#also. that bit about the ocean being angry???? love that shit. incredible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doctorho · 3 years ago

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!!!!! reading this was the literal highlight of my weekend this was so so good (also hey guys did you know that 30 tags is the limit? you can’t write more than 30 tags. i just learned that.)

anyway good soup

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 13: He Who Fights Monsters

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Broskis I'm sorry this one took like over a month ektjherkjth and also this one is not very proofread so sorry if it's kind of bad. Also this fic is officially over 100k words lol. Oh also we still have a discord, lemme know if u wanna join hekrthrek jt

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: @edenstarkk @chosomybelovedcurse @dedicated2viktor @doctorho @yeehawbvby @arcaneparx @the-lake-is-calling @beeblybub

Mentions of: Nothing I think?

Triggers: Everything from the last chapter is discussed and recalled here, so… that. Also, cops, cop questioning, painkillers, drinks being drugged, booze, vomit, vertigo, guns, and language

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark. And you’re a monster.”

It’s funny. You’ve heard that word a lot - “monster.” You were familiar with every usage of the word before you could load a canon by yourself; from the scariest beasts of the deep to the ruthless criminals lording over your island. You thought that you were immune to its impact.

You were wrong.

Adrenaline fanned from your heart to your fingertips, telling you to move, fight, run, or for gods’ sake do something because you couldn’t take this straight on. It didn’t matter if you were the monster or the innocent, you could not stay trapped in this stupid, shitty loop.

And suddenly, you understood why you’d come back.

There he was, narrowing his eyes at you like a viper. But you clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose, willing away the hollowing feeling in your chest that tried to tell you this was just a bad dream.

You would show him what monsters could do.

*****

When Viktor woke, his pulse was eating him alive.

He tilted his head, and a seedy whine pounded behind his eyes as his dress shirt pinched his arms. The blinding, sterile light kept trying to infiltrate the cool oasis of his closed eyelids.

Hangover? No, it shouldn’t be this bad. What had he even-

Oh. Right. Enforcers. He remembered those. He could recognize the outlines of their helmets even through the blurry snowfall. But there was someone else... a warm arm around his waist that didn’t let go until medical personnel had whisked him away. That must have been you.

You- where were you?

He sat up and opened his eyes.

Through the ringing in his ears he could hear heels clacking in the hallway and sweat sloshing inside his clothes. Tender bruises and stinging cuts made themselves known as his body woke up. The headache only thickened.

He was in Piltover Medical Center, laid out like roadkill on a clean, stiff mattress in their emergency clinic. It was brighter than it had any right to be, with crisp white walls, shiny medical equipment, and humming fluorescent lights.

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the wave of nausea.

“Don’t fight it,” Jayce said from his left, “happened to me too. If you’re gonna vomit, better to get it over with.”

“Good morning as well,” Viktor’s throat was dry.

He dragged his legs over the side as a fuzzy column of brown skin nudged the trashcan towards him. He clamped its sides and nearly fell in as he threw up.

Acid seared his tongue and pungency burned through the congestion in his sinuses; welcome back to reality, they said.

Something glass clinked. Viktor hung his head over the trashcan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and permitting himself a minute to regret waking up.

“Caitlyn came by, but we were both still out,” Jayce set a glass of water on Viktor’s side of their shared nightstand, “If she heard, then everyone else probably did too.”

Finally, Viktor willed his head up and got a look at him. He was on the other bed in the room, shirtless, with his legs stretched out and his journal open on his lap. Bandages capped his shoulder and a dark purple cloud festered around his eye. His hair was, oddly, the most surprising; spiked, sweaty, and overall messier than Viktor had ever seen it.

Viktor couldn’t imagine that he looked much better.

“How long have you been up?” Viktor gulped the water, noticing one of his own notebooks and a note from Caitlyn perched on the nightstand.

“Just a half hour. Enforcers came by and asked me some stuff. Said they’ll come back for you.”

Viktor propped his elbows on his knees.

“Did they say anything else?”

“About what?”

As if there was anything Viktor would be wondering about besides the third human life that was terribly injured.

He clicked his tongue, too tired to figure out if Jayce was playing dumb or if he’d actually forgotten about you. But Jayce wasn’t the forgetful type, and he didn’t play dumb unless the situation was dire. Something was wrong here, but Viktor wouldn’t press him. Not yet.

“About anything. I’m still not sure what exactly, eh... happened.”

“Yeah. Neither are they.”

Viktor hated how unclear his picture of last night was. The drugs and the booze already wiped half of it from hi smind, and the remaining flashes of consciousness were focused on the most irrelevant things.

Your hands loading that gun. Your eyes screwing shut as you bit your tongue. Your hot breath against his cheek as you checked his head for any damage.

“Well, at least give me something to work with,” Viktor grumbled, falling back onto the mattress.

Jayce fidgeted with his fingers, squeezing them anxiously.

“All they’ve got so far is a timeline. We were drinking, those guys came, at some point we were drugged, the bar cleared out, I went into the alleyway and got the shit beat out of me while they were getting ready to haul you away in the bar.”

Jayce looked down.

“And then?”

“Well, y’know,” Jayce swallowed, “then my... assailants got, uh, taken out. Then yours did. Then one of mine did... again. Apparently the autopsy of that last guy was, uh... well, anyway, then the Enforcers showed up.”

“Yeah. Some help they were,” Viktor paused, deciding that now would be the time to press, since Jayce was clearly intent on pretending you had never existed, “and then we came here?”

“Yup.”

“Just us?”

“In here? Yeah.”

“In here as in this room, or in here as in PMC?”

“...this room.”

“Jayce.”

“Yeah?” Jayce gave him a strained smile.

“Where is Penny?”

Jayce’s entire chest deflated when he sighed.

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask about that sooner or later. But, listen, I wanna talk to you about something first.”

“Why are you being so evasive? What... what happened?” Viktor raised a stern eyebrow, “Is she-”

“No, she’s not dead, Vik. She’s fine - in one of the other rooms. But please- humor me, will you?” Jayce’s puppy dog eyes were indomitable, “And then you can go see her.”

Viktor leaned back on his hands, studying his partner. The fog cleared from his head and he realized that Jayce was shaking. Every part of his body twitched or trembled or tightened, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and starting to crumble under the weight.

“What’s on your mind?” Viktor asked softly.

“I...” Jayce wrung his fingers around his bracelet, “I think we should put Hextech on hold for a bit.”

The dryness in the corners of Viktor’s eyes cracked when he widened them.

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yes, I know,” Jayce’s fidgeting was persistent, “but things have changed.”

“How so?”

Jayce frowned.

“How s- Vik, you were nearly kidnapped last night, and I was beaten within an inch of my life. That’s how so,” he exhaled, “and don’t give me that ‘the lives of people are endangered every day’ story.”

“But they are,” Viktor’s blood pressure rose, “and we have just made a major breakthrough. You really wish to stop now?”

“What if... we’re not so lucky next time?” Jayce winced as he briefly lose control of his volume, shying away from his point.

“It was not luck that we survived,” Viktor said, “it was Penny’s intervention.”

“Yeah, about that...” Jayce gave up on looking Viktor in the eye, “the Enforcers aren’t as, uh, convinced as we are.”

Viktor scoffed, pushing his hand through his hair. Of course they weren’t, gods forbid someone different did anything in this damn city.

“She’s not in jail again, is she?”

“No. Mel got her bail...”

“But she was going to be?!” Viktor barked, furrowing his brow, “How could they possibly justify that?”

“They think it’s weird that Penny was the only one who wasn’t drugged, and... I mean, I can’t really say that they’re wr-”

“Stop,” Viktor put his hand up, “you cannot believe that Penny is responsible for the attack?”

“No! Obviously not,” Jayce splayed his fingers out, “I don’t... look, I like Penny too, okay? I don’t think she did anything malicious on purpose. I’m just trying to tell you that we’re involved in something really dangerous here and this goes to show how little we know about it. Five people are dead.”

“You care more about your own security than all of the Undercity or Ionia.”

