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word-wytch · 2 months ago

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Flip-Flopped AU

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

1k. Series Masterlist

My entry in the Flip-Flopped Summer Writing Challenge by @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire in which a plot point happens differently in your story and alters the trajectory.

In this AU, Eddie and Teach got lost in the heat of the moment in Chapter 17 and both decided not to use a condom.

CW: pregnancy, big feelings, protective!eddie

If this is not your thing, feel free to scroll on past! This does not affect the main story whatsoever.

The days were getting longer.

The changing of the clocks had sunlight stretching on past dinner time. Birds were making nests outside your bedroom window, singing as early as you woke. But they had been feeling longer even before now. Back when frost still clung to the windows of your classroom, you would find yourself slumped against your desk before lunch period—bleary-eyed with a tiredness that seeped into your bones, made you want to sleep forever. They were long because you were exhausted, and not just from work.

There were changes in your body. The early nausea had ebbed for you to discover your appetite again. You couldn’t wear underwire bras anymore, not that any of yours fit anyway. You could smell the ink from the Xerox machine over by the coffee table clear across the room; a superpower you never wished you had. When it finally stopped whirring, you got up from the table and sought to alleviate the pain in your lower back with a stretch. It did little good. With a tired sigh, you plodded over to the Xerox machine, grabbing the warm stack of copies and securing them with a binder clip before placing them atop three large textbooks. You hoisted the stack, wincing at the soreness in your breasts but thankful for the shield it provided. You’d noticed another change this morning that had you feeling anxious others would as well.

Like clockwork, Eddie was waiting just around the corner, leaning against the concrete wall pretending to read one of the novels you’d assigned last fall. He brightened as he saw you, stuffing the dog-eared book into his back pocket. “Hey,” he breathed, joining your stride.

You smiled, parroting the same in response, unable to stop the tingles at the sight of him from radiating down your chest to flutter low. That hadn’t changed at all.

“Let me grab that,” Eddie offered with a nod of his chin.

You clutched the stack like a safety blanket, readjusting your hands against the stiff covers. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“Come on, you probably shouldn’t be carrying so much while—” Eddie glanced around the bustling hallway, lowering his voice, “in your current condition.”

You sighed, softened by the concern in his deep brown eyes, the way he hovered so attentively beside you. “Ok, fine.” Veering out of traffic, you halted by one of the bulletin boards and yielded the stack of books into his waiting arms.

That was when he saw it—the swell under your floral cotton dress.

It had appeared practically overnight. Or at least it seemed that way. You had been looking out for it for many weeks now, always checking in the mirror before you left, making sure your clothing covered anything suspicious. It was easy in the winter, but there hadn’t been much to hide then—aside from the truth to those closest around you. Now that the trees of late March were beginning to bud, your options were dwindling to dresses with empire waists and generous fabric, big t-shirts on casual Fridays.

A lump caught in Eddie’s throat, eyes locked on the small bump. He almost dropped the books, hands burning with the urge to feel the evidence of his fatherhood. Your eyes met for a long, heavy second, welling with mutual recognition. Chatter echoed off the tile, lockers slammed, shoes squeaked and quickened with the approaching bell. Reluctantly, you broke his gaze to glance around, folding your arms protectively across your midsection before starting slowly down the hall again.

It was a longer walk than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the weight of your predicament hanging between you, or maybe it was born out of the desire to be close as long as possible.

Suddenly, a freshman whizzed by, weaving in and out of traffic to bump past your left shoulder. You stumbled, clutching your belly reflexively as your feet righted themselves beneath you.

Eddie felt a rage course through him like he’d never felt before. Icy like fear, but igniting to a blind fury that seared through his veins, made his vision narrow until he saw nothing but red. “HEY!” he barked. All of a sudden his shoes were pounding the tile as if moving on their own, books shifting to his left arm while his right reached for the handle on the freshman’s yellow backpack. He yanked the kid back, almost lifting him off the ground to face him. “How ‘bout you watch where you’re going, ‘kay?” he gritted.

Terror swept across the freshman’s pimpled face. “‘Kay,” he eked out.

Nostrils flaring, Eddie held his gaze for a second to drive home his point before releasing his grip. The freshman clambered away, straightening his shirt and glancing over his shoulder as he slunk into one of the classrooms. Eddie stood there a moment, staring at the door he’d vanished into, steadying his breath before your voice broke the spell.

“Eddie,” you started wearily, unable to maintain your exasperation when you saw the worry so vividly in his eyes.

“You tripped.”

“I’m fine,” you soothed, resuming your place, close enough to brush the hair on his arm. Though you didn’t condone the outburst, you couldn’t deny it stirred a warm, buzzing feeling in you.

You walked together carefully in silence as the chaos swirled around you. But the tension didn’t leave his shoulders, not even once he unloaded the pile from his arms with a thud onto your desk.

The classroom was empty, but not for long. Beyond the open door was a commotion of footsteps, any one of them with the potential to breech the threshold. Eddie eyed your bump again, and the stiffness in his jaw softened slightly to longing. Stepping around the corner of the desk, he closed in until it was just about the only thing between you.

“I’m coming over later,” he said just above a whisper, eyes flitting up to yours before resting on your belly again.

A smile cracked through the worry on your face for just a moment before a glance at the door made it return. You could tell from the heat in his eyes just how badly he wanted to touch you, just how close he was to letting the impulse take over.

He followed your glance toward the door, then back to the subtle swell, rising and falling with your bated breath. With a determined set of his jaw, and eyes that brimmed with unbridled wonder, Eddie raised his hand and placed it firmly on your belly. It was warm and soothing, thumb stroking gently over the smooth cotton.

And for a fleeting moment, on an exhale you both shared, all was right in the world.

______

A/N: If you loved this, please tell me! And lmk if you want to be added to the AU taglist (which will be separate from my main one) because I will be writing more of these! Just little vignettes.

I am taking requests for anything and everything in this AU, so if there is a moment or situation you want to want to see, send me an ask!

Also, there will be a celebration hosted by the lovely @teddiemunson86 and @ladylilylost on their discord server tomorrow Sunday, Sept. 1st at 2pm EDT where I will be talking about chapter 17 and what the future has in store for our forbidden lovebirds (and maybe the AU as well)! If you're interested in joining, the link to the server is here. Hope to see you there!

Tagging my main list just this once to gauge interest: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly

@kissmyacdc @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning

@blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @alizztor @godcreatoreli

@ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxxsblog @siriusmuggle

@sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420

@readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless

@eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo

@eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi

@liminalpebble @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins @mimsthebannished @tssf-imagines

@eddiethesexy

#this is my roman empire #please don't hate me #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things au #dssctm #don't stand so close to me

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jstor · 3 months ago

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Hello, JSTOR!

I'm about to graduate with my first Master's and two of my professors who have helped me with my thesis (which is a literature review because the IRB views the topic to be too sensitive to be empirical). Do you have any tips on how to pursue publication for the first time? Not many professors in my program have done a literature review and published it, nor has anyway with a Master's or PsyD/PhD at my job, so we're not sure about how to go about it. (I've been trying to search, it's hard between writing a thesis, working, and having Dr.s think my seizures are fake).

Thank you much for any information.

