up the ring before they turned his hand over, holding the palm of it while allowing the fingers to stretch out.

“May I?” They asked, the quiet request causing Logan to blush for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.

“Please do.” He responded, also quiet, his words laced with longing as well. Slowly, as if they wanted to savor the moment, Remy slipped the ring onto Logan’s finger. Logan wiggled his fingers, happy when the ring didn’t move. It fit perfectly.

“And now, we’re engaged.” Remy said, raising Logan’s hand so that they could kiss the back of it, causing Logan’s blush to deepen as he smiled. He leaned forwards a bit, happy when Remy met his lips a second later with their own.

The kiss wasn’t long- neither Logan nor Remy cared much for making-out or lip kissing in general- but it didn’t need to be. They already knew the importance of the moment, the beauty of each other, the love they shared that some might have called too much but they would’ve called not enough. The kiss was just a symbol of that. It didn’t have to be long, it just had to be theirs.

Logan pulled away after a few seconds, once more resting his head on Remy’s shoulder, this time not to cry but just to be close to them. He held his hands close to his chest, running his finger over the braille on his ring over and over and over, the repeated motion and word a continuous reminder of all that had just happened and all that would happen.

Gentle fingers worked their way into his hair, Remy settling their head on top of Logan’s as they played with his hair. “Do you want to go home and celebrate with cuddles?” Remy asked, their tone soft and fond and sweet in ways Logan wasn’t sure he had heard before but wanted to hear forever.

“Soon.” Logan answered. “I want to stay here a little longer.”

“Anything for you, starshine.” Remy replied, kissing Logan’s head again. Logan smiled into their neck, relaxing against them even more.

Though Logan could still feel the sand beneath his feet, the water around his ankles, the wind in his hair, and the sun on his skin, he wasn’t focused on them. His attention was held entirely by Remy holding him, by Remy’s hand combing through his hair, by Remy’s chest steadily moving up and down in time with their breaths, and by the braille on his ring. His attention was held by warmth and comfort and Remy. His attention was held by love. And his love’s attention was held by him.

And despite what challenges they might face, despite Logan’s worries and fears, despite everything that might stand in their way, that wasn’t going to change. They were going to be together. They were going to be in love. They were going to be happy.

And they were going to be like that forever.

#losleep #ts logan #ts sleep #ts remy #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blind logan au #blind!logan #nb!remy

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tossawary · 3 years

Text

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either.

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu.

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples.

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages!

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?”

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here.

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?”

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here.

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!”

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.”

SQH: “Oh, yeah.”

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny).

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so.

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later.

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system.

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore.

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.”

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now.

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy.

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably.

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

#tossawary svsss #pride is not the word #tossawary commentary

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axe-trio-commanders · 3 years

Text

OC Interview: Zori Sunblade

Draw (or use an old drawing, don’t worry!) or take a screen of your character in an interview setting and make them answer the following questions!

INTRODUCTION

Can you introduce yourself?

"That, uh... depends- this isn’t going on public record, right? I mean- not immediately?” [redacted] “Okay, yeah, after my death is... well- no, maybe Seremnis’ death. Or whenever she wants- okay, give it to her after my death and she’ll- yeah. Okay.” Shuffling and creaking of leather. “Zori Sunblade, member of the Sun warband, magister of the priory, pact commander by title, uh... oh- leader of Dragon’s Watch. And uh. Charr. Ranger. Uhm... hi?”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“...Uh... I think...” mumbled “...burn me I hope I remember the meaning of these right, been a while-” regular voice “Uh- she/her... lady friends, so far, and- actually been married for a while.” [She shows of a ring around her left-hand ring finger. Its gem gives off a faint glow.] “Still sort-of figuring out what that means, but I think I’ve got most of it down.”

Where and when were you born?

"...I, uh... hm. Lend me some paper and quill?” [Paper and quill is lent.] “...So it’s... 34, and that was... 25, when I was...” [She nods and taps the pen affirmatively on the paper.] “1306 AE, at, uh... all I remember or have been told is growing up in a fahrar around Rin.”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

“That depends. I can snipe pretty good with a longbow, but torch and axe are my go-to for close range... sometimes a dagger if I need to be a bit less conspicuous.”

Lastly, are you happy?

“...Well, that uh. That escalated quickly, huh?” laugh “Ah... sometimes. Sometimes... it’s- I guess I don’t clearly remember now if it’s harder than it used to be, but... I’m working on it.”

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

“Dragon’s Watch is my family. As is my warband, Aurene... Canach’s in there somewhere, too. It’s... I dunno. Some of them... still look up to me, I guess, after everything- some of them know me to well, some of them... I don’t know. Warband’s... complicated, right now, and I’ll probably always worry about Aurene... the people that know the most want to help, I know they do, it’s just... it’s hard to believe things will get better sometimes.” laugh “Probably not the best thing to hear from the charr you’ve put in charge of saving Tyria for the past nine years, huh?”

Have you ever ran away from home?

“...I... I don’t know. Maybe that’s what I’m doing now- burn me, I... really don’t think I can go back to the legions now, regardless of if things are changing or not. Don’t really think there’s been another... place I’ve ever called home.”

Would you consider marriage or having children?

“I mean- kinda too late to have second thoughts on marriage, huh? Ah, not that I would. I don’t think I’d want to live without her at this point, being honest...” Tapping of claws “...Cubs, though... I don’t know. Not now, definitely. If I’m going to be taking care of cubs, It’s not going to be at a time where I can’t do it myself. Be there for them. Burn me, I’ve had far too many examples of what happens when you don’t.” Pause “...Have sometimes fantasized about a quiet house somewhere in the woods, though. Whenever the disaster’s over.”

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“...Why would you call them your friends if...? No, if that was even a question. I’ve made it very clear who I hate, and... burn me, I guess... yeah, the only one who isn’t dead is Phlunt. And... Bengar, probably. Not sure if he’s, uh. Stable, right now? Not- I mean I don’t go out and murder whoever annoys me, that’s not- it’s a short list. It’s a very short list. I’m not going to murder someone over, like... burnt toast or something. That sort of thing is reserved for endangering my family.”

Which friend knows everything about you?

“...I- mm... I... some of them know more than others. Definitely, people in my family know more than people outside of it- ...burn me, I... I think, alltogether, if everyone I knew pooled knowledge they’d have everything, but... not any one. It’s... it’s habit, I guess.”

ASKED BY FANS

“Please tell me you’ve filtered these beforehand.”

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

"Okay, good start, uh... I mean, I’ve been through the fahrar, obviously, and I’m also a priory magister- I learned a lot more about the... being literate there, but at this point in my life I’m writing-fluent in New Krytan, old charr pathfinding symbols, ancient orrian... in the process of learning a couple others, too. Can’t hurt.”

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

Snort “I’m not allowed to die. I mean- burn me, what else am I supposed to take away from the fact that I died- actually went-to-the-mists died, and got told by the messenger of a human god that I, of all people, could go back? Had to, in fact? ...Burn me, I should probably be happy about that, but. Implication’s aren’t great there.”

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

“...That I’m... that there are people who’d miss me. Not- not miss the commander, but... I expected people would- mourn, write songs or whatever once I actually kicked the bucket, but it’s all a bit... hollow, when most of them don’t even know my name- and to some degree, that’s purposeful. They can- they can mourn the role I filled, the stuff I did, that’s fine, that’s not going to destroy them, not going to hurt for more than a... week, maybe. And everyone else- even the closest people- burn me I’m supposed to be dead. Not only was I, but there’s no- there’s no logical reason I’ve survived all this. Gods and Elder dragons have wanted me dead- entire factions, powerful people- I’m not allowed to die by- by fate, or whatever, but nothing else in Tyria wants me here, so I- you expect people to expect it, at least. To be prepared for it. I want them to be, for their own sake, but...” long sigh “...I... tried to get my warband to leave. Now that they knew... where I’ve been. What I’ve been doing, and... it really shouldn’t have been such a shock that they were worried about me. That... that they, and... everyone who knows how bad it’s gotten wants me to get... better. That I even have that option.”

Do you have mental health or physical issues?

quiet “...I don’t think any of us came out of this unscathed.”

What is your current main goal?

“...I think... I think I will just- just focus on getting better, now. I- burn me, it’s going to give me anxiety like nothing else to leave this to anyone, but I’ve- ...guess this is the first I’ll say it outside of closed circles, but I... I think I’m giving up the title of commander. I don’t think- that’s not going to mean I’m not around, I’m... probably not even leaving Dragon’s Watch, but... it’s time to hang the regalia up, at least. Leave the final say to someone else.” Laugh “Definitely not gonna miss the politics. May I never have to see Phlunt’s face again.”

CHOICES

Drink or food?

“...Oh, the hard questions are over now? Er- sort of? ...I mean, you need both to... live, so... Hm. I mean- I’ve had some really good food, Dragon’s Watch has one of the best chefs, but- if you’ve ever had an entire jug of water past the height of the moon, you know exactly my dilemma here.

Cats or dogs?

“This is what we call a ‘false dichotomy’. Both. Duh.”

Early bird or night owl?

“...I, uh. I’m not sure I’ve had a steady sleep schedule, for... five? Years? I guess if you do want to wake me up without either food or news of immediate disaster that needs fixing, I might consider physical harm, so... whichever one that is.”

Optimist or pessimist?

“That depends. On the subject of how good today’s food will be? Optimist. On Phlunt ever caring for anything other than his own pride and wellbeing? Pessimist.”

Sassy or sarcastic?

“...There’s a difference? Everyone I’ve met has both or neither.”

HAVE YOU EVER-

-been caught sneaking out?

“Nope. I was raised Ash, and I was good at it.”

-broke a bone?

“...I... I don’t think I have, actually. Probably got just about every other possible injury, but... not that yet.”

-received flowers?

“...I, uh. Eheh... The, uhm. The first time my, uh- now-wife sent me flowers, I... didn’t know what they were for? And sort of. Ate them.” pause “...They were... definitely not meant to be eaten. They were anonymous- she told me about it later- so I thought someone was trying to poison me until a close friend explained what getting flowers meant.” pause “...Burn me, I have no idea how long she was trying to flirt with me until I managed to catch on.”

-ghosted someone?

“...Have I mentioned the time I burned to death?”

-pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“...Wait, that’s- that’s a thing? I could have been telling terrible, incomprehensible jokes this whole time and I have no way to even know?! I- ...no, I haven’t, I guess. I just sort of... sit there confused...”

“...That’s the last one? Really? Sort of an awkward way to end it. Well, uh... remember the release protocol we agreed upon. Whole buncha people are gonna be upset if you don’t- most of which know how to hide bodies. Not... not sure why I know so many of that type of people, to be honest with you.”

#zori sunblade #oc interview #icebrood saga spoilers #path of fire spoilers #yes i did do the math on those years. yes i am making this cannon.#yes zori is 28 years old as the current story stands #there's a good reason most of the charr she knows think of her as a cub

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sunnywritesstuff34 · 3 years

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Working

hello! It is time for more Boruto AU, with Sasuke this time! @ghostjellyfishheart was excited for this, so enjoy lmao. I apologize in advance for this. Just. Disregard the choppy transitions. Tune in next whenever for Boruto being incredibly confused by Sasuke and trying to figure out how to adjust to living in his house. It’s incredibly awkward. Can’t wait.

(TW and CW for: unconsciousness, coma, critical injuries, tired Sasuke Uchiha, angry Boruto, probably ooc Kakashi and like six other ooc people, death, parental death, possible parental death, cursing, the Uchiha Massacre, one night stands, Sasuke is trying very hard okay he’s doing his best, both of them are good dads because I wanted them to be okay?)

Sasuke Uchiha was angry. No, scratch that, he wasn't angry, he was pissed. He was furious. He was beyond angry, he had reached the peak of anger and transcended to another plane, and that was something he didn't even think possible. For starters, it's not like his day was going well to begin with. Kakashi had stuck him with way too much to do, endless goddamn paper work. Apparently sharingan was mostly for battle, because it really didn't do shit when it came to focusing. And it's not like his paperwork wasn't important, it was. He had to review a series of reports from high profile shinobi on their teams and the work of their teammates, so and so and so and so, it was always something.

