#I would have struck first in all of those situations and I certainly wouldn't have not retaliated

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

Afjxkgdkg Jimmy is so patient in Double Life, I'm not even an angry or violent person but I would have punched at least five times as many people as he does

[the-archlich]

Suppose Yuan Shao took Zhang He's advice and decided to send proper reinforcements to Wuchao instead of the light cavalry force in OTL, would it have made any difference overall?

First let's look at SGZ 1 so we're all on the same page:

Winter, Tenth Moon [Oct 26 – Nov 23], [Yuán] Shào sent carriages to transport grain, sending Chúnyú Qióng and others, five men, to command troops of over ten thousand men to escort them, and they lodged for the night to [Yuán] Shào's camp's north by forty lǐ. [Yuán] Shào's strategic adviser Xǔ Yōu was greedy for wealth, [Yuán] Shào could not satisfy him, so he came fleeing, and therefore advised the Excellency to strike [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest. Those around were suspicious of this, but Xún Yōu and Jiǎ Xǔ urged the Excellency to go. The Excellency therefore left Cáo Hóng to defend, and personally commanded infantry and cavalry of five thousand men to go in the night. At dawn they arrived. [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest saw that the Excellency's troops were few, and went out and set up battle lines outside the gates. The Excellency hurriedly struck them, and [Chúnyú] Qióng retreated to protect the camp, [theExcellency] then attacked him. [Yuán] Shào sent cavalry to rescue [Chúnyú] Qióng. Of those around some said: "The rebel cavalry is drawing near, please divide troops to resist them." The Excellency angrily said: "When the rebels are at our backs, then report!" The soldiers all to the death battled, greatly defeated [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest, and beheaded them all. [Yuán] Shào had previously heard the Excellency's strike against [Chúnyú] Qióng, and said to his eldest son [Yuán] Tán: "While they attack [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest, I will attack and capture their camp, and they will have nowhere to return!" Therefore he sent Zhāng Hé and Gāo Lǎn to attack Cáo Hóng. [Zhāng] Hé and the rest heard [Chúnyú] Qióng had been defeated, and therefore came to surrender.

Add to this SGZ 17.4

Tàizǔ with Yuán Shào mutually resisted at Guāndù, Shào sent officers Chúnyú Qióng and others to command transports garrisoning Wūcháo, Tàizǔ personally commanded an urgent strike against it. Hé advised [Yuán] Shào saying: “Excellency Cáo’s troops are elite, going he will certainly defeat [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest; [if Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest are defeated, then General your affairs will be lost; it is appropriate to urgently draw troops to rescue them.” Guō Tú said: “Hé’s plan is wrong. It is not as good as attacking their base camp, in that situation they will certainly return, this is to without rescuing have itself resolve.” Hé said: “Excellency Cáo’s camp is firm, attacking it, it will certainly not be taken, if [Chúnyú] Qióng and the rest meet with capture, we subordinates will completely become prisoners.” [Yuán] Shào only sent light cavalry to rescue [Chúnyú] Qióng, and with heavy troops attacked Tàizǔ’s camp, [but] could not take it.

Now that we're all caught up:

I think a larger force probably would have arrived too late to save the depot. If we remove the tint of embellishment from SGZ 1's account, what we get is a hard-fought battle at Wuchao, which Cao Cao only won when Yuan Shao's cavalry was very close. Obviously they couldn't have been literally at their backs since Cao Cao had time to kill Chunyu Qiong and burn the depot. While the impending arrival of Yuan Shao's cavalry helped motivate Cao Cao's troops that last part of the fight, it wouldn't have made much of a difference if they didn't already have the upper hand. A larger force would have been slower, especially comparing foot to cavalry.

There's reason here to question the framing of the whole account. Taking a step back, what we see here is Cao Cao leading a strike force against Wuchao, which puts up stiff but temporary resistance. Yuan Shao hears of this and sends a light cavalry force to relieve the depot while the bulk of his army assaults the main camp in the commander's absence.

That's not a bad plan. That's a very good plan. Under other circumstances it would have been the right move.

The trouble is that both prongs failed. Wuchao fell before the cavalry could join battle, so instead of trapping Cao Cao between them, they were left watching the depot burn. Meanwhile the main force also found no success, so when the soldiers heard there was no more food, they did as anyone would.

All of this is framed as a series of tactical blunders, but we must keep in mind the particulars of the men who wrote those records. Some were Yuan Shao's enemies. Some were his former subordinates who had a vested interest in making their loyalty to their new master clear. They were not necessarily dishonest, about any significant details, but one must keep their perspective in mind.

[xenon-demon]

cruel and unusual to make me pick between when you come back, it's gravity (kas!steve au) and boathouse wall slam 2: roleplay boogaloo so i simply shan't please tell me about both.

[also don't worry i also didn't make my wip wednesday word count bc apparently grieving makes it hard to function. or something. (but also sometimes life just Happens. it's fandom, no one's paying us for this shit 💜)]

Read you're amazing and I appreciate you so much <3 You are more than welcome to ask me about as many things as you'd like!!

[also thank you very much for the kind words & reminder not to take fandom shit so seriously it becomes stressful itself 💙 I hope you're doing a bit better now (since it's been a hot second since you sent this ask), life really does just fucking suck sometimes, huh?]

Paging @sidekick-hero who also asked me about boathouse wall slam; seeing as both of you asked about the same two fics, I'll use this ask to talk about boathouse wall slam and the other one to talk about gravity!

boathouse wall slam 2: roleplay boogaloo

Okay first of all this DOES actually have a title - strange love (won’t you give it to me?) - but I love the placeholder meme title way too much to change the file name. There's also about 2.5k words written in this document, but many of those words are Horny and thus I do not feel comfortable sharing them lmao

Also my "can't shut the fuck up" disease struck again SO this is going under a cut (which is also probably not a bad thing considering I'm talking about sex lmao)

AS THE MEME TITLE IMPLIES this is about Steve having Many Thoughts about Eddie shoving him up against the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse, to the point where he eventually caves and asks Eddie (his boyfriend of ~2 months, after about that much time again of fooling around together as friends) if he’d be willing to re-enact that moment with him. But this time they won’t have an audience. Because it's a sex roleplay. The surface level concept for this fic is just a smutty pwp revolving around re-enacting The Wall Slam™, because neither Steve nor the audience were being normal about that when it happened. The roleplay set-up was going to be something like Eddie just chilling and smoking out in the boathouse undisturbed (because Reefer Rick skipped town after Vecna was defeated, so the place is now unoccupied), Steve "accidentally" stumbling across him, Eddie thinking "oho the popular jock is here to beat me up, I'd better make the first move before he can" and throwing Steve up against a wall only to find Steve Really Likes Being Manhandled, and he's suggesting they maybe have a little fun with each other instead? (This part would not require much acting from Steve.) The roleplay aspect of it is basically them reaching back for their high school personas and acting as if they'd gotten into this situation with each other whilst still in school, before they became friends and certainly before they had any history together.

The original version I started (and got 2.5k words into before realising I wouldn't feel comfy posting it anywhere lol) was written... around this time last year? Like 10-12 months ago? And so it was very much coloured by the prevailing Fandom Opinions & Content™ at the time, aka this was a sub!bottom!Steve and dom!top!Eddie affair (with that being the Prevailing Pattern of their relationship thus far in the fic). I wasn't writing them as having an Official Established Dynamic™, I was just writing it as Steve having an inherent tendency to be submissive/give up control to Eddie during sex. Steve's nerves around asking Eddie about this particular fantasy are just due to Steve being nervous to ask for what he wants; he's not worried at all about asking Eddie to be a bit rough/dominant with him because really, They Do That Anyway.

While I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with approaching this concept (or Steddie!) like that, and I'll still read pretty much any flavour of Steddie (ultimately I think they're switches/vers, and also I don't care that much about who's in what position as long as they're in character), the way I view them & their dynamic has definitely changed since I came up with this concept. THEREFORE, here is how I would approach it if I were to write this as a oneshot now:

They're still newly dating at the start of the fic (only a month or two in), except the prevailing pattern of the relationship so far is service top/soft dom!Steve & bottom/ever so slightly sub!Eddie. This is mainly because a) that's what they're used to from previous partners, and b) Steve's got some Issues around giving up control in bed/feeling like he's not doing enough to please his partner (aka "I must prove my worth sexually or else they'll lose interest in me").

Steve has, however, been plagued with visions of Eddie throwing him around the boathouse like he was a small twig, and he is very quickly losing his sanity about it. Eddie could absolutely manhandle Steve the way Steve manhandles Eddie, if he wanted to. If Steve let him.

After a couple months of dating Eddie, Eddie can tell something's up, so he asks about it. Steve cracks like an egg the moment Eddie asks, confessing he keeps thinking about The Wall Slam. Eddie - who has already sniffed out Steve's issues around being Enough and Worthy for his partner - asks if he'd like them to recreate that moment. Steve agrees (while blushing so red he looks like a tomato).

CUE THE ROLEPLAY SMUT. This proceeds pretty much the same as the original version, complete with sub!bottom!Steve & dom!top!Eddie, but this version of Eddie is a much softer dom & this Steve takes a bit longer to really get into the swing of things. After the smut they have a cute little heart-to-heart about how Eddie's not going to leave Steve just because he wants a turn being looked after for once, and that Steve is going to make more of an effort to prioritise his own wants and needs sometimes.

Essentially, were I to write this now, I'd make it a smutfic character study of Steve & how he has issues around being vulnerable and letting Eddie take care of him, instead of him taking care of Eddie all the time. You know how it is, you go to write porn and it ends up growing legs and also a deep emotional core about the relationship between characters and their psychological issues.

Send me an ask about my WIPs!

[sharonisthebettercarter]

no hate but i don’t think madelyn was actually written to be romantically interested in or even really attracted to homelander. she definitely groomed him and would actively take advantage of his vulnerability which still really doesn’t make her any better but yk

i get what you're sayin' sweetheart... don't worry, i'm not gonna blow up on you, you were polite and for that at least i can thank you<3

it's up to interpretation and i think most in fandom actually see it this way too, but for me?

ultimately, i don't think it matters cause she still fucked him up pretty bad.

to a degree, i actually think this makes it worse (albeit a different kind of worse... but certainly not any better for sure) because it would mean that she was consciously aware that she was manipulating and leading on a child and didn't actually care or give a shit about him as *a child*, or even want him as an adult.

grooming him was just a means to an end and there was no pedophilic disorder (yes this is a real thing, not all people with it are actual predators that harm anyone and they can get treated for it before they harm anyone just the same, altho research to help has unfortunately been minimal) of any kind to attribute her actions to. which probably means that in the end...

she didn't see him as human either. just as a weapon or tool or an animal to use as she saw fit and that's... that's um... it's a lot.

honestly the whole situation with madelyn made me super uncomfortable watching and later thinking back on it, i know the ship is great for some and they should be allowed to explore that to the heart's content, have at it y'all.

but it's super triggering for me and i just... i can't.

if i'm honest, it really makes me wanna cry or vomit or somethimes both. it is one of the darkest things that happens to homelander, and i feel like *the* thing that is most likely to be dismissed in fandom, *especially* by some of those that proudly proclaim to love him.

i would even wager it's possible that *this* particular trauma that stillwell gave him is *exactly* the trauma that stunted his growth. i think he's *stuck* at the specific age he met *madelyn* and started interacting with her as his attachment to her even after he killed her was...

and that could mean a number of things, including the possibility that *a lot* more happened than we actually know about (and i would not at all be surprised if they confirmed this later as it would explain... well, let's just say it'd bridge a few more things)

lots of people think their relationship went the furthest it had ever gone at the end of the first season, and that it's mostly just *homelander* being attached and weird, but his *attachment* always struck me as way *way* deeper and traumatic than that, and that mindset has always felt a very dismissive to me. i don't know if i believe that and i wouldn't be surprised if the story proved otherwise eventually.

also anon... you made me sad and now i'm sad :(((((((((((((((((((((((( if at least a bit calmer with my blood pressure gone down, so again thanks for being poiite ;) still sad tho :(((((((((((((

[suzumenoken]

Genji Shimada Relationships/Intimacy Headcanons

Levels of intimacy for shipping/relationship purposes as headcannoned by me.

Under the cut, cause just like my Hanzo, I go into detail, but even more so here with Genji since I write him in varying points of his life. Admittedly its really complex and situational, so brace yourself, this gets long!

All SFW, angst and fluff included!

Sexuality: I HC him straight. He's definitely been experimental a bit in his past, though.

Young Genji:

Theme song: Death of a Strawberry - Dance Gavin Dance

Lvl 1) Someone's interested in him? Well, it's not the first time and certainly not the last. He's on a high horse and doesn't really filter his words and actions. He plays the fuckboy card damn well, it's all anyone sees when he's outside the walls of his estate. It will be no different towards someone who's actively trying to pursue him at first. They'll have to catch his attention for reasons other than the bullshit he's actively involved in. He'll just assume they're the same as everyone else if they show more interest in the delinquency/partying and his family name/history than him personally.

Lvl 2) They caught his attention by consistently showing interest in him, and just him. It likely won't be terribly pleasant for the pursuer because of his cheeky quips as he catches on, cause he does, and quickly, (or maybe they're into that, who knows) but persistence is an eye catcher. He'll be more inclined to talk to them.

Lvl 3) He's seeking them out specifically to talk to, hang out with and bother, trying to pull at their strings. He's pulling a bunch of tricks out his sleeve with a playful attitude to keep them on him. He'll slow down on certain activities, not holding as much of an interest in those things anymore as he does in the other person, now holding a bit of hope for the possibilities. Yet, that hope now grows with fear. He still holds his façade very strongly and struggles to be truly vulnerable. He'll need something to break him out of it/give him confidence that it's ok to show himself.

Lvl 3.5) A confession wouldn't really phase him, per-se, since he's been confessed to before, but as long as genuine time and effort has been given up front, he'll be more receptive, yet still clinging to his mask and won't put it down for just anyone. It'll either have to be forced off him or guided off. Depending on which path the other chooses to take with him, he'll respond accordingly, and this is either a dead end, or the start of something pretty wild. (Or it could already have been, he's a bit of a thrill seeker, so there you go.)