-🦎 Lizard

Hi there Lizard,

Thanks for sharing this with us. I'm happy to share a few best practices/advice based on what you've mentioned, but I'd also love if the community could hop in to share their experiences as well.

Before I get into that, I just want to remind you to prioritize your health and well-being first and foremost! It's great that your research is near and dear to you, but never feel guilty or like you need to justify putting yourself first. I'm sure there are plenty of relevant journals waiting in the wings for what you have to offer when the time comes. <3

It looks like you're in the psychology field. Publications like Psychological Bulletin and Psychological Review look like they may be a good fit after a quick search, but I have to disclaim this isn't my (the mod) particular field. Perhaps your professors have colleagues they know outside the program who have successfully published literature reviews. You may want to chat with them about their network.

Also worth noting that peer feedback can be invaluable, so if possible, have a few colleagues or mentors review your work before you submit.

Finally, we know the publication process can be challenging, especially when juggling other responsibilities. Don’t be discouraged by any initial setbacks or rejections—they’re a normal part of academic publishing. If needed, take your time to revise and resubmit.

#jstor #ask #research #academia

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thydungeongal · 2 months ago

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First day of Adventuring

Our intrepid heroes, Jimothy, Montgormery, Theophany, Chuckles, Theodore, and Stevelyn (introduced in a previous post) arrive in the village of Balaz's Wish in the Empire of Irazor.

Irazor is ruled by necromancer Lucien of Irazor, a level 12 Magic-user. He has well-brushed brown hair, glowing black eyes and a nose ring (Uncomfortable). In the pocket: a dirty handkerchief, 3 sp and 2 gp.

The village of Balaz's Wish is a simple village nestled between two mountains. As the party arrive, they immediately head to the local drinking hole, "The Lost Torch Tavern," to check the local bulletin board for leads.

Help requested! A heirloom of sentimental value was stolen from me. I will reward anyone who is kind enough to get it back. Yours, Kyranthia of Akaana Heading to Hammering? Payment guaranteed to a trusty courier. Ask for Berwin Lacy

Montgormery, who has named himself party leader, decides that a simple delivery quest is unbecoming of a man of his noble stature and his retinue, so he leads the party on a visit to this Kyranthia of Akaana!

Kyranthia of Akaana. She has bulging red eyes, delicate features and gap teeth (Exhausted). In the pocket: a quill and 3 sp. Her Decorated Sword is lost (or so claimed). Finder's rewards is 230 gp.

The party then goes to gather some rumors at the tavern while having some drinks, overhearing the following:

Kyranthia of Akaana’s decorated sword (actually Sword +1, Locate Objects) is somewhere in the Hideout of the Feared Hopes Avoid going to Nightmare Wetlands. There’s a Giant Leech there. Safia of Atali is very secretive recently.

A quirk of Hexroll is that once I reveal the first rumor it also revealed the secret about Kyranthia's sword. Well, regardless, the party now has an approximate direction to which to head: while the exact location of the dungeon is still a mystery, they know it is due East-Northeast.

Deciding that they are much better off heading North via the road instead of trying to cut straight Northeast through the mountains, they follow the road and chance upon a peculiar sight in the woods.

There's a stream of clear water here, flowing gently between the woods, over the smooth rock ground. When exploring this area, a giant triangular artifact made of polished iron, with large pointy spears attached, can be found wedged near a water stream. There's a 1-in-6 chance to find a secret door leading inside the artifact and a successful INT check will allow using a contraption inside it. If used, the object will magically levitate and will travel 1d6 hexes in a matter of minutes before crashing into the ground again, dealing 1d6 damage to anyone inside.

No one in the party (even Montgormery) is stupid enough to try and mess with a UFO. Regaining their bearings, they decide to head Northeast, into the woods.

And find a tavern at the bend of a river.

"The Baker's Torch Tavern" is welcoming travellers and adventurers near a water stream.

The party decides to call it a night at this point. They dine on some local delicacies and have some ale, and then go to bed. (At this point the generator kind of fucked up imo: the tavern only has two rooms available. Instead I had everyone pay the prize of the roof and bench.)

Here's a quick look at the menu:

Stewed slices of chicken, glazed with garlic and wine and served with baked potatoes for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of fish, glazed with red wine and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of chicken, marinated in honey and herbs and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp

And here's a look at the map (I have accidentally been pressing here and there and everywhere, so it's actually showing much more than it should):

What I have omitted from the above description: checks for random encounters (since they didn't yield anything interesting) and the roll for getting lost (the party didn't get lost so they have their bearings for now).

#thysologirl #dungeons and dragons #old school essentials

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

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“C’mere, squirt.”

The great pine forests of East Texas have been, for the most part, miraculously spared of Empire destruction. The American Southwest was largely destroyed, along with countless other hugely important geographic landmarks on Earth, but East Texas — and all the memory it holds — seems to have fared just fine.

They will rebuild, anyways.

His son straightens immediately at Keith’s gentle beckoning and toddles over, climbing on top of his bent knee. He smiles softly, placing a balancing hand on his back — his palm spans the entirety of the kid’s back, holy shit, he’s so tiny, how was Keith ever placed in charge of something so tiny — and uses the other to point at a brown smudge high up in a Loblolly. Cory squints. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees Lance press his hands to his face and muffle a scream. Goober.

“That’s a red-tailed hawk,” he murmurs. “That’s the bird you hear in movies.”

Cory hums in understanding, although he probably doesn’t. They don’t watch a lot of movies. Keith once read about how detrimental screens are for developing children in one of Shiro’s many parenting books, so they don’t watch a lot of T.V. (Back when Cory wasn’t even with them yet, and Keith was panicking nightly. Lance had to fish all their devices from the garbage. It was a time.)

“Caw,” says Cory sagely. Keith snorts.

“Yes, buddy. Caw. If you sit real still, the bird might even move.” He hears the echo of his father’s voice, decades old, in the back of his mind; a memory, frayed at the edges, of Keith in this very forest, held in the same way he’s holding his own son, listening his Pa quietly name all the birds and rocks and trees. Hanging on his every word, even though he didn’t get it all. The smell of the pine trees, the rumble of Pa’s low voice. He swallows the lump in his throat, brushing a kiss into Cory’s hair. “That’d be cool, huh?”

Cory babbles something Keith can’t understand. A sticky hand comes up to pat Keith on the cheek, making him smile despite the sting of his eyes. “Daddy, caw. Birdie! Caw.”

Keith turns his head to press a kiss to Cory’s palm. He giggles. Keith wiggles his eyebrows, blowing a raspberry, just to make him laugh harder. The pain in his chest begins to loosen, ever so slightly.

He catches Lance’s gaze over Cory’s head, and takes the time to memorize his dark eyes all over again. Lance lets him. He always does, even though it makes him blush and fidget, lets Keith trace his thumb along his lash line and study the flecks of Earth brown and ash black in his eyes, of sun gold and deep amber; he likes Keith’s attention on him as much as he refuses to admit it.

That’s Lance, though. Tries with every inch of him to be cool and mysterious and suave and can’t manage to save his life. His twitchy enthusiasm sparks in everything he touches, no matter how hard he tries.

When he started digging through Keith’s collection of atlases and running around the house with stacks of blankets and sleeping bags and camping supplies, Keith had said, “Planning something, sweetheart?” and Lance had stuck out his tongue and responded, “Blah blah, nosy.” But Shiro had texted him to let him know that Lance had asked for Keith’s old photos, and one day Keith caught him with a bulletin board and dozens of pins of pictures of pine trees and booking receipts and dorky sticky notes until Lance screeched and kicked him out.

