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alcego · 7 months

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please i need an explanation of nathan wesninski not being a serial killer. his character in canon is so interesting and i’d love to hear your analysis.

to preface this i'm legitimately a little sick right now, so sorry in advance if i'm not the most coherent. this got a little long, so readmore has been put in place.

Nathan works for the Moriyamas. linds, who is incredible at finding quotes/excerpts from the novels, pulled this last night, which gives a clearer idea of what Nathan was doing. it's irrelevant to the books what the Moriyamas were doing, but Nathan was tasked with holding Baltimore as Moriyama territory. this would involve "dealing with" people who interfered with their trade, whether that be drugs, trafficking, smuggling, or a combination of those. this could range anywhere from chasing them off, bribing officials, or killing people. given Nathan's proclivities, i would not be surprised if he was also used to extract information from competitors or threats to the empire. Neil says that Lola was responsible for disappearing bodies; apparently her MO was cutting them into tiny pieces and disposing of them. while unclear, i suspect Romero/Malcom were grunts: responsible for grabbing people, transporting them, and doing the pre-torture torture for Nathan. this is explicitly what they do with Neil, and all of this tracks with a hierarchy one would expect out of organized crime, NOT from a serial killer.

however, their structure indicated him as the fall guy: they are doing organized crime; it is inevitable the feds are going to come sniffing, and the Moriyamas planned for this and decided that Nathan would be the one to take the fall. based on the organized crime, being paid by the Moriyamas, and having $5 million hanging around for Mary to steal, it seems fairly straightforward to assume he was laundering money. this would be necessary to hide the trail that would lead that money back to the Moriyamas, and would be a necessary component of setting him up as the fall guy. lots of little hidey holes for her to sneak it out of, that would not be noticed immediately. this leads me to the next VERY important point: Nathan is in jail for tax evasion.

you know, the thing Al Capone, infamous gangster, got prosecuted for? the IRS doesn't fuck around, and it's easier to hide bodies than it is to skip out on taxes. if you think i'm kidding, i'm really not.

now, i've also seen people point to Nathan's enjoyment of killing people as a sign he's a serial killer. i counter this by saying who better to put in a "torture and kill people" job than a guy who likes to torture and kill people? in a majorly fucked up way, this is a great way to keep this sort of person loyal to the family; he gets to do something he likes with a fair bit of resources and protection. (that protection is limited, obviously, but isn't non-existent; he has money, which means he has lawyers, and he has bribes, and he can make a lot of awkward things go away.)

this may be an example people don't like, but we don't call active duty soldiers who kill people in the line of duty serial killers because they are doing a job, even if they seem to enjoy it WAY too much. for that same reason, you can't say Nathan getting a kick out of murder is a surefire sign he's a serial killer. it means you have grounds for an AU, if you'd like it, but not that he is one. killing people comes with the territory with organized crime. he's just doing his job.

but what about Neil? that's serial killer stuff, right? no. it's not. it's personal, yes, but having a personal vendetta against the kid who was never anything but an object and the woman who stole $5 million of your scary boss's money (and also embarrassed you in a supremely emasculating way--he got robbed by his wife and kid, which would have major repercussions on his reputation and power in the family) isn't really. pointing toward serial killer. it's pointing toward an obsession, and murderous intent, but that does not a serial killer make. it's a different MO entirely. he's still employing his people to find the kid and torment him. he's mixing business and pleasure, if you will, while hunting down Mary and Neil.

further, Neil never considers him a serial killer. this is ALSO important; the narrative does give you a pretty clear-cut idea of how to feel about him. even in Neil's obfuscations, Nathan was a gangster who they stole money from and ran away from because he was an abusive sack of shit. at no point does Neil suggest that Nathan was going out and hunting people down to sate an urge. there is no indication that Nathan had a profile, or a favorite type of victim, or even that he hunted for personal pleasure. Nathan enjoys his work, but it's still work. he's not snatching people out of dark alleys and killing them. he's not doing it to fulfill a lust for power or to sate sexual urges or anything of that nature that would point toward serial killer; he's killing people who interfere with the business. Neil interfered with the business. he made Nathan look stupid and weak. hunting Neil down would be a "justified" vendetta for him to have. a pet project, if you want to call it that.

basically, Nathan works for the mob. his jail time is a direct allusion to Capone, another gangster. he kills for entirely different reasons than a serial killer would. you can argue that he's a serial killer in the sense he's killed people over time, but that would be incorrect for the same reason we don't consider hitmen or active duty soldiers serial killers. different motives, different executions. even if they like it.

#ask #nathan wesninski #aftg

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dayseternal-blog · 1 year

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Heya! I think I may have mentioned this to you before years ago, but I love your stories! (Pardon me if I gush) White Lilies absolutely killed me with the angst, but it fits so well with canon, particularly Naruto realizing he's in love with Hinata because he's jealous of another man showing interest in her (since that's literally what happened in The Last, and was confirmed in the movie's official databook). I also love how you don't have Hinata stuttering over her lines in your stories, since in canon she stopped doing that in the Invasion of Pain arc, yet a lot of other fanfic writers, including fellow NH fans, still like to write her as a stutterer, which just regresses her. Please keep up the good work! I can't wait to see what else you'll write! 🥰

I'm starting to think about making my own AO3 account because FF seems to be dying out as of late (my FF moniker is the same as my Tumblr one, although I haven't updated either of my two stories nor my bio in years). I was wondering if you could maybe give me advice or the pros/cons of having an AO3 account? Any help is appreciated as I think about this! 👍🙏

💗💗💗 I'm so glad that you enjoyed White Lilies!!!! About Hinata stuttering, I do write her like that sometimes... Uhhh it depends on how old she is in my fics, but if she's high school age or younger, she sometimes stutters, like in "Last Chance" and "Little Samurai." But yeah, if she's older, I like to think that she is a stronger communicator. Thank you for your enthusiastic support 🥺💖

So about AO3!!!!!!!! ✨I love AO3.✨ I'm so happy with AO3, I don't feel the need to post my fics anywhere else, besides here on Tumblr. I highly recommend getting an account for these reasons:

name familiarity & building community - I love being able to recognize readers. I've been thinking about how writing is a fairly "lonely" type of activity. When I first started writing, I began to recognize the usernames of people who regularly commented or left kudos on my fics, and I just loved those people to pieces. It's just nice to have a sense of familiarity on AO3.

Bookmarking - If you want to save a fic for later, you can bookmark it and make a note of the chapter you left off on. It's a nice feature, especially if you're the type to keep tabs of fics you haven't read yet open. I use Bookmarking as like my personal favorites recommendation list because it's right on my AO3 profile. I also use other people's Bookmarks list to find good fics, and I've read a lot of random pairings in fandoms I'm not a part of due to Bookmarks.

Subscriptions - You can subscribe to a fic so that you get an email when a fic updates. You can also subscribe to users so that you can get an email every single time that writer updates or posts anything.

Archiving - You might want to consider migrating your old fics over to AO3 because it has a whole legal team and successful fundraising efforts to preserve your work, even if you might think your old fics aren't worth reposting. AO3 has so much strong, passionate support, there's very little chance of AO3 disappearing.

Preferences - You can customize AO3. So you can turn off the warning banners that always pop up on mature-rated fics and control what you receive email notifs for. You can also set a Site Skin from the AO3 options and the user-created ones, like the rainbow pink one I'm currently using. It just makes life that much happier. You can use all sorts of Site Skins that change the color of the background, change the text font to be easier to read, or hide your hit counts and other stats to protect your sanity as a writer.

History - Your account will keep track of all the fics you've read, so if you're looking for something you can find it again. Also, it's just interesting, but it will also tell you how many times you've visited that particular fic. Uhh apparently I've visited "21 Days" by BunnyHoodlum 455 times :D That must be partially because I've recommended it so many times.

Mark for Later - Besides subscribing or bookmarking, you can click a button that marks the fic for later. You would find this list on your History page. It tells you when you last visited the fic and whether there's been any changes to the fic since you last read it. So this is another cool way to keep track of all of the fics you're reading.

I've never posted on any other fanfiction site, so I can't compare, but I love how organized AO3 feels. The tagging system is to-die-for.

I love the posting features, like posting under different Pseudonyms, setting a fic as part of a series, linking in an inspired-by work, or gifting a fic to someone. I feel like AO3 put a lot into consideration so that it is user-friendly.

Another thing that writers can do is post challenges/claim challenges. I've never done this, but Sessakag has recently written for VulgarAssassin's prompts! This is one way that AO3 encourages community.

Another amazing thing that AO3 has is the ability to distance yourself from your own fics. You can orphan your own fic so that it is no longer linked to your page but will still be on AO3. The only problem is that you can't get it back. You can also add your fic to an anonymous collection, and I think if you ever wanted to, you could take off the anonymous hat and reveal yourself as the writer. I've never done this.

When I was considering cross-posting on ffnet and wattpad, people told me that I would reach way more people because people use those sites more. I mostly decided not to cross-post because I can't rationalize the extra work to upkeep multiple accounts and respond to comments. So perhaps the only downside to creating an AO3 account is that you'd have more accounts to manage and the platform has a smaller audience.

I hope you create an AO3 account!!!!!! I hope everyone makes an AO3 account!!! It's such a well-run site!!

#silalcarin #ao3 my beloved #nice ask

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h0tchner · 3 years

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Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fandom #my fics #rb!!!!!! ily!!!!!!!!!#ivyheliotrope #abby!#aaron hotch

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years

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I can't believe you support Yukio! He's an abusive asshole that has hurt Rin multiple times and should be hated!

I've gotten like four Yukio based questions and I am now making this my official and long response.

Actually, I suppose the simple answer is quick and easy. Yes, I support Yukio. No, he shouldn't be hated. I don't really think anyone in AoEx should be 'hated' even if there are characters I dislike. I will gladly proclaim that and stick my name on it. Yukio = tonguetiedraven supported.

The long answer is below. I'm putting a break here because I got a bit wordy. I also didn't proofread and do not care at all about any mistakes.

RESPONSE TO SEASON ONE YUKIO HATERS

If you're an anime only fan, please invest the time in reading the manga. All the best bits of the anime are from it, and the story has so many incredible things that you miss if you've only seen the anime.

Now, what did Yukio do in that season to deserve hate? As far as I can remember, there were roughly... three? moments where Yukio treated Rin poorly.

First: the moment with the temp-taints when he turned the gun on Rin. From Rin's pov, this seems unfair and cruel, and strange, and since we're watching most of the show through his pov, that's our initial takeaway. That Yukio is being a jerk. From Yukio's pov though, the scene's very different. Yukio has known about demons his entire life and he has known Rin's full story since he was at least seven. He knows his twin has Satan's powers and that it is vital those powers don't awaken. The last time Satan's powers were loose in Assiah they destroyed countless lives.

Then his adoptive father and mentor is violently murdered by Satan and found in the middle of a broken Gehenna gate with a now awakened Rin in the middle of it.

Yukio, now in charge of protecting and monitoring his brother, is then confronted with his demonic half and has no real reason to believe the Rin he'd grown up with and loved all his life was still in there. For all he knew Satan's power and rage had taken over. He doesn't see Rin controlling his flames, but he does see that Rin is still at least Rin enough to want to keep him safe.

At that point you don't seem him threaten Rin again until much later on in the season. He orders him around, and he should because Rin is always reckless and there is the constant and very real threat that the Grigori will kill Rin if he reveals himself or steps out of line. (And in all honesty, they'd probably hurt Yukio too.)

The next occasion of 'abuse' would be Yukio shooting Rin in the episode with Michelle in her possessed spider demon form. They were tranquilizer darts because Rin was not paying attention and Yukio was terrified that his brother was going to get himself hurt/killed. It was arguably not the wisest choice, but I see no reason for it to earn Yukio hate. People are allowed to make hasty decisions, and his goal was to keep Rin out of harms way and take the danger of defeating the demoness on himself.

The third and final reason is the entire debacle of the paladin arc and the fact that Rin essentially got gutted for his blood.

- Yukio was lied to and manipulated by his grandfather. He was a victim in that situation. His own desire for order and protecting Rin made it easier to manipulate him, but he was still tricked and made to believe that Egin's goals were to stop the threat of Satan and get rid of the danger Rin was always in.

- Yukio took Rin's place as soon as the full reality of the situation was known to him. He sacrificed himself to keep Rin safe and when he was possessed by Satan, it was his love of Rin that drew him back out. He then teamed up with his brother and saved the world.

I genuinely see no reason to demonize Yukio for anything in that season. You can be annoyed by him, you can not click with him as a character, but insisting others hate him or that he is evil is something that is ridiculous. It's a refusal to consider his point of view as valid or even having the potential of being valid, and it's a refusal to acknowledge that people can make mistakes and have good intentions. It also tends to put Rin on a pedestal he shouldn't be on, and couldn't possibly live up to. The characters in AoEx are appealing because they have flaws and make mistakes and they're human.

RESPONSE TO SEASON TWO YUKIO HATERS

Again, please read the manga as it has so much more than you get in the anime. I love both animes, but you're missing some fantastic parts and there is so much more to the story!

Okay, I haven't watched the beginning of this season of the anime in a while because I like the second half best, but if I recall:

First 'annoying' bit with Yukio: He tells Rin to stay away from the fight. Rin, as always, doesn't listen to him. Rin is a liability and they lose Toudou and because Rin is there, Toudou now knowns that Rin is a weakness to Yukio.

Yukio then gets to Kyoto, and like everyone in Kyoto but Rin, he is very busy with all the drama going down over there and the attempt to keep the remaining eye safe while also struggling with the fact that Rin is now probably going to die if he puts a toe out of line. (And remember, Rin just proved he was happy to put that toe out of line because he didn't listen to Yukio when Yukio told him to stay out of the fight. Yukio is too realistic to think his twin isn't going to fuck it all up before they get out of Kyoto. He's just trying to lock all his emotions down until they're through with it all.)

Rin socks Ryuuji in the face, bursts into flames, and basically waves a big flag that says "I am a volatile halfling!" to the general public right in the middle of a huge gathering of True Cross members and seals his fate while Yukio is elsewhere trying to keep some semblance of order. He then has to deal with the fact that Rin got a death sentence all while still trying to stop Toudou's plans and put some kind of defense up. He gets the letter which tells Rin to be reckless once again, and tries to put his foot down. He wants Rin to stay safe and locked away so they can fight for his freedom later without risking pissing the Grigori off more.

Unsurprisingly, Rin doesn't listen. Then Yukio and Rin don't see each other for the rest of the fight, but wow, does Toudou use the Rin weakness against Yukio in that long, wet, horrible fight. He tries to rile up the hate of Rin in Yukio, tries to twist his emotions, tries to manipulate him, and tries to make him act recklessly or join his side. If he won't join the dark side, then just dying is what Toudou wants.

