#I saw her first does not excuse any of your terrible behavior up until your feelings revelation dude | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years ago

Text

IOTA Reviews: Rocketear

The Rocketeer is a 1991 Disney movie set in 1930's America where a test pilot gets a jetpack and uses it to fight Nazis and— Wait, what? “Rocketear”? Oh, damn it!

Let's get into the eleventh (chronologically the seventeenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Rocketear.

We start off with Carapace and Cat Noir struggling to hold back some T-Rexes brought back to life by a scientist Jurassic Park style. Seriously, they reference the movie in the same scene.

Why wasn't this the plot of the episode again?

After managing to tame the dinosaurs with a whistle of all things, Ladybug notices something's wrong with Nino after he gives the Turtle Miraculous back to her. Apparently, he's wondering why Rena Rouge (who he knows is Alya) wasn't recruited with him today. Ladybug tells him that he was the only help she needed today. In reality, it's because Alya has adjusted to her new role of supporting Ladybug behind the scenes in her new form, Rena Furtive.

And I'm not a fan of the new form. I get the camo, but it doesn't really help her blend in when her suit is bright blue. I think it's based off the arctic fox, but that animal is able to camouflage itself because it's fur matches the snowy environment. I'm sure a bright blue jumpsuit won't stand out when she tries to blend in at all. Also, the fact that Alya can just change her hero form gives even less excuses as to why Ladybug's new form is only when she uses her Lucky Charm.

Alya is struggling to keep this a secret from Nino because they don't have a lot of secrets in their relationship. Marinette says she can kind of get it because she had to keep her identity a secret from her friend and has to keep keeping her identity a secret from everyone else. Basically, she's telling Alya to suck it up because this is what being a superhero is.

So the next time she sees Nino, Alya tells him she's no longer Rena Rouge, but not about Rena Furtive, which troubles her. The very next scene shows Alya showing Marinette pictures she took of her new costume and asking her which version looks better.

You could always try reviewing Akuma fights. I heard there's one blog that does it when they're not criticizing the famous director Thomas Astruc on social media.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, Alya was only able to rent her brain for a few episodes because she really doesn't seem as understanding about being a superhero as she was in earlier episodes. In episodes like “Optigami” and “Sentibubbler”, we saw Alya use more strategy and show discretion as Rena Rouge, seemingly taking her job more seriously, but then this episode just had to go and piss it all away. I also love how the first time the animators made Alya's skin the same when she's transformed is in a single frame for a joke.

Alya thankfully deletes the picture, but Nino overhears her talking about struggling to find more content for the Ladyblog, and decides to go to the movies with her to help take her mind off things. Nino, in turn, proceeds to give the same reaction to the in-universe Ladybug movie that Astruc gives to the PV.

Apparently, that movie's already getting a sequel and it has a teaser. So was the sequel animated at the same time as the original like Back to the Future Part II and Back to the Future Part III?

Nino gets pissed the next movie in the Ladybug Cinematic Universe will feature Rena Rouge and not Carapace... even though Rena Rouge debuted first. The teaser then shows Rena Rouge falling for Cat Noir (yet another creative liberty taken by the writers or something Astruc's self-insert threw in himself), and takes it like it's the real thing. Dude, the first movie said Ladybug was afraid of cats, and the director yelled at the person it was based on for judging it. He clearly has a hard time distinguishing fiction from reality.

Alya leaves Nino early so she can go on patrol, but Nino sees Cat Noir heading out as well. He then watches a video on the Ladyblog where Alya praises Cat Noir which is totally not Astruc projecting or anything.

I don't know what your definition of a prince is, Alya, and I honestly don't want to know.

So Nino takes this as evidence that Alya is in love with Cat Noir and decides to tell Adrien, who naturally laughs him off. And just before you think we have an episode where Adrien plays the straight man, Adrien decides to visit Alya because he's afraid he accidentally charmed Alya.

Yes, because Cat Noir is so charming, girls are just fighting over him, aren't they?

We then cut to a black and white film noir monologue by Nino (dressed like a detective with a fake mustache), who decides to spy on Alya. When Cat Noir asks Alya if she is attracted to him, she naturally laughs him off, though Cat Noir is thankfully a good sport about it, even giving her a hug to apologize. Unfortunately, Nino took this the wrong way.

The next day at school, Nino takes Adrien into his “office” (it's really an excuse to reuse the boiler room setpiece), and shows him the picture of the hug. Adrien says that Alya would never fall for Cat Noir because she's always dedicated to finding out the truth and telling her boyfriend everything. What's Nino's retort?

Okay, several problems with this bit. First of all, why would Nino even tell Adrien any of this? What would it accomplish? Why not say all this to Alya while confronting her about her alleged unfaithfulness? Second, Ladybug didn't give Nino and Alya their Miraculous at the same time until it was an absolute emergency. She outright said in “Hero's Day” that she didn't have time to recruit Nino and Alya separately.

Ladybug: I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I know I'm revealing your secret identities but I don't have time to find a good excuse to give them to you separately. Rena Rouge and Carapace, I need you both!

Nino and Alya kept their identities secret from each other until then, with Alya even keeping the fact she knew who Carapace was a secret as well. Nino didn't find out because “they don't hide anything from each other” (which I plan to talk about later).

Other than that, I actually liked Adrien in this scene. It was really investing to see him try to justify the whole secret identities rule while Nino blatantly said there was an exception. This is the kind of stuff I wanted to see when it came to Adrien doubting Ladybug, not him destroying things in his anger.

While Nino rants about how Cat Noir “stole” Alya from him, Shadowmoth sends an Akuma his way, turning him into Rocketear.

And the design he has is just boring. It's just a blue jumpsuit with some black spots that look like teardrops, a teardrop-shaped head and a visor. I think the reason this season's been relying more on past Akumas and using more Sentimonsters is because DQ is terrible at character designs. I mean, compare this suit with Aigraon from Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger (his Power Rangers counterpart is Wrench from Dino Charge).

The design does so much more with the teardrop motif, giving him a perpetually miserable face with tear lines going all over his body. Add that to a more diverse color scheme, and you have a much more visually stunning design. And this was created in real life, not rendered on a computer. I'm not sure if this is a budget thing or a laziness thing, but if it's the former, you really need to do better, animators.

The powers are meh, giving Nino the ability to fling explosive tears at enemies. It's a clever idea, and it makes sense he gets a power that parallels Cat Noir's, but I think maybe it would have been more interesting if he couldn't control the tears at all. Like, imagine if he was constantly crying like Blue Diamond, and with every tear he shed, Rocketeer could send it at whoever he felt was causing him misery, mainly Cat Noir, all while serving as a metaphor for people who blame others for their own personal issues. Better yet, make him look like the detective outfit Nino wore for the second act. It would have made him more unpredictable instead of making his tears generic projectile weapons.

Marinette and Alya see the fight and transform into Ladybug and Rena Furtive respectively, the former summoning her Lucky Charm, a projector. Is it just me, or has this been happening with Ladybug a lot recently?

Back to Rocketear, we get a good moment where Cat Noir intentionally lets the Akuma hit him so he can get a chance to resolve things diplomatically. See, this is a moment where Cat Noir's self-sacrificing nature feels heroic and not selfish like when he does it without Ladybug's permission to spite her. Unfortunately, it doesn't really go anywhere as Ladybug shows up and plays the recording Nino took (Alya found his phone earlier), while Rena Furtive uses her Mirage to give the audio to what actually happened that night.

Rena transforms back into Alya and embraces Rocketear, who apologizes to her for his behavior. And then he just... rejects Shadowmoth's power while looking like it wasn't that much effort.

At least when Chloe and Alya did it, we saw them struggling for a little longer. I guess maybe it's because Nino is motivated by his love for Alya, but I think it should have been fleshed out more. So Ladybug purifies the Akuma, gives Nino a Magical Charm, and Cat Noir is still unsure about his feelings for Ladybug at the moment, though they still pound it.

Back in his room, Adrien ponders why Alya and Nino get to know their identities while he and Ladybug can't, but Plagg points out it's because she's the Guardian. It's brief, but I do like seeing Adrien start to doubt Ladybug's judgment, and it looks like it'll foreshadow future episodes. This is a problem I've had since “Hero's Day”, and I'm glad the writers are finally acknowledging this double standard. I just hope they don't end up blaming Marinette for whatever happens later on.

Marinette, of course, apologizes for what happened between Alya and Nino, and I have to say... yeah, no. It's obviously Nino's fault here.

Nino really pushed personal boundaries in this episode, much like Marinette's friends in “Gang of Secrets”. Yes, honesty is a valuable trait, but sometimes, people have secrets they want to keep to themselves. Nino's idea of “not hiding anything from each other” is somewhat controlling, like he's demanding Alya tell him everything whether she wants to or not. The fact that he immediately assumed Alya was cheating on him without giving her freedom to make her own choices doesn't make him look good. Let's be honest, a more realistic outcome would be Alya choosing to break things off with Nino or at least lecture him about how she can do what she wants and keep the secrets she wants. But instead...

And that's how the episode ends.

Okay, Marinette just said she trusted Alya to make the right decision, but I highly doubt she meant this. Marinette strictly said Alya had to keep Rena Furtive a secret, and now she's telling Nino this despite the risk? The whole reason Marinette and Luka broke up was because Marinette had to keep her secrets from Luka, but now it's okay for Alya to be completely honest? How is this not a double standard?

This episode was just dull, and there’s not even much I can really say about it.. There were a handful of standout moments, and the stuff with Adrien was somewhat compelling, but Nino's behavior was just insufferable and dragged the episode down. The Akuma fight was weak, only lasting about four minutes at most, and while the Lucky Charm was more creative this time, the plot was just frustrating. It's really one of the weaker episodes this season.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch the better Rocketeer.

260 notes · View notes

greensaplinggrace · 3 years ago

Note

So you mentioned in another post that you have some strong thoughts on Baghra, especially about how the story frames her as one of the good guys. I would love to hear about it.

@youremotionallystablefriend: I would love to hear you rant about Baghra if you feel like it (and haven’t already)! Personally I don’t think she gets enough constructive critique in the fandom for being the one that brought Aleks up and for the way she treated her pupils and especially Alina :/

Anon: Hello! I love your thoughts on the grisha books. I'm actually interested to hear your take on Baghra

@misku-nimfa: If you are up for it, I would love to read your thoughts on Baghra or your full critique of society in the Grishaverse. Your analysis is really well structured and interesting! ^.^

Anon: Hi! I saw your recent post and was wondering if you'd share more of your thoughts on Baghra?

---

Hello everyone! I was honestly very surprised to see so many people interested in my thoughts on Baghra? I'll share what I can, but please know that this is by no means a full breakdown of her character! It’s just some Thoughts I’ve had, and they’re mostly centered around show Baghra because that’s how I was first introduced to her character. Although IMO book Baghra might actually be even worse.

I’d like to preface this by saying that many of my issues with the treatment of Baghra as a character in fandom come from the wild double standard there seems to be regarding her and the Darkling. Darkling Antis and a vast majority of the people in this fandom who don’t like his character have a disturbing habit of absolutely ripping into the Darkling for all of his faults and then turning around and treating Baghra as some sort of pristine mother figure for the exact same shit.

They’ll talk about how badass she is, how strong she is, how they sympathize with her past (although they’ll continue to dehumanize the Darkling and refuse to sympathize with his own past) and sympathize with the fact that she has to deal with the Darkling (who’s always referred to as a monster she must corral or control, as if he is inhumane and beastly. These particular comments always take on the very distinct tone of victim blaming as well). They’ll laud her for all of these “powerful girlboss” moments as if they aren’t carbon copies of the Darkling’s own behavior - as if they aren’t things Baghra herself taught him. Which is why this is the wildest double standard of all to me, because every horrible action they praise Baghra for is something she taught the Darkling, and something they cannot stand to see in him as well.

It’s as if there’s a disconnect between their consumption of the literature when it comes to the two characters, and I’m of the opinion that it’s largely because Baghra is a woman and a mother and therefore infantilized in the fandom quite a bit. In fact, Bardugo herself often infantilizes many of her female characters in her writing. This is mostly through the process of excusing their terrible deeds, not allowing them to do anything remotely dark, or brushing any morally grey actions under the rug without ever touching upon them. Which puts me in the strange position of knowing I’m supposed to sympathize with Baghra for having to deal with the monster she’s created, and instead feeling resentful of the fact that this bitter woman is held up as this wise old strict teacher instead of the abusive mentor/mother she should have been.

Now, here’s what I said to make so many of you send me asks:

Last note, in reference to your first line, and also probably a pretty unpopular opinion. I do not like Baghra. And it legit has nothing to do with the Darkling or with Alina, I just don't like her "I'm going to hit you and berate you and emotionally abuse you and manipulate you and act like the good guy at the end of it" vibe she's got going on. At least Aleksander is acknowledged as the villain within the narrative. Idk wtf Baghra is on but it's absolutely wild to me that people aren't more critical of her actions. Which is, rather fortunately for you, another rant I will save for another post if anybody ever wants to hear it lol. (but like kudos to Baghra's actress. I loved the character as a character, I just don't like the way she's framed as a good guy. Weird. Uncomfortable. She literally set bees on the kids she was teaching).

This basically summarizes most of my thoughts on Baghra as a character and how she’s portrayed. I touched on it a bit above, but the way she’s able to get away with so much and not suffer under heavier critique is honestly baffling to me. There should be a lot more criticism of her out there in the fandom. This is the woman who abused her students and neglected her son. Although to be honest I don’t even know how to quite describe the emotionally neglectful yet unhealthily codependent bond she fostered in him from a young age. IMO, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander is creepy, and I know she has a history that makes it more understandable, but it’s still incredibly disconcerting to witness.

But let’s get back on track! First of all, her students. Whom she physically, emotionally, and mentally abuses. She’s derisive, she’s insulting, she’s belittling. She works hard to strip them of any self confidence they may have. She uses pain as a means of triggering powers. And the strict teacher excuse doesn’t fly. The “it’s only a training method!” excuse is even worse. This is literal abuse she’s heaping on her students and it’s wretched.

The first thing she does to Alina when they first meet is insult her. Then she hits her. Then she kicks her out.

Second time they interact is a montage. Baghra hits Alina multiple times. She shames her. And then when Alina actually calls a light she tells her it’s not nearly enough, effectively wiping the smile off of her face and every sign of self confidence that had been building. Then we see the door to Baghra’s hut shut in Alina’s face. So now she has been bruised, battered, berated, stripped of all self confidence, and then banished again. As training methods go, this is not only entirely ineffective, but it’s also just abusive.

Then we get this interaction between Alina and her friends:

Marie: One time, Baghra released a hive of bees on me. Nadia: Worst part is, it worked. Marie: It really did. I could summon at will after that.

Which is fucking horrifying and not talked about nearly enough. That goes beyond hitting your students. Baghra used a fear tactic on a young girl to activate her powers. She literally tortured Marie to make her powers work.

Alina throughout this conversation is looking very disheartened. She’s lacking in any self confidence and the comment about the bees has clearly affected her. For someone who’s first words to Alina were “Everyone believes that you are the one. Come back when you believe it too,” Baghra doesn’t exactly seem keen on Alina actually believing she’s the one. If she did, she wouldn’t be stripping her of every positive emotion associated with sun summoning.

Let’s not forget that Baghra demeans Alina multiple times for her status as an orphan. How she utilizes what she knows of Alina’s emotional weaknesses to provoke her and discourage her and make her angry.

And then Baghra drugs her without consent. To take advantage of any information Alina gives her in that state. To use the way Alina reacts for her own ends.

Because why else would she say this?:

Alina: We planned to run away together. Baghra: You had plans. Perhaps he never did, because where is he now?

Which is, strangely enough, the same sense of isolation and separation from Mal and her past that Aleksander is attempting to foster. Weird how mother and son are both using the same manipulation tactics.

In fact, why does Baghra never tell Alina about the letters until she’s already engaged with Aleksander? Baghra must have known he was taking them. Alina talks about it enough. Baghra must have known he was isolating her from Mal. How could she not, when it’s revealed later that she has spies in the Little Palace collecting information on him? How could she not, when she knows he’s the villain from the beginning - when she knows he’s manipulating Alina?

Baghra knows, and yet she keeps the same lies Aleksander does and furthermore uses that information to make Alina feel even more isolated and weak. Baghra literally just piggy-backs on Aleksander’s manipulation and then exacerbates it. She wants Alina to feel no attachments to her past because she wants to use Alina as well. But for some reason, because this manipulation and treatment of Alina as some sort of tool is done by the woman who opposes the Darkling, it’s suddenly okay. As if it still isn’t the same terrible shit but with a different perpetrator. I mean damn, at least Aleksander feels something for Alina. Baghra’s just cold.

So, point by point. Baghra mentions how Mal doesn’t care for Alina, she mentions Alina’s failings constantly, she mentions Alina being an orphan, she constantly hits her, she guilts Alina about orphans dying, she works to instill a sense of isolation from her friends and her family.

And when Alina finally comes to Baghra, having decided to abandon her attachments to her past and her attachments to Mal, the words that ring in her head are Baghra's words - “needing anyone else is weak.” Which is honestly just a horrible sentiment in general, but an even worse one when considering how hard these people are working to detach Alina from anybody who can help her or give her an outside perspective.

Strangely, it’s also similar to this line:

The problem with wanting, is that it makes us weak.

...which is spoken by Baghra’s son. You know, the Darkling? Our big bad villain? The one Baghra raised?

Which gives me the impression that Baghra’s teaching methods with her students are really not that far off from the teaching methods she used on him as he was growing up. It’s a horrifying thought, and leads into my problems with her relationship with Aleksander.

First of all, show wise. What the fuck.

Aleksander: They’re punishing us for being Grisha. Baghra: Punishing you. You made him afraid. Now he wants you to fear him. Aleksander: I won a war for him. Baghra: And in doing so, started a war on us.

I get that she’s trying to convey how the king feels here, but it still feels incredibly victim blamey from a narrative standpoint. It isn’t Aleksander’s fault the king fears him when he used his powers under the King’s banner to help him win a war. Aleksander trusted this man who betrayed him and then betrayed his people, and we get a line from his mother, entirely unsympathetic, talking about how it’s his fault all of these people are dying.

Baghra: Where’s the girl, your healer? Aleksander: Dead. She died because of me. Baghra: She died because they always do. They’re not as strong as you and me.

Baghra’s use of the term ‘girl’ and ‘healer' here instead of Luda is pretty telling. She either doesn’t like Luda or doesn’t care for her. Either way, this is the woman her son loves, and Baghra talks about her so dispassionately. Then he comments on Luda’s death and there’s no reaction except to say that they always do.

Like, her son is literally broken up over here. Grieving. Desperate. Run ragged. Caged and hunted. Feeling guilty as hell. Mind running through a million different ways he could possibly save all of these people. And Baghra offers him nothing except a paltry “people die, get over it, we’re better than that, she didn’t matter anyway.”

Honestly, how is Aleksander even still functioning at this point? He has no support system and he’s working against a king and his army to protect a group of civilians he could easily abandon to save himself. The sheer amount of responsibility and mental strain keeping track of a group alone entails is already monstrous, but adding in every other factor? The recent death of Luda, the fact that they’re cornered and they’ve been hunted down while fleeing across the land, the fact that he was just a couple hours ago forced to his knees and entirely at these men’s mercy, begging for Luda’s life. And here his mother is, if anything a negative support system. Offering no other ideas, telling him to give up hope, not even offering the barest smidgeon of emotional support as he grieves, putting everything on his shoulders.

It pisses me the fuck off.

Aleksander: You’re the one who taught me how to kill, mother. Their blood is on your hands as much as mine. Baghra: I taught you so you could protect yourself. Not them.

Once more, Baghra highlights how he needs to protect himself. How he should abandon the people he’s protecting. How he shouldn't help others and only ever himself. Once more, she says it’s my way or the high way. There’s zero effort to work with him. Zero effort to sympathize or compromise. She’s constantly pushing him to take the one option she knows he won’t take. The hell did she think was going to happen?

Also, Baghra taught him how to kill. Not necessarily great parenting, but understandable given the circumstances of his upbringing. But the level to which she takes it is honestly concerning. Like, look no further than this woman to see where Aleksander got it from lol.

Baghra also forbids him from using Merzost. Which is great and all, she gets to claim the moral high ground. But she doesn’t offer a single alternative except to flee and let everybody die. There was legitimately no other option to Merzost except for torture and death. If there was, Baghra sure as hell didn’t help Aleksander come up with one. Aleksander, who - by the way - is in no fit emotional state to be making any kind of decision right now.

So anyways, that’s just my tv show grief regarding Baghra, and it’s not even really all of it. I don’t want to make this an hour long read though lmao. But I’ll go over a few other things.

First of all, Baghra’s whole “We’re the only two that matter. We have to do whatever we can to protect ourselves,” mentality is one that she actively touts to Aleksander on a regular basis when he’s incredibly young. It’s honestly a wonder he grows up to care about other people at all. But the mentality itself is something Aleksander still heavily internalized in regards to protecting himself and those he deems worthy at any cost.

There’s a moment in the books when Aleksander is attacked and nearly drowned by some kids who wanted his bones (one of which was a close friend of his). He uses the cut in self defense and then blames the nearby Otkazat’sya village. Baghra knows he’s lying, and yet she allows an entire village to get slaughtered for harming him. This is a disproportionately violent act that Baghra approves of, and Aleksander as a kid is definitely internalizing that mindset.

Also, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander has always been weirdly possessive and controlling. Especially when it comes to the people he loves. Her actions often come across as her trying to isolate him in order to keep him by her side, even when the relationships he has are clearly intimate. Which... is especially strange for a mother to be doing to her son.

She was also an extremely emotionally neglectful mother. Based on the show and what I gathered from her actions there, I’m actually half convinced she was physically abusive as well, in that “I think I’m being a stern, good parent figure when in reality I’m actually harming my child” kind of way. She fosters codependence with her son and then refuses to provide for any of his emotional needs. She drives it into his head that everybody dies, that he’ll always be alone, that love is useless and power is everything. She denies him the opportunity to be soft and works to harden him at a young age. She tells him he must never allow people to touch him, except she doesn’t work to supplement those physical needs in any way. She essentially abuses him.

Honestly, I could go on. But in reality the simple fact is that I just don’t like her. I think she’s a hypocrite. I think she’s abusive. I think she’s a terrible mentor and an even worse mother. And I think the fandom and the books are willing to brush aside so many of her faults simply because she opposes the Darkling.

I’m sorry if this isn’t what you guys were looking for! It sounds like a lot of you wanted a more of a sophisticated breakdown, but my thoughts on Baghra come with a heap of emotional baggage lol. It feels weird to say this now, but I actually do like the character as a character, I just,,, don’t like her in every other aspect. My feelings on Baghra are just a bit personal, to be honest. But hopefully this was at least comprehensible??

#shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #anti baghra #baghra critical #sab spoilers #demon in the wood spoilers #aleksander morozova #sab meta #the darkling #fandomcourse #myramblings #leigh bardugo critical #mymetas #anti darklina bs #please dont hate me for this #aaahhhh now im worried #Yikes

337 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

NMJ is used to taking care of everyone else. He's not used to being taken care of. After getting injured or sick or a qi divination or something, his loved ones all come together to take care of him. He learns more people care deeply about him than he realized.

And if you can include a scene with someone bathing him or washing his hair, I would be ecstatic.

ao3

“- and no excuses!” Nie Huaisang’s voice was a little shrill, but under the circumstances, Nie Mingjue didn’t entirely feel like he could object.