Lvl 4) So, he accepted their confession. Returned it, even. Whether he asks or they do, now he's giving it a shot. There's a crack in the front he's put on for so long, and out of it seeps heaps of genuine passion. He hasn't given up all of his habits, though, and still smokes (primarily), drinks (not as much), etc. Whether or not this is an issue to his s/o is interchangeable and he will accommodate where he can for them. They're something truly different and he slowly grows more attached with each day that passes.

Lvl 5) He's attentive, protective (very, considering his occupation) and god does he know how to love. He keeps disappearing from his home when he's not worked to the bone training or has to do anything for clan purposes to see his s/o, basically living a double life. That is until the canon event happens where he fights his brother and is struck down by him.

Note: if the s/o truly knows the extent of his family history and business, if their relationship is secret or not and more is up to the plot lines.

Blackwatch Genji:

Theme song: WANNA DIE - n9neful & WHYTYLXR (Lyrics)

To be completely honest with you, he's not interested in a relationship at this point in his life. He'd be thrown off and even upset at anyone showing romantic interest in him when he's like this, and genuinely would wish better for them. He's got too much on his mind and is violently angry. He's really not going to be able to be pulled out of that right now, but they're welcome to try.

In the case it's an old flame/the person he was with before he became a cyborg, they won't know who he is instantly. He will try to keep it that way. If they do find out, he'll fight tooth and nail to keep them out of his life beyond anything that's necessary for several obvious reasons.

Note: Whether or not he recognizes its the old flame/partner is also up to plot.

Current Genji:

Theme song: Sunset Memories - Tales of the Forgotten

Lvl 1) He doesn't really pay attention to anyone but his direct circle in Overwatch, so getting his attention is a little tough unless he's worked with directly. Also, if it's a verse based in canon, he's interested in Mercy, so any feelings would be unrequited, anyhow. However, in a verse where that's not the case, it'll definitely start with him not being interested in anyone. A friendship would have to build first, so obviously the interested party would need to introduce themselves somehow.

Lvl 2) Now he at least knows who they are, they're talking here and there, maybe they're a fellow agent and go on missions with him, it's purely business related. He's kind. Quiet. Sweet. The best way to appeal to him is to share his calm, and if they respond well, he will in return.

Lvl 3) The peace he begins to feel with the other grows to friendship. He appreciates their presence and keeps in contact. Nothing romantic, purely platonic. As friendship grows and time passes, the closer they get, the more attentive he becomes to them.

Lvl 3.5) They confess. He's known. If things have gone well up to this point, it's possible he has thought about it at least a little, himself, and isn't against it. If nothing has sparked at this point beyond the friendship, he'll keep it where it is and it will not progress. However if they did click, he will admit he is open to the opportunity if they are.

Lvl 4) He's got them & they've got him. Adding more romantic actions to their relationship, he's always near by when he can be. He's their support. Their protector. Their lover. He trusts them with his mask off, with his life, and will often show any physical affection he can as long as they're ok with it. He's not an incredibly jealous person, but will make it known just who he is if necessary.

Overall, in order:

Quality Time - (time spent in silence, in noise, anywhere, he wants to be there with them.)

Physical Touch - (even though he can only feel it on certain parts of his person like his face and anywhere the armor melds with his skin, he craves that because it reminds him he's still human.)

Gift giving - (he adores making them smile and wants to spoil them now and again.)

Words of affirmation - (voiced affection is important to hear, though he'll always place what's shown over what's said.)

Acts of service - (he never expects much to be done for him since he can very much handle himself, but it absolutely warms his heart when it is done.)

[justasimplesinner]

This one is based on my current situation. Origins Eddie is interested in a coworker (most likely in the same department as him) but is too shy to say anything so they're just friends. However, his crush starts getting unwanted advances from another coworker. Nothing extreme but definitely bothersome and a little stressful for this crush. So how would Origins Eddie react? (Hopefully he finally admits his feelings lol)

currently on riddler brainrot and im sorry in advance for anyone subjected to all the bullshit im about to post today

Arkham Origins!Eddie being a massive simp hcs:

there wasn't many people in the GCPD that he truly got along with, even in his own department (although those guys were certainly more used to him and less phased by anything he said). when you came along to work there, it wasn't love at first sight, he didn't immediately take a liking to you, and the feeling was certainly mutual. he's kind of a dick. can be hella obnoxious and self-centered and if you'd just let him, he'd probably go on some egomaniac tangent, although he's not as far gone as he is in the later games so you can still kind of talk to him

i wouldn't say you two wanted to tear each other apart every time you saw one another, but you certainly had a very love/hate relationship at first. it took a long while for him to see you as something more than just a rookie and as much as you hated to admit it, you strived to prove him wrong. not so much as gaining his approval, just kicking his ass because he was being such a pain in yours. thankfully not all your coworkers were dicks, so you got a lot of reassurance whenever he verbally tore you down, but that didn't mean you gave up on proving him wrong

Ed would never admit it out loud, but he admired your determination. actually, there were quite a few things he admired about you. the passion, the drive for work, how you'd stay after hours just to make sure you had everything right, how you seemed to genuinely want to help those people out there. and your sharp tongue, too. especially your sharp tongue. it may have not seem like it, but he absolutely loved bantering with you. you were always so quick with the insults, having a rebuttal to everything he threw your way. and, as opposed to him, the thing with you was that you made sure not to go overboard with what you said and if you did, you weren't above admitting that it was a dick move and apologising

that's what really got you two a little closer in the first place. it was another amazing confrontation that had everyone else in your department on the edge of their seats to see who admits defeat first, when you took it a step too far. and you immediately knew that, right after the words came out of your mouth

"i'm going to fuck your dad and give him a child he actually loves"

silly, right? just a random insult, that's it. he was being a dick, he deserved it. and obviously you didn't truly mean it. but those words stung. hard. you've never seen him shut up so fast. for a second, you swore his face twisted in something akin to agony. just as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and he turned right back to his work. but he was silent. Ed would never willingly let you have the last word in. and yet, for the rest of the day, he was silent

maybe you shouldn't've, but you felt bad. you could see you struck a nerve, prodded at a topic way too sensitive for it all to still be called lighthearted banter. of course, at first, you were too stubborn to really apologize, but all it took was some shameful and regretful thoughts as you were driving home that day and you decided to just suck it up and apologize. fuck your pride, maybe you hated his guts but you didn't want him to hurt. besides, if he gave you the silent treatment like that, who would entertain you when you were bored at work?

you squeezed his coffee order out of one of your coworkers that usually went on the coffee shop trip, even bought him a stupid little peanut-chocolate bar in green wrapping as you arrived at your workplace at the asscrack of dawn like he always did. motherfucker always came in first when it comes to your department, and you wanted to catch him alone, without any prying eyes. when you came in, he didn't even greet you with something like "look who decided to be on time for once" which sucked since you hoped he'd be in a better mood that day

you didn't have a whole speech prepared, which you kind of regretted now that you were face to face with him, alone, and had to apologize truly from the bottom of your heart.

"i'm sorry for what i said yesterday. here. as compensation." quick, simple, and to the point. but that was never the way things go with Edward fucking Nashton. "this is your bargaining chip? you couldn't convince a five year old to sit still for one minute with this shit-" "listen here, you little shit, this is the only green candybar i could find in the store, so shut your green-loving mouth up and let me do my thing, arlight? i don't want to be dramatic right now, but i really am sorry. i didn't mean to actually say anything hurtful or prod at a sore spot or anything. it doesn't change anything right now, but if i had known, i wouldn't've said that. so just accept this very modest but very heartfelt bribe and stop giving me the silent treatment. i got a taste of what's it like yesterday, and i'm not about to endure it today, because your stupid little banter is genuinely the best part of my workday here and i'm not giving it up without a fight."

that seemed to do the trick, because with a few mutters about how crude and utterly untactful you were came the acceptance of you apology, even the admittance that you weren't the only one looking forward to those silly little fights you two indulged in. that was the first step. but, what was shocking to the rest of the department, you two didn't continue in baby steps. you broke off into a run

it escalated quick. with you breaking the ice between you two came the initially-reluctant, eventually-desired friendship. the banters still continued, but Edward wasn't as hard on you when it came to your work as he used to. suddenly, breaks were filled with genuine conversation over hot cups of coffee. Ed wasn't a regular person, talking about your day or the weather simply didn't satisfy him and he found it meaningless. instead, whenever you two talked, he'd breach the most random fucking subjects but you quickly got used to it. you were probably the only one who could put up with him for more than ten minutes (the weeks of insulting each other made you immune to his sarcastic quips) and that didn't bat an eye if he just started rambling about something completely out of nowhere

you became someone he intentionally seeked out, which is a big thing. he often told you otherwise just to fuck with you, but he liked talking to you. you were unphased by how quickly he could jump from one subject to another or for how long he could go on and on about something. you always listened. you offered your input. you were always up for a debate. and fuck yeah sometimes you were stubborn about something you didn't understand, but if he actually proved to you that you were wrong, you'd take the blow and move on. despite being a very persistent and loud-mouthed person, you never insisted on always being right or getting mad at him for knowing something you didn't. if you saw that you really were in the wrong, you accepted it and even inquired about more so you could educate yourself on the subject. sometimes he thought you were so knowledge-hungry because you wanted to be ready for any possible argument that might ensue between you and someone else and needed to be the expert so you could tear a bitch into the ground. and yeah, it was funny, but it was also, in a way, admirable

it was no surprise to anyone when your banter turned more flirtarious. after all, you two were practically attached at the hip at this point. the thing was, you didn't take it seriously. at first, he thought he didn't too, but boy was he wrong

and so, the pining started. all day every day, Edward was consumed by yearning. there was nothing he loved more than the two of you constantly trying to one-up each other and make the other blush and stutter uncontrollably, there was nothing he loved more than hanging out with you both at and outside work, nothing he loved more than just doing simple, menial stuff with you like playing videogames or getting lunch. on one hand he really wanted to tell you all this - you, the only person to ever give him so much positive attention and show him any form of genuine care for his well-being - but on the other... what if you didn't feel the same? i mean, you obviously didn't. you would've said something already, right? you were always so straightforward. did you see that he wanted more? were you just trying to let him down gently or were you oblivious? there was too many thoughts, too many doubts and unfortunately, those were the ones even your presence couldn't help him with

there's nothing worse for a man than to find out he has powerful competition, and Edward is no different in that particular aspect. of course, he's way better and he spends more time with you and you obviously think higher of him than of the other guy, but... do you smile so much around him too? when you two banter, you're always playful, but you never grin the way you grin with the officer that took a liking to you. you never take on that tone with him, the one that's toeing the line between incredibly condescending and abnormally sultry. was he being replaced, was his rightfully earned position as your best friend endangered?

there's a lot of doubts in his head, but also the sick need for rivalry, to destroy his competition. that man was interfering a little bit too much to Ed's liking and he make it a point to show it every time he comes into the Cybercrime department, every time he tags along in the breakroom, every time he gets close to you when Edward's already there. he has half the mind to just rope that motherfucker into some sketchy shit to get him out of his hair

he makes it a point to spend even more time with you to show the other dude who's the better one. you're suspicious but absolutely not complaining about all the sudden game nights or movie marathons or quick trips to the burger joint. you're not complaining about the way Ed trails behind you like a puppy everywhere you go and the way he has deep conversations with you more and more. you feel like what you two have is finally progressing, and your heart flutters every time you wake up at his place, your head on his shoulder or his in your lap after watching gameshow reruns all night. you feel your stomach absolutely exploding in butterflies at every domestic little thing happening between you two, even as simple as cooking breakfast or going out for a smoke

but there's tension rising between you two, something just waiting to be snapped. it's clear to everyone but you what's going on between your two "suitors" and how Ed's constantly on his toes. a few of your coworkers had half the mind to interfere and end this madness but they decided you two better solve all this out on your own

and you did. you did solve it out.

You were at his place again. At this point, you could say you slept over more than you didn't. Hell, you've already had your own drawer and shelf in the shower! It was as much your apartment as it was his. Not that you were complaining, of course. You could really see why some of your more nosey coworkers joked about you two already being married. I mean, c'mon, eating chinese take-out on his old couch, watching the Family Feud marathon up until midnight? It's like the definition of "Married Couple ActivitiesTM".

And this... this really was home for you. This stained couch, his sweatshirt hanging loosely from your frame, his constant talking about how some people were just plain-out stupid because how could they not know that? This is where you felt like you truly belonged. Cliche much, but it was true. It's like everything was in it's rightful spot, your back leaning on his side, your whole form being shaken with his movements as he got a little bit too emotional about a fucking gameshow, his smell surrounding you from every side, his arm wrapped around your collarbone to keep himself grounded. Everything was just right, and you felt happy. Content with how things were. Not quite perfect, but just enough.

Until your phone rang with a new message, disrupting the half-peace around you and startling you half to death. You were so used to having it on silent that when it suddenly beeped and vibrated against your stomach, you almost jumped out of your skin, nearly knocking your leftover food from your lap.

– Fuckin' hell. – you breathed out under your nose, holding up the take-out box to reach into the hoodie's pocket and retrieve the offending object. Ed gave no reaction, really, outside of automatically taking the food from you and putting it on the table, relaxing right back into the couch, his other arm still securely around you. God, why were his hands always so cold? And the bastard made it his mission to put them on your bare skin any chance he got. It was like having an icicle laying against your neck and shoulder.

You took a glance at your notifs to see who was interrupting this fine evening, when you felt a chuckle rippling out of your throat at seeing the contact ID. That man was absolutely insatiable. You're pretty sure he could compete with Edward on who's more persistent.

– And who's got you smiling like an idiot at your phone? – you could practically feel Ed's words crawling up your spine, you felt the vibrations travel through his body into yours. You didn't have to turn your head to know he was looking over your shoulder, this nosey fuck.

– It's just Rhodney. – you felt his muscles tense up, his head getting almost cheek to cheek with you to read the texts. You let him, not like there was anything to hide there.

– And what does he want that's so important he had to interrupt the show? – he muttered with an air of disdain, his breath whipping right past your cheek. You always found it funny how he reacted to anything even slightly related to Rhodney. Their hate for each other was clear, what with how they always seemed to hiss at one another like angry cats.

You leaned back into him a little more, crossing your legs over the armrests and forcing him to relax a little into the couch.