“Do not put words into my mouth. It’s one thing to be dedicated, but we can’t just go putting ourselves in danger. If we die, then Hextech is gone forever,” Jayce said darkly.

“But we didn’t die-”

“Because we have a fucking murderer on our staff! That’s not a good thing,” Jayce gestured violently at him.

Viktor parted his lips cautiously. The crack of Jayce’s voice, the unsteadiness in his usually confident forearms, the peakiness baked into his expression as he looked through Viktor - Viktor hadn’t seen Jayce like this before, but there was no doubting it.

“You’re... you’re afraid of her,” Viktor said.

“I- not of her,” Jayce sniffled, “just... of what she did. And I know she had to, I know,” he scolded himself, “but...”

Jayce rubbed his nose. The only other time Viktor had seen Jayce’s eyes get this watery was when he’d laughed too hard. The contrast between then and now was sobering.

“I keep seeing them,, Vik,” Jayce confessed, head in his hands, “the bodies, I keep- they’re in my head and they won’t leave and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

VIktor only had scraps of what they looked like - their body fluids weaving through the cobblestones in the street and melted flesh peeling from metal bones.

“I refuse to let us end up like that,” Jayce’s throat trembled.

The mental image was there before Viktor could stop it. His partner, his friend, his best friend, with his throat slit; the only moving part of him left was the blood oozing from the thin red line.

Viktor knew that wouldn’t happen. He knew that he had nothing to worry about, and even if he did, worrying rarely helped anything. He knew that.

He also knew that no logic could stop the sinking feeling in his chest when he saw Jayce break down.

Against his better judgment and moral impulse, he grabbed his cane from against the night stand, nudged Jayce’s knee, and quietly said that “we can slow down Hextech if you’d like,” all the while fighting the frustration simmering at his core.

Neither he or Jayce were particularly up for conversation after that, so he left to find you.

He didn’t even want to see you anymore, but in this awful mood he was in, he was bound to snap at someone, and he’d rather it be the person who already thought he was a waste of space than Jayce or an Enforcer.

In fact, Viktor found that he wouldn’t mind snapping at you right now, though by the gods he could not fathom why.

Perhaps it was that he knew you’d only be mildly inconvenienced by Hextech’s hiatus. You weren’t trying to hide it - you’d made it very clear that you thought their goals were nothing more than a foolish boon to their egos. Viktor had long since decided that he didn’t care about what you thought as long as you did your work, now, it made his blood boil.

Of course you did what you had to. Of course you planned those attacks. Of course you never meant for things to end up this way.

And, of course, it had to end with Jayce being traumatized and Hextech being needlessly stalled.

He was being unfair. You didn’t deserve this. Not after everything you’d done.

But he couldn’t help the feeling.

A similarly confusing feeling bubbled in his chest when he floated in the doorway to your hospital room. You were still, fast asleep, though you wouldn’t be moving even if you were awake with your wrist cuffed to the bed like that.

And you looked so small.

Not physically - if anything, the swelling in your nose made you look bigger. They’d straightened it and kept it in place with a loose bandaged, but the darkened, irritated skin and indigo bruises pooling beneath your eyes betrayed the nastiness of the initial impact. Your left ear was swaddled in bandages, still very much half of its original size. No essential parts of the ear seemed to be damaged but it looked... well, it looked awful. The rest of the damage was covered by a standard issue PMC blanket.

He’d never seen you sleep before. Your overflowing personality, the one that made you the godsdamned force of nature that could bring anything to its knees, was kept at bay by the thoughtless rise and fall of your chest. The greasy hair and injuries and bloody clothes were a part of your image, but without you being awake to act the part, you just looked like a person who had been through a lot.

You and no one else against the world. That could make anyone feel small.

Viktor’s face soured at the thought of your self image. You chose to wear your violence and selfishness and apathy as badges of honor, along with your hatred of Viktor. And he was so ready to look past all of that, just for last night, because... of something.

And then, somewhere in the cocktail of anger and confusion and fondness, it clicked.

You weren’t thinking about him when you saved his life, you were just being yourself.

You didn’t care about Viktor. And why the hell would you, if the rest of Piltover couldn’t be bothered? You were becoming like them - helping Viktor because he helped you and suited your needs, not because you believed in him, his ideals, or Hextech. Viktor should’ve been used to this.

It was only human. And that’s all you were. A Bilgewater spitfire with a deep longing for the world that she came from, jumping at the first excuse to indulge in it.

Viktor could only blame himself. And it ached as he considered just how desperate he must’ve been to look for deeper meaning in what you did.

“‘Scuse me, sir.”

Viktor jumped. An Enforcer, with a cinderblock jaw and wispy sideburns, materialized next to him, his palms out.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” he smiled apologetically, “I was just wonderin’ if you were the, uh, other victim of the attack last night? I ain’t on the case, I’m just here to take her cuffs off” he chuckled, jingling his keys.

“Yes,” Viktor smoothed out his wrinkled pants, “yes, that’s me.”

“Ah. Well, good to see you on your feet then,” he slapped Viktor in the back with his sweaty hand and turned to observe you, “I heard she was quite the killer.”

You gave no false pretense about what you were. Building you up into something you weren’t was his mistake.

But now he had to see you for what you were.

“She was,” Viktor said, “brutal. Without remorse. Didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.”

He didn’t give you a final glance as he parted from the Enforcer, determined to not make that mistake again.

*****

Unlike rain, which evaporated quickly in the sun, snow stuck around. After you were discharged from the hospital, you were in a completely different Piltover. The air hovering above the smooth white blanket was clean, numb, and slow, entirely jarring after everything else had happened so fast.

Nothing felt real, outside in the world or inside your head.

But you didn’t really mind the effect. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to use the good painkillers into tomorrow morning, after all the alcohol was out of your system, unless you wanted to throw up your guts onto the street. If the hurt subsided, then you could stay in the unreality until then.

Or maybe not.

“C’mon, you paid my bail,” you reluctantly plopped into the spindly chair, “and it’s not because we’re great friends. So what’s the catch?”

Coming into the warmth of Mel’s office just as you grew accustomed to the outside made the red in her paintings eerie. Though you normally liked her office, one of the few places truly rich in color in her marble palace, the contrast with the blank slate of Piltovian winter reminded you that it was just as manufactured as everything else.

“There’s no ‘catch,’” Mel folded her hands, “as an investor in Hextech, it’s my job to look out for the best interests of the company. I think we’ve all learned by now that having you in jail waiting for a sham trial is not productive.”

“So there’s nothing that you want from me, then?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mel picked at her nail, “I understand that the Enforcer’s narrative of last night’s events is inaccurate. I’m not surprised - Enforcers are only interested in maintaining the image of Piltover for the people of Piltover.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Maybe,” she eyed you curiously, “but I’m also interested in the truth. Which is something we share, isn’t it?”

It was rare that your goals aligned with powerful people, and though you were becoming more practiced in it the longer you stayed in Piltover, trepidation stalked every offer that someone like Mel gave you. If enemies can be temporary, then so are allies, and sooner or later, the good will of someone who does anything to be above others will run out.

But she could help you. She could help Jayce and Viktor. Regardless of the motive, you needed that.

As sure as that knowing smirk dug further into her cheek, you knew that there was no good will here; just business. Good, you thought, at least you understand each other.

“Fine,” you rolled your neck, “so, what, you want me to start from the beginning?”

And you did.

You rolled your head back and stared at the ceiling lights like you were in a therapist’s office, and told her the entire story as it actually happened, making especially biting remarks at the Enforcer’s faulty logic along the way.

They were claiming that, not only were you the one who had drugged Viktor and Jayce, but that you had pre-planned the entire incident in order to murder five sailors on shore leave. Their “evidence” was that, not only were you the sole undrugged person, but that once you were aware of the drug’s chemical makeup via Jayce and Viktor’s blood test, it was a substance you recognized - Whalefall, something that literally every Rat recognized.

Yet, you still had no explanation for why everything happened the way that it did; why you weren’t drugged, why they were after Viktor, why they beat the shit out of Jayce, why anything. The Enforcers didn’t really have one either, but their blanket appeal to Piltover’s xenophobia combined with their “trustworthiness” was enough to negate that.