After all, all the yelling, shrill or otherwise, was a sign that Nie Huaisang was sincerely worried about him, something Nie Mingjue usually did his best not to doubt. His little brother was self-absorbed and carefree, just the way he’d vowed he’d let him be years before when Nie Huaisang had been little more than a child. So even if Nie Huaisang’s behavior annoyed him or worried him, which it often did, even if it seized up his heart to think about what might happen when he was gone, when there would be no one to take care of his brother for him, it still pleased him beyond measure to see his brother grow up happy.

So what if it meant taking on some extra burdens, meant doing that little bit more to conceal his hardships and portray himself as the unshakable older brother Nie Huaisang saw him as? So what if his brother’s complaints sometimes acted as thorns hooked deep in his heart, itching under his skin, making him wonder does he really think of me that way and have I gone too far this time, maybe he hates me now and all that?

Nie Huaisang was yelling at him again, voice painfully shrill and piercing, but for Nie Mingjue, to hear his brother worried for him and not from him made for a nice change.

Anyway, he himself had probably been just as shrill, when it had been his father that –

It wasn’t that bad, he reminded himself. Baxia was as strong a presence in his mind as ever, their bond uninterrupted. It only looked bad from the outside.

It looked – pretty bad from the outside.

Nie Mingjue tried to smile at Nie Huaisang, but for some reason that just seemed to make things worse: Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled up with tears at once and the scowl on his face deepened. “I’m serious, da-ge! Really serious. I’ll take care of everything, you won’t need to worry about anything at all – for real, this time – and in return, you’re staying put until the doctors say you’re better.”

Nie Mingjue nodded obediently.

Nie Huaisang burst into tears and fled the room before Nie Mingjue could even offer him a hug.

Watching his little brother run, Nie Mingjue sighed and turned his gaze towards his (usually) reliable head disciple standing guard in the corner of the room, trying to ask with his gaze what in the world he was doing wrong, but Nie Zonghui’s eyes were red like a bad attack of spring fever and he wouldn’t even look at him.

It was not, in Nie Mingjue’s view, a very effective way to guard him. Not that he needed guarding – maybe if he’d had no choice but to return injured to Jinlin Tower, that pit of vipers and nest of foxes, but despite the gravity of his wounds they’d still managed to make it as far as this little outpost in disputed territory. Even if it was a stretch, they could put soldiers here and call it justified as being land under the command of Qinghe Nie…though possibly Jin Guangshan would try to find some way to use them doing that to his advantage.

And Nie Mingjue wasn’t exactly up for another war at the moment.

He wasn’t up for anything.

“Stop thinking of politics,” Nie Zonghui said, and his voice was hoarse as if he’d been swallowing sobs. Nie Mingjue wondered how he’d guessed. “I always can tell because your nose wrinkles whenever you think too hard about it…ah, A-Jue, you scared us.”

Scared his half-generation uncle enough to revert back to using childhood nicknames, apparently.

Nie Mingjue wished he could say something to comfort him.

Well, if he were wishing for things, forget wishing that he hadn’t been struck temporarily mute, he might as well go the full way and wish that the terrible creature he’d been fighting – a demon of especially vicious character, and so unexpectedly near to Lanling, too! – hadn’t taken advantage of the weakness he still suffered from, after the Nightless City, to attack his saber rather than himself.

Might as well wish, too, that he’d never been captured in Yangquan in the first place. That he’d never been beaten or tortured, that he’d never had a hundred Wen feet kicking at his saber in some pale shadow their sect leader, attempting to break him as their sect leader had broken his father.

How he had felt when the demon’s blow had fallen straight onto his blade and she had cracked –

Baxia was fine. He could feel her.

(He remembered his father shouting for someone to bring him his saber, long gone, and wondered –)

Baxia was fine.

He’d examined her a thousand times and couldn’t see any true damage – the physical damage was artificially induced, located at the far end; for a regular saber, it wouldn’t be anything to think twice about, a bit of hammering in the forge and it would be as if it had never happened, with no lingering weakness. It was only if her spirit had been harmed, or the bond between them, that his own spirit would be injured, his mind affected, and that hadn’t happened. He’d checked, was checking, time and time again. She was fine.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell anybody that.

When the blade had cracked, he’d reacted on instinct in a fit of panic, sending all of his qi immediately to his bond with Baxia, desperately and frantically trying to ensure that his soul wasn’t torn out of his hands the way his father’s had been, that gruesome descent into madness and frothing aimless rage. The demon had sensed his distraction and gone for his throat with its claws, and then the rest of the Nie sect that had come on the night-hunt with him had descended upon it like howling wolves, throwing everything they’d brought with them at it.

Not a good night-hunting strategy (what if the demon hadn’t been alone? what if it was huddled together with other creatures of resentful energy the way they usually were, and using up their arsenal on it left them vulnerable? what if they encountered something on the way back?), but admittedly very effective.

The demon had been utterly vanquished – and really, all the admonishments not to think of politics aside, it was very unusual for such a thing to be lurking around in the environs of another Great Sect like that, especially when that sect had invited its guests to casually night-hunt to entertain themselves – and now they were here.

Or rather, he was here, lying in bed with needles stuck in him like a porcupine, drinking bowl after bowl of medicine as his brother frantically hovered over him. And Nie Mingjue was yielding to it all without complaint even when it was really annoying (he’d never been a very good patient) because he understood, having once been there in Nie Huaisang’s place when his father had been in his, except all his complaisance seemed to be only making Nie Huaisang even more upset.

Baxia grumbled in his mind, having apparently realized that they weren’t going night-hunting again until she was fully repaired and all the worry-warts around him satisfied, and he comforted her with his own misery at the idea: stuck in bed, not allowed to train, not allowed to hunt –

He’d tried to mime the idea of doing some correspondence, since much of it was in fact urgent and he couldn’t even imagine how much of the endless work of being sect leader would pile up in the event of an elongated absence, and Nie Huaisang had thrown a fit, and also several teacups.

Apparently he wasn’t even allowed to do that.

Nie Mingjue sighed and sank back into the bed, briefly putting on an exaggerated pout that made Nie Zonghui laugh a little, the sound wet in his throat. But then, once he’d turned away and followed Nie Huaisang out the door, Nie Mingjue’s pout faded into a resigned sigh.

A little while later, he heard familiar voices at the door.

“ – came as soon as I could, of course,” Jin Guangyao was saying, sounding a little – amused? Long-suffering? What a strange emotion for him to openly display, given the circumstances. Even if he was enjoying someone’s misfortune, and Nie Mingjue knew that his sworn brother often did, he would normally be more tactful about expressing it. “Your missive wasn’t very clear about what the issue was, Huaisang.”

Well, that would explain it. If it was Nie Huaisang, being called to assist with a disaster might mean anything from the dramatic breaking of a fan to the even more dramatic prospect of being forced to actually do some work for once in his life. It very rarely referred to actual disaster.

There was the muffled sound of sobbing – it turned Nie Mingjue’s stomach to hear Nie Huaisang like that, but the last day or so had shown him that there was nothing he could do about it – and then some quiet discussion, too low to hear without trying, and Nie Mingjue had gotten some very stern lectures on how much he was not to try anything for a while.

The murmuring continued for a little, and then – “What?!”

A moment later, Jin Guangyao rushed into Nie Mingjue’s room, usual smile still frozen on his face and his eyes a little wider than usual. It was a refreshingly subdued reaction, Nie Mingjue thought: none of the wide-eyed teary eyes or drooped shoulders that usually accompanied Jin Guangyao’s demonstrations of upset feelings, the pity-me scenes that felt so staged now that Nie Mingjue knew what an able actor Jin Guangyao was.

This time, though, he seemed almost sincere.

Jin Guangyao stopped a few steps into the room, staring at where Nie Mingjue was lying, expression still frozen for a moment, and then the ice melted and the artifice returned, a look of sorrow and sympathy – look at how bad you’ve made me feel by being hurt like that – that made Nie Mingjue want to sigh. He’d been happier, their relationship better, before he’d gotten to peek under the mask Jin Guangyao wore, but it hadn’t been the truth, and he always preferred a hard truth over a soft lie.

“Oh, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao murmured. “Da-ge, poor da-ge…how are you feeling?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing, of course, and Jin Guangyao frowned.

“He can’t talk,” Nie Huaisang said, having followed him into the room. “His throat was nearly ripped out –”

For fuck’s sake, it was a scratch.

“– and he was almost entirely drained of his qi. I could barely feel his heartbeat when I arrived! And he hasn’t been acting like himself, either! I don’t know, I just – I don’t remember what it was like, la – last – last time –”

The tears were starting again, and Nie Mingjue tried to raise a hand to reach out to Nie Huaisang, wanting to comfort him, but something about the gesture made Nie Huaisang sob even harder and even Jin Guangyao looked a little taken aback, even a little stricken. Maybe it was the amount of effort it took for him to lift his hand, the way he had to stop and start the movement? The way his fingers trembled with the effort it took to keep it up in the air?

(His father hadn’t been like this at all. Maybe Nie Huaisang had been too young, Nie Zonghui too distant, but Nie Mingjue remembered it as if it were yesterday – there hadn’t been weakness, not like this. His father had been in a coma for three days and nights, and then he’d woken up. He’d seemed fine at first, not weak at all beyond the usual sluggishness that followed after a period of unconsciousness, and then he’d asked for his saber – and kept asking, no matter how many times they tried to explain –)

Baxia was fine.

The weakness was his own.

It wasn’t like that.

“How can I help?” Jin Guangyao asked. “Sect business –”

“I need someone to watch over him,” Nie Huaisang interrupted, wiping his eyes. “Someone who knows him well. He’s not…his reactions are all wrong. He goes into these dazes sometimes, doesn’t respond, and even when he seems present, he’s flinching at things that aren’t there or being nice and I just…I really can’t tell how much he’s really here or how much of it is reacting on, I don’t know, some sort of childhood instinct. So it has to be someone familiar with his habits, his likes and dislikes.”

Jin Guangyao was blinking rapidly. “And – me? You want me to...I was his deputy, yes, but – surely you or someone else in the Nie sect would be more appropriate?”

“Sect Leader Nie has always respected the differences between rank,” Nie Zonghui volunteered, voice low. “It would hurt his pride to be seen in such an undignified state by someone who wasn’t family.”

The blinking stopped, Jin Guangyao’s rapid thinking abruptly (and visibly) hitting a wall. “I’m – I’m not family.”

“You’re his sworn brother, aren’t you? That’s almost the same as being brothers, which makes you family,” Nie Huaisang said practically. “I’ve written to er-ge, too –”

He’d what?!

“Anyway, I know how good you are at managing things, but it wouldn’t really be appropriate for you to be involved in Nie sect business, would it? It might put you in an awkward situation, having to negotiate against your father.” Nie Huaisang gave Jin Guangyao another hug. “You just focus on taking care of da-ge, all right? I don’t want – if anyone found out, they could –”

He was going to start crying again, Nie Mingjue thought miserably, and wondered if people could die of dehydration by means of tears.

“Nothing will happen to your brother while he’s in my hands,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue even believed him. If there was one thing Jin Guangyao hated, it was being blamed for anything – even if he wanted Nie Mingjue dead, which Nie Mingjue was sure he did sometimes, he would never let it happen while he was the responsible party. Which was why it was something of a surprise that he was allowing himself to be made responsible. “It’ll be all right, Huaisang. You have to believe that.”

Nie Huaisang sniffed and finally wiped away his tears. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough,” he said ominously, and stalked out with Nie Zonghui a few steps behind, shooting Jin Guangyao an apologetic look as they left.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t tell if he agreed or disagreed with Nie Huaisang’s words.

“I hope da-ge doesn’t mind my forwardness in agreeing to help him,” Jin Guangyao said, coming closer to the bed to look down at him, his expression simpering and fake as it always was these days.

As much as that falsity annoyed him, how could Nie Mingjue mind? He knew, as Jin Guangyao did not, what his brother was afraid of; anything that could ease his brother’s mind, if only for a moment, was good.

(Why would Jin Guangyao agree to be the one responsible for him? A demon of such strength shouldn’t have been anywhere near Lanling. And this little outpost was nothing, unguarded, vulnerable; they didn’t have any defenses if Jin Guangshan decided to do something against them here, and yet Jin Guangyao willingly agreed –)

He couldn’t tell Jin Guangyao that he appreciated what he was doing and knew how hard it was, how much of a burden it was, so he reached out and caught his sleeve, tugging it lightly, and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t any more successful than when he’d tried it on Nie Huaisang – less tears, but it made Jin Guangyao frown in a way that looked actually sincere, as if Nie Mingjue had done something incorrect – so he tugged on his sleeve again, like a child, until Jin Guangyao instinctively lifted his hand to stop him. Nie Mingjue exerted himself, caught it, and drew the words for an apology on his sworn brother’s palm.

My fault, he thought at Jin Guangyao, hoping that he’d understand. I’ve troubled you.

My fault.

It was his weakness. His family’s, his father’s, his own – why should others pay for it, the way he’d paid for his father’s? All he’d ever wanted was to keep them from having to go through that type of suffering.

Jin Guangyao’s hand was trembling, he suddenly noticed, and opened eyes that had slid shut with temporary exhaustion to look at Jin Guangyao again.

His sworn brother’s face had gone ashen, his lips pressed together tightly as if something was upsetting him.

“Da-ge?” he said, strangely hesitant, but Nie Mingjue didn’t understand what he was trying to ask him and was too tired to really try. He squeezed Jin Guangyao’s hand again and released him, letting his hand fall down to the bed.

He checked once again on Baxia.

She was fine. She was right there, their bond as strong as ever.

(“Where is my saber?” his father asked, rubbing his face. “Pass Jiwei to me, A-Jue, will you?”)

He shivered.

Opened his eyes.

The room had been reorganized, he noticed, and the light was different, although not too much – had he fallen asleep? He must have.

Well, he was still healing. It was normal.

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao was still there, too. “Can you hear me now?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao said, and seemed to even mean it. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

My saber, Nie Mingjue thought, and started shivering again, the room suddenly gone terribly cold even though he was under two layers of blankets already.

Baxia was fine. She was only out of his sight because they were fixing her – it was a small thing, nothing to a normal saber, easily repaired. It was only taking so long because they would have to find a good forge and bring over a smith familiar with spiritual weapons.

Baxia was fine.

He wouldn’t ask for her. He wouldn’t.

“– leader Nie! Look at me – can you hear me? Sect Leader Nie, Meng Yao has a question for you –”

Nie Mingjue turned his head with some difficulty and blinked at Jin Guangyao, who looked relieved. He’d used his old name for some reason, maybe to get Nie Mingjue’s attention, and even that much was a bit of a surprise. Jin Guangyao hated his old name, would prefer to pretend it had never existed, and this was the first time Nie Mingjue had heard it from his lips since the ceremony in which he’d received the new one.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao murmured, seeing him. “Good – yes, da-ge. You’re back. Good. Look at me.”

Nie Mingjue tried to mouth the word ‘question’ at him, but it felt like it was impossible to communicate properly. The lack of language frustrated him immensely, even if the usual anger that was always so quick to leap to his side at the first instance of such frustration didn’t come, too buried beneath the fear.

Luckily, Jin Guangyao was quick and smart and after a few moments seemed to understand. “Oh, ah, the question? Yes. That. Ah...I wanted to know if there was something you wanted.”

My saber.

Nie Mingjue shivered.

Baxia was fine.

“I rearranged the room to your preferences –” He had, too. Even the light fell differently. “– but I’m not sure what else I can get for you that you might need or enjoy.”

Nie Mingjue considered trying to ask for correspondence again, something to do that would be useful, but quickly realized the futility of that. Still, he didn’t really do anything else, other than work; he’d long ago given up all his old hobbies in favor of his duties, being sect leader and training himself for war and eventually war itself, and even he didn’t remember what they were anymore.

“As da-ge knows, he has always been a mystery to me,” Jin Guangyao added, a little bit of self-depreciating humor in his words. That old joke between them (had it been a joke?), about how Meng Yao would constantly be trying to figure out what Nie Mingjue liked so that he could serve him better and Nie Mingjue constantly being disinterested in every vice he tried to present him with…after everything, Nie Mingjue had started to wonder if it hadn’t been a joke at all, if Meng Yao had been truly frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t find any chink in his armor, a weakness he could exploit to hold over his head.

He was so weak now, though, and yet Jin Guangyao made the same joke.

Was there anything, really, for him to do? Jin Guangyao must be terribly bored, forced to be a babysitter for a man who couldn’t even speak to convey his wishes, and wouldn’t –

Actually, now what he thought about it, there was something.

Nie Mingjue lifted his fingers and twisted them into the hand sign they’d used during the Sunshot Campaign to mean ‘break camp’.

Jin Guangyao stared at him blankly.

He made the sign again, hoping to convey meaning. There wasn’t anything in the room he could point to, and he’d never been especially talented at pantomime, yet surely Jin Guangyao with his quick mind would be able to puzzle it out – every time he made that sign, they would stop moving, set up the tents, and the first thing he’d want, every time it was possible, was –

“A bath?” Jin Guangyao asked, and Nie Mingjue nodded in relief. “I’ll order one set up right away. Anything else?”

Nie Mingjue pointed to the pile of his clothing that was now neatly folded up on a nearby table – and much reduced, by the look of it. Not a surprise. The always-efficient Jin Guangyao would have sent the worst pieces, the ones that had been cut off his body by the doctors, away to be retailored.

Jin Guangyao frowned at it. “You want to get dressed? No…to get ready to receive visitors?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Why? Who are you expecting?”

After some contemplation, Nie Mingjue held up two fingers.

Jin Guangyao blinked.

Sighing, Nie Mingjue pointed at himself – one finger – and at Jin Guangyao – three fingers – and then held up two again.

“…you want to get bathed and dressed before er-ge arrives?”

It was so good to have someone by his side that understood him. Losing his trust in Meng Yao’s character had always been the worst part of that entire experience, the realization that the person he’d thought was a friend had never existed but had instead been deliberately manufactured to match his tastes, but losing the help of such a competent deputy hadn’t been great, either.

“Da-ge, are you sure?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. He couldn’t let Lan Xichen see him like this – the Nie and Lan sects had always been closer allies than they’d been with the others, and they’d been friends since childhood. While not physically present, Lan Xichen had seen some glimpses of what Nie Mingjue had gone through when his father had been dying, and again right after he’d died.

He’d been the one to whom Nie Huaisang had revealed that one letter that Nie Mingjue had thought he’d burned, the one that he hadn’t actually intended on ever using, the one that laid out what he’d say if he were to say goodbye – it had only been theoretical, a way to get out frustration. He would never have been so selfish as to let the awful burden that had fallen on his shoulders fall in turn on Nie Huaisang.

But Lan Xichen hadn’t really believed him back then, when he’d explained that he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t have any plans to do anything that would make such a goodbye necessary. He’d worried himself sick over him back then.

He’d worry now.

Nie Mingjue knew Lan Xichen loved him, he did, even if sometimes recently he felt that Lan Xichen might take him a little for granted. Lan Xichen loved him, so Lan Xichen would worry about him, but Lan Xichen also expressed his worries through trying to fix things.

He didn’t want to have to deal with that right now. There was nothing that needed to be fixed – Baxia was fine, he was fine, it was just a matter of healing for him and a bit of reforging for her.

It was fine.

“Da-ge, the bath is ready.”

Nie Mingjue pulled himself back out of trying to check on his bond with Baxia again to find that it was, steaming and hot; the servants must have moved it in while he wasn’t paying attention and then departed again. He tried to pull himself up to sit, but Jin Guangyao pressed down on his shoulder with surprising strength.

“Let me help you, da-ge,” he said, and Nie Mingjue graciously didn’t call him out on how much he was clearly enjoying himself. It was nice to think that part of that enjoyment was in helping him, as opposed to merely being in a position of power, but it was so hard to tell with Jin Guangyao – he wasn’t even sure the man himself knew which it was.

Shakily, with Jin Guangyao’s assistance, he sat up, and put his feet on the ground, only to have to wait while Jin Guangyao fussed around removing the acupuncture needles that had been left behind, murmuring something about having gotten the doctors’ approval. After that was done, Jin Guangyao helped him painstakingly totter over to the bathtub – his sworn brother might have only mediocre cultivation, but he was still stronger than Nie Mingjue was now, with his qi depleted and his battered body little more than dead weight. Nie Mingjue was as dependent on him as a small child on their parent. Once there, he helped brace him against the wall, helped remove his inner robes, and finally, blissfully, helped him slide into the bathtub.

“Da-ge has so many scars,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue looked at him.

Jin Guangyao was studying him with a strange expression on his face. He hadn’t allowed him to assist him with bathing before, Nie Mingjue recalled; he had been trying to maintain a divide between personal servants and military hierarchy, and Jin Guangyao – Meng Yao, then – had been a guest disciple, not a servant. Even when there were no personal servants to be had and Jin Guangyao had offered, Nie Mingjue had refused, not wanting his deputy to feel as though he were being looked down upon.

Still, it wasn’t as though the man hadn’t seen his bare chest before – there had been times on campaign when a bath hadn’t been possible, only a quick dip in the river to wash off the blood, and Jin Guangyao had even helped stitch him up a few times when an enemy’s blade had struck true and the doctors were busy elsewhere – so Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what was drawing his interest this time.

Normally, he would have asked.

Normally, he would have gotten angry at the presumption, less because of the violation of social norms than because he was embarrassed, and when he was embarrassed he got angry. That was his temperament, the way he’d been raised, always defaulting to anger instead of other, less comfortable emotions, and he’d tried very hard to avoid passing along those habits to Nie Huaisang. He hoped one day to see Nie Huaisang teaching children of his own with new habits, different habits – for his little brother to scold him for being a bad example to the younger generation, for him to have a reason to try harder to be better.

He couldn’t ask now, and there was no point in being angry. Or embarrassed, for that matter.

Jin Guangyao’s hand came to his shoulder, and then slid down to his chest, the pressure of his fingers light and barely present. There was nothing sexual or threatening in the gesture, simply curiosity.

“So many new scars,” Jin Guangyao murmured, and Nie Mingjue looked down at his chest: raised red lines all over, old injuries scabbed over and scarred and healing. His cultivation was at such a high level that even scars eventually faded away, but many of these were too new. The marks of a knife, a sword, a whip, the remnants of blunt weapons that hit so many times that they pierced skin, even the indentation of human nails driven in deep…

The worst of it was his left side, right above his ribs, where the knife marks were precise and orderly, triangles of flesh cut like fletching; he had made a habit of not looking at himself there, yet that was where Jin Guangyao’s fingers went.

“How did this happen, da-ge?” he asked, staring, his gaze unnervingly intent. “Who tried to skin you alive?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the question. He pointed at Jin Guangyao.

“What?” Jin Guangyao asked, not understanding. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. He pointed again, this time at his side at the place he preferred not to think about, and then once again at Jin Guangyao himself.

Jin Guangyao stared back at him, blank for a moment until he understood, and then he visibly flinched. “Me?” he said, his voice rising an octave. “No, I didn’t –”

It hadn’t been him directly, no, but the person who had done it had been his student – had boasted about being trained by Wen Ruohan’s chief torturer, the inventor of all those terrible machines that they’d heard rumors of, some of which they’d brought out to show him through intimate demonstration – the sick feeling in Nie Mingjue’s stomach when he’d found Meng Yao standing above him, smiling, and realized that the person that had been spoken of was him…

It might as well have been him that did it.

“I hadn’t realized,” Jin Guangyao said. His fingers had fallen to the edge of the tub, holding on until his knuckles were white. Anger, Nie Mingjue thought with the experience of a connoisseur, but he didn’t understand why it would make Jin Guangyao angry. “They shouldn’t have touched you. They weren’t allowed –”

Nie Mingjue didn’t especially want to hear any more of Jin Guangyao’s excuses – there were always excuses, he’d found, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t forgiven him for it already, or did Jin Guangyao think that he’d sworn brotherhood for nothing? – so he closed his eyes and let himself sink down into the water until it was over his head.