– Apparently a dinner tomorrow at seven. – you snorted, fingers hovering over your keyboard. Maybe if you paid more attention, you would've heard his breath hitch. – He's outdoing himself lately. At first, it was just a coffee date in some nook cafe. I've turned this into a little game - every time he asks me out, I make a ridiculous excuse as to why I can't go to see when will he finally get the hint. – you rambled on, clear amusement seeping into your voice as you spared a glance back at him. His eyes betrayed the little war going on in his head whether he should be disappointed or amused at your antics. You've never seen anyone with eyes so expressive as his. Looking into those baby blues could really make you believe eyes were the window to one's soul.

– Why not just tell him you don't want to so he pisses off? – was what he finally decided on. His voice was weirdly tense, like he was clenching his jaw or having trouble to even get the words out. It was completely out of character for him to have problems to say what's on his mind.

– It's more fun this way. – you decided to let it slide, instead opting to shrug off his inquiry and smirk under your nose as you looked back to your phone – What do you think I should tell him this time? Maybe... 'I need to watch my neighbours pet fish because he has separation anxiety'? – you chuckled, ready to type out your another incredible idea until you felt the arm on your collarbone tighten and his body shift under your back.

Suddenly, there was a hand holding the side of your head firmly.

– Maybe tell him this.

Before you had time to react, you could feel his mouth positively crashing against yours as he leaned over your form to gain better access. You could feel his heavy, trembling exhale hitting your face and his hand clenching in the fabric of the sweatshirt he gave you. But most importantly, you could feel his insistent, slightly chapped lips right against your own.

It took a while to register. Just that second too long to let doubts flood his brains at his impulsive decision, to make his fingers desperately squeeze tighter as he started to lean back, to probably spill his apologies, to drown in his self-loathing in humiliation but then your hands shot out to grab at his sweater and pull him right back in.

Fuck no, you've wanted this way too long for him to jut pull away. You've wanted to run your hands up his chest, to cup his face, to bite his lip and tangle your fingers in his hair, to-

He sat back gasping, having left you just as breathless, staring right into your eyes that still haven't fully gotten rid of the surprise you felt. None of you made a move to really pull back from each other, your fingers still tangled in his now-messy hair, his arms circling you safely, your breaths mingling with each other.

– Yeah, this one will get the point across. – you breathed out, still staring at him in bewilderment, wanting him to say something, anything about whatever the fuck just happened.

What you got instead was a slim but strong hand cupping the side of your neck and jaw, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered, right before frantically diving back in for seconds:

– It better.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Whumptober Day 8 - Pneumothorax

There were plenty of things to hate about his job. His slowly deteriorating mental health would certainly rank near the top of the list, not to mention the wear and tear on his body. Of it all, the constant threat of death had to be at the top, especially with it being responsible for everything else. It led to situations like being flung across a rooftop into a pillar by a massive B.O.W., then through glass paneling that nearly ended in a long fall. There was enough fuel in those few seconds for a number of nightmares that would surely haunt him for a few weeks.

He should have known that things would get worse for him because that's how it always went in these situations. The tight grip of enormous fingers wrapped around his entire torso slowly squeezed his body. His bones cracked from the pressure-first his arm forced out of socket, then the ripple of ribs giving out. Wriggling might have been an option if he had some way of momentarily loosening the fingers around him. At this point, all it would accomplish is getting him crushed faster.

It got to the point he was sure his organs would start bursting when a gunshot filled the air and fingers loosened in surprise. The suddenness of it left him without enough time to ease his fall, leading to a burst of pain along his left side. Despite being hardly able to breathe, he pushed his body into a full sprint to his abandoned motorcycle. Somehow, most likely the adrenaline, he managed to send it flying over the side of the building right into the B.O.W. without going over with it.

From his spot lying on the roof, he stared up into the night sky as he struggled to get air back in his lungs. No matter what he did, every pull of air left him wheezing and struggling to draw in more as his chest flared with pain. Despite wanting to stay there, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled the first few steps in Chris and Rebecca's direction. Even though it wouldn't help much, the pain from his dislocated shoulder lessened when he pinned it against his side.

Upon noticing him, Rebecca gave a tired smile that he tried and failed miserably to return. Her eyebrows wrinkled up as she used Chris's help to get to her feet and move the short distance between them. At the first curious poke, the instinctive jerk away from her fingers nearly forced him to his knees from the blinding pain. His ragged breathing intensified, causing black spots to dot his vision and the world to swirl around him.

Time lost all meaning as all of his faculties went to doing whatever he could to keep breathing-to desperately staying alive. He was vaguely aware of people talking and his body moving and the world around him changing, but it was all meaningless. All he wanted was the pain to stop and to be able to breathe normally again.

At some point, he must have blacked out because the sensation of waking up struck him like the snap of fingers. His body jerked in response, causing an unexpected pain from his elbow, which turned out to be from the needle of an IV. That explained the lack of pain from his recently dislocated shoulder and broken ribs, but not the BSAA Captain sitting in a chair his bulky frame barely fit. His chin rested against his chest at an angle that would definitely put a crick in his neck if it hadn't already.

Attempting to speak led to a strained noise from his dry throat, which he abandoned in favor of reaching out an uncoordinated hand to smack Chris. The result of it was a jolt that almost sent the chair flying back as Chris snapped up to his feet with alert eyes. Tension turned to concern when Chris registered the reason for his sudden awakening.

“You're finally awake. Water?” While it took a monumental amount of effort, he managed to nod his head, then let out a sigh of relief when Chris did all the work. “Is that better?”

“Yeah. Where am I?”

“Our headquarters. One of your broken ribs punctured your lung and it collapsed. They fixed you up, but you'll need time to heal.”

“So much for a relaxing vacation.”

“I'll pay for your next vacation?”

“Turn that into a statement and you're on your way to making it up to me.”

Chris chuckled under his breath as he returned to his chair with a hand rubbing against his neck. “Are you going to make me a list?”

“What else am I going to do while I'm stuck in here because you dragged me away from my vacation to get flung around and crushed by B.O.W.s? Plenty of time to think and research and come up with a list.”

“How hard is my bank account going to cry when I get it?”

“We'll see. It's been a while since I've been to Europe.”

“Ouch.”

“You only have yourself to blame.” With a sigh, he resettled in the sea of pillows surrounding him and fought back the urge to fall asleep. “How is Rebecca doing?”

“Still a little shaken, but her cure worked. It saved a lot of people. She's getting some much-deserved rest.”

“That's good. I know how much getting infected can take it out of you. You should pay for her to take a vacation, too.”

“I didn't drag her into this.”

“It's the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Is that so?”

“Are you questioning me? I'm stuck in a hospital bed with a punctured lung because of you.”

Chris fondly rolled his eye and failed at trying to hold back a smile that gave away just how amused he was. “They patched up your lung.”

“I forgot that makes the pain go away.”

“How long are you going to milk this for?”

“Until it stops working.”

“Good to know what I have to look forward to.” A beeping from his pocket brought a groan from Chris that grew heavier when he checked his phone. “I've got to give my report on what happened. I'll be back to check on you later.”

“You don't need to do that. There's plenty of qualified people to keep an eye on me.”

“There are, and I'll let one of them know you're awake now, so they can check on you. I'll be back later.”

“Don't wake me up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of here. You don't want to be late. You'll ruin your golden boy status.”

“For your information, I'm already late. Don't give the nurses a hard time.”

As the door clicked shut behind Chris, Leon finally gave into the desire to let his eyes slip shut even though he knew someone would come to check on him soon. “He better come back with something better than hospital food and a change of clothes.”

[theredsuzuran]

Muzan x reader ~ Lily [pt 2]

Took me forever to complete this song fanfiction, wouldn't have been possible if my friend didn't help, thanks to him. Please check out the first part to understand it better. Here.

Warning : abusive themes, mention of blood and gore.

Enjoy

She knew she was hypnotized.

The sound of a loud slap echoed throughout the room, your father who was furious about your escape have just hit you hard on your face infront of everyone, including the servants. On other hand your mother holding your father's arm tightly to prevent him from hitting you any further.

"Get away, you callous women, it is for you that she tried to run away, you should be ashamed of yourself", he shouted, shoving off your mother roughly onto the tatami floor.

"This is wrong, the Gods will punish us", she murmured under her breath making muffle sounds, your father dissatisfied by her futile attempts of protests turns his attention away from you to hit her right in the stomach with his bare fist in pure fury, making her scream in agony coughing out mucus. Your mother being a fragile women of timid personality, rarely talked to anyone let alone protest or stand up against vile play, always seen behind the shoji doors praying to the gods and chanting prayers, constantly intimidated. Witnessing your father abusing her inhumanely infront of her children, family members as well as the servants, evoked a sense of rebellion inside of you.

"Don't hit my mother, you are angry because of me hit me instead, as much as you like, but not her", you growled furiously at your father, making your mother jolt towards your direction as she shook her head violently.

"Stay away from this brat", he said apatheticly, disappointment hinted in his voice turning his head away from you once again in utter disgust. Receiving such cold treatments from your father made your heart shattered in pieces. Then, your uncle step up.

"Take her to the room and increase the guards, this shall not happen again", your father ordered the servants which was immediately followed without any hesitation or delay before you could protest you were taken away. However you wonder why did your mother reacted that way?

__

As the time passed by, you grew up to be an elegant lady mostly within the confinement of four walls, while pushing down all the jovial moments deep into the unconsciousness... your mind engulfed with the thoughts of your demise. It was getting harder and harder each day for you to keep your sanity intact. A constant state of melancholy always prevailed within your aura, even your own shadow seem deceitful.

Walking on cold thin nights

Then the night of that cursed full moon occurred. You glanced at the starry night from the now open window of your cell with your souless (e/c) eyes. Succumbing towards the void of eternal darkness. Heaven knows what grave sin you might have committed to receive such heavy punishments. As you were busy getting drowned in your own thoughts the shoji door slightly opened and the maids rushed inside your room one by one with cloths and accessories in their arm.

"It's time m'lady" the head maid bowed respectfully infront of you, then motioned the other maids to help you get ready. You could feel them pitying you, sympathizing the miserable state you're in. You simply nodded and get up to dress for your deathbed. At this point you didn't care much you just want it to get over soon, trailing off in the sea of your own distorted thoughts.

You approached your family to bid farewell before heading towards the palanquin. Everyone wishpering behind your back something that they are not allowed to speak infront of you. That didn't bother you anways but you wish you could atleast see your mother for the last time. Is it that hard for a mother to witness her daughter's departure that she needs to constantly hide indoors avoiding her like plague?

A herd of maids accompany you as your bridesmaid to mount Akakura. The norimono stopped infront of a shrine. The bitter cold outside and the solemn atmosphere made it difficult for you to enter through the main gates. All of them left at once after escorting you inside the shrine. While you sat there facing the kami observing the interior, The light of the lamp beside you flickering slowly. The shrine was enormous filled with shofisticated designs, paintings and detail descriptions of the great folklore of Japan. Gods like susanoo killing Yamamoto no orochi in order to restore peace, you were completely lost admiring the aesthetics of the shrine.

But then it broke,

Did she awoke again?

"This is not what we were expecting", you felt a strong gust of wind behind your back as if something was breathing behind your back, you could feel saliva dripping over your expensive uchikake and to your exact horror was standing your living nightmare, a disfigured seven headed monster signifying those of a dragon and a serpent hovering on top of you covering almost the entire shrine glancing directly at your fragile figure with pure malice and hunger.

"Nay, certainly not, she's not one of them, fufu", another head cooed grinning creepily. You looked at them with utter confusion, raising your head slightly to look over that hideous thing above you.

"What do you mean?", Asking almost frustrated, your voice still shaking.

"Oh", the head at the centre replied, his voice calm and steady, facing you with it's long wide neck, his eyes glowing dangerously, inches away from your face, breath stinking of something you'd probably not keen to know as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I fear mortal, but you are not blood-related to any of the seven maidens we have devoured so far", you were taken aback. Not related? You were bewildered, unable to process the new set of information displayed before you, fresh stream of tear forming in the corner of your eyes.

"No, you are lying", You snapped at them angrily.

"What a clueless human, what do we gain by that?", The head in the left hissed irritatedly.

The ground beneath you seem to slide open whereas the sky above began to crumble. For eighteen years you have been raised by people who are not even blood related to you but most importantly they were using you to save themselves, you stood their perplexed, overwhelmed with the new reality. How cruel can people become? An urge to confront your parents came in demanding for an explanation, about their selfish lies, for hiding your true identity, stealing your childhood and a chance to live a normal life. Now that perfectly made sense why your mother always prayed to the Gods for forgiveness, barely talking to you or look in your eyes and why your father is so detached towards you and not your siblings. They were never your own and you were never there's.

"Those human thought they could deceive us, we will kill them", head to the left spoke.

"No, not so soon, they might have deceived us but the girl lying below us is a marechi, no no no we cannot let her go" the main head chuckled darkly, showing its true nature all of them at once looked at you with their protruding eyes, as you shut your eyelids for the worse accepting your misfortune, a heated argument broke among the seven heads.

"You have eaten all the seven women previously, I will have this one" the right head hissed, accompanied by other heads, all of them screaming and cursing at each other. You notice the unlocked gate it must have been open since the demon arrived. It was your golden chance to escape, as they were busy fighting, you took advantage of the situation, slowly crawling your way towards the entrance of the shrine . They seem to not notice you trailing off their sight.

"Stop fighting with one another, we all are literally the same, anyone of us eating her would be enough to make us stronger and please that man", the head at the center erupted fuming with anger.

"She's gone, she's gone", one of the head shouted. Indeed you were missing the only thing left was the wataboshi you wore on top.

Then she ran faster than-

You ran through the dense forest lifting your kimono, the smell of fresh air hitting your nostrils, the feeling of nostalgia came back as you can finally taste that long lost freedom you constantly craved for since forever but unfortunately that didn't last long. As you were running blindly you could feel something gigantic chasing from behind. Being too frantic you stumble and fell onto the ground your leg getting caught in the fabric of your kimono in the process.

Start screaming, "Is there someone out there?"

Please help me

Come get me

"You thought you can ran away from us? What a foolish human", the sound of loud laughter resonated through out the woods. The demon wrapped its tale around your waist squeezing you tightly in attempt to crush your defenseless body lifting you up opening its mouth to shove you inside.

Behind her she can hear it say-

"Let go of me!" You screamed on top of your lungs, a last desperate attempt to exist. When out of the blue a large mascular tentacles flew towards your direction cutting the tail swiftly in a blink of an eye, releasing you from its bone breaking grip but instead of crashing against the ground, you were caught by a pair of strong masculine arm. You looked up in disbelief. A familiar fair male in texudo emerged, his flawless features shining underneath the moonlight coming through the branches.