Even if they hadn’t actually seen anything happen.

“Honestly, if that’s their response time, I’m surprised any crime in Piltover gets dealt with,” you grumbled.

“That’s not their response time,” Mel said, “they’re usually much faster. But there’s a silver lining - inadequate Enforcer response is probably going to be the main argument for your innocence in the trial.”

“Really?” you crossed your arms, “What about Jayce and Viktor’s testimony? I... well, I haven’t actually talked to them yet, but shouldn’t that be exonerating?”

“They’re not using their testimony.”

“What?!” you sat forward, “Why the hell not?! That was like... the one thing I had going for me.”

“Well, the real answer is that it destroys any chance of making you the scapegoat, but what the Enforcers are saying is that the drugs found in their system make their memories unreliable.”

“But- but that’s bullshit,” you snapped, “Everyone knows that Whalefall makes it hard to remember stuff, but it doesn’t make up false memories. Anything they can recall is still true.”

You’d already spent too much time wondering if Viktor recalled how close you were when you gave him a once over. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassing or exciting or what, all you knew was that the image of him, half dazed, but eyes full of reverence that no one had ever given you before, made your stomach flip.

“I’m sure, but that’s not how this game is played,” Mel said grimly, moving her hands below the desk, “I have some things of yours.”

Your face perked as she rattled inside the drawer, returning to the surface with your knife, ruefully caked in dry blood, and a silver pistol. Oh shit - the pistol.

“Gods, do they just let anyone in the evidence locker?” you grumbled.

“This pistol doesn’t belong to you,” Mel observed, picking it up loosely, as though it were a museum artifact and not an item designed to take a life, “why did you have it?”

“Heh, you’re already doing better than the Enforcers,” you said, “what gave it away?”

“You’re too poor to afford this.”

“Thanks.”

She was right, of course. The model was, at the very least, unique; you’d never quite seen a gun that looked or behaved like it before. It was pure silver, with svelte engravings curling from the handle to the barrel, and while it looked like a revolver, with a rotating cylinder in the center, there were no slots to load bullets, leading you to believe it functioned like a pistol.

“I guess it was just too interesting to leave,” you shrugged, “Damn thing didn’t fire when I tried to shoot it, so I wanted to take it apart and see what was going on.”

“I see,” she brushed her thumb on the barrel, “and this knife was already yours?”

“Yeah.”

You reached out, but, your fingers inches away from the cold metal, Mel’s hand smoothly came down on top of it.

“Actually... there is a catch for this one.”

You looked at her from under your brow, exhausted from the theatrics. She noticed, but she continued coyly without a care.

“The Enforcers get in the way of Hextech’s work and have done a fairly poor job thus far at resolving this pirate issue. Yet, now more than ever, Hextech needs a guardian,” she delicately set the pistol on the table, “One that is equipped to handle both problems.”

“Oh, I see,” your eyelids went slack, “listen, I appreciate the offer, but, like, I was barely qualified to deal with what just happened. Hell, I almost left Jayce and Viktor, I only decided to come back at the last minute, and even then, I got...” you gestured to your face, “all of this. So, thank you, but no thank you. It was a one time thing.”

“Well, if you’d consider making it not a one time thing, I’d be willing to help,” she was toying with the hilt of your knife, yet somehow kept her digits clean of any blood.

There was nothing to consider, but you were hungry for more information anyway.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to get those portals on Ionian shores as soon as possible,” she said frankly, “Figure out what’s going on, stop it, and ensure the safety of Jayce and Viktor in the meantime. You’ll have my full legal and financial support for any issues that arise, and, depending on how successful you are, there will be additional compensation.”

“I don’t need more money,” you lied, because everyone could always use more money, “the stipend is enough.”

“Compensation need not be money. I understand you’re having trouble finding a permanent residence due to your... reputation. With my connections, that would be an easy fix,” she offered the handle of your knife to you with a crafty smile, “but it’s your decision, of course.”

Damn her.

You were smart enough to know that no one really escaped the rat race. People would always, on some level, do dubious shit to survive, because there would always be people willing to put them in that position for exploitation.

But you thought that you were done with violence. Sure, it happened once in a while, because that’s just life, but you were supposed to be free of the cycle; your hands, attached to strings that were puppeteered by someone else, dripping with blood.

Hell, even last night, delirious with lack of sleep as the Enforcers kept you awake long into the night to try and “force” a confession, you’d been caught in an unfamiliar emotional deluge. You weren’t one to regret things, but as the sting of alcohol cleared other people’s viscera from your wounds, you caught the stray, remorseful wish that things had gone better. That you didn’t have to kill five people, that the Enforcers believed you, that this was something everyone could reasonably move on from.

But you were expendable. Those pirates would’ve killed you first if you let them, those Enforcers would toss you into jail if you let them, and this godsdamned pit of brutality would drag you asunder forever if you kept letting it.

The blade of your knife gleamed through all of the damage.

Money wasn’t the only currency you’d need to stay here in Piltover. If you didn’t take Mel’s offer, you’d end up taking someone else’s sooner or later, lest you face the long, slow death of the life you were trying to set up here.

Even with allies, you were still alone. You were the only one that could make things work, and sometimes, that required discomfort.

Reluctantly, you accepted the handle of your knife.

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

“Excellent,” Mel’s grin widened, impassively watching as you scraped the pistol off of her desk and shoved both weapons away.

“We’ll be in touch,” you stood brusquely, pushing the chair out and stretching your legs as you approached the doorway.

“One more question,” Mel crooned, waiting for you to turn back around and face her before continuing, “why did you come back for Jayce and Viktor?”

The warmth in her office became sickening; you were trapped inside of a hotbox slowly increasing in temperature. The only breath of fresh air was the blinding white light that stretched from the large window behind her. She and her gold sat in it like a throne.

Each painting stared at you, all painfully aware that you had no answer.

“Let me ask you something instead,” your boldness was unconvincing, “why is the Noxian so concerned with getting these portals to Ionia?”

Mel looked away from you, pursing her lips and considering one of the larger paintings on her wall. It depicted a Noxian ship from behind, heading towards the sun and away from the desolate land they’d ravaged. The shadowed backs of the sails were the only ones in her entire room that reflected authentic blood red.

After a minute, she cocked her head to the side in defeat.

“Touche,” she said, “perhaps we both have something to answer for.”

You prayed that was the end of the conversation and scuttled out the door.

You weren’t even trying to be standoffish, just struck with the overwhelming need to use the bathroom. You’d been holding in this piss since you’d left the hospital.

Shambling through the corridors, without the time or mental capacity to admire them, you spun the question around in your head - why did you come back? You remembered crouching on the parapet, greeting the moon fondly and preparing to make your daring escape, until the gut-wrenching sound of Jayce getting ripped to shreds sucked you into the fray.

There were obvious reasons.

Jayce and Viktor were your crew, and you need them to sail the ship. You’d had allies before, and occasionally, you’d even saved them at great personal risk to yourself. But you weren’t one to jump in and take a non-lethal hit for someone else - that is to say, you weren’t stupid.

Because they weren’t going to die. Viktor’s captors had told you that explicitly, and if they wanted Jayce dead, then it would’ve happened within the first five minutes of their ambush. Both of them would’ve lived had you not stepped in.

You always had a reason for defending people, but you didn’t have a reason for that night.

You’d had an impulse bouncing around in your head, telling you that if you didn’t act, you’d regret it. It wasn’t the raw, cold-blooded instinct that helped you survive, nor the ferocious sixth sense that guided you through battle. It was a small, gentle urgency, older than any of the beasts living under your skin.

What the hell was it really, though?

At last, you spotted the cool, tiled floor and white hand towels of the fanciest bathroom you’d ever seen.

After you were relieved, you washed your hands, and unwittingly saw yourself for the first time since last night in the mirror.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. You looked as bad as you felt; the bags under your eyes were replaced with crescent shaped bruises, your nose ached every time you breathed, and- and your ear. The bottom half of your left ear was gone.