It was peaceful under the water, disconnected from the rest of the world. He didn’t have to think about Jin Guangyao ordering his torture and then covering it up, or maybe even ordering them not to do it but not keeping close enough watch to prevent it; he didn’t have to think about all the people that Jin Guangyao couldn’t use, the ones that didn’t get the benefit of such an order.

He didn’t have to think about all those feet kicking his Baxia like she was a dog they wanted to put down, or Meng Yao holding her in his hands and asking him how many slaps he thought it would take until she shattered the way Jiwei had shattered, or the invitation to go night-hunting at Lanling that led him straight to a demon that knew exactly where to strike –

Baxia was fine, he reminded himself. Fine.

Hands abruptly appeared in front of his eyes, bursting into the underwater scene in a frenzy of bubbles, catching him around the shoulders and pulling him up into the air to see Jin Guangyao’s white face and hear him shouting, “Are you mad, staying under for so long?! You’re not a fish; you can’t breathe water!”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him.

“You’re no Jiang sect child of the river,” Jin Guangyao scolded. “What’s wrong with you? Do you not want to live anymore?”

(“Stop stalling and get me my saber!” his father roared, his hand lashing out too quick for Nie Mingjue to avoid, the full-force blow sending him staggering and breaking something inside of him in more ways than just the physical. “Do you not want to live anymore?”)

Nie Mingjue missed the water already.

Jin Guangyao’s fingers tightened on his shoulders. “You’re not allowed to go, da-ge,” he said. “Not when I just realized that I want to keep you around.”

Nie Mingjue shook his head, realizing that Jin Guangyao had misunderstood his silence. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, he wouldn’t do that to Nie Huaisang, but that sometimes he didn’t know if he would be able to stay.

Baxia was fine – wasn’t she?

“Just don’t move, all right?” Jin Guangyao huffed, and settled down behind him. He found some soap and began scrubbing at Nie Mingjue’s skin as if he were a piece of laundry, although he didn’t use enough pressure for it to actually hurt. The repetitive movements were soothing, lulling him to relax – especially when Jin Guangyao, grumbling something about stress, jabbed him repeatedly in certain acupoints to force his muscles to release stored-up tension – and after a little while Jin Guangyao stopped being so rough.

“Huaisang was right,” he said after a while, having shifted over to running his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair as if he were a child, carefully detangling each knot he encountered. “You really are acting far too nice. Shouldn’t you be scolding me for overstepping?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head lightly, careful not to jostle Jin Guangyao’s hand.

“No? Then something else, surely. Where’s your anger, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue looked down at his hands, his saber hand instinctively curling up to grasp a hilt that was no longer there. It looked wrong to see them like this, empty.

(“Where is my saber?” his father cried out. “My saber – my saber!”)

He wasn’t his father.

That he would die of a qi deviation, die young, years before his time – this he had accepted. But he would not die the way his father died, angry, lashing out at all the ones he loved most, not if he could do anything about it.

Maybe in the future, when he lost himself fully, he would become a resentful ghost in human flesh, a raging monster fit only for slaughtering – if his thoughts themselves had already begun to lie to him, to drip poison into his ears and into his heart, if despite everything Baxia was actually gone and he was already dead and he just hadn’t realized it yet –

For as long as he could manage, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t let himself be angry.

Did he still doubt Jin Guangyao? Yes, of course. But what good would it do to suspect him now? If he tried to accuse him, even he wouldn’t believe his own testimony.

(“- they say your father died of rage –”)

“Come on, then,” Jin Guangyao said, coaxing him like a child, and his hands as he helped him out of the bath were almost gentle. “I’ve got you some new robes. I’ll help you into them.”

Nie Mingjue caught his hand.

“Da-ge? Do you want something?”

My saber. Where is my saber?

He shook his head and let Jin Guangyao help him back to the bed. He sat heavily there and stared at his hands as Jin Guangyao wrapped him in a new set of robes – his own, he thought, but he couldn’t tell if it was the extra set he’d brought with him to Lanling or if it’d been brought from the Unclean Realm.

Was there enough time for someone to come from the Unclean Realm? They had smiths there, and forges –

Where is my saber?

He stared at himself in the mirror, Jin Guangyao lingering behind him, and closed his eyes.

Like all cultivators, especially good cultivators, Nie Mingjue had a very good understanding of his spiritual energy, the way his qi moved through his meridians and settled in his dantian. He felt it every time he cultivated. His spiritual energy was drained dry right now, but if he really pushed and strained himself, he could squeeze up a small droplet of qi and guide it through the whole cultivation sequence. He could watch it carefully, wait for it to hit the place where he connected with Baxia – where he could feel her, echoing back at him. Intact.

She was fine.

She was.

She had to be.

Nie Mingjue felt someone start to braid his hair and frowned a little: perfect memory or not, he didn’t think Jin Guangyao knew the right braids. There were very subtle nuances to the ones he wore, significant ones; copying another version of his own hairstyle might be making a grievous error. He’d been wearing war-braids almost the entire time they’d known each other, after all…

He opened his eyes.

It wasn’t Jin Guangyao behind him.

“Welcome back, da-ge,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were red around the edges, as if he’d been crying, or trying very hard to keep from doing so. “How are you feeling?”

Empty, lost, afraid – oh, Xichen, I’m so very afraid –

“Huaisang said to tell you that if you don’t stop doing whatever it is that’s keeping your qi drained, he’ll lock your spiritual energy away,” Lan Xichen said after a few moments, when it became clear that Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to respond. “And I have to say, I agree with him.”

Nie Mingjue lowered his head, feeling guilty. He shouldn’t be causing them any more worry than they already had – Nie Huaisang’s eyes were never empty of tears, and it was all his fault.

“You need your spiritual energy to recover if you want to heal,” Lan Xichen said. His hands did not falter as he made the braids – the right ones, too, a sect leader at peace who was in temporary retreat due to ill health. “And you will heal, da-ge. We’ll do everything that we can to help you.”

Nie Mingjue’s shoulders slumped. That was a familiar refrain by now, and his eyes drifted down in the mirror in front of him to look at Liebing, tucked away in Lan Xichen’s belt as always – Lan Xichen would want him to meditate while he played, no doubt. As far as Nie Mingjue knew, there was no guqin here for him to play Clarity, but there were other songs available.

“I’ve asked Wangji if he would play something calming for you, if you think it would help, but I won’t force you,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue raised his eyes to meet his in the mirror, surprised. His old friend tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “I’m not entirely up to doing it myself, I’m afraid. Liebing requires perfect control of breath, and I’m…”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them once more.

“Do you know how much I’d miss you, da-ge?” he asked, voice low. “How much emptier my life would be without knowing that you were there? And not just me – all of us.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t know what to say.

“There’s Huaisang, of course, but you know that. Your sect, your family…even A-Yao has been unusually upset about the idea of something more happening to you, he was engaging Nie Zonghui in a conversation about the defenses in place here in the event someone tried something last I saw. Wangji dropped everything to come rushing here when I wrote to him, and – you’ll never believe this – Wei Wuxian himself followed him here, asking about your health.”

Wei Wuxian? Here, so close to Lanling? That was a terrible idea.

“He’s being careful,” Lan Xichen assured him. “He went with Wangji and Jiang Wanyin to examine the site of the night-hunt – they’re saying it’s suspicious that a demon of that power managed to end up this close to Lanling, especially undetected, with you going in without any warning and the demon targeting you in such a specific way.”

It was suspicious. Also, Jiang Wanyin was here?

“I don’t know how he found out, he just showed up here,” Lan Xichen said. “I think Nie Huaisang might have written to him? Either way, he wanted to help.”

Nie Mingjue’s brow wrinkled.

“If you’re wondering why, it’s because he respects and admires you,” Lan Xichen said. “You helped him so much during the war; he wants to repay you…everyone does. You’ve done so much for all of us.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. He really hadn’t – he’d only done what he’d need to, nothing more.

“You mean so much to all of us,” Lan Xichen murmured, finishing the braids and putting his hands on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Oh, da-ge. Please hold on for us.”

(He thought of how his father looked at the end, gurgling on his own blood, red seeping out of his eyes and ears and nose as well and looking almost relieved to be going – relieved that his endless nightmare would finally come to an end, that he could rest at last in his grave…)

Nie Mingjue nodded and ducked his head to hide the tears brimming in his own eyes.

He’d stop checking, he promised silently. Baxia was fine, he thought, or maybe she wasn’t, but he hadn’t yet lost his mind, hadn’t yet started lashing out, and all those he loved were here by his side, ready to support him and help him however they could, if they could.

He would need to have faith.

He was still afraid, terribly afraid, but – he would, he could, rely on others to help support him, when he couldn’t support himself.

They wouldn’t let his anger eat him alive, and so he couldn’t let his fear do the same.

Nie Mingjue raised his hand and covered one of Lan Xichen’s with it.

He licked his lips, swallowed.

Forcing himself to speak felt like trying to break the Lan silencing spell, but he had to do it.

“Xichen,” he croaked, voice barely audible. “…Baxia?”

Where is my saber?

Lan Xichen’s hands tightened on his shoulders.

“Repaired,” his friend promised him. “Reforged by the finest spiritual smith in Qinghe. Huaisang is on his way to bring her to you now.”

Nie Mingue smiled.

A shichen later, Nie Huaisang pressed Baxia’s hilt into his hand, expression worried, all of them worried, all of them staring at him to see what would happen as he held his saber and carefully pressed some little, tiny part of the spiritual energy he’d been saving up into her.

Baxia sang out her song, bright and clear and unblemished, full of righteousness and rage.

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and wept in relief.

She was fine.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #fine #ebonykain

353 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

Note

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

#BNHA #My Hero Academia #anti bakugo

117 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

A Sea of Fragment VI

Word Count: 3.964

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s Note: I’m back! This chapter was so enjoyable to write, I missed this series so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also yes I did see the 2.1 trailer. Scaramouche’s JP laugh my evil beloved.

After your little interlude of conversation with Scaramouche you had succumbed once more to the blinding heat that was enveloping you. Having little sense of the world around you, waking up to bits and pieces of movement only to be stolen away by the darkness again, you found yourself completely disoriented by the sight that greeted you when you finally woke up.

You were in a tent, that much was sure, though beyond that you weren’t really aware of much else. The bed that you were lying on, though slightly damp, was clean, and the top cover, which remained underneath you, was folded over neatly. There was a large table next to you, filled with what could only be medical equipment, as well as a dresser, a chair, and a bench, presumably there for medical purposes. However the high quality material of everything, the tent, the sheets, the pillow, made the whole room seem much too fancy to be a simple hospital tent.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, too afraid to move in case the world started swimming again, when what could only be a medic walked in. The Fatui emblem was embroidered neatly above his breast pocket, but otherwise he seemed completely, almost unnervingly, normal. The only other thing of note was the Anemo vision strapped to his arm.

“Ah I see you’re awake. Good, I didn’t want to have to call the head medic in again, since she made it perfectly clear already that your case didn’t need her specific supervision. Still, when my lord Scaramouche came in shouting, she couldn’t very well say that, ignoring how banged up you were at the time.”

“Scaramouche was here?” You asked, head still slightly fuzzy.

It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear that, after all you weren’t the one walking to the medical tent by yourself considering the state you were in. Still the image felt like an odd one. You figured he would’ve found someone else to do it for him. Letting this information rattle around in your mind you mutely listened as the medic asked you to hold out your arm for pulse checking, barely listening to his halfhearted small talk.

“Your pulse seems to be evening out a bit,” he finally said. “Good, you were going berserk for a little bit there. We even had to call in a healer, didn’t want you to die. Thankfully the healing seemed to help, my lord was saying something about your state being magic induced, and we were worried that there would be no effect.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you replied, knowing full well that this level of treatment was likely the result of being dragged in by a Harbinger. Still, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

“It’s nothing. Better have you alive then a dead body on our hands after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, you’ll have to take care. Your iron levels were also somewhat wonky, so we’re going to give you a week’s worth of pills for that. Come back in a week and if everything seems alright you’ll be good to go. Okay?”

“Alright.”

The medic nodded before walking out. Feeling still exhausted you flopped down on the bed. A breeze seemed to be blowing outside and a part of it came in through the slits in the tent. Letting the wind fan over you, you closed your eyes. Soon enough your thoughts swam into incoherence and you were dragged down into the realm of sleep.

“My lord.”

Scaramouche jerked his head up from the papers he’d been half heartedly studying. Seeing the medic in front of him he immediately stretched himself up a little taller. At least this wasn’t something completely worthless.

“I assume you’re here to tell me about the condition of the person I left with you.”

“Yes, they have just woken up. Their vitals are no longer in critical condition, and they appear to be alert.”

“Good. That will be all.”

“Yes my lord.”

Scaramouche waited until the medic had left before letting his thoughts roam. You were awake, you were finally awake. Though he wanted to deny it, the relief that flooded through him made it all too apparent how worried the Harbinger had been. When you’d first woken up in his tent he had felt worried, yes, perhaps even slightly frantic. Still, he had assumed that that would be the end of it. You collapsing again had made his blood run cold in a way that rarely, if ever happened. He was Scaramouche after all. The Balladeer, the Harbinger who had no room for mercy in his heart, no time to worry about the lives of other people. After all, does the winter blizzard care about whose house it destroys? Certainly not, it only has to fulfill its goal. Yet he had cared about what was happening with you, even more than that, he’d been worried, perhaps even terrified.

Acknowledging these things left a bitter taste in Scaramouche’s mouth, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to try and deny it. Somehow you had managed to become noteworthy to him, important enough to draw such a reaction out of him. Was this some despicable side effect of your ability? No, it was unlikely. There was no use in looking for excuses or denials. What the Harbinger had to do now was figure out what to do with his predicament. He ought to crush it, to treat you as he would any other low-level lackey, he ought not to have brought you over to his personal section of the medical tents, should have had someone else carry you to the general wing. Those sorts of regrets were too late now however. He had acted out of pure panic, hadn’t even thought of the strict hierarchy that ruled all the lives of those who lived under the Tsaritsa.

Not did your aberrant status help, you who weren’t from Snezhnaya, who had no sense of authority, who had no true place amidst the Harbingers. You were merely there, a shadow that Scaramouche had hoped to command who had instead appeared to have manipulated him in some way.

Yet he couldn’t get rid of you, not now. You were still needed in some capacity, needed to tell him of the layout of the village, the location of the artifact, you had said it was a mirror. Besides, Scaramouche still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Signora would want to inspect you, having brought you to Scaramouche’s attention in the first place. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Signora had a habit of going where she pleased, deriving satisfaction from the ability to draw irritation out of her fellow Harbingers. The mere idea of her sauntering in to inspect you brought a sour sort of taste to Scaramouche’s mouth. Now more than ever he loathed his coworker’s antics.

Still something had to be done, though what was still up in the air. Pondering this Scaramouche stood up. At the very least he ought to look after you, though whether this was tied into the emotions that roiled in him or simple logic he wasn’t yet sure of. At the very least there would certainly be more talking if he didn’t look on you than if he did. If there was anything that the Fatui loved it was erratic behavior. After all those who could be swayed into doing illogical things were certainly much easier to manipulate. No, better for him to make an appearance, to say that he was concerned you were on the verge of death which would have ruined his plans. This excuse in mind he stood up, urging his inner thoughts to silence as he walked out of the tent and into the afternoon sun.

The image he was greeted with upon entering your, or rather his, tent was all too reminiscent of how you had first looked in that forest where he had first met you. Face pale, a slight sheen of sweat visible on your brow, slicking your hair against your neck. Though your eyes had almost immediately snapped open upon hearing the voice of the medic they were unfocused, and for a moment it seemed as if you were squinting to make the Harbinger out.

It was a pathetic image of a person, and a mix of disgust, pity, and worry swept over Scaramouche. Silently hoping that he himself would never look so weak he sat on the only chair in the room, dismissing the medic with a wave of his hand, keeping his focus on you the whole time.

“So,” he began when you two were finally alone, “you have been saved from the teeth of death. If I had known the spectacle you were going to cause I would have never asked you to do such a thing.”

“Most visions don’t go that way,” you replied, voice husky and cracked from lack of use. “It was, it was because of the mirror.”

“You mentioned that before. This mirror, I presume it’s what we’re looking for.”

“I won’t look for it anymore,” your voice seemed to tremble slightly. “Even if my vision it was terrible. It warped the space around it, even from the future. If you were to get into the same room as it, were to try and touch it, I, I don’t know.”

“We must get a hold of it. If it is the Tsaritsa’s wish we would sacrifice a whole reserve for it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” you replied, voice quiet. The dispassionate tone sent a lance through Scaramouche, and for a moment he found himself unable to reply, knowing full well the answers he ought to be giving you, the total loyalty demanded by the archon he served.

“Still,” he finally continued, “you have showed me that you’re certainly not strong enough for this. From now on I will no longer provide you information about this mission, nor will I ask you to do anything to bring it about. All I need is a report about what you saw, if you wish you can write it yourself. There are other things that you would be better suited for.”

“What things? I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who has seen what could happen, what seems very likely to happen based on the fragments that were lined up in front of me. The best outcome I saw was that you were unable to find it. The worst,” you took a deep breath in, “the worst outcome is that the village goes up in flames.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Scaramouche, feeling irritation rise up inside of him. “I thought you would be grateful to hear that you wouldn’t be required to look into the future again, instead you insult me, insult the Fatui.”

“I am glad that you aren’t going to try and force me into the future. I don’t think you could truly convince me to anyways, but I’d rather not fight about it. Still, I want to be there, to make sure that this doesn’t happen. I have to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know anything. I don’t owe you information or position, you’re only here at my pleasure.”

“Yes! I am only here because you forced me to be here, only here because you asked me to do something I didn’t wish to do. And now you take the advice I give you and trample all over it! Why, why are you acting so irrational?”

“You’re the one acting irrational!” Scaramouche shot back, feeling a wave of panic shoot through him. The idea that you had managed to somehow divine the odd emotions that he was currently experiencing seemed unlikely, but that you could sense something was out of place was alarming. “I just need the report,” he pressed, feeling his voice raise in irritation, wanting this to be over.

As you stared at him, silence being your reply, the thoughts that whirled inside the Harbinger’s head seemed to get louder. Why was this suddenly so complicated? All Scaramouche’s career he had easily ordered his way around and over people. Deals were only made with other Harbingers, who quickly stepped aside to let the Balladeer do his duty. Never had someone simply refused his orders. The idea that you would do so, would turn down something so easy and to your benefit, was absolutely infuriating.

“I would like to rest a little more,” your voice finally broke through the thick silence. “I’m tired.”

“I would have gone a long time ago had you just listened to me,” Scaramouche pointed out.

“Please,” you shot him a look, “I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to fight either. I really don’t. It’s the last thing I want to do. I wanted to thank you in fact, for bringing me here rather than letting me lie on the ground or trying to slap me awake or something. But, but you just, you never listen. That’s what makes it so hard, what makes all of it so hard. You never listen so how, how are you ever supposed to hear me?”

The plaintive tone of your voice struck another blow, as Scaramouche found himself suddenly, suddenly what? He found himself leaning out of his chair, the urge to walk over to you so intense it seemed to steal the breath from his lungs. He wanted to do something, though what he wasn’t entirely sure of. To apologize? To demand? To scold? To, to console? What a stupid thing to do. Yet all these things he suddenly wanted to do. Of course he couldn’t do nay of these things, couldn’t push you any farther, couldn’t pull himself back. All he could do was lean forward, as if that might in some way convey what he was feeling.

“Is there something you want?” You asked.

“No,” Scaramouche stood up. “There is nothing more I wish to say to you.” What a lie that was.

Making his way over to the tent flap Scaramouche stopped. Quickly, almost in rebellion with his mind, he turned and walked over to you. Taking your wrist he pressed his fingers to it.

“Your pulse is still irregular,” he noted.

Spinning around and walking out of the tent the Harbinger fought the urge to scream at himself, scream for such an irrational act. Yet part of him wasn’t thinking about that at all, was instead marveling at how warm, how comfortable your hand had been in his own.

It seemed like an hour had passed by the time your pulse managed to right itself, though surely only a few minutes must’ve passed. You held your wrist in your other hand, staring down at it, as if willing the scene that had just passed to reappear before you. What was that, what in Teyvat was that? You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, could barely acknowledge that it had indeed happened at all. Scaramouche, the Harbinger, the man who had only moments before been berating you, that Scaramouche had walked over to you and checked your pulse, held your hand in his, if only for a moment. It seemed laughable, seemed so surreal as to have been a dream, yet it had surely happened.

Of course maybe to him that had been a completely normal thing to do. After all, the medic had told you that your pulse had been irregular. Surely Scaramouche would have noticed that too. Perhaps his self-righteousness had caused him to want to make his own judgement on the state of your health. Still that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat the moment it had happened, hadn’t stopped you from feeling like you were, for very different reasons than before.

You cradled your wrist, still able to feel the slight pressure his fingers had exerted on it, as if he had somehow branded you. His fingers had been surprisingly soft, not at all rough as you had expected it. Perhaps that was only natural, you knew that he sported no sword hilt, and there were no sharpening stones in his tent, meaning in all likelihood he was a catalyst user. Still, it was unexpected. His fingers had been surprisingly gentle, his palm with which he held your hand was soft and warm. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he were to hold your hand properly. A small part of you wondered if you might yet do so in the future.

Almost immediately you shook yourself violently, willing those thoughts out of your head. Even now the idea of doing something so domestic, so intimate, with Scaramouche seemed odd, almost heretical. He was a Harbinger, a bloodthirsty man, one who evidently had no problem with a village going up in flames. And yet, and yet…

You sighed, lying back down on the bed. You should sleep, you were exhausted. Everything was going fast, oh so fast. You couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep up with your feelings, with Scaramouche’s logic. All you wanted to do was block it out, to sleep. As you closed your eyes one final coherent thought floated through your head. He had, despite it all, not asked you to do it again.

You never realized you were dreaming until about halfway through your dreams. Even then you had no power to stop them, they pulled you along, like a riptide, waiting to drag you down into their depths.

You weren’t exactly sure how you got into the village, the all too familiar landscape. It was hot, and your thoughts seemed to melting along with your legs, as you tried to run towards the now blazing rooftops, yet found yourself hardly moving. Yet you kept moving forward, intent on something, though on what you weren’t sure of. Something very important to be sure. If only you could reach it.

Reaching some sort of back you shinnied your way between the burning. The flames licked at your clothes and at you, but you couldn’t feel them, they certainly weren’t any hotter than the rest of you. In fact the only side effect that seemed to be happening was how close the walls were becoming, so much so that you were barely getting through. Still you kept going, and eventually you found yourself out of the seemingly endless tunnel.

There were a few men in the distance, men who seemed to be barreling towards. Unease spiked through you, somehow you knew that whatever happened they shouldn’t catch you. Yet another part of you dismissed them as no important enough. No, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, there was something else. As you thought that they seemed to suddenly fade away, or perhaps it was that you had suddenly found yourself somewhere else.

Walking down this road that seemed so busy and so desolate you found yourself in field. Not questioning the black sky above you, the fact that there was a field in the middle of a tiny village, you approached a figure in the middle of the field. Somehow you already knew who it would be.

You had never really thought about the space that Scaramouche took up before. He was simply there, a man, a Harbinger, a person. Just there. Now however he seemed all too small, almost puny. His head was turned to the side, so much as to be unnatural. A slight dribble of blood pooled from his mouth, and his eyes stared with the glassy intensity of the dead, the kind of stare that would forever haunt. You seemed to float above him, high, high above. Yet you wanted to lower yourself, to shake him, to see if he was just pretending. Everything felt glassy and distant, like a play that you were part of but not actively participating in. Soon enough he’d pick himself off the ground and start yelling at you. Soon. Yet someone was wailing in the distance, and for once the voice seemed eerily familiar.