"Muzan..."

"We met again (y/n), I hope am not too late", he smiled at you gazing softly. Tears came rolling down your cheeks as you cannot believe was it real or just a dream.

History always seem to find it's way of repeating itself.

His previous soft look instantly changed to that of a menacing one as he trailed his glance towards the disfigured monster.

"Crouch down and lower your heads", all the seven heads bow down infront of the demon lord, Cowering with fear at once as if they were struck by lightning.

"Pardon my lord, we didn't realize you have arrived before us or else-", the demon yelped immediately like a lost puppy.

"Who gave you the permission to speak?" Muzan replied indignantly, his eyes glowing threateningly at the petrified creature. You knew he was a demon but you were unaware that he held such authority making a powerful demon like Akai that supposedly haunts the mountain for centuries to lower his head in terror on his command. What was unknown to you that he infact was the progenitor of these morbid creatures.

How ironic being saved by none other but a demon.. being first of his kind.

"Have mercy, my lord" the demon begged, while one of his head thought why's he saving that human girl?

"Why am I saving that human girl? Go ahead, continue", muzan narrowed his eyes making the demon quivered with shock. He can read my mind?

"What makes you answer my authority?" The demon lord demanded furiously, veins popping out from his head.

"Beings like you should not be allowed to exist" with that said, his one arm stretched, injecting a sharp blade into the creature allowing his blood to overflow, creating chaos in the demonic cells of that creature eventually turing it into a pile of molten flesh.

It's over, the nightmares. Fresh tears rolled down your face, mixed with all sorts of emotions, the tables have turned, the heavens seems to have listen to your prayers. A pair of large hands cupped your face breaking you from the chain of thoughts

Follow everywhere I go

"Why are you still crying, dear?" Muzan replied with his smooth, monotonous voice, removing his hand as he placed you gently on the surface. His mood changed in a matter of seconds, you wonder how much more he was capable of doing beside that but brushing aside those feelings of negativity you moved closer.

"Took you long enough" engulfing him in a tight hug, startling him in the process. The idea of being intimate with a lowly creature was good enough to make him puke in disgust. How can a mortal like you have the audacity to touch the all mighty kibutsuji Muzan? He believed himself to be above everything even viewing his own subordinates as puppets of his play. His twisted sense of morality speaks that affection holds a person from attaining superiority and is a sign of weakness, the more ruthless and cold hearted the more close you are to perfection. He shows no value to people who possess such emotions which he is foreign to. Your vulnerability makes him want to ripped you to shreds, torment you and break your mind, yet he finds himself at ease. It was hard for him to admit that his pride was hurted against someone so delicate and somehow he felt those feelings of warmth to be tolerable with you, even to the extent of craving it.

After a while, a sudden realization hit your senses as you parted from the tight embrace, your (s/c) countenance painted with dark shades of red, averting your gaze from the demon. The moon shone brightly above you exhibiting your breathtaking beauty just like a piece of art. The way your shiny (h/c) locks fell over your smooth skin, the way your pulm lips parted to speak and the way your eyes sparked with adoration, was enough to drive him insane. From the very moment he laid his eyes upon you, he knew a masterpiece like you belonged only to the epitome of perfection. He will do anything to keep you to himself.

Top over the mountains or valley low.

"(Y/n), you have a very rare blood, a marechi" said muzan, as you recall the conversation you had with the demon in the shrine saying something similar on this note.

Give you everything you been dreaming of

"What's with that muzan?" You asked curiously, to which muzan's tone changed into that of a viscous one.

"Its a great meal for demons", silence broke out as you were too shock to say anything. Muzan knew he can take advantage of that situation and mould you the way he desires.

"(Y/n) are you scared of me?"

"No", you replied almost immediately with no hesitation.

"Do you trust me?" He questioned again looking at you directly with his glowing ruby orbs. Beginning his sick games of manipulation.

"Yes I do, with all my life, you are the only one who saved my life not once but twice, you cared so much for me when no one did" you paused.

"Beside my mother"

Just let me in, ooh

"Your family abandoned you, when you needed them the most" he replied creating doubts about inside of you, making you back off a little towards a tree.

"My mother was helpless" you answered.

"They used you for their own benefit", pinning you against the tree, he whispered venom into your ears. The proximity between you two, send shivers down your spine. Seeing you helpless excited him, making him determined to claim you even more.

Everything you want in gold, I'll be the magic story you have been told.

"How do you k-know?" You trembled, gasping your mouth and before you could lift your hands to cover your face muzan held your hands into his bigger ones looking directly in your eyes.

"Tell me (y/n) am I wrong?", you knew he wasn't although it didn't make sense.

"No.." is all you replied, satisfied with your answers muzan proceeded into the next step.

And you will safe under my control.

"I want to keep you safe, (y/n)", he moved closer to your face.

"You and I shall rule the world"

"I don't know muzan"

"No one can harm you ever again"

"But-"

"Don't you want to be free?"

Free? That's what you have been wanting for so long, freedom. He made you believe that you can be a boundless bird stretching its wings in the infinite magnitude. All of your doubts stopped growing from then and there, muzan knew he has struck the right cord, creating a ray of false hope about your vision of a perfect free world, thereby controlling your perception just like a predator luring his victims with lies. Seems as if you were destined to be deceived.

"Yes" you replied hypnotized by his convincing.

"Then become a demon"

Just let me in, ohh

Muzan moved his hand across your face caressing it gently, his face inches apart from yours, as his lips crashed against yours. For someone who recoiled from physical touch, to be felt loved by something that isn't supposed to be God's creation. A warm feeling crept inside of your chest as it was pressed against his. Feeling your joint heartbeats.

I never bothered to feel my chest for a heart beat, now I do. As I looked down to see my hand moving towards my face, the slimy red droplet broke away, disconnecting our lips. Demon? This man who gave me this new life? His eyes, so calm and fiery, How can I feel such duality? I lifted my other hand, without knowing it went to his chest, On his chiseled chest, there. You thought.

"A demon?" You replied with your now quivering lips turning your face away with embarrassment, realizing your lips connected with burning passion. Your eyes teared up you know not why, to be embraced by one who was supposed to be cold, to be embraced by someone who stood against armies through out time, you wanted to be with him.

"you will be", said muzan, as you felt your consciousness fading away, you know now why... Why all of them follow him, despite the abuse..Despite the sacrifices... you know now why your body moved craving for his touch although you could feel your throat burning yet it didn't matter, the warm embrace is all that you wanted.

That night you abandoned your humanity.

[tessas-testimonies]

I plan on writing my own thoughts for this, but I am at work currently and can't give it the proper attention it deserves, expect either an edit to this reblog, or reblogging my own reblog with my thoughts

Edit: finally coming back to expand

I don't have a ton to say on this post, but some things that stick out to me, and resonate with me. Even without having come out to any leaders myself yet.

The same leaders who questioned if the person was telling the truth, are the ones that left the person feeling poorly about everything. It's not the only similarity of course, but it struck a chord with me as when I came out to my parents, at first they didn't believe me, and that hurt almost more than anything that's happened since. To have found the courage to share something so incredibly personal and sacred to me, only to be told I don't know what I'm talking about, was following a fad, or whatever else. It hurt, it felt like I wasn't being respected, and I certainly wasn't feeling loved. With my parents, rather than them asking questions to get to know me and my situation better, they assumed and jumped to conclusions, and we all walked away feeling worse for it.

The comments about not needing the doctrine repeated to us really hit hard for me. For those that don't know, I have gone to serve a full-time mission, I was actually part of the first group of missionaries to be sent home early due to COVID. I witnessed a lot on my mission, and even got to take part in a few new members joining the local wards, both baptisms and confirmations. For the first, eh I'd say 6-7 months, that I was really questioning, "am I really trans?" I was a nervous wreck. I had little to no appetite, was frantically studying everything I could about the gospel, trying to find some indication that everything would be ok, that I wouldn't have to worry. I read the Family a few times, read the section of the church handbook on being trans, and even went back and read through various talks on the subject. So when time and again I hear someone try to mention the Family Proclamation, I'll admit I'm starting to get a little calloused towards it, even with my own interpretation of "the gender line" in it. So many people assume that being any part of the LGBTQ community means that you've "lost your way" and just need to study the scriptures more. In my eyes, it's not studying more that's the answer, it's studying the correct way.

There's a lot that's going to have to change in the church before all it's problems are solved, and despite certain apostles saying things like "the doctrine never changes", we already know that isn't true. I'm not going to go in depth on it here as it's not my intention for my blog, but there are a lot of cases of something being taught widespread within the church, only to go back later and be adjusted or changed. God's truth is eternal, and is unchanging. However, His truth is to love thy neighbor, to serve those around you, to be a kind, loving, and generous person. I'll tell you right now, I have never met more kind, loving, or generous people, than I have in the LGBTQ community. Nearly every online space I've joined, I've been met with near instant love, acceptance, and a sense of belonging, always being treated like a long lost sibling.

So to those of you out there that are part of those spaces, and even this space on tumblr. I love y'all, thank you for, (in some cases literally), saving my life! <3

[cityandking]

4, 22, 29 for dai/zaref!!! (aaaaaand the gorls and middy/eniko, if you like :3c)

ty sweets!! // send me a ship

4. First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

DAI/ZAREF — I believe zaref predated dai at the northern garrison—he wasn't leadership but he was the soldier who had been around longer than most of the others and everybody sort of looked up to him. their relationship was very much professional but daichi liked him; he was the right sort of kind to take newer recruits under his wing and could be fun but not at the expense of his duty (which dai found admirable) and a good soldier above all. they weren't particularly close I'd say but they were probably friends, or friendly if not truly friends anyway. that said, dai really wouldn't have even considered the possibility of being anything more had it not been for the disaster that struck and the way they ended up thrown together

BRAN/SABINE — oh I think bran was fascinated by sabine from day one. whether it was a wet rat of a woman scowling solitary and proud upon the pier or a friend of middy's or a sharp-faced rebel uncowed before the empire's blade I think branwen knew almost as soon as they met that they were the same sort of person, were both running from something. I think bran saw sabine and in her own covetous way wanted to put hands on her and see what she was really made of

MIDDY/ENIKO — he just thought she was bright. bright bright bright, the kind you can't look at head-on because it's too much. he didn't think of anything beyond that, of the warmth or the kindness or how lonely it can get in the light—all that came later. he just liked her for her glow.

22. Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

DAI/ZAREF — I don't think so? I mean it's not exactly like they're employed right now or anything but like. work is kind of what brought them together. I think work certainly could in the future given all of zaref's vague shadow soldier of the void background stuff but I think, honestly at this point if dai was given an ultimatum between his holy order and his friends he knows which one he'd choose in a heartbeat.

BRAN/SABINE — I mean maybe in the dark au, technically, but I don't really think it would. maybe in worlds where bran travels a lot? but even then I don't think it would be, like, any serious interference, cause like I said, I think they could manage long distance well enough.

MIDDY/ENIKO — oooh hm. yeah I think in some au's it could definitely make things rocky. eniko lying in the treasure-hunting au, for example. or an au where they're both rogues and thieves and enikö is the very worst of himself—I think that would probably cause problems. not in a way they couldn't overcome, just in a way that they'd have to overcome, y'know? in those worlds where enikö sees himself as too much of an object to treat people and relationships with the full depth they're owed. what a dick.

29. How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

DAI/ZAREF — dai really truly grew up in and around triage situations and disasters and emergencies and he's really really good at sliding into that sort of healer/cleric mode where he works through the immediate disaster. for minor injuries he's pretty one-n-done about them (though definitely with a small and shy side of physical affection). I think he'd be a bit fussy about sickness, mostly cause he grew up taking care of his dad so that sort of long-term caretaking is kind of hardwired in.

BRAN/SABINE — really fucking well I think. they're both pretty good at rolling with situations as they come and I think between the two of them they'd be even better. I also think they get into enough scrapes and messes that patching each other up is sort of a familiar, wry, almost comfortable ritual and also sometimes maybe foreplay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ when one of them is sick I think there's probably moderate complaining about one or the other not saying anything and then complaining about mothering and complaining about it not being that bad but at the end of the day someone is tucked into bed with soup and the other one is right next to them. obviously it's sad when sabine is sick but it's cute when she's not feeling well enough to fend off bran's more aggressive affection

MIDDY/ENIKO — okay first things first eniko absolutely refuses to acknowledge when he's sick so middy has to physically suplex him into bed. however he's a very good boyfriend when she's sick so it's? okay?? I guess??? anyway. I think he's a super steadying presence when things get frenetic. not cause middy can't handle things just cause every now and then she gets sort of overwhelmed and bottles it up to come out at worse times and he's always so even keeled, maybe more so during disasters and emergencies than any other time, so it works out well. (on the other hand when something is bad enough to ruffle him you know it's really really bad). enikö's also the kind to ignore minor injuries which I imagine middy is having none of

[violetjedisylveon]

Promises

This is a story from an AU where four months after the rebellion on Raada Ahsoka somehow got pregnant. How? I don't really know, I'm kinda going for an accidentally Force spawned child with Kaeden. I don't know and Ahsoka and Kaeden don't know how it happened. Everything here is taking place around five months after the discovery of her pregnancy.

This is the first story of this AU series. The baby is my OC.

Summary: Ahsoka is on a remote planet, hiding out from everyone because of accidental Force usage from the baby inside her and Inquisitors. She misses Kaeden and tries to stay safe. She gets into some troubel and has to give birth alone because she's suspicious of the imperial run medical centers.

Warnings: Some blood and really brief violence, pregnancy stuff like water breaking, labor pains and afterbirth, I try not to be very graphic with those things. Some anxiety. Probably nothing too bad.

Word count: 1,745.

Ahsoka leaned against the cold, hard rock, clutching her swollen stomach in pain. Could you not kick me right now? She shouted internally at the child growing in her stomach, knowing it couldn't hear her.

Snow drifted down from the dark grey sky, certainly helping her situation. Ahsoka grunted and pushed herself off the rock, she took shaky steps towards a cave opening in the distance. She stumbled into the shelter and shivered in the cold, she wrapped her cape around herself, trying her best to keep warm.