Lance is bad at secrets. And he is a dorky and kind weeper who loves to do anything but mind his own business and muddle things up.

And Keith knew that all when he married him, and loved him for it then, too.

“Hey, mijo,” Lance suggests, “how would you like to sit on daddy’s shoulders so you can see the birdies better?”

Cory gasps, looking rapidly between his parents. He bounces excitedly in Keith’s lap, attempting his own cawing noises, pointing up at the nest.

Keith smiles wider, quickly swiping under his eyes before straightening. He shifts his hold on Cory and winks at his husband, who rolls his eyes in fond understanding, and then his tilts the boy back until he’s giggling, leaning in close until their noses are brushing.

“Munchkin,” he says, playfully nipping the tip of his nose, “you know how you can get even closer to the birds?”

Cory gasps. “How, Daddy, how?”

Lance chuckles. When Keith glances over at him, his smile is so wide it forces his eyes near shut. Keith’s chest aches, it aches so good, and the little Keith that lives in his chest holding himself tightly and swallowing past the perpetual lump in his throat is soothed and comforted and held lovingly. Something cracks and heals in his heart.

“Like this!” Keith shouts through all the emotions bubbling up all over him, and tosses his son in the air, careful not to go too high out of his reach.

Cory shrieks with laughter, tiny fingers scrabbling for purchase on Keith’s jacket on his way down. Keith hardly lets him settle before he’s tossing him up again, higher this time, laughter louder and squealing. The bird has long since flown away, disturbed by the sound, and probably every other animal within a thirty foot radius. But Keith can’t bring himself to care. The bugs can’t move far, and no doubt Cory will want to dig around for worms with his Papa like always. (Keith knows for a fact that Lance has three spades in his backpack and several see-through containers.)

For now, he has time to toss his son in the air. He has time to lean into the hand his husband slides into his back pocket. He has time to smell the pine trees, to think of his father, to feel the bounce of packed Earth under his feet.

To the tiny him that lives buried in his chest, he whispers, we made it, ace.

———

keith and cory in the forest

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annoyinglandmagazine · 16 days ago

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First Time Reading Girl Genius Novels 2

I am not surprised Agatha thought Lilith’s reaction to being told her lack of uniformity made her like Judy so it was fine was a bit odd. That is a weird interaction for her on so many levels.

Agatha’s gradual realisation as a child of the way the world around her discriminates against people like her parents gives me emotions.

She has a much more vivid memory of Barry than I expected, ‘seemed worried about things he couldn’t talk about’ is spot on and also heartbreaking

Agatha’s joy at having a home and stability for the first time is a lovely thing to add, she misses Barry of course but it’s interesting that they clarified he wasn’t in a good place or position to be raising a child

The late night argument and Barry’s collapsing mental health and possible death told through three increasingly rambling letters also giving me many emotions

The Heterodynes as an almost religious presence, an ideal people aspire to, like, ‘we should live our lives as if they will return’ is such a spiritual way to put it which I kind of love worldbuilding wise.

Jägers and Boris having an intense rivalry is one of my favourite running jokes and the backstory of Klaus enforcing a time limit on their fights before he has to mediate really reminds me of the ‘it’s like running a kindergarten’ line.

An opportunistic doughnut seller seeing the Baron engaged in a total and hostile take over of his town with his heir, second in command and soldiers and deciding they might not have had time to grab breakfast is exactly the kind of batshit insanity I expect from this setting.

Gil and Klaus just running madly through the streets, dodging crates and jumping on to walls in sync while keeping up a conversation like this is just about Tuesday (which it is for them) must be a pretty weird sight even for bystanders in girl genius

The older jäger grinning at Adam is a nice bit of foreshadowing

Just generally loving the fact that the jägers saying weird shit and arguing over things that make no sense is so normalised that it allows them to get away with hiding basically anything even if most of them have no idea what subtlety is

Gil and Klaus taking a moment to discuss how best to cover the undressed girl in front of them before proceeding further is kind of hilarious to me

Also every iteration of this exchange ‘You don’t find the fact that the girl is running about in a machine shop in her underwear to be unusual? Red fire, boy, what sort of lab did you maintain in school?’ Plus Gil’s blushing and ‘Father! please!’ is comedic gold.

The jägers finding loopholes to secretly give Klaus a guard when he’s in one of his moods (which are apparently a known and regular thing) where he wants to do everything by himself just because, is both wholesome and funny

The tavern song. Oh my god.

I need more information about how Agatha wandering around in her underwear makes Sleipnir assume she’s English.

Interesting that she’s calling her the Von Pinn. I never noticed that happening in the comic.

Descriptions of the school are nice to have, especially the bulletin boards covered in drawings, letters and so on, really makes it feel like an actual primary school.

Extremely rare Klaus feminist moment on the trousers front, though it’s definitely more about practicality than anything else

Agatha was shocked at Sleipnir referring to Wooster as a codfish, Girl Genius characters’ weird idea of what counts as swearing is so much fun

Children cycling around the airship delivering messages is a nice touch as are all the other details about Castle Wulfenbach, it really drives home the whole nerve centre and capital city of the empire thing

Saying you refer to your boyfriend as Herr Nice to justify not recognising his name is certainly one approach

Mowgli. Agatha you are fooling nobody here

Them ripping a machine apart while they’re plummeting to the ground and grinning maniacally should not be as adorable as it is

Khrizan gently cradling Agatha, calling her sweetheart and checking that she’s alright should have been a clue to someone that there as something special about her

Morbid children’s songs my beloved

Theo’s little interactive bit where he chases the children around during the story is so absurdly endearing.

“He nodded to the girls as he passed ‘RHaah,’ he said conversationally.” Did I mention I love Theo?

PRT is a genius bit of worldbuilding and I love it. That whole section is amazing especially the fact that personality shifts going more insane is only a tricky hypothetical on a test paper because Sparks are already like that to start with

I love that the tables are designed to be constantly replaced because they let the kids try out their new gadgets at mealtimes for serving the food.

They all bring different dishes from wherever they’re from which is also nice

The school is a lot bigger than I thought if they’re implying what we see is only a tenth of its normal capacity.

Klaus insisting that they go and oversee or assist in the harvests themselves to try and curb the culture of elitism is great and the way the kids actually look forward to it as opposed to their parents who hate it shows its actually working

The fact that Lucifer Mongfish’s conflicts with the Heterodynes are considered the cause of Bill’s marriage to Lucrezia rather than an obstacle tells you a lot

The logistics of family gatherings where every family member wants to and has tried to kill each other

Agatha comparing an argument between two twelve year olds to one between two teachers at her university is very in character with sparks

The Large Dangerous Mechanical Lab being the real name is kind of funny

#Girl genius #live reaction #live reading #gg novels #Agatha heterodyne #gil wulfenbach #klaus wulfenbach #sleipnir o’hara #Theo dumedd

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odyssean-flower · 1 year ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 2 - Spring: Three Meetings and a Proposal

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Somehow, you keep running into Neuvillette. When something unexpected happens, he offers you an unexpected proposal. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please go over there if you'd like to read it faster

Have a picture of neuvillette standing next to the skull of Oroboshi

Previous | Next

A month had passed since that unexpected encounter. You hadn’t told anyone about it, because it felt unreal even to you. Maybe you really had drank too much champagne.