You opened your eyes, at first seeing nothing before the cloth ceiling of the tent finally revealed itself to you. Lying there, not daring to sit up or roll over or do anything, you replayed your dream. Before it had seemed so distant, so disconnected from you. Now however it close, all too close. Your back was sticky with sweat, and the sudden heaving of your chest, cause panic to flood through your mind, revealed how truly shaken you were. You had seen Scaramouche dead before, had seen his fallen frame in your visions. It had been so different then however. Then he had just been a Harbinger, just been a demanding man. Now however he was, something. Something else.

All this time you had worried about your feelings for Scaramouche, worried that they were just some figment of imagination that stemmed from your visions of the future. Perhaps that was partly the truth, perhaps those visions had indeed provided the fuse for your emotions. Yet somehow you had lit them, or more aptly somehow Scaramouche had. The image of him lying there, dead on the ground, filled you with such distress that it seemed liable to drown you. Even if these feelings were somehow made up, the result of some imagined Scaramouche in the future, some need to line yourself up with some possible path, they were still real. Painfully so, if this was a sign of anything.

Finally sick of lying in one position you sat up. Though the tent was opaque enough you could see little bits of light through the slits of the tent, and the slightly warm air had the distinct feeling of it being at least midday. Standing up you made your way, somewhat hesitantly, over to the flap of the tent. You needed to see Scaramouche, if only to try and convince him again not to go through with such a ridiculous plan. You needed to make sure that your dream didn’t become a reality.

Walking through the tented hallway you quickly ran into the same medic as before, this time pushing a tray with food on it.

“Oh good you’re up,” he said, voice slightly bored. “Maybe you’ll be able to leave tomorrow then.”

“I need to talk to Scaramouche,” you said, words tumbling out and running into one another. “It’s something of the greatest urgency.”

“I’m sorry but my lord isn’t here.”

“Isn’t here? Then, he…”

“He went off on a mission, he said if you were ready to leave before he came back to move you back into your tent tomorrow and to wait until he returned for further instructions.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes.” The medic replied, seemingly slightly impatient.

Turning around you fell right back onto the bed. Ruining the hospital corners you ripped the blanket over your head, willing it to block out all the light. You needed to get out, you needed to go find him. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you wanted to you doubted the medics would cross Scaramouche’s orders to keep you here until tomorrow. Even more so you had no information on what exactly he had done, though you were almost positive that he had gone to the village. Even if he hadn’t though you had to go check, go make sure. What he was doing was madness, running into a situation without fully comprehending it, what in Teyvat was he thinking?

Anxiety welled up inside you, consuming any and all thoughts you might’ve had. In their place was fear, pure distilled fear. Fear for the Harbinger that you didn’t want to die, and fear for the future that might not come to pass after all.

#genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #series #my writing

78 notes · View notes

rotshop · 3 years ago

Note

*slams into your inbox* I just read through mag reader and Deimos headcanons again and I love it. I would def be interested in seeing more! (Also are you sure you don’t wanna hold his hand? Even just a little?) -Echo

gonna do a funney little mix of ideas here ,,,,, lol ,,,,,,,, also yes i am sure <333 i go 'hey check out this funny fish' and then i hold his head underwater.

[ tw brief, light violence, body horror and gore / blood ]

context

auditor + mag s/o ;

-OK OK HEAR ME OUT .

-you weren't originally an aahw project. while they're definitely the biggest company of sorts around there's still a few others that are like them but not exactly them hanging around nevada. you happened to be in some facility they decided to raid due to them having some possibly useful information regarding the anti-aahw . she's definitely a little less than enthused to get a call from her agents that she should come check this out but ,, when she lays her eyes on u that immediately melts away

-he's VERY very curious about you. keeps you close which is kind of nice bc it means you're treated pretty well but also it means a lot of being watched. audi just has like. a habit of unconsciously ''''''''studying'''''''' you. they're always noting little behaviors of yours down mentally and asking you little questions abut how you came to be and what abilities you hold.

-believe it or not he actually DOESN'T want you in fights. she knows you're incredibly capable but the thought of you getting too involved in a bunch of clawing and tearing again makes her get uneasy. she just prefers for you to stay by her side, with the excuse that you're a body guard of sorts for her (you aren't, she's got several other, more disposable mags that serve that role just fine.).

-HOWEVER. there is one time where he doesn't get an option in that. a few contractees and dissenters attempted a raid on the base audi was at, hoping to try and get some sort of bargaining chip to make deal with. before they can even really attempt to try and land some sort of hit on them you're already pouncing on the nearest grunt, blood already spurting and painting the walls red in mere seconds of your arrival. it honest to god shocks her into stillness, her just watching motionlessly the entire time, only really moving once to dodge some limb you'd mindlessly thrown her way after tearing it from its socket. WHILE SHE IS IMPRESSED ,,, she still scolds you a little for being reckless while trying to scrub the blood off of you with a wet rag, huffing that 'you could've gotten seriously hurt' if you were any less careful >:/

-however he does do the thng where he like. cups both sides of your face and then presses his forehead against yours. you have to lean down a lot for him to do so but still. sighs a little while brushing his thumb under your eyes and tells you to be more careful from now on.

-auditor is not immune to favoritism and it shows. someone brings it up (shakily, of course) and she just shrugs and goes 'idk what you're talking abt' while petting you who's got your head on her lap. said person promptly gets 'dismissed' after.

-hates whenever anyone tries to put some kind of muzzle on you, even if its just for the jaw dislocation thingy it still makes him go kind of '>:|' . he'll let them for like. a day at MOST (unless you keep trying to get it off, then chances are he's just gonna take it off for you. nobody really bothers asking / trying to get it back on you bc he just sends them a sharp little glare before they even can. if you REALLY need it that bad then he might try and convince you to keep it on a little longer or otherwise take your mind of it, he still feels really bad about it tho . )

sanford + mag s/o ;

- :)

-you two knew each other before he dissented / you became a mag. worked pretty close together and were just close in general !! you didn't know dei super super well since he worked in a different area but you two met a few times and hit it off pretty well.

-anyway ! he doesn't take your magnification well. at all. the first few times he saw you after it were the worst, mostly because those few times were primarily because you were lashing out at agents for one reason or another (mostly maltreatment from guards / people being shitty in general) . for the first while its so obvious that you're just exhausted from what's happened to your body that was NOT meant to become this, that you're tired and on edge from not being allowed any real rest. it makes him feel fucking terrible to see how awful of a state you're in and know that there's next to nothing he can really do to help.

-it especially hits him when he notices the other little changes. there's some specific moment where he's holding onto you far too tightly, clutching at the back of your jacket while he does his best to keep composed. you always had this habit of giving a half jokey hum of some stupid little joke or even just a 'what's wrong, big guy?' whenever he seemed off or tense, he can't help but make note of the lack of real response from you in the moment other than you wrapping your arms around him as well. another time, maybe he tries to make some little inside joke after something reminded him of it, looking back at you with a little smile. it hits him with a special punch to the gut when he notices your confusion, you just can't recognize it. you don't remember it anymore. you don't remember a lot of your old self or interactions anymore.

-you two end up getting split up at one point or another. orginally, he'd planned to run away with you and deimos buut,,, one way or another, you weren't really able to get out. he goes looking for you a bunch but eventually he has to stop when it gets to be too much and he can't find any real sign of you, he's quiet for a long time after it.

-HOWEVER . he does eventually find you in some abandoned warehouse him and the others had planned to look for supplies in. the entire time he's in there he keeps hearing sounds he thinks are just dei or hank but every time he asks or comments on it they just give him a look of confusion or a little 'what are you talking about?' it puts him really on edge, it's worse when he's in one of the further corners, digging through a few boxes and desperately trying to ignore how much it feels like someones there. anyway umm lol its just you ,,,, ehe . it takes him a solid minute to process that its you but as soon as it clicks he's yelling your name and running up to hug you. doesn't even stop to think that you could totally tear him a new one right then and there he's just too happy to see you. dei and hank both come rushing over after hearing him, dei recognizes you too and is just kinda 'oh hey !! friend !! :D' while hank stands there and just kinda stares.

-is able to take you back to base without too much argument from the others. he does his best to fill you in on everything that's happened in hopes you'll explained what happened on your part too. even if you don't he can't be too upset since he's just too gd happy to see you again ,,,, chances are you stick around him a lot . deimos is nice but u don't remember him super well and hank makes you uneasy lmao . its ok he thinks its funny though, just laughs a little whenever you stand in his doorway in silence until he notices you :)

#rot writes #sanford x reader #auditor x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat x reader #madcom imagines #madness combat imagines #echo anon #oughghghgh sleepy .......... snsnsnsnsnsnns

119 notes · View notes

that-terrible-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Not Like This

I’m over trying to add this through Safari.

Part 3

Part 1 2

“You call yourself terrible but this, this is beautifully written and I need more.”

“This has got me on the edge!!!! I dont usually like reading series or even multiple parts but dude I wanna read more of it!!!!!!! Are you planning on writing more??? This is so fucking AMAZING”

Warning: Over 3.3k to make up for me sucking.

You felt you had an out-of-body experience. You could see everyone in the control room at STAR Labs, but you were only watching their lips move. No noise was coming out. It was pure silence. You were utterly dazed; you couldn't get the image of Iris crying out of your head. She seemed so helpless, not getting the answers that she wanted. What were you supposed to do? Confess to her that you were the other woman?

A yell snapped you out of your thoughts. Turning your head slightly, you saw Ralph getting closer to you, "Y/N!" Ralph yelled. You covered your ear, wincing at the volume of his voice. You swatted Ralph away from your space, taking a few steps back.

"What is your problem, Dibny?" You mumbled, taking another sip of your coffee. It missed your lips, spilling the hot liquid onto your sweater. You let out a groan, patting the stain in, slamming your coffee cup down on the desk. The group looked at you, not wanting to say the wrong thing; though, Ralph took one for the team.

"I didn't mean to annoy you, Y/N," He explained. Ralph cautioned himself, taking a step towards you, "It's just, now's not the time to be spacing out. You know, with Cicada still out there." You lightly nodded your head, understanding Ralph's point. You rubbed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry, Ralph. I didn't mean to take it out on you," You clarified. You glanced over at Barry, reading his worried look at you. Your heart ached when you locked eyes with him. A flash of Iris appeared, causing you to look away from him quickly. "Iris was over at my apartment last night, talking to me until 4 in the morning, so I didn't get much sleep last night."

You quickly saw Ralph's mood turned from concerned to being unsettled. You waved Ralph away from you, walking towards the doorway. You lifted your hand before letting anyone interject on what Iris was doing at your place. You looked over at them, "She's upset about the whole Nora thing. If you don't mind, I'm going to draft some weapon ideas and run them through Cisco." Cisco gave you a thumbs up, bringing the attention back to the Team, discussing ways to stop the biggest threat to Central City.

You walked by the weapon's room, heading straight to the lounge. You observed the room, seeing some things that Nora had left behind. You slowly made your way to the couch, plopping your heavy body onto it. You leaned your head back, letting out another frustrated sigh. You rethought your night with Iris when you knew you could no longer call yourself a friend anymore.

You brought over a cup of tea, sitting across from Iris. You thought that Iris would be out of tears, crying for an hour, and she still could go on for longer. You bit your thumb, trying to find the right words to say. Not to show concern for her, but to make sure you didn't let anything slip. Iris leaned over, cupping her drink close to her. She looked up at you, her face stained, her eyes puffy.

You grabbed a nearby box of tissues, handing them over to her. You watched as she blew her nose, sniffling the last bit. She collected herself, taking in a deep breath, "I'm sorry you had to watch that," She softly said.

You waved your hand, relaxing your shoulder, "Iris, it's okay. I would do the same if I were in your position." You waited until Iris took some time to drink her tea. You paused at first, not wanting to press on a sensitive matter. The curiosity was eating you alive, taking over, "Iris, why do you think Barry is cheating on you? Have you seen each other? You're the definition of couple goals." You clasped your hand over your mouth, not believing that you just asked her something so personal. Even if it did have to deal with you: you had to act like you didn't know.

Iris lightly laughed. You noticed the cup you gave Iris. It was the exact cup you were going to hand Barry when he interrupted you that night. You grew uneasy, rubbing your mouth and constantly moving your legs. You had to keep reminding yourself to calm down. You couldn't give away any tells.

"He's been more distant lately. He hasn't been relying on me as much. He used to come to me for emotional support; it's what a husband and wife do for each other, but when it came to Nora, he didn't want to discuss her." Iris explained. Her voice cracked, on the verge of crying again. Iris inhaled, calming herself down, trying to force a smile, "He came home this morning, and I don't know how to put it; he just seemed happy."

"Happy?'' You repeated. You furrowed your eyebrows together, shifting yourself on the chair. "How could he be happy? He sent Nora back; I would imagine happy is the last thing he would be feeling."

Iris shook her head, "I thought the same. Granted, I didn't know about Nora until he told me. He came home, all happy, then he informed me that he took her back to the future. I just can't figure him out anymore, Y/N." Iris placed her cup on the table to be able to put her head into her hands.

"I don't know what's going on, Iris. I'm in no place to tell you how to feel, but we need to remember Barry is going through a lot. Not only do we all have Cicada on our hands, but Barry also has to try and figure out Crisis. Then he learned that his daughter is working with the man that killed his mother. It's a lot to take in. We can't predict how someone could handle this type of thing." You tried your best to find a way to excuse Barry's behavior. You cursed under your breath, annoyed at how careless Barry was. You knew you had to speak with him, but you didn't need to grow any more suspicion.

"You're right; we don't know how Barry is handling all of this. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. It's just caught me thinking of so many things because he didn't come home last night. I've been just letting the worst come to mind." Iris confessed. You went over, sitting next to Iris, wrapping your arm around her. You took in a deep breath, having been heartbroken when you heard Iris let out her cries again.

Your stomach turned, remembering last night. Rubbing your face, you couldn't shake the feeling away. You noticed something at the table. A fresh cup of mocha had appeared, from Jitters, with Barry Allen staring down at you. His eyes lit up when they instantly locked with yours, a smile tugging on his lips; you could feel the spark that you both shared.

"Barry, we shouldn't be seen together." You mumbled, reaching over for the drink. You saw Barry shift his weight, but you stop before he could speak, "Iris came over: worried about you. I don't particularly appreciate lying to her, Bear. It would help if you fixed this with her. That's final."

In a blink of an eye, Barry had used his powers on you again. The room reminded you of an insane asylum. White covered every inch of the space. "It's Thawne's hideout," Barry explained.

"That makes sense," You joked, "Only a psycho would have a place like this." You looked around, seeing a stand against the wall, "Is it safe to talk in here?'

"It is," Barry confirmed. He walked over to the stand, hovering his hand over to reveal an artificial face. Barry saw you stiffen up, reaching out a hand towards you, "It's alright. This is Gideon. I created her in the future, and Thawne was using her while he was stuck here."

"Hello, Mr. Allen," The AI spoke, "Hello, Ms. Y/L/N." Your face didn't move. It was still showing the same puzzle expression.

"Gideon, can you pull up the article?" Barry requestion. Gideon pulled up the article that had you all worried.

THE FLASH VANISHES

"Barry, why do I need to see this?" You complained, "We are doing our best to find a way to avoid the crisis." Barry walked over to you, standing behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulder, turning you to face the article. He lowers his head to be close to your ear, trying to have you focus. Focusing: that was the last thing on your mind.

"Look who wrote the article," Barry whispered. You looked up at the name. Gideon zoomed in for you to make no mistake.

"Iris West?" You barely got out. You shook your head, pulling yourself from Barry. You turned to face him, crossing your arms, still in disbelief. "So, what does this mean?"

"That article used to say Iris West-Allen," Barry pointed out. He took steps closer to you while you did nothing to step away. Barry cups your face, rubbing his thumbs along your cheek, "It's now just West. Don't you see Y/N? We get to be together.

"The timeline is changing, just like Thawne explained. We can't stop the way that we feel. We can have a life together." Barry smiled.

"I don't know, Bear. I don't want to start a relationship based on what we did. Based on a lie." You confessed.

"Let me handle it then," Barry assured, "I will tell Iris everything. I will make sure that everything falls on me and that you can still have a friendship in the end." Barry kissed you. A soft and gentle kiss, telling you that everything was going to be okay. You stared at Barry, about to interject. Yet, a familiar flash came into view.

You gripped onto Barry's arm, seeing Nora at the other end of the room. Her eyes flashed red; she was panting, having red lighting come out of every part of her body. You should see the anger flowing through her. You turned Barry around, having him stare at his daughter. Barry reached out behind him, grabbing onto you.

"Nora, I need you to calm down," Barry instructed, stretching a hand out toward his daughter, motioning her to stop in her steps. Barry knew what was happening with Nora. She returned to the present using the negative speed force, rejecting everything he instructed her not to do.

"She's ruining our family," Nora yelled, causing you to wince. Nora looked at her father; disappointment came across her face. "Are we not enough? Was I not what you wanted?" Nora's voice cracked, causing you to have tears form.

"Nora, I didn't mean for it to happen," You plead. Your voice also cracked, feeling the heavy amount of guilt you had with Iris, just growing when Nora had to be the one to find out. You didn't mean for this to happen. You never meant for any of this to happen.

"She has to go, Dad," Nora ordered. She took a step closer, balling her fists, ready to take flight.

"Nora, we can talk about this." Barry tried to calm her. You felt the wind go through your hair. You thought it was Barry thinking quick on his feet, but he could only run for so long until Nora caught up. When you stopped, the figure placed you to your feet, helping you stand.

You quickly spun around, making sure Nora wasn't anywhere near you. "Don't worry. You're safe." The voice answered. You turned to see a young man in front of you, wearing a purple and white suit. "I'll always make sure you're safe." He had appeared to be in his 20s, wearing his hair like a certain Speedster.

"Barry?" You let out softly, confused at what you were seeing.

The young man laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He showed certain traits on how nervous he was before you: his hands were restless, flicking his fingers at the tip, rubbing his mouth, and biting at the end of his thumb. "You always tell me how much I look like him," He told you. You didn't know what to say; no words were coming out of your mouth. You looked around you, seeing that nothing looked familiar, "You don't know where we are?" He asked you. You slowly look over at him, shaking your head softly.

The young man rubbed his chin, muttering to himself, "Maybe it will happen later." That is what you were able to catch.

"I'm sorry, what?" You rebutted, "Who are you? Where am I?"

"Don't worry! You're still in Central City!" He assured you. You waved your hands as a disagreement.

"That's the last thing I am worried about, as I have an absolute stranger pick me up and take me away from my friends!" You yelled.

The boy placed his hands on his hip, and that instant: you knew where the dots connected.

Your phone rang; seeing it was Barry on the other line, you picked it up, "Y/N! Thank God you're okay!" Barry's voice sent a wave of safety through you. "Where did you go? Who took you?" You closed your eyes, focusing on Barry's voice, taking in deep breaths.

You looked over at the boy, seeing his ears perk. He stared at you, waving his finger at you, "Is that—is that really—" The kid couldn't finish a sentence. His excitement had taken over him.

"We got Nora into the Pipeline. We were able to knock her out with some anesthesia." Barry informed you, "You can come back if the speedster lets you."

You glanced over at the boy, "I don't think he's bad, Bear." You assured him, "I think—I think we know him from the future." You hung up the phone, walking your way over to the eager boy. "Do you think you could take me back to STAR Labs?" You questioned him.

"You serious?" He said. His voice showed the excitement he held, in a flash, taking you back to your previous location.

Your hair was a mess, standing in front of your friends: back in the control room of STAR Labs. Barry didn't think; he went over to you, pulling you into a loving embrace. You lightly tapped Barry's back, whispering to him so that only he could hear, "I'm okay."

Barry pulled himself away, turning to the boy. His face mimicked yours. He scrunched his brows, confused at the sight before him, "Why does he look so much like—"

"You." Cisco finished. Cisco walked over, taking a good look at the boy. He walked around him, examining his outfit and facial features. Cisco placed a hand under his chin, "The resemblance is uncanny."

"A little bit too uncanny," Ralph grumbled, looking over to your direction. You felt your stomach drop as you knew Ralph would quickly catch on to what you figured out.

"Are you here because of your sister?" Caitlyn mentioned, grabbing the boy's attention from you and Barry. He looked a bit confused and shook his head.

"No, Dawn doesn't know that I'm here. If she did, she would have my head," He joked. His smile grew wide, showing more of the Allen gene running through him.

"Dawn?" Caitlyn caught, tilting her head at the thought. "Don't you mean Nora?"

The boy shook his head again, "I think I would know the name of my sister."

You saw Ralph make his way over to you, pulling you to the side, "You need to take that kid away." He ordered you. You continued to stare at Ralph, your sight going over to the kid once and a while, "They may not see it, but it's only a matter of time until they catch on."

The boy wipes his hands on his pants, trying to straighten himself out. The smile he wore was the same smile Barry had. "Where are my manners. My parents did teach them to me," He chuckled, flashing his eyes over to Barry. "I'm Don Allen. I come from the future."

You and Ralph let out an annoyed sigh, quickly covering it up when the rest of the team looked at you. You make your way to Barry, tugging on his arm. Barry looks down at you, raising his eyebrows.

"Bear, we need to get this kid out of here. We need to speak to him alone." You informed him. It took Barry a while, realizing what was happening.

"Hey, Don," Barry spoke up, "How about we don't say anything about the future. We already have Nora in the Vault; we don't need any more future business involved." Don grew confused by Barry's remarks. He was able to read Barry's expression, understanding that nothing else needed to be said.

"Are you here to help us with Cicada? Like Nora was?" Cisco asked. Don looked over at the two of you, reading your worried expressions.

"Yes," Don said slowly; he turned to Cisco, pointing at him with a bit of a chuckle, "That is why I'm here. To help out with your bug problem. Me. Cicada. Yes." He was as awkward as Barry was; it wasn't helping.

Cisco let out a sigh of relief, having a smile on his face, "Great. The more help, the better. I'm close to the cure; we learned that Cicada's powers don't affect Killer Frost. I hope that enough recap for you because we can't waste any more time with this. We are a woman down, so we need all hands on deck!" Cisco clapped, getting everyone's attention. It was a signal to look busy.

Cisco left the room with Caitlyn to continue their efforts in completing the cure. Ralph followed behind. When Ralph was almost out of the room, you could see him mouth you some words: "Fix this!"

Barry waited a few moments, placing his hand along your lower back to guide you out of the control room. Don caught up, but the moment he tried to say anything, Barry placed an index finger to his lips to silence the kid. Barry put his hand on the wall, opening up a door to go back into Thawne's room.

"What are you doing here, Don?" Barry demanded the moment the wall sealed up. Don rubbed his hands, looking at his angry father. His mouth twitched, from going into a frown to just a thin line. "Don, you can tell me."

Don was pacing the room, "I don't understand," Don muttered, looking over his shoulder where the door was. He pointed towards the door, "They don't know?" Don asked both of you. You looked up at Barry, who had the same action, looking back at you. Don went over to you, grabbing your left hand to examine it.

"You're not married?" Don questioned you. You shook your head. Don ran his hands through his hair, getting more and more restless. "This can't be happening," He grunted. He turned to Barry, pointing his finger at the Red Speedster, "Why aren't you married to her?"

"Because he's married to Iris," You informed Don. Don looked over at you, the look of disappointment he had shown. "They've been married for a few years now. We're just friends." You felt Barry's hand resting on your side, his grip tightening. You took a moment, knowing what Don was going to say.