In all honesty, he had signed up for this. Well, okay, he didn't sign up for it, but he agreed to it. After Naruto’s disappearance Sasuke was just about ready to throw himself into as many dangerous situations as far from Konoha as possible, but no. He didn't know whose idea it was, maybe Tsunade’s, maybe Sakura’s, maybe Kakashi came up with it all on his own, whatever. Now he was working as Kakashi’s right hand man (and shadow in a lot of ways) and, in his own word’s, the Hokage’s “Don't Be Stupid And Callous And Hurt People For The Greater Good Because It Really Didn't Go Well Last Time” reminder. He really was doing good work, he caught multiple oversights and made sure to hold Kakashi to his word about the decline of execution, especially for missing-nin. He nearly punched Ibiki in the nose about sixteen times for being ridiculous, but what the hell did he expect? Changing things on a fundamental level and rebuilding at the same time were hard, it was pretty tempting to fall back on old methods. It was largely Sasuke’s job to prevent that from happening, and he was really good at doing it without murdering anyone, surprisingly (though he came close a couple of times.) The destruction of the Foundation was extensive and incredibly difficult, and it was surprising to pretty much everybody except for Sasuke just how deeply corrupted the village was. They were also changing up Anbu, though that was still an ongoing process. Sai helped quite a bit in the destruction of the Foundation, and helped develop some sort of rehabilitation for people indoctrinated into it like him. He was very passionate about it, something that Sasuke totally understood. It was personal.

All things considered, there were two reasons that Sasuke didn't cut and run as soon as Naruto wasn't around to keep him anchored any more. The opportunity for bettering Konoha and the shinobi world as a whole and… well… Sarada. Sasuke and Sakura had Sarada around the same time that Naruto had Boruto with Hinata (say that ten times fast) albeit in a less… graceful manner. Naruto and Hinata had a child after getting married due to mutual affection, and Sasuke and Sakura had a child because of… well, a one night stand.

In hindsight, though it hadn't worked out with Sakura, he was grateful to have Sarada. She was a sort of anchor that kept him from running yet again, especially seeing as Sakura was busy running the hospital/teaching the next generation of medical nin/finding new techniques for medical advancement and health/going on a mission every once in a while. She was also, you know, his daugther, and he loved her. Sakura’s parents had a fit when they found out, and they had an even bigger fit when they realized that the two of them weren't getting married any time soon. If Sakura had decided that a marriage was best, Sasuke likely would have gone along with that. What else was he supposed to do? It wouldn't be fair to her, especially in the eyes of traditional families and clans. Sakura, of course, was having none of that, and Sasuke was incredibly relieved. Sasuke had raised his daughter for the most part, and he loved her more than anything, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that Sasuke Uchiha wasn't necessarily the image of “perfect father.” At first, he thought of Sarada as an ambiguously important responsibility, as cold as that sounded. But then she was born, and she had legs and arms and a brain and feelings, so of course he became attached. Actually, she was sixteen at that point, and she had become an excellent kunoichi. In fact, she was taking the jounin exams soon, which Ashina might be too if Naruto had stayed. Speaking of Naruto…

Sasuke had no idea why he was surprised. It seemed that no matter where Naruto was or how many years it had been since they'd seen each other, he would always, always be a pain in the ass. That would never change. Of course Naruto would show up with his children in the Forest of Death. Of course he would do it while Sasuke was swamped with work and trying to help his daughter prepare for the exams. Of course, of course, of course. Not that he was complaining (he was), at least not in the long run. It was better that Naruto come back eventually, but twelve entire years? That was a long time. A very long time, with no explanation. Just to show how thoroughly Sasuke was swamped, he heard the news in the middle of an incredibly important meeting with the daimyo and Kakashi. That didn't stop him from rushing to the hospital anyway, but it was inconvenient. Whatever, Kakashi (the damn slacker) would probably survive without him. Ino arrived distressed and covered in blood, only to deliver the message of a lifetime. Kakashi pretended not to care, especially since he was in the middle of a meeting and Naruto was technically a missing-nin. But he did care, obviously, he was just very good at compartmentalizing. Sasuke was too, but Naruto and Sarada seemed to be the only exceptions to this rule. So, he took off without explanation and rushed like hell to the hospital, because Ino said that Naruto had been in critical condition. The idiot always managed to get hurt somehow, but if he died before Sasuke got to chew him out for vanishing, he would resurrect the bastard so he could pound him into the dirt. Or hug him and never let go. It was a toss up, either one. Sasuke’s chakra was flashing dangerously, and it made everyone around him nervous, but at this point he could care less. The Uchiha opened the doors to the hospital and rushed to the front desk, but he was intercepted by an exhausted looking Ino.

“Where is he?” Sasuke blurted, and she glared at him momentarily.

“I'll tell you where, but it's not that simple Sasuke, you can't just rush in there-”

“Tell me where he is,” Sasuke growled.

“Sasuke-”

“Ino why can't you just-”

“Sasuke Uchiha!” she shouted in a way that sounded suspiciously like the few memories he had of his mother. He blinked. “Would you listen to someone for once in your entire goddamn life? God, you're just as frustrating as Sakura said you were. Naruto is stable for now, but he’s in comatose. Hopefully he’ll survive. But his kids are sitting in the room with him, and if you storm in there all furious, you'll scare the shit out of them. If you have to go in there, do it slowly and calmly. And Shikamaru says they go by Boruto and Himawari, not Ashina and Natsu. They must have changed their names at some point. Either way, you need to calm down.” Sasuke paused, because (damn her) Ino was right. He had to calm down. He was pretty threatening on his own, but to these kids, who were already worried about their father? He collected himself briefly as Ino sighed. “He’s asleep in room 306. Please be careful.”

“Thanks, Ino,” he managed before practically launching himself past her. Just before he turned down the hall, he paused. “And Ino,” he called over his shoulder. “If Neji comes by… tell him to go to hell.” With that he was off. The room wasn't hard to find, and he threw the door open. It was a private room, no other beds except the one where Naruto lay. He sucked in a breath when he saw him, because it had been so long and frankly the man looked terrible. His breathing was shallow and he was way too pale, but he was alive. God, he was alive, at least he was alive. Sasuke could hardly believe it. Naruto was alive, and he was here. He was so caught up in his own head that he didn't notice the two children sitting by the door until he turned around to face them. He froze in place as an awkward silence settled, and the first thing he could think was oh my god, he looks just like him. Ashina- no, Boruto, looked just like Naruto used to, he was nearly identical except for Boruto’s eyes being a slightly lighter shade of blue. There was a girl sitting next to him that looked alarmingly like Hinata, and she was watching him with more curiosity than defensive aggression like her brother.

“And who the hell are you?” Boruto demanded. Sasuke blinked.

“I um. I am an old friend of Naruto’s. I- I had to see him. My name’s Sasuke Uchiha.”

“Boruto- Boruto Namikaze,” the kid explained begrudgingly. Sasuke sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, a few away from Boruto and Himawari so that Boruto could watch him from a safe distance. He’d picked up a thing or two about skittish children in his time, and he figured the best course of action was to remain passive until Boruto let down his guard. Like an unruly cat that hisses whenever you get too close to it.

“What… what happened?” Sasuke asked, trying to start a conversation in a totally subtle way. Boruto winced and hesitated, almost looking… guilty.

“We got ambushed. That's all. He tried to keep us safe and it didn't… It's complicated.”

“Ah,” Sasuke muttered. “Right. Naruto is my friend, I've known him since we were kids. He’s always one for reckless endeavors.”

“Sometimes,” Boruto conceded. “I guess. He’ll… he’ll be okay. He has to be.”

“He will,” Sasuke assured him before he could stop himself. “He’s strong. Sakura Haruno is one of our top medical nin, she's not here right now, but she should be back from her mission soon, and she especially will be when she knows that Naruto is here. He's very important to us.” Boruto glanced over at him, tearing his eyes from his father.

“How did you know him?” he asked tentatively. Sasuke smiled without realizing it.

“He's my best friend. We went to the academy together, we fought in the Fourth Shinobi War. He was always there. He’s important to all of us, before he… before he left.” Boruto looked away nervously.

“Right,” he muttered. “Of course, that makes… that makes so much sense. I mean, I always wondered how he learned ninjutsu, I guess- I guess it makes sense for him to be from a Hidden Village. I just never…” Sasuke stared at him for a moment.

“He never told you?” Boruto shook his head and traded a glance with Himawari.

“No. He never talked about anything from before we were born. I never asked because it just… made him sad, I guess. I didn't like making him think about it.” Sasuke nodded numbly. Did he regret it, he wondered silently. Did he regret leaving? Did he ever think about coming back? The door opened just then and Boruto tensed again, whipping his head to the door. Kakashi stood in the doorway with Sai behind him.

“Hello. It seems Sasuke made it here first.” Boruto eyed him warily, moving closer to his sister. Kakashi took one look at the bed and then looked away, trying to not think about it for the time being. He turned his attention to Boruto instead.

“Well Boruto Namikaze, it looks like we have a lot to talk about. But it's been a long day for you two, and I think we’d best keep the hard conversations for tomorrow, hm?” Boruto must have read that as a threat because he bristled at the words, and Sasuke silently wondered how, despite years and years and years of experience, Kakashi never got any better at learning how to speak to children. Sai watched pensively, like an owl, tilting his head. Sasuke could understand Boruto’s nerves, especially considering the company he was in. Sasuke silently cursed Sakura for leaving at the worst time possible, but he knew it wasn't her fault.

“You should try and get some sleep tonight, we’ll probably have more information on Naruto’s condition in the morning. Don't worry, Sasuke’s house is comfortable.” Sasuke shot to his feet.

“What?” he demanded. Kakashi looked at him lazily.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I think it'd be best for the two of them to stay with you for the time being. You have a child of your own, and lord knows I wouldn't trust anybody else to do it. Sorry Sasuke, I promise i'll pay you overtime. I can have somebody else handle your paperwork for a few weeks.” Sasuke blinked as the children looked between the man and his teacher. Finally, the Uchiha gritted his teeth.

“Of course, Hokage-sama,” he growled. “It would be an honor.” Kakashi nodded.

“See? It's not that complicated. I have business to attend to, I'll have a conversation with you tomorrow, Sasuke.” With that he was gone, and Sasuke found himself alone with two children. Two. he had his hands full with one, and now he would have to take care of three. And they were Naruto’s children, lord only knows what they would get up to.

“Um,” Sasuke started. “I… I suppose… we should go… home.” Boruto hesitated before standing, tossing one glance over his shoulder at his father before walking out the door. Please wake up soon, Naruto Sasuke thought silently. But there were a few things Sasuke didn't realize at the time, and wouldn't for weeks. Naruto wouldn't be waking up, at least, not at first.

Kyuubi would.

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

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Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 7:

The King In Yellow

Walter’s really putting his all into that whistling.

Kerry ended up losing Walter eventually. But I guess she was chased out of her hiding place by the zombies.

Theory: Much like how David feels most stable and confident when Syd’s around, Kerry feels most stable and confident when Cary’s around. She’s much less likely to lose a fight or get scared if Cary is in the vicinity. This would also explain why she feels so betrayed that Cary left her in Mental Clockworks. She works best when he’s around (power of love and all that) so when he’s not around she constantly feels like she’s on the ropes. Maybe only subconsciously though.

Lenny says “Hey” a lot.

So Farouk... actually seems distressed here. This is him at his least chill. He’s just shoved a person he actually cares about into a corner of their mind cause he just couldn’t understand them, the dream he’s created is collapsing and he has no plan on how to deal with it (rare for Farouk), and the location of his own body (his temple) is still lost to him after all this time.

Also, there’s apparently no specific place it could be. Farouk’s body could be anywhere on the globe. I guess he and everyone who knows about is aware that he could come back to his body if he knows where it is?

Even though it’s pointed out a lot I’ll also note that Charles is in his wheelchair in Amy’s flashback. And given future/past events (confusing, I know) this either means Farouk is the one who put him in a wheelchair, or whatever caused it happened between defeating Farouk and giving away baby David. And there’s... really not a lot of time in between those 2 events.

As we’ve seen before, while Farouk can probably see into Oliver’s ice cube residents, he can’t actually go inside or do anything to Oliver (or his guest) while he’s in there.

Farouk doesn’t want the dream to end until he’s located his body.

Cary is used to finishing Oliver’s sentences.