In any case, the events of the ball were quickly forgotten amidst the immense preparations you had to do to obtain your governess license. It was a long, grueling process that involved leaving your hometown and moving all the way to the city, but it was about to bear fruit at last. After one last history exam, you would finally obtain your license and be able to advertise your services in the newspapers and bulletin boards.

And then, you would finally be blissfully freed from all those marriage-hunting obligations. No more balls, no more disappointments...

It was those thoughts that kept you going as you stared at the tiny words in your history textbook while being surrounded by people who seemed determined to scream their lungs out today.

“Get him, get him!” your sweet, adorable sister shouted next to you.

“Send him to jail!” her new beau also shouted from next to her. I’m pretty sure one can’t be sent to jail for hoarding ashtrays, you thought, but said nothing. He probably couldn’t even hear you, anyways.

Today, you were forced to chaperone your sister and the viscount’s son on their “romantic engagement.” Said “romantic engagement” happened to be attending a trial at the Opera Epiclese. Apparently, this was a popular date spot for young couples. It was things like these that made you feel dreadfully old and out of touch sometimes.

The seats were packed for today’s trial, for good reason. This trial was just one part of a lengthy divorce proceeding between a celebrity couple, in which they were trying to figure out how to divide their many, many assets. It was akin to a serial and even had its own dedicated column in the newspapers.

You glanced over at your sister and the young lord. They were whispering together and giggling. Even though the viscount’s son seemed a bit, for the lack of a better word, dopey, from your short interactions with him you could tell that he was a good-hearted and generous young man. Plus, there was a certain charm in watching him and your sister getting closer, the same feeling one would get from observing two cute puppies playing together. Perhaps your mother would live to see one of her daughters get married after all.

You looked back down at your book. You were on the chapter about Remuria, one of your favorite subjects. You loved reading about that long-deceased God King and his drowned empire of music. You knew that there were extensive ruins from that period near the town of Petrichor, but it was much too far and dangerous (without shelling out the exorbitant amounts of money for protection) to go there from the Court of Fontaine, so you could only ever dream of visiting there.

The cacophony faded into the background as you became engrossed in the topic.

It felt like no time had passed before you felt your sister shake your arm. “Sister, Sister! The trial’s over! Let’s go.”

You looked up to see people walking past you towards the exit. Judging from their chatter, the wife seemed to have won. What she was going to do with a vault of ashtrays, you had no idea.

You snapped your book closed and followed everyone else out. “I don’t know how you can read that boring book when there’s such an exciting show going on,” the viscount’s son commented, eyeing the thick textbook.

“Oh, that’s one of Sister’s special powers! The ability to read anywhere, no matter how loud or unsuitable the place is. I don’t know how she does it,” your sister chimed in.

“You can learn it too, you know, if you apply yourself to it,” you informed her.

“Ugh, you’re already talking like a governess,” your sister pouted.

“A governess? You want to be that?” the viscount’s son said, sounding incredulous. Seriously, why does everyone sound so shocked when they hear about it? “I had a governess once. She was always alone and wasn’t even allowed to eat with the family. Seems like a rather miserable job if you asked me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told her, but she won’t change her mind! She kept talking about how it’s ‘her role in life’ and her ‘fate.’”

You tuned the two out. You had heard variations of this conversation too many times over the years.

Once the three of you reached the main hall, the darling couple decided to go get some refreshments while waiting for the rain to subside. You decided to sit on one of the comfy stuffed couches under the stairs and resume your studying.

The words on the pages flowed into your brain. Remus...Sybilla...harmosts... what would it be like to live in that era? Or at least, to walk the places where these words were once part of everyday life? To touch the artifacts—the once-cherished, once-used items—of the people from back then?

You shook your head. Sometimes, your mind would drift to things that weren’t anywhere on the horizon of your life, just like how you would sometimes indulge yourself by reading romance novels and light novels from Inazuma. No, you needed to hone your mind and focus on your reality. You were in no position to move off your pre-determined path. You needed to think about how you were going to teach these concepts to children—

“Good day to you, Miss [Name].”

You nearly jumped at that voice. A very familiar voice. Knowing who you were going to see, you stood up with your head bowed.

“Good day to you, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

You lifted your head. The man himself was standing in front of you. You had only ever seen his face in the papers and only met him once (in the dark, no less), but you thought he seemed a bit fatigued. You couldn’t blame him, though. You were sure you would feel the same if you had to preside over such a ridiculous series of trials.

“I do apologize for disturbing you,” Neuvillette immediately said upon seeing your face. Maybe your poker face wasn’t as good as you thought.

“It’s alright, Monsieur. I don’t mind.” You tried your best to sound like you meant it.

“May I sit down?” Neuvillette said after a pause. You nodded, and he proceeded to sit next to you. You moved all the way to the other end of the couch. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed you two, considering how this couch was somewhat hidden away from sight, but you couldn’t take any chances. A governess’s job prospects hinged on having a spotless reputation, after all.

“Are you here with someone?” Neuvillette asked.

“Yes, Monsieur. I’m chaperoning my sister, who has been invited on a date here.”

Speaking of your sister, you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see how the two lovebirds were faring. They were currently in the process of choosing from a large menu, giggling and nudging each other as they did so. They probably weren’t going to be finished any time soon.

“Date...” Neuvillette mused. “Yes, I’ve heard that it has become quite a trend among young people to have romantic engagements at the Opera. I must admit, I don’t quite approve of having the sanctity of trials be used for such purposes.”

“I agree,” you nodded. “Although since trials are already spectacles, I suppose this isn’t so preposterous.”

“You certainly don’t mince words, Miss [Name].” there was an amused note in his voice. All you could do was shrug and smile. It wasn’t like you could refute him.

Another awkward silence. Maybe you had offended him with your comment? You didn’t really know why he would be offended though, considering that trials in Fontaine were like performances.

“What did you think of the trial, Miss [Name]?”

You had to think about it for a minute. It felt like you were being quizzed on something you hadn’t studied for. “I think they are both idiots, Monsieur. They would save everyone’s time by dueling it out between themselves.”

Neuvillette blinked for a minute, and then a small laugh slipped out his mouth. You took that to mean that he agreed with you.

His lilac eyes moved to the thick textbook in your hand, seeing it closely for the first time. His brow furrowed. ��Were you reading that during the trial?”

Under his puzzled gaze, you felt like you had done something wrong. “Um, yes. Not out of disrespect for the proceedings, I assure you, Monsieur. But I have an important exam for my governess license coming up, so I need to grab any chance I have to study for it.”

“Studying in such a chaotic environment... you’re very dedicated to your goal. I can think of a few people who might be able to learn from you.”

You didn’t hear any sarcasm in his voice. He sounded genuinely impressed. You felt your shoulders relax. It had become an unfortunate tendency of yours to become defensive when you talked about these things. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“What are you studying?” He leaned closer to you. How long is he going to stay here?

“History, Monsieur. I was reading about the older periods of Fontainian history like the Remurian Dynasty,” you opened your book and flipped to the chapter.