"Mom, you can't be serious," Don finally told you. The moment you knew the truth, you felt your breath leave your body. You felt faint, but with Barry holding onto you, you were able to stand. "You and dad need to be together! My being, Dawn's being, everything is disappearing in the future. You two not being together is destroying the future!"

You turned to look up at Barry. Barry looked at you, still calm over the revelation. Barry had to decide which future he wanted to have and had to choose which one had to go; the very thought made you sick to your stomach.

Tagged: @randomfanders-blog @ibe-anne @my-soul-is-the-moon

Permanent Tagged: @sxturn-stars

Some of the tags aren’t working and I’m sorry 😢

#Barry Allen #barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #DC imagines #dc imagine #arrowverse imagine #The Flash #the flash imagines #the flash imagine #the flash x reader #grant gustin #grant gustin imagine #grant gustin x reader #the cw flash

190 notes · View notes

amaryllisblackthorn · 4 years ago

Text

a lot of people have this idea that Annabeth's been like, a Luke apologist and in denial since the very beginning but it's not really true?. Annabeth was angry at Luke for his betrayal in the end of Lightning Thief and during Sea of Monsters. It's only until the end of The Titan's Curse that she starts the 'Luke really isn't that bad' kind of thing.

the end of Lightning Thief:

"I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him...He was never the same after his quest."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

She was really angry at him during Sea of Monsters. Her vision from the Sirens does indicate that deep down she may believe she's able to save him, or at least wants to, but it doesn't diminish the hurt and anger she does feel.

"How could you?" Annabeth sounded so angry I thought she'd explode. "Thalia saved your life! Our lives! How could you dishonor her--"

"Liar!"

"I understand you want to destroy the camp!" she yelled. "You're a monster!"

"Because you have none of your own [intelligence]!"

"That's disgusting!" Annabeth said.

"You're insane," Annabeth said.

"Go to Tartarus," she said.

All those above are on the Princess Andromeda with Luke. Then later, to Percy:

She shook her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."

Even in the beginning-ish of Titan's Curse, she doesn't trust him. When he's struggling under the sky and asking for her help, she's hesitant. It's only when the sky begins to fall that she goes to help hold it.

Annabeth had tears in her eyes. She reached down like she wanted to touch Luke's face, but at the last second she hesitated. "What happened?" she asked.

"Why should I trust you?" Annabeth asked. Her voice was filled with hurt.

Then the darkness above Luke began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Annabeth rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. She held it somehow--tons of rock. She kept it from collapsing on her and Luke with her own strength.

However!! There's a shift in her feelings by the time Percy and Thalia rescue her and I personally think it's because she's aware that Luke 'saved' her life for the time being after Atlas ordered him to kill her after Artemis took the sky -- even though he was super complicit in her being in that situation in the first place. Compare:

Luke hesitated. "She--she may yet be useful, sir. Further bait."

and

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleaded. "To Olympus. He...he'll be useful."

I don't think it's a conscious parallel on Annabeth's part per se, but Rick Riordan using the parallel to indicate the connection. I think that's when Annabeth discovers that Luke does still care deep down, and that deep down the person that she knows is there. which is fair, because before this point he hadn’t given her any indication seeing as he literally directed Oreius to eat her. that’s a whole ‘nother write-up, though, i think. i digress.

Once she knows this, she starts to view him as someone being manipulated and taken advantage of by Kronos, someone who was able to manipulate Ares, a god, in the first book, -- she's not wrong! He is being manipulated. That doesn't absolve him from his horrible behavior especially towards her, but she understands that Luke is a troubled, traumatized young man being taken advantage of by the evil King Titan, and she's also aware that literally no one else cares enough to try to save him.

like, the language Annabeth uses to describe Luke in the end of Titan’s Curse is the same that Percy uses to describe the demigods on the Titans’ side in Last Olympian.

"You don't believe me about Luke," Annabeth said, "but we'll see him again. He's in trouble, Percy. He's under Kronos's spell."

I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren’t monsters. They were demigods who’d fallen under Kronos’s spell. I couldn’t see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends.

there’s another callback with the language Percy uses to describe the opposing demigods in Last Olympian. this time, to what Percy says to Luke at the end of Lightning Thief.

“He’s brainwashing you, Luke.”

“You’re being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don’t listen to Kronos.”

This kid was getting brainwashed—trained to hate the gods and lash out because he’d been born half Olympian. Kronos was using him, and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.

Poseidon put his hand on my shoulder. “Percy, there were only a few demigod warriors aboard that ship, and they all chose to battle for Kronos. Perhaps some heeded your warning and escaped. If they did not . . . they chose their path.”

“They were brainwashed!” I said. “Now they’re dead and Kronos is still alive. That’s supposed to make me feel better?

Percy has sympathy for the demigods manipulated by Kronos to be on the Titan’s sides; he sees them as victims. the reason he doesn’t for Luke, I feel, is because Luke’s betrayal made it personal. I think this is where Percy’s fatal flaw comes into play, honestly, with the personal loyalty. both in regards to the personal betrayal to Percy, as well as Percy’s loyalty to Annabeth (and thus Luke’s betrayal of Annabeth, too). and i feel this also applies, to a lesser extent, to Ethan. but that’s a whole ‘nother write-up, too (one day!)

there is, admittedly, the factor of Luke’s age in comparison to Percy, Annabeth, and most of the other campers. there’s definitely a power imbalance -- especially with Annabeth, which isn’t okay, obviously. so even though he’s a victim and young himself, that power imbalance in regards to his actions, manipulations, etc is messed up and not okay.

even so, Luke is still pretty young himself -- not as young as the others, but still young. like, i got into this series when i was younger than Percy and Annabeth were, so Luke, like most early 20 year olds, seemed very old to me in that regard; it’s only as i got older and closer to his are that i started to really realize that heck he was really young. so while Luke is definitely an adult in regards to the relationship he has with Percy, Annabeth, and other younger demigods -- which he should have been mindful of and makes his manipulation etc very messed up and not okay -- he’s also young himself which is something to keep in mind. like, Luke is only around 19-22? in the series. That puts him at a power imbalance in regards to Annabeth and Percy, in which he's very much an adult in the relationship, but outside of that he's still pretty young! he’s a college kid, which when you’re younger seems pretty old but then you are one and realize differently -- his brain hasn't even fully developed yet. but i’m like, seriously digressing.

my intended point was that i disagree with the interpretation that Annabeth was blinded by emotions and a toxic relationship which led her to make excuses for Luke and unable to see him for what he really was etc,-- because Annabeth was angry at him after his betrayal and had even thought he was different, that he didn’t care anymore. The ‘Luke apologist’ behavior only starts at the end of Titan’s Curse, the third book in the five book series. I just feel like her ... feelings? perspective? position? idk the right word.... is often misrepresented?

she becomes very defensive over Luke’s ‘inner goodness’ and stuff because she’s literally the only one who wants to save him and knows it. she knows what he’s done isn’t okay, but she keeps driving it home that he’s being manipulated because he is! it doesn’t excuse his actions but it doesn’t have to. by the end of titan’s curse, annabeth sees luke as someone terribly lost and no one trying, willing, or caring enough to save him. and like, she’s right when she sees luke as someone who isn’t beyond saving, who’s extremely lost and being manipulated through his trauma and anger -- it doesn’t excuse what he’s doing but that doesn’t make him someone not worthy of saving. despite what he’s done, luke is still her family and she will fight for him. she sees luke the same way percy sees the other opposing demigods in the last olympian and she’s right. she’s not making excuses for him, she doesn’t think he’s done nothing wrong, she’s just not willing to give up on him and she was right. as the child in the relationship/dynamic, it wasn’t her responsibility to be the one to save him and shouldn’t have been, but she wasn’t wrong in how she saw Luke.

like, their was definitely a power imbalance in their relationship and it’s definitely important to acknowledge that, but i feel like people tend to like, erase annabeth’s agency, for lack of a better word, and attribute her desire to save Luke as being tragically misplaced? like, Luke has totally wronged Annabeth and mistreated her terribly, but like...I find her not giving up on him mostly admirable and not pitiable, though like I said as the child in their dynamic it wasn’t her responsibility. i’m rambling though.

mostly this post was made to remind people that Annabeth was angry towards Luke, and rightfully so, until near the end of Titan’s Curse, which is where her defending Luke and insisting he could be saved really started, likely with Luke indicating he actually still cared deep down for the first time being the catalyst. especially since it seems a lot of people give like the impression they think she’s done it from the very beginning? idk ive definitely rambled a lot and lost my main point sometime ago or something. enjoy this anyway.

#annabeth chase #pjato #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan #ab analyzes #i'm kind of expecting this to be somewhat controversial idk #;the last olympian #;titan's curse #;the lightning thief #;i have at least two other related metas i want to write up so hopefully ill get around to that

799 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 3 years ago

Text

From All Sides (P.1)

Title: From All Sides (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Pirate Tony. Tony is obsessed with a certain barmaid at port and showers her with gifts to try to bring her to his bed. She is resistant to his advances, her eyes elsewhere, specifically on her coworker, the cook. Although, that love is unrequited and always will be. The reader is forced into close quarters with Tony unexpectedly and sailing the sea, she slowly bends to his will. And he plans to give her all the affection he can to make sure she stays. Words: 2,279 Warnings: Eventual smut, violence, angst, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspiration

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

It was loud tonight. As fall neared, it always brought more to port. Many were tired from long summer excursions and were looking for reprieve. At least it was nightfall now and the heat was melting away to the breeze of the ocean.

You were walking up the street back towards the tavern where you were expected back. Your boss Evan had sent you down to fetch the breads the baker was going to throw out to make sure there was enough for the crowd when they were ordering their meals.

“Miss Y/N!” A voice called out and you sighed, stopping. You turned, keeping the basket close you were carrying, smiling.

Adam was coming through the crowd, looking ecstatic to see you. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and you felt your stomach clench. He was quite smitten and so very sweet; you were just not sure if you should commit to him. You had not found the way to get him to understand that yet, that you wanted some space, even with your polite declines to his dinners.

“Hot night,” he commented when he reached you. His smile was warm, his eyes alight at the sight of you.

“It is,” you agreed, matching his energy as best you could.

He held out the bouquet and said “I got these for you. I was hoping you would be at work though so I could ask to have dinner on your break?”

“I’m already on my break,” you lied easily. “Going back to work right now.”

His face fell. “Oh.” He recovered quickly, “Well, I will accompany you back?” He held out his arm.

Against your better judgment, you took it, allowing him to guide you. He was cordial, making small talk as usual. How someone as pure as him stayed at port was beyond you. But he had somehow found Peter too, just as kindhearted as him. The two of them made a pair. Although, Peter had been making an unsavory choice in alliance the last time Tony was at port... you had scolded Tony for a good ten minutes about how he should leave Peter be safe here at port and not on his dangerous voyages. If you were not mistaken, you had seen Tony jealous you cared so much for the boy.

The tavern you worked and lived at was packed. You weaved your way through the crowd, dodging people on instinct as they stumbled, Adam following your lead. You had worked here long enough to know the twists and turns of a drunken crowd.

Adam was close by as you moved behind the bar and he stayed by the entrance to the bar, waiting patiently. You left him knowing he would still wait, walking to the back, and handed over the basket to the cook, Eloise. She nodded in thankfulness.

You loved her smile, the way her lips formed. They were soft and you wanted to press your own to them.

“So many orders tonight,” she stated. “Tilda is doing well to keep them on the main course but there are others requesting other things.”

“Are we charging more for that?”

“You know it,” she winked. Your stomach fluttered at the gesture. “You better get back out there. Tilda is getting swamped! And poor Elizabeth is getting handled by a few tables. She needs to be more assertive, that girl.”

“I need to deal with Adam first,” you muttered.

“He’s back?” Eloise laughed, a twinkle in her eye. “My, he’s almost as persistent as Tony!”

“No one is as persistent as Tony.”

“He’s here, so you know. He ordered his usual dinner. One of the ones going off my menu!”

You almost groaned. You did not want to deal with his pawing on top of Adam’s doe eyes. Tony was easily provoked in his jealousness when it came to you, even though you had never let him between your legs, despite his best attempts to pursue you.

As you feared when you emerged from the back, Tony was hammering you to the spot with a piercing stare from the back of the tavern in a booth with some of his crew. He flicked his eyes to Adam before landing on you again you made note.

You had always brushed off his advances. Skirting around his smooth words and adjusting just out of the way where his lips were going to fall. Sometimes so close you could feel the brush of his lips against your jawline. He was a charmer.

Normally.

Tonight, he looked like a hangman, the way he was glowering at Adam. He already had a pint empty on the table and another by his bowl to replace it.

You liked Tony well enough — he was handsome, devilishly so — but it was Eloise you hung your heart on. Even if you knew she was never going to reciprocate the feelings. It was a terrible feeling to know that and still be invested. You wished you could turn your feelings to Tony even if you thought him fleeting.

Tony was known for being promiscuous and you thought he meant to get you in bed once and then be done with it. Despite all the gifts he brought you, trying to woo you, you could not help but to think he would easily discard you. Still... on the other hand, his persistence reminded you of Adam. He did not just bring you flowers either. He brought gems, jewelry, even a gown once. And not a cheap one at that. He was persistent in his chase and did not skimp on his treasures.

His last gift you wore now. It was beautiful. A seashell that seemed to glow in the light. It was on a simple cord but it was magnificent in its own right. And it settled perfectly on your chest. When he had given you it when he was here a month ago, he had been more than willing to be the one to clasp it around your neck. His fingers had flittered along your shoulder blades but he had pulled away at the last moment before you thought he was going to brush lower. He was persistent but he was also mindful to not push too hard; he did not want to lose you.

Sometimes you thought just the mere sight of you was enough to satiate him.

You pretended you did not notice Tony’s icy glare though, your eyes on Adam who was looking at you adoringly. You took the flowers from Adam and said, “I’ll put them in a vase in my room.” You took a long breath; he had actually remembered your favorites.

“I’ll bring more next week so you always have a fresh bouquet to look at,” Adam vowed.

“Oh, Adam. That’s not necessary,” you told him.

“It is for you,” he stated.

Tilda interrupted, coming in between the two of you facing you. “Hello, Y/N! Earth to you! I need help! The men are getting a little out of hand! You’re far more competent than Elizabeth!”

That poor girl. She still struggled with brushing off handsy men as she collected dishes.

You smiled at Adam over Tilda’s shoulder and said, “Sit at the bar. I’ll bring you a bowl of Eloise’s stew as soon as I can.”

He beamed at the offer as you turned around to put the flowers in a safe spot behind the bar until you could bring them upstairs.

<><><>

You had asked Tilda to take the booths, making sure to stay away from Tony’s booth although you had caught his eyes multiple times. He was not in good spirits, and you knew why. His gaze was layered with envy. Why did he have to come on the same night Adam decided he needed to try to court you? Adam had not left the bar stool yet and unlike Tony, his nose was not buried deep in a fourth pint, so he had a lot of life left in him. He was happy just to be in your presence.

Peter had joined him and was finishing his first pint. Great. You needed to keep an eye on him now to make sure he did not interact with any captain — especially Tony.

Much to your dismay though, his first mate made the plunge when you were away from the counter.

Steve had his arm around Peter’s shoulder, grinning friendly. Disgruntled, you quickly cleared plates, taking orders for more ale before coming back to the bar.

Steve met your gaze, grinning wickedly.

“Do you need to order something? Tilda was just at your table,” you said stiffly.

Steve shook his head. “No, no. Just following up with dear Peter here. He showed interest in sailing last time we were at port and he says he’s a fine cook. Ours could use an apprentice.”

“You can find an apprentice anywhere,” you snapped.

“Now, Peter, does she speak for you?” Steve asked, turning his attention to Peter.

Peter shot you a look and you saw him hesitating. It was an unfair position that Steve was putting him in. Peter respected you but he also knew the repercussions of if he let a woman make his decisions, especially in this crowd. And especially to a man who may be a ticket to his dream off this island.

Peter sucked his cheeks before saying, “You know, the room is actually spinning. Adam? Could you.... I think I need to go home?”

Adam read the signals quick and nodded, “Yes. Yeah, of course. I shouldn’t have let you have that second pint so quickly. Especially since you refused the delicious food from Eloise.”

The two of them stood quickly from their stools, Peter making quick to stumble a little before grabbing the bar to steady himself. He smiled at Steve and said, “Excuse me.”

Steve stared at him for a few seconds intently — he looked so disbelieving of Peter’s antics — before he smiled, “Of course. Go right ahead.”

He stepped out of the way and Peter met Adam before they made their way through the crowd. Adam threw a look over his shoulder at you and you gave a quick tight-lipped smile before turning your attention back to Steve who was watching you like a wolf.

“My my, you’ve just got your little claws in everyone’s hearts, don’t you?” He jeered.

“Do you need something?” you repeated, standing your ground. “I have tables to attend.”

“Two shots of rum,” Steve said, leaning on the counter.

You turned from him and grabbed the bottle and finding two glasses. You placed them on the counter in front of him and poured them out, his eyes searching. You corked the bottle back up and said, “Will they be on Tony’s tab...?”

“Hasn’t he given you enough treasures to warrant complimentary rum shots?” Steve pouted mockingly.

You ground your teeth for a few moments before waving him off. “Fine. On the house.” Steve winked lasciviously, “Much thanks, love.”

Annoyed, you turned away from him and went back to your business. The hours were doing nothing to calm the crowd yet and you begged for the impending witching hour and superstitions seeping into everyone’s psyches.

Handing some dirty glasses across the window from the bar to the back, you spotted your flowers in a vase again. You smiled softly, a moment’s reprieve. They were lovely. You leaned forward, eyes closed, and took a long inhale.

“If I knew picking a simple bundle of flowers by the shoreline would catch your attention so aptly, I would’ve saved myself a lot of trouble,” Tony said, barely above slurring his words from behind you.

You collected yourself before turning around to face him. He was leaning on the bar, slowly twirling his empty pint glass on its edge. He has long shed his coat, standing there in his leather vest over his shirt, unbuttoned just enough to expose his chest hair.

“Do you need water?” you questioned, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone and be concerned. It was hard knowing he had sent Steve up here to try to coerce poor Peter just to get into your sights.

Tony smiled broadly, looking charming as ever. You hated yourself for feeling the flutter in your stomach at it. “Sure. Thank you for being concerned for me, dearie.”

You turned and fetched him a glass of water and brought it over to him. He was close to you as he leaned on the bar, his eyes trailing down from your own gaze to your lips.

“I missed you all night,” he said, gripping the glass and bringing it towards himself. “It’s like you were avoiding me for that little pipsqueak.”

“He’s nice,” was all you offered, offering the new glass. He held out the empty and you traded him. His fingers brushed yours, longer than was necessary.

“Am I not?” Tony questioned, cocking his head.

“No. You’re very brutal — ruthless even. You’re only nice when you want something. Which is why you’re always so overly sweet to me,” you quipped without missing a beat.

Tony’s lips curled into a smile, staring at you with admiration. “I’ll always be sweet to you, love. Overly so too. Always.”

“Because I’ll always leave you wanting,” you quipped again, pushing away from the bar and walking off to go tend your tables, tossing his dirty pint glass into the bin.

“That necklace suits you. Still. I have matching earrings if you would just come to my cabin to collect them,” Tony called after you.

He would not be held at arm’s length forever. And you were not sure you wanted him to be.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #dark marvel #au marvel #my shit

71 notes · View notes

vidalinav · 4 years ago

Note

Decided to do this on anon—don’t like aggressive arguing (not yours). I kind of disagree with your rant. I don’t see how Nesta was made to change her personality. I saw no indication of that, even from Rhys. Channeling her powers is not a call to change who she is. I mean, Amren has a shitty personality, but she is tolerated and even respected. Nesta IS difficult and her personality isn’t great, even in ACOTAR. Like, she was, absolutely abusive to her family, to Feyre. Yes, there are reasons for it, but it doesn’t excuse the way she behaved. Now with the ‘intervention’ I genuinely think it was driven by good intentions. Not to change her personality, not to make her nice or placid, but to stop the self-destructive behavior. Was it ideal—that’s a different discussion. But going back to your original point—I just didn’t see how her personality was the driver behind ICs decisions. The only true asshole in the whole of IC was Mor, because her comments were dumb and unhelpful. The rest, I feel like they truly tried to deal with her spiral, and not who she was as a person. Sorry this is long. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to. PS love your headcanons.

You said this very respectfully so I really don’t mind. It’s definitely my interpretation of the reading. But I do feel that I disagree. I definitely think that Nesta has said bad things, and I don’t ever excuse that. But I also think that the only person who can really say that they were genuinely hurt by Nesta is Feyre, and the only person who has actively said that Nesta made up for it in some sense, because she did, is Feyre.

Rhys’s disdain comes from Feyre. Mor’s disdain as we note in ACOWAR, comes from Cassian. Elain’s problems are iffy, because you can both say that Elain is hurt by Nesta but also hurts Nesta. Relationships are two ways so we definitely chalk it up to that, unless the debate is who hurt the other worse. Which I don’t know that’s a good question. Words hurt a lot, but so does not feeling supported at your worst. So shrugs.

But I am also not arguing that the IC’s intention is for Nesta to change. I’m more arguing that the structure of the book does not work as a healing arc, because Nesta must change to fit in with this group, because everyone in the group has a problem whether unfounded or not (except for Azriel). That’s what happens. Let me explain. We get more scenes where they are actively using her when she really doesn’t want to, saying she has a choice and then being proven wrong by another character’s words, we have characters saying horrible things knowing that she is going through something terrible, and we have very few instances where empathy or compassion is shown. Rhys goes into her mind, and is compassionate for the moment and then reverts back. We don’t have ANY scene where any of them talk to Nesta, except for when Elain goes to the library and says something along the lines of are you healed yet? There is no time where they have a cry session, except with Cassian when he takes her to a healing mountain that is supposed to be her punishment, for admittedly something that they should all be punished for. Because is it the intention that was wrong or the information she spewed? To Rhys, it was the information, and that’s why he said he wanted to kill her. Very dramatic response that is excused under “mate protectiveness.” There are no times even when they are arguing which would work the same, because narratives are being exchanged and therefore possibly understood.

Nesta is ashamed of her own actions. She can be ashamed of her own actions that’s accountability, but she cannot be responsible for other people’s opinions of her and she cannot hold the sins of other people. But she does because there is no growth in anyone else except Nesta, because no one interacts with Nesta on a deeper level than solstice, when they need her power, or when she saves Feyre. But because there is none of that interaction, all of the instances after don’t seem genuine. There is no foundation for people to be close at all. So, all of the problems must remain or its a complete deviation from what has been said and done.

There is no problem with Feyre not putting a picture of Nesta, but there is a problem with it if the only time she does it is when Nesta proves her love, and does something that NO ONE will ever be able to repay, which I’m assuming was the point, because she is no longer held accountable for not hunting when they were young. It’s a problem if in ACOFAS, Feyre did want Nesta to be a part of her family, but then actively shows that she is not a part of the family. Because not only does she not validate what Nesta is going through in the text with a conversation or a note or whatever, after them having some sort of a relatively civil relationship after ACOWAR, she then makes this intervention which is not based on her own idea, which is suppose to be founded on “love,” which is not shown in a reciprocal scene until the END of the book.

This is not a problem of the characters, it’s not even a rag on the characters. It’s the fact that this is not a healing arc, based on the fact that the narrative is very imbalanced. Where is the empathy? Where is the compassion? Where is the validation that Nesta went through a war? That Nesta saw her father die? That Nesta almost died herself? All of the characters have trauma yes, but this is Nesta’s POV, this is Nesta’s book. This is suppose to be her healing. So where is it? We get it only with Gwyn and Emerie--that empathy, that compassion. But we don’t get it from the people who love her??