Ahsoka groaned at a series of kicks to her stomach. Please stop! She pressed her head against the cave wall and bit her tongue in an attempt to lessen the pain she felt. Carefully, she lifted her hand off her side, her hand was stained with dried blood. Ahsoka pressed a peice of cloth against the wound in her side, Things couldn't get worse, could they? She sighed.

Her thoughts drifted towards Kaeden, I miss her. I wish I hadn't told her to stay, if I had let her come with me this might not be so bad. She wouldn't be stupid like me and think to hide in a mountain. She would probably know what to do with all of this. Ahsoka glanced down at her pregnant stomach, most humanoid life forms had a similar carrying term of about twelve months, Togruta gave birth in eleven months. Well, maybe not. At only five months pregnant, Ahsoka more than looked ready, the baby had grown incredibly fast. I wonder what's going on in there? And I want to know how this happend. She pushed the question to the back of her mind, she would find out soon enough.

Ahsoka turned her thoughts towards Kaeden, how warm she always was, the way she smelled was comforting and soothing. Slowly, Ahsoka drifted into an uneasy sleep.

XXX

Rocks crumbled outside the cave.

Ahsoka rosed imedeatly and got up, she reached for the lightsabers in her sack. A faint shadow fell over the opening. They're waiting. She backed deeper into the cave to wait for them to make the first move.

The moment she saw a foot of the being, ahe Force pushed them down and sprinted out the cave, dodging a blaster bolt but taking a vibro blade to the thigh. She whirled around and struck out with her lightsaber, taking an arm off, Ahsoka didn't bother to see what or who was attacking her.

She ran as fast as she could up the steep mountain side. Ahsoka finally stopped when she felt the blood on her leg, she looked down and saw the large gash in her leg. She looked around for shelter, there wasn't much around, the mountain side was bare and snowy. Ahsoka trudged higher up the mountain, keeping a look out for any shelter.

Suddenly, there was a wetness in her legs. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Not now! This is the worst possible time for you to come! Ahsoka panicked, there was no where for her to stop, certainly no where safe. A small contraction passed through her, "This is all happening too fast! Kaeden told me the contractions didn't start this early!" She shouted, a kick hit her from the inside. "Now you're listening to me?!" Another kick.

"I don't have time for this! I need to find shelter!" There wasn't a third kick. Ahsoka moved as best she could, she had to stop every now and then for a particularly strong contraction. She began to hold her stomach in an awkward position, she tried lifting it up, maybe that would halt it.

There! A patch of trees grew out of the mountain side, the ground was probably flat enough and the underbrush would provide some shelter from the wind. Ahsoka made a beeline straight for the grove and headed deep inside it, concealing her tracks and going as deep as she could to find the best place.

A sharp contraction passed through her, I have to stop soon, this is going way to fast! The urgency built up, she had to move faster.

Ahsoka stopped at the opening to a small area formed by the large tangled roots of the trees, there were small shrubs and plants all around and it was mostly covered from the outside, it was also easy to defend and had more than enough space for her. Relife washed over her and she slipped inside.

She still wasn't taking any chances, she pulled everything she had with her out of her sack, among them was a large tarp, she could stretch it above her to cover from thw snow and wind, it could also cover to entrance nicely, she had a several small blankets and two bigger ones, she also had a heat generator, she hadn't used it yet, it would be used mostly for the baby.

Ahsoka got to work preparing her makeshift camp, the contractions would force her to stop and focus all her attention on giving birth soon. She heated up some extra melted snow water so she could be prepared for the mess and placed a bowl in the proper place.

By the time the light from outside could be seen, Ahsoka was finished with most of her preparations, she was just finishing with making a safe place for the baby to go, she wasn't going to let anything happen.

The contractions came hard and strong, Ahsoka grabbed a stick and prepared herself, "Let's do this."

XXX

A slippery, wet plop.

Then a soft cry.

Ahsoka's chest heaved and her entire body shuddered. The crying continued. It was night by now. She forced herself to sit up and looked over her legs into the bowl.

There, squirming and crying, was a little dark orange Togruta child. Ahsoka reached over and picked her child up out of the water, the baby was a girl. Ahsoka dried her new born daughter quickly, she wiped the after birth out of her eyes and ears, doing exactly as Miara had showed her before she left.

Ahsoka wrapped her baby up in a clean blanket and held her close, she turned the generator on to a higher, more comfortable level, it was on the lowest setting before. The little baby still fussed and whined, she had short, stubby white montrals and lekku with three soft blue stripes on each. On her face were small pale creamy white patterns, the markings were somewhat heart shaped on her cheeks and small brow marks. Oddly enough, there was a lot of fuzz on top of her head.

"Hello there little one." Ahsoka gently cradled her baby's head, Well, she seems pretty normal. She thought, wiping an extra bit of after birth off the baby's face, the baby opened her blue-gray eyes and laughed. A strange feeling washed over Ahsoka, she was happy but also sad, she knew Padmé had been pregnant when she died, the baby she was carrying died with her. Anakin's gone too.

The thoughts saddened her, "I'm sure Padmé's baby would have been a good friend for you." She told her daughter, "Anakin and Obi-wan would have loved you too." She sighed, there was no going back and there was nothing she could do.

The baby laughed again, Ahsoka smiled down at her, "I won't leave you, I promise..." She paused, she still needed a name for her newborn.

"Padmé. I will never leave you." the small child looked up at Ahsoka with crossed eyes before rubbing her head against her, "Right, you haven't eaten ever."

XXX

The world was quiet.

A dull hum filled the air and a white light shone off the snow.

Ahsoka held Padmé close to her and angled her body away from her attacker. She tasted the salty tang of blood on her tongue, her lightsaber illuminated her face.

It was a stand off. She didn't want to make the first move.

A blaster bolt shot by her head, she narrowly dodged it and deflected the next one into a nearby tree, the tree fell over ans Ahsoka ran. She didn't have the time to fight, she needed to get off the planet and back to Kaeden, back to where Padmé would be safe.

She ducked when a projectile hit the rocks above her. One of the falling rocks hit her head, she rolled out of the way and Force pushed the attacker down and pulled more snow and rocks onto them.

Her head pounded and throbbed. I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon. She told herself, repeating it over and over. Padmé let out a small cry, "Shh, it's alright, we'll be out of the cold soon." Ahsoka gave her a gentle pat on the back. She spotted an old mark she'd made when she'd first arrived on the planet, her ship wasn't that far away.

Ahsoka broke into a sprint over the rise, her shuttle was sitting right where she'd left it. She ran down the hill and jumped into her ship, it was cold inside. Quickly, she started the engines up, the ship roared to life and trembled. Padmé cried out more, she tossed her little arms around, she was only five months old so it was expected, Ahsoka just didn't expect her to be quiet as restless.

The ship lifted off and the blaster shots bounced harmlessly off the sides. Ahsoka sank down in the pilot's seat, they'd finally be safe. "Let's finally get a good rest. How does that sound?" She asked while plugging in the Hyper-space coordinates. Padmé giggled and smiled, Ahsoka turned her around to face the stars, they blurred together as their shuttle jumped to hyper-space, Padmé cooed and clapped her hands, "You like that? You'll get to see it a lot more, a whole lot more." Ahsoka promised.

She shifted her daughter's carrier to the right, away from the wound in her left side, "I think you'll love home. You're defenately going to love Kaeden. Miara too." Ahsoka said, looking out at the blue void of Hyper-space once more.

She smiled down at Padmé, "You'll have a home soon." She turned and went to the back of the ship to get much needed rest. Home. I promise you'll always have a home Padmé. There will always be food, love and a warm bed for you. I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you.

"Goodnight, Padmé, I love you."

[ohdearhiddles]

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 2/? 

CH. SUMMARY: You tell Loki that you are a monster, and Loki tells you that he is one, too.

WORD COUNT: 3652 (Link to Ch. 1 )

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: mentions of death; So, I'm definitely going to edit this chapter eventually.  Also I think I lied, this is definitely going to be a bit longer than 3 chapters. The more I think about the story, the more I want to add to it, so who knows how many chapters there will be. I hope you like it x (AO3 LINK)

Your feet felt impossibly heavy as you walked back to your apartment. The sun had just dipped over the horizon, painting the sky a magnificent orange, purple, and blue as it bid the day farewell. The streets were bustling at their usual speed, people weaving through one another like needles embroidering a ritualistic path in order to create something beautiful. These people, their lives were beautiful. You found yourself envious for the first time in a while, wishing that you could walk the streets as you used to. The unspoken wish to be free from whatever curse had befallen you was on the tip of your tongue.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to cease to exist but exist all the same.

There was a point in time when you had believed that curses were things of fairytales and that if they were to exist in the real world, it certainly wouldn't happen to you. For your entire life, you felt as though you had lived in a way that would've made even the gods proud. You did right by others, and in return, the world did right by you. Yet here you were, paying for a crime you didn't commit and running into the law when you had meant no harm. Things like that made you wonder if gods really existed.

As you neared the apartment complex, your heart began to hammer in your chest. You were struck with the sudden realization that you had missed the "date" that Loki had planned for the two of you that evening; although, maybe it was for the better. Now the handsome gentleman would be able to see that he was better off in another woman’s presence rather than yours, and you would no longer need to worry about your lips ever touching him. No matter how many times you ran that thought through your mind, the weight on your shoulders didn’t go away. It was as if the world not only bestowed a curse on you, but now they handed you a rare specimen of a suitor that was barely out of your reach. 

The world was cruel and the gods made fun of your every move.

You held your head up high, letting your mind wander to more pressing matters like how you were going to explain the lethal situation that all the men from that file had found themselves in.  Would you spend the rest of your life constantly looking over your shoulder? Will they condemn you for your crimes? Or worse, would they take you away to live as a lab rat for the rest of your life?

From the corner of your eye, you saw your reflection on the glass window of a local shop. You stopped to stare at it, wondering if your reflection felt as bad as the both of you looked. The makeup you had put on had worn off from the countless times you had rubbed your hands over your face in distress since leaving the station. Glancing at the reflection of your hands, you pulled them up, analyzing your palms and then flipping them over to analyze the backs of them as well. 

Were these the hands of the monster you had become?

Shaking your head, you turned back to the sidewalk. These thoughts were something you had thought many times over the past few years, and you had done what you could to keep them at bay. You had finally reached your building when you stopped in your tracks.

Sitting on the stairs, a bouquet of flowers at his feet, was Loki. His elbows rested on his thighs as he stared off into the distance. You were shocked to say the least. Not only had he witnessed you get into a police car, but he had sat down and waited for your return. The thought of him watching the sun set all on his own made you feel a tad guilty. He was a man that seemed to deserve more than a potential future convict as a date, and he definitely deserved more than a date that ditches him for an interrogation room.

His eyes met yours, a piercing gaze that you had matched many times before. Loki picked the flowers up from the stairs, standing to greet you. A sheepish grin appeared on your face at the sight of him. This was in no way romantic. In fact, a man that sits and waits for a date to come back from the police station is most likely insane, but who were you to care?

Loki held out the bouquet, his jaw clenching as he waited for you to take it. Your heart felt heavy at the unhappy expression on his face and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift down to your feet in embarrassment. 

“How long have you been sitting here?” You asked, eyes still trained on your shoes.

“Long enough,” he spoke, his voice still so confident despite his date for the night being driven away by law enforcement seconds before he arrived to pick her up. You felt his eyes following your every movement as you began to walk towards the entrance of the complex. It felt intimidating how he was looking at you; it reminded you of when you had first encountered him. His presence itself was intimidating, but when his eyes met yours, you always felt so small, so incomparable.

Loki followed your lead, walking only a couple steps behind as you began the ascent to your home. He was quiet and so were you, but this silence was different than usual. Sure, the two of you didn’t always talk when you met. Sometimes you just sat in the presence of one another, enjoying the feeling of not being alone in the universe - a soft, peaceful silence. This silence, however, was sharp like the finest blade forged by the heavens. It was filled with the strength of every secret hidden between the two of you, strong enough to bring down giants and break through mountains. It was an invisible blade, threatening you to break down the walls you had built or else it would do the job for you.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind Loki that he spoke again, “Care to explain?”

His tone wasn’t as intimidating as it was before. Perhaps he read your body language and understood that you weren’t in a good state of mind after such an encounter, or perhaps he had just gotten over his anger and realized that you didn’t willingly ditch him. Either way, you were happy that he didn’t seem too angered by your sudden disappearance.

“It’s a long story,” you responded, walking over to your sofa to sit down. Once again, Loki followed.

“I have quite a lot of time.”

At his statement, you looked up. His green eyes pierced through yours, trying to decipher the thoughts running through them. Loki sat down next to you, turned slightly to face your distraught self, as he cleared his throat, “The woman I was meant to accompany this evening seemed to have had some unexpected business to take care of.”

You smiled at his words, knowing that the man before you was only trying to make you smile. He was quite good at it; in fact, you had smiled more in his presence than you had smiled in the past 6 years, and for that, you were both thankful and terrified. Loki’s presence terrified you. At the beginning of the night, you had told yourself that this would be the last time you met with him. Now, as you tried to tell yourself the same thing, it was met with downright rejection. 

Loki had willingly stayed, waiting for you to return to receive an explanation. So, he was quite possibly insane, but part of you wondered if his kind of insanity would mix well with your own. Since you were a woman that killed others with whatever venomous talent you possessed, maybe insanity was what you needed in your life. But when has insanity ever been the cure for anything?

Sighing, you shook your head, “I don’t think you want to hear it, Loki. It’s not exactly a good first impression.”

“So, it’s a secret?” A grin replaced the more concerned look he had only a minute or so before. The grin was gorgeous. Of course,  everything  about this man was gorgeous, and for a split second you thought:  If he really is insane, then insanity has never looked so good.

It was true. He was by no means an earthly kind of attractive. His long black hair, sharp jawline, and lean figure along with the English accent made him seem otherworldly.

“A secret better left unsaid,” you responded, nodding.

“Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Loki taunted. His tone seemed more playful, as if the barrier you had placed between the two of you was more of a fun obstacle course than a warning sign that said ‘No Trespassing.’ Part of you wanted to urge him to break down the walls while the more logical side told you not to trust a man that had fun poking at secrets. You were always the type to ignore logic, though.