He tilted his head to the side as he looked at all the underlined passages and marginal notes on the pages. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that the subject of Remuria would make up such a large portion of the exam that it would warrant all these notes. Is it a personal interest of yours?”

The idea that Neuvillette knew what was on the exam was surprising. You didn’t think it was something he would have much knowledge of, but since he was the head of the Maison Gestion, which administered the governess exams, maybe it wasn’t so surprising?

“...I suppose it is,” you said at last.

"What do you like about it?”

That question caught you off guard. "I just...do,” you said at last. “The story of that civilization is very fascinating to me, so I couldn’t help but read more about it.”

No one had ever asked you about this, so you didn’t know how to answer it.

Neuvillette looked down at your notes again. Was he reading them? You had the urge to close your book. Somehow, it felt like a violation of privacy, like he was reading your diary.

You were saved by the footsteps running up to you. “Sister! Sorry we took so long! We got the—oh Archons, is that Monsieur Neuvillette!?”

Your sister and the young master were both holding boxes of Conch Madeleines in their hands, staring at the Chief Justice with identical expressions of shock. You might have laughed if the atmosphere ’t so serious.

Neuvillette stood up. “Good day to you both,” he nodded towards them, then to you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

The three of you watched as he left. Once he was out of earshot, your sister turned to you excitedly. “Sister! You know the Chief Justice?”

“I don’t,” you said, which was a half-truth. You really didn’t know him. “He just came up to me and started chatting.”

“Really?” she lifted an eyebrow. “The Chief Justice, who is so notoriously private that he rarely even does interviews, just randomly struck up a conversation with a stranger?”

“Look, I wish I could give you a good reason, but I can’t.”

Your sister continued to stare at you with narrowed eyes. You were usually pretty good at lying to people thanks to your excellent poker face, but your sister was one of the few people who could see right through you.

“Hey, it stopped raining!” Luckily, you were saved by the viscount’s son’s shout. “That was quicker than I expected.”

With snacks in hand, the three of you left the opera house and headed towards the aquabus station.

The exam day came, and in your honest opinion, you performed excellently. The questions were so easy that you could answer them in your sleep. The results would be finalized next week, and you knew for certain that you had qualified with flying colors. You handed the exam to the invigilator and left the Palais Mermonia with a spring in your step.

Now that you had the rest of the day free, whatever shall you do? Well, since the weather was so nice out, you thought you’d go to the Café Lucerne and get some Conch Madeleines as a celebratory snack. You had brought along your treasured copy of The History of the Decline and Fall of Remuria Volume 1 as well. Just the thought of spending the day eating sweets and reading your favorite book in the warm sunshine brought a smile to your face as you walked towards the elevator.

The thought distracted you so much that you didn’t notice the other occupant in the elevator until they cleared their throat. You spun around. It was as though fate was playing some kind of sick joke on you, since it was Neuvillette—who else could it be—standing in the tiny elevator space with you.

You thought about excusing yourself and leaving the elevator, but it was already descending.

“We do seem to meet quite often, Miss [Name],” he said. “My apologies.”

“Yes, we do indeed, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said, resigning yourself to your fate. Why did he apologize just now?

“Did you have business at the Palais Mermonia today?” he asked.

“Yes. I had to write a history exam for my governess license.”

“Ah, I see. I wish you luck in passing.”

“Thank you, Monsieur,” you smiled and nodded.

An all-too-familiar silence fell. Couldn’t this elevator go any faster? It felt as though this shaft was going on forever.

You racked your brain for something to say but came up empty. You and Neuvillette simply lived in two completely different worlds. In situations like these, it was better to stay silent and pretend to be invisible, in your experience.

“So, Miss [Name], what do you think of the fall of Remuria? Do you believe it was truly predestined?”

“Huh?” That was the last thing you expected to hear.

Neuvillette repeated his question.

“I heard you the first time, Monsieur...I was just confused as to why you asked me that.”

“I simply want to know what a scholar of history like yourself thinks about it. I’ve asked this question to several others, and I’ve always received different answers. It’s very fascinating.”

A scholar of history? You felt embarrassed at how your heart lifted at hearing yourself described as such.

“Well, if you don’t mind listening to the opinions of an untrained layman like me, Monsieur...”

You cleared your throat and began to launch into the theory you had been brewing inside your head for several years. As you talked, the two of you walked out of the elevator and into the main hall, where people gawked at the Chief Justice listening attentively to a plain-looking woman prattling on about Remus and Boethius.

You noticed none of these things, for you had gotten too carried away with the excitement of finally having the opportunity to express your opinion on things that you actually cared about. You also didn’t notice the soft amusement in Neuvillette’s eyes as he observed you.

“...And so, I believe that Remuria might have lasted for much longer if those in power didn’t covet the things that weren’t meant for them, and instead focused their energies on preparing for their inevitable fate,” you concluded as the two of you neared the Café, then smiled up at him triumphantly. It was then that you realized that you had been the only one talking for the past fifteen minutes. “Oh, my apologies, Monsieur. I got carried away. It must have been dreadfully boring to hear me talk on and on.”

“Not at all. I was the one who asked, and it’s fascinating to hear such long-ago events from the perspective of a modern young lady. Have you ever considered becoming a historian or an archaeologist?”

Your good mood immediately faded upon hearing that. “No, Monsieur,” you said, sounding curter than you meant to. “I have not. Being a governess is my sole goal in life.”

Neuvillette seemed to sense your shift in mood, and the corners of his eyes lowered in regret. “My apologies. I have overstepped my bounds. But still, I do believe that the academic world is missing a brilliant mind like yours.”

You knew he was just being kind, but you still couldn’t help but feel a bit proud. And guilty. Your personal issues weren’t his problem. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“I must admit, I had a very different impression of you from when we first met.”

“You did?” What he said baffled you. You always considered yourself to be a straightforward, “what you see is what you get” kind of person.

“Yes. I assumed you to be much more somber and cynical, but you’re nothing of that sort. You’re much livelier and passionate than you seem.”

“No, I’d say you were right the first time, Monsieur,” you said, amused. Lively and passionate were not words you had ever heard yourself associated with. “I think everyone acts different when they’re talking about the things they like, because they’re really talking about themselves. For instance, my sister loves to tease most of the time, but she gets deathly serious when it comes to shoes. I’m sure even you have moments like that, Monsieur.”

“No, I’m afraid not. My emotions are not so mutable or varied as yours.”

“Hmm…” you stared at him. It was true that his face wasn’t very expressive, but many people had said the same thing of you and assumed that you were unfeeling, which you knew wasn’t true. Perhaps it was the same for him.

The scent of coffee caught your attention as you realized that you were standing in front of the Café. “Ah, this is where I was heading, Monsieur. Would you like to, ah, join me?” you said awkwardly.

“I would be delighted to, but I am in fact invited to the opera house for a special performance, so unfortunately, I must decline.”

“A performance, huh. That sounds wonderful. Well, I mustn’t keep you then. Goodbye, Monsieur Neuvillette.”

“Goodbye, Miss [Name]. Have a lovely day.”

You watched him as he left. You had been looking forward to your reading time, but now you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely.

“Congratulations, Miss [Name], you are successfully qualified as a Court of Fontaine-licensed governess.”

The Gestionnaire’s monotone voice did little to dampen your excitement! You did it! After all your hard work and perseverance, you had finally obtained what you longed for.