Yukio admits that he loathes himself and loathes the things Rin has become (a halfling and that's understandable because Rin beinging a halfling is a constant reminder that Shirou is dead, their plan failed, they're both the sons of Satan, and they're at the whims of the Grigori constantly.)

Then he has the horrible trauma of almost dying, and having his eye taken over as the flames of Satan flare all around him.

Having made it out of that fight alive, but not defeating Toudou, he then finds out that Rin had not listened to him and run head first into to danger and broken the rules of the Grigori. He punches him because they're brothers and he's angry and tired, and in need of some time to work through the whirlwind of emotions that long ass day had been.

Rin tells him after the day of fun that he can tell him anything, but Yukio has spent his entire life not telling Rin things. He has been made to keep secrets since he could speak so that Rin would keep safe, and it's just not something he can break at that point. In his mind Rin is someone to protect, and someone who is more important than him.

That's what a lot of Yukio haters miss, that Yukio values Rin more than himself. Rin, the twin he grew up with and loved, is more important than anything, and Yukio will do whatever it takes for him. He hates himself, and he hates parts of Rin, but I would argue that at the end of the day he loves Rin more than he has ever loved himself.

Again, I see reasons to not click with Yukio as a character, but I can't see a reason to think he deserves hate from everyone. Not in the animes.

MANGA YUKIO DEFENSE

I'm not really going to cover anything specific in this because, a) because this has already taken me like a half hour and this stupid comment didn't even deserve that. (Yukio absolutely deserves a half hour of my time and I'm happy to give it to him.) and b) Kato already defended/redeemed his actions in the manga that I think most people had a problem with. (His dramatic 'shooting' of Rin and his 'joining' of the Illuminati.')

What I have not mentioned about Yukio so far is that Yukio is depressed. Severely depressed. And, as far as I can tell, has been for a very long time. I don't think I've ever read a manga that has a better written character with mental health problems. It's been something that she's shown from the beginning, and that she's built incredibly well to the current arc in the manga.

I can honestly not even begin to explain this as eloquently as owlcheese did here: https://tonguetiedraven.tumblr.com/post/669753611846287360

If you hate him because he 'shot' Rin, then honestly, go ahead. I don't care who you like or dislike. Stop telling me I can't like him because of this. He shot Rin with nonlethal bullets and he did it to get away from Rin who has proven on so many occasions that he's not going to listen to Yukio.

The sword breaking wasn't his fault, nor was the seal on Rin's heart breaking his fault.

Yukio and Renzou joined the Illuminati. Why does everyone who uses that as a reason to hate Yukio seem to forget the fact that after five days there he set it on fire and set two enormous demons loose on it to destroy it? I'm pretty sure Lucifer would rebuke his membership after that, lol.

At the point of the reunion with Rin -- who he didn't know had been on a long ass journey to learn about the past and who he didn't know had lost the seal on his heart -- he wanted to die so that the Illuminati and Satan couldn't use him for their plans. He already hated himself so he saw no point in continuing.

God, this has gotten silly long, hasn't it?

Yukio makes mistakes, messy and sometimes far reaching mistakes. Yukio is complicated and occasionally irrational and self-destructive. He's calculating and tries to be emotionless because his mental illnesses have him feeling numb most of the time and self-loathing the rest of the time.

He loves his brother and doesn't show it in the best ways most of the time. He's young and traumatized, and trying to learn to trust. He's a child soldier and a teenager responsible for the lives of his friends and countless others. He's seen demons since he was a baby, and he hates the weak parts of himself, but he's reaching for his brother now instead of shoving him away. He's a well written character, even if you don't like him. He's a realistic character, and extremely important representation in a genre that rarely if ever depicts mental illness, and certainly not in such a realistic light.

You don't have to like Yukio, but you certainly don't get to tell me to hate him and you won't convince me he deserves even a fraction of the hate he gets.

This is my final response on this subject. I support Yukio. I will go to bat for him and I will continue to enjoy him and the story Kato's weaving with him and Rin. I'm so excited to see him start to heal, and I hope one day he learns to love himself because he deserves it.

I'm going to continue writing him and reblogging stuff with him. Feel free to just block his tag. It'll make everyone's life easier :)

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 7

Y/n meets her savior and officially joins the investigation.

@deadman-inc-bikeshop @viviace and @dovahdokren here you go. If you want to be on the tag list, send me a DM.

Trigger warnings: dissociation, implied sex abuse/trafficking, discussions of death, drugs

It was only when the man left your line of sight that your senses started to return. And even then, you felt like you were on a separate plane of existence from everything happening around you. You were floating, completely numb to your surroundings, letting the world push you wherever it needed you to be.

You weren't entirely sure how you made it from the dumpsters to the FBI headquarters, but there you were.

You listened in on the conversation happening in the other room. From what you could tell, the man who saved you was arguing with his boss.

"Because if there's so much as a Tylenol in her system, you're going to pass it off to the DEA." The man said, his voice soft but firm. This wasn't the first time they had this argument and it showed.

"Will, it is not my fault that the DEA gets preferential treatment." The boss sounded exhausted. "We have a better chance of catching this man with their resources. And we can't turn a blind eye to how substances affect human behavior. I thought you of all people would accept this."

"What if there's nothing in her system?" The man posited. "Then all we have to work with is our own resources. Would that be so bad?"

"Look," the boss said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "We can't determine anything until forensics gets lab results back tomorrow. For now, see what you can find out from the waitress. She was able to keep her talking, maybe we can find out about what."

The man resignedly left the room and made his way to you. You glanced around the hallway, hoping he wouldn't notice that you've been eavesdropping.

He sat on the opposite end of the bench. You pulled the security blanket from the ambulance tighter around your shoulders.

"I know this is such a stupid, insensitive thing to ask," the man broke the silence. "But are you okay?"

"If it makes you feel any better," you sighed and dropped your shoulders. "I wasn't really okay to begin with."

"Yeah." The man agreed. "It doesn't matter how much you break something, it's still broken. Broken is a... Boolean value."

"It's just that.." You clutched the receipt between your fingers. "Just as I thought things were starting to improve, the universe sends me a cultist strapped to a bomb. I'm never going to recover from this."

"I don't think anyone expects you to." He said. "My name's Will, by the way."

"[F/N]." You said, just for formality's sake. He already knew your name. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for saving my life."

"Don't worry about it." Will smiled weakly. "If you think you can, though, it would be innumerably helpful if you told us what happened."

You knew you weren't in a position to be asking for favors, but you were desperate. "Could I maybe stay with you for a while?"

Will hovered his hand over yours as if asking for permission. You took it, perhaps a little too eagerly.

"I'll stay with you as long as you want."

Will's presence made it easier to tell the man, whom you learned was the head of the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI, everything that progressed that night.

"And then she started chanting that one bible verse about the martyrs inheriting the kingdom of heaven." You finished. "That was when Will shot her in the leg."

The director, whose name you learned was Jack Crawford, took a moment to ponder the information. You felt like a child that had been sent to the principal's office.

"Do you have any reason to believe that the woman was under the influence of any drugs? Alcohol?" Jack asked, resting his hands on the desk.

"Not with any certainty, no. I didn't see her ingest anything." You shook your head. "If she was under any influence at all, it was probably against her will."

"What makes you say that?" Jack cocked his head. "In your own time, of course."

"She was..." you glanced at Will, just to remind yourself that he was there. "Scared. Nothing she said had any conviction behind it. It was like she was a hostage being forced to read a fake suicide letter."

"What about these 'cult names' you mentioned?" Jack said. "What significance do you think they have?"

"She kept referring to Chase as 'vanguard'." You began.

"That's what Keith Raniere called himself." Jack interrupted. "Keith Raniere was the head of a sex trafficking cult."

"And the only reason I know that is because I listen to a lot of podcasts." You felt the need to explain. "I'm not sure how Mulvaney decided it would be a fitting title. Maybe he identified with Raniere."

"Did the woman call herself something, too?" Jack leaned in.

"Funny you should mention that," You forced a laugh. "Because she referred to herself as an 'unwoman'."

"That is interesting." Jack brought his hand to his temple, perhaps trying to convince you that he knew what ‘unwoman’ meant.

"He probably thinks Handmaid's Tale is some kind of instruction manual." You said, emphasizing the title of the work.

“Handmaid’s Tale!” Jack exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "So, are you thinking maybe he's running a breeding cult?"

“Like a borrasca.” You turned to Will, hoping that maybe he would understand what that meant.

As if on cue, a woman in a lab coat burst into the room.

“Dr. Katz,” Jack announced, taken aback by her urgency. “Welcome.”

“Jack, you’re going to want to see this.” Dr. Katz said simply.

Jack stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, Ms. [L/N], Will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Again, you were alone with Will.

“I’m...” Will broke the silence, pausing to find the right words. “Jack isn’t as scary as he looks. He just has a habit of asking too much of people. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’re perfectly within your rights to tell him to back off.”

You shook your head. “That wouldn’t feel right.”

“Tell me about it.” Will muttered and leaned back in his chair. “It does seem pretty out of character for him to want to drop the whole case on the DEA, but he does have a point about their resources. You can’t argue with money.”

“No.” You agreed. “You can’t.”

Will sighed. “I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want to hear about is FBI in-fighting after almost being killed twice in a two-week period.”

“It doesn’t really inspire confidence, no.” You said.

“Let’s talk about something else.” He offered. “Do you like... fishing?”

You laughed at his strange attempt at making conversation, but answered honestly. “I used to go fishing with my grandpa when I was a kid.”

Realizing he’d tapped into a happy memory, Will decided to follow it. “Where did he take you?”

“My grandparents had this lake house up in Michigan.” You reminisced. “On this dinky little manmade lake where all the rich boomers took their spoiled grandkids for the summer.”

“Did you ever catch anything?” He shared a little smile.

You realized that he was doing the same thing to you that you did to the unwoman. He was trying to keep you talking to avoid, or at least prolong, some catastrophic event. But he was doing it for your sake. You appreciated that.

“We pulled up a ton of bluegills, some walleyes, occasionally a bass.” You listed. “One time he and his brother-in-law settled a dispute by seeing who could catch a catfish first. They were outside all day.”

“Did he ever take you downstate to go fishing on Lake Erie?”

You stared vacantly ahead. “He wanted to.”

Will lowered his head in respect. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was, like, fourteen years ago.” You admitted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Still,” Will shrugged. “Grief takes a lot out of you. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I had no idea.”

“At this point, most avenues in my life end in death. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “Thanks for trying, though.”

You settled into another prolonged but comfortable silence.

“I think Jack is going to arrange to get you into some kind of protective custody, by the way.” He said, shifting his body to face you. “And I don’t think he’s going to give you a choice now that he knows Chase is targeting you, specifically.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that.” You answered. “I think they’re probably going to insist I quit my job, too.”

“You sound disappointed.” Will nodded. “You’ve grown to like that job, huh?”

“I was good at it.” You admitted. “My boss was gunning for me to take over when he retired. I had big plans for that place. I know waitressing is supposed to be a job that’s ‘just a job’ but--”

“You had ambition.” Will finished. “You were making an investment for your future.”

For the first time in a while, you felt heard. “Right.”

“If you would permit me to say,” Will stood up and walked towards Jack’s desk. “I think you would be an invaluable asset to this investigation.”

You leaned on the armrest. “I don’t know, Will. I feel like I would just get in the way.”

“But the sooner we catch this sick fuck, the sooner you can get back to your restaurant.” He said, grabbing a post-it note. He gestured to you with a pen. “And I will do everything in my power to get you back to that restaurant.”

“Why?” You asked. “I’m just a waitress.”

“Your profile of Chase Mulvaney in your TattleCrime interview was a work of genius.” Will took off his glasses. “And it was incendiary enough to make him come back for you. It wasn’t just a cocaine-fueled bout of murderous hysterics. He remembered you. Now, throughout this investigation, Jack has been ignoring me. But maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You raised an eyebrow. “What then?”

Will sighed and leaned back on the desk. “Then I do it myself.”

“Fuck it.” You said, the complete contents of your soul behind those two little words. If he was going to raise the stakes, by god you were going to match him. “I don’t have much else to live for, so might as well die for something.”

“That’s the spirit.” Will agreed.

#hannigram x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x you x will #hannibal x reader x will #will graham x you #tw death #tw dissociation #tw trauma #tw sex trafficking #will graham x reader #hannibal nbc

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sexyglances · 3 years

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Dusik's Self-Isolation, the "Doorkeeper" Poem, and Hyejin's Presence

It's been said many times before about Dusik, but episode ten once again showed how he has dedicated his life to a series of active choices that results in purposeful denial of providing love to himself. He deliberately distances himself from others and tries to deny his love for anything and anyone as a way for repenting against his past 'sins' of loving people who all died too soon.

To Dusik, his love has been nothing but a condemnation to others and himself, and he feels like he must live a life in limbo purgatory as penance, neither giving nor receiving too much companionship, lest he condemn another person via his love. Is his carefree lifestyle that carefree? Or is it his way of willfully keeping himself from attaching to anything? Because life has taught him that if he has strong emotion for something, then that is a harbinger of destruction for what he loves.

All the people he cared for most in his life died too suddenly and too early in his life, before he could process how to say a proper goodbye. And he feels directly responsible for at least one of their deaths--we see him say so explicitly to both his therapist in general and in more detail to Hyejin about his grandfather. To Dusik, his grandfather died because he let himself love soccer more than being vigilant, even though he didn't know there was anything to be vigilant for at the time. Then after his last loss in his mysterious five years away from Gongjin, it seems like Dusik abandoned direct expressions of love for anybody. He learned that vigilance is the only expression of love that he should offer other people.

Staying vigilant of other people's needs while also staying vigilant of not getting too close is his way of protecting other people for their needs and from himself. This is partly why he tried to deny his feelings for Hyejin for so long, dancing between the friend zone and something more. (As an aside, this focus on his own vigilance may also play into his love for photography. He seems drawn to capturing moments to look back on, not wanting moments to pass by unnoticed.)

As part of his vigilance, Dusik created a life for himself back in Gongjin as an unemployed jack-of-all-trades, a fix-it man, an unofficial neighborhood chief that can show up at a moment's notice when help is needed. Dusik has made himself into a person that can be reliable in any situation. And he threw himself into that role by learning as many trades as possible so he could fix any problem, from HVAC repair to barista certification to fruit carving and anything in between. But even though he wants to be known as a reliable entity in town, he also makes sure to position himself as a periphery figure only. He only shows up from outside other people's routine lives. He purposefully does not live on any fixed schedule that is permanently tied to anyone else, and he surrounds himself with a thick air of detachedness. This is how he ensures he can't become an albatross to anyone's life again. He can't be accountable for destruction of life if he's simply a hired part-timer and a neighborhood helper; and nothing with any inherent responsibility that can't be explained away by utility rather than love.