You clicked your tongue.

You could still hear out of it fine. That was why you’d nearly forgotten about it in the first place. And it was just cosmetic. You shyly caressed the bandage stump. Your earlobe had disappeared into thin air and was never coming back.

Sailors lose limbs all the time. You knew this. In fact, you hated that it was the first thing on your mind as you inspected the damage. You hated that you could fucking smell the saltwater being lobbed on the fresh cut as the ship’s surgeon told you not to touch it. You hated how you would go out on deck and commiserate with everyone else who had lost something far worse than you.

You hated how you already missed the cheap earrings you wore.

Here you were, in the center of progress and luxury and culture, but you’d never looked more like a dirty fucking Rat.

Thankfully, you had no time to dwell on it.

*****

Viktor was always amazed at how easily Jayce could fake ease.

“We have plans to shut down the test circuits in the city. Anything else will remain locked in the lab until further notice,” he told the Council, unwavering.

Viktor dreaded returning to the lab. He liked to think that he was levelheaded, but he knew that, at his core, he was a slave to his reckless, passionate impulses, and nothing ignited that like his work. To have to look it all in the eye and tell it to wait was torture.

“It appears we’re all on the same page, then,” Heimerdinger said.

“They would know better how to regulate themselves than any of us would,” Shoola added, “I am satisfied with this course of action for the company. However, its personnel - and potentially, the rest of Piltover - remain at risk.”

“One of them is the risk,” Salo gave a pointed stare.

It took Viktor a second to remember that he didn’t need to swallow his pride and hold his ground. He followed Salo’s beady eyes back down to your unamused deadpan, bathed in fresh sunlight. You were the risk in the moment.

Even though you bothered to clean up and generally look like you hadn’t just been thrown off a mountain, one could only look so good two days after near death. Jayce had opted to use makeup so his bruises wouldn’t show, exactly because he feared having any imperfections in front of the Council. It was one of the thousands of ways they could brand you as the other.

In spite of that, you wore the battle-hardened mask of injuries with complete sincerity.

Viktor wasn’t sure what to make of that, and he had no interest in ever finding out. Perhaps for the same reason he dreaded returning to the lab; this situation required detachment.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you yet.

When he entered the Council room, you were sitting at the table, discussing something with Jayce. Viktor wanted to interrupt so Jayce wouldn’t have the burden of pretending to be calm for the entire conversation, but when he sat down next to his partner and you peered at him expectantly, he mumbled a “good morning” to his feet and feigned interest in the handle of his cane.

“She’s awaiting trial,” Mel said, “we cannot make any determination until she’s been given a chance in court.”

“While I’m in favor of a fair judicial process, we can’t afford to wait,” Kiramann said, “something must be done sooner rather than later. And when it comes down to the safety of Piltover or the legal rights of a foreign criminal, the choice is clear.”

Viktor looked at you. You looked at Jayce. Jayce looked back at you.

You stood up.

“You don’t have to choose between those,” you began in a languid voice, “and you shouldn’t. Focusing on my alleged crimes is exactly what these pirates would want you to do - waste time on a false lead instead of addressing the greater threat.”

You waited for objections, but to yours and Viktor’s surprise, none came.

“You have a proposition?” Heimerdinger raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I do,” you placed your hands on the table, next to the stack of papers,” I looked over the logs from the night of the attack-”

“And how did ye get access to those?!” Hoskel, who was very pleased with himself, pounded his fists on the table.

“You guys have an open records policy,” you said, almost impressed with how unaware of his own city, “anyway...”

Viktor tuned you out.

“Did you know about this?” he muttered to Jayce.

“She caught me up like 10 minutes before we started.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“She did it behind our backs.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What would you call it?”

“Can we talk about this later? I wanna listen.”

But Viktor wanted to talk about it now. All of a sudden, you were the most proactive person in this mystery, after weeks of not doing anything unless absolutely necessary. It was... not suspicious, but Viktor liked to know things.

Jayce was good at faking, though. Perhaps he was pretending to not be bothered to save face.

“...the delay in Enforcer arrival was caused by an issue with the radio system,” you were still talking, “The Public Emergency Radio on the docks were down, so none of the calls that bystanders on the docks made went through to the station. The Enforcers only heard about a crime from the PER by the bridge. I looked at the maintenance reports, and,” you put a new piece of paper on top of the pile, “it said that the resistor inline of the PER on the docks was soldered somewhere it clearly didn’t belong. This is an error that can only be done by human hands and by someone who would have the key to the fusebox.”

You inhaled through your nose.

“The obvious conclusion is sabotage from within the Enforcers, which is something that many people in the station have suspected for a while. If you want to focus your efforts on something, you should conduct a thorough internal investigation of the Enforcers, because there’s at least one spy in there.”

Self-assured doubt began to cloud the Council’s expressions. You glowered.

“Look, pirates expand, okay? If you let this slide, then one day, they won’t just be after Hextech. They’ll go for your jewelry, your booze, your spices...” that got a few of them to straighten their spines, “The longer you leave a spy in there, the harder they are to find. I’ve seen entire enterprises destroyed this way, and it will happen again, unless you nip this in the ass by finding that spy now,” you strained slightly.

Viktor realized that you’d been paying more attention than you let on, with the way that you targeted the specific business interests of the Councilors. For someone who never made an effort to please them, you could be quite convincing when you wanted to be. All that haggling expertise didn’t come from nowhere, he supposed.

It was silent. You didn’t sit down yet, practically challenging one of them to say something.

Finally, someone did.

“Councilors, all due respect, that would be an utter waste of time” the voice was irritated with pride.

Its speaker left the shadowed corner; he had a precise black mustache, geometric brows, and an Enforcer helmet tucked under his arm.

“So is bringing a Helmet to a Council meeting, Mister...” your fingers tightened against the tabe.

“I’m the Sheriff of Piltover,” he stated, directly to you, before turning to the Councilors, “and in all the years I’ve been working for this city, we’ve only increased our internal defenses against spies due to the threat of Undercity subterfuge. Our hiring process is thorough, and we screen for them regularly, which is why I can safely say that there are no agents of the Undercity, or anywhere else, in the Enforcers.”

Somehow, even when the subject was entirely unrelated, the Undercity always came up in Council meetings. Viktor scoffed, but said nothing.

“But how can-”

“Further,” he interrupted, focusing on you again, “I urge the Council to question the integrity of her argument. For all we know, she could be the insurgent, trying to distract us while the real problems go unnoticed,” he folded his hands, “Her character would suggest so.”

“This isn’t about me,” you growled.

“Our testimony would suggest that it is about you, actually,” he pulled a piece of paper from his brest pocket, “One witness reports that you were, and these were their exact words, ‘brutal. without remorse, didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.’”

Viktor’s heart fell into his stomach.

“Now, Councilors, that doesn’t sound like someone who has anyone’s best interest in mind, let alone Piltover’s,” the sheriff concluded, and Viktor felt a new level of guilt.

“You’re taking that out of context,” you said.

“Is that so?” the sheriff put the paper away, “But you still were engaging in such behavior, weren’t you?”

Viktor cringed, sinking down deeper into his seat. His internal logic sounded a lot less valid coming from this pompous asshole’s mouth.

“It was self defense,” you said.

“Right,” the sheriff returned his focus to the Council, as though you were a speck of dust on his shoe, “now, I recommend that we...”

Your palms relaxed. You plopped back back into the chair, defeated, and Viktor never thought that he’d see you give up an argument that easily.

A vote and a disappointment later, you three regrouped in the lobby.

“They’re screwing themselves over,” you tutted, “all the work we’re doing to shut this down is gonna mean nothing.”

“This isn’t our last chance,” Jayce nudged your elbow, “we can always ask again. That sheriff can only damage control so many times.”

Jayce was very convincing. If Viktor hadn’t actually seen him break down yesterday, he would’ve believed that you two were pals and nothing ever happened.

“Right,” you said into your hands, “godsdamnit, of course they had some random asshat’s testimony on file like that,” you surveyed Jayce and Viktor, “I didn’t even know anyone else was watching.”