Again it’s not a question of these characters suck. It’s that the writing is not great. Because we could have eventually had compassion or empathy or validation or open communication throughout this book, even after the first initial anger of an intervention. But we didn’t get that. And because no one changed and because we don’t have any scenes with the others and Nesta, Nesta did have to change or she wouldn’t belong in the group. If they had growth alongside her, if they had an understanding scene, an argument, yadda yadda, where they understood Nesta or learned something about Nesta as she learned something about them, then the narrative would be based on accountability and acceptance. But that is not what happened.

And unfortunately that’s why it’s not very satisfying and why I don’t consider it a healing arc, because healing is based on growth and acceptance. Who is allowed to accept who if the only person who changes is Nesta, and a lot of the consequences that were placed on her were from other people who did not change nor have any scenes where they saw a different side of her except at the end when she saved Feyre?

*** But thank you for the compliment! I certainly hope you do not feel that I was attacking you. Just structuring my own argument in a way that makes sense. I tend to go on tangents.

#nesta archeron #anti acosf #anti SJM

86 notes · View notes

sunset-curve-fantom · 4 years ago

Note

You could do one where the reader is a mean and scary girl who scares everyone and she is friends with the boys and likes Reggie. Until one day the boys go through her things and discover that she likes someone, but does not say who. They repent anyway because the reader finds out and gets angry making the boys afraid of her. Reggie, with a bit of courage, asks the reader who she likes and she confesses that she likes him and Reggie confesses back?

Warnings: None

A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOY, I HOPE I DID THIS JUSTICE FOR YOU.

You had always been the girl everyone was terrified of, everywhere you went something terrible happened. Eventually, your friends began dropping out of your life, afraid of something happening to them for being in the same room as you.

So, you ended up being the freak, the person everyone was terrified of. You had lost so many people in your life; it seems everyone else was trying to avoid getting hurt as well. So, they just walked away when you needed people the most.

The only person who had enough courage to approach you was Julie Molina, bless her whole heart. She just lost her mom and she was going to confront the most mean and scary girl in her school.

“Excuse me?”

You turned around, hair swinging over your shoulder as you looked her up and down. Too busy to even care about her standing there. You turned back to your friends, “Excuse me” You heard again, but slightly more forceful.

“What” The anger was dripping from your words, everyone was terrified of you. Why wasn’t this girl? She just didn’t know when to walk away from a dangerous situation, meaning you.

“I just- can we have a moment skank’s?” She said, looking at your group of friends. This only make you laugh as you nodded at them.

“Well isn’t little Molina confident today, how can I help you?” She cowered back a little, almost afraid if she got too close something was going to happen. You had never actually hurt anyone, but lots of people close to you had died. Sets a bad precedent, I guess.

“Uh yeah- uh-uh-uh…”

“Spit it out, Molina” At this rate, she wasn’t going to tell you what she needed till Christmas.

“Uh- I was just thinking… I know you don’t have many close friends. And I know you lost your mom- so I was wondering if you wanted to come over after school? Just for a bit?” Julie said, almost scared of your reaction. No one has ever wanted to be your friend; let alone this girl you barely knew.

Your expression softened; it was not something you ever expected from her. She was the epitome of happiness and light, while you were so dark and full of sadness. It was an odd mix.

“Can I think about it? If that’s okay, Julie…” You said in a low voice, she nodded. Handing you a piece of paper with her phone number on it. To just let her know before the day was over.

This idea of a new friend, it brightened the anger you held in your soul. The mean and scary just became a way of deflecting the pain and suffering. It made you stronger and that was what was important, especially after such loss.

By third period, you had come to one conclusion. You were going to try your hardest to be friends with Julie Molina… and that was the first goal you had in many years.

You met Julie at the end of the day, walking back to her house. Deciding to spend your afternoon in the garage, you were surprised by the three boys sitting on the couch and chatting.

“Uh hi- I didn’t know you invited others?” You said, confusion clearly coating your features. While Julie was just stunned, clearly startled that you saw them.

“You can see them?”

You blinked rapidly and they were still there, “Uh yeah? Am I supposed to pretend they don’t exist or something?” You just chuckled under your breath, you found yourself quite funny.

The boys looked just as confused as Julie, “What?” You said again.

“They-they-uh they are ghosts…” Julie said, clearly waiting for your reaction. Instead of freaking out, you just sat your bag down before reaching out to the boy closest to you.

But your hand didn’t go through his shoulder, it just landed softly. As if he was really sitting in front of you. You whipped your head towards Julie, this girl you barely knew. You both were absolutely confused.

“Why-um I can touch him?” You said, swallowed the thick lump in your throat. Did you die and go to heaven or something? The boy you were touching finally spoke up,

“Well that’s a new occurrence because Julie goes right through us… And hi, I’m Reggie.” He said, clearly uncomfortable with his new reality. You could touch him, and it seems you are the only one who could.

“Well hi, uh I am Y/N. I just became friends with Julie today and this is totally weird but yet cool.” You said, the scary and mean behavior that everyone was used to, sliding off. Revealing the hurt, and scared girl underneath, who was trying so hard to hold herself together throughout the day.

You were in your own world before Julie spoke up, “And that’s Alex, and of course Luke. Ignore him, he flirts too much” You just laughed at her remark.

Instead of making one friend, you made four in one day. That is a whole new record.

The next few months were filled with some of the happiest times before you were faced with something new. A crush, a crush on a ghost. Like how do you even approach something like that? There is no book for it...

“Julie, what do I do? I have a crush on a ghost, he’s not living and technically I am a freak of nature and shouldn’t be able to see him” You huffed before landing on her bed. She just laughed at your reaction.

“You a crush? I thought you were all mean and scary and didn’t need anyone? Besides whom is-” Throwing a pillow at her before she could finish her statement, she laughed at your horrified reaction.

‘Seriously Jules… you don’t need to ask who it is; you already know just think about it” You said, handing her your journal. It was filled with lyrics and journal entries. It never mentioned a name, but it was clear that it was Reggie. He had opened a door into your world, that you never ever wanted to close.

She sat across from you, squealing at each entry. It was everything you didn’t know how to say, you had never been good with words. Especially after your mom died, it was hard to open up to anyone and be able to hold real relationships. That’s were the mean and scary persona comes in, when you hide your feelings. No one wants to be your friends, which means you didn’t have to open up. But that changed with Julie and the guys.

Julie was too busy squealing to herself, that she missed the boy’s poof in. She only noticed they had company when Alex spoke up, “Whatcha reading?”

He carefully made his way over to where Julie was sat, when you ripped the journal out of her hands, “It is none of your business, okay? You need to be rehearsing anyways” You said, placing the journal back into your bag. You and Julie made your way to the garage, but little did you know the guys stayed behind to read said journal.

In their eyes it was clear you had a crush, and it was bad. You were falling hard… They knew something had changed, as you didn’t come across so harsh anymore and you genuinely seemed happy, more often than not.

They put the journal back, and poofed into the garage before you and Julie got there, but the moment you saw them, you knew. You knew they had done something, but you couldn’t put your finger on what. That was until Luke started to sing YOUR song lyrics under his breath,

Life is a risk, but I will take it

Close my eyes and jump

Together, I think that we can make it

C'mon let's run

And rise through the night, you and I

We will fight to shine together, bright forever

You quickly turned around, glaring in Luke’s direction. The minute he caught your gaze, he knew he was in deep trouble, not only with you but with Julie.

You charged at him; every ounce of happiness drained from your face. “YOU?!? Do not tell me you did what I think you did…”

If he had blood running through his veins, he would be as pale as a literal ghost. He carefully backed away from you, hiding behind Alex

“We just wanted to know… Who is the guy? Cause you have been a lot happier recently” Luke said, you pushed Alex out of the way before making a beeline for Luke. You swiftly picked up a book from the piano and chucked it at his head. Of course, it hit him instead of going through.

“OUCH… I may have forgot you can do that. But we just wanted to know. You don’t have the scary façade anymore; you seem more genuine which is something we love to see. I didn’t even notice it at first, Reggie did.” Luke said, rubbing the back of his head. You whipped around again, this time looking at Reggie. He looked like he was going to shit his pants any moment.

“And what do you have to say? Cause it better be good” You said, stepping closer to him.

“I just- You seem more yourself, and I love to see that. I only wanted to know who this lucky guy was because you are one in a million. That’s all, I just wanted to know who he was and if he would take care of you the way you deserve” Reggie said honestly, it felt good to get it off his chest.

Alex just Aww’d in the background until you gave him a deathly glare.

“Reggie all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to read my journal. It doesn’t really tell you anything.” You said, as Reg laughed under his breath. You were so caught up in him, you missed Julie escorting the boys out, in their words “at the best part”

You took a deep breath before finishing your statement, you could feel the tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“Reg I have always the girl everyone was terrified of. I was scary and mean, and I had no one. Everyone, and I mean everyone hated me, and no one wanted to be my friend... I met Julie and that helped some, but you came into my life and you opened a door into my dark world. You fill everything with light, and I have fallen for you so hard. I have been so scared to even say something, I know my behavior has changed but that it because of you. You bring a happiness into my world that I never want to be without. It is you, Reg. I love you.” You said, hot tears pouring down your face.

He stepped towards you as he watched you fall apart. Reaching out he placed a warm hand to your cheek. His calloused thumb rubbing away tears. He wanted nothing more than to take away the pain from your past. He wanted nothing more than to fill your life everyday with happiness until he was unable to anymore.

“You, my love have no idea how much I have fallen for you. You aren’t scary or mean... you are perfect. That is all I see in you.” He said, placing a swift kiss to your forehead.

For the first time in your life, someone was deciding to stay instead of running away. You weren’t scary, you just needed to find the right person to bring a light into your life that you were missing.

Reggie was that light.

Taglist:

@notasofti @julies-molina @parkeret @calamitykaty @kcd15 @crybabyddl

@all-in-fangirl @gia-kerks @morganayennefertyrell

#julie molina #julie and the fat ones #julie and the phantoms #julie x reader #alex julie and the phantoms #reggie julie and the phantoms #reggie #reggie x reader #reggiesmut #alex #alex x reader #hollywood ghost club #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson smut #luke

188 notes · View notes

ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chances - Mark (Midsommar)