Sure, he's a chief that other people turn to for help, but he rejects anything more official than being a helpful neighbor. He refuses to express his love for individual people because experience has taught him that his love can destroy lives, so he only shows his love for the people of Gongjin as part of a whole entity, detaching himself from anything that can be seen as preference for individual people. This is something Chunjae noted in their conversation the night Juri ran away. Dusik accepts other people's problems and their joys, but he doesn't actively share his own in full-fledged reciprocation. The exception seems to be halmeoni Gamri, at least to some extent, but even then he tends to frame any explanation of him going above and beyond for her as a way of paying back for how much she cared for him growing up. Dusik lives in his own manufactured limbo where he has made his existence entirely fixed as an untethered entity.

Dusik has turned his pain into a lifestyle where he knows he must keep his heart guarded from other people by becoming too attached, keep himself from sullying his hometown and the people he's dedicated himself to with the infection that is him asking for reciprocity. His infectious disease is spread through baring himself and his full-fledged feelings to other people, and thus he quarantines that part of himself from anyone. Denial of love is his love. So he flits from job to job, works for minimum wage, and tries to pretend that he does not attach himself to anything or anyone but himself. It's easier for everyone this way. That way he cannot drag anyone down into the surf that is his destruction.

He has decided that it's better for him to be a solitary observer, taking up space in a manmade shipwreck away from others, both literally and figuratively, as is shown by how he made the choice to keep his grandpa's boat out of the water, perching it on a hill so high and isolated that he could barely get it up there in the first place. Even if it is incredibly difficult to do, he is determined to meet his goal of self-exile. It's the only way he knows how to protect himself and everyone else, through self-imposed isolation.

But like the poem Dusik read to Hyejin, once she entered his life, she would not stop showing up for him. She didn't willingly ascribe to the rules he set forth for other people. He told her to cross lines freely, as if she had already been doing so. She may have verbally pontificated about not crossing lines, but her actions said otherwise, and she was crossing Dusik's boundaries before he even knew it. She didn't fit perfectly into Gongjin or Dusik's life, and her stretching the limits of what is 'acceptable' is what he needed to open himself up to a new perspective other than steadfast solitude. It was through her own actions, stepping into his circle of solitude and making her presence known, that he began to question if isolation was really what he wanted and preferred.

From the very beginning, Hyejin asked Dusik to stay with her, literally tugging on his shirt to keep him from leaving on the beach the first day they met. And she hasn't stopped holding onto him. First it was out of helplessness, then when she held onto him and asked him to stay before her first town hall meeting, it was her asking for his support, then when she ran into his arms when she was scared, it was her showing her deep trust for him, and now most recently, in her half-asleep state on the couch, it was her desire to emotionally connect with him in a way more profound than he does with others. Her presence is her way of asking him to open the door to his heart.

And like the poem said, and what Dusik realized as he was reading it, his staunch gatekeeping betrayed him and he fell in love because of his own stubbornness in refusing to leave his post. He found someone who reliably showed up to his post as dependably as he does. Or rather, she showed up and found him in Gongiin. He was always there to keep his metaphorical door closed, and she was always there to check if it was still closed. Dusik was so sure that gatekeeping would keep him safe, so sure that his constant monitoring and vigilance would keep him protected, that he failed to realize what would happen when he began to rely on his denial. His continued refusal became something reliable in itself, though not because of him, but because of her showing up. After all, what is there to refuse if there is not someone knocking at the door every day? His vigilance betrayed him because he forgot that actively guarding his heart was also keeping his heart active.

Dusik tried to deny Hyejin entrance inside his heart, but then her existence in Gongjin took up space all around him. She became like the sea itself, constant and deep and reflective. And just like Gongjin would feel incomplete without the presence of the sea's waves lapping on its shore, so too is Dusik starting to feel incomplete without Hyejin's assured presence. So much that when she's gone, as he said at his grandpa's memorial ceremony after she left, he misses her so-called noisiness and disruption of his habitual silence. He misses her. Without him realizing it, the silence he used to crave has started to feel like an empty void, and it's no longer silence he seeks. Instead, it's the steady sound of her waves crashing against his shoreline that has started to bring him comfort. Her tides coming and going, leaving bits of herself behind with him and changing his coastline with her presence is more dynamic and interesting than the unvarying landscape of the dry hilltop perch he made for himself.

Dusik's gatekeeping has evolved in that its purpose is no longer about resolute solitude and staying away from others, but about taking up patrol in order to be near her. Subconsciously Dusik found himself willing to abandon his sentry, not even noticing that he was walking away from his guard post and leaving himself wide open to her. This is so interesting coupled with the line Hyejin said a few episodes earlier, "He's always around when you least expect it." Both in that she too unexpectedly became a part of his life like she claimed he did with hers, and also how in some ways the reason he is always present is because he actively finds ways to show up around her and enact his gatekeeping. Just like the lines from the poem, Dusik became the doorkeeper whose "job is to wait for you the next day to deny you. / My job is to wait for you the next day and fall in love with you."

And then Hyejin confessed, and Dusik made the conscious choice to abandon his barricaded doorway to go be with her and kiss her. Because his barricade wasn't worth keeping up if she was baring herself to him so openly and and unguardedly. Isolation and vigilance lost their meaning in the face of the buoyancy he feels when he is with her. Hyejin tried to say that he could leave his door closed. She put her hand up to his mouth, and with that she meant she didn't expect anything in return, that he could leave his door closed, and she would still be there, her feelings unwavering. But her bravery made him brave as well. And he made the active choice to pull back his own door, lower her hand, and kiss her. Now, his doorkeeping is meaningless without her. And after all these years, his carefully cultivated isolation is worthless if it means isolation from embracing Hyejin's presence as well.

The poem said, "denying my love is my job," but Dusik finally realized he was ready to accept more than just denial in this life with Hyejin. He was finally ready to make the active choice to accept someone in his heart again. Hyejin's presence made Dusik acutely aware of the weight of his isolation and he knew it was again time for him to firmly reject something. But this time instead of rejecting another person, instead of rejecting the feelings of reciprocal love, he rejected his own self-isolation. His rejection was in favor of love rather than against it. Hyejin knocked, completely content with the closed door of Dusik's existence, but this time he flung his door open and made the move to kiss her and return her feelings back. His purpose is no longer to deny his love, it's to accept love and give love back to her.

-----

And just in case you wanted to read the poem in full, I've pasted it below:

"Doorkeeper" by Kim Haengsook

It's my job to say, "You shouldn't do this here."

It's my job to deny your purpose.

It's my job to deny you the next day.

It's my job to wait for you the next day to deny you.

My job is to wait for you the next day and fall in love with you.

Thus, denying my love is my job.

I will not cry because of my vocation, he wrote. I cried sometimes when I wrote a diary.

#hometown cha cha cha #kdrama #meta #my meta #homcha meta #also the full poem is under the cut at the very end of this post #once again i am incredibly late with my meta bc i am bad at dedicating time to revising and reformatting for tumblr #this sat in my drafts for DAYS #this meta is long and full of metaphors and the tenses are kind of all over the place but i'm proud of it #me writing better essays on tumblr than i ever did in school lol #fyi the part above the cut is sad but it gets a lot more hopeful at the end once hyejin is introduced

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Two of A Kind

I’ve been focusing on asks a lot lately because of everyone’s awesome ideas, but I saw a Cut video that was similar to this and just couldn’t resist. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentions of sex and endless simping!

“Are you ready?” Marlene asks behind the camera. Kasey sits alone on a stool in the middle of the room, drumming his fingers on his knees.

“Yep. What am I doing again?”

The video cuts, revealing the same room, this time with James Potter on the stool. “You’re going to be answering a few questions,” Marlene explains. “And then we’re also going to be interviewing your wife and comparing your answers.”

“Oh, God,” James laughs. “Okay, hit me with your best shot.”

A title card appears on the screen. First Question: What was your first date?

Remus thinks for a moment. “Like, our first official date, or something that was definitely a date but we were both too dumb to notice?”

“Kasey took me to an ice rink,” Natalie says. She is inexplicably sitting on a folding chair rather than the stool. “We spent about three hours there, drinking cocoa and talking. It was a ton of fun!”

“Ice skating.” Kasey grins. “She told me she could skate, but she had never stepped on the ice in her life.”

“It was at Sid’s.” Sirius smiles to himself. “We had been together for about three months at that point.”

“Remus asked us to define ‘first date’,” Marlene says, sounding amused.

“Is there a different definition that I’m not aware of? We hung out at Sid’s a bunch before we actually got together, but those didn’t qualify as dates.” He pauses. “Looking back, they kind of were dates. We just didn’t know it.”

The video transitions to Lily and James, whose interviews are lined up side-by-side. “Lily took me to get ice cream after we went for a walk in the park,” James answers with a bright smile.

Lily laughs. “Our first date was a disaster. It was twenty-five degrees outside and we got ice cream. I think our brain freezes lasted about three straight minutes, but I had a great time.”

Second Question: When and where was your first kiss?

“Our first kiss happened on our first date,” Natalie says. “Kase caught me when I fell over and I just leaned right in.”

Kasey’s dopey smile makes his eyes crinkle. “At the ice rink. It felt like something out of a movie.”

Lily frowns in thought. “Oh, god, maybe our sixth date? He dropped me off at my apartment and kissed me goodnight.”

“I pulled a move straight from a John Hughes movie.” James grins and stretches his arms out. “Walked her to the door and everything. It was perfect.”

“Pascal Dumais’ basement,” Sirius says with a light laugh. “Which is a surprisingly romantic place.”

“It happened right after Sirius’ birthday party, which I was tricked into attending.” Remus gives the camera a mock-serious look. “Always be suspicious of Pascal Dumais. Always.”

Third Question: Who said ‘I love you’ first, and what was your reaction?

Sirius bites his lip. “I said it first, but only by two seconds. It was a long time coming, to be honest.”

“Sirius said it first.” Remus smiles at the memory. “We were both kind of wrecks at the time, but it was…amazing. I think I just cried harder and kissed him.”

Lily rolls her eyes fondly. “James said it first. We were both super drunk and he just blurted it out in the middle of the club.”

“She ran away!” James practically shouts as the video cuts to him. “I told her I loved her, she gave me this shocked look, and then disappeared! I get a text an hour later saying she caught a cab and went home, and she signs it with ‘love, Lily’. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

Natalie coughs slightly. “Um, I don’t remember who said it first.”

Kasey grins at the camera. “Natalie said she didn’t remember,” Marlene calls.

“Oh, she remembers.”

Fourth Question: How’s your sex life? Anything you can do differently?

Sirius, who was taking a sip of water, chokes. “Excuse me?”

Remus is dead silent for a second, blinking at the camera in shock. “It’s, uh, good.”

“If we gave you some alcohol, would your answer change?” Marlene asks.

“Probably. Does anyone else feel like they’re suddenly in danger?”

“What sex life?” James snorts. “We have a baby. There is no time or energy for anything anymore.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “You think I want him anywhere near me after I just shoved a baby out of my crotch?”

“It’s damn good.” Natalie winks, uncapping her own waterbottle. “Pro tip for anyone looking for a hockey boyfriend: go for the goalies. They’re flexible.”

Kasey is laughing into his hands when his interview appears. “She said that?” he manages. “Oh, Christ.”

Fifth Question: Do you dirty talk?

“Yes.” Kasey and Natalie say at the same time. James winks, and Lily shrugs with a sly smile.

Remus gives the camera crew a disbelieving look. “Are all the questions like this? Were we lulled into a false sense of security?”

“Answer the question, Loops!”

Remus sighs deeply. “On occasion, yes. I’m going to regret saying that.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius says, narrowing his eyes as he sets his water down.

Sixth Question: How well do you sleep?

“Not bad,” Remus says. “Better than I used to, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t sleep,” Lily scoffs. James just looks at the camera and wordlessly gestures to the shadows under his eyes.

“Pretty well,” Natalie muses, slinging one arm around the back of her folding chair.

Sirius nods. “I’d say I sleep well most nights. It’s more comfortable with another person, which was surprising.”

Seventh Question: Why do you feel obligated to share a bed?

“Obligated?” Sirius and Remus say with matching tones of incredulity.

Lily’s smile becomes softer. “I really like sharing a bed. It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh, I love sleeping next to Lily.” James’ gaze turns dreamy. “She smells nice, she’s so warm, and sharing a bed makes childcare much easier when the other person is within reach.”

“You can’t tell her I said this, okay?” Kasey looks around at the camera crew before answering, and his cheeks turn light pink. “Nat’s side of the bed faces east, so if I get up for practice and the sun is rising, she glows a little bit. I dunno, I like it.”

“Kasey is really warm and cuddly.” Natalie says after a moment of thought. “He’s like my own personal heater and I’m never cold if he’s there. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus bites his lip before speaking. “I’m not much of a cuddler, but I sleep better next to Sirius than I ever have before. It’s incredible.”

Sirius cocks his head to the side with a smile. “Hmm. Having someone there to hold, especially someone I care about so much, is the best feeling. If I ever wake up in the middle of the night, he’s just…always there.” He half-shrugs. “It’s sappy, but it’s true.”

Eighth Question: Rate your attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

“Eleven,” Lily and Natalie say in unison, as if it’s obvious.

“I’m going with a solid six,” Remus decides after a moment’s deliberation.

“Eight, maybe?” Kasey answers.

Sirius makes a face. “Six? Seven?”

James is mid-laugh when the video cuts to him. “Um, seven. Lily and I have talked about this before and I got in trouble for saying ten, that’s why I’m laughing. Sorry.”

Ninth Question: Rate your partner’s attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

Not a single one hesitates. “Ten.”

“Remus said he was a solid six,” Marlene says as the camera focuses on Sirius.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What? Where is he? Re!”

“What?” a distant voice shouts back.

“You’re a ten!”

“On what scale?”

“Nat said eleven, didn’t she?” Kasey asks with a grin as the clip changes. “I love it when she does that.”

Final Question: What animal is your partner and why? Give three reasons.

Lily gives Marlene a hard look. “Marley, I love you, but what I say right now needs to stay confidential from my husband.”

Sirius laughs quietly. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for this.”

“Lily is a lioness,” James says immediately. “She’s strong, fierce, and unbelievably brave.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Good question. I’m going to go with a bear, since he’s got a big, tough reputation but he’s all soft inside. He’s a pretty solid guy, too, and he likes cold weather.”

“Nat is one of those really colorful birds,” Kasey says. “The ones with big personalities and the pretty feathers.”

“James is a lion.” Lily thinks for a moment longer. “It’s not just that he plays for the Lions, but he really is one of the bravest people I know. He’s protective of his family and cares a lot about keeping everyone together.”

Remus grins at the camera. “Sirius is a dog, and I will happily tell you why. Number one: he loves going for walks. Number two: he is endlessly loyal to the people he cares for. Number three: peanut butter.”

“So, Re is either a cat or a dog, and I really can’t choose.” Sirius’ eyebrows draw together in thought.

“You can choose both if you have reasons,” Marlene calls behind the camera.