You locked eyes with Viktor, and before he could anticipate how it would come off, he found himself quickly looking down at the floor with the confidence of a frightened rabbit. If he had to under the spell of the discerning, yet unsuspecting, crinkle in the corners of your eyes for any longer, he might just confess.

Which wasn’t even warranted, he told himself. How was he supposed to know that they would use his words like that?

When he poked his head back up and caught your face, your expression wasn’t unsuspecting anymore.

“I gotta go,” you said suddenly, getting up from your chair, “Alex and I have a dinner date. But I’ll be there early tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. We’ll get started on lockdown. See ya, Pen.”

Viktor only felt that he could breathe again when you closed the door behind you.

“Are you alright, Vik?” Jayce patted his friend’s back without warning.

“Yes-” Viktor regained his composure, “yes, I am fine. I do wonder,” he narrowed his eyes, “how she read those Enforcer logs by herself, though.”

“Oh, Caitlyn helped her,” Jayce said, “they met up at the station.”

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?!”

“Why would it bother me?” Jayce frowned, “Does it bother you?”

“Well-” Viktor swallowed, “I thought that you were interested in keeping tighter security. Penny doing things without us knowing does not align with that.”

“Look, I was a little freaked out earlier, but once I processed all that shit,” Jayce sighed, “I remembered that it’s just Penny. She’s still the same person. And I trust her.”

Ah. Jayce wasn’t faking earlier - he was actually comfortable with you. And so was Caitlyn. Even after everything you’d done. After everything you’d shown yourself to be.

If there was one thing he learned after moving here from Zaun, it was that, despite all the glitz of Piltover, people will eventually show their true selves to you. Especially if they don’t see you as an equal.

And you should always believe them.

“Now, we better get started on clearing out the lab,” Jayce grunted.

“We should divide the labor,” Viktor said lifelessly, “I will remove the test circuits.”

“You sure you wanna do that alone?”

“Yes.”

Viktor refused to be near the Academy any longer. He needed time, away from the vestigial defensive reflexes of his Zaunite heritage, away from reminders of his work, and away from the notion that you ever existed.

*****

You squinted, as though it were any trouble to recognize that silhouette.

You could recognize a lot of things about him now. He stood out from the crowd. Those weren’t just keys on the table, those were Viktor’s keys. That wasn’t just sloppy handwriting, that was Viktor’s sloppy handwriting. And, earlier today, that wasn’t just anyone’s evasive maneuver, that was Viktor’s evasive maneuver.

And he was never evasive. The bastard was hiding something, and you hoped that you were wrong about what it was.

“She had a knife like yours,” Alex said.

Right. You were supposed to be bringing him home. You were sure that he could make it by himself, but given everything that had happened in the last few days and the fact that it was approaching midnight, you weren’t taking any chances.

“Hm?” you tilted your head to the side, refocusing your attention on the winding street.

“That lady. Pearl. She had a knife like yours. I saw it when I went to the bathroom.”

“You sure about that? Mine’s as custom as they come.”

“I didn’t look that close,” he paused, half his face shadowed by the street lamp, “but it did look like yours.”

“Maybe I’ll ask her to see it next time,” you looked at him from the side, “You liked her though, right?”

Though you very much enjoyed dining in the servant’s quarters of the mansion she worked in, you had other reasons to consider the visit a success; she basically confirmed that you could house sit for the winter, starting next week and lasting for a month.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I just wish that there were more Rats in Piltover. Monty says I’m not allowed to go to the Undercity.”

You clicked your tongue. You didn’t know much about the family that he lived in, but that sounded like standard fare for Piltover.

“I’m not allowed to go there either,” you said, “but hey, it’s not gonna be like this forever. I’m sure we’ll get to meet them eventually.”

Even if the entire godsdamned city, including Viktor, was working against you.

In the meantime, you could make do with Pearl’s company.

She was happy to find a kindred spirit and you were desperate for one. You got the sense that both of you were not considered worthwhile company by most of Piltover, so it was nice to be wanted for a change. And, despite your initial caution, she was fun to be around; she’d retained her Bilgewater slickness.

You hardly got through your request for a housesitting recommendation before she was on board, saying that she did something similar in her youth and that it was “only right that the people who would actually use a property like this should get to live in it.” Apparently, she’d thrown some wild parties in the ballroom, with her employers none the wiser.

She’d even taken her employer’s best booze from the cellar for that night, though you had to decline since you were on proper painkillers now.

“I don’t get tired of the luxury, because it was never really mine to start with,” she had said, “though, if you ask me, I think being bored out of my skull but filthy rich is a pretty good deal.”

“Maybe so,” you had answered, “though something tells me we’ll never get to find out.”

After you dropped Alex off at his house, you closed the door and leaned against it, resting in the porchlight oasis. Finally, one damn thing had gone right in your life, and you worried that the minute you walked down the stairs of the deck and surrendered yourself back to the quotidian night, you’d lose the feeling.

But Viktor was still there, by himself, looking like a mugger’s dream. You should probably make sure that he didn’t get himself killed.

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself,” you said when you approached him from behind, holding back a smirk when he flinched, “did you learn nothing from that bar ambush?”

His screwdriver stilled, then gently floated away from the open test-circuit reactor. The light around Viktor’s shadow on the cobblestone melted from brassy street lamps to hex crystal blue, which glimmered in his exhausted eyes when he faced you.

“I know that you don’t get out much, but you really ought to find a better hobby than following me,” he leaned against his cane with that smug, self-assured lack of fear that he always had when he realized it was just you.

“Alex’s house is that way,” you jerked your chin towards the street, “in case you forgot. And I think following you is a more worthwhile hobby than giving vindictive, inaccurate testimony to Enforcers.”

He wasn’t surprised at your retort. He just winced, like he’d seen it coming, which had the frightening implication that he recognized the signs of your mood just as easily as you recognized his.

“I did not know they would use it like that,” he said, all too defensive for your liking, “but it was not inaccurate. I was merely telling the truth.”

Something rustled in your coat pocket.

“Oh, bullshit. Jayce saw a lot of the same crap you did, was even more disgusted by it, and they weren’t quoting him in front of the Councilors, so obviously there was a right thing to say, and you didn’t say it.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said, though he didn’t turn around.

“Right, because you were so busy working on that circuit,” you gestured to it, “c’mon, I saw you there like five minutes ago. It doesn’t take that long to deactivate,” you curled your lips cruelly, “What? Too worried that you’ll feel some remorse?”

The mass in your pocket was... warm against your upper thigh.

“I’ve been standing here,” Viktor’s words came from the back of his throat, “for four hours, because you could not stop yourself from going fucking berserk and how Hextech is suffering for it. You couldn’t think for a moment about how this would affect anyone other than yourself,” he swallowed, “I am losing everything.”

“I’m sorry?!” you crossed your arms, “Am I hearing that you’d rather lose your life?”

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Viktor rolled his eyes, “no one’s-”

Blue light cracked from your coat pocket. Viktor stopped as a similar surge of magical energy stretched out behind him in bolts. The pen reactor.

You went dead still, wondering if this was really how it ended.

But a few moments passed, and you were both still alive, goggling each other with empty, frightened eyes. You bit your lip and reached down into your pocket with a trembling hand.

The long, smooth grip of the pistol was raging with internal magic, like there were storm clouds lashing out inside of it. You followed the energy back to its cylinder, wrapping your fingers around the center and rattling your bottle of painkillers on the way out of your pocket.

Viktor stepped aside to examine the reactor.

Blue embers radiated from the pistol’s cylinder, as though hot coals burned inside. It didn’t feel like a solid object anymore, but an extension of your body, united with your hand.

Viktor pushed the shutter away. The reactor’s hex crystal emanated the same muted embers. THey were less flashy than normal, but still fluttered with life.

The pistol and the reactor chittered back and forth rhythmically.

You unsheathed your knife from your belt and pressed the tip into the blue edge at the bottom of the cylinder, applying the slightest amount of pressure to open it.

Pop.

You saw the hex crystal inside for only a second before everything went white.