Cary and Oliver think very alike. The biggest difference between them I suppose is Oliver’s reality bending powers.

David never agreed to the barbershop quartet but Oliver put his name down anyways.

I never caught this before, but the thing that makes it obvious to Cary is the fact that the parasite called itself “King”. Before when watching this I thought “it’s just a name,” but I guess the point is... what other villain would be so hubris filled as to advertise who they are so openly. It speaks to the brazenness of Farouk. If Charles had ever checked back and found out David was talking to some invisible friend named “King” Farouk woulda been discovered then and there. I can only assume this means the name “King” was taunt of sorts. A joke only Farouk was in on. Not to mention, Farouk probably would never have settled for a name any less dignifying.

Oliver doesn’t remember any of his past friends, but he does remember Farouk. I wonder, did him and Cary hear about Farouk before or after Charles defeated him? Farouk hasn’t been publicly doing things for 30 years, and the only event that could reasonably be linked to him is Meiser Sunday. If they knew about him before Charles defeated him then that would just speak to his prolificness as a villain, I guess. “The Shadow King”, an unstoppable force for years until a random prodigy mutant gets him on his first try... or so they thought. I believe that’s how it happened in the comics too.

I’ll also note, Charles is an important figure in the mutant community, but it shouldn’t be discounted that the mutant community still existed and had a whole rich history before Charles even stepped on the scene. It seems like either Xaviers School doesn’t exist in this timeline, or they just don’t know about it. And given that, Summerland seemingly founded itself off the same general ideas of the Xavier School, but completely independently. Like 2 people coming up with the same idea on different sides of the planet.

Farouk’s weakness as Oliver puts it is, “He puts all of his energy into tricking David. Didn’t think to watch his six.” I wonder... is this a consistent weakness of Farouk’s? Could this be what Oliver means when he says he found his weakness in s2?

Oliver admits Farouk is too powerful for him. It’s not like he’s one to have a power complex, but it is interesting how shameless he is about it. He doesn’t really philosophize about that kind of thing, he’s matter of fact about it. Farouk’s got more measurable power than me, we need to find another way around him. He also notes though that *David* could defeat Farouk if need be. Everyone recognizes David as the top of the food chain.

Small note: I guess this is how it works between omega lvls. Always thinking of ways around each others raw abilities. Farouk knows David is too strong for him in s2, so he finds away around it. David knows he might not be able to hold out against Farouk’s built up experience, so he finds away around it. Brains over brawn every time, it would seem.

Cary feels really really bad for David. Seeing him screaming his brains out in a locked box knowing full well how much David hates small space. It’s very sweet. But also, 2 episodes Cary seemed a bit more standoffish about David. Knowing what he knows now recontextualized all those past events. David is a victim of something incomprehensibly terrible. He sees that now.

My boi Dan’s gonna need a lozenge after this one.

“We’re gonna need everybody.” They never get Ptonomy :/

I didn’t pick up on any of the other times, but Syd’s job here is to be a distraction. Sure, she has to protect the others in the process, but freeing them from the dream is the job of Cary, Oliver, and Melanie.

Still though, David is the victim who needs help here. He’s not the hero who saves them, he’s the one in need of saving. And Syd takes charge in the plan to do so and is tasked with protecting the others, making her once again closer to the hero archetype than David is. In the moment at least.

Syd’s talking fast cause they don’t exactly have all the time in the world here.

The zombies vanish but the architecture remains. There are “degrees” of real in the astral plane.

“Just thought it’d be interesting.” She’s over the whole “jumpscare haunted house” thing by now.

Silly me, the Melanie scene took place after Cary went to gather people. So it’s definitely Cary in the suit.

Melanie’s glad to see he’s back but she’s not completely love struck. Probably both cause he doesn’t remember her, and cause lovestruck Melanie was a result of her mind being altered to fit the delusion. Cary is guiding them out of the delusion so she’s back to her old self basically. Rational, and concerned with the mission.

This isn’t important, I just like how Melanie wakes him up here. It’s sweet, and bitter, cause it’s too late for him anyways.

Why does Farouk simulate this whole process for Rudy? What’s the use in tricking him if he already can barely do anything? We know Rudy gets him eventually, but it’s just surprising that Farouk recognizes him as being a potential threat.

Cary neglected to inform Syd who else he was personally waking.

Is Walter seeing the zombies too? Unclear. But he’s less chill about his tormenting now.

David starts using humor to cope. From what we’ve seen he’s been non-stop screaming for a while. It seems like he stops panicking as much specifically because his mind is fracturing to help him cope.

His first alter (that we see). Rational Mind.

RM says the coffin is just an “idea.” Very specific word choice there.

Rm tells him to forget all the “lies” he learned in memory work and the MRI. That was all Summerland stuff, though. “It’s your mind.” Essentially, trust yourself. You know who you are, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. Not even your new friends. Very reminiscent of, “You decide what is real and what is not.”

David doesn’t want to call his adoptive parents his parents anymore.

David’s happy to finally contextualize Farouk as a mutant and not a mental illness. It all starts making since to him, his whole life.

RM’s the first one to say “boohoo,” and it’s in response to David’s sadness over his bio-parents giving him away.

“I am pretty, I am loved.” “Good, keep going.” This mindset David’s falling into is specifically encouraged by his alters. In fact, it’s RM that pushes him down this path in the first place. David (non-Shadow King possessed David) has been avoiding this thought all season.

David’s a bit wrong here, and I think the difference tells us something important. David assumes Farouk possessed him after he was already living in the Haller’s house. But, we know it seemingly happened before Charles even got back from Morocco. So, given that Gabrielle’s mental health was already bad from post-partum depression (alternatively, it’s just the depression she already had) and Charles leaving her alone to go to Morocco, Farouk coming in and haunting the house probably sent things over the edge. David was most likely given away because Gabrielle wasn’t well enough to care for him like he needed, and Charles... 🤷🏾‍♀️ tbh. Might just’ve not wanted to raise David without Gabrielle. They both said they didn’t ant him to turn out like them. In s3 it’s made to seem like the house haunting was a combination of David and Farouk. David’s haunting time travelly presence probably made things worse, but Farouk would’ve gotten to the baby much sooner if not for him, and without David in the way Farouk probably would’ve upped his own intentional torments. The goal was revenge after all.

David assumes Farouk’s goal is revenge upon the whole world. Makes sense since that’s what Farouk’d been encouraging David to all season. And what he’ll continue to encourage him towards throughout s2 & 3.

Syd “woke him up.” She makes him more stable and sane. She grounds him in reality.

“I was sick, but I’m not sick anymore.” A moment of quiet deliberation with his alter and then he awakens with newfound confidence and a plan. This will repeat in a very tragic way later on.

Kerry, Syd, and a damaged comrade in a wheelchair. If I had nickel for every time this happens I’d have 2 nickels. Very weird it happens twice. Unless... mental clockworks and the end of s3 are supposed to parallel each other.

I assume the astral-plane diving suit protects whoever’s wearing it from psychic threats, much like the ice cube. At the moment, no one’s wearing it.

Sometimes psychics powers require a bit of miming to manifest. Oliver can’t just wave his hand and make a shield, not a strong enough one at least. Similarly, Farouk can’t just expand his mind into the future, he needs to go through a whole time machine building process in the astral plane.

Cary and Melanie seeing Walter get killed must hit hard for them considering he used to be a student of theirs. Sure, he turned against them, but still...

They juxtapose Walter dying with Rudy fully waking up. I wonder if that means it was his powers that were keeping Rudy docile and not necessarily the stab wound.

David is the one that wakes them all up, destroys the dream, and puts them back in their real bodies. And just in time for Cary to place the halo on his head. This is I think the first time David does a real act of super-heroism. The only potential one previously is saving Amy and he wasn’t really the one in control there. This is his first win against Farouk.

David’s not only got control of his powers, but control of himself for the first time, too. And it’s to the point where he’s perceiving things at lightning speeds and moving fast enough to catch bullets. Along with whatever power he’s using to halt the bullets momentum too. For now at least, this is our hero.

They play sinister music whenever he does the bright white light teleport. He does it again at the end of s2. Is it a specific kind of teleport, or is he just adding flair?

David didn’t teleport them directly to the base.

Kerry sadly looks at Rudy’s body.

Melanie looked around for Oliver but in doing so missed him meeting up with the others.

Everyone’s relaxing after their long fought for victory. David and Syd seem really happy. They find Oliver funny/charming.

When Cary’s talking to Kerry, in the background I can barely make out everyone else talking about potatoes.

David’s fine with Amy apologizing, just not in front of the others.

Instead of “The Poor Woodcutter and His Wife” Oliver calls it the “The story of The Lady and the Crane.”

Farouk doesn’t like small spaces either. Ha.

#legion fx

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years

Text

To Hell and Back

Chapter 8

Summary: The evils hermits take their chance to dethrone Hels a bit earlier than expected. NPC Grian gets a little stabby stabby with Hels and it lands him injured in the overworld. Hugs and cuddles ensue.

Characters: Helsknight, BadtimesWithScar, NPC Grian, Evil Xisuma, Xisuma, and Welsknight

TW: Blood mention, unconsciousness, mentions of dying, it’s a bit angsty this time lol

Long chapter incoming! (I’m on mobile so I can’t to the read more thing ;v;)

——————

Steadily, as the days went by, more minor attempts at taking the throne were made by other people. Some caught the main hall on fire, others exploded the stables, and some even sent hit men to take out Hels altogether. Still, he stood his ground and each day inevitably brought more and more death threats.

He wondered why they wanted to kill him in general. Technically, if he read the rules correctly, there was no need to kill the Champion in order to take the throne. They mostly just had to be scared enough to step off of it and admit some kind of defeat. Which he could certainly do but Hels wasn’t exactly a fan of being seen as a coward for retreating rather than fighting.

Around Thursday, one of the other evil hermits came to dethrone him themselves. It was BadTimesWithScar, dressed head to toe in netherite armor. He appeared near the doors of the throne room where Hels was sat.

“Didn’t take you much for the fighting type, BadTimes,” Hels commented. The other alter merely glared at him.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky. Step off or we’re doing this the hard way.”

“We haven’t already been doing it the hard way? Half the castle is blown to pieces.” Hels rolled his eyes. “Also I’m not stepping down, I’m no coward. I have guards lining the sides of the room, you’re awfully outnumbered.”

BadTimes surveyed the room and Hels was right. Each guard stared him down like prey. He chuckled. “Oh, I’m not.”

Hels raised a brow. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” He stood from his throne. “Are you dense? There’s a hundred times the amount of people here than you.”

BadTimes grinned. “I don’t need to do anything, I’m afraid. You might want to look behind you.”

Hels turned quickly and there stood another of the alters- NPC Grian. Guards aimed crossbows immediately but were too late to react when the NPC pulled out a dagger and before he could react, the blade was already through his stomach. The knight met the blank gaze of NPG, sending him a sour expression through the now searing pain.

Ah, I see what he meant, he thought.

Suddenly, everything began going silent. Hels could see the guards charging at the NPC and he assumed they did the same to BadTimes. Arrows were sent flying and people were presumably yelling.

Wordlessly, he looked down at the wound and brought a hand to it slowly. Deep red liquid oozed out of the gaps of his fingers. He stared at it, expressionless. Maybe a hint of surprise crossed his features but he hadn’t noticed when a few guards were calling his name and asking if he was alright.

Was this what shock felt like?

He knew he probably was fine. Maybe. Maybe he wasn’t and that was just his ego telling him that he could simply survive through anything. He stumbled a bit and looked around. His vision was slowly becoming darker around the edges and only then did he begin panicking.

The panic wasn’t hardly external. His breaths left in shallow exhales through his nose and his hand tightened around the dagger still stuck in his upper stomach. However, internally, he was asking around for help. You can’t really expect such a stoic and hateful person to really keep up their facade in the midst of dying. He didn’t want to die.

Without thinking, a portal opened in front of him and he shakily stepped through it. More of his vision became blotchy and a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over him. Hels fell to the ground on his knees and flashes lined everything in his field of sight. He grew tired. Maybe he could sleep off the final effects of this and start again as a cloud of black fog.

While he thought, a figure was soon in front of him and another figure at his side. By now he couldn’t really keep his eyes open and even if he could see past the red and pink blobs in his vision, he wouldn’t recognize them anyways. He felt more hands join him on the dagger and just before everything finally went to darkness, he was standing again, yet leaning on something else.