“Really? Alright, he’s a dog because he’s friendly, loyal, and brings people trinkets as gifts. Um, I don’t have a legitimate reason for the cat one, but do any of you know that one vine with the cat that’s being dragged around on a leash?”

The camera crew bursts out laughing, and a small picture of the cat appears in the upper left of the screen.

“Anyone who has tried to pick Remus up knows that he looks exactly like that. Goes completely limp, it’s the funniest fucking thing.”

The video cuts to Remus, who raises his eyebrows. “He said what?”

The title card appears and Marlene’s voiceover begins. “Thanks for watching, Lions! Special thanks to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James and Lily Potter, Natalie Darcy, and Kasey Winter for being with us today. Like and subscribe for more!”

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #kasey winter #natalie darcy #marlene mckinnon #social media #sweater weather #coops #jily #kat #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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raelikestoramble · 3 years

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yesssss, I'm still trying to recover from the finale... Can you do an story w Eddie pining for Buck after his break up w Ana? Like he releaized his feelings for Buck after getting shot and almost dying but Buck is together w Tyler? Please and thank youuuu

AN: Sorry, this got away from me and I wrote more than I thought I would! Thanks for the great prompt, I really loved it but wasn’t sure where to take it, so a lot of this is Eddie’s internal thoughts. Hope you still like it!

Eddie hadn’t meant for it to go on for as long as it did. Truly, he hadn’t – time had a funny habit of slipping away from him as of late; in his recovery, what mattered most to him was getting himself back to normal – or as close as he could ever return to, given what he had been through – and keeping life as stable as possible… for Christopher. No big changes, no upsetting surprises.

That thought did little to ease the lingering sense of guilt, though.

It had been only a few days since Eddie finally sat Ana down to, as delicately as he could, say that their time together was coming to a close.

She had been so lovely about it, too, because that was her nature and it had made having to break it off worse, almost. Ana was kind, sweet, understanding – perfectly nice – and, for all those reasons, she deserved better, a lot more; someone who was completely in it for her, as invested in her as she was in them. He didn’t always realise it, but he knew for a while before he broke it off that he couldn’t be that person for Ana. In time, another would be. He was sure of it.

He had felt, much to his embarrassment, tears burning his eyes as he explained to her that he entered a relationship with her for the wrong reasons… and that he had so much to figure out about himself. She had clasped his hand in hers, gave a watery smile, and told him that she understood; she had even reassured him that it was all okay and he didn’t need to be too hard on himself over it. It was the most amicable split he could’ve imagined happening. With guilt, came the sweetness of relief, an acute light feeling that he didn’t notice was missing for the longest time.

And then, once that was over and the dust had settled… he was free. Free to… wallow, he supposed, in what he had realised weeks ago, because there was nothing that Eddie could do about it.

He remembered how it felt, being disoriented, in pain, slipping from consciousness, with those blue eyes boring into his, wide and frantic, as Buck fought hard for him, for his very life. How it felt afterwards seeing his face come into view from around the corner, smiling at him with such a genuine and unfiltered joy. Warmth, safety, and happiness – because Buck was family, that much he had decided to make official in a legal tie a year ago.

It was the overwhelming feeling of love, and relief in seeing him safe, unharmed and by his side the first chance he got, that sent Eddie’s mind reeling and down a path he couldn’t back out from. Buck was all of that to him, and more, and the feeling of longing had burrowed into Eddie’s mind, becoming a nagging and persistent sensation that made him feel… sick, flustered, and even morose.

Love – romantic and sexual love - for Eddie had always been a struggle, had wound up feeling oddly… unnatural, as though he was following the expectations of others, or his own idea of familial obligation, rather than his own heart. He was chasing something that, by all accounts, should have felt right, but with Ana… and even with Shannon, it was wrong; it all fell flat in some way. Finally becoming aware of the different light in which he saw Buck in was like a piece of himself just clicking into place; he felt whole, finally.

It was more than a little inconvenient, though, realising that he was in love with his best friend… someone that he happened to see pretty much every day, either at work or off shift. His very straight, very happily coupled up best friend. It was a lot to wrap his head around.

Of course, Eddie was being very mature about it, something he could find a small bit of pride in – because he knew he needed to get over this, to respect Buck’s happiness, his relationship with Taylor, and not ruin their friendship by foolishly expressing what he really wanted. That was the respectable, adult thing to do. So, he kept his desire quiet, and he tried his best to be the good, supportive friend Buck knew him to be, but… in a small way, he had pulled back; he knew he had. Sometimes, Eddie was allowed to act to protect himself; allowed to be a touch selfish. To get over it, he needed a bit more space than usual. It was only fair.

“Eddie,” came Hen’s voice unexpectedly; he picked up instantly on the concerned undertone.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her furrowed brows and the frown lines on her face. He wished people would stop looking at him like that – like he was to be pitied, like he was still injured and helpless. The whole team all went through their fair share of ordeals… it seemed part of the job description, but there was something about the sniper targeting them that unnerved everybody more than anything else that they had faced before. It had struck Eddie’s core, too, and brought up a lot of ugly, old wounds - he was giving therapy another try because of it… and it was going better than it had before, to his surprise.

It had been months since he was shot, significant progress had been made, but there was still an unspoken tension in the firehouse at times. It was especially bad with Buck – he had pulled closer than ever, always happy, eager even, to offer his support and help in… everything, which made Eddie’s need for maintaining some space between them all the more difficult. It also gave him a sliver of hope, and that was a dangerous thing. He had grown too dependent on Buck; he had someone else to share him with now, he thought with a pang to his chest.

“Yeah?” he returned tiredly after a delay, still staring ahead.

His gaze was fixed on where Buck was sat a small distance away with Chimney by his side, his head thrown back laughing in a moment that ought to be captured in a photograph – oh, and how that beautiful, jubilant sound leaving his mouth twisted mercilessly at Eddie’s insides.

“You’ve been moving that piece of pasta around your bowl for the last ten minutes.”

“… So I have,” he sighed, letting his fork clatter against the plate in defeat.

He’d barely touched his lunch, but his appetite had been culled. Buck’s voice was loud – it carried effortlessly across the room. So, he easily overheard Buck responding to Chimney bringing up the topic of Taylor, and it was… embarrassing, the impact it had, how easily it soured his mood.

“Is that all I get? It’s ‘going well’?” Chimney exclaimed, nudging Buck’s side, a teasing grin on his face. “C’mon, Buckley. We usually can’t get you to shut up.”

Buck laughed bashfully and lifted his head up, almost catching his eye, but Eddie averted his gaze just in time to miss it. He could’ve sworn that he caught the sight of Buck’s smile faltering. He shook his head, working to tune out that conversation as best he could.

“You know… it’s okay to need more time. If you’re not ready to be back yet, no one will think less of you,” Hen suggested hesitantly, voice soft.

“No, it’s-- not that. I’m glad to be back. This is where I need to be,” he said simply.

Eddie didn’t like where this conversation was headed – but none of it broke through to his expression, and so Hen pushed on, sympathy etched into her features.

“Then… tell me what’s bothering you? You seem down, Eddie – a lot, lately – and I can’t sit here and act like I’m not worried.”

Had it really been that obvious? It was like he, a man in his thirties, had been rendered a hapless, lovestruck teenager – with how he let his feelings for Buck affect him so obviously that Hen had not only noticed but grown worried for him. It was so tragic he could almost laugh.

“Mm, I have a therapist for that,” he said with a wry smile, but instantly regretted it as he saw how Hen leant back in her seat, lips twisting into a frown.

She was trying to help, to be a good friend, and he was dismissive of her attempt right away. His tendency to try to avoid more heavy, emotional talks was one of the issues brought up in therapy and he really was working on it, but it felt impossible, in that moment, to tell the truth, to speak the words aloud to somebody else. Even though he knew Hen would, without a doubt, understand and keep his secret for him – that it might even help for her to know, as awkward and humiliating as it might be at first.

“Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He dared to look back over to the corner where Buck was – now, he was showing Chimney pictures on his phone, which were undoubtedly of him and Taylor. Jealousy welled up inside of Eddie, burning hot, and another sigh fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to run down the side of his face. It wasn’t getting easier, only more frustrating.

When he glanced back at Hen, she was already watching him, an odd look on her face, eyes slowly widening. Realisation had already dawned before he could interject and divert the conversation.

“Wait. You-- Buck--?” she started.

Panic enveloped Eddie and, before she could go any further, he abruptly sprang to his feet, hands clasped together.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly.

Without waiting for her to give an answer, he made his escape, darting over to the countertop where the coffee pot was located. After a short pause, he noticed that Hen had made no effort to follow him, because – of course she hadn’t. What was he expecting? Her to run after him, get him into a headlock until he confessed to the revelation that he had that he was head over heels for Evan Buckley? No, this wasn’t a playground. He needed to get a grip.

His shoulders slumped as he expelled a heavy breath out into the air. He gave himself another moment, to allow his heart to stop pounding wildly in his chest, before leaning up to grab a clean mug from the cabinet.

“That was awful,” he muttered to himself, swiping his favourite from the shelf.

“What was awful?” asked Buck, suddenly, appearing at his side.

“Oh, God,” Eddie jumped, and the mug almost slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Catching it and clutching at it, Eddie gave a breathless laugh.

“Nope, just me,” Buck countered, popping the ‘p’, with a toothy grin on display that caused Eddie’s stomach to start doing flips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie’s expression softened, the hints of anxiety vanishing from his face as he lowered the mug to the surface. He reached for another, automatically, eyes still on Buck. He really was beautiful to look at, all bright, excited eyes, soft dark blonde curls, and crooked smiles – and what was most unfair about it all was that his good looks weren’t the most beautiful thing about him by a long shot.

“I’ll let you off the hook,” he grinned.

Buck leaned forward and his shoulder brushed against Eddie’s, sending a jolt through him that made him step back, the contact quickly lost. Fortunately for him, Buck didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

“So, anyway, I was wondering – you got any plans tonight?” Buck asked cheerily.

Eddie was slow to smile again, but he did, because he knew what he was about to do – give in, so easily. Space was important, but… so was spending quality time with loved ones. He could practically hear his therapist’s voice offering him encouragement.

“I think I have a spot open in my schedule,” he said slowly, giving the impression of nonchalance.

“Great! What do you say to joining me and Taylor out for drinks tonight? You could bring Ana. I think it’d be good for them to start to get to know each other better, don’t you?”

Eddie’s heart sank in his chest, eyes closing for a few seconds before he plastered a placid smile to his face. Disappointment was such a bitter taste, and… he really needed to get around to telling him about Ana. Even if he and Ana were still together and he could agree to this double date, the thought of watching Buck and Taylor together for a whole night… well, he could think of a long list of things he’d rather do instead.

“Actually, I don’t think I can – I don’t know how it slipped my mind but, after my appointment, I promised Christopher that I’d spend the night with him…”

He felt bad using his own son, someone Buck loved dearly, as a shield, but it had to be done – Buck wouldn’t question anything if it was done for Chris’ benefit.

Buck’s smile strained, and there was a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Eddie caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“Well, what about next Friday?”

“I can’t—”

“Man, I… Eddie, have I done something?” Buck interrupted; brows knit together in worry.

“Sorry?”

He looked vaguely embarrassed – and was that a pink tinge to his face? Surely not. No, Eddie was seeing things he wanted to see. He didn’t want to play that guessing game anymore, reading into every little interaction they shared, for some kind of sign. It was exhausting.

“It’s just… I don’t know, you’re a lot busier than before, maybe, but things are definitely… different. I—miss you,” he admitted sheepishly.

Clearly, this had been bothering him for a while now, and Eddie felt stupid and cruel for ever thinking that Buck wouldn’t notice that he was limiting their time together, even if only by a relatively small amount.

“Things are different,” Eddie explained carefully, trying to figure out his wording. “It makes sense that we, er, aren’t spending as much time together, because…”

Buck waved a hand.

“I know I’ve got Taylor now and you’ve got Ana, but that doesn’t mean that—”

“Buck, I ended things with Ana,” Eddie cut across impulsively.

There was an incredibly still moment that followed, and a tense quiet descended upon them, the only sounds the muffled comings and goings and odd background chatter from their other teammates. Buck’s lips parted and he appeared to be frozen as he slowly computed this information, and Eddie was almost scared to move – to break the spell.

It was getting alarming, and Eddie was about to wave a hand in front of his face, until finally he returned to reality, snapping back with a quiet and bemused, “Wait, you did what? … Why? You two seemed so happy. I thought you… that’s why…”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, taking in a breath as he turned to properly face Buck again, making direct eye contact. Buck wet his lip, a crease forming in his brow. Eddie wanted nothing more than to know what was going through his mind, but he was at a loss this time. Usually, he could read him so well.

Eddie shrugged – an attempt in vain to still appear casual. He knew he was way beyond that point now.

“I realised she wasn’t the one for me. And… I know everyone says it, and us first responders more than anyone, and we still sometimes forget to actually live by it… but life really is too short to spend with the wrong person. I owed it to her, and to myself, to end it.”

Buck blinked rapidly, and, really, Eddie couldn’t understand why this was all coming as such a shock to him. Had he really expected he and Ana to go the distance? For him to settle down with her?

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

Then, the wailing of the siren pierced through the air; whatever question had formed in Buck’s mind would have to remain there, until another time.

#buddie #buddie ficlet #buddie fic #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #henrietta wilson #evan buckley #911 fox #answered prompt

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bugabisous · 4 years

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Chameleon - Adrien Sugar

Yes. You read that right. I’m writing Adrien sugar related to the episode that gave birth to, like, 80% of the fandom salt. I’ll keep this short and to the point, mostly because I believe I don’t need to talk too much to get my point across.

I’ll put everything under the cut to avoid cluttering dashboards. Below the cut you’ll find: Reasons why Adrien’s advice wasn’t as misguided as salters some people make it out to be:

First of all we gotta remember that, prior to Chameleon, our Resident Liar hadn’t done anything too dangerous (that they know of). So, from Adrien’s POV she’s just a girl who’s lying to get attention and make friends. He doesn’t see her as malicious. Remember that he never saw Liela steal his book and throw it away. We saw it, and Marinette saw it, but Adrien did not.

Even so, he’s still not comfortable around her. He gives her the benefit of the doubt, that’s all.

See? He’s not exactly happy or comfortable around her. He’s just not vocal about her being a liar like Marinette is.

You know what else Adrien has no idea happened?

This. Marinette never mentioned the fact that Liela had threatened her in the bathroom to anyone, not even Adrien. I am positive that if he knew this, he would stepped in from this moment.

He still believes she’s doing this in a misguided attempt to fit in, considering that he tells her in this episode: “I’m not judging you, Liela, but instead of making friends you’re going to turn everyone against you. You can tell me if there’s something bothering you. I can help. But you need to be honest with me.”