*****

Falling, falling, falling, but with no air careening against you.

It was so godsdamned bright. The inverse of outer space, where, instead of the absence of light, every single molecule reflected it at you all at once, bursting and flashing with lurid vertigo. It felt like you stared into the sun too long and now the rays were extending past your scope, consuming you whole.

It lasted for only a second.

Your feet were on solid ground again, and traces of salt water tickled your nose. Spots clumped in your vision, mitigated by the steely cobalt color of the sky.

The sky... wasn’t like that before. Storm clouds herded above, still an opaque mass as the last strands of light dipped below the horizon. It was not the clear, inky night that you’d come from.

“Hhhng.”

Viktor.

You blinked harshly, forcing the disorientation from your system. You were outside, it was nearing night time, and... and the familiar sound of clinking glass and drunken whoops spun from your right. A strip of dull lantern light came from an open door.

Viktor materialized into focus, standing up, in the same physical condition as he was before, but just as lost as you were. And past him... that couldn’t be.

It was the alleyway that Jayce was attacked in. You’d recognize it anywhere. Scuffed, aging buildings formed a lane to the docks, but as your eye followed them down, the street was lacking something that should’ve been there, and it made you sick.

It should’ve been coated with thick, white snow, shoveled into small piles on the side so the crunchy salt could break apart the thin sheet of ice on the road.

But there was nothing. The streets were clear, like it had never snowed at all. And the ocean was angry.

Anxiety twanged in your chest.

You looked at Viktor, distracted by the street, and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. Something was very, very wrong.

And then your own voice, scratchy and free and spent, and curled around your ears. But you hadn’t said anything.

You cleared your throat, confirming that, yes, your vocal chords were still under your control, but the onslaught of your own words, entirely divorced from your being, continued.

Jayce’s brazen voice replied.

“Do...” your voice cracked, and Viktor turned around, “do you hear that?”

He paused, listening intently to the inside of the bar. And his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen when he heard his own voice blurt something out, the unmistakable accent even thicker with booze.

You crept into the doorway, barely touching the edge with your fingers. Another sensation would send you overboard. The asymmetrical beat of Viktor’s footsteps followed behind you.

Moving just one eye out, you took a peek at the bar.

Every poet from every country from every lifetime could not describe the uncanniness of seeing yourself from the outside. It wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real, because there was no way that was you, because things like this did not happen. You were not supposed to be an object on a plane, you were the damn plane.

It was like those trick paintings, where everything looks okay on the surface, but as you notice more macabre details the only picture you get is just how little you know about the world being presented to you. Every small thing about yourself sent a rolling wave of dissociated, horrified deja vu. And yet you couldn’t pull yourself away.

You felt faint.

And it only got worse when you saw the back of the original man with the pistol, the motherfucker that drugged your friends and tried to shoot you, sitting at the bar. The same young man hiding behind a still-developing beard. His pistol, a creamy silver, was sturdily attached at the hip.

He didn’t see you spying on him, as he was intensely focused on other you getting up from the table with a half empty mug of rum and beckoning to the bartender.

You took a seat right next to him and faced away, leaving your drink on the table.

Gods, you were an idiot.

You were watching everything go wrong in slow motion. The bartender went around back to get you some fresh mint, and you passively engaged in conversation with someone sitting farther down the bar.

The pirate fingered a bottle of clear liquid, passed it over your drink like a ghost, and left the bar counter without you noticing. He faded into some far off corner, waiting for you to take the bait.

He must’ve already gotten Jayce and Viktor, then. So what stopped this drug from getting to you? And better yet, what would stop you from beat his ass this very moment instead of letting past you take the lead an hour from now.

You couldn’t just attack him, you knew better than to run head first into... whatever was going on. But, for comfort, your hand raced down to your belt and closed around the hilt of your knife. Your bottle of painkillers rattled in your pocket.

Painkillers. The ones that made you vomit when combined with alcohol.

You’d asked the bartender for mint. You were making a mojito, which you’d thrown up that night.

And then you understood that all of this had already happened to you, and your intervention was an important part of saving this night. But you had to do it now.

You edged further into the bar, pressing your palm down on the cap of the painkillers.

This was a bad idea.

You crammed a chalky white pill between your fingers. Your drink was open. The bartender was gone. No one would notice.

This was a bad idea.

Jayce and Viktor were enraptured by a debate with each other about... something stupid probably. Your heartbeat was fast.

This was a bad idea.

“Wait here,” you said to your Viktor, the one looming over your shoulder, who was too stunned with anything to reply.

This was a bad idea. You can’t change the past.

But clearly, you already had.

You blacked out for a bit. You forgot to breathe the entire time as you snaked out from your hallway and hugged the edge of the bar, trying and failing to act casual.

You were less than a foot away from yourself when you stalled, because that was you, right there. Your back was facing you, and you could’ve reached out and touched it.

But this timeline was meant to be changed, even if you had to be the one to do it.

So, when the pill slipped from your hands, into the shallow pool of Whalefall and rum at the bottom of your mug, with past you none the wiser, you felt a rush of raw determination. Everything would be okay.

You retreated into the hallway, a stop on your way back into the alleyway. Viktor just watched you, shaking.

“Did... did you-” he whispered as you gave yourself a final glance before you left the premises.

Your attention returned to your drink after the bartender gave you the mint you asked for. You scooted off the chair and joined Jayce and Viktor again, about the mix the mojito that would’ve been your doom.

“C’mon, let’s-”

A fading conversation bounced down the alleyway. You saw them from the corner of your eye.

Jayce’s attackers, lying in wait. You were fucked if you went back down the alleyway.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit,” you muttered.

You couldn’t just walk through the bar either, not when you looked like you had just seen a ghost. You needed time to think. To come up with a plan.

But you were trapped.

You hastily backed into the bathroom, brushing against Viktor’s chest as you pushed his immobile body with you.

You shut the door and twisted the lock with numb hands.

“This can’t- I can’t- what the fuck-” Viktor panted. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

You turned and leaned against the door, realizing for the first time since you’d arrived here that the gun was gone.

Well, shit.

The bathroom was tiny; the bare necessities of a rusty sink, soap, a hand towel, and a toilet were surrounded by aged wooden walls reminiscent of a ship’s head.

Not the time to reminisce.

“What- what did you do?” Viktor collapsed onto the toilet, rubbing his face with the heels of his hand.

“I, uh- I think I just drugged my own drink,” you said blankly, “so that I would throw up that shit they put in it. And then I could...” you trailed off.

“No! I mean-” Viktor caught a breath, “what... what happened? Why are we here? Is this... this is real, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “this... is real.”

“The reactor, and the... it must have been affected, and transported us...”

“Into the past,” you finished slowly, “when it connected with...”

“What was in that gun?!” his voice cracked, “Why did...”

“It came from the guy,” you said, “the first one I killed when I... when I came for you. The one we just saw. It was his...”

“And it connected with the gun from the past, meaning that we-” he groaned, anger gradually replacing the confusion, “And you- why did you have it?!” he snapped.

“Hey! This isn’t all me, okay, it did some shit with that reactor too!”

“Of all the godsdamned places we could go!” he threw his arms in the air, “And now we’re stuck here.”

“We’re not stuck,” you said, “We’ve got time before... everything happens. We’ll just wait for our opening and then-”

“And then what?! Get involved with all of this crap again?” he chuckled mirthlessly, “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I was making sure that we don’t die just now, dickweed!” you howled, “I don’t wanna see any of this shit again!”

“If you don’t want to see it again, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it to begin with.”

And finally, the cord inside of you that was wound so tight around your emotions broke in hafl.

“Alright, that’s it!” you slammed your hand down on the sink counter, “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand how saving your bitch ass could possibly be a fuck up on my end, but I assure you I will not repeat that mistake.”

“Again with this rescue drivel! You can give it a rest, no one else is here.”

“You think I did all that shit, to them, to me, for fun?!”

“I don’t know why you did it, but it’s not because you wanted to help me,” he hissed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You may have everyone else on your side,” he pointed a bony finger at your chest, “but you made a mistake. And I’ll tell you where you made a mistake.”