It only felt like a few seconds, maybe a minute at most. He assumed by now he’d see that weird light that everyone talked about during death. But there was nothing, just an endless void and his thoughts.

The Hermits had the luxury of respawning after they died. That was simply because they were from the overworld. Clones and entities from other dimensions didn’t respawn like ghasts and pigmen, for example. Hels was among these kinds of creatures.

Additionally, Ex was too, he assumed. The man said he was an entity strung together loosely in the lowest levels of the Void.

Faintly, he could hear voices in the distance of the darkness.

“Is....Cloning machine?”

“Yes….shouldn’t...here.”

“Look, I know he......Ex…...friend….” Slowly, the words began becoming more muddled. He tried to catch onto what was happening around him. He looked around for any signs of waking up and a small glowing orb appeared in front of him, startling him.

“Is this….” he stared at it quite sadly. At least nobody was there to mock him for it. He sighed. “Well, if it must happen.” He reached out and touched the orb, everything falling dark again.

What he didn’t expect was opening his eyes to a blank white ceiling and sounds of machinery. He inhaled and raised a hand to his throat.

Still alive, he assumed.

He then looked at his hand, a small clamp around his finger. He made a confused expression and took more time to adjust his eyes to the room he was in. Around him were pale beige walls and a singular painting on the wall opposite of him of a cat. He looked to his left where a couple different devices were sat. They didn’t hardly look familiar to him so he didn’t know what they were. All he knew was that they were connected to him via various tubes and needles.

He exhaled and leaned back farther into the pillows behind him. This must be some kind of clinic. It looked a bit similar to the one they used in Hels. A rarity, but they had them.

He scanned around a bit more, looking to his right. Windows were set up on this wall and a wooden door indicated at least some kind of exit. With a closer look, he saw Wels outside talking to a man who looked eerily like Ex. If he knew his mobs correctly, the suit resembled that of a Strider. Perhaps that was Xisuma from what Ex had told him about the admin.

The door was slightly ajar and he could make out more of their conversation.

“He’s special to Ex. They’re finally getting along and you want to get rid of him?”

The voice sounded so odd compared to Evil Xisuma. The accent he usually heard through a deep and robotic filter sounded too high pitched for what he was used to listening to.

“All I said was that he should stay in Hels.”

“Hels is why he looks like this!”

“He’s their champion or whatever! I’m sure he can just come back and kill whoever did it. He likes to brag about it, you know.”

“Wels, he was near death. He couldn’t have come back even if he planned to. He doesn’t respawn like we do.”

Of course Wels wanted to throw him back to the hounds. He wasn’t surprised by that. He did threaten to destroy the server and threw him in a hole with their last encounter. Though what he didn’t expect was Xisuma’s defense. He wanted Hels to stay in the overworld to avoid what had happened prior to now. Hels also wondered if this had to do with Ex’s odd need for their friendship.

Wels finally gave in reluctantly. “Well if he stays, he stays away from me and my cows. Poor things were terrified of him,” he grumbled.

Xisuma could help but to snort at the request. “Can do, I believe he should be conscious now. I’ll be off.” With that, Wels walked off and Xisuma huffed.

“I know you heard what he said, Hels.” Hels perked up a bit at the comment while Xisuma entered the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. You’re Xisuma, I presume?”

“I’ll take it.” He clapped his hands together. “And the one and only. So! What happened? If you’d like to talk about it of course.” Despite his statement, Xisuma seemed to wait patiently for an answer. Hels looked away from him as if he were ashamed to admit defeat.

“They wanted to dethrone me.”

“Oh?”

Hels looked back at Xisuma who tilted his head to the side curiously. “Uh, yeah. I’m not exactly well liked around there. We’re competitive.”

Xisuma nodded. “From what Wels and Ex tell me, I assumed so.”

Hels sat up a bit. “Ex talks about me?”

Xisuma chuckled at how the knight hardly questioned what his clone may have said. “All the time! He keeps asking me about ways to become your friend. How’s that working out, anyways? He can be a bit pushy.”

Hels thought for a second, a small blush spreading over his cheeks. “It’s…going well. He’s covered my room in flowers because I um...I kept a few previous ones.” He scratched at his neck sheepishly.

Xisuma lit up. “How sweet! He likes getting others into his fixations. I’ve heard you two have a meet up in the garden tomorrow.” Through the helmet screen, Hels could faintly see Xisuma’s eyebrows raising repeatedly and eyes that Hels knew were paired often with a smug smirk.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we do I suppose. I thought the weekend would’ve already passed. I don’t know if I’m in good shape to do a lot of work though.”

Xisuma nodded. “Well, the damage was fairly minimal. Just a flesh wound, nothing some regeneration and health potions can’t fix. I think it just comes down to how well you can handle pain. You’ll be sore for a while.”

Hels snorted. “I’m used to it.”

“Good, good. Well, if you’d like, I can go retrieve Ex. He’s been dying to see if you were….well, dying. But I think he’ll be quite excited for the news!”

“Sure,” Hels replied with a lopsided grin.

Then Xisuma left the room. Before Hels could completely nestle back into the pillows, Ex ran in with excitement. He bounced happily at the sight of Hels.

“You’re alive! Xisuma said not to hug you because you might be uncomfortable with that and I might damage something but at least you’re here!”

Hels rolled his eyes for the second time and sat up, putting his arms out to ask for a hug. “Bring it in, nerd.”

Almost too excitedly, Ex pulled him into a spine crushing hug which Hels happily reciprocated. He thought for a second they were hugging a little longer than he expected but he paid no mind to it. When Ex pulled away, Hels winced at the aching sensation in his abdomen.

“Oops, sorry about that.”

Hels waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, I’ve had worse. Also a little strider told me that you like to talk about me. I hope you’re not talking shit,” he replied jokingly. He didn’t notice how Ex flushed a little bit.

Ex rubbed at his neck. “Oh yeah, I do. And flowers, I talk about flowers a lot. Oh! Will you be alright to do the gardening tomorrow?”

Hels flopped back onto the pillows. “Yeah, I think I will be. I mean I’ve got nowhere else to be for the next thousand years.”

Ex raised a brow. “You can’t go back to Hels?”

“No, if I do, I’ll be killed. That’s kinda why I’m here like this now.”

Ex seemed genuinely surprised at the information. “Huh...Well, at least you’re with me! I can show you around!”

Hels’s gaze softened just a smidge. “Yeah, at least I’m with you.” He yawned. “Jeez, didn’t think I’d be so tired already. What was that? A few minutes of being awake?”

“Yeah, Xisuma said you probably will be asleep again soon so I had to be quick with the conversation. Something about some kinda medication he gave you. I’ll leave you to nap then?”

Hels chuckled tiredly, another yawn rolling past his lips. “I mean...you can stay, I’ll just be asleep for a little while. Shit, you can lay with me. I don’t care.” He yawned again. “Just...don’t kick me…” Slowly, his half lidded eyes closed and he drifted off to a sound sleep.

Ex couldn’t help but to stare. While this was the second time he’d seen Hels sleeping, the first time was in the dark so he couldn’t see the normally sharp features soften so much. He smiled faintly and looked around out in the halls. Nobody was there so he could take the opportunity to lay with Hels. This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity, he thought.

He also wondered if Hels even knew what he said before he fell asleep either, but that thought was quickly shoved to the back of his mind with new excitement.

He removed his outer armor and his boots, detaching his helmet from the main device over his nose and mouth and discarded it onto one of the chairs in the corner. Happily, he got into the bed with Hels, being careful not to tug any cords, and couldn’t help but to awe when the hellish knight nudged his own body into him peacefully.

This was normal right? Xisuma may not do this with his friends though, Ex wondered. Maybe it’s a private thing, he’ll have to ask X about it later.

#to hell and back #helsknight #evil xisuma #helsknight x evil xisuma #hels x ex #hermitcraft #long post

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Part Forty-Seven

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

After scrubbing his face a few times, Cyrus pushed himself up into a seated position. “You want me to what?” Cyrus asked. “You’re kidding, right?”

Cameron stared at him blankly. “Why would I do something like that? I have better things to do with my time.”

Cyrus let out a small sigh, bracing one arm across his knee. “Who do you want me to bring back?” He finally said. “And why risk it? We still don’t know what that spell did to Lev.”

This time Cameron hesitated, ever so slightly. “A spirit Lev has been seeing.”

Cyrus blinked slowly. “Just a random spirit,” he replied dubiously.

“Will you help or not?”

Cyrus hesitated. “I want to talk to the spirit first,” he said. “Before I agree to anything.”

“Alright.” Cameron said simply. “Whatever you need.”

Cyrus nodded, and started pushing himself upright. “Okay,” he said, sighing softly. “I’ll see what I can do.” After standing, he rubbed his face. “Give me a moment to get something to eat.”

“Can you even walk?” Cameron asked, raising a brow.

“In theory,” Cyrus muttered. He didn’t fall over while he made his way to the kitchen, so he considered that a success. Sorin was at his side in a heartbeat. Rather than wave him off, Cyrus let himself be herded to the table. “Do you want anything?” he asked Cameron, as Sorin poured him a mug of coffee. Decaf, as usual.

“That’s not necessary,” Cameron replied.

“Hm.” Cyrus looked him over, before adding, “I didn’t ask if you needed anything.” He waved Cameron off, however. He wasn’t going to get more than a blank stare and he knew it.

Sorin was quiet, but he wouldn’t let Cyrus get up again until Cyrus had eaten more than his fill of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Come along,” Cyrus eventually said, moving past Cameron, who had been standing there almost awkwardly. Cyrus settled slowly on the floor of his study. Sorin set up the candles for him while Cyrus looked at Cameron. “Do I have any direction when it comes to summoning this ghost or am I flying blind? It’ll take me longer, but-” Cyrus didn’t want to explain just how low he was on magic.

“What kind of direction are you looking for?”

Cyrus rubbed his face. “A name?” He said. “I should have clarified. I have no idea who I’m looking for.”

Cameron looked very tired, but Cyrus was tired too. “Darius,” Cameron finally said. “His name is Darius.”

“Okay,” Cyrus said. He blinked at the ground for a few moments. “I’m going to need help,” he finally said. He reached out, intending to take Sorin’s hand, but when he realized Cameron had taken it instead, he didn’t comment.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. There was a slender man standing there. His long black hair was swept to the side, and his bright gold eyes, contrasting starkly with his brown skin, were startlingly similar to Lev’s. Cyrus looked at Cameron for just a moment, before looking to Darius again.

“Hello,” Cyrus said quietly. “I assume you’re Darius?”

The ghost didn’t even look in Cyrus’ direction. Instead he stared at Cameron. “You really should eat more,” the ghost said, sadness dripping from his tone. Eventually he flicked a look at Cyrus. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My name is Darius, yes. You must be Cyrus. It's nice to meet you.”

Cyrus managed a smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” Cyrus replied. “Cameron says you’re a spirit Lev met. Someone he’s asking for.”

“I have met Lev,” Darius confirmed.

Cyrus lifted an eyebrow.

“How can I help?”

Well, Darius was dodging... something. But Cyrus just nodded slowly. “Cameron wants to bring you back,” he said gently. “But I will not if you don’t want to.”

Darius looked back to Cameron. “Do you really?”

Cameron stared right back at Darius. He somehow looked younger and older at the same time; his eyes suspiciously bright. “Lev needs you,” he said, after nearly half a minute.

“That isn’t what I asked you, Cameron.” Darius said. “Do not lie to me.”

Claws poked at the meat of Cyrus’ hand. “I should not have killed you.”

“Again,” Darius said, patiently. “That is not what I asked.”

Cameron’s eyes closed and a tick worked through his jaw. “Yes,” he bit out. “I want you alive. Lev needs you and I should not have killed you. I will make sure you have everything you need and you will not have to see me again. But yes. I want you alive.”

Cyrus tried not to stare. This whole thing was a bit more than he’d expected. In the end he bit back a sigh, and said, “Darius, do you even want to come back? I won’t perform the spell without verbal consent from you, and only you.”

Even though he did not take his eyes off of Cameron Darius did not hesitate to say, “Yes.”

Cyrus nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best,” he said tiredly. After a moment, he added, “Do you two need some time?”