So, now that we know what is Adrien’s understanding of the situation, it’s easier to see why he gave the advice he gave. Because, see, if Liela truly was only lying for attention and not to hurt others, then calling her out would indeed only make her lash out and it wouldn’t be necessary because he believes that once she fits in with the class and feels accepted she’ll stop. Naive? Yes. But he’s not wrong. Lots of kids lie to try to fit in a stop doing so once they make friends, and they even come clean most of the times. Adrien has no way of knowing that Miss Liar over here is not one of these cases, because he doesn’t have the same knowledge that Marinette or the audience have.

This line is often misinterpreted. It was always very clear to me that he meant is as, “As long as you and I both know she’s lying, we can always be there for each other.” - Which Ladybug the episode proved.

Before diving into that episode, though, I gotta talk about Oni-chan. Because it’s in Oni-chan that Liela shows her malicious side to Adrien. He sees her lying to manipulate her way into his house (”You didn’t ask nicely, you lied, Liela,”).

Even Plagg asks him, “Why are you so nice to that girl? She lies with every breath and snoops through your drawers as soon as your back’s turned.”

And his reply is, still, “Perhaps she’s just looking to be a little less lonely.”

That’s his fatal flaw when it comes to Liela. He still wants to see the best in her. But that will stop soon, because...

He sees how she asks about Kagami and then inmediately after forces him to take this picture:

which she sends to everyone, resulting in Kagami’s second akumatization.

Oni-chan: I’ll protect you from Liela.

Adrien: She’s not dangerous. She just craves attention.

Oh, sweet Adrien, she craves attention alright. But she is dangerous. You’ll realize.

“You just wanted me to leave Ladybug alone with the villain? You hate Ladybug… that much? (…) What you just did is really terrible. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

That’s his wake up call. Liela’s lies are dangerous.

“Keep an eye on Lila. She’s as sly as a fox.”

Now, the end of the episode. Adrien is understandably mad at Liela because Nathalie and Gorilla got in trouble because of her.

“Lila, you can always count on me. But not if you hurt the people I love.”

Now. This is Adrien’s warning. And having Adrien’s warning in mind, we can go into Ladybug, the episode.

It’s fair to assume that Liela didn’t try anything serious against Marinette between the events of Oni-Chan and Ladybug. Why? Because she was planning her master plan, of course, that she was about to execute.

We all know how it goes, Marinette answered everything correctly, Liela planted the answers in her backpack, Alya mentions that Marinette always scores high in Miss Bustier’s tests, etc.

Liela inserts herself in the conversation, taunting Marinette and making her look as if she’s the one with an unreasonable vendetta against her and not the other way around, probably so the class doesn’t rally behind Marinette in support. But there’s someone that knows what kind of person Miss Lying Liar Who Lies is. That person is Adrien.

Who, in a very polite manner, redirects the conversation away from the Liela-Marinette showdown and into the thing that matters: Marinette is not a cheat. Everyone agrees with him and starts supporting Marinette.

Then we have the whole thing with the stairs and the leg and we jump into the stealing accusation. Where, again, it’s made clear that Marinette understood what a lot of the fandom failed to understand: That Adrien is there to support her.

She directly addresses him looking for support. She knows he’ll have her back. And he does, he glares at Liela and decides to intervene. The fact that he’s silenced by an incompetent principal isn’t his fault, he has spoken out in Marinette’s defense twice already - to authority figures. We know how much Adrien respects authority figures. But he still spoke up to defend her.

We don’t see Adrien’s reaction to Marinette nearly being akumatized. But what we know is that following the events of the day, after the fight with HM and Mayura is over, he basically makes a deal with the devil to get Marinette back in school.

I don’t think Adrien has ever been or sounded angrier that he did at that moment. He warned Liela once already [that she shouldn’t hurt the people he loves], and now she has to either get Marinette back in school or she’s going to officially make an enemy out of him.

All of this just amounts to one thing: His advice during Chameleon wasn’t just advice, it was a promise that he backed up with his actions later on. It was basically the civilian equivalent of:

“It’s you and me against the world, my lady.”

Bug out!

#adrien agreste #adrien sugar #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrienette #meta #mine #all gifs and screenshots were made/taken by me btw #it's been so long since my last meta huh

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write-orflight · 4 years

Text

Galileo: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader, enemies to friends to lovers trope

Rating: M

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: None right now. but will eventually be smut.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is an astronomer with her head constantly in the stars. But when a serial killer is threatening NASA’s top scientists, she is left in the protective custody of a man who’s gravitational pull threatens to pull her back down to earth.

A.N: I made the reader jewish (or from a jewish family really) for reasons I don’t even know. Message to be added to the taglist! Much love, Cia

Chapter 1: Venus

Spencer never really “understood” women but he thought in the passing years he got at least, a better understanding.

He still, however, didn’t understand you or your clear adverse feelings for him. Spencer immediately thought to do what he did in most situations when he didn’t understand people. He profiled them.

He watched you from across the room, seated in a barstool height chair so you could look into the telescope, legs crossed as you scribbled into a notepad placed on your right thigh. No ring or any form of jewelry, Which most likely meant no significant other. Your work space was clear devoid of any pictures or sentimentals except for one small photo of you and Victim #4, clearly at a bar of some sort. He looks completely in his element while you look slightly uncomfortable. You’re both smiling brightly though he’s looking straight at the camera while you’re slightly looking up at him. That, how none of his desk or items were cleared, and how you seemed to move around his stuff like you were used to the routine of it all told Spencer what he needed to know.

“Were you dating your coworker?” Spencer asked. You stopped in your track on your way to one of the chalkboards you set up for equations. Dr. Cliff often told you it was so outdated but you preferred to do things right yourself not let a computer decide for you. You leveled a heated look to Spencer.

“Excuse me?”

“Your partner, Jonathan Brewer.” Spencer pointed out. “You didn’t say in your initial interview that you were dating. If that was the case, that’s something we need to know. It could help find his kille--”

“We. Weren’t. Dating.” You say, angrily. Spencer almost flinches at the pure venom that is seeping out of your voice. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, by the way. Everything I already told your agents was the truth. He was my best friend, My only friend, and now he’s dead. Please do not distract me from my work with idiotic questions again.” You turn away from him, going back to your math.

How dare he pretend to know anything about you and Jon. What a fucking pretentious asshole. Accusing you of sleeping with Jonathan, not that you didn’t want to… or didn’t at least think about it. You never got to tell Jonathan how you really felt about him, how he had the unfiltered ability to make the room feel lighter like you were in the zero gravity chamber, or how every shoulder press, hand on your back as he passed by, bright smiles from across the room while he did the math and you tracked Gaia would feel like lightning down your nervous system.

You never got to tell him you were in love with him.

And now you never will.

You knew you were only angry at Spencer because he was able to clock you on what never occurred to Jonathan the year you’d known him in an hour of knowing you but in the end it was none of his business and he had absolutely no right.

Thankfully, he had learned silence was a virtue and didn’t say anything the rest of the night, opting to read some of the books you had around. You stretched as you stood from your desk grabbing your bags to head out the door. Spencer also notices this and follows suit.

“What’re you doing?” You ask as he’s following you out the door.

“I’m your protective custody which means, I’m with you always, not just at work.” He says, awkwardly. “Did Dr. Clifton not explain?”

“No, he did not...” You trail off. “Fine, come on.” You say going to your car, Spencer automatically climbs into the passenger seat and you drive home in silence.

When you arrive at your apartment, the cat greets you with beady eyes from the top of his cat tower.

“You know some people’s cats greet them at the door.” You say, approaching the tower to pet him, he purrs and pushes his head into your palm. You turn back to Spencer who is standing awkwardly by the door. “The sofa folds out if you want to take that, I guess I’ll bring you a blanket and pillow.” Spencer watches as you disappear from the room to give him the items you just said. “Don’t be confused if Alfonso is next to you when you wake up, the couch is his spot.”

“Alfonso?”

You gester to the cat. “Context clues, might help you out someday.” You say sarcastically. “I’m going to shower.” You brush past him on the way to what seemed to be your only sanctuary away from the doctor.

Spencer takes this time to survey your apartment, making sure there’s no way for someone to break in without his knowledge. He pulls out the sofa bed and almost like clockwork, the small cat moved from his tower onto the corner of the couch and slept. Spencer also looked around the apartment like he would with any victim, though you weren’t one yet, he still had to figure out why you’re specifically being targeted. But he couldn’t get a gage of who you are because there was nothing that said who you were in this house. Living room was obviously designed by an interior designer, the kitchen was neat only things on the counter were a coffee maker, kettle and a stand mixer. Different plants lined your balcony along with a small telescope. The only thing he could get a reading on was that you lived here, you had a cat, and that maybe you baked.

“Mom, I’m fine.” Spencer hears, he turns toward the bathroom to see you exiting in a pair of pajama shorts and a large Georgetown University sweater. He knew you didn’t go there but Victim #4 did, he could only assume it was his sweater. “Obviously I’m not in danger, we’re talking on the phone.” He watches you pause and roll your eyes. “No mom, this isn’t an elaborate hostage call. I told you to stop watching true crime before bed.” Spencer tries not to listen to the conversation, he really does. But it’s been a while since he’s been able to have a normal conversation like this with his mom. So of course that made him a tad jealous.

“Mom it’s almost 7am. I should really sleep…. for the last time, mom, I have to work at night my job is to watch planets…. You’re right I’m probably not going to find a husband this way, but I also don’t want one…. I do not need a yenta, Ma! Now I really have to go, give my best to dad.” You say, hanging up. Spencer watches you groan in frustration.

“God, can you believe that woman! I love her to death but I don’t need a fucking matchmaker, there’s a serial killer after me for god’s sake! Dating should be her last concern—“ You cut off realizing you’re ranting to a man who’s just met you and that you also despise. “You don’t give a shit about this.” You say, Spencer just tilts his head at you. You roll your eyes. “Goodnight.” You say, closing your bedroom door quickly.

Some things stayed the same though because as soon as you hit your pillow, you were deeply asleep.

———————————————-

Spencer wakes up in the late afternoon to the cat sprinting across his body. He opens his eyes a little to see you placing food and water in a bowl. You pet him briefly before letting him eat and then you sit at the dining table with a hot mug in your hand.

“You made coffee?” Spencer asked, groggily.

“Yes.” You say, obviously.

“The pot is empty…”

“I didn’t say I made some for you.” You looked at him. “I’m sure, they taught you how to use a coffee maker in the academy.”

With that you turn away from him, back to the book you were reading. Spencer rolls his eyes but makes the coffee anyway, he knew if the entire day was going to be like this he’d need it.

“You know, this would probably be easier if you would stop fighting me at every turn. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. There's no point in arguing constantly.”

“No, what would make it easier is if you caught the serial killer, so I could have my apartment back.” You say, rolling your eyes.

Spencer just throws his arms up. He tried, he’s officially giving up trying to find common ground with this she-devil. He grabs his phone and steps into the hall for a second.

“Oracle of Quantico, speak and be heard.” He hears Penelope say over the line. He sighs in relief at the tone of his friend.

“Garcia, do you know if the others have found anything on this case yet?” He says.

“No dice, my friend. Far as I know they’re still doing victimology. You know I would call you if we found anything out. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just… trying to gage how long this’ll be.”

“Jesus Spencer, it’s been one day. It can’t be that bad.”

“It can, Garcia, this woman….she hates me. And I don’t know why.”

“Well what did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn—”

“Spencer…” Penelope said in an almost scolding tone.

“I may have… accused her of dating Victim #4.”

“Jonathan Brewer, her coworker. Why would you do that?”

Spencer tells her of the things he’s found in her office as well as her sweater this morning and Garcia cuts him off.

“Ok, I’ve heard enough.” Garcia says. “Spencer, I may not be a profiler but I understand women, especially smart, nerdy women. So you told me she has a picture of them on her desk and that she still hasn’t cleared his desk?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see any pictures of her on his desk?”

“No.”

“And you already know from when we went to his apartment, there were no photos of her there either.” Penelope says, like it’s kinda obvious. “So combine that with the sweater and everything else what do you get?”

“She was in love with him....” Spencer says, confused why it took him this long to get it. “And it wasn’t reciprocated…”

“Points to Ravenclaw.” Penelope says. “Now you’re already a constant reminder that she’s lost someone, so bringing it up every second and accusing her of lying probably isn’t helping. She probably isn’t even angry at you, she’s just grieving, let her do that.”

“You’re right, Garcia.” He sighs.

“I always am. Adieu.” She says hanging up. Spencer re-enters the apartment and sees you sitting in a chair next to the window reading, he notes that you are dressed for work. You were wearing a knee length black pencil skirt with a mint green blouse. All tied together with your floor length lab coat that held your badge. Your hair was tied in a high bun and round rimmed glasses adorned your face. Spencer hated to say it but he wasn’t blind, you were breath-taking.

“I’m leaving in 45 minutes, if you want to put on something less… firetruck-y.” Spencer looked down and he was still wearing his Pajama pants that had a pattern of fire trucks on them.

Well, she was breath-taking until she opened her mouth.

Spencer just sighed and went to change.

The two of you drove to the office in silence, the only sound being classical music playing through her speakers. You put the car in park and you start to get out when you feel a hand circle your wrist you pull your arm back and look at the man in disgust.

“Wait before you get out.” Spencer says looking you in the eye. “I wanted to apologize for making accusations about your relationship with Jonathan. It was not my place to do that.”

“It wasn’t.” You say.

“I know. I’m sorry… we’re going to be with each other constantly until we find his killer so I don’t want to fight everyday. Friends?” He says offering his hand for her to shake. Spencer didn’t like shaking hands but if it would show her he was serious he’d do it.

“I appreciate the apology but we’re only working together briefly, there’s no reason for us to be friends. Colleagues.” She agrees, looking at his hand but not shaking it. Just choosing to get out of the car without another word.

God, you were not going to make this easy. Spencer knew that for a fact.

#spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader smut #bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years

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1)I think that grrm is straight up writing a love story calling rhaegar love struck, him saying lyanna his last word, calling that loveshack tower of joy etc I don't think there's anything to read b/w the lines. Him crowning her qol&b was a political move to show Brandon that he was aware of southron ambitions & to back off with the alliance. I am sure there was mutual attraction b/w R & L and he crowned her for admiration too. But I don't think they fell in love nor do I believe they had any pl

2) plans to elope. I think he rescues her from kings's guards & keeps her hostage/leverage against southron alliance. He wanted to break L's engagement to Bobby to destroy STAB alliance. He also comes to know that brandon went along with his wedding to cat despite his warning at harrenhal. They fall in love during their journey to dorne wherein he comes to know that Elia & kids are hostage. Martells will ask him to give up lyanna. So they hide to protect her from aerys, Robert & martells.

Hi anon!

I actually like the first part of your ask because it adds a modicum of depth to Rhaegar's moves at Harrenhal, and acknowledges the way the Stark-Tully-Arryn-Baratheon Alliance formed an unsubtly threatening block against the Targs by literally encircling the Crownlands. (Though a better explanation is an attempt to acknowledge, rather than threaten, Rickard's and Jon's and Hoster's scheme.)