HIs spit shined in the artificial light, disturbing the dust mites suspended in the air.

“You came back for me,” he barked, “and if you think for a godsdamned second that I believe you came back, risked yourself, not even for my life but just for my wellbeing, with no ulterior motive, then you are dumber than you look,” he said, “You did not do anything for me. You did it for yourself because you wanted an excuse to do all that. I know it.”

He was sweating. He was hurting. And you were so, so close to channeling your turbulence and bewilderment straight into your fists, because you didn’t even have a good answer.

But then he said those words, and everything fell into place.

*****

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark, and you’re a monster.”

None of the catharsis that was supposed to be there came. You blinked once, twice, overflowing with nothing, like a dormant volcano.

The patter of footsteps outside was deafening.

And then your hands moved, and Viktor thought you were going to kill him.

BUt instead your fingers, steadier than he’d ever seen, met at the collar of your shirt and undid the first button. The fabric shifted as you inhaled.

“See, the thing about a lot of what happens on ships,” your cadence was stony, “is that it’s designed to not be debilitating, but to still hurt like hell.”

Viktor didn’t answer, watching as you weaved down to the second button.

“Injuries that you can still do your job with. You get this little jolt of pain every time that you move.”

You crept down to the third button.

“And you can see it for a while after if you look. Because they don’t want you to forget.”

The fourth. The placid mauve color of your bra poked through, and though Viktor was very briefly tempted to follow the luscious line of your chest, the rapid descent of your hands and the severity in your voice killed the thought.

“And if you’ve been sailing for a while, and it happens over and over again...”

The fifth.

“Then you get something to show for it.”

The sixth. You turned around and peeled the shirt off your back.

Starting at your shoulder blades and extending to beyond your pants was an explosion of scars. They were raised, long, and straight, overlapping with each other but occasionally grouping together in parallel rows as though they’d come from some vicious, clawed animal. There were so many.

The craggy lines reminded Viktor of a map, perhaps a conglomerate of rivers or mountains, but only on the surface. These were far too angry, tangled with each other like they were trying to suffocate themselves, yet aged into your skin like hieroglyphics.

Whip scars. Viktor did not need to ask where they came from.

After a small eternity, in which Viktor fought off the urge to reach out and trace them with this finger, you pulled your shirt over your back and turned around, leaving your clavicle exposed as you addressed him.

“Because everywhere has monsters,” your voice was almost a whisper as you snared his eyes with your own, narrowed ones, “and I’ve seen Bilgewater’s. I’m reminded of what they’re capable of every single day.”

You straightened your posture, and the sharp corners of your eyelids softened in a way only Viktor could notice.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to protect you from that?”

The silence sighed.

Peals of laughter - laughter from you and Viktor and Jayce - bled through the bathroom door. Yet Viktor said nothing.

And he wanted to say everything.

He had a million answers to your question, and a million questions for you to answer, and a million grievances to take up with the gods themselves, and as they were all tearing his mind apart in every direction and giving him a searing headache, he couldn’t stop plunging himself into your frustrated, yet painfully earnest gaze as you waited for a single answer that he would never have.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, pressing yourself against the door and buttoning your shirt. All the ire had evaporated, and left disappointment in its place.

You expected him to be better - not just expected, even, but worked for it. Put yourself out there, in the cold, cruel world to keep him on track, because you thought he had something worth protecting.

And the worst part was that he could be better than this, but the thought of letting you down was suddenly so terrifying, that he didn’t know where to begin,

He had to try, though. He couldn’t miss his chance.

“I... I thought it was too good to be true,” he said softly.

You laughed.

“Oh, really? That was what was too good to be true, Mr. Heimerdinger’s assistant who does break-ins on the side?” your fake smile dropped, “Don’t fucking patronize me.”

Viktor raised a melancholy eyebrow.

“Being Heimerdinger’s assistant was too good to be true,” he said, embarrassed for some reason.

And... he’d lost you. You rolled your eyes and prepared to sit down on the floor, but, before Viktor even thought about it, he gently grabbed your knuckles.

“No, please, you don’t understand,” he stammered, looking past your pupils.

Your face was still, and Viktor could really focus on your ear and nose while you were awake, with everything he knew about you to evaluate it against.

And despite his best efforts, all he saw was someone who had been through a lot, and was putting even more on hold so they could listen to him speak. The least he could do was give them a worthwhile explanation.

“I- those years, when I had to work the hardest job on campus just to say there, to even have a chance at making something of myself... those were some of the worst years of my life. I hate the story of how I became Herimerdinger’s assistant.”

He exhaled, keeping himself together for your sake.

“But everyone knows it, because people in Piltover love to tell it. Without my permission, too. It makes them feel comfortable in their system; that somehow, the people who ‘deserve’ to be here will always find their way to Piltover, even if they have to deal with a lot of... eh, bullshit.”

Your hand was smaller in his own. He had your attention, but he kept holding it.

“Every success that I’ve had here is like that. You have seen it with how people, the Council, treat Hextech. Piltover talks about my- our wellbeing in times like these, yet in reality, they could not care less about what happens to us as long as they get what they want,” he said, “And what- what I’m trying to say is that, when things started to go bad, when we were losing Hextech, and when I was very angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought that you were one of those people. And that was upsetting because-”

Everything he thought to say here made him sound like an office manager or the world’s biggest sap. Because I value your company? Because you remind me of the person I want to be, even when I feel like crap? Because I finally understand you, and I keep wanting to know more?

He heard himself guffawing in the bar. He remembered this laugh - you had just recounted the time that you had to pretend to be Freljordian, but only knew the swear words in the language.

In a few minutes, Viktor would feel comfortable enough to recall the time that he accidentally brought Heimerdinger a smut novel instead of the biology text he requested, because of the similar covers.

“Because I really thought we were starting to be friends,” he said sheepishly, “even though I have not acted like one in the past few days,” he placed his other hand on top of your knuckles, “and I am truly sorry.”

You sharply exhaled and looked at your shoes before returning the eye contact with curious resolve.

“Piltover doesn’t deserve you, y’know,” you said bluntly.

Viktor understood Jayce’s apprehension with the company now. He would shut the entire thing down to prevent anything like this from falling on you.

“Perhaps not, but... you risked your life and I still get to be here. I cannot thank you enough,” he squeezed his hand, “And Penny, I promise you that as long as I have something to say about it, you will not be in that position again.”

However impossible that was, he meant every word. Precious few people ever considered him something to be deserved, and even fewer defended it with their bare chest and back.

And there was only one you.

“Psh, alright,” you pulled your hand away, leaving Viktor to grasp at the cold, “apology accepted, don’t overcomplicate it. Now you know... cause we’re both kinda fucked, so we gotta watch out for each other, right?

You smiled, slightly apologetic for killing the atmosphere, and a bit... nervous? Your hands were fidgeting.

More laughter came from inside the bar.

“Indeed,” Viktor sat back down on the lid of the toilet, “we do.”

“And, uh, don’t worry about trying to make it up or anything. You’ve helped me before. We’re equal.”

“That was different,” Viktor didn’t know exactly what you were referring to, but he assumed that none of it had the same weight.

“It still meant a lot,” you insisted, “and besides, things wouldn’t have gotten this far if I hadn’t avoided talking about the whole, uh, murder party, so...”

From the onset of tact in your voice and the way that your body froze as you tried to process a single emotion, Viktor could tell that you meant it. Yes, you were a tad emotionally constipated, but liked you as you were.

He stayed silently committed to his promise.

“We should... leave here,” he changed the subject

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard, now that we’re not acting too suspicious or anything, so I think we’ll just wait for our opening and go out the front without attracting any attention,” you cracked open the bathroom door, surveying the minefield of potential sightings, “only trouble is that we don’t really have anywhere to go after that.”

“There is one place we could go,” Viktor said.

After a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes of watching bar customers slowly clear out as the night got darker, you two left with a large wave of them, making it into the outside’s chilled embrace without a hitch.