Warning: Major spoilers for the movie, drug use, this fic is dogshite, toxic relationships, and just overall fucked up situations

~~~~~~~~~~

(my gif actually)

“Dani, do you really think it’s a good idea to go?”

Dani sighed heavily when you asked that exact question for the fourth time while she was marking her calendar for when their flight to Sweden would take place. “Yes, Y/N. I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

You knew she wasn’t fine.

“I just, I do think getting out of this tiny little apartment would be good for you...but does it have to be on the other side of the world?”

Dani scoffed. “It’s not on the other side of the world, babe, it’s just across the Atlantic.”

“It’s far enough.” You pouted. “Plus, going with that guy isn’t a good idea either.”

“You’ve known Christian as long as you’ve known me, Y/N. You should know his name by now.”

“I do know his name, I just don’t like saying it.”

Dani frowned. “He’s my boyfriend, you’ve gotta learn to accept him at some point.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t give you what you need, Dani. He’s terrible at supporting you all the time. He’s an asshole.”

“It’s my relationship. Not yours.” Dani snapped, quickly sighing in frustration and sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“No, I’m sorry. I...just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Dani smiled weakly, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for a side hug. “I know, babe, I know. I gotta believe this trip to Sweden is exactly what we need.”

“I really hope so, for your sake.”

Dani subtly wiped away a shed tear off her face, faking a wide smile. “So, did you decide if you wanted to go to the party tonight?”

“Depends, is Mark gonna be there?”

“You know he is.”

“Then no.”

“Come on, Mark’s a good guy.” She’s stifled a chuckle.

“Girl, you can’t even keep a straight face.” You laughed.

“You used to be date him and actually enjoyed spending time with him, ya know.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Please, it’ll be fun! Pelle and Josh will be there too, it won’t just be Mark.”

“Josh is a smart ass who gets on my nerves. I mean, who the hell studies anthropology?”

“Hey!”

“Oh hush, you’re studying psychology.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Okay, Ms. Environmental Scientist.” She said, making you chuckle. “So, are you coming to that party with me or what?”

You didn’t really enjoy going to parties...like, at all. Even if Dani invited you to one, you always made some sort of excuse to get you out of going. But ever since the incident with her family, you felt you needed to spend every waking moment with her, mostly out of fear that you’d lose her forever. You probably spent more time with Dani than her so called boyfriend.

You felt selfish for feeling pained that Christian was the first one she called when she got the news. You knew her family, actually made an effort to get to know them unlike Christian, and always saw her parents as your own and her sister was always kind to you. You felt like you lost a lot too, but you didn’t allow yourself to feel that way for long, not when they weren’t actually your family. If you were being honest, you haven’t allowed yourself to grieve at all. You spend most of your time taking care of Dani, never having the time to do anything for yourself.

The company Dani kept also was one of the reasons you never wanted to go to one of those parties. Pelle was nice, you could actually see him as a friend. Josh was a know-it-all. To be fair, you were a know-it-all too, but at least you didn’t brag about it every chance you got.

You couldn’t stand Christian. You always saw how awful Christian treated Dani, and how she just took it. One day, you actually almost got into a psychical fight with him for how he gaslighted her. Dani didn’t talk to you for a week after that, and after that, you tried not to let your anger out because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

Mark...god, Mark could be so annoying. You used to be a couple, it’s true. But after seeing him not do anything about his “best friend” mentally abusing his girlfriend, you couldn’t just stay with him anymore, it just didn’t feel right. Plus, him being way too overprotective was not something that you liked in a person. It was heartbreaking since you actually liked him a lot, you could’ve truthfully say you loved the guy.

You didn’t dislike Mark as much as Christian, but he constantly got on your nerves after your break up. But Dani always reminded you how insecure he must’ve been after the fact. Doesn’t excuse his behavior, of course, but it did help keep your anger in check whenever he tried to push your buttons. If he wasn’t such a dick, you probably would’ve seen an actual future with him, that could’ve been happy.

Yeah...you really didn’t want to go to this party. But seeing Dani’s almost pleading face, you couldn’t argue with her.

So, you were dragged to the last party you would attend before Dani and her friends were shipped off to Sweden, until she got back.

You could see the obviously look of annoyance from Christian when you and Dani entered the apartment. He took Dani to the one of the corner’s of the room and you could faintly hear their conversation, “Why’d you have to bring her, Dani? She almost punched me in the nose last time...”

Your fists clenched instinctively, making your nails dig into the soft flesh. It hurt, but at least it kept you from socking the dude in the face like you’ve always had the urge to do. A dull glared expression settled on your face.

“Aw, is someone happy to see me?”

You immediately rolled your eyes when you heard Mark’s voice, him walking up to you with a shit eating grin plastered on his pale freckled face. “No, I think she’s probably thinking up ways to kill you, friend.” Pelle joked, making you smile a little.

“Honestly, he’s not that far off.” You shrugged, half joking.

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes, brushing off your hurtful comment with a bitter smile. “Why are you even here? We didn’t invite you.”

“I’m here for Dani.”

“Well, we didn’t explicitly invite her either.” Pelle smacked the boy behind his head so you didn’t have to. “Dude, ow! Hey, it’s not my fault Dani’s a buzzkill.”

Almost as if you could only see red, you were about to punch the ever loving fuck out of his handsome stupid gorgeous face when Christian came up and pulled you out of the room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You hissed, forcibly pushing him away from you.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not looking for a fight. Okay? I have to ask you something.” He sighed.

“Spit it out then.”

“Do you want to come to Sweden with us?” He asked monotone, not hiding the glare directed to you.

“Wow, you must really want me to go.”

“It was Pelle’s idea. He thinks it would be good for Dani.”

“Since when do you care what’s good for Dani? Oh, wait, you don’t. It seems Pelle cares more for her than you do.”

“I care about Dani, okay? I care. That’s the only reason I was convinced to ask you. Please, just...she needs you. She’s your best friend, you don’t want to let her down, do you?”

Gaslighting. You knew that Christian wouldn’t be able to convince you without his number one douchebag power to make your heart bleed more than it already does. He didn’t even have to ask a second time.

And next thing you knew, you were on a plane headed to Sweden. Of course, they had to torture you with booking you a seat next to Mark. But you could handle it for Dani.

“God, I can’t wait to see all those Swedish ladies.” Mark mused, a slight smirk on his face, knowing that comment would upset you.

If those Swedish ladies had any sense, they’d stay away from the giant man completely, is what you wanted to say. But deciding to keep your comments to yourself, you just tried not to gag, rolling your eyes and keeping your eyes trained out the window, seeing the ground getting farther and farther away until your flying above the clouds.

“Silent treatment, huh? I always took you for a social butterfly.” He teased.

You took a deep breath, turning to look at him with a sickeningly sweet smile. “You do know there’s a mosquito flying around your head, right?”

The smirk on Mark’s face quickly went away, turning into a panicked expression. “Where? Where?” He almost shouted, flailing his arms around his head to swat away the imaginary insect. His panic made you laugh. You felt evil, but you convinced yourself he deserved it. When he heard you laugh, he quickly realized you lied. “Not fucking funny.” He pouted, running his hands through his hair, still paranoid.

You sighed when he kept a frown on his face, still looking around for that fake fly. “I swear, there’s no fly. This is the cleanest plane I’ve ever seen in my life, okay? There wouldn’t be any bugs in here.” You never could stay mean for long, even if it was Mark. The small grateful smile Mark gave you made it worth it, and suddenly felt your heart yearn for him against your will.

Many hours later and you finally arrived in Stockholm, only to be told you guys had to travel four more hours to get to Hälsingland. “Oh my god!” Mark whined, like a little bitch you might add.

Thankfully, you always came prepared, sticking some ear buds in and blasting music at full volume to avoid possible small talk and annoying remarks from the two frat bros. You really loved your preparedness after taking your ear buds out for one second only to hear Mark talking about seeing some video about a woman with three clits, what a moron, a cute moron...

You looked at the time, it was nearing 6 pm, but the sky was still blue as ever. It was a bit unnerving, but you tried to ignore the sense of dread you felt when you guys finally arrived to one of your destinations.

You tried not to laugh as Mark pulled his socks over his jeans and walking in a panic to try to avoid potential insect threats in the grass. “Dude, just fucking walk!” Josh fussed.

“Don’t you see all the bugs?!”

“I’m sure all those bugs are much more terrified of you than you are of them.” You voiced.

“Yeah, well, what if they’re so scared that they gang up to attack me in retaliation, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, speeding up your pace to catch up with Dani. Pelle introduced his friend, Ingemar, and his friends, Simon and Connie. They seemed like good people, until they pulled out the shrooms.

It’s not like you hated drugs, you smoked pot pretty much every other day before bed, but shrooms looked hardcore compared to grass. You did not want to partake. But Dani surprised you when she accepted the offer of the tea. “Do you think that’s a good idea, Dani?” You asked concerned.

“She can think for herself.” Christian voiced with a happy and calm tone, but you didn’t mistake the threatening undertone in his voice.

“Hey, it’s okay. Promise.” Dani reassured. You just didn’t want her to have a bad trip or anything, it’s not what she needed, as if you actually knew what she needed. You didn’t even know what you needed half the time. “Are you going to?” She asked, her hand holding onto the bag of shrooms outstretched to you.

“Oh, no. I’m good.” You backed away slightly.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Mark asked mockingly. “You gonna be a pussy?”

Your eyes narrowed in annoyance. If only looks could kill...You grabbed the bag, popping a couple mushrooms in your mouth, immediately cringing in disgust at the taste. You chewed quickly and swallowed, almost regretting the action as soon as you did so. Since when was Mark of all people able to successfully peer pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do? The fuck?

“There’s a nice place to sit over here, guys!” Pelle voiced, motioning the group over to a tree in the middle of the field.

It didn’t take that long for the drugs to kick in. You’d never taken shrooms before, but you definitely noticed when you came up due to how the world around you was starting to look warped, almost like nature was breathing. You felt more appreciative of nature in that moment, and with Pelle talking all philosophical like, it wasn’t hard to relax into the sweet embrace of the drug.

You looked over to Dani, she was the most calm you’ve ever seen her, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You snapped out of the thought, not wanting to hyper focus on a drug. “Oh fuck, a new person.” Christian groaned.

“What? I don’t want new people right now!” Mark whined.

“Now who’s being a pussy.” You mumbled, loud enough for him to hear it.

“I’m going lay down. Everyone else lay down too.” Mark settled on the ground, still breathing heavily. “Guys, do it, it feels so nice. Josh, Y/N, can you lay down please?”

“Fuck off.” You spat while Josh did as he was asked.

“Y/N, please, lay down.” You furrowed your brows when you heard the desperation in his voice, almost like he was going to cry.

“Jesus, fine.” You huffed, laying down on the soft grass.

The sun shining through the leaves of the trees was enough to put you back into a relaxed state, almost giggling at the warped rays of light. “This is nice...” You whispered to yourself.

You jolted when Dani stood up all of a sudden. “I need to go for a walk.” Dani voiced, the waver in her voice clear as day to you.

“Dani, are you okay?” You stood up, wobbling slightly, Dani’s figure waving as she walked away.

“Fine, I’m fine.”

You wanted to follow her, but were you capable enough to give her support if you were high as a kite? It didn’t matter at the point. You probably stood there trying to decide for about five minutes before you actually starting walking in the same direction Dani went, but then it was too late. You didn’t see her anywhere.

Walking into the woods, you immediately got lost in nature, enjoying the colors that seemed to be amplified from the drug. You smiled to yourself, not even the arms wrapping around your shoulders could force your mouth to pull downwards. “Hi.” Mark whispered, giggling as he tightened his embrace.

“What?”

You turned yourself around in his arms. “Why’d you follow me?”

“I’m not allowed to see what my friend is doing out in the woods?”

“I’m looking for Dani, and we’re not friends.”

Mark pouted. “We used to be more than friends. Why’d we ever break up?”

You frowned. “Cause you excused Christian’s behavior towards Dani. Plus, you were always a dick.”

“Rude. And to be fair, I’ve been trying to convince Christian to break up with her. They should’ve called it quits awhile ago.”

“The first thing you’ve said in your entire life that’s actually correct. How’re you an undergrad again?”

If you were sober, you would have never let Mark lean in and kiss you. At least, that’s what you hoped you would’ve done. But his lips were so soft and he was so gentle, you almost wished you were sober to experience the kiss better. It almost felt nostalgic in a way, even though it hadn’t been that long since you two broke up. You had to stop yourself from leaning back in for more when he pulled away.

“You reciprocated.” Mark smiled softly, caressing your face gently.

“Did I? I didn’t mean to, sorry.”

“I miss you, Y/N, a lot. I know you miss me too.” He whispered.

You shook your head and quickly walked away, not feeling like talking about...well, your feelings. Sobering up quickly after that, you kicked yourself for allowing that to happen, even if you happened to enjoy it very much.

You pretty much avoided Mark after the encounter in the woods, you were too awkward to confront your problems with other people, in that regard anyway. But thankfully, six hours after finding Dani peacefully sleeping off the drugs, it was time to hike through even more woods to get to Pelle’s village.

“So, we’re stopping in Waco before we go to Pelle’s village?” Mark joked.

Yeah, the all white clothing everyone wore did put you off just a bit, almost giving you Jonestown vibes. But they were so nice, taking your bags and giving you strawberries. They seemed like okay people.

You looked over to Mark, rolling your eyes as you saw him exhale smoke from his vape pen. Even in the presence of strangers, he still had no respect apparently. Josh even had to stop him from eating prematurely during one the first meals of the day. The ritualistic part confused you, but you just wrote it off as culture shock.

Sitting in between Dani and Pelle, you almost hit yourself for not remembering a very important fact. “Happy birthday, Dani!” You grinned. “I can’t believe I forgot, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Dani rubbed your shoulder. “Pelle actually gave me a drawing, which was incredibly sweet.” She said, causing him to have a slight blush on his face.

“I actually did get you something, but it’s in my luggage. Make sure to remind me tonight. But what about Christian?” Dani frowned. “He forgot...of course he did.”

“It’s not his fault. I forgot to remind him, that’s all.”

“Dani, you shouldn’t have to remind him.” You scoffed. “Let’s just hope he remembers soon, else I’ll have to castrate him.”

“Anyway, what’s up with you and Mark? You’ve been avoiding him ever since we hiked here.” She whispered.

You internally groaned. “I always avoid Mark.” Dani just gave you an unimpressed look. “Can you like, stop being a mind reader for once in your life?” You whined.

“What happened?”

You sighed, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “We kissed...” You quickly put your hand over her mouth to stop her from squealing like a school girl. “Shh. It was when we were both high. Didn’t mean anything, at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

The conversation didn’t sway your decision to not stop avoiding Mark, you were going to avoid him for as long as possible and not even Dani could convince you to do otherwise. But you kept thinking about that kiss, and you suddenly found yourself wondering if there was any shock therapy places in Sweden.

Walking around the village a bit more by yourself to try and get some more bearings, Pelle joined you with his usual calming smile. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s pretty interesting, I’d say. Living in New York never really gave me opportunities to be in nature, so this is great. I probably never wouldn’t come if it weren’t for you, Pelle.”

Pelle nodded. “I felt it was best for Dani, considering. She needs someone she can count on.”

“Yeah. It’s great that you’re looking out for her, it’s like you should be with her instead of Christian.” You cringed. “Oh god, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Damn it.”

Pelle chuckled nervously. “It’s okay. Speaking of couples, are you and Mark-”

“Nope.” You quickly interrupted. “Not a chance.”

He hummed in thought. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just, he told me about what happened...”

You groaned. “That little shit.”

"You know, I think you should give him a second chance."

You laughed. "That came out of nowhere."

"No. It didn't. Mark has always had a thing for you. And I probably shouldn’t tell you this but, he always talks about how he regrets how things went between you two. He still cares about you.”

You frowned, the feeling of missing the bastard starting to bubble up in your heart. “We weren’t good for each other. He needs to grow up.”

“Yes, I do agree he’s...a bit immature.”

“An understatement, Pelle.” You snorted.

“Personally, I am a big believer of second chances. I just think what if I die tomorrow, would I be happy with my choices in life? You never know when that time will come.”

“Jesus, since when have you been so dark?”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You don’t know when you’re gonna die, so I’d try to live life without regrets.” He smiled calmly.

You kept thinking about what Pelle said well into the night. You had trouble getting over the creepiness of his statements at first, but you knew he meant well. You did miss Mark, more often than you’d admit. You hated that you kind of agreed with Pelle about the whole regret thing.

The next morning, you woke up with a terrible headache. Thinking way too hard for hours on end wasn’t good for your brain. But, it did give you some perspective on how you’d go about interacting with Mark. You admitted to yourself that you did want to be with him, but you also didn’t want to rush into giving him another chance, knowing that just a smidge of eagerness would give the man an overinflated ego.

“What was the name of that activity you said last night, Pelle?” Dani asked.

“Ättestupa.” He answered.

“Sounds fun.” You said, half joking. “Wish we knew what was going to happened, but you seem to love surprises.” You directed to Pelle, a cheeky smile on your face.

From afar, Mark couldn’t help but glare at Pelle. To anyone one else, you were just being friendly, and if Mark had any sense at all, it would’ve just been a friendly smile to him too. He couldn’t help but feel jealous, but even he knew he had no right to be jealous since you two weren’t together. Maybe that was his problem, he thought, being too overprotective when you were in a relationship with him. God, he knew being an immature bastard would bite him in the ass one day. He just didn’t realize someone important to him would be scared away in the process.

The brief eye contact the two of you made threw you for a loop, that sense of longing for one another.

“Can you two stop eye fucking each other, please?” Josh voiced rudely. Strangely, it didn’t phase the two of you. Josh only rolled his eyes. “Fine. Miss breakfast then.”

You eventually forced yourself to look away from Mark, the both of you following the rest of group outside for the meal. Of course, the only seat left was next to Mark. How convenient...

Mark was silent as you stood next to him, taking short glances at you and the ground nervously. “Somebody should tell those girls they’re walking stupid.” He joked, trying to lift some of the tension. It didn’t work.

A boy rung a bell, an old man and woman walked two their assigned seats, and everyone only sat down until they did. Another rack of culture shock moved through you were the couple started chanting in what you assumed was Swedish, but it was honestly hard to tell.

After that, you just ate your food in silence. You were annoyed that you were too awkward to even look in Mark’s direction. But eventually, he cleared his throat to speak. “Did you sleep well?”

It was odd, hearing him sound so timid and quiet. “Uh, I guess so. I don’t really remember falling asleep.” You chucked nervously.

“So...yesterday-”

“Please, don’t.” You interrupted with a huff.

“I think we should talk about it at least.”

You bit your lip in thought, silently agreeing with him. “Not right now. Maybe after, whatever Ättestupa is. Okay?”

He sighed, nodding his head. “Fine. Fine.”

Mark stayed behind as you, your friends, and the rest of the Hårga journeyed to wherever this activity was taking place. You all were standing at the bottom of a cliff, waiting. “What’s this activity supposed to be?” You asked, but no one gave you an answer.

You sighed, crossing your arms around yourself. Whatever was supposed to happen was taking a long time, you almost felt bored. But soon you really wished you’d stayed behind with Mark back at the village.

Everyone watched as the old woman stood at the edge of the cliff, holding her arms outstretched to the sky. You could sense Dani hyperventilating, and you also felt a feeling of dread. You had no idea what was happening, and it scared you.

You let out a loud gasp as the woman fell from the cliff, her body falling onto a stone platform below, her face hitting it hard enough to completely mutilate any recollection that this woman was a human being once. Her face was caved in, it almost didn’t feel real.

You were in silent shock, not comprehending anything else around you, even with how loud Simon and Connie were freaking out.

All you could do was watch as the old man did the same, walking off the cliff and hitting the platform leg first.

“Oh my god, he’s still alive...”

All of the Hårga cried out when they saw the poor man was still alive, sharing his pain that he must’ve been feeling. A few members of the village ended his suffering, taking a large mallet and caving in his face like his partner in the senicide.

One of the elders, Siv, said that taking their own lives was a great joy and that this ritual had been done for many years. You couldn’t believe how barbaric these people were when they were so nice at first. Why were all these people so unfazed by seeing their own people die violently in front of them?

All you could do was follow everyone to the village in silence. You did the same as Dani. You needed to be by yourself right now. You sped walked to the woods surrounding the village, leaning against a tree in exhaustion. Did that really happen, you asked yourself.

You slid down to the ground as you let the tears start flowing. You didn’t want to be in this place anymore, how could you? You thought back to what Pelle said. He knew that the ritual was happening and he didn’t warn you guys at all. Why would he do that?

“Y/N?” You heard a voice call out. You didn’t answer, you didn’t trust your voice not to come out distorted from your sobbing. Finally making his way through the clearing, Mark saw you hugging yourself on the ground in tears. “Are you okay? I...heard about what happened.”

“No. No, I am not okay. I just saw two people jump to their fucking deaths!” You tried not to cry.

Mark was never good an emotional support, so he simply walked over and sat next to you as you cried. You didn’t know how he managed to pull you onto his lap without you noticing, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care, so you just held onto him like your life depended on it. You didn’t want him to let you go.

“I wanna leave this place...” You mumbled.

“I think that’s understandable.”

“How’s Dani? Did you see her at all?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“I don’t want to leave without her. I gotta find her.” You wiped the leftover tears from your cheeks, standing up with along with Mark. “Will you come with us?”

Mark didn't expect you to ask that. “You want me to go with you?”

“I have a bad feeling about this place. I don’t want any one of us to stay here, but I want you and Dani to come with me at least. I...I still care about you too.” Mark blushed as soon as you said that, making you chuckle lightly. “Seeing those poor people die...I don’t want to live with regrets, I already have enough of those. I don’t want to give up on us without trying to make things work. I admit, I gave up on you too easily. I don’t want to do that again. Okay?”

Mark couldn’t help himself, he soon planted a passionate kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, you weren’t afraid of opening yourself up to him anymore. You wanted him, you’ve always wanted him. It just took a rough wake up call to remind you of that.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tip toes to meet his lips easier. You felt safe in his arms, him holding you so close that the world and the messed up situation you both were in seemed to fade away. But you knew you were limited on time. You both pulled away breathlessly, wearing smiles on your faces.

“I love you.” Mark said, shocking you. “What? Live life without regrets, right?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, you’re right. I love you.”

“Now, let’s get outta here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, I left it open ended on purpose. I’d like to think that they escaped the Hårga. But if they didn’t, at least they’re together lmao.

Whenever I feel bad that Mark died in the movie, I just think to how he must’ve put up a fight since that cunt who led him away had a busted lip. Did he deserve it? Yes, probably. But...but...he was a cutie pie🥺

Also, I’m trying to write a fic with Kenny from We’re The Millers, but IT’S SO HARD. Kenny, in general, is hard to write since he’s so...well...himself. Another thing is that the plot is all over the place and my mind keeps bouncing between a bunch of ideas so, it’s literally starting to look like gibberish. But i’m trying

#midsommar #Mark (Midsommar)#mark x reader #im very tired

115 notes · View notes

botanicallyinclinednerd · 4 years ago

Text

*sigh* I entertained the cursed thought of Evil!Leon and now it won't leave, so fuck it: bullet point frame work

Warnings for blood, temporary character death, graphic injury, murder, attempted murder, angst with a happy ending, magic reveal

First of all this is also immortal Leon, because I could

Morgana is discovered by a patrol headed by Leon and he's the only one of the round table there.

For some reason or another Morgana is having a really bad life day and completely obliterates the patrol in her rage.

And for narrative purposes/ the man is very sturdy, Leon somehow survives the assault, but he's not in good shape

Morgana, in her full sadistic glory, offers a painfully dying Leon a second chance, he need only pledge himself to her and she would heal him

Leon, while chocking on blood, defiantly glares at her, declaring "You're wasting your time Morgana, I will die before I betray Arthur"

And at this something hardens in Morgana's eyes and she lunges forward with a dagger and plunges it into Leon's heart, twisting it violently while hissing "so you shall" before pulling it back out

This, obviously, kills him

And for some reason or another, maybe its a part of why Morgana is having a no good very bad terrible awful day, she sticks around the site of the massacre for a bit rather than immediately leave.

Which is how she witnesses Sir Leon, whose heart she plunged a dagger into not an hour ago, take a gasping breath

This, quite understandably, scares the shit out of both of them

It scares the shit out of Morgana because she knows she killed him, there is no way he's alive

And it scares the shit out of Leon for much of the same reasons, he knows she killed him, why the fuck was he breathing (he did not know he was immortal before this point)

And while Morgana is still in shock, Leon asks angrily what she did to him, why did she bring him back (while he is scrambling for his sword and to rise, because that worked soo well for him the first time)

Morgana tilts her head at him, a slow sinister smile spreading across her face as she replies "I did nothing my dear knight"

And it is in this moment that Leon realizes he fucked up

Morgana probably kills him again for good measure, to see what will happen, and sure enough, he's back again in a little while.

Leon is freaking the fuck out and Morgana's day just completely turned around because she has Arthur's most loyal knight, his first knight, and he can't die

To make a long process short, she kills him for transport to where ever she's hiding, kills him a few more times because she can, and as she does so she formulates a plan. Since it has become quite obvious that Leon was not aware of his allergy to death, Morgana reasoned that no one back at the castle would know either. And if she could control Leon... well. Camelot and Arthur's head on a platter was as good as hers.

Since her last attempt to kill Arthur by proxy through a creature ended poorly, Morgana decides on an enchantment.

I’m thinking maybe the spell has a caveat, the only way for it to be broken is if Leon was killed by another Immortal's hand, something Morgana is certain is impossible, and is sure to gleefully inform Leon of this so in his last moments of free will, his hope and spirit would break

When Leon returns to Camelot, he doesn't act strange. A little haunted maybe, but not outwardly out of character

He says he was the only person to survive the attack by Morgana, and he barely made it away with his life (she either roughed him up to make this believable, or he did it himself)

Everyone is relieved he’s safe and back home

Arthur makes a light hearted joke about how this was the second time Leon was the lucky sole survivor of an attack, and he really needs to stop scaring Arthur like this, he’s starting to think he's doing it on purpose

And in the first indication that something might be off, Leon smirks at this, his laugh much darker than usual, and he makes a returning dark joke. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing that couldn't be explained as him having survivors guilt and being exhausted and in pain

And for a while everything seems fine.

Everything is not fine.

Leon is a much more subtle assassin than Merlin was. Much more patient as well. His first attempt is in a patrol in the woods, where he tries to catch Arthur off guard.

Arthur notices in time and fends him off, expressing confusion, and Leon pulls what he pulled in Servant of Two Masters when he finds Arthur behind the tree: awkward apologetic smile (much more sinister this time, his eyes are much colder)

He apologizes profusely, being a bit self depreciating as he admits that he was still a bit jumpy from his last trek through the woods and was on edge

Arthur accepts this and just tells him to be more careful, though ultimately there was no harm done

Arthur turns away and Leon frowns/glares

Maybe Arthur makes a passing mention of it to Merlin, asking him if he noticed Leon jumpier than usual, and Merlin replies that he hasn't really seemed jumpy per say, but definitely quieter and more closed off

Again, this isn't a huge red flag considering that he went through, but Merlin starts to pay closer attention to Leon, just in case

Leon seems fairly normal. He's a little quicker to temper, and his humor is much darker than usual, and his smiles are more smirks than anything, but he's not really treating anyone any differently

His behavior isn't suspicious, he's not in questionable places, he's just Leon with some survivors guilt and trauma. So Merlin relaxes.

When a mystery assailant keeps setting traps and ambushes for Arthur in cleaver and subtle ways, Merlin is at his wits end trying to figure out who it is. And he’s getting worried, as the last two attempts very nearly succeeded.

Leon is a very patient assassin. This drives Morgana nuts

She demands he meet her outside the castle walls one night when he's on solo rounds of the castle to demand what is taking so long

"Do you want him dead or not?"

"Of course I want him dead, I want him dead NOW. Stop dragging your feet and kill him already!"

And let me tell you, Morgana may have taken control of his loyalty and twisted his motivations, but she could never rid Leon of his sass

"Morgana, this is why you've never managed to kill Arthur. No patience. No attempts on Arthur's life have ever succeeded for a reason, I'm avoiding those mistakes. You can have it done quick or done right, I'm trying to do it right."

In the end, Leon had a valid point, as it was Morgana's impatience that demanded Leon sneak away from his rounds to meet her, and caught Merlin's attention as he saw Leon sneaking into the woods

Merlin follows Leon and sees him meeting with Morgana and every alarm bell goes off in his head. Because Leon despises Morgana, and he would never betray Arthur, never. Not willingly at least. So Merlin figures out that Leon is compromised, and all those near misses on Arthur recently that Merlin couldn't figure out the source of must have been Leon's doing.

Leon tells Morgana she just needs to wait one day more, as he plans to kill Arthur the following night. Morgana hisses at him "see that you do" and leaves

Merlin follows Leon back to the castle where the knight continued on his rounds, prompting Merlin to run to his and Gaius's quarters.

Gaius isn't happy to be woken in the middle of the night, until Merlin explains what he saw

"Leon? Working with Morgana? Are you certain?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. I heard Leon tell Morgana he was going to kill Arthur tomorrow night. Leon would never betray Arthur, especially not to Morgana. She did something to him, I know she has"

They quickly rule out a femora and eventually conclude that it must be an enchantment. One so powerful to bind and manipulate one's loyalties and will would have to have a very specific condition to break it. The only way to stop/ save Leon and protect Arthur is for Merlin to figure out what it is so he can break it

He does not manage to figure it out

So when night comes and Leon is acting shifty as he heads in the direction of Arthur's chambers, Merlin has to do something, prepared or not

He comes up with an excuse or another to get Leon to come with him, its urgent, blah blah blah

Merlin pulls Leon into an empty room where no one would be likely to find them or interrupt them. And Leon tolerates Merlin's rambling excuse for pulling him aside for a few moments before he's had enough and brushes Merlin off, trying to leave

And Merlin doesn't let him, blocking the exit.

Leon is still trying to maintain his cover, but his patience is finally beginning to run out

He tells Merlin to move, he has duties to attend to, and Merlin cuts to the chase. “I can’t let you hurt Arthur, Leon”

And Leon studies Merlin, nods, and breaks out into a wide smirk. “Took you long enough to figure out. What gave me away?”

And Merlin is thrown by the sudden shift in behavior, but as long as Leon is talking he isn’t killing Arthur, so he’ll take it.

“I saw you talking to Morgana. I heard you plotting to kill Arthur.”

And Leon nods, tutting. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that Merlin.”

And Merlin is in desperate ‘try to reason with him’ mode, which is obviously not working because Leon is under a powerful enchantment. And while it was amusing at the start to toy with Merlin, Leon has had enough.