Where I think it is less solid is a couple of other points.

1) It erases the role of the prophecy that more than one source describes as very important to not just Rhaegar but the Targ monarchy as a whole ever since Jenny of Oldstones. Rhaegar and Aemon were exchanging letters about it as late as after Aegon’s birth, i.e. when Rhaegar was readying to abandon Elia after she almost died in childbirth.

Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. (AFFC, Samwell IV)

2) It's a terrible plan in its conception and even worse in its execution. There’s a four-kingdom conspiracy going on, and Daddy Aerys just managed to piss off a fifth by snatching Jaime, and Rhaegar’s bright move with the flower crown is doing everything to convince the entire Realm that he is slightly unhinged himself.

As far as messages go, it’s completely ambiguious. Handing Lyanna the crown means.. he wants to kidnap her if Brandon marries Catelyn? Did he send him a secret letter to go with the gesture, or was Brandon supposed to read that between the lines?

Plus, “threatening” the heir Brandon is pretty pointless when it’s the father generation pulling the strings. The only relevant “head of a House” there present was Robert, his cousin, whom he had just succeeded in deeply angering. Not to mention confusing a sixth kingdom he depends on (Dorne). It doesn't break the alliance, it solidifies it.

(Also, why on earth doesn’t House Stark properly protect Lyanna after this threat?)

Worse, when this fool-proof threat doesn’t have the desired effect, he does kidnap Lyanna to make her a hostage to force the Alliance to comply - except not only does he fail to tell her family, or to take her to KL, where she would be a “guest” of the official crown, he makes her his personal prisoner (once more proving he is as unhinged as Aerys) and drags her to... Dorne? Without telling anyone about it? And doesn’t rear his head again for months while the situation devolves into a Rebellion because obviously the kidnapped girl caused an uproar and he left Aerys to deal with it?

3) Rhaegar’s reason for suddenly abandoning his terrible but complex, time-sensitive and high-stakes plan is a sudden case of “in mutual love” with his teenaged kidnap victim? He just drops all of it in order to shack up with a fifteen-year-old in the middle of nowhere? He is scared House Martell will take his widdle mistress away while the kingdom is going up in flames? Really?

4) It makes Lyanna an absolute imbecile. Why would she fall in love with her kidnapper, who has a wife and children? She's 14/15 and he's eight years older and has demonstrated his gross lack of respect for her family and her values. What? This is not a “love story” at all. It’s two imbeciles absolutely out of touch with reality for no reason at all.

5) There's an easier explanation for GRRM describing him as love-struck: he can't say anything else without inviting questions. RLJ is still supposedly a secret, and there is no logical explanation for Rhaegar kidnapping a girl and then hiding her. The illogical explanations are "love", or the explicit secret intention of creating that third head of the dragon. Love is one of the un-universe explanations, and the easiest obfuscating answer GRRM can give. Plus, for all we know, Rhaegar himself did develop a creepy attraction to Lyanna. Something must have motivated him to choose her. But we don’t even know which name he whispered while he died. It’s implied but never explicitly stated that it was Lyanna. For all we know it was something entirely else.

This theory makes Rhaegar look even worse than the concept of his prophecy obsession. That one is, at least, consistent with itself, while this theory hinges on him being dumb as rocks and both so zealous as to start this confrontation and then so disinterested as to drop it entirely and achieve the exact opposite of his original intention, until he half-heartedly rides forth to fight and die at the Trident. (Why not just run off with Lyanna if he didn’t care abut any of it?)

There is no internal logic, and no motivation for this “love” that supposedly makes it a “love story”. So... no, I don’t think this makes any sense.

#anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti rhaegar targaryen #Tourney at Harrenhal #robert's rebellion #rlj #prophecy

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wastelandlovingscenarios · 3 years

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Romanced!companions react to their precious fem!sole survivor getting slapped or strikes by an npc right in front of them? Can we categorize this; who would be the violent/threatening/just angry group? >:^0

omg, i’m pretty sure none of them would be remotely calm if that happened... but damn imagine the outcome of that poor npc. they lived a good life. this was a short request while i work on like 7 other ones, LOL.

thank you for requesting and please enjoy!

the next request i’m posting is gonna be a react that turned out a little longer than i expected so buckle up. 🤠

Danse:

violent/threatening

danse would for sure fall under the violent criteria of this situation. he already has one foot in the door once someone dares to go too close to sole, but hit her? that’s a totally different story for another day. that person better be praying to some god out there to give them mercy cause danse knows he won’t. the minute he hears that slap on soles face, it will trigger him to attack without a word. and to answer the question; does danse need a gun to do the job? absolutely not. those muscles are not just for show after all. no matter how many people hold him back, he will always fight his way through the crowd of people and beat the living fuck out of the person, even if they’re begging for him to stop. he won’t even realize the damage he’s done until after and won’t regret it either way, knowing that it was well deserved on their case. now if it was a situation where it was shoving or showing signs of starting a fight with his beloved, he’d step right in front of them and stare them down angrily with the biggest scowl ever. in some cases, that’s more than enough to scare most people off towards the other direction but in a few, he’s forced to threaten them. “i advise you step away unless you desire for this situation to escalate into something that involves solely you and i.” no one will ever be a threat to sole on his watch and he will make sure that nothing will stop him from protecting her.

Deacon:

threatening mixed with violence (depending the intensity of the situation)

deacons nice. he’s really laid back in most situations and is more than willing to let things go if he feels like it’s not worth the trouble. following that, deacons nice to a certain point and if you cross that point? consider yourself on his hitlist for the rest of your life. the intensity of the situation will determine how he’ll react towards it. if the person were to do as simple as shove sole, he’d keep an eye on them and say something within the lines of, “woah, woah, take it easy.” now if it was something like a slap or a punch, he wouldn’t even let it happen, not while he’s around. deacon would have fast enough reflexes to catch their wrist and he’d grip it enough to leave a mark, a displeased expression on his face. he’d even go as far as making jokes with an evil smile, such as, “oops my hand slipped,” or “oh you dropped this,” and proceed to deck the person as hard as he can with his free hand, not caring whether or not he knocks them unconscious. after that incident, he’d constantly terrorize the poor individual, often pulling pranks on them without any breaks. sometimes, he’d even go near them and speak in a happy tone while patting their back in a manner where it seemed a little too friendly.

Maccready:

threatening

mac is aware he’s not muscular nor is he made for fighting, which is why he sticks with guns during most situations. hes a lanky man and gets intimidated a little easier than most people, knowing that many of them could take him down with something as simple as a punch. it’s easier to say he’s more confident with a gun in his hand in these instances. despite his weaknesses, he would not hesitate to step up, knowing that hes unable to control his anger. he’d immediately point the gun at the persons temple and cock it just for intimidation purposes, but knows that he’s more than willing to pull the trigger if he needs to. it benefits him and the commonwealth more than damages it, seeing that this world needs one less asshole living it in, so who is he to care if this person dies or not? he’d slowly press it harder against the persons head, angrily speaking, “back away now.” if the person does so, he’ll gladly let them walk away without an injury and instead tend to sole. he wouldn’t let them go without some snarky comment like, “yeah keep walking and please let the door hit you on the way out.” if they refuse to move away from sole though, he’d gladly take the butt of his gun and smack it against their temple within seconds, completely ignoring the persons body knocked out on the floor. mac would get sole up and out of there as soon as he can, complaining under his breath about how much of that guy was an asshole and how he shouldve shot him.

Hancock:

violent group

consider one thing; that this person who fucked over his lover is beyond dead in his eyes. no one touches his sunshine, and if they dared to? theyll be wishing they hadn’t. hancock can quickly become someone’s friend, but the same can be said if it were an enemy. if he’s willing to stab someone for getting even a little too chummy and touchy with sole, imagine what he’d do if they dared to inflict pain on them. depending on where they are, like a bar for instance, he’d grab a glass bottle and crack it on the guys head, pushing him down on the floor without another word. using his shotgun, he’d make sure he’d put a few bullets through his body before he decides he’s completely satisfied with the new makeover he’s given them. now if he was in a more violent mood and was definitely not having it, he’d want to have their blood on his hands and wouldn’t care if it stained his clothes or not. he wants to send the message to everyone watching that if anyone dares to fucking cross his line, they’re gonna learn it the hard way and he will make it very known how the outcome of the situation will be. for example, he has a knife and what better way to use it than to stab the fuck out of someone for pissing him off? in some cases (depending on the severity of the situation), he’ll shank them in a place where he knows it’ll hurt the most and leave them there to suffer so they’ll get the idea that if they fuck with the people he treasures, they have another thing coming.

Nick Valentine:

mix of threatening and just angry.

honestly, nick is very civil about most cases and he won’t get violent unless absolutely necessary. he will definitely be beyond angry and give the person so much fucking shit for their actions. nick almost never yells but in this case, he’d yell so loud, it would fill up the silence of the room. nick also uses a lot of profanities when doing so, unable to maintain his professional attitude and his usual cool. “now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he’d even go as far as shoving them back, keeping a distance between sole and the person who deemed themselves as a threat to her presence. he’d try to minimize the possibility of violence arising, knowing that both him and sole are not as replaceable as they seem. he’d sneer at the person who striked sole, talking in the most irritated tone possible, “if i wasn’t here controlling her anger, you would’ve been dead on the pavement just a few minutes back, pal. consider yourself lucky that you were spared.” regardless if the person continued talking or not, nick would casually take soles hand and pull her away from the scene as he let out a remark loud enough for them to hear; “we don’t have time for the likes of you anyway, so take your trouble elsewhere.” nick has like zero shame when it comes to back talking or insulting someone he’s not fond of, so you best believe he won’t shut up until you both are out of sight.

Preston:

honestly, just angry.

preston will avoid violence at all costs, considering he doesn’t favor the idea and as much as he hates seeing sole get hurt, he doesn’t want to risk starting another issue. sole has a reputation amongst the commonwealth and the last thing he wants is to taint it or fuck it up, so he lets sole decide whether or not violence should be pursued. also considering that she has more than enough on her plate, he doesn’t want to add on to the list of problems she already has. so unless this guy is literally on the verge of gravely injuring his other half, he won’t do much besides step in front of sole to protect her from any further hits. he’d rather take the hits than to let someone as important as her take them firsthand. he wouldn’t forgive himself if such a thing happened. even if sole did most of the work in the end, he’d still send them the dirtiest look he’s ever given anyone and his hand would already be on the trigger of his laser musket, ready to fire at the guy anytime just in case. before officially leaving the person to do their own thing and bidding them goodbye, he’d get a little up close and personal, talking in the most threatening tone possible (even if he’s not the greatest at it); “once you mess with the general, you mess with the minutemen. i’d suggest you choose your battles a little better next time around.”

Sturges:

just angry

we all know by now sturges is a huge pacifist and will refuse to resort to violence unless he has no absolute choice but to do so. sturges is a very kind man and just like deacon, he’s willing to let most cases go but he respects sole too much to let violent situations like this slide. even if he’s very afraid to get into a violent situation head on, he’ll try to keep it as calm as possible, not wanting to escalate the situation more. being the considerate lover he is, he will ask sole to stay back and keep away from the person as much as possible as he tries to handle the situation himself. even if sturges doesn’t show it, he does get very angry in these instances and will not allow it to happen regardless of the reason. he’ll probably talk to the person with a firm tone and an irate expression but do nothing further than that unless the individual wants blood spilled, which in this case, sole is brought back into the situation. knowing sturges, he’d probably tell the person something like, “hey buddy, i really don’t appreciate what ya just did to my girl. ya need to quit it cause it ain’t right.” or, “if we got a problem, you can always just come to me instead of strikin’ that beautiful lady of mine. i’m willin’ to fix it with ya and if not, then i’m willin’ to take the hit.. though i’m sure my girl wouldn’ appreciate such a motive.” he knew she really wouldn’t. sole would shoot them down before he could let out a soft, “told ya so.”

Gage:

the ceo of violent

even if the raider life consists of injuries, blood, dirty work, and violence, he will never allow sole to get hurt under his watch. even if he tells her to toughen up and get used to it, he truly wants to protect her from the world and anything that could run as a potential hazard. that being said, he doesn’t care who the fuck strikes sole- it could be a man, woman, the highest and most royal person in the planet and it’d still have the same result in the end. gage wouldn’t even give them a chance to explain themselves and would simply let out a small, “oh fuck no, you ain’t.” and shoot them down himself before sole could give him an order. he would take the situation into his own hands with or without soles persmission, knowing that they crossed gages line of comfort. if he’s not satisfied with that or feels as if that’s too much of an easy way out, he’ll shoot their leg and come closer to them to step on their chest to block any chance of escaping. “wanna act tough, huh? show me how tough ya are, why dontcha? be my guest and apologize to the overboss. i’ll let her decide if it’s good enough to let ya go.” if sole were to deny every apology, he’d continue to shoot them limb by limb until he decides to put them down completely. now if sole decides their apology is more than enough, he’ll willfully let them go but let her decide their fate on whether they should be put down or not. in the end, if he had his way with that bastard, they wouldn’t be seeing the light for a long while.

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villains-promise · 3 years

Note

Hii! Can I have "☁️- What is this oc's clothing style like?" for all of them? I'm especially curious about Z, hehe

Absolutely! Thank you so much for asking :D

There will be two sets since everyone will have a professional and casual appearance.

Professional- The fabric must be light and soft for anything they wear. This just makes it easier for them to perform the moves they need to do as a mercenary. Also... Darker fabrics for the aesthetics. They think it’s more intimidating. Mostly, you’ll find them in black/dark grey long sleeved turtle-necks tucked into form-fitted pants (stretchy for mobility!). Also, depending on their weapon of choice for the day, they’ll have different holster for them.

Casual- They look almost like a different person outside of professional situations. They have a soft/dark academia aesthetic going on. They can wear a skirt (no matter the gender <3), but mostly preferring loose pants.

(Rest below the cut)

Professional- They’re basically stuck in the Court Sorcerer uniform 24/7. This is the bright red cape, lined in gold. Underneath, they stick with monochromatic colors (black, grey, white) with a pouch/belt around their midsection. They had to have their uniform specially remade because they argued it was too scratchy and distracted them.

Casual- They decisively wear less attention grabbing colors (they hate that red cape). They would wear something like a solid-colored button down and some form fitting pants. They would also trade in their pouch/belt for a satchel (they have important stuff to carry).

Professional- Of course they have to wear clothing that befits their position (not their words, but their father’s). This means elegant clothing that probably costs more than it should. Unless it’s an event that requires certain attire such as hunting or a tournament, then they can wear stiff chainmail or armor.

Casual- Depends if they’re just being casual around the castle or trying to sneak around the city. Around the castle, they follow Y’s lead and wear a loose tunic tucked into some dark slacks. Around the city they’ll have a hooded cape wrapped around the shoulders with the hopes that it makes them blend in. It does not, but the people humor them.