“No. We’re done,” Cameron said, reticently.

Cyrus blinked at Darius. “I might have questions for you later,” he said quietly, “But for now, I have to end the connection.”

Darius gave him a small smile. “Whatever you need.”

Cyrus broke the connection and let go of Cameron’s hand. He flexed his own, but didn’t really get a good look before Sorin took it and started looking it over. Cyrus put up with that patiently, and instead addressed Cameron.

“We’re going to need a good exchange, or Nature isn’t going to accept this resurrection.” Cyrus leaned into Sorin, who by this point had knelt on the floor beside him. “I’m going to need more time to recharge, as well. I was trying to do so naturally, but- I’ll find a way.”

“Take your time. I don’t need you to perform it wrong. He’s been dead for a lot longer than Lev was.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “Anything else?”

“What do you need from me?”

A good question. “Not that I can think of right now. I have a lot I need to figure out. The spell I used- It won’t work for Darius the same way.” Because that would require Cameron’s death, apparently, and Cyrus wasn’t going to say that. He was not going to take Cameron away from the omega he just brought back.

After nodding and reminding Cyrus he had Cameron’s number, he was gone.

“I don’t like him,” Sorin muttered.

“Most people don’t,” Cyrus sighed. “Help me to bed?”

---

It hadn’t taken Ash much to find where Amara’s new house was located. It was on the edge of the woods with a yard far larger than Ash would have expected. He took the rustic cabin home in on his way up the steps, only for the front door to swing open. Amara looked Ash up and down. “Hi,” she said, quietly. “We’re still unpacking. So.”

Ash nodded, more to himself than anything else, and folded his arms over his chest. “Do you want me to come some other time? If you’re too busy.”

Amara shook her head. “No. You came all the way out here and I need a break.”

“Alright,” Ash said. “Then let’s talk.”

“Come in,” she said. “And shut the door behind you.”

Ash did as instructed, and followed her voice back towards the living room where he planted himself on a couch. She sat somewhere near him.

“So Lev’s doing better,” he said, since she clearly wasn’t going to say anything. “I thought you’d want to know. His fever broke and he’s stable.”

“Good,” Amara said, relief coating her voice.

Ash picked at his nails. “You still wanting my help?”

“Yes please,” Amara said, quietly.

“You know I’m not going to just say yes,” Ash said. “And it’s nothing to do with you. But I do want to make sure you’re ready and not using a kid as a coping mechanism since your sister is now out of your house. Even if she did turn out pretty alright.”

“What do you want?” She asked, tiredly. “What do you want to know?”

“Well first,” he said, “I want to know if you’re going to do everything I ask without complaint. And second, I am going to need your medical history, Mar. All of it.”

“When it comes to my health, sure.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Ash asked, settling deep into the couch. “You’re going to do everything I ask?”

“Yes.”

Ash dug the list from his pocket and held it out in her direction. “Here.”

She was quiet while reading it over. “You want me to get a job?” she asked, incredulously.

“Something like that,” he said. “Thinking maybe a job as a barista or a sales clerk. I don’t know just yet.”

“I’d point out we’re not tight on money, though I think this is more of a humiliation tactic and not concern over my finances.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Ash said, “You make it sound like I’m not taking my job seriously.”

He could feel her stare at him for a solid minute. “I think you’re a petty bastard,” she finally said. “But you’re the best bastard at this sort of thing.”

Ash gave her a tight smile. “I want you at that job for five months, no fighting, no alcohol or drugs or whatever.” He held up a hand before she could argue with him. “I am aware you are clean at this current moment in time, but consider a minimum wage job dealing with idiotic customers your test.”

“I think dealing with a neurotic Cameron and you for the last four months would be test enough,” she muttered. “But fine.”

Ash snorted. “Get back to me when you want to gut four different Karens for even breathing.”

“I already agreed,” she said, tersely. “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“Mm. I think I do.” Ash said, thrumming his fingers along the back of the couch. “But back to my previous questions that you did not answer. Medical history. I need to know so I can decide what I’m dealing with.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a doctor, Ash.” she said, sounding confused. “I just heal. Eventually.”

Ash considered that.; thought on that. “Would you be willing to let me give you a full body physical back at my office in a few days? That way I can see everything for myself?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Ash said. “I want to help. And I’ll do my best to get you what you want. But I am going to wait for the next few months. I need to recharge and you need to as well. It’ll be safer for everyone.”

“I miscarried last week,” Amara said after a beat. Her voice was quiet, and unusually steady. “It’s not the first time. Honestly? Waiting is probably good for me.”

“Probably,” Ash agreed. “You really should be resting more, as well. Especially these last few days if you just miscarried,” he added pointedly. “I’m sure your boyfriend can afford a few movers while you recuperate.”

“I suppose letting movers get everything settled sure does free up my time for that job you want me to get,” she snipped, before going quiet. “Sorry,” she said, all frustration easing from her tone just as quickly. “Been a few years since I’ve been sober this long. And you’re annoying.”

Ash just lifted a brow. “Imagine being around you stone cold sober,” he said, dryly. “Besides. You’re not touching anything until after I give you that physical. Until then you are going to rest because there is a high probability that you’re going to be on bedrest for a good deal of your pregnancy and if you cannot handle a few days of not doing anything it’s going to be a lot harder for the both of us.”

Amara let out a sigh. “I can rest. I will rest. Doctors orders, right?”

“Yeah,” Ash said, “doctor’s orders.”

---

Lev had managed to get to the point Nik wasn’t swallowing panic like he had been for the last four days. He was eating, sleeping, a lil cooler but he was on the mend. And nik used that to wander around just a bit while Lev was napping.

He was itching to move, and to think and he couldn’t just drag Lev with him. He couldn’t help but feel like the sentries were watching his every move, like they just knew that Nik was keeping a secret for Cameron and was waiting for the opportunity to put him on a spike.

That didn’t stop him from wandering, though.

Nik found himself searching this house top to bottom, not really looking for anything, though he did get himself lost a few times. This house was far larger than Nik thought it was.

He decided to make his final destination the basement for some reason. It was far too enclosed, but he was apparently a glutton for punishment lately. Even with the sweat coating his skin he still descended the steps from the basement to the dungeon.

He pushed open the heavy door and flicked the lights on. He blinked in surprise at the thing writhing in the bolted chair in the middle of the room. “I- well. I cannot say I was expecting this.”

He wandered closer and yanked the demon’s greasy and dirty hair back so he was staring down into violet eyes. “Sage?” he asked, bewildered. “What the hell are you doing down here? Wait. Don’t tell me, you showed up late to work one time too many and Cameron’s been torturing you ever since.”

“Please,” he rasped, hoarsely. “Just kill me.”

“Hmm.” Nik looked down at his grimy fingers and frowned. “No, I don’t think I will. I’m sure whatever you did was worth however long Cam has kept you rotting down here. And I have no interest in getting on his bad side at this current moment in time. I’m afraid all my good graces with my very pale boyfriend are nonexistent.” Or at least they will be.

Sage’s head dropped back against the back of the chair in defeat. “Fine,” he swallowed. “Fine.”

“So what did you do?” Nik asked, circling the chair. “How long, exactly, have you been rotting away in here. See, I’ve been a little out of commission as of late, and apparently Cameron didn’t want to invite me to play time, so. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of the loop.”

Sage merely stared numbly at him, not saying a single damned word about his current predicament as to why he was on Cameron’s shit list.

“Well go on then,” said Cameron’s bored voice. “Tell him.”

Sage whimpered and Nik nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling to face Cameron who was, of course, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded easily over his chest.

His face matched exactly his tone and of course he also looked completely unsurprised and unfazed that Nik was down here. “Well? What did he do?”

Cameron pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room with ease. Nik only lifted his brows as Cameron placed a hand on the back of the chair when Sage shrunk back into the chair. “He spied,” Cameron said, indifferently. “So I killed his family and let him rot down here to torture in my free time.”

Nik blinked. “On...us? Because I honestly can’t see what he could be spying on unless it was watching you cook every day.”

Cameron cut him an irritable look. “To my brother.”

“...oh,” Nik said, in a faint voice, returning his attention back to Sage. “I- why? We’ve done? Literally nothing to him? I don’t- why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cameron said, straightening. “The spineless will always bend one way or another, and he chose to bend for Destris.”

Nik wrinkled his nose. “Pathetic.”

“Indeed,” Cameron said, motioning for Nik to follow. They shut Sage in the darkness before returning upstairs to the kitchen. Nik was going for the counter to sit while Cameron went to the fridge.

Nik put his head on the counter and scrubbed his face. He looked up when he felt a plate being settled in front of him. He blinked blankly at the plate and then at Cameron. He absently touched his stomach. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry, and when he looked questioningly at Cameron, the alpha said, “I could hear your stomach across the house. Eat something.”

Nik wrinkled his nose, but crunched into a red pepper anyways. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Hm.”

Cameron fixed himself a drink before sitting across from him, watching him steadily. They sat in silence; Cameron nursing his whiskey and Nik munching on red peppers for nearly an hour before a sentry decided to break their comfortable quiet time. “Sir?”

Cameron flicked his cool gaze to the sentry, watching and waiting. Anxiety and fear was radiating from the sentry.

Nik clicked his tongue. “I see we’re the type to learn from example,” he noted. “And clearly Sage is example enough, yes?”

The sentry only looked even more uncomfortable. Cameron cut in. “What do you want?”

“Your angel is awake. Sir.” He ducked back out of the kitchen as soon as the last word was uttered.

Cameron looked unimpressed, but satisfied, as he rose from the stool and started back for his bedroom. Nik snagged a couple pepper slices and trailed after Cameron, munching quietly.

He immediately crawled up behind Lev when he made grabby hands at them. Snuggling into his side, Nik offered him a pepper. “They’re crunchy,” he said, poking Lev’s nose with hte pepper.

“Anything’s better than broth,” he muttered, taking it and nibbling at it. He held his hand out for Cameron when Cameron didn’t move from his spot at the end of the bed. Cameron must have not moved fast enought for Lev’s liking, because Lev said, “Sit with us?”

Cameron seemed wary, though just slightly, before sitting on the bed next to them. “How are you feeling?” he asked, mildly, pressing the back of his fingers to Lev’s forehead and cheeks. “Not hallucinating still, are you?”

“...I was hallucinating?”

“Mm,” Nik said, crunching on his pepper. “Been talking to someone not as interesting as me. Granted, not possible, but you know.”

“I- who?”

“Well, you see-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cameron cut in, sharply. “There is no use dwelling.” He looked at his watch and then said, “I’m sure you’re hungry for an actual meal, since you’ve been sleeping all day.”

Neither Lev nor Nik had the option of answering before Cameron was up and out of the room a second later. Nik looked at Lev, bewildered, and crunched on his pepper. “I see we have struck a rather icy nerve, Levant.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Lev said, sounding even more confused.

Nik patted his cheek. “I know.”

----

Amara fidged as she sat on the edge of Ash’s exam table. “Well, Doc? Am I dying?” she joked, just to break the damn silence.

Ash pulled off his gloves to dispose of them. “You look healthy. A lot of scar tissue.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Amara muttered. “If I were any less vain...”

After leaning against the counter, Ash said, “It looks like a lot of cosmetic scarring, but if you made some changes to your lifestyle, your chances will probably increase. Which means you need to stop getting into fights with everyone.”

“I already cut out drinking,” Amara retorted. “Drugs are more Nik’s scene, and I’m semi-retired anway. What else is there?”

“How about eating a vegetable? Just a singulare vegetable? For once in your life?”

“There were olives on pur pizza last night?” She tried.

Ash looked unamused. “Try again.”

“Look, Ash,” Amara said, trying not to sound defensive. “Best I can cook is a bowl of cereal. I don’t know what you expect of me... that’s actually in my realm of capabilities.”

“Are you saying eating healthy is not in your realm of capabilities?”

“I’m just- I don’t know how,” she muttered. “I know how to feed two people cheaply on twenty bucks a month, but that isn’t exactly... healthy.”

Ash’s face was stern. “I do hope your not planning on feeding an infant on twenty dollars a month.”

“No,” she replied sulkily. “Cin’s in charge of the groceries.”

“Good,” Ash said. “I want you all taken care of.”

“Cin can’t cook anything any more than I can,” she warned.