As Loki continued to grin childishly, you turned to face him completely. You gazed into his emerald colored eyes, hoping to find security and a place in which you could safely put your trust. There was no such place in Loki’s eyes; there was something much better. You couldn’t quite put it into words or coherent thought what you saw in his eyes when they met yours this time. It was as if light and dark had met and formed a fine line in which the two of you could walk upon, a grey area where all right and wrong needn’t exist. If there was a paradise for those who had fallen so far from the grace of god and man alike, Loki knew where it was. His eyes held the promise of acceptance, a promise he, too, seemed to yearn for.

When you looked away, there was no further decision making needed. If he was meant to turn his head the other way when you fully opened your heart to him, then that was what you would have to accept. But just like the day when he first sat next to you, there was something in him that made Loki seem sad, vulnerable, and even relatable. Although he looked as if he had just walked down from a pedestal made of jade and gold, he also seemed as though he had walked through hell and back. 

If there was one individual to grace this planet that would not run away, it would be him.

“Can I trust you?” You asked him, testing the waters.

Loki paused, seemingly contemplating your words. His eyebrows furrowed and his grin vanished, and you wondered if he was already thinking about backing out. Now, if you had been able to read minds, you’d know that it was quite the opposite. Inside Loki, a terrible war raged on. 

Trust. A small yet powerful word that could start or end the most destructive of battles. Could you trust him? Was there anyone in all the nine realms that was truly trustworthy?

His jaw was clenched as he stared at you, and you wondered what was going through his mind. The silence between you continued for what felt like a century before he spoke up.

“Yes,” he finally answered, nothing more and nothing less. Nodding, you sat up straighter, attempting to get a hold of your nerves. This was it - the moment of truth. 

So, you began, “I’m not sure how to explain, but I’m not normal.”

Loki didn’t react. He just sat there, his eyes trained on your hands that were attempting to break free from the skin covering them. The silence only urged you on.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t considered normal until I was about 21,” you continued. “It started when I was 16 and people around me started dying. I didn’t understand why, but it was a pretty big topic back then. My high school boyfriend passed away from a car accident, but we found out later he had died before impact, which was why he had crashed in the first place.”

“The next year, when I was 17, my dad passed away. The doctor said it was probably his heart, but-” The words were caught in your throat. If you said it now, you would have to fully admit that you had killed your own father. However, even you knew that there was no going back anymore. By now, you had already revealed that the deaths most likely had something to do with you, and that alone was enough to incriminate you if Loki chose to hand you over to the police. 

The feeling of a cold hand enveloping your own caused you to flinch. From the corner of your eye, you watched Loki’s eyes widen at your surprise pulling his hand back almost immediately. “It was me.”

“What was?” He asked, eyes trained on the palms of his hands.

“My father, his death, it was my fault.” You admitted, the feelings of guilt rushing through you like an unforgiving wind. Loki’s eyes snapped up to look at you, his expression serious now as he spoke, “It was not your fault.”

“No,” you countered, “It was. My father, my ex boyfriend, the men I saw throughout college, it was all me. It wasn’t until I watched the news one day that I even realized that the city saw their deaths as a string of murders. It all clicked. The deaths, the unanswered phone calls, and the rumors that people needed to stay away from me - it all made sense. I wasn't just a bad omen, I was killing people. By the time I was 21, I had killed 11 men and I was being called the city’s Angel of Death - a cold-hearted murderer.”

“Did you kill those men?” Loki asked, his voice unwavering. It was almost as if death did not phase him in the slightest, and for a brief second you were thankful that he was not scared of you or what you had said.

“Did you not hear me?” You retorted, standing from your spot on the sofa. “They call me the Angel of Death.”

Loki stood as well, his expression hardening at your words. He loomed over you, his presence once again becoming much more intimidating than you would have liked. “I heard you, but perhaps you aren’t listening. I’m asking a rather important question.”

He took a step closer before speaking once more. “Did you, Y/N, kill those men?”

Your eyes began to water, tears of pain and guilt flooding your body and soul. There was no turning back; this was you, revealed. This was vulnerability. This was trust.

“No,” you said, tears beginning to fall. “I didn’t mean to.”

The tears kept falling as Loki took the final step to close the distance between you two. His arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head as he calmed you with the gesture. Normally, this type of action made you feel suffocated; however, coming from him, it was like a warm blanket of security had just tightened its grasp on you. The words Loki whispered next set fire to your rabid thoughts, “I believe you.”

You pulled away in that instant, eyes turning cold, “Believe me?”

“Yes, I believe that you did not mean to kill those men.”

“But I killed them. Intentionally or not, their blood is on my hands and the police will come for me,” you cried, realization dawning on you. This was no time to be comforted by the hands of a ner stranger. In this moment, you were a key suspect in a string of crimes that would lead to your family disowning you, your friends hating you, and every good deed you had done to be erased from the face of this earth. You were dangerously close to being another killer on the long list of individuals to curse at the night sky about.

“You said it yourself - you did not kill those men.” Loki reassured, his determination matching yours. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching with every other word he said.

“I did,” you whispered as a reply. The unspoken horror had never been repeated so many times in one night, and you had never heard yourself say the words aloud until now. Every life you ended, every death you had caused hammered down on you, weighing on you like rain water in a cloud. You were darkening, threatening to burst with a downpour of storms until you flooded all that your shadow touched. Your thoughts began to consume you, eyes going dark as Loki stood before your stiff body. His words floated in your mind: I believe you.

“I’m a monster,” you stated as if it were fact.

“You are not,” Loki countered your remark, fighting back. “I have seen many monsters, and you are not one of them.”

“You’ve seen monsters?” You asked, eyebrows raising in a mocking way. Part of you was genuinely curious while the other part of you wanted to scream at him for trusting you even in the slightest. “I just told you that the blood of 11 men is on my hands, and you, you say I’m not a monster?”

Loki didn’t respond at first. He stood quietly, eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment you thought that you had won the argument. That is, until he spoke again, “If you were to know the things I have done, you would think much kinder of yourself.”

Curiosity. What a peculiar trait curiosity is. The trait of being curious seemed to break through even the toughest armors and most foolproof disguises. It was a fluid trait that demanded its rightful place as being the most dominant feeling an individual could possess. So, despite the current situation and the weight of the world resting on your shoulders, a small childlike piece of you wanted to know what the raven-haired man meant. What horrors had he seen? What had he done?

“What does that mean?” You questioned, watching for his reaction.

Loki continued to stare off as if there were demons wandering your halls and he had the duty of looking for them. Little did you know that the demons were not so far off that they had to be sought after. No, the demons were right there in the eyes of the man you had somehow grown attached to in the past few weeks. 

“It simply means that you are not the only person in this room that has done the unspeakable,” he responded, voice strained as if he had struggled tremendously to even say the words. You froze, unable to process what he meant by what he had said. If Loki was also a murderer, that means he would have done so with the full intention of killing someone. Unless he was like you, cursed by fate to send those you love to an early grave. 

Somehow, you wished it was the latter.

“And what does  that mean?” You repeated, growing more wary of the fact that you didn’t know much about this man at all. Long talks in a public park is quite different than allowing a man into your home, and this was beginning to seem like a bad idea. 

“You are not a monster no more than I am an innocent.”

“So, you’re saying that you’ve killed people.”

Those emerald eyes met yours once again, fear radiating from his gaze as he realized that he, too, can no longer take back what he has said. The confidence and intimidating aura that once covered his entirety now seemed something of the past. The walls were coming down, and both of you had exposed yourselves, more vulnerable than either of you were comfortable being.

“I am saying that I have done things I am not proud of, but I am working on fixing that,” Loki said.

“What did you do?” You questioned, finding it only fair that he share his secrets since you had shared yours. However, if you had been in your right mind, you would know that the world does not work that way. One secret does not equal another being told. Some secrets are too big, revealing much more than one hidden detail. This you would have seen in the mixed expression on Loki’s face as you had asked.

He seemed to take in a large breath before speaking, “I have done many things, but I believe you will be familiar with the memory of a god trying to take over your city.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment as the words floated through the air with no destination. 

“I’m an idiot,” you said, breaking the silence. The words Loki had spoken were rattling around in your mind like dice during an astounding game of Yahtzee. “Loki.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to continue to speak.

“You’re the god. You’re not just named after the Norse God of Mischief; you  are him. You attacked this city, you-” You stopped speaking as you came to a full understanding of what he had meant when he said he had done things he was not proud of. People had died; so many lives were lost because of him. Looking up, you met his cautious gaze, eyes filled with worry as he stood in front of you with his metaphorical armor laid at his feet. All the cards had been played, and there was no turning back for either of you.

“Do you still believe you are the only monster here?”

(Chapter 3)

[thewatercolours]

(Heads up - I was in kind of a wordy frame of mind when I wrote this... :-P)

Ah - I read this right away when you posted it, and now I am excited to reread for the comments!

You know, Graham-old-buddy-old-chum, reason would suggest you should just wear your quiver everywhere. Over your clothes. I do not actually want you to do this because it would ruin your cloak's swooshiness, but still. You wear your leather armour all the time, after all, suggesting you're always ready for a situation. So wouldn't always wearing your quiver make sense? (Let's face it - the leather set was probably a compromise at first. Like it was either he could keep dressing in his knightly adventurer look, which is at least dignified, or wear the more expected formalwear of a king, and he picked the former, not the formal.) But, um, let's focus on the story!

Also the archery opening is a good way to plant questions and a slight bit of tension as the story begins - a little preview of what's coming, rather than starting purely with political conversation.

Oh, this makes so much sense that surrounding countries would start closing in on Daventry once power shifted to a green, young king who's a little too inclined to trust. Everyone looking to gobble up their piece of the pie - or possible to swallow the whole thing up in one gulp.

I get the desire to prove himself, to meet with the ambassador without a guard breathing down his neck. But this is probably an example of a time when Graham's growing up instincts are tangling confusingly with the importance of security as a king. Around that age, it's healthy to strike out independently and distinguish your adulthood from your childhood, and when others attempt to help or protect you, it's fairly natural to push back because it feels like they doubt your capability. And how much more so for Graham, who has spent the last few years as a professional adventurer and has grown used to having everything in hand himself. It must feel stifling - and insecure - to be back under the careful watch of older people. But in this case, though No1 certainly has his doubts about Graham's naivete, it almost has less to do with Graham being immature or incaopable and more to do with the nation's good. The king must have guards, because even the most self sufficient king could get struck down or captured, and the stakes would not just affect him, but the whole population. And disentangling these two aspects from each other would be very tricky for a young king who's dealing with all the normal life milestones *and* a crown at the same time.

"And those have been frequent since the coronation." Putting it in its own paragraph makes it feel so ominous.

Yeeeeah... the fact that Graham and Manny called it an alliance (and Graham went around calling it that to anyone who would listen) would make it it really easy to throw shade on his attempts at actual diplomatic alliances. You've got a bad track record of one time, Graham, but it's a doozy. (You don't know the full extent of its dooziness yet...)

I mean, Graham, you haaave got just a bit of an ego. And this is literally No1's job - don't blame him for that. I mean, I bet it's easy to forget it's his primary function, what with the million and one tasks the guards have to take upon themselves in this understaffed castle. But the fact that his duty is to protect the king has nothing to do with how well or poorly you're doing. (Admittedly, No1 could be slightly more considerate in the way he's doing this, and Graham's resentment is also stemming from other stresses beyond this particular moment, but still. Both of you two, understand each other's needs. Get on it.)

Insidious! Hypnotic powder you don't have to ingest - hypnotic powder with some kind of enchantment to make it potent just from touching it!

I wonder how much of Graham's freeze response is natural and how much is the result of the stuff on the ambassador's hand. Maybe it has a small effect just from being in the vicinity. I imagine the ambassador is protected by some kind of magic so he doesn't hypnotize himself. Or get hypnotized by Graham. Wait - how does hypnotic powder even work? Does the powder "know" who administered it and whom the victim has to obey? Is it a generalized effect, like anyone could tell you to do something while you had it in your system, and you'd just go with it, Ella Enchanted style? (Obviously these questions are beyond the scope of this fic. I'm just spouting off.)

Nice callback! Earlier in the scene he said he was a knight before he was a king to prove he was fine to handle this situation himself. Now he thinks nearly the same words to himself, but this time in horror, because this fact is doing nothing to save him!

"The hand inched closer and closer, and the smell began to get stronger and stronger when suddenly, a different hand grabbed him. One that was firm and felt of metal gripped his cowl and yanked him further away. He admittedly choked at the clothing suddenly slamming into his throat, but that meant nothing when he realized who it was that grabbed and saved him in just the knick of time." No words. I just love this. "Stand down if you value your life." I love seeing him be all heroic. I can see this moment so visually. Graham grabbing No1's elbow, No1 en garde.

And just like that, all's well again. Yes Yes. Loved this. Loved this. Well done.

10: No1 shoving a startled King Graham behind him to protect him from a threat hehehe guard guard guard

He really should have had his archery kit in his pockets, Graham thought. He should really just have a constant spare one no matter the occasion.

It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust the delegates or ambassadors or rulers of the neighboring kingdoms surrounding Daventry, if anything he knew he was a bit too trusting based on the uncertain humming and muttering belonging to Number One whenever the topic of alliances was brought up. In fact, the captain of the Royal Guard always made it his business to always, no matter the circumstances, make sure a guard was an arm’s length away whenever said delegates, ambassadors or rulers came to seek an audience with Graham. 

And those have been frequent since the coronation.

Graham thought this was a good thing, a chance to extend any olive branches or treaties or really anything. Number One thought it was good spirit, but revealed a bit too much of Graham’s naivety.

He recalled being annoyed that Number One dared insinuate that he was naive, that he couldn’t read people as well as he thought. 

(“And to prove it,” Graham began, his hands on his hips, “I’ll be meeting with the ambassador from overseas with no guard hovering over me.”

“You call it hovering, I call it protection, sire.” Number One glared. “Or are we going to not bring up the whole duel of wits fiasco with your so-called ‘alliance’?”

“One time doesn’t make me terrible in judgement of character, Number One.” Graham glared in return. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t. However, I still don’t exactly approve of your egotistical decision… especially with this particular ambassador. Word has it that he’s been doing a number to nobility… and you’re still in the single digits of your reign.”

“Words, but not facts.” Graham pointed out, disregarding the backhand Number One had just said regarding his ego. “And you forget, I was a knight first before a royal.”

Number One stared long and hard but eventually crossed his arms. “Very well, we won’t hover.”

“Excellent–”

“We will be at the door. At the ready for anything.”)