“Now, you will be placed on the waiting list.”

You felt your smile drop off your face. “Waiting list?”

“There is a large volume of applicants whose applications are waiting to be processed before yours. Not to mention, there is currently a surplus of governesses in Fontaine. You need to wait for the older ones to retire before taking their spots,” the Gestionnaire dropped their voice to a whisper. “I would advise you to reconsider your career aspirations. If you want, you can also be placed on the waiting list for schoolteacher licenses.”

You frowned. School teachers were a somewhat less respectable profession for noble ladies than governess. It wasn’t as bad as laborer or factory worker, but it was still cause for other nobles to gossip about your family behind their backs.

For poor, low-ranking nobles, a spotless reputation was as valuable as gold. Any perceived blemish could attach undesirable labels that would take generations to erase. You thought of your beautiful, angelic sister, smiling so happily with that viscount’s son. That fragile relationship could be so easily snuffed out by a single bad rumor.

There were other jobs open to you, such as lady’s companion. However, you knew yourself well enough to know that you wouldn’t last very long in a role like that.

But on the other hand, you were desperate. You needed to fulfill your role for the sake of your family’s future and your own.

“Okay, put me on that list too,” you nodded tightly. “How long is it?”

“For both lists, it would take at least a year before we reach your application.”

“A year!?” you said. You hadn’t intended to sound angry, but the Gestionnaire recoiled. You forced yourself to calm down. Getting angry wouldn’t help your case.

A year was far too long. You lived in a boarding house in the centre of the city, and your savings were running out quickly. You didn’t even know if you would be able to pay next month’s rent. As a governess, you were supposed to receive a stipend for the first few months after obtaining your license as you searched for work, but those hopes were now dashed.

You thanked the Gestionnaire and left the Palais Mermonia with heavy steps, eventually ending up at the Café Lucerne. You considered going to a tavern to drown your sorrows in drink but decided against it. You were angry and frustrated, yes, but not to the point of doing something so foolish.

So, instead of a nice bottle of alcohol, you ordered five bottles of Fonta. Maybe you could drown your sorrows with their refreshing taste instead.

You slumped in your chair as you guzzled down the first bottle. You didn’t get it. You had worked so hard to fulfill the role granted to you by fate, and yet an obstacle was inexplicably placed on your path. It was such an inoffensive, unassuming role, so why...?

And what were you going to do from now on?

You could go home. Your family lived in a small town that was some distance away from the Court of Fontaine. But you would rather not. You had moved out in the first place to alleviate the financial burden on your family, and if you did move back, you would have to endure your mother’s tireless attempts to find you a husband.

You tilted your head back and stared up at the sky. It was a clear blue, not a single cloud in sight. It felt like it was mocking you.

Just then, a pale face framed with long silver hair blocked your sight. Lilac eyes looked down into your own.

Of course he would be the one to witness your current state. You wouldn’t be surprised if you went home and found him in your sitting room at this point.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you stood up and curtseyed half-heartedly. “As you can see, I’m no state to keep you company today. Please feel free to converse with someone else."

Neuvillette did not leave, but instead surveyed your surroundings. His brow furrowed at the bottles of Fonta.

He sat down across from you.

“My apologies for being so presumptuous, but I simply cannot stand by and watch you in such a state. Please, tell me what is distressing you.”

You stared at him. He was leaning forward, his eyes brimming with concern. Even though you barely knew him and was still considering just excusing yourself and leaving...

You sat back down and told him what just happened and your current circumstances. As you did so, you felt hot tears building up at the back of your eyes. You squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop them from coming out. You prided yourself on never crying, on taking what life threw at you without complaint. But there was also another reason, something you were surprised to admit even to yourself.

You didn’t want Neuvillette to see you cry.

It was a pathetic wish, but you wanted to show your best side to him. You wanted him to keep being impressed by you.

You didn’t know if Neuvillette picked up on your feelings. You hoped not. If he tried to comfort you, you would really lose control.

It felt colder than it did a few seconds ago. The area darkened; the shadows of clouds casted onto the ground. You could hear the people around you discussing if it was going to rain. Perfect. You would welcome rain at this point.

Neuvillette didn’t say anything for a while after you finished talking. You wondered if he understood what you told him. Surely the Iudex, the highest authority figure in the land next to the Hydro Archon, would find the concept of financial issues foreign?

You decided to grab another bottle of Fonta. But just as you reached for it, Neuvillette’s hand blocked yours and gently placed it down on the table.

Unaware of your reeling, he spoke in a quiet voice. “I can see that you’re in an extremely difficult situation, Miss [Name]. It troubles me greatly.”

You simply nodded. What else was there to say.

“I would like to propose an... unorthodox solution to your problems. One that would be beneficial for both of us.”

You looked up at him at that. You had expected him to tell you to go back home and tell your parents what happened and obey their wishes. But Neuvillette himself was offering a solution? What could it be?

Every nerve in your body was telling you that this could lead to nothing good. You usually trusted your instincts, as they were always right, but currently you were desperate enough to listen to anything.

“What do you propose, Monsieur?”

“Marry me.”

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#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #my works #the winding path of fate

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paingoes · 4 months ago

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Destroyer - A Sentence of Sorts

(Masterlist)

(Content: mass death, alcohol, physical abuse, verbal abuse, guilt, self loathing, minor suicidal ideation, implied self harm)

=======================

Delta read the death toll again. 2,367 was the beginner estimate. There was not as much outcry as there was about Lemuria, nor was there the same circus of gore. The fact that it was an attack on Nezu did little to comfort him. He didn’t care for the nuances. In him there was an almost childlike sensibility. He diligently added the new deaths to his personal count. In his half-asleep state, what felt like the great tragedy was not the number itself, but the fact that it could never be reduced. It was the math he was fixated on. It wasn’t fair.

He realized quickly after re-entering the Empire portal that it had been bifurcated between the two sides of the war. He also realized, to his shock, that he’d been grouped into Nezu’s side. He’d actually forgotten that he’d stolen the laptop from one of Nezu’s people. They must have been either dead or on vacation; no one else was ever active on any of the accounts. He had to re-configure a lot of the settings and passwords to regain access to the portal, no doubt indicating a massive security crisis on their side. He scanned the bulletin they’d posted. Saber rattling. In memoriam.

Empire could not afford this war. They’d already stretched themselves thin across the different fronts, practically at the height of their expansionism when the Emperor had died. They faced opposition from a host of recognized nations, as well as a new crop of organized resistance groups that existed solely to topple the whole thing. Empire still wasn’t weak, not by any stretch of the imagination. Its power structure was decentralized enough to survive the past months without anyone at the helm. But Paris and Nezu forcing Empire in half threatened to break the entire web into a whole spectrum of disjointed pieces.

Delta paused. Did he want that? He thought of it as a kind of apocalypse scenario, but he supposed it was technically in alignment with his own goals. With the civil war raging, Empire was planting the seeds of its own demise. But they were just seeds.

He looked back at the death toll. There’d be hell to pay before it finally broke apart.