“And what do you plan on doing about that?” Ash replied.

“Learn how to make grilled cheese?” She looked down. “I don’t know, Ash. If I burn enough things Cin will probably hire a chef or some shit.” A mangled grimace crossed her face. “I haven’t let him spoil me the entire time we’ve been dating. He’ll jump at the opportunity.”

“Well. I mean. I could teach you a few recipes that not even you could fuck up. If you want, of course.”

Amara blinked. “You’d do that?” she asked, startled.

He looked pained this time. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Usually someone is only nice when they want something,” she replied.

“I think the last four months is proof enough that I do not always act nice when I want something,” Ash said dryly.

“Yes well, I wasn’t saying you had to act nice to get what you want, just that there’s no other reason to be nice.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Amara rubbed her face. “I do,” she said tiredly. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” he mumbled, before louder, “When do you want to start?”

“I suppose there’s no time like the present,” Amara muttered back. “Unless you’re busy.”

Ash pushed off from the counter, and said briskly, “Well, no time like the present.”

“Delightful.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @lil-mis-red @ @solangelo3088 @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #cameron and nik and lev #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: darius #ch: ash

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #403

“ashes to ashes, watch me disappear”

If given the opportunity, would you like to star in a musical? Definitely not. I don't like musicals. Name one person you’d take a bullet for: There's honestly a lot, but Mom immediately came to mind. Any posters of a band on your bedroom wall? Yeah: Metallica and Marilyn Manson currently. I want lots more, especially an Ozzy one. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates. Do you share your bedroom with anyone? No, unless you include my cat and snake. Is your favorite color yellow? No, it's actually one of my least favorites. Were you born in a hospital? I was. Do you know the name of the person that delivered you? No, but Mom does. I think he delivered me and my two sisters, and I know Mom has seen him since for other reasons. Was your birth recorded? God no. Good call, Mom. Did you eat a peach this week? Would you believe me if I told you I had a small bit of peach pie for my sister's birthday? For some reason, I just really wanted to try some. It was okay, but the aftertaste sucked. Are you leaving the house tomorrow? Yes, for TMS therapy. Every weekday. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? I honestly do. If you could get free vocal lessons would you take them? Probably not. I don't like singing in front of anyone, and it's not like I wanna get anywhere with my singing, so. Is your mother diabetic? She is. Are you? No. Ever sang someone to sleep? No. Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. What is your main responsibility each day? Be sure to take my medications. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. There are rare mornings where I forget, but I almost always remember. I don't fw skipping out on meds that keep my mental health stable. When was the last time you used spray paint? Good question. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Yep. Who is the friendliest person you know? My mom, probably. Something that annoys you about summer: THE HEAT. THE HUMIDITY. UGH. Something that annoys you about winter: Hm. That's hard to say, given I love winter. I guess the fact it doesn't snow enough here. Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side-by-side. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. Have you ever cried in a movie theater? Not sobbed or anything, but I've definitely teared up and gotten the sniffles because of multiple movies. Do you read comic books? No. Do you force your way into conversations in which you are not involved? No. Have you ever seriously pretended to be clinically insane? I didn't need to pretend; I'm pretty damn sure I was for a while. Might I add that it's EXTREMELY inconsiderate to pretend you're insane, btw. Insanity is not "cool." It's not "funny." It's not "edgy." It's a serious, confusing, heart-wrenching issue that can ruin lives. Do you know anyone with a stutter? Yes, myself included when I'm even mildly nervous. And sometimes just randomly. With a lisp? I don't believe so. What was the last board game you played? The Disney version of "Pretty Pretty Princess" w/ my niece and even my nephew, even though his sexist-ass dad didn't want him to. Like let your kid have some fun with his sister and aunt, goddamn. They had a blast. It was Aubree's birthday present from me, so I am SO glad she loved it. Did you win? Ha ha, no, I always let Aubree or Ryder win. I came super close once, but I let the kids bend the rules a bit. They don't like losing, and even though they definitely need to understand that just happens and is totally fine for it to, I wasn't about to be the one to make them sad about it. When was the last time you tried to speak with an accent? OH MY LAAAAAWWWWWWD. Also at Aubree's b-day party, at one point, I spoke in a snobbish British accent while I was winning at the aforementioned game. Ryder asked, "Why are you speaking Spanish?", and I fuckin DIED. Have you ever made up a word before? Yeah, I know at least a few instances for fantasy animals in writing. When was the last time you went to a museum? A couple summers ago when my brother and his son visited, we went to a science museum. My nephew was sooooo into it. Do you have a nice yard? If so, do you spend a lot of time outside in it? If not, where do you go when you want to relax outdoors on nice days? Our front and back yards are both small and honestly very boring. The grass is a pretty green, but that's the only nice thing about it. I don't go to sit outside here on any day. Do your parents enjoy any of the things that you enjoy? Do you bond over these things? My parents and I have very similar music tastes, so there's that. I also didn't know for the longest time that Mom likes to write, which I sure as hell do, too! She doesn't really write anymore though, and she's self-conscious of it anyway, like I am. She and I also love a lot of the same shows. What is the movie that you have waited the longest for/which film do you remember anticipating the most/are still anticipating? I think The Incredibles 2. I aaaalways wanted to know what happened after the end of the first film. Do you have any ideas for a story or movie you’re planning to write or you’d write if you had the time/had the talent? Please share a synopsis! I genuinely think some RP I've written is series-worthy, but I don't feel like re-writing the YEARS of RP into a book format, and I sincerely worry that the ridiculously dark parts could inspire people like serial killers and cause A LOT of controversy, crime-blaming, and just general hate. I don't want to be involved in that. What is something that an interested guy/girl could comment about you, that would make you instantly open to them (e.g., “That book you’re reading is from my favorite author”)? Compliment my Markiplier tattoo, obviously knowing it's a tribute to him, and we're essentially besties. Is there a person in your life (maybe barely) that you feel in constant competition with (even just in your imagination)? Maybe you feel they are consistently outshining you? Ugh... there's a local photographer that's much more successful than I am that I admittedly am very envious of. I swear to whatever god you may believe in that I mean it from a modest perspective, I really, really do, but I genuinely think my skills surpasses hers, and she's only more prevalent because photography REALLY is about who you know. She's talented, yes, but like... come on. If you are single, even if you are normally happily single, are there certain specific things you witness that make you wish you were in a relationship (e.g., people getting engaged)? I mean yeah. I miss cuddling, holding hands, kissing, just being cute together, and especially people getting engaged or having kids. It's such a trigger to me. Once upon a time, that's all I wanted with Jason. I wanted to be that beautiful couple that got married and had two or three loved-beyond-words children, but then he left so abruptly, and I feel like it was so brutally robbed from me. I don't want kids anymore like at all, but the point still stands that I felt like my dreams were just ripped away. Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? I use "Ozzkat" just about everywhere. Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? OHHHHHHHHHH YEAH. There have been a couple days or so where I was totally glued to looking up various tattoo designs, bingeing let's plays or conspiracy theory videos, etc. etc. If you ever think about getting married, what are some aspects of the wedding that you would like to see in a non-traditional manner (e.g., a different color dress or “partners” over “husband” and “wife”)? I WILL NOT get married in a church, first of all. I'm also not having the traditional vows, and I probably won't wear a white dress, but instead black. Salt & vinegar, barbecue, sour cream & onion, or cheddar? Ohhhh, I like all those options but barbecue. I think I've gotta go with sour cream & onion, though. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? A D O R A B L E ! ! ! I think they're ordinarily geeky, but I mean, geeky is cute in my world. :^) Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? Angels, no. Spirits/ghosts, 100%. I don't exactly believe in demons, per se, but I do question if evil spirits can possess someone. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? I've seen The Notebook numerous times. Name three countries you want to visit; why those three? South Africa to interact with meerkats at the KMP, somewhere up in Canada to see the Northern Lights, and Germany just because, really. I took German for four semesters, and the culture and all just interests me. Do you have a good luck charm? No, considering I don't believe they do jack. Do you use Skype to talk to your friends? Only Sara. Now that I have Discord semi-figured out now though, we'll probably use that for voice chatting. Are you allergic to any animals? I might be allergic to dogs. Do you usually spend your weekends out, or at home? I'm like... always at home. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say "retard/retarded" as an insult? Absofuckinglutely. Don't pull that shit when I'm around. Have you ever had to go to the police department? No. Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Plenty. Have you ever had a home-grown tomato? Yes, from my old friend's garden. We'd have delicious tomato, mayo, and bacon sandwiches. The only instance where I've enjoyed tomatoes. Have you ever held a real gun? The former friend I mentioned just before, her husband always carried a gun, and he just needed me to hold it for a sec for some reason I don't recall. I hated the feeling. Would you rather wear Converse or Vans? I like both, but I think I prefer Converse. Have you ever been called bipolar? Yes, because I clinically am. Have you ever made fun of a handicapped person? FUCK no. And like the "retarded" thing, don't you fucking DARE to do this in front of me. I WILL deck the shit out of you. Do you think it’s okay to have sex before marriage? Sure, as long as you're being safe and are very thorough in communication. Do you like to watch old sitcoms? I don't really watch TV as I say in like every survey it seems, but I do enjoy some old sitcoms I grew up watching with my mom, like The Nanny, The Golden Girls, The Munsters, etc. If asked, could you run a mile nonstop right now? Being completely serious, I don't even know if I CAN physically run right now. My legs are so incredibly weak, and I'm humiliatingly close to what my heaviest weight was back in 2016, so I can almost guarantee my knees would crumple if I tried. Do you wear those rubber wristbands? I used to. I don't really like bracelets nowadays. If a necklace/ring gives you green marks, do you still wear it? Nope. Have you ever driven an electric car? No. When was the last time you saw someone you went to high school with? Uhhhh idk. What breed was the last dog you saw? A fucking GOLIATH of a lab. I shit you not when I say my sister's roommate's dog Hudson is the size of a goddamn bear. How long have your parents been together (or how long were they together, if they no longer are): I wanna say they were together at the very least 20 years. What has been your most epic cooking failure? I once accidentally put something (I don't remember what) in the microwave for around 45 minutes I believe, and I walked away and completely forgot about it. I remembered a long while later, and safe to say, it wasn't edible, whatever it was, lmao. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever had a parrot sit on your shoulder? No, but that'd be cool. Has anyone in your life ever treated you abusively? No. How long has it been since your last breakup? Somewhere around two years ago? My memory is so garbage nowadays. Can you concentrate well while listening to music, or do you find it distracting? It's distracting, usually. What’s something you’ve been struggling with lately? I've been pretty bad about drinking too much soda lately. :/

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(未定事件簿) 莫弈 SSR [心悬一线] [Tears of Themis] Mo Yi SSR [Heart hanging by a Thread] Card Story Translations (Part 2)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mo Yi’s Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *You can hear the absolute fear in his voice when he yells “Careful!!” *Mo Yi: shookf. jpg

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Video Call

Location: Forest

Time ticked on, but Mo Yi hadn't come back at all.

The birds that had been singing had already tapered off, and the woods felt so cold and unwelcoming that it was depressing.

Ji Tang, who hadn't talked in a long while, finally grew impatient from all the waiting.

Ji Tang: How long have we been waiting here?

MC: Probably not all that long…

Ji Tang: That's not possible. How about you take a look at the time?

MC: Maybe over an hour…?

Ji Tang: It's already been that long!?

Ji Tang: If you guys had agreed to support me on the way back to the Camp earlier, we might have already gotten there by now!

MC: Please calm down, Miss Ji. We don't know the extent of your injuries, so it'll be risky if you move so rashly like that.

MC: Even if you do manage to walk, the soil is wet, and it'll be pretty difficult for all three of us to trudge through it together.

MC: It's time-consuming and also energy-consuming. So…

I hadn't yet finished speaking when she cut in again.

Ji Tang: So, you think I'm a burden; someone who'd slow you down!?

Ji Tang: Haha! Does that Doctor think the same too?

MC: No, Miss Ji. That is not what we think of you.

Ji Tang: The both of you intend to leave me behind!

Ji Tang: Did you guys come to the realization that you'd only be wasting your breath by saving someone like me, after finding out that I had no valuable possessions on me!?

The more she talked, the more suspicious she got. I interrupted her, a little annoyed.