And that anything was right now, in the throne room, where the ambassador was smiling almost sinisterly. The earlier talk of alliance and comradery evaporated when the ambassador insisted that for the pact to truly have meaning, that Graham would shake his hand. A hand that reeked of what Graham could only describe as a mix of that horrible hypnotic powder he was all too familiar with and enchantment of a sort.

He should slap the hand away, Graham thought. 

He should shout for distress, Graham panicked.

He should run, Graham internally screamed.

But his body wasn’t moving. It was frozen in place. Frozen in fear. Frozen in self anger for not taking Number One’s words to heart. 

Zards, he thought, was this really how he was going to be done in? By some supposed ambassador that was undoubtedly drenched in the archaic arts? All because he both refused to listen to Number One and so stupidly forgot his archery kit? He got too comfortable, he belittled himself. He should know better than to leave his room without it. He’s an archer, for Heaven sake! He’s a knight before he was a king! 

Move, he shouted at his body. Move!

The hand inched closer and closer, and the smell began to get stronger and stronger when suddenly, a different hand grabbed him. One that was firm and felt of metal gripped his cowl and yanked him further away. He admittedly choked at the clothing suddenly slamming into his throat, but that meant nothing when he realized who it was that grabbed and saved him in just the knick of time. 

“Number One!” Graham gasped.

The guard stood between the king and the attacker, his sword unsheathed and aimed at the startled ambassador who raised his hands up in slight defeat as the point of the blade was aimed dangerously at the enemy’s throat.

“Stay behind me, sire.” Number One ordered before his attention was on the ambassador. “As for you, stand down if you value your life.”

The ambassador glanced at Graham, almost trying to intimidate him. And in a moment of panic, of feeling naked without his own means to defend himself, Graham gripped to Number One’s armor.

“Heh, you do not scare me.” The ambassador snarked. “For you see, I know what to do with your ilk, you’re just– ugh!” He gulped as the tip touched ever so slightly the neck. Not enough to bleed, but enough for it to be felt.

“No, I’d rather not hear you talk anymore. Heard enough of that with your so-called ‘allegiance declaration’ you rehearsed to my king.” He took a step closer, noting the ambassador stepping back and sweating just slightly, especially so when the doors to the Throne room swung open and Number Two came charging in with the others, arresting the man on the spot. 

Graham exhaled slowly, feeling his entire body shake with nerves of what just happened. He gripped his chest, trying to steady himself when Number One turned to look at him, his sword sheathed away. He knew he would owe a thousand debts to Number One, that he was never going to hear the end of it about his judgement call… but in this exact moment, he didn’t care.

“Are you alright?” Number One asked.

“Thank you.” Graham managed to say. “And… you were right. I’m sorry.”

There was a series of snark that was brewing that even Graham could feel from Number One’s stare. He braced himself when instead he felt a pat on his shoulder.

“I know. And know that no matter what, you’ll always be safe… even if I was right in the first place.”

He chuckled and smiled. “I know.”

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Sweater Weather

I enjoy the headcanon of Doofus Rick having a variety of sweaters. And after looking at stock photos, I was inspired to write this fic. Hope you guys like it.

In this fic Ricks sweater causes some conflict.

____________

In the great vastness of space, one could learn the true meaning of loneliness. For miles upon miles, floating upon nothing, you could say it was like sailing across the sea. Yet, unlike the salt or crashing waves of the ocean, you two would navigate across star systems or avoid asteroid fields, while at the same time enjoy the peace which comes from being somewhere uncongested. However, as fascinating as it was to go on intergalactic, space adventures, one of the things you didn't enjoy was the extreme temperature changes; most of the time, you'd stay in the ship or stay home if a planet's climate was too cold for your taste, but on this occasion, Rick needed an extra pair of hands when you two stopped on Mars after spending most of the day at the Jerryboree.

After Zeta-7 had traded a few items of his own to obtain what he came for at a reduced price, you two ran as fast as you could back towards the ship, but by the time the ship was out of the Martian orbit, you were chilled to the bone. Rubbing your arms, you shivered. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to this."

Your breath came out like a cloud of smoke and the cold that had seemed mild at first had numbed your face and extremities. Rick turned up the heat, as well as turned on the seat warmers and offered you a freeze-dried Phytonian branch worm, but you passed on the offer. You knew it would have warned you up straight away, but the last time you tried one of those things, you had a stomach ache for three days. Concerned, he placed the ship on autopilot and did his best to search around in the back seat for anything you could use to warm up, but then as though it struck him on the head he groaned. "Darn it, I-I forgot that I removed the spare blanket to wash it."

"Where is it now?"

"I-I left it in the dryer."

You thought of telling him that it wasn't his fault he forgot it since you had distracted him this morning with a video about ninja cats, but it wouldn't have helped the situation. "Ricky," you tried to ease him with a weak smile but your teeth chattered. "it's not a big deal. Besides, we're not that far from home."

However, he wasn't convinced. You weren't as experienced when it came to space travel, but you knew well enough of the possible dangers associated with extreme body temperature shifts. The chill you had spread deep into your bones until you thought you'd rattle if shaken; a lick of fear traveling down your spine but otherwise you didn't feel too bad. Nonetheless, Rick was concerned for your well-being, and knowing you two were hundreds of thousands of miles away from your dimension's version of Earth, he made a decisive decision and started removing articles of his own clothing. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

With a blush, he handed you not only his knitted Jerry sweater but also his labcoat; leaving him in a thin t-shirt which had a snoopy patch on the right shoulder; how cute. "I hope it'll s-suffice until we get home."

"But what about you? What are you going to wear?"

Flashing you a stern look which left little room for argument, you slipped on his sweater and lab coat, and was delighted to feel a little more like yourself and relaxed by its scent; it was his essence; that of vanilla, of his home, and something you couldn't quite think of; chemicals perhaps. "Hmm, your clothes are a lot more comfortable than I expected them to be. How um…..how do I look?"

Turning down the lights and switching back to manual, he nodded. "It suits you m-mi corazón."

You admired its softness and passed your hand over the tight, twisted knit. It was a lovely shade of light sage green, and had a picture of a smiling Jerry holding a titanic ship model; you thought it was sweet that it was a picture of his friend. So many things this man-made or owned had a purpose or a story; this piece was most likely made to brighten up the day that the Jerrys in his care were having. Your Rick really was a good man; better yet because he saw the value in regular folk who probably didn't see it in themselves. "I like your clothes, Rick," you commented; your heart warmed by his goodness. "they seem to carry bits of you in them."

"Th-that could be said about any piece of clothing that's been worn. They carry bits of our DNA." he stated matter of factly.

"Eh….that's... I mean I get that, but that's not where I was going with this. I meant that they're soft and warm like you Ricky. You enjoy dressing comfortably, don't you? You own a variety of sweaters."

"Wh-who doesn't? I've sort of been dressing th-the same way for the last twenty or so years but when I met you, I had more opportunities to dress up. However, the older I get, the more often I'm in need of something a-a bit warmer and gentler on my skin. Actually, some of my clothes are locked to my particular genetic signature so that they'll or adjust according to the weather or climate. That way, I'll have less t-to carry on certain excursions."

"Incredible, that'll certainly come in handy, but can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

"I know you're focused on driving," you started, wondering if your assumptions were correct. "but is there a reason why you haven't looked me in the eyes since we left Mars, or am I just thinking too much?"

He visibly stiffened, but he still didn't face you. Rick seemed troubled, for he tightened his grip on the wheel. Maybe this hadn't been the best time to ask, but what else could you have done? If you didn't ask, how else would you have known? Still, if you had waited, you would've noticed the red light blinking on the control panel sooner. It was a caution light, but you weren't so concerned, but you should've been.

Rick had opened his mouth to answer, with a faraway look in his eyes, but in the blink of an eye he made a sharp left turn around some space junk; jostling you two as well as the cargo. That was another thing you hated about space was Earth's contribution to its pollution. Unknowingly, you two had deviated from the usual course by a few miles, leading you two into a dangerous situation. Whether it was the fault of his navigation equipment or his lack of focus you didn't know, but it took a couple of minutes of evading space junk before you two could breathe a sigh of relief. And at the first opportunity, he switched the ship back to autopilot. "I'm s-sorry about that. I'm usually a better driver." he started, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced out the window in search of an answer in the emptiness of space. You couldn't see anything except for a few stars and the Earth straight ahead, but you had a feeling that where he was looking was somewhere you couldn't see. When he was ready, he turned around in his seat to glance at you, but then quickly turned back to face the steering wheel. How odd. "T-t-to answer your question," he stammered. "y-you're not thinking too much. I've just been distracted."

"Oh, okay."

"Are y-you alright? Nothing hurts does it?"

"I mean, other than feeling wide awake now, no harm was done I guess, but what happened? It isn't like you to let your mind wander while we're out here. Rick, would you like me to take over the wheel so you can straighten out your thoughts?"

"No, it's not - I can do it. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm, as long as I-I focus on the wheel."

He hadn't really answered your original question, but since you guys nearly avoided death, it probably wasn't a good time.

________

He parked the ship in his garage, and since it wasn't that late, you two walked over to your home. Rick hadn't said much since earlier, but you figured he'd let you know what was bothering him later. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your home, you started a pot of coffee for Rick to drink when it was ready. Then, you got a blanket from the closet and offered it to him just in case he was cold, but he didn't care for one. He was still in a mood, and you wondered if the reason you'd upset him was that you were still wearing his sweater. "You probably want this back right?"

Slipping out of his sweater and labcoat, you felt the temperature difference immediately and took up the blanket you had taken out and wrapped it around yourself. "Thanks for letting me borrow them. I'll be sure to pack something with me next time."

"I'm n-not sure if that's such a-a good idea." he said with seriousness.

"What do you mean?"

The lines around his eyes deepened, as well as the creases of his forehead, and there was a pensive cloudiness of his usually electric blues. Frustrated, he bit down on his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed. "B-because it's distracting."

"What?"

He continued. "I-I should've brought you home first or gotten the parts a different time."

"But I thought you wanted help." you sniffled.

"Y-you don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" you retorted; sinking into the couch as tears stung the back of your eyes, and threatened to come out. "You...you don't want me to help you anymore? I thought we were a team."

Your saddened state shifted his sour mood, and he apologized. "Gosh, please don't cry mi corazón, I-I didn't mean it."

"But you sai-"

"I'm not upset at you," he reassured you. "I'm disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. I've become complacent and I-I should've been prepared. You could've gotten sick, hurt, or worse just because I got distracted. Next time I'll bring you your own sweater and snacks or whatever you want."

"Is it because you don't want me wearing yours? Did I ruin it or something?"

"No, it's because," he swallowed, unsure how to broach the subject. "cuando lo usas, es… es apretado."

What? You understood the part where he said you used it, but not the rest. Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you asked Google what all of that just meant, but the answer you got didn't help. "Rick, should I be offended?"

"I-I hope not. I promise it's not what you're thinking."

"Then what is it? I'm not getting any clear answers here."

"I um - I'm sorry if I offended you. It's not what I intended to do. I know what I'm about t-to tell you sounds silly since I had hoped I'd outgrow this, but I still feel shy around you."

This much you did know. He was overly conscious of himself, his actions, and how he might disappoint or be lacking, but most of all was hateful of his own inadequacies. Yet, for where he found fault, you found virtue and you would remind him of that, but in this case, you simply needed to listen. "That's okay, I already knew that."

"I don't feel like that all the time, but today I got embarrassed all of a sudden. I-I don't know what happened. Y-you were wearing my clothes and I saw your silhouette in the starlight and I got nervous."

Huh? That's what was bothering him?

"Why?"

"It um - it made me wonder what it'd be like if we lived together and…oh, it's embarrassing."

The hand which he had resting on the couch gripped the fabric tightly, and he was mortified because he had been distracted by you; which under normal circumstances he'd be able to remain calm. Covering his hand with yours, you gave him a squeeze."No, I would like to hear what you were thinking about very much."

Lacing his fingers with yours, you two sat there for a matter of minutes as he gathered his thoughts together. When he calmed a little, he confessed. "I thought about what it'd be like t-to wake up right next t-to you and not be alone anymore. I-I think about it a lot."

"Oh." That hadn't been what you expected. However, was it really so strange? He had intended to propose months ago, but ever since the moment had been spoiled he hadn't attempted to try again; if it had gone well, you two might've been married by now. Though, who was to say he didn't dream of it? Of what he'd always wanted, of a family or of the life in which he needed? Perhaps gentle encouragement wouldn't hurt.

"You know," you responded with a serious, but gentle candor. "you're not the only one who thinks about us living together. I'm very happy here and I love what we do together. And although we've had times where we respected one another's space, I don't mind if that changes. However, there are things that aren't so simple. For example, if I would've known that I could borrow your clothes whenever I liked I would've done so more often. Though, only if you hadn't been concerned about me getting accidentally poisoned by chemicals or radiation. Remember that time you literally fought with the laundry?"

"I do remember," he answered wistfully. "it's what prompted me t-to teach you how to use the freeze ray and laser gun correctly."

"I think the longer we're together, the more our lives will intertwine. Meaning, the more we move forward, the more training I'm going to need to fit into this lifestyle of ours. I think I'm going to need a portable scanner that'll allow me to check your clothes before I think of putting them on."

With serious, but tender eyes, he studied you. Then, he picked up his sweater which sat between you two and wondered. "Y-you want to wear my clothes? A great deal of them have seen better days. Are y-you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," you brightened. "because I love the way your clothes smell. If you were away, it'd make me think of you and it...I don't know, makes us seem more domestic. Is that along the lines of what you were thinking?"

"Y-yeah."

"Cool. Glad to know we're on the same page."

Relieved, he pressed a kiss to your temple and seemed ready for that cup of coffee. And as you stood, ready to head to the kitchen to prepare it for him, you mentioned. "And by the way, I gotta tell you something important."

"Gee, what is that?"

Striking a pose, you made him chuckle; that was a good sign. "That it's totally cool to be into me and check me out. I don't mind, and it makes me happy that I know what it takes to catch your eye. However, there's an exception: when we're driving around in space, where anything could kill us, we gotta keep our eyes on the space around us unless on autopilot. Only then," you winked. "might it be okay to be a little distracted."