Professional- The official uniform of sages doesn’t really exists, but most of them dress the same anyways. Something like a white robe, lined in the color that correlates to the magic they use, and something to identify the god they are specialized in. Raz wears a white robe that’s lined with a lighter green and in the beginning they wear a token of the Skymother.

Casual- Literally whatever they can find. They don’t put much thought into their outfits. This usually translates into a short-sleeved grey tunic, a loose belt at his waist hanging crooked, and some well-worn pants for Erasmus. As for Erasma, she wears a well-worn grey dress and a belt around her middle.

Professional- As a knight, they have to wear armor while on protective duty. Sometimes being a knight means being shown off and then they must wear the cursed cape over their dark-colored, high-collared suit that itches something terrible. Other times, when wandering around as a guard for C, they must wear a casual tunic and pants made for movement, with a cloak to conceal the sword attached at their hip.

Casual- Whenever they can get away with it, they like to wear the lightest and comfiest clothing they can find. A form fitting tank top (made for acrobats, but who cares) tucked into their stretchy pants. It also has to be dark to hide stains from training.

Professional- Depending on the job, they will wear a scarf (to act as a hood) and long-sleeved tunic or you can find them in something similar to Z, though not for the same reasons. They don’t care for aesthetics or intimidation. They’ll intimidate someone via other means if they need to.

Casual- They’re a demon. They’ll rip off the sleeves to their comfiest tunic (made of cotton) and pair it with whatever pants they have, usually the same pants they wear for work. They don’t care for spending money on clothes when they already have some.

#villain's promise #send asks #ro asks #RO info

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helena-thessaloniki · 3 years

Text

unexpected guest.

Summary: Levi gets an unexpected guest on the anniversary of Erwin’s death. Inspired by the narrative in Beyond the Walls when Mikasa mentions accompanying Levi on these anniversaries. Pre-Marley Arc (no manga spoilers).

He had roughly tossed on a clean linen shirt at the sound of her knocking, and only finds time now to do up the buttons. Practiced enough with muscle memory, Levi starts at the bottom and works his way up while watching and waiting for her response.

“You’re right,” she agrees, blinking tiredly. The bag slips further down her shoulder and she lazily hikes it back up, eyes flitting to where his hands meet in the center of his exposed chest for a brief second only. “I wanted to get here before Commander Hange did.”

Levi’s deft fingers stall and stumble on a button, then promptly move on. Though it’s the only outward sign of his discomfort, minor and nearly motionless, her lavender-dusted eyes latch onto his scarred hands with open interest.

He almost narrows his eyes at her; she’s always been so quick to find his faults.

She looks like shit. Shades of indigo beneath her violet-edged eyelids, dark lashes fluttering weakly in every owlish blink. Her hair is brushed, at least, but sloppily pinned back behind both ears. Looking closely, he can tell she must have cut it herself, the jagged ends uneven against her prominent collarbones. Too prominent— she’s lost weight.

“What’re you doing here?” Levi asks, his voice gravelly from disuse. It’s barely past dawn and he isn’t expecting visitors until the afternoon.

Mikasa isn’t bothered by the lack of warm welcome. She simply starts walking forward, the trajectory of her steps anticipating that he’ll open the door wide enough for her to move through. For that reason alone, he does it.

Or so he tells himself.

Once she’s standing in his front room, observing its clean and tidy but otherwise emptied contents, he tries again.

“Ackerman.”

She turns back to him, where he stands at the threshold with the door still open, as if it is him who doesn’t belong there. There’s a pack slung over her shoulder, the weight of it further dragging down her oversized sweater. Only weak, natural light filters through the room, and Levi studies the shadows that cling to her, accentuating the hollow of her neck, the dip between her clavicles.

“You’re supposed to offer tea, ask me how I am,” Mikasa tells him, more absently than rudely. “Not disparage me for being here.”

“You’ve already had tea this morning,” he says, knowing that she takes two cups of black tea with half a teaspoon of honey in each before she fully opens her lids, let alone speaks to anyone or considers leaving her apartment.

Then, Levi closes the door, his hand still on the knob behind him as he appraises her. “And I know how you’re doing.”

Her frown is slight. “So, we’re skipping pleasantries.”

That actually provokes him to laugh, dark and devoid of humor. “Don’t think you came here for pleasantries.”

He almost narrows his eyes at her; she’s always been so quick to find his faults.

Wondering if she’s waiting for his next slip-up, Levi is determined not to make one. Once he’s finished, he fluffs out and then straightens down his collar.

“Why’s that?” The steel-edge in his tone sounds lacking even to his own ears.

Mikasa dips her chin toward her bag, gesturing to it. “Wanted to give this to you first.”

He takes a wary step toward her, tucking one hand into his front pocket. “What is it?”

She hesitates, her grip on the strap tightening. “I asked Armin if I could borrow it. He said you should keep it, though. Since he—...”

Mikasa inhales sharply, unable to finish aloud.

Since he only has a year left to live, anyway, Levi knows. He nearly flinches, from either the thought he’s finished in his own mind or the way her lips tremble, he isn’t sure. What little bit of lively color brushed Mikasa’s cheeks abruptly drains from her face now.

Levi is still not certain how she has survived— is surviving— Eren’s loss. Only the shadow of her former self stands before him, and not for the first time, he wonders if she will disappear entirely into the twilight after she loses Armin, too.

He closes the distance between them, removing his hand from his pocket.

“What is it,” Levi asks again, quieter this time.

Mikasa shrugs off the bag and offers it to him, silent. Levi takes it, unsurprised that it’s heavier than she made it look, but he keeps his gaze locked onto her.

Levi tells himself his pause is for her benefit, but the truth is, it might be for his own. If she knows about his plans with Hange this afternoon, then she knows what day it is, too. Not just a typical Thursday.

She takes a measured breath. “Erwin’s vintage chess set. Apparently, he told Commander Hange he wanted Armin to have it.”

Levi nods, buying himself time. Then, he turns with the bag and walks toward the dining table, setting it down carefully.

“I remember,” he says. “Told Hange that it was to be passed down, Commander to Commander, unless the Scouts were disbanded. Either way, he thought it would— should end up with Arlert.”

Mikasa joins him at his right side. “That’s why they gave it to him after the decree.”

Levi doesn’t answer. The end of the war against the titans unceremoniously led to the termination of their military branch. The decree may have made it official, a flourish of ink penned neatly on clean, ivory parchment, but the reality was stained into his soul. Blood smeared across his forehead, limbs torn, skulls smashed, human and horse innards defiling the grassy plains of Shiganshina. Losing them, losing Erwin, had been the real beginning to their end.

“Well, in any case,” Mikasa says, straightening out her spine.

Her nervousness, identifiable only through squared shoulders and her too settled tone, distracts him from the blood-soaked memories.

She gestures at the gift. “Thought you both might want to- to honor him by playing a match together.”

Something of a strange sentiment. Levi can’t say he would have thought of it himself. But even stranger is that the woman starving herself from her own grief has managed to put effort into easing his own. She’s always been too helplessly selfless, he thinks, though that largely depended on who was worth the sacrifice. Levi doesn’t allow that line of thought to linger.

“Hange hates chess,” he finally says, blunt as an old, useless knife.

Noting Mikasa’s surprise, her head tilting slightly toward him, Levi continues. “Too impatient. Can’t sit still, can’t stay focused. Too distracted by other ideas and subjects.”

Mikasa hums, quietly and briefly. “Right. Sounds like them.”

She frowns at the wooden chest, and Levi watches her from the corner of his eye. Her cold, calm features are no longer difficult for him to read. She’s either trying to find the right words, or more likely, summon the strength to say them.

Feeling generous— she did bring him a gift first, after all— he doesn’t let her ruminate further on the failed attempt.

“Thank you,” Levi says, blithe but sincere, as he places a hand atop the set. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Of course I remember,” Mikasa says, these words easier, and she sharply looks over to him. “It’s the only reason you’ve come back, isn’t it?”

He sees it through her mind; his growing-in-frequency departures to the outerlands and coastline, compared to his shorter stays in Mitras, only for Hange, only for the orphanages, only for the anniversaries of their dead. Not for afternoon tea on the balcony of her suite, or the extra pair of silverware he polishes for her seat at his dining table, and most of all, not for the barren, barely used house he keeps in Mitras, meant only for moments like this morning, when she stands inside and it hosts everything he needs.

Levi just shakes his head. “One of them.”

With the same focus he used to finish his buttons and fix his collar, he opens the heavy wooden chest that protects the vintage set. In it are the familiar pieces from days past, stone-cut characters in sleek ivory and ebony beside a checkered marble board. The same set that Erwin used to teach him, and the same set he once used to teach her.

Levi grips the edge of the chest. “You staying, brat?”

Mikasa stares at the chess pieces for half a moment, a golden glow over the crown of her head, and then starts to kick off her shoes.

“You remember last time,” she says more than asks, half a smile playing at her lips.

Of course he does. If he hadn’t, her prideful taunt would have reminded him well enough. Their last game against each other ended with her markedly fast checkmate that actually caught him unaware.

“Tch.” Levi begins to take out the pieces, shaking his head subtly, while she sets her boots down in the room’s corner. “You’re always too arrogant, Ackerman. Doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes it does,” she counters evenly, but then the rest of her small, satisfied smile unveils itself as she rejoins him. “Unfortunately, I learned from the best.”

Inadvertent it may be, but he thinks it’s the first time she’s verbally acknowledged their intensive training and... untraditional dynamics during the last stretch of the war.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That is unfortunate.”

Mikasa reaches for an ebony rook, he reaches for the ivory knight, and their hands brush in the passing; a sliver of a second that he knows can’t be why her smile lingers, but is the reason he tells her to make herself more useful and set a kettle to boil.

She levels him with a prim glare, but wordlessly sets off toward his kitchen. Levi finishes preparing the pieces on the board, watching dawn’s golden hues reflect off the ivory queen. The crown glimmers, almost winking at him, and Levi tries not to think of her.

One day, she won’t be a waning, dark shadow, but wholly herself. The warmth and strength of the sun's infallible light.

Author’s Note: Yeah, so, fun fact, I cannot get myself to finish writing the last 5k words until I flesh out more of their history. Before I ever wrote the first chap, I did tons of this, but apparently not enough. It’s all too scattered to be a prologue, so various pieces will be posted here on tumblr, or maybe tethered.

(For those who may be familiar with my other works. Levi teaching her chess is a direct reference to Out in Search. :) Those scenes, excluding the romantic developments, are also part of what I had written as the back-drop to Beyond the Walls.)

#rivamika #rivamika fanfic #beyond the walls fic #rivamika beyond the walls #lena writes #beyond the walls bonus scene

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kittinoir · 3 years

Text

Phantoms Ch. 15

Read on Ao3

Adrien had thought he’d feel angry. He’d thought that all-consuming rage would devour him whole and he’d never find his way out of it. He’d thought he would come apart from the force of it all.

But sitting there now, his father in a prison jumpsuit on the other side of the plexiglass, all he felt was numb. That rage had been snuffed out, and a desert had been left in its wake, devoid of any signs of life.

He’d lost his father a long time ago. The only thing that had changed was where Gabriel slept.

“How is she, Adrien?” Gabriel demanded. His hand was pressed against the glass, as though he might press through it and shake the answers out of his son. “Tell me she still lives.”

“I didn’t come here to discuss my mother with you,” Adrien said. His voice was so cold it might have frosted the pane between them.

The truth, however, was yes - Emilie Agreste lived, if you could call breathing with the help of a ventilator in a private suite at Pitié-Salpêtrière living. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t wake. But she lived.

Adrien wasn’t about to tell his father any of it though. Maybe it was petty, maybe he wanted to punish Gabriel just a little bit more, but he didn’t care. His father had no right to any of them. Not anymore.

“Then what did you come for?” Gabriel asked as he leaned back in his chair. “To finally have your say?”

As if he were worth the breath it would take.

That’s what Adrien keep telling himself, anyway. It’s what Marinette would have said, but it was harder to keep the tirade back than he’d thought it’d be.

“Who was using the peacock Miraculous?”

Gabriel just stared at him - and then laughed.

“That’s why you came here?” he asked, leaning on his side of the table.

“I have no other reason to be here,” Adrien said.

But Gabriel just chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Adrien hid his frustration. He’d known it was a waste of time. At least, he thought he’d known that. But he was still here, wasn’t he? He didn’t know why he expected honesty. As far as he could tell, Gabriel hadn’t been honest with him a day in his life.

It didn’t matter. He’d said the last thing he needed to to the man who had raised him. He was ready to end this chapter.

“How could you?”

The words were out of Adrien’s mouth before he even really made the decision to say them. They hung in the dead air between them. Then Gabriel’s mouth became a hard line.

“There is nothing on this earth I wouldn’t have done to save her,” Gabriel said. “Nothing.”

Adrien shook his head. “She wouldn’t have wanted this.

“That’s irrelevant,” Gabriel said. And that told Adrien everything he needed to know.

“Good bye.” Adrien hung up the phone. He saw his father say something else, lean back into the window, but Adrien stood and turned his back on him.

“Thank you,” he said to the guards as he left. They nodded as he passed, their faces expressionless. If they’d overheard his conversation, they hadn’t cared. No doubt prison officials were already pouring over the recordings, but nothing had been said that would hold any weight. True, there hadn’t been a single akuma attack since Gabriel had been arrested, but circumstantial evidence wouldn’t be enough.

It would be a trial like no other, that was for sure. Would French law even apply where magic was involved? No one had died. No permanent damage had been done, at least to the average Parisian.

It was a headache Adrien wasn’t ready to deal with. At least not yet.

He flipped the hood of his sweater up and slipped on some sunglasses as he was led out the backdoor of the prison. Paparazzi had staked out the building, waiting for either him or Gabriel to be spotted - or one of Paris’s many heroes. At least his father’s fortune was good for covert comings and goings. It helped that he’d ditched the car. True, a sweater and sunglasses were hardly the disguise Chat Noir would be, but it was enough.

Adrien paused halfway down the block from the prison as he came level with a billboard across the street. He was used to seeing his face everywhere he went, but this….

“The Girl Who Saved Paris”

The headline blared in bold, black lettering. Someone had gotten a hold of Marinette’s school picture and edited it side by side with one of Ladybug’s press shots. It was a great photo. They both were. He hated it.

They still weren’t sure how the leak had happened, though Adrien was sure he knew who was responsible. One last act of misery wrought by his father, one final shot at revenge - if he was to be unmasked, she would be, too. Now the entire world knew who Ladybug was.

“Are you sure I can’t cataclysm him?”

Plagg popped into the shadow of Adrien’s hood and hovered by his cheek.

“If you cataclysm him, then he won’t be held accountable,” Adrien explained for the thousandth time. “And the people of Paris deserve that. We deserve that.”

“At least let me do the billboards then,” Plagg whined, glaring at the one across the street as Adrien began walking again.