MC: If so, then why didn't we take the opportunity to blackmail you before we pulled you up here, to safety?

MC: And why, then, would I even be staying here to accompany you?

Ji Tang: You might not think of it this way, but who knows! Maybe the Good Doctor does!

Ji Tang: Maybe he didn't want to take you along either, so he took this opportunity to shake himself free of you! Don't think that that Doctor's all so noble himself!

Despite knowing that whatever Ji Tang had just said was the result of her letting her emotions get the better of herself, I was still ticked off by it.

MC: Miss Ji, you can choose not to believe me.

MC: But don't you dare paint Dr. Mo in such a bad light! He's not that sort of person!

I never once took her scathing words towards me to heart. But hearing her speak of Mo Yi in this manner sounded like unbearable grating on the ear.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Mo's Mental Health Research Centre

MC: Dr. Mo, whenever you encounter unreasonable Patients who misunderstand you, do you…

Recently, another Doctor had been injured by a Patient that had refused to listen to reason.

The Doctor-patient contradiction had once again made it into the Hot Search, causing disputes from both parties involved.

Mo Yi: Are you trying to ask me if I feel angry or hurt?

MC: You can forget I ever asked about it if you don't want to talk about it!

I saw the smile he had on his face up till earlier cool a few degrees, instantly regretting ever having asked him this question for a moment in passing.

Mo Yi: I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel the least bit unsettled by it.

Mo Yi: No one can stand being misunderstood and still face the other party with a smile on their face.

Mo Yi: But I am a Doctor, so I have my own professional ethics.

Mo Yi: No matter what the Patient thinks of it, as a Doctor, we still have to think about their Medical Condition.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Ji Tang: Since you trust him so much, then how about you wait here for him alone!?

Her shrill cry cut my memory short as she reached out for one of the many outstretching tree roots, using it to attempt standing. But she didn't manage to take a couple of steps before she fell heavily back down with a thud.

Ji Tang: AHH! My leg...it hurts!!

She lied on the forest ground, both hands grasping at her leg as she let out a heart-wrenching scream.

The wound that had already been torn open once re-opened, oozing blood.

MC: Still want to leave?

Ji Tang: No... Not anymore…

Ji Tang: My wound hurts so badly...why is it bleeding non-stop like that? ...I'm so dizzy…

The attitude she took on after having her wound clot over and thus forgetting the pain really gave me a headache. I sighed as I got up to leave.

Ji Tang: Are...Are you leaving!? Don't go!

MC: You don't believe me and neither do you keep to your own promises, so what good will I be here?

Ji Tang: Don't go! I was wrong! I shouldn't have suspected you! I was wrong about you, so don't leave!!

MC: Don't move anymore. I don't have any alcohol or bandages in my bag.

MC: I'll go look for medical supplies nearby. You stay here and wait for me.

I ignored her cries and left in silence.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

According to my previous discussions with Mo Yi, there was a higher possibility of there being supplies near the bridge.

I took out a small knife and marked the trees along the way as I searched, heading straight for the bridge that connected the two Mountains.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

On the other side, the Communicator's line finally went through.

Mo Yi: Yes, the injured is unable to move and requires to be carried away on a stretcher.

Mo Yi: I cannot stay in Camp to wait for your arrival. I have a companion to return to.

Mo Yi: ……

Mo Yi: I know. Can you see my Communicator's current location?

Mo Yi: ……

Mo Yi: Alright. Then please send a Rescue Team to my current location now. I will leave marks to notate the rest of the route. Please follow the marks and make your way over.

After ending the call, he dashed back towards the direction of the Mountain Slope…

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Forest

I never saw the bridge no matter how far I walked, and neither did I hear the sound of water. I was starting to suspect that I had gone off in the wrong direction.

MC: ……

MC: Why aren't I there yet…?

I unfolded the map and calculated the distance again based on the scale.

MC: Logically speaking, I should have already reached my destination, based on my calculations…

MC: I can't be lost now, can I…?

Lifting my head, I looked at the lush woods ahead of me at a loss when Mo Yi's figure suddenly flashed across my mind.

MC: If it were him, what would he do?

MC: No, he'll never let himself end up in such a position.

MC: No, I can't get upset now. He said before that you must remain calm even in times of hopelessness.

Taking a deep breath, I tried my hardest to cheer myself back up

MC: I followed the compass and headed in the direction it pointed me to all the way, so I should be correct… I should go further up ahead and check.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Forest

I didn't know how long I had been walking, but the woods were gradually getting brighter and brighter. I could see a bridge from a distance away.

I ran towards it in excitement.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

A wide, rushing river had cut off the path between the two Mountains. A slender Suspension Bridge hung over it.

The bridge was long. So long, that the other end was hidden among the dense trees. I couldn't see the end of the road that led to the opposite side. Upon closer inspection, I could see something in the middle of the bridge.

MC: A Supply Box!

I breathed a sigh of relief as joy flooded me from having finally found the supplies. After significantly calming down from my monumental bout of excitement, I keenly observed the bridge in front of me.

The Suspension Bridge looked a little old, it's wood planks already starting to turn black.

I tried to make the thickest rope away with my hands, but it didn't budge at all.

MC: It looks old, but it's still holding up rather strong.

MC: Hm? This is…

There were two sturdy wooden stakes at the end of the bridge. I brushed aside the plants that covered the sign and saw what had been carved on them.

MC: This is...the Organizer's logo!

MC: This means that this bridge should have been specially reinforced for this Treasure Hunt…

MC: Not to mention that the Staff placed supplies on the bridge itself, which means it should be safe enough.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

When Mo Yi returned back to where he had left them, he only saw Ji Tang, sitting alone under the tree.

Mo Yi: !!!

Mo Yi: Where did she go?

Ji Tang: Oh, Dr. Mo! She...she…!

She hung her head in anguish, rubbing her non-existent tears away with her hands.

Ji Tang: Dr. Mo, my wound...it re-opened again...

He glanced down at her wound, but ignored her, instead, looking around intently, searching.

After a while, he determined the direction of the woods he was to be heading in and dashed off into its depths.

Ji Tang: Eh? Dr. Mo! Don't leave me alone!

Her cries failed to stop him, and his silhouette disappeared into the woods within seconds.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Location: Forest

After ensuring that the Suspension Bridge was secure enough, I carefully stepped onto it.

It was stable at the start as I proceeded a step at a time, holding tightly onto the rope that held it upwards. However, the closer I got to the middle, the more it shook and the more I felt as if I was floating in the air.

The rushing sound of water under the bridge filled my ears along with the creaking of the wooden boards as it rubbed against the rope.

MC: ……

MC: Don't be scared...don't be scared...

I gripped the rope tightly in my hands, but I could find my own center of gravity.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the Mountains. The bridge seemed to sway even more and leaned closer to the river itself.

I couldn't help but to cast a look down at my feet where the river swirled. It looked like it'd suck me in and swallow me whole.

MC: Oh no... what do I do... I'm usually not scared of heights...

Unwillingly, I did something that I'd never expected; I looked down the bridge again.

It was only then, that I realized that the height at which the bridge was suspended in the sky was much higher than I had initially calculated.

MC: No, no way...

I shook my head, mentally telling myself repeatedly that I won't fall... but I still couldn't shake off that instinctive fear I had of falling.

The feeling of dizziness hit me, and it felt like all my energy had been sapped from my being, rendering me unable to take another step.

MC: Mo Yi...

???: (Y/n)! Hold onto the rope and don't move!

A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice rang out, filling my ears. I turned my head and saw Mo Yi's figure by the bridge.

Mo Yi: Don't make any rash movements, I'll go over at once!

I was greeted by his familiar, but flustered face.

MC: Mo Yi…? Is it really you…?

MC: Am I that scared...that I'm seeing illusions now?

I was a little dazed as I stood there, rooted to my spot, unable to tell the difference between illusion and reality.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Mo Yi checked the Suspension Bridge before walking cautiously upon it, reaching me within moments.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

His hair was a little disheveled, with a couple of strands stuck to his forehead from the sweat.

Gone, was the usual cool and calm he had in his eyes. Instead, what reflected within was something of a rare surprise.

Mo Yi: Can you still stand?

MC: Mo Yi...it really is you!

Hearing my shaky voice, a smile lit up within those anxious golden eyes.

Mo Yi: Yes, it's me; I'm here.

It was almost as if all the waiting though the long winter had ended, and I welcomed the first ray of sunshine on the New Year. My fear gradually dissipated, and the strength slowly returned back to my body, bit by bit.

MC: I'm… I'm good.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

I took a deep breath, slowly loosening my death-grip on the rope and stood up once more.

A faint fragrance hit my nose. A unique scent that belonged to Mo Yi alone.

He was standing behind me, a hand on my waist.

Mo Yi: Watch your feet. These wooden planks look pretty old.

I could hear the sound of a heart thumping by my ear, but I couldn't tell if it was mine or why it was speeding all so intently.

MC: I...

The fragrance that lingered around him seemed stronger than usual, amplified by his warm body.

Suddenly, a crack sounded. It sounded like a wooden plank breaking, snapping me right out of my thoughts.

MC: !!!

Mo Yi: Careful!

I didn't have time to react, only feeling that the ground beneath me had disappeared, losing my balance and falling forwards.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

But I didn't fall. Mo Yi's warm and sturdy arms had wrapped themselves around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.

MC: Ngh…

A sharp pain seared through me. My calf had been torn open by the broken bridge.

I hurriedly gathered my strength and stood back up, but Mo Yi's hands remained on my waist. He didn't let go.

Mo Yi: Are you alright?

Realizing that there was a slight tremor in his voice, I quickly forced out a smile to comfort him.

MC: I'm fine! I'm fine! I just never thought that the plank would break. That really scared me!

I didn't tell him about the injury since I remembered that we were both still atop the Suspension Bridge and that our surroundings weren't exactly safe. But Mo Yi, who was beside me, didn't respond, and the air stagnated for a while.

I could feel the hand he had on my waist trembling slightly through my clothes.

MC: I'm already fine now, Dr. Mo… Don't worry about it.

Mo Yi: ……

Mo Yi: I regret…

MC: What are you talking about?

Mo Yi: Nothing…

He slowly retracted his hand from my waist, almost as if he had suddenly realised that it was still there.

Mo Yi: Sorry, I panicked.

Mo Yi: I'll bring you back.

MC: But we still haven't gotten the Supply Box…

Mo Yi: I'll bring you back first, then I'll come back down to fetch it alone.

Mo Yi: It looks like this bridge isn't all that safe. It'll be better if I'm the only one walking atop it rather than us both.

Seeing his insistence on the matter, it wouldn't be good if I'd pressed on. I was the one who had been way too scared to walk the Suspension Bridge earlier, after all.

MC: (It'll only seem like I don't know my own limits if I insist on fetching that Supply Box on my own now.)

MC: Since this bridge isn't safe, then you shouldn't be going onto it either. Let's look for one somewhere else.

Mo Yi: Alright. Let's go back first.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Mo Yi held tightly onto my hand all the way back in case another accident happened.

The swaying Suspension Bridge suddenly didn't seem all so scary anymore, for some reason.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

I felt more secure than I'd ever had in my entire life the moment I stepped foot back onto solid ground.

MC: We're finally back on solid ground! If you hadn't rushed here when you did, I think I might have been stuck there, unmoving, for the entire day.

Mo Yi: Wait here for me for a while, I'll go get the Supply Box.

MC: Huh? But didn't we just agree that…

Mo Yi: Are you injured?

Although it had been posed as a question, the tone he used was one of confidence.

MC: And I've been found out again, haven't I…

Mo Yi: Would you have not told me about it if I didn't realize?

His tone was slightly cold, making me hang my head slightly in shame like a kid that just got scolded.

MC: Sorry…

Mo Yi: I'm not blaming you.

Mo Yi: Don't worry. The Organizer has specially reinforced this bridge so there should be no problems.

Mo Yi: Plus, your wound can't be left untreated like that.

Not waiting for me to voice my protest, he headed straight for the Suspension Bridge once more.

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

#Tears of Themis #Mo Yi #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #莫弈 #心悬一线 #Heart hanging by a Thread #消失的黄金 #The Lost Gold #Tears of a Psychiatrist

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lastoneout · 4 years

Text

Comfort Food

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: PG

Summary:

Akechi has a food blog, Futaba thinks that's hilarious, Akira is a good friend, and Sojiro needs a drink.