Fin

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 3: Date Night 

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

 SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

"Is that you dear?" her mother called out as she pushed the door. "Yes Ma," the smell of roast dinner teased Hyeonji's nostrils as she made her way along the hall and into the kitchen. Not a pork smell. Chicken. Naturally, came the rueful thought. Chicken carried the least fat and calorie count, provided the skin was removed. Which it would certainly be. She almost sighed when she also spied her mother wrapping the hope-for crispy potatoes in foil. Zil glanced up and smiled at her daughter "Have a good day dear?"

"Pretty good, Choon hee, Han Byeol, Namjoon and the others bought me some cake, and you'll never guess who dropped in to see me this morning," she said brightly. Her mother answered her "I can't think. Who?"

"Hoseok"

"Hoseok? You mean Jung Hoseok?" asks her mother peculiarly. "The one and only." Hyeonji declined telling her mother about the fiasco of his new car. "He was up this way today and asked me out tonight for my birthday."

"But I'm cooking a special dinner for you tonight," she announced with a hint of displeasure in her tone. "I'll be here tonight for dinner Mum, Hobi isn't picking me up till around eight." Her mother gave Hyeonji a sharp look "You do realize he has a girl friend? A very beautiful one too, if I recall rightly" Hyeonji controlled her growing irritation with difficulty. "I'm well aware of that Mum, but were only going somewhere for coffee. Don't forget Hobi and I were friends before Tinashe came along." Her mother began to frown "I still don't know about this. I have an awful feeling this is not a good idea." Hyeonji came forward to give her mother a hug. "Ma, stop worrying. I'm a big girl now and quite capable of looking after myself.

At five to eight, Hyeonji was standing in her bedroom window, watching for Hobi's car. She doubted he would be late. Surprisingly, punctuality was now one of his virtues. He hadn't always been like that. When Hyeonji had first met Hoseok, and he'd been a computer-mad adolescent seventeen, she could not count the number of times he'd been late for things. Time had a little meaning for him once his concentration was focused on his latest games or graphic design.

Hyeonji was about to turn away from the window when Hoseok's bright red car came up the hill and turned into their driveway. Right on time. She shook her head in acceptance that Hoseok had changed in many ways. He was no longer the forgetful boy next door. He was an exceptionally sharp businessman. Ambitious. Brilliant. Successful.

Way out of Hyeonji's league. Sighing, she bent to switch her bedside lamp, and was about to leave the room when she hesitated, walking back to where she could watch Hoseok, unobserved from now the darkened window. He sat there for several seconds, combing his hair, though not with undue vanity. He didn't even glance into the rear-vision or side-mirror, just swept the comb quickly through both sides and down the back before slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

At least in that Hoseok hadn't changed. He'd never been vain about his looks, and still wasn't. There was nothing of the peacock in him. Yet after all that he looked good. A quiver rippled down Hyeonji's spine as she watched the object of her secret obsession unfold his elegant frame from behind the wheel. He was dressed in the same blue jeans, navy top and a cream linen jacket. He stretched as he stood up, and another deeper quiver reverberated all through her.

For the first time it struck Hyeonji just how intensely sexual her love for Hoseok had become with the passing of the years. Her more innocent school girl crush had long since graduated to a full-on physical passion filled with needs and yearnings which would not be denied. More and more she dreamt of making love with Hoseok, rather than just loving him. She would lie in bed at night and think about what it would like to kiss him and touch him; how he would look, naked and erect; how he would feel, deep inside her. She blushed in the darkness, her blood pounding through her body, her head whirling with a wild mixture of shame and excitement. Was she wicked to think about such things?

She didn't feel wicked. She felt driven and compelled, oblivious to everything but wanting Hoseok with a want that had no conscience, only the most merciless and agonizing frustration. How she wished she were dazzlingly beautiful, with the sort of body no man could resist. A bitter longing flooded Hyeonji as she watched Hoseok confidently stride towards her front door, his dark hair shining like the stars in the dark night. Her grip on the curtains tightened and inevitably her thoughts turned to the dreaded Tinashe.

How often did he sleep with her?

She wondered enviously. Hyeonji knew he didn't live with her, but that didn't mean they didn't share most of their nights either at his or her place.

Was she great in bed? What was it she did to him that kept Hobi interested in her for six whole months?

Another awful possibility snuck into Hyeonji's mind. Twisting her heart and stomach. The front door rang, the sound jarring Hyeonji's suddenly stretched nerves she resisted rushing down stairs and her thoughts still simmering with resentment at the situation. She should have not agreed to go out with Hoseok tonight, not even for coffee. She was only torturing herself.

She heard her mother slide the door back from the family room then walk with small steps along the plastic strip which protected the hallway carpet. The front door creaked slightly on opening. "Hello Hobi"." Zil said with stiff politeness. "Hello, Mrs. Kang, You're looking well."

Hyeonji listened to their small chat for a minute or two before gathering herself and coming down stairs glad now that she hadn't made a super human effort with her appearance. Even so, her mother looked up and down at her as though searching for some hit of secret decadence. Hyeonji doubted if even the most devious mind could find anything to criticize her in her knee-length black skirt and simple white knitted top, even if the latter did have a lacey design and pretty pearl buttons down the front. Her choice of jewelry could hardly give rise to speculation. The rest of her was equally sedate. Skin colored pantyhose, medium length black pumps, hair up in its usual knot and no make-up on except coral lipstick. Even her underwear was sedate. But only Superman with his X-ray vision could see that. Not that the sight of her modest white crossover bra and cotton briefs could would send any man's heart aflutter.

Hyeonji was at a loss to understand then why Hoseok himself frowned up at her as she came down the stairs. She had no illusions that he was struck by some previously untapped appreciation of her beauty. So why was he giving her the once-over with slightly surprised look in his eyes? Her curiosity was not satisfied till they were alone and walking along the curving front path towards the parked car.

"You know, Hyeonji," he said, "You've lost quite a bit of weight lately have you?"

Hyeonji clenched her teeth down hard in her jaw. She'd been losing weight steadily for two years and had been this size for more than three months. Hadn't he noticed before this moment? No of course not. For the last six months his eyes had all been for Tinashe.

"Not lately I haven't," she replied coolly. "I've been this weight for quite a while."

"Oh? I didn't notice" says Hoseok whilst scratching his nape.

Tell me something new....

Hyeonji thought tartly. She felt piqued that there wasn't the smallest change in him that she didn't notice. She knew whenever he had his hair cut; when he bought a new jacket; when he changed women. "Are you sure Tinashe won't mind you're taking me out tonight?" she was driven to ask, barely controlling the lemony flavor in her voice. "Tinashe and I are having a trial separation," he bit out. "Oh?" Hyeonji battled to look perfectly normal. Difficult when your stomach had just done a back-flip. "You guys fought or something?"

"Or something" he muttered.

"You don't want to tell me about it?" she asked. His smile was wry as he wrenched open the passenger door. "Not tonight Hyeonji. I don't want to spoil my mood by thinking about women."

"But I'm a woman, Hoseok!" she pointed archly. "Yeah, but you're different. I don't really think of you like that. You're my friend. Come on. Get in. I'm going to drive us out, it's a lovely night for a walk along the beach."

Which it was. Clear and warm, with stars sparkling in the night sky. A night for lovers. Hyeonji tried not to think about that. Masochism was not one of her vices. Or maybe it was?

"But I'm not dressed for the beach," she protested when Hoseok climbed in the wheel. "I have heels and stockings on for one thing."

Hoseok in turn laughed "You can take them off in the car," he said without turning a hair. Is indifference to her undressing in front of him was depressing in the extreme. She could just imagine what would happen if Tinashe stated stripping in the passenger seat, wriggling her pouty bottom while she unpeeled her stockings down those long, tanned legs of hers. Hoseok wouldn't concentrate on his driving for long. Hyeonji had an awful feeling that she could sit stark naked in front of Hoseok and all he would do was ask her if she was cold.

"I hope you don't think you're going to worm your way out of buying me coffee!" she told him while he reversed out of the driveway. "I was going to order a big rich slice of cake with it. You've no idea, Hobi, what food Mom has been feeding me ever since Dad died. She's become a "fat-free forever" nutcase!" as Hyeonji evades thoughts of Tinashe.

"No worse than having a mother who wants to feed you up," he countered dryly. "Every time I come home, Mother says I'm getting too thin, then come out the pastries and chips and God knows what else."

"You're not too thin," Hyeonji said, "You're just right."

He smiled over at her and her heart lurched. He was heart-stoppingly handsome when he smiled. Just as bright as the sun. "You know you're good for me Hyeonji. You always say the right thing. And you always do the right thing" he added meaningfully "You put me to shame today. I never remember your birthday and you always remember mine. So if you open the glove box in front of you there's a little something there which I hope will make up for all those other forgotten occasions."

Before Hyeonji could even start to protest she was cut off by Hoseok "And don't tell me I shouldn't have, "He went on "And don't tell me it's too expensive. I can afford it. Fact is, I can afford pretty well whatever I want these days. That computer game I told you about some time back has just gone on the worldwide market and it's going to make me a multimillionaire."

"Oh Hoseok! That's wonderful." Hyeonji exclaimed in excitement for her friend. "Maybe," he said dryly. "I'm beginning to find out being rich and successful isn't all it's cracked up to be. Except when it comes to buying my best friend something really nice," he added with a warm smile "Now, come on, go on, rip the paper off and open it up. I'm dying to see what you think."

Hyeonji then just did that, and gasped "Hoseok! You shouldn't have!"

"I thought I told you not to say that," he said ruefully. "I was in the jewelry store for hours this afternoon trying to decide. In the end I settled for something simple, but solid. Like you"

Hyeonji tried to take his words as a compliment, but somehow some of the pleasure of his gift dissolved at that point. She lifted the heavy gold chain necklace from its green velvet bed, laying across one palm while she slowly traced the heavy oval links with the index finger of her right hand.

Simple and solid. Like me...

"You don't like it?" Hoseok asked alarmed. Hyeonji heard the disappointment in his voice and forced herself to throw him a bright smile. "Don't be silly, I love it."

Chapter 04

Masterlist

[shadowmcfly]

Can I share a story with you guys? Something very special happened on Saturday of Calgary Comic and Entertainment Expo.

A bit of background: I volunteer for The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research through Team Fox with dear friends Oliver and Terry of ToTheFuture.org. When I can, I join them at cons to help out as Marty at their booth with the DeLorean. It's the most important and meaningful thing I get to do with the costume.

So, here's a story.

Friday was a great day raising funds at the booth, and little did I know what exactly was going to happen Saturday.

The first thing that happened that day that led to something amazing was that I missed Michael's first autograph session. I walked up with my two tickets I had gotten taken care of in ADVANCE, and was told to come back at 4.

I was pissed but let it go, because then I could go ahead with my plan of one of those autographs being on our new photo together. I was hoping I could get my behind the scenes photo signed at the earlier time, then go back again for my 2nd. I wanted a few more seconds during that autograph time to connect that first time vs the rush and go of the photo ops.

That was the first divine thing that happened that lead to the vest. Getting turned away from that earlier time.

Even though I met Michael in 2016, I was in line for our photo trying to shake off the nervousness I felt. One of the staff members looks at me and says, "YOU have to wait in line?". I laugh and say yes. When it was my time, Michael looked at me very warmly and I think my eyes were wide as saucers.

I ask him if I can put my arm on his shoulder and he's ok with it.

"Let's do one of these." He says, and quickly makes the watch gesture I know all too well.

Oh yeah. Let's go. I've waited years for this.

Click.

I spend so much of my time making that shocked expression, but I couldn't do it for probably the first time ever. I was too happy. I smiled and beamed like the happy fool I was. Looking back, I kinda wish I did it, because that would have been hilarious. But I let the Master take the reigns. I thanked him and left, eyes wide and whispering, "Holy shit." under my breath over and over.

My duo photo op with Michael and Chris was about 40min later, so I queued back up in line.

When my time came I took a moment to be completely and utterly star struck by looking at Marty and Doc here in front of me. What even IS that??? How can you process that???

Michael warmly regards me.

"Hi again!" He says.

"Hi Michael, hi Chris!!!".

I ask Chris if I can put my arm around him, and he says I can. Michael looks at me talking to Chris in that moment.

Click.

I thank them and go whooping all the way to pick up my printed photo.

I go back to help at the booth until that 4pm autograph time.

The line is like being packed into a can of sardines, and the staff member laughs and remarks that I'm number 100 in line.

There is a strict NO PHOTO policy. You can't take a photo of Michael signing.

I have two photos for Michael to sign: our brand new photo together and a rare behind the scenes photo that I loved so much when I saw it, I asked my friend if I could get it printed and signed on the promise I wouldn't post it to social media, ect.

My time comes. One of Michael's handlers sees the behind the scenes photo.

"I've never seen that one before."

And takes a photo of Michael signing it. The second divine thing that happens.

I panic, but turn my attention to Michael quickly because I've got a few seconds. Go.

He's signing and as he is, I say:

"Hi Michael. I just wanted to say that it's an absolute honor using this costume to volunteer for your Foundation."

Michael looks at me.

"Thank you. I certainly appreciate that."

I thank him and leave, slipping back into the booth.

But the photo.

Would it have been the worst thing ever if it got posted somehow? Probably not. But I can't shake it.

I tell Terry what happened.

She walks me over, warmly greets everyone, and explains the situation. The photo is deleted, and as we're here getting this sorted, Michael is... there.

He's right there.

The line is gone. The only people there are the handlers, staff, and Terry and I.

Somehow... Michael was still there even though the line was gone.

Michael looks at me. Bright blue eyes. Recognizes me.

He's sitting but puts his hands on the table and stands.

"Your jacket."

"Wh.... what??"

"Your jacket... your vest. I wanna sign your vest."

"Wh....???" My eyes WIDE.

I take it off, it's laying front side up in front of him on the table.

I see he's going to sign the front and I remember I can form words if I try.

"Oh... oh uhhhhh Michael? I'm so so sorry but uh, could you sign the inside??? I use this a lot for charity work."

Oh my GOD. Who the hell do I think I am?!?!?! I panicked because I needed to keep using that vest.

I squeak out my name, when he asks, I think Terry echos me because she's much more composed and professional than I am right now.

With an elegant swoop of a black sharpie, he signs the vest. Right side on the inside.

I think I squeaked out a thank you or was just mute by that point, I don't remember.

Michael disappears and the most shell-shocked I've ever been, look at the vest.

It has my name on it.

He signed my name.

"Shannon

Love,

Michael J. Fox"