He posted the next leak to a new thread, quickly shutting out of the tab before he had time to see anyone’s reaction. He updated semi-regularly now, attaching both current plans and declassifying older files from the early days of Empire. The latter was more for his own curiosity than anything else. To him, it felt like a small act. He was used to the light shows, bold acts of destruction and slaughter. Working with intel was so much subtler; it was hard to trace any development back to something he had released. All he had were suspicions, really. Suspicions and a few messages.

katkittykat: ok rlly can i ask where ur getting this shit

katkittykat: whos ur connection hehehe :3

ndhakdvsnnd: nobody and i dont know what youre talking about

katkittykat: its a lil late to play coy yknow

katkittykat: u dont have 2 b scared of me!!! i want to help u

ndhakdvsnnd: shut up

katkittykat: wtf!!! rude >:3

katkittykat: pretend that face is frowning but its still a cat

katkittykat: wait i got it

katkittykat: /ᐠoᆽoᐟ \╭∩╮

sunspot: Hey thanks again for the leak !! Im sorry about kitty actually im sorry about both of us

sunspot: We arent trying to push you into anything really we are just curious about you

sunspot: Sorry if its stressing you out i would probably be stressed out too in your situation

ndhakdvsnnd: you dont know fuck about my situation

sunspot: Yeah thats true! But I know youve been helping us a lot and we are kind of worried about you

ndhakdvsnnd: who is we why do you keep saying we

ndhakdvsnnd: yes you are stressing me the fuck out thanks for acknowledging that

ndhakdvsnnd: didnt you say you were going to stop prying id really appreciate it if you did

sunspot: Fair enough! I havent been that upfront with you either so I guess i am not in a position to be asking so much. If you want to know what is happening on our end i will tell you and maybe that will help?

ndhakdvsnnd: okay

ndhakdvsnnd: not now

sunspot: Talk later?

ndhakdvsnnd: i have to go

sunspot: Okay be careful then!

ndhakdvsnnd: thanks

Delta exited out. He got other messages - many, many others - but none as annoyingly persistent as those two. He didn’t know why he kept talking to them. When they answered, it was bad. When they didn’t, it was even worse. He stepped away from the computer, badly needing a break. He wouldn’t get it, of course, not for more than five minutes. He needed to go see Paris.

==========================

The bottle almost nailed him in the fucking head. Delta hissed, softly, his bright eyes flashing violently.

“You’re late,” Paris let his head loll a little, a lazy smile quirking at his lips. Delta didn’t bother trying to defend himself. His vocal cords were still burnt out, rendering him mute for a time. He moved to the prince’s side, dropping into a kneel. Paris backhanded him before he’d even gotten all the way down. Eager today. Delta winced, immediately moving to touch the tender skin. He knew it had broken; Paris had blood on his ring. He grabbed Delta’s wrist before it could make contact and did not let go.

“Take your hair out,” He ordered. Oh. Delta had forgotten. Paris still didn’t let go of his wrist, so he had to remove the tie with one hand. He slipped it onto his wrist, letting his hair fall loosely down his back.

“Let me see,” Paris said. Delta tilted his head a little, not understanding. After a minute, he offered Paris his other hand. Paris slid the hair tie off, doubling it over a few times to bind Delta’s wrists together. Delta let them fall in his lap. Not a particularly difficult restraint to get out of, but that didn’t matter. Delta knew better than to try it.

He didn’t understand why Paris had started calling him here again. Besides the little indiscretions with the laptop, he’d been on his best behavior. He had honestly been trying to make it easier on him, but it had no effect. Paris had been difficult before the accident. These days, he was impossible.

He was also tipsy, which was historically worse. Drunk enough to lose any inhibitions, but not drunk enough to let Delta get away with anything. It was a losing game. He was almost glad he couldn’t speak; at least he couldn’t say the wrong thing and send the prince off in a spiral. It was all too easy to do that now, but nobody paid for it the way Delta did.

“Why did you change?”

That caught him off guard. Delta could’ve asked him the exact same thing, of course. But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was so unfair. Paris, who had all the social grace of a methed up honeybadger, could still read people without any apparent effort. Delta wilted a little bit under his gaze, a small pang of guilt striking him. He thought again about destroying the computer. He thought about it everyday. He bowed his head in apology. Not good enough, apparently. Paris kicked him onto his back. Unable to catch himself, he knocked his head into the carpet, wind knocked out from the blow. Paris had stood up.

“You think I can’t tell?” His voice was unsteady, pitchy, the way it had been ever since he got back. He was getting worked up, Delta could tell. He stifled a groan. This was going to be a long night.

“I was only out for a fucking month, what changed? Why is everyone acting like the show is over?”

Delta felt a sudden kick in his side. Paris gripped his collar. He was light; it was not hard to drag Delta off the ground, even unwillingly. Paris only did it half-way, throwing him back into the desk. Delta’s back slammed into it, again unable to catch himself. He bounced off it, back onto the ground. Slowly, he repositioned himself into a kneel, more muscle memory than conscious effort.

“You know all this could have been prevented if he just wrote a will. The old man thought he would never die. They pierced me right though the exact same place they got him, you know that? Just an inch from the heart. I didn’t ask for a civil war. It’s my birthright, I shouldn’t have to-“

Paris slapped him in the face, “Are you even listening? This is about you.”

Delta nodded, even though it clearly wasn’t. He knew Paris was just taking his anger out on him because he was there — because he couldn’t do anything about it. Delta accepted this with the kind of quiet resignation that only ever seemed to irritate the situation.

“Fucking stop!” The prince yelled. God, he was never happy. He circled behind Delta, landing a kick squarely on his shoulderblades. It sent him forward, onto his hands and knees. Before he could recover, Paris kicked him again in the side, with enough force that he fell flat onto the carpet. For some reason, the rug caught his eye. It was weaved of soft blue fiber.

Delta thought of Lemuria — and of the ocean. Paris kicked him in the stomach, but he didn’t hear what he said. 2,367 dead, in addition to the 22,534 previous. They were all-star numbers. Paris knocked his leg out, forcing Delta flat on his back. He straddled his waist, which Delta admittedly found much harder to ignore. He winced as Paris’s hands wrapped around his throat, the one still too burnt for him to speak with. His collar gave off a little dryer spark; Paris cursed. Delta thought of all the lives he’d destroyed in the past months alone, the ones he’d never know, the count that would never go down. What kind of terror did they feel in their final moments? How badly did it burn? He didn’t fight as Paris beat him. Fair is fair. Even as the grip tightened, threatening to choke off his air, he didn’t resist it. It was right that he should die. It would be right if he died 25,000 times over.

Paris didn’t give him the satisfaction. His eyes had been burning above him, but they gradually turned to cinders, the pressure letting up. He didn’t look much calmer, but he did look exhausted. He was still injured. The beating might’ve taken more out of him than it did Delta.

Delta couldn’t ask to be dismissed. He wouldn’t have. When Paris did throw him out, he felt a vague and numinous dissatisfaction. He was being punished for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t enough. In the hallway, he unbinded his own hands. He pulled the band back against his wrist, letting it snap hard against the skin.

#whump #whump community #whump scenario #living weapon whumpee #whump prompt #living weapon #mass death #alcohol #physical abuse #verbal abuse #guilt #self loathing #minor suicidal ideation #implied self harm #delta #paris #kitty

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piqtescue · 2 years ago

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Compiled list + yt links of some early Thomas Gibson movies

It is literally a crime not to share these with you guys. These are also some of the films that I get most of my edit content from when it comes to younger Thomas. All are full youtube links, no parts. Fav one on the list is definitely where he plays a gay Canadian actor👀

✨More of Thomas's Early Works + Youtube Links can be found here.✨

~The List~

Raising Waylon (2004) Thomas plays Reg, a guy who along with his ex, become guardians to his friend's kid.