All patience has run out.

"Merlin, if you do not get out of my way and keep your mouth shut, I will kill you, and do so gladly"

Merlin of course does neither of these things.

Leon attacks Merlin, and Merlin barely dodges the sword. Merlin is, understandably, pretty scared. This is someone he considers a close friend, a brother, and he's currently trying to kill him. Merlin tries to talk Leon down, but its not working. There is taunting involved, and some very evil smirks

All the while Leon is swinging at Merlin with his sword, coming very close to hitting Merlin.

The final straw is when Leon knocks Merlin down, stands over him with his sword to his chest, and taunts Merlin that he is going to kill him, and then he's going to kill Arthur, and there is nothing Merlin can do about it

Well. Yes. Yes there is.

Merlin's eyes flash gold and before his eyes can even widen in surprise at this unexpected development, Leon is thrown backwards into a wall. Hard.

His head hits the wall with a sickening crack and collapses into a still heap.

Merlin is very much panicking as he scrambles up and over to Leon, feeling for any sign of a pulse.

He can't find one.

Merlin desperately tries to cast a healing spell but its not working. Leon's dead.

Important note for the record: Merlin did not know Leon was immortal. Merlin also did not know the stipulation that would release Leon from Morgana's enchantment.

So Merlin thinks he just killed a man he viewed as a big brother

He takes this about as well as could be expected: absolutely horribly.

He’s crying, babbling definitely, the words "I'm so sorry" "I didn't mean to" "please wake up" are mixed in there and repeated a lot

And then, lo and behold, Leon woke up

Its hard to say who was more surprised: Leon or Merlin

It would be fair to say Merlin, as his brother he accidentally killed ten minutes ago was sitting up in his arms, definitely alive

But it would also be fair to say Leon, who decidedly was himself again, free of Morgana's enchantment. Which should have been impossible, save from dying at the hand of an immortal. So not only is Leon dealing with being himself again, but he's also processing the information that apparently Merlin is immortal. And oh yeah: killed him by using magic

So they are both freaking out

And Merlin stammers out a mess of words that boils down to "what?? How are you alive? You, you were dead, I know you were dead! Oh gods, you were dead, I killed you, I swear I didn't mean to, you were trying to kill Arthur, you were trying to kill me, I was just trying to stop you, I didn't mean to kill you..." and he's clinging to Leon during this, and is totally not still crying

And Leon eventually manages to get a word in and halt Merlin's rambling with an exasperated and slightly hysterical "Merlin, I'm not dead!"

"You were!"

"Can we focus on that later? Is Arthur alright?"

And now Merlin is instantly back on alert, drawing back a bit to study Leon's face, but still holding his shoulders. "He's fine." At Leon's sigh of relief, Merlin asks slowly "Do you still want to kill him?"

And Leon is instantly horrified and shaking his head vehemently declaring "No!"

And then he stops, thinks, and realizes he truly meant it. He no longer felt any distain towards his friend and king, the sickly poisoning influence from Morgana's enchantment gone

Which was only possible at the hand of another immortal.

Leon's brain is going a million miles an hour, his often misused or missing brain cells taking longer than they should to come to the obvious conclusion, but in his defense, he had a lot to process, and it is a pretty unbelievable conclusion

"Merlin, you said you killed me?"

And the guilt is right back with Merlin apologizing and defending with "I swear I didn't mean to!"

"But you're sure YOU killed me? Absolutely positive?"

And Merlin's starting to get a bit annoyed, why the fuck would he lie about killing a man he viewed as a brother? "Yeah Leon, I'm pretty sure. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it"

If this had been normal circumstances, Leon may have comforted Merlin, but these were most certainly not normal circumstances, because if Merlin killed him, that had to mean one thing:

"Merlin, since when are you immortal?"

What ever Merlin was expecting Leon to say, it sure as fuck wasn't that (friendly reminder that Merlin doesn't know he's immortal at this point)

So it is with very real confusion that he says slowly "I'm... not?"

"Clearly you are, or I would probably be trying to kill you to get to Arthur right now"

This is clearly the wrong thing to say, because Merlin now thinks this is an elaborate trick, and somehow, has come to the conclusion that this isn't even Leon, or if it is, he's a Shade like Lancelot was.

So Merlin scrambles to his feet, grabbing Leon's sword and pointing it at him. Leon raises his hands in alarm and also to placate Merlin (he’s still not used to being immortal and forgot that the sword can’t actually do him permanent harm)

"Merlin, I'm not going to kill you. The enchantment Morgana had over me is gone, you broke it" ("with magic" is screamed loudly in his head, but one earth shattering topic at a time)

"I don't believe you"

"The enchantment had a condition to it: the only way to escape Morgana's control was if another immortal took my life. You killed me, and now that control is gone. I have no desire to hurt Arthur or you, or anyone else in Camelot." I swear to you on-" he goes to say his life and realizes that maybe that wouldn't mean as much anymore and adjusts "I swear to you on my honor as a knight of Camelot."

Merlin doesn't know what to believe. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. So he makes Leon explain everything, which he does. Leon still has all his memories, though some of them seem a little distorted and distant, but still there are the same

When Leon finishes, Merlin puts down the sword, approaches Leon and makes him promise again. He does so, and Merlin finally believes him

He collapses into a sitting position next to Leon, looking exhausted but relieved. They are silent for a bit until finally...

Leon eventually decides its time to address the elephant in the room: "Merlin, how long have you been practicing magic?" It’s said in a way that aims for nonchalance and misses by several miles

Merlin, naturally, goes pale and plays dumb

"Merlin, I saw your eyes glow gold and then I was being flung across the room. That's magic"

And Merlin's still denying it, fiercely, and Leon has had a very long day and an even longer month

"Merlin, I'm having a hard enough time knowing what's real and what's not right now, please don't make me question this too"

And what was Merlin supposed to do? Continue to deny what Leon clearly figured out?

"I was born with it" is whispered, a scared admission

"I didn't think that was possible"

"Yeah well, I'm special"

"I could have told you that Merlin"

This is going much better than Merlin thought it would. He expected anger, yelling at least. Not teasing, as tired as it sounds

"Are you going to tell Arthur?" Is asked in that same scared voice from before

He should. Leon knows he should. As a knight of Camelot, it was his duty to uphold the laws of the kingdom, and magic is against those laws.

But it was also his duty to protect the king, a duty, through no fault of his own, he had abandoned and gone against. Where as Merlin did his job for him.

That and he could not deny his friendship to the younger man, the protective nature he felt for him

Seeing Merlin stare at him with fear and resignation, like he had already been condemned to death, Leon realized there was really only ever one possible response he could give:

"No. I'm not"

Merlin did not expect this.

When he sees Merlin's surprise, Leon gently bumps Merlin with his shoulder. "Merlin, I know you. You would never hurt Arthur, would never do anything to put Camelot in danger. Magic or not, that doesn't change. I would not risk condemning you to exile or death when you have done no harm"

At Merlin's pained look between Leon and the wall, Leon sighs. "I'm fine Merlin. I'm more than fine, you broke Morgana's enchantment. It was not... ideal, but it was the only way"

Merlin shakes his head "Leon, I didn't know. I didn't know you'd come back. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have. I killed you, using magic. How do you not hate me?"

"Merlin," Leon waits for Merlin to make eye contact, putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Magic has saved my life, in the past. And as far as I'm concerned, it saved my soul today. Am I wary of it? Yes, because I have seen the harm it can do in cruel hands. But I also know that it can protect and heal in kind ones. How many times have you saved Arthur's life?"

Startled by the sudden question, Merlin answers honestly "I've lost count"

"How many times have you used your magic to protect, to save?"

"Always"

Leon ruffles Merlin's hair with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I could never hate you for upholding the same ideals I live by Merlin, regardless of your methods of doing so."

And finally, finally Merlin gets it. He's not going to be imprisoned, he's not going to be outed as a sorcerer, Leon is alive and himself again and has no intention of hurting him, and Merlin doesn't have to worry about losing his friend anymore because apparently he's immortal and he is too but he is not about to deal with that right now (and also let's be real, he’s still going to worry about Leon)

It is with this that Merlin finally relaxes for the first time in a long time, shuffling closer to Leon and leaning against him, the knight putting an arm around him and pulling him close, each taking comfort in the presence of the other

It's a lot to take in, and it will take many conversations and explanations over the next few days and weeks to even begin to unpack and comprehend it all, but for now, each man was left with the relief and knowledge that they were safe with the person beside them.

The end! This is not at all what I thought it would be when I first started to write it, but I'm okay with that. If anyone wants to write this into a proper full length fic feel free to do so, I just ask that you please credit me and send it to me so I can read it!

80 notes · View notes

voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Text

Smile and Nod (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Six: “Stop, please”

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James, Tim Stoker, Elias Bouchard, Original Character

CW: Harassment, Unwanted Advances

Summary:

“He said to let go of him.” The voice startles them both and Jon turns to see Martin, a placid smile on his face. He is tall, so tall- was Martin always this tall?

Jon runs into trouble at the Institute’s annual donor party and has an unlikely rescuer.

The Institute hosted a party for its most illustrious donors every spring. Jon had never been expected to go to it until his promotion to Head Archivist and even then he tried to get it out of it, to no avail.

“I’m afraid it’s part of your duties now as Head Archivist,” Elias had said. “We need to have a face for every department and I’m sure quite a few of our donors are anxious to meet Gertrude’s replacement. You understand, of course.” Jon nodded. “I trust you’ll be on your best behavior.” He hadn’t forgotten his promise to ‘be more lovely’ after the incident with Naomi Herne.

“Yes, yes,” Jon sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to the event- sticking close to Elias’s side didn’t seem very appealing, but being left to the wolves was even worse. Elias seemed to notice his hesitation and paused, waiting for Jon to continue. Perhaps he didn’t have to go alone. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?

“W-Would it,” he began, cursing his stutter. “That is, I would like to- if you don’t mind, I think it would be valuable to have my assistants attend, as well?” He hated the uptick in his voice that made it sound more like a question. “I-I just think it would be a good experience for them to ah, meet the donors as well. Since they do a lot of the research.” Another reminder that he had no idea what he was doing; Elias hadn’t said anything about his methods in the Archives, so he only hoped that indicated a tacit agreement about the way things should be run.

Jon watched several emotions flit across the man’s face, irritation and disappointment giving way to resignation. He tried to ignore the first two and focus on the last. “Alright,” Elias agreed with a sigh. “Please stress the formality of this event, particularly to Mr. Blackwood. You’ll be representing the Institute, and as such you will be expected to interact with our donors. See that you don’t use your assistants as a social crutch.” Damn. There goes his plan. At least I’ll have some support.

So here he was, standing in the hallway with his assistants in an ill-fitting suit he last wore to the funeral of a distant cousin. It didn’t fit then, either. He hoped he didn’t look too much like a child in his father’s clothes, but the snickers from Tim and Sasha dashed any hope of that. They looked wonderful, of course, as they always did. Martin was in the same boat as Jon, fidgeting in a blazer and non-matching pants.

“Well boss, looks like it’s time to schmooze!” Tim clapped a hand on his shoulder and steered him through the door. Elias liked to have his parties in the main library- it was the most beautiful part of the Institute, aside from the entrance hall. The tables and desks that normally populated the center of the room had been cleared away to reveal a rather spacious area for guests to mingle and talk over the sound of a tasteful string quartet. The whole event was incredibly elegant and Jon felt like he very much did not belong.

“Ah, there he is!” He heard Elias call from the right-hand corner of the room, where he was surrounded by several well-to-do donors dressed to the nines. He gestured him over with a magnanimous hand and Jon instantly flushed. Tim squeezed his shoulder and pushed him in their general direction. “This is our new Head Archivist, Jonathan Sims. He’s been doing fine work thus far.”

After a moment Tim’s hand is replaced by Elias’s, firm and weighty on his shoulder. He’s exchanging pleasantries with people whose names he forgets almost instantly- their hands are cold and their voices distant, they talk over him as if he were a child they judged and found wanting. Elias’s hand did not move and he was anchored in place, even as they made no move to include him in their conversation.

He saw Martin give him a look of pity from the corner that he was currently occupying with Sasha and Tim. They had their hands full of hors d'oeuvres and drinks and Jon wished desperately for a glass of water, anything to keep his hands occupied. He turned to realize the conversation had stopped and his companions were staring at him expectantly. “I’m sorry?” he hazarded, wondering if he’d been addressed.

“Our son George,” the woman over-enunciated, her tone condescending. Jon remembered vaguely that she had some connection to the Fairchilds, though her name wasn’t familiar. “-is over by the bar. I think you’ll find his company a bit more interesting, hm?” The group tittered and Jon felt shame rise in his throat as his boss’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

“Yes Jon, why don’t you introduce yourself?” Elias said genially enough, though Jon can tell he had disappointed him once again. Jon nodded, excusing himself to go to the corner to get a much-needed drink and to embarrass himself further. There was a man roughly his age fiddling around on his phone with a bored expression. He was tall and handsome but in the soft way of the rich, cruel and cherubic in equal measure. It unnerved Jon and he summoned up a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“G-George?” he asked, willing his voice to steady. The man looked up, expression unchanged as his eyes bored into Jon’s. “I’m Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist-”

“Parents send you over?” he smirked and Jon felt the tension in his shoulders ease just a bit. “Sorry you had to deal with them. This your first time at one of these? Median age here is usually around seventy five, give or take.” He laughed and Jon smiled, the man’s candor a bit charming even to him.

“Y-Yes, I’m not really sure I should be here,” he admitted as George slid a drink into his hand. He took a grateful sip and closed his eyes at it’s smooth burn- this was expensive liquor and Jon was going to savor every last bit.

“That makes two of us,” the man nudged him with his elbow and Jon started to think the night might not be as bad as he thought. He glanced quickly over to the other side of the room- Tim winked and gave him a thumbs-up (which he ignored) and Martin’s face was carefully blank. Jon did not know what to make of that.

George, it seemed, was not all that bad. He listened patiently when Jon went off on a rant about book-binding, nodding and smiling at all the right parts. In return, Jon let him talk about finance for longer than was polite (and God was it boring). They’ve now had two drinks and Jon is feeling much, much looser. The smiles are genuine and unforced. He watches Elias nod in approval out of the corner of his eye and feels his chest warm with pride. Not a complete disappointment, am I?

But George is getting closer. It was fine when they were awkwardly perched on opposite ends of the bar and needed to hear one another, but this was getting too cozy for Jon’s tastes. He tries to take a casual step backwards but stumbles. George’s hand goes to his elbow to help steady him and stays there.

“I-I think I need to-” he starts to mumble an excuse but the man is not having it.

“What do you say we get out of here?” He whispers, coming in closer. Jon’s nerves reach a fever-pitch but he does not want to show it, doesn’t want to make a scene so he keeps the smile pasted on his face. “My apartment’s not that far-”

“O-Oh, I’m f-fine, thanks,” he says, trying to dislodge the man’s arm but it is no use- he is much stronger than he looks and has at least half a foot on him. “I actually have plans-”

“With who?” George asks pityingly as Jon tries desperately to meet anyone’s eyes, even Elias’s. He tries to convey his plea without making it obvious to any other bystanders but his boss’s eyes slide right over him. He knows he saw, he knows-

“That’s why they sent you over, right?” George continues, his mouth dangerously close to Jon’s neck as he leans into whisper in his ear. “Pretty thing like you, get me to open the cheque book-”

“Good Lord no, let me go-” at this Jon scoffs, horrified as he tries to yank his arm away.

“Don’t make a scene,” the man says in a low and calming voice, though the leer on his face is clear to see. Jon feels terribly small. “You don’t want to disappoint the boss, do you?”

“Please,” he begs, all out of words. “Stop, please-”

“He said to let go of him.” The voice startles them both and Jon turns to see Martin, a placid smile on his face. He is tall, so tall- was Martin always this tall?

“I’m sorry?” George replies with a sneer, his voice raising in both pitch and volume and Jon is sure if people weren’t looking before, they’re looking now. “I’ll thank you to stay out of this, we were just leaving-”

“No,” Martin replies in that preternaturally calm voice, still smiling. “You weren’t. Now let him go, and we can forget this all happened, hm?” He puts a hand on the arm that’s holding Jon and there’s real strength behind it. George tries to wrench his arm away but Martin’s got it in a solid grip and he barely manages a wiggle.

“Let go of me now, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Martin sounds bored. It is mystifying and Jon can do nothing but gape at the man. “You don’t want a scene, do you? Not in front of the family. Not again. So smile, and walk away.” There is a moment where Jon thinks they will come to blows but it passes. George manages to turn his scowl into a neutral expression, saving some dignity though he throws one last glare Jon’s way. “Not even worth it,” he mutters as he walks away. Jon leans against the bar, releasing a breath he did not realize he’d been holding.

“A-Are you alright, Jon?” Martin has a hand on his elbow but it’s okay now because it’s Martin and it feels right. His face has that same look he gets when he asks Jon whether he wants a cup of tea, or how he’s feeling or if he’s eaten that day. Worried, gentle.

“W-What was that?” is all Jon manages to get out, his voice in an embarrassingly high-pitch. Tim and Sasha are now making their way over with schooled expressions, though Jon can see the worry in their eyes. “Did you know that man? I-I mean, what the hell?” Jon realizes he’s sputtering and tries to get a handle on his swirling emotions. “N-Not that I’m not grateful, but good lord. ‘Not again?’”

Martin laughs, suddenly bashful. “I just guessed with that one, honestly. He looks like the type that’s thrown a fit or two, doesn’t he?” Tim and Sasha reach them and Martin is himself again, hunched over like he’s taking up too much space. This is the Martin that tiptoes around the archives, that’s always smiling and chattering about his day. Jon has never contemplated the man in much detail, but he is finding it hard to reconcile this new side of him. It’s not necessarily unwelcome.

“Alright there, boss?” Tim inquires, good-natured but anxious. “Was going to come over, pretend to be your boyfriend and all but Martin said that would be ‘demeaning’ or whatever.” Tim rolls his eyes at this.

“I don’t know, Martin seemed to diffuse the situation pretty well,” Sasha eyes him curiously. “What did you say?”

“N-Nothing, really-”

“He asked him to leave,” Jon says, finding his voice and unable to take his eyes off Martin. “And he left.”

“Damn, okay,” Tim gives an appreciative whistle before knocking back the rest of his drink. “Working that Mart-o magic, I guess. This party blows, let’s hit the bars. Night’s still young!”

Sasha cheers and Martin looks at him questioningly- he surprises himself by nodding in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go.” He studiously ignores Elias breaking off from his group of sycophants and heading their way. He watches as Martin straightens himself minutely, blocking Jon with his body as Tim ushers them out the door before they can get stopped by the man. Jon knows he will get a tongue-lashing out of this but he doesn’t care right now. He feels small in Martin’s shadow but it is a safe small, like a blanket wrapped around him on a chilly night.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Martin asks as Tim and Sasha chatter ahead of them, arguing over their destination. “We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to. I can take you home.”

I can take you home.

“I’m fine,” he says though he knows the situation hasn’t quite set in yet. “I’d rather not be alone, I-I think.” Martin nods and gives him a smile. It is almost charming, and Jon returns it. He doesn’t really want another drink but he needs a distraction, any distraction.

The night is cold and Martin is close, big and safe and warm. And if Jon leans into his side when they finally agree on a bar, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856373

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jon/martin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #timothy stoker #elias bouchard #sasha james #whumptober2020 #no.6 #stop please #fic #harassment cw #unwanted advances cw

201 notes · View notes

stardustanthem · 5 years ago

Text

red daisy inn | Geralt x Female reader | SMUT/ NSFW 18+

Description: Geralt is back from one of his adventures, quick to find you in the brothel you live in, just as he always does when he returns from killing monsters. This time though, it’s a bit different.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: let’s try some smut like 18+ !! oh and cuss words if you’re scared of those or what not

— • —

You pulled your clothing back over your body, fixing your hair as you adjusted on the bed. The man next to you settled into the bed beside you making no effort to move, which quite frankly pissed you off. He hadn’t even paid you, and he had forced you to keep busy for hours. He didn’t even have the damn equipment to keep you that long. He was just wasting your time, and now he was going to settle in and not pay you?

“Excuse me, sir, I’ll take what I’m owed now,” You speak confidently, rising to your feet. The man furrowed his brows with his eyes shut and draped an arm over his plump belly. You grimaced at the thought. You’d had many men, but lately you wished you could just see the one man that brought your meek and disappointing life a tinge of light. He hadn’t come to see you in months, and you almost wondered if he was even alive.

“I paid the brothel keeper. Your payment is with him,” The man grumbled. He rolled away from you onto his side and began snoring softly just as you thought to remark. You tied the hanging strings at the top of your loose fitting gown and grabbed your shawl trying to put it on you as neatly as possible for the next guest. You wanted to clear up the payment issue with Allard before pursuing more customers.

Storming down the steps in a hurry, your hair blowing behind you as you ran, you make it to the office at the front of the brothel just as Allard is locking up his office to leave for his upstairs apartment, “Allard! Allard please wait-”

“Good Gods, Y/N, what is it now? I’m headed home for the evening. Burne is outside of you’re having any altercations with your guest, now please.” You stumbled back as he pushed past you, nearly falling to the ground. You had managed to catch yourself.

The man in the room had kept you locked away to fuck, and fondle him for hours. Not to mention Allard probably didn’t even have a form of payment for you, and now Allard was leaving without listening to the issue at hand. For fucks sake, Burne wasn’t going to help, he slept out front half of the time. He wasn’t a guard, he was a sleeping giant that probably made more than you. Damn this place.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” A soft voice spoke from behind you, placing a hand on your upper back and smoothing your hair out of your face, “Were you hurt?”

You looked up into a pair of brown eyes, her face framed but wavy red hair and felt relief, “No, Freya. I’m not hurt. That fat bastard won’t pay me what I am owed, said he paid Allard. Well now Allard has left and I don’t know if I even have money waiting for me in that damn chancery.” You weren’t going to cry, but by gods you were exhausted from the whole ordeal.

As a fallen woman in the brothel community, you had practicallt no rights. You’d just been part of the room that man paid for, nothing more, and it would be setting you back at least a day to make up for the time you had wasted. Freya knew how hard it had been for you lately with Geralt not having come back yet. She was your best friend and confidant. You whispered into the early hours of the morning about the days you would no longer live here and be free to roam the lands and live amongst the continent with the finest royalty. These were fantasies, and they kept Freya going for sure, but if you had to be honest... you’d trade everything to go with Geralt on his leave.

As if your thoughts had manifested your desires, you suddenly heard the pounding of horse hooves coming toward the ‘Red Daisy Inn’, and suddenly your heart swelled. It could be anyone, it was always possible it couldn’t be him, but just as your doubts started to settle in you saw him in the doorway dimly lit by candle light.

He had new cuts on his face, one strikingly long from just above his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. His hair was an absolute mess, but he was just as handsome as you remembered. His eyes scanned the faces of the other girls among the hallway of the Inn until suddenly they landed on you. His eyes weren’t warm like they typically were, his leave had been much longer than it usually was, and by the animalistic darkness to his eyes you could tell it hadn’t been intentional.

You hadn’t even taken two steps forward before he had you scooped up into his arms, one hand at the back of your neck forcing you into the most hungry kiss he had ever given you. You tried to keep up with his assault but this was new to you, from him at least. You can’t deny you enjoyed it though, you felt your insides tingling with ecstasy at his mouth and it hadn’t even explored you yet.

He pulled away from you, shielding you into his chest as he turned to Freya, “My usual room, now,” he ordered at her staring down at her as she grabbed the key to the room at the top of the Inn from the key holder next to the door of Allards locked business room. He snatched it from her and threw you over his shoulder carrying you up the steps as quickly as his legs would carry him. He was ready to fuck the absolute hell out of you. He was practically foaming at the mouth in anticipation.

The door nearly broke off the hinges as he shoved it open. You fell to the bed as he dropped you, watching as he shut and locked the door behind him. Your body was in an absolutely overdrive of emotions. Your heart racing, your heat aching, but you were so excited to see the golden eyed hero. You reached for him, terrified that if he stayed near the door too long he might actually leave through it. You weren’t ready for that so soon. He was here, and you wanted to show him how much you missed him, just as he did you.

Geralt untied the strings on his pants and removed his shirt in the four short strides it took to get to the giant king sized bed in the middle of the room. Gawking wasn’t your typical behavior, but seeing his cock for the first time in months had you in a trance. He released a semi-audible growl and snapped his fingers at you, “My eyes are up here.” This in itself caused you to take your lower lip between your rows of teeth. You weren’t used to being this shy with him, but you just couldn’t help it. You wanted him, but you also wanted to bathe in your time together. You had missed him, terribly, but it was like a breath of fresh air to know he had missed you too.

The white wolf himself climbed onto the bed, on top of you, laying between your legs as he slipped your shawl out from under you and tossed it aside. You watched as he slowed his pace, untying the strings attached to the top of your gown. He pushed the opening in your gown on your chest open and pressed a gentle kiss there earning a whimper from you. Geralt felt himself hardening just from the sound itself. He wanted louder sounds from you, he craved them. His journey had been long, and he was going to have you in a puddle at his feet when he was done with you.

He sucked on the spot, making you release a sigh of content before he once again fell into his animal-like behavior. He nipped and groped every inch of free skin he could before yanking your gown over your head. He took in your bare figure before him. Nipples taught from the heat of the moment, legs wide open ready to take him in full stride, and the sheen of sweat across your body. He wanted to lick you clean.

So he did just that, starting with the mound between your legs. He placed gentle kisses from your knee to the center of your legs on both sides before dragging his wet tongue over your heat. You instinctively grabbed a fistful of his hair, arching your body into him as much as you could. This was the difference with Geralt. He made it about you just as much as it was about him. He sucked ever so slowly on your bundle of nerves, before slowly inserting a finger into your hole. He continued sucking as he slowly moved his fingers, making you more and more aroused by each stroke. If he could make you this happy with just his fingers and his mouth, imagine the rest.

He continued like this for what felt like forever, your stomach filling up with electricity and butterflies but just before you were pushed over the edge into oblivion, he pulled away from you. You stared up at him, knowing damn well he couldn’t take it any longer. He was ready to take you.

Geralt positioned his length at your entrance, glancing at you before slowly inching his way in. Your eyes rolled back slightly as your walls adjusted to the familiarity of it all and without warning he began aggressively pumping himself into you. He leaned down, biting your neck enough to cause slight pain but not enough to draw blood, grunting as he pounding his cock into you as quickly and as hard as he could.

The build up within your lower region was quick to burst as you screamed out his name in a state of euphoria. Geralt wasn’t finished with you though, just because he had made you cum once didn’t mean you couldn’t do it again, especially since he hadn’t. So he continued. He supported himself with one arm, removing his face from your neck as his amber eyes locked on yours. His free hand snuck its way down to your heat again, massaging as generously as he could the proximity of your bodies. You felt yourself building up again, Geralt’s intense gaze on you not helping in any way.

His amber eyes burned intensely into yours, stealing away to glance at your mouth before his mouth found yours again. You cupped his face in your hands, roughly kissing him in return just as you reached your second release, another moan pouring from your lips into his mouth. You could feel his cock twitch just as he bit your lip a little too harshly, drawing blood, he grunted heavily muttering a, “Fuck, Y/N,” before his movements stopped altogether. Like a gentleman, he moved to lay next to you, taking the time to catch his breath before helping you clean up.

You were speechless. Good Gods, say something. Anything, “I missed you an incredible amount, Geralt.” And just like that, your emotions came to a head and you find yourself sobbing quietly into his chest as he pulled you closer. The last few months had quite honestly been horrible, and Geralt being here now made you realize how awful they actually were.

Geralt caressed you softly, from the base of your neck to your lower back, one hand tangled in your hair. You’d never told him you had missed him before. This was new. It all felt so new, but it felt like the right thing to say. You felt him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as his lips touched your lobe, “And I, you.” His voice was rough, but deliciously so. He pressed a few gentle kisses to your neck before pulling away from you, “I’ll draw a bath. Does that sound alright to you, Y/N?”

You wiped at your eyes and nose before sitting up and nodding, not meeting his eyes. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead preparing a bath for the two of you as you let yourself be washed away in your thoughts, only to be brought to by Geralt scooping you out of bed and gently dropping you into the bath water. It was almost too hot, but with Geralt being who he was, you knew he had made the bath with himself in mind. As if on queue he settled into the giant bath across from you, leaning back against the side of the tub, “I’m sorry I was away so long.”

You voiced your fears finally to someone other than Freya and it felt relieving, “I thought you weren’t going to ever come back. I was scared you’d left me here to die.” You let yourself soak into the water, before moving closer to Geralt. His eyes remained closed as you quietly moved through the water.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you here,” he murmured sounding almost tired. Understandable as he had just traveled such a distance and fucked the lights out of you... but, unapologetically, you didn’t want him to sleep yet. You slowly reached toward him, your hand almost hovering over his Witcher medallion before he snatched your hand in midair, his head moving so his eyes could stare into yours, “It’s safer for you here.”

You stared at him, furrowing your brows before shaking your head and pulling your hand back, “The monsters you face out there are the monsters I face in here every day. My way of life isn’t that of a Witcher but I see monsters too, Geralt. I’m tired of being here,” you pushed his hand away and moved your body over his, straddling his naked lap, “I am tired of being away from you.”

His eyes softened, the fire place across the room coloring the pair of you a mixture of orange and yellow. He placed a hand on your cheek before pulling you into him again, this time your head on his chest, his legs extending for you to sit comfortably on his lap, “I won’t leave you here ever again. I swear on Roach.”

You smile at the last part, lifting your head from his chest as he searches over your face, memorizing your smile. You bite your lip gently before touching his lips with your fingertips, “On Roach, huh? Sure she’d kick you halfway to Temeria for saying such filthy things.”

Geralt smirks softly, moving to sit up, holding you on his lap still, “I can show you a filthy thing or two.” He grins and brings your face back to his, crashing his lips on yours before tickling your sides playfully. You scream and laugh at his behavior as the two of you fall into a playful banter of splashing each other with the bath water.

#the witcher x reader #geralt smut #henry cavill #witcher x reader #witcher smut #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #witcher imagine #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader

958 notes · View notes