“No use,” Adrien muttered. He’d tried. Three more had sprung up overnight, as if punishing him for even trying. Someone was certainly determined. “Claws out!”

And then he was running, first down the streets, then across the rooftops as he angled for the only place he felt normal anymore.

The Dupain-Cheng bakery was busier than ever thanks to the billboards. He couldn’t blame the people that hoarded the doors, desperate for a glimpse of the girl who had saved them all. He knew that, but still, some part of him seethed. Hadn’t she given them enough?

He circled the block and approached her roof from the back, pausing to detransform behind a chimney, as if there would be anything less scandalous than the son of Ladybug’s arch enemy slipping into her room.

But no one saw him creep across the roof, and after a moment, Adrien dropped through the skylight onto the end of Marinette’s bed.

Despite being a model, despite years of fencing, there was just no getting around it: he wasn’t as graceful without the Miraculous. The jostle he created with his landing was enough to wake her up.

“Adrien?” she mumbled sleepily, squinting at him in the gloomy darkness of her room.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he settled against the pillows she’d placed at the end of the bed for him. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’d rather be awake than asleep if you’re here,” she said. She pushed herself up, and Adrien almost might have bought a speedy recovery, if he didn’t know her well enough to notice how she braced herself for the charade first. “Is everything ok?”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” he said. “Who had the peacock.”

Marinette sighed, her shoulders drooping. “It was worth a shot.”

She’d been the only one to think so, but Adrien suspected she was also the only one who knew how much he’d needed to face his father one last time. Confirming Gabriel’s accomplice would have only been an added bonus. The question itself truly was irrelevant; Adrien could guess at the answer. Why else would Nathalie have been named his guardian in the event anything happened to his father?

“How are you doing?” Adrien asked.

Marinette shrugged, doing a halfway decent impression of her usual bright smile. “Every day is an improvement.”

But Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously like a half-truth.”

“It’s a whole truth,” she insisted, but a tremor rolled through her body. “It’s not exactly a great day.”

Another understatement.

The truth was, Marinette was incredibly lucky. It was as though her Miraculous had infused her life, blessing her with little charmed moments. That was the only way to explain how she’d survived the cave in at Hawk Moth’s lair. Some doctors would chalk it up to the volume of her dress protecting her from any real damage. Other would call it a fluke. One doctor said if the tables hadn’t been in the room, the piece that fell would have crushed her spine completely.

She’d been bleeding so much when he and Ryuuko had pulled her from the rubble that Adrien had thought for sure she hadn’t made it. It wasn’t until later, when he was patrolling on his own to take the edge off, that he realized he’d never reached for her earrings in that horrible moment. He’d never even thought to use the wish.

Seconds after they’d freed her, Marinette’s chest rose in a shallow breath. She’d coughed, choking on cement dust. An exhausted Plagg had swirled up into Adrien’s face.

“Only Chat Noir is going to get her to a hospital in time,” the kwami said.

“But you’re - ”

“Do it,” Plagg demanded. Adrien hadn’t wasted any more time.

He’d never run so fast in his life. It wasn’t until he’d cataclysmed his way through a billboard that was in his way that he realized the paw pad on his ring wasn’t counting down anymore. He hadn’t known it at the time, but it was the last time Marinette would be afforded anonymity. He’d thought he’d have to convince the hospital staff to let Chat Noir visit her the next day, had come up with a plethora of lines to persuade them - only to have them part in hushed tones when he arrived, saying <em>of course</em> they’d let him see his partner.

He’d panicked as he’d approached her room. How was he going to tell her? How had it even happened?

But as he’d pushed open the door, Chat Noir had seen Marinette sitting up, alert, her face grim. She didn’t move as he entered the room, and it was then that he noticed she was staring at the tv in her room. It was the only story on any channel.

“Does it ever get easier?” she’d wondered as he’d stopped beside her bed. “Having your personal life on display?”

He’d thought for a moment. “No. But it helps having good people by you.”

And that was that. He’d learned that despite the blood, she’d only really suffered one major injury: a deep gash across her back that ran from her right shoulder to her left hip. The doctors had done everything they could, and spared no expense once they discovered who they were working on, but a scar was inevitable.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asked now. Marinette fidgeted, and for a moment he thought she might say no, but then she blushed a deep scarlet.

“The bandages need to be changed,” she said. “But I don’t want you to have - ”

“I’ll do it,” Adrien said. “It’s the least I can do.”

Marinette dropped her gaze to the comforter, weariness heavy on her shoulders. “For the ‘girl who saved Paris’?”

“For the girl I love.”

Adrien held her gaze as her head shot back up. It was an offer, nothing more. She’d rejected him several times before. He could take it again, if that was what she wanted. If she needed some time.

But he couldn’t help but feel that, as the world fell apart around them in so many ways, this was the one thing that was finally coming together.

Marinette released a shaky breath. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

Adrien smiled softly. “I’m happy to practice. But first, bandages.”

“I’m going to need some help,” Marinette admitted as she regarded the loft stairs. “We tried staying down stairs, but some of the more ambitious fans managed to sneak up through the bakery. No one’s made it up here yet.”

“Partly due to Jagged’s security team I’d guess,” Adrien said as he carefully maneuvered to the stairs. He’d spotted them doing their best attempt at crows control on the way in. “It was nice of him to loan them out to you.”

“I think he would have done it even if I wasn’t Ladybug,” Marinette said with a small smile.

“I think you’re right,” Adrien agreed. Jagged Stone might have been eccentric, but he had a heart of gold Adrien rarely saw in other celebrities. “Ready?” Marinette’s smile vanished as she regarded the descent. “I’ll be quick,” he promised.

She inhaled sharply as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck. She squeezed as he slipped one arm under her knees and gingerly placed his other hand on her back. He could feel the raised scar through her shirt. He took a quick peek, then relaxed a little; she hadn’t bled through the bandages.

“Where to?” Adrien asked.

“There’s a stool by the sink,” Marinette said. Pain laced her voice.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“Love you, too,” she said.

And then she buried her face his shoulder with a muffled scream as he carried her down from the bed, across the room, and set her on the stool. She was panting when he leaned back. Her arms slipped off his shoulders to her lap as one, two tears escaped.

“I’m fine,” she said as Adrien brushed away her tears with the back of his knuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but she just caught his hand with her own where he’d cupped her cheek.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she said earnestly.

“I’m glad it’s me, too,” Adrien said with a small smile as he stood. He turned to the sink as she saw to the buttons of her night shirt, waiting til the water ran warm to fill the small bowl someone had left on the rim. He collected fresh bandages, clean towels, and the antiseptic ointment someone had laid out as well.

When he turned back, he saw that Marinette had finished with her shirt and slipped it off. The fabric had pooled on the floor around her stool. He’d known about the wound. He hadn’t even considered the bruising - at least, not until that moment, when he saw it flowering out from beneath the white bandages wrapped around her torso.

“Ready?” Adrien asked as he kneeled beside her. Marinette nodded. This would be almost as bad as the moving. Maybe not quite as painful, but it would go on for much longer.

“I’m starting,” he said. He made quick work of the knot at the side, then began unwinding.

“I never did ask,” he said. “How did you end up with your Miraculous?”

Marinette shrugged, then hissed at the movement as it tugged at her wound.

“Ran into Master Fu on the way to school one morning,” she explained. “The first day of school, actually. The day you started. He was having trouble crossing the street. The light was about to change.” She snorted. “An act, obviously. That man’s never been helpless a day in his life. I rushed out to help him. Dropped all the macarons Papa made for the first day of class that day in the process. He still took one when I offered. When I came home at lunch, the Miraculous was on my desk.”

Adrien laughed softly. “That sounds familiar.” He unwound the last of the bandages and dropped them into the trash. Thankfully there was very little bleeding where the bandages had pulled away some of the scabbing. “I’m going to clean this now,” he said. She nodded sharply.

“I almost blew my identity - that first - day,” Marinette said in fits and starts as Adrien gently cleaned away old medicine and a little blood. “When Tikki popped out of the earrings. I called - for my mom and dad.”

“What happened?” Adrien asked as he worked around the wiry black sutures.

“Tikki stopped me,” she said, relaxing as he finally finished cleaning. She reached her hand back for a clean cloth, and he dunked one in the warm water before handing it to her. “I’m lucky they didn’t hear me,” she said as she cleaned her front where the bandages would go back on.

“Luck does seem to be your specialty,” Adrien agreed. But there was no denying as he looked at Marinette’s back that destruction was his. She’d only been hurt because of the damage he’d done to the room. Now she’d forever wear the scars of his weakness.

“Does this hurt?” Adrien asked as he applied some of the medication.

Marinette shook her head. “Not badly. It’s actually a little soothing. What about you?”

Adrien frowned. “Am I hurt?”

“No,” Marinette said with a short laugh. “How did you end up with your Miraculous?”

“Oh.” Pieces of the full picture crowded in on him as he thought back to the day, but he pushed them away. There would be time to make those connections later. “It’s a similar story. I was trying to get to school while evading Nathalie and my body guard. I was halfway up the stairs when I saw Master Fu fall on the side walk. I didn’t think about it, I just went to help him. That afternoon, the Miraculous was on my coffee table.”

“Is that why you were late that day?” Marinette wondered, straightening as Adrien began to wind the clean bandages around her torso.

“I’m surprised you remember.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Hard to forget. It was all Chloe would talk about.”

“That sounds about right,” Adrien said with a half smile. He finished wrapping the bandages and tied them off. “By the time I turned back around, Nathalie and my bodyguard were blocking the stairs. They took me back home. It wasn’t until that afternoon that my father reconsidered my attendance.” At the time he’d thought he’d caught his father in a rare good mood. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if Gabriel had simply wanted him out of the way while he worked. “Where can I get a clean shirt?”

“Bottom drawer on the left,” Marinette said, pointing towards her dresser. “Do you remember that thing with the gum?”

Now Adrien did laugh. It felt wrong coming out, like he’d forgotten a little bit how it was supposed to work. “I can’t believe we almost didn’t like each other.”

“Me either,” Marinette admitted. “Could you imagine? Friends as heroes, enemies as ourselves?”

“Au contraire,” Adrien said as he pulled out a clean blue night shirt from Marinette’s dresser. “I think you would have fallen for ‘Chat Noir’ a long time ago if ‘Adrien’ hadn’t managed to win you over.”

To his delight, Marinette blushed a deep pink. “You may be right,” she said, but she didn’t look away. “Such a shame we’ll never know.”

“I think I can live with that,” Adrien said, grinning. He shook out the top and helped Marinette guide her arms through the soft cotton. “Back to bed?”

But Marinette shook her head. “I finally feel a little better. I don’t want to ruin that. Would you help me to the chaise?”

“Of course,” Adrien said. He came around to stand in front of her and took both her hands, helping her to her feet. It was slow going, but he got the sense that she liked being on her feet and more or less self-sufficient, so he was happy to take his time.

But when they got to the chaise, Marinette hesitated.

“Would you stay?”

“As long as you want, Marinette,” he promised. He sat down first and let her get comfortable on her own before guiding them both back. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, her head on his chest. “This is…I must have imagined this a million times.”

“Yeah?” Adrien asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “How does it measure up?”

“The real thing is so much better.” She pressed closer, then giggled. “It’s purr-fect.”

Adrien groaned as she laughed, but he was smiling, too. “And you say my puns are bad.”

“They are bad,” she said, “But I love them anyway.”

“You’re too kind, m’lady,” Adrien said. “Now you need to rest. I have it on good authority healing takes a lot of sleep.”

“Mmm,” she mumbled, but then Adrien was running his fingers through her hair, and she was gone in seconds. He craned his neck to see her face, and after a few minutes, even the pain that lined her face faded.

“That’s the most peaceful she’s been since she came home,” Tikki said, drifting down from the loft.

“Has it been bad?” Adrien murmured.

“She’s been worried about you,” Tikki said. “It keeps her awake.”

Adrien shook his head. “Typical Marinette. Worrying about everyone else when she should be worried about herself.”

“She loves you,” Tikki said. “She can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adrien said. “I know. I love her, too.”

Which was why, after another twenty minutes, Adrien slowly slipped out from under Marinette and laid her as gently as he could back on the chaise. The corner of her mouth turned down, but he brushed it away with a kiss.

“Leaving so soon?” Plagg asked.

“Something like that,” Adrien said, his mouth set in a grim line. “Plagg, claws out.”

Despite the bright light, Marinette didn’t even stir.

“Adrien?” Tikki said as she drifted closer. He had time to wonder how something so small could look so suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Giving her what she needs,” Chat Noir said with a glance at Marinette. “Some peace.”

“She already does,” Tikki said, following him to the hatch in the floor.

“I won’t sacrifice her to win,” he said simply. He dimly recalled her saying the same thing to him - or at least, a version of him. Hawk Moth had whipped him up into such a frenzy that he’d barely heard the words, had barely considered them, but even as he’d reached for her earrings, a part of him had recoiled. He’d wanted to give up the anger then. It hadn’t been enough.

But he could make it count now.

He straightened as he descended the stairs. Tikki chased him down to the main level where she finally hung back, falling silent. He could see the crowds of people through the window panes of the back door. Good. It was good.

He didn’t balk as he pushed open the doors. Didn’t shrink or hide his face as every head in the room swivelled towards him. For a moment, there was silence. Then the chaos began.

He didn’t linger. He pushed back Tom and Sabine. He couldn’t read their faces. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. There would be nothing but outrage and disgust there in a few moments.

For once, his heart was steady as he pushed through the doors and into the street outside the bakery, the crowd from inside close on his heels. It didn’t trip or stutter or race at the scrutiny. For the first time, he was completely sure.

“Chat Noir!” Nadja Chamuck had pushed to the front and now shoved a microphone under his nose. “Were you just visiting Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl Paris now knows has been saving them for the better part of two years? Sources say she was grievously wounded in the final battle with Hawk Moth - is that true? Will she recover?”

Beneath the mask of news anchor, he could see Nadja was genuinely worried. He remembered that Marinette wasn’t just some random high school girl; she was Nadja’s baby-sitter.

He would have to reassure her another time.

“Parisians,” he began. His voice was strong, steady. It didn’t betray any emotions - possibly because for once he felt at peace. “Hawk Moth ensured Ladybug’s identity was revealed before he was captured. It was his final act of revenge. But as Ladybug’s partner, I can not, and will not let her weather this storm alone.You know me as Chat Noir, Ladybug’s parter, the boy that’s been saving you for the past two years. Now you will know me as I am. Plagg, claws in.”

Adrien counted down his last moments of peace as his transformation dissolved, finally revealing his true face to the city he and Marinette loved so much.

’Does it ever get easier? Having your personal life on display?’

That’s what she’d asked him. He’d told her most of the truth. But the other part, the part he’d known she’d eventually discover on her own, was that you could get used to anything if you experienced it often enough.

And he’d had years of practice.

#phantoms #phantoms ch. 15 #but for real now #hiatus

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