Love & Human Remains (1993) Thomas plays David, a failed Canadian actor who is staying with his ex Candy, whom he dated before coming out as homosexual.

The Lost Empire/Monkey King (2001) Thomas plays Nicolas Orton, an American businessman that has lived in China for several years.

The Devil's Child (1997) Thomas plays... um.. Lucifer. Peak "niche movie thomas once starred in"

/ignore bulletin

Nightmare Street (1998) Thomas plays Dr. Matt Westbrook, and helps guide a confused woman to the truth around her situation. This was a total fever dream but Thomas was adORABLE in it.

hopefully I can find more full movies featuring Thomas up on youtube- enjoy the finds so far!

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outofconcheol · 1 year ago

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Collision (LMH x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you'd spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: brief, non-graphic smut, minor alcohol mention, brief swearing, more warnings to come with the final fic

word count: 1.3k for the teaser

a/n: roman empire this, roman empire that. what if I told you my roman empire was this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? like i literally haven't gone a day without thinking about it since i saw it, so of course it's spiraled into a full fic. also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (not at all). this teaser is very unedited, and subject to change, but hopefully you'll enjoy the fic when it comes out! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth.

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phone. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left.

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, loom over the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaned against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile, because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind.

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to this summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fading as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he’s pushing you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your stomach, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when he tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him, before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams.

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer.

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.

Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, and his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

a/n pt 2: i hope you’re as excited as I am! i don't really have an anticipated release date for this, but it's just something i'm working on for fun!

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literallyjustanerd · 6 months ago

Text

At Sunset In Summer - I

Omega is ready to join The Rebellion. Hunter is not.

This was a really fun piece, and I'm actually pretty proud of how it turned out :) Enjoy 7k words of Hunter failing to talk about his feelings.

Thanks @saradika for the divider! And thanks @morphofan for the inspiration for the last chapter. Your post hurt me and I hope to do the same :)

Next Chapter

Chapter One - Autumn

The sun is still warm, though the wind carries a slight chill. Just enough to nip at Hunter's fingertips, an omen of the coming winter. Still, he keeps the window open for the view. Pabu is ablaze with reds and yellows, the changing leaves incandescent under the setting sun.

He’s enjoying the warmth on his face when Omega enters, laden with a heavy basket of produce from the market.

“Careful with those. You look like you’re about to tip over,” Hunter chuckles, only briefly glancing up from the filleted fish on the cutting board.

“Lyana says it's a good harvest this year,” Omega replies brightly. She sets the basket down next to the fish with a barely-disguised grunt, and hops up to sit on the counter. “Even the meilooruns are cheaper than usual.”

“Don't tell Wrecker, they'll be gone in a day,” Hunter jokes. “Now what did I say about sitting on the bench? Get down from there and help me with dinner.”

Hunter had never thought of himself as someone who could enjoy routine, let alone thrive on it. But in the years since they had found their peace on Pabu, he has been lulled by the simple, easy rhythms of daily life, and found comfort in the small rituals they create. He rises early in the morning. He works, he tends the garden. He sews patches in his family's worn clothes. And he's never been happier.

Omega hops off the bench and pulls out a pot to start on the vegetables. As she does, she flicks on the subspace radio on the windowsill and tunes it to her usual station. The music puts a bounce in her step as she peels and slices the tubers, and Hunter can't help but smile. It’s a familiar song, a tawdry pop tune Hunter had always found overloud and irritating. It’s a favourite of Omega’s, though, and she hums along as they work side by side. The moment is mundane, like so many thousands over the last five years. They have never stopped feeling like blessings.

“Wrecker and Cross should be back from the docks soon,” Omega says, giving the pot a shake. “Think they were going to help Shep repair some of the ships after their haul.”

Hunter adds the first fish to the pot as the song fades out. It's replaced by a news bulletin, read in a strong, stern voice.

At the first mention of Ryloth, the sun's warmth is stolen from the room. Hunter glances to the side: Omega's hand has tightened on the pot handle, frozen in place. There's an anxious flutter in Hunter's ear: her pulse has quickened. The radio speaks of the smothered rebellion on Ryloth as a cause for celebration. The newsreader espouses the joy of a coming peace, of unity within The Empire's broad embrace. Under the flowery language, Hunter can hear the Twi’leks’ desperate struggle for freedom.

“Rebel extremists have attempted to retake the system's capital, though losses have been minimal. Sources say Imperial casualties are far outweighed by those of the insurgents.”

“I've been speaking to Hera.”

Omega's words bring a lump to Hunter’s throat. She's not looking at him, not even facing him. Her words are icy around the edges. “It's getting really bad out there.”

He can't say he hasn't been expecting this for some time. But not now. Please, not now. He's not ready.

“Omega—”

“They need pilots. The Rebellion are doing what they can, but people are still suffering.”

“The Rebellion will find its volunteers. People will go. Your place is here,” Hunter says, his tone clipped. The scrape of his knife against the fishscale grates against his nerves. It only drives his hand harder on the blade.

“Imperial reports predict that the rebel terrorists on Ryloth will be eliminated within the month.”

“People are losing their homes, their families. They’re giving their lives. How am I supposed to sit here when I know I should be helping?”

The sun through the window is losing its battle against the horizon. The room has begun to dim, the light turning cold and blue.

“It's not safe for you out there.”

“I know it's not! That's the point, I—”

“I said no, Omega!” Hunter’s knife spears the cutting board, cleaving the fish's head from its body. His words are harsh, a barking command, and it feels discordant, out of place. Hunter hasn't used that voice in years. Not since the battlefield. As much as he instantly regrets the outburst, it still has its desired effect: Omega falls silent, her protests all but dried up in her throat.

For longer than Hunter can bear to count, neither of them move, neither speak. His jaw is tight, his nerves frayed against the jagged silence. The sharp staccato of Omega’s heartbeat hammers in his ear. She inhales softly, trying to smother it, but still Hunter can hear how her breath trembles. Outside, the last dregs of warmth have abandoned them. The sun drowns slowly in the black ocean below. Hunter wants to apologise. He wants to explain. He wants to take his little girl in his arms and hold her so close to him, have her bury her head in his chest like she used to after a nightmare, trusting him, asking him to keep her safe.

But many seasons have passed since she had last needed him for that kind of comfort. And now when she hugs him, her head reaches higher than his.

He means to apologise. He does. But the words don't come. They're smothered, crushed between the weight of the past at his back and the future ahead. His mind swims, a sordid mess of tangled thoughts and feelings he can't hope to decode into anything logical. So instead, he reaches up with unsteady hands, and closes the windows against the creeping chill. He switches off the murmuring radio. He continues slicing fish. Over his shoulder, he hears Omega move. She bends to the bottom cupboard to pull out plates and cups, and, stoic and wordless, with eyes downturned, she begins setting the table for dinner.

For all his guilt, Hunter can't help but feel relieved that the conversation is over.

#tbb #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb fic #clone trooper hunter #tbb omega #hunter and omega #drabble #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction

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