Notes:

This was supposed to just be me projecting my issues on to Akechi because he's my emotional support bastard boi but somehow it turned into nearly 2500 words of tooth-rotting slice of life fluff. Whoops.

A03

Goro learned the hard way that hiding things from Futaba was impossible.

To be fair it wasn’t like he was trying to hide his food blog, he mentioned it in passing a few times and he knew that most of his followers were his fans, but he never really expected any of the Thieves to actually read it, let alone read it out loud, in front of him...while laughing at it.

“What are you, a high school girl?” Futaba said with a snicker after she finished reading his latest post aloud, “I’ve seen little girl’s diaries with more class.”

“Oh my god.” Akira choked out from beside Futaba behind Leblanc’s bar, desperately trying to muffle his laughs as Goro floundered.

He knew he shouldn’t care. The Thieves always poked fun at each other. ‘It’s what friends do,’ Akira had said. If anything he figured he should be grateful that Futaba considered him enough of a friend to playfully mock his hobby. But Goro was never good at regulating his inner emotions, and so as much as he tried to not let it get to him, it did.

Truthfully, he never meant to get into food. For the longest time, he considered it a pointless expense. In the various foster homes that he was tossed between food was almost a luxury. And to someone who often wondered where his next meal would come from it was hard to justify the cost of a fancy dinner when the same money could get him a month's worth of instant ramen and convenience store bento lunches.

But when he got into high school and wormed his way into the police force he suddenly was financially stable enough to justify luxury spending. Nijima-san was kind enough to pull some strings to get the agency to act as a guarantor so he could move out of the foster home and into a small apartment, and after he paid his bills and rent he was left staring at the remaining sum in his bank app, trying to wrap his head around how that money was his, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

He tried to keep a level head and decided to go to a nearby department store to pick up things to furnish his new home, but on the way there he passed a diner and was stopped dead by the incredible smells drifting out the door. His stomach growled, and he found himself trying to remember the last time he had eaten something that hadn’t come wrapped in plastic and styrofoam.

His stomach growled again, and before he had time to think about it, knowing that if he did he would decide against it, he hurried into the restaurant. He was seated quickly, and despite feeling weirdly giddy and anxious he smiled at the kind waitress who took his order. The simple latte and plate of pancakes were probably the most delicious things he had ever tasted, and he couldn’t help how his eyes watered after the first bite, the food filling some empty part of himself he hadn’t even known existed.

Looking back on that day he’s grateful that he wasn’t famous yet, as no one cared to pay attention to the skinny teenager in the booth by the wall trying not to get tears in his dinner.

After that, he ate out at least once a week. He spent little on necessities, picking up most of the things he needed at the ¥100 store and buying used clothes, saving every extra bit that didn’t go into bills for food. Eventually, he started looking up new places to eat, and after finding a few food blogs he decided on a whim to start his own. It didn’t take off until after his big break, but he didn’t mind. The simple pictures and reviews he posted weren’t really for anyone else, and on days when he felt empty and angry, he would scroll back through them and feel a little bit better. Almost happy at the little niche he had carved out for himself.

Shortly after that Akechi’s entire life quickly became a delicate web of lies. He was a double, even triple agent, under so many layers of falsehoods even he struggled to keep it straight sometimes. If anyone ever bothered to break him down to his bare parts there really wasn’t much he actually did for himself. Every single facet of his life and personality had been carefully crafted to ensure he would be able to get the revenge he so desperately craved. He hardly ever did anything just for himself. Every interest he shared in interviews or mentioned around his ‘friends’ was for show, not something he honestly cared all that much about. It was annoying sometimes, having to pretend to care for things he felt apathetic towards, but it was necessary.

But food? Food stayed safe. It helped his Detective Prince facade once he got popular, after all the only thing teenage girls seemed to like more than cute boys was trendy food. And cute boys who love trendy food? That’s a check that writes itself. It made him look soft, approachable, and normal. So he indulged. Actually enjoying sharing the one part of himself that wasn’t fake.

Maybe that’s why Futaba’s mockery stung so much. He wouldn’t care if people made fun of his fake interests, but when it was the real him? It hurt.

He tried to laugh it off, blushing and begging her to stop. He insisted it’s just for his fans, he’s not really that immature or girly, it’s just for show! But each plea seemed to only make the situation worse, so he gave up and silently begged for her to get bored soon, his face an unnatural shade of red.

Akira, ever perceptive, seemed to notice something change in his demeanor, and without a second thought, the teen reached forward and plucked Futaba's phone right out of her hands.

"Hey!" She shouted, grabbing for it.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." He chided, holding the phone just out of Futaba's reach, "We all have our hobbies. But since we're in a sharing mood how about I tell Akechi-kun all about your Featherman shipping blog?"

A chill came over the room. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would." He turned to Goro with a devilish smirk, "See she loves the red and blue rangers together-"

"Akira I'll end you!" Futaba yelled, diving forward and attempting to tackle him. Akira, however, was taller, and easily deflected her blows.

"She was telling me about this doujinshi she read the other day-"

"I'll spread rumors about you on websites you've never even heard of!"

"It was so romantic-"

"I'll leak your bank info on the dark web!”

"It's by her favorite author too, she buys everything they release-"

"I'll destroy you with malware, you won't be able to BREATHE near a circuit board without getting a virus!"

"Tell me, Akechi-kun, do you know what smut is?"

"AKIRA!!!" Futaba shrieked, and it was quickly followed by the sound of clanging pots and Sojiro swearing loudly from the kitchen.

“Would you two cut it out?” He shouted, poking his head around the corner.

“Sorry Boss, just giving Futaba a lesson on being a good friend,” Akira replied with an apologetic smile.

“Well next time can you do it outside? You’re lucky I don’t have any customers in here right now.”

“You never have any customers...” Futaba mumbled.

“I heard that. And Futaba, I thought I asked you to tie up your hair when you’re behind the counter.”

“On it...” She grumbled, pulling her hair back into a lazy bun with the scrunchie on her wrist.

“We’ll keep the noise and health code violations to a minimum, Boss,” Akira said, shooting a lazy salute Sojiro’s way. The older man eyed them for another second before sighing and mumbling something about herding cats as he turned back to the curry.

With the situation defused, Akira and Futaba stared at each other, having a silent yet very animated conversation, but eventually, Akira seemed to win and Futaba sighed heavily, "Okay, okay,” She turned to Goro and gave him a bow, “I'm sorry for making fun of your blog Akechi-kun."

Goro hardly knew what to make of the display, let alone her apology, but it made him feel a bit better, so he relaxed and gave her a genuine smile, “It’s alright, Futaba-chan, I forgive you.”

“Can I have my phone back now, please?”

“You may,” Akira replied amicably, handing the hostage technology back to Futaba.

She smiled triumphantly before another dark look crossed her face. She eyed Goro, suspiciously, before blushing and tapping her fingers together “A-and Akechi-kun...you won’t tell anyone else about the...shipping thing, right?”

“To be honest...I’m not sure I fully understand what you were talking about,” He replied, “But your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m so proud of both of you,” Akira said with a fake teary-eyed sniff, “My two little introverts, making friends.”

Goro and Futaba broke out in protests, but a quick glare from Sojiro shut them both up.

“Wow, you’ve really got that ‘disappointed dad’ look down, Sojiro.” Akira quipped.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than raise hell in my cafe?”

“As much as it breaks my heart, yes.” Akira said, untying his apron and heading around the counter, “I’ve got a date with a pile of dirty dishes in Shinjuku.”

“You’re not taking Morgana?” Futaba asked as he grabbed his bag and jacket.

“Nah, he hates The Crossroads, says the alcohol smell makes his nose itch. When he wakes up from his nap just let him know where I went.”

“Roger that.”

“Thanks,” He said, “See you guys later! Oh, and try not to get into too much trouble while I’m away.”

Futaba rolled her eyes dramatically, and Goro, still feeling a bit lost, simply shrugged.

“Akira, text me when you get there! You know I don’t like you going to that part of town so late.” Sojiro called, and Goro had to suppress a smirk. Akira had faced down far worse threats than the red light district at night. But it must be nice, he figured, to have someone worry about you.

“Got it!” Akira replied, the bell jingling as the door closed behind him.

Futaba seemed to deflate in his absence, looking anxious. She had explained once that Akira was something called a ‘key item’ that gave her ‘a plus ten confidence boost’, and he assumed that just meant she was shy when he wasn’t around. Goro turned back to his discarded coffee, grimacing a bit when a sip revealed it to be lukewarm.

“Uh, I can make you another cup...it’s my fault that one went cold anyway.” She said, clearly trying to make things up to him, “Sojiro’s been teaching me. It probably won’t be as good as his though. I’m still totally stuck on tutorial mode.”

“Oh, um, that would be lovely.” He replied, “Thank you.”

She started the process, carefully measuring grounds as the kettle heated, “You know, you should write about Leblanc on your blog. You like the food here, right?”

“I-”

“Absolutely not.” Sojiro interrupted, joining Futaba behind the bar to supervise the brewing.

“But Sojirooo! Akechi-kun is popular, you might actually get some business for once!”

“I don’t want that kind of business. Sorry Akechi-kun, but hundreds of fangirls in here every day ordering fancy drinks and asking when their beloved Detective Prince is coming back? I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing just thinking about it.” He replied with a chuckle, “A man my age can only handle so many loud teenagers at once, and Akira’s band of hooligans already pushes the limit.”

“Don’t worry, Saku...uh, sorry, Boss. I understand.” Goro clarified, “There have actually been several cases of popular food writers unwittingly causing small restaurants to close due to their articles increasing interest to an unmanageable level. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to Leblanc.”

“Glad we’re on the same page then.”

Futaba finished making the coffee, grinning when Sojiro complimented her technique. She eagerly pushed a fresh cup to him, practically vibrating while she watched him take a sip. It was true that it wasn’t as amazing as her father’s, but it was still good and had its own charm.

“You did well.” He said, and he couldn’t help chuckle when she broke out in a wide smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest at the sight.

“Yes! I leveled up! Plus five coffee making exp!”

“We’ll make a barista of you yet.” Sojiro said fondly, “Now, it’s getting late. Akechi-kun, do you have dinner plans? I’ve got enough curry back here to feed an army, you’re welcome to stay.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Just say yes.” Futaba whispered to him with a smirk, “Sojiro put all of his stat points into feeding wayward teens.”

“Then...yes, I’d be honored.” Akechi said, too confused to be offended by being called ‘wayward’.

“The honor is ours,” Futaba replied solemnly, giving an overly formal bow before breaking out laughing.

Sojiro wasted no time serving up three plates of curry, chatting idly with Futaba as she went to flip the open sign to closed. The two of them managed to herd Goro into a booth just as Morgana trotted downstairs, asking about Akira and demanding food. Futaba poked the poor not-cat a few times while Sojiro retrieved Morgana’s food bowl and popped open a fresh can of cat food.

“Sorry,” Sojiro said, pulling up a chair and making room on the table for Morgana’s dish, “He throws a tantrum if he doesn’t get to eat with us.”

“I do not!” Morgana shouted indignantly, “I’m just too civilized to eat on the floor.”

“Chatty cat,” Sojiro replied, giving Morgana a few chin scritches.

“Morgana is family,” Futaba said sagely, “And a family that eats together, stays together.”

‘...Family, huh...’ Goro thought to himself.

“What’s up Akechi-kun?” Futaba asked, and he blushed lightly as he realized he was staring off into space.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” He deflected, “The food looks delicious, Boss. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the food!” Futaba yelled before digging into her plate, and the rest of them quickly followed suit.

As the four of them shared the meal, Goro felt the warm feeling from before grow and spread through his chest. Futaba was using her fork to flick small bits of meat at Morgana despite Sojiro’s half-hearted complaints, cheering as Morgana somehow managed to catch every single one. The smell of curry and coffee and cat food mingled in the air with laughter and shouts, giving the whole room a feeling not unlike a comforting hug.

Goro allowed himself a small smile, sure that the only reason he felt so happy was the food.

#persona #persona 5 #akechi goro #futaba sakura #akira kusuru #no persona 5R spoilers #loo writes #please read my trash #long post #just in case the readmore doesn't work #Me And Mine #Text

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