You broke apart the awkwardness with commentary about the snow that just started to fall, saying that you were “a fan of this frozen precipitation,” to which Viktor chuckled at through his exhaustion.

The last stop on your journey was a call made at the PER by the bridge to the Enforcers, to report your own incident. Viktor got to hear your terrible Freljordian accent again as you faked being a Helga Olafersson.

And you left Piltover, the memories of the bar, and any other bullshit behind as you crossed the bridge, side by side, to the Undercity.

~ End Notes ~

Your daily reminder to not tell shit to cops

End Credits Song: "The Night" by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

#OKAY OKAY OKAY #this was a godsamn masterpiece #really felt like i was reading some fancy ass book #that first part??? about being a monster??? fucking superb. amazing. and then it repeating later?????? DELICIOUS. SHOWSTOPPING #i just. i'm in awe #also. that bit about the ocean being angry???? love that shit. incredible #and!!!! i loved when penny was like. sorry for saving your bitch ass #AND!!!!! fuckingm accidemtal time travel????? Hell YEAH we're getting deeper into the plot #AND THEN LATER WHEN VIKTOR IS LIKE I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT ME ITS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE. HOO BOY YOU GOT SOME PROBLEMS #i mean we knew that but like #that scene was so well done #like #it was so clear that that was about HIM and not about penny. it was about viktor not being able to accept that someone might actually #care about him like that because hes so used to being treated badly by people in piltover and hes so used to seeing penny as someone that #never does anything unless theres something in it for her #OHHHHH AND OH MY GOD WHEN THEY USED HIS WORDS IN THE WITNESS TESTIMONY????? I WAS SHOOK. BITCH. THATS ILLEGAL #LIKE #NOOOOOO YOU CANT DO THAT THATS SO EVIL YOU’RE HURTING MY FEELINGS PLEASE #AND THEN!!!!! THEM BEING SO USED TO READING EACH OTHER THAT THEY INSTANTLY BOTH KNOW WHATS GOING ON WITHOUT TALKING ABT IT #and!!!!!! all the little details that show them both paying more attention to the other one!! ahhhh #and. ohhhh boy. everything about being a monster and thinking about the violence was so. mwah. chefs kiss i loved it #like it felt so raw and real!!!#also shoutout for penny for being sensible about mixing alcohol and pain meds and then instantly figuring out the time travel thing like #girls been thrown into a freaky situation instantly after almost dying and shes just like ah yes. i see. i must interfere #and then she does!!!! and it actually seems like the right thing to #ahh sorry i cant write #anyway it seems like the right thing to do and she just figured it out on the spot!! good for her #i mean obviously we don't know yet if that was the right thing to do or not but like. still #OH AND ALSO. MEL BEING TOTALLY ON TOP OF EVERYTHING. EXCELLENT. OH YOU’RE GOING TO PUT MY CRIMINAL SCIENTIST IN JAIL?#NAH I DON’T THINK SO HERES SOME MONEY THANK YOU SHE WILL BE A SECURITY OFFICR NOW ACTUALLY AND LIVE IN MY HOUSE GOODBYE

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sadclearance · 4 years ago

Text

right hand

pairing: katsuki bakugo x male!reader

summary: 5 things bakugo uses his right hand for + 1 thing bakugo uses his left hand for *wrote with “left hand” being in mind as a prequel, but can also be read as a standalone

category: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 1500

key:

s/t - skin tone

when they were in high school, midoriya izuku noticed that bakugo katsuki--his childhood friend and bully--always started fights with a right hook.

which was incredibly powerful, albeit predictable.

midoriya still remembers a specific sunny morning in their third year when this expected yet efficient move was used for something that wasn't exactly a fight. a second year had made the unbelievably stupid mistake of--

"watch it, dumbass!"

and immediately after bakugo caught y/n before he could fall on his ass, bakugo's right fist met with the second year's nose, successfully breaking it and scorching off the hairs of the kid's eyebrows.

at the time, nobody really thought anything of it. bakugo was protective of the few people that he considered--but would never outright admit--to be his friends, and y/n was one of them.

ii.

but it was at the christmas social event that was held for the third years to get a chance to make connections as well as have fun before the end of their student years that it became clear that it was much much more than just friends looking out for each other.

"what're you doing all alone?" kaminari asked as he leaned against the wall next to y/n.

"everyone's either flirting with pro heroes or kissing their asses, and i'm not really in the mood to do either."

"yeah, i can see that," kaminari snickered as mineta got slapped in the face by mount lady after both a series of terrible flirting and a horrendous attempt to literally kiss her ass.

"surprised you're not doing the same."

"well..." kaminari said as he pointed up. he was wearing a hat with a hanging mistletoe.

"how not unexpected," y/n laughed.

"you know the tradition," kaminari winked pointing at his lips.

"okay, okay. for the holiday spirit--"

and as y/n leaned in to give kaminari a peck, a strong right hand grabbed his chin, and his lips met with a pair that belonged to someone else.

kaminari was too shocked to be disappointed after being pushed away by none other than bakugo.

"fuck off, dunce face," bakugo said before crashing his lips against y/n's.

that was one hell of a way to find out that two of his best friends were dating.

iii.

bakugo's jealousy only got worse after graduation.

but to be fair, that was his own fault.

he may have chilled out since their time together as first years, but he was still a headstrong ambitious hero.

they didn't go public with their relationship because bakugo figured it would be distracting to his goal.

which was a decision that he immediately regretted when he remembered just how attractive y/n was--something that other people clearly appreciated as well.

y/n got gifts, compliments, and very suggestive comments wherever he went, which did nothing but fuel bakugo's anger and displeasure.

there was a solution to this problem, and it was to let it be known to the world that y/n was his and his only.

instead of doing what normal couples do and going to an interviewer or announcing their relationship on his social media accounts, bakugo decided to--

"so... y/n," the barista looked at the name she just wrote on the cup and then back to y/n. "are you seeing anybody?"

"what's taking so fucking long?" bakugo asked as he came up behind y/n, right hand harshly meeting y/n's left ass cheek.

"ow! what the hell? there's paparazzi right outside of the window," y/n scolded, gesturing toward the crowd of people with cameras on the other side of the glass wall.

bakugo's only response was to press a kiss against y/n's lips, smirking into it as he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye, fully aware of the fact that his hand was still on y/n's ass.

iv.

when he saw a building crumbling on top of y/n, he knew what he had to do.

he had faced a similar obstacle to this in his first year of high school, when he was up against round face--ochako. she had collected rubble that he had unknowingly provided and gathered it all up to the sky, later using it as a weapon by making it rain down on bakugo.

a building, however, had much more stone than a collection of collateral concrete that an individual collected over only a few minutes.

"y/n!" he shouted.

recreating the move from his first year, he raised his right hand and released a massive explosion--one much larger than the original maneuver.

he had succeeded for the most part. small bits of rubble rained down on them, but it was more like getting hit by hail than being buried by a boulder.

"bakugo!"

the mentioned man gritted his teeth and pressed the rough fingers of his left hand into his terribly cramped and pained right hand.

"you overdid it, you idiot!"

y/n rushed to get medical attention, and bakugo reluctantly let himself be pulled around.

he would've crudely yelled back that he didn't need help, but the worried look on y/n's face stopped him.

"i'm not gonna die, dumbass," bakugo rolled his eyes. the words were intended to come off harsher, and more like bakugo insulting a subordinate for not being able to see the obvious, but they came out closer to a soft reassurance instead.

"do that again, and i'll kill you myself," y/n glared. he looked more like an angry puppy.

"as if you could even land a hit on m--"

y/n's lips shut him up.

"even though that was the stupidest thing i've ever seen, thank you for saving me," y/n smiled, rubbing soft circles into bakugo's right hand.

"'stupidest thing you've ever seen'..." bakugo grumbled.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

it's been a habit to hold hands while doing almost anything since their time together at u.a.

hell, they used to hold hands throughout basically all of high school except during hero training.

subjects like math, language, history--they didn't require both hands. they only needed to write on a piece of paper, and they only needed their dominant hands for that.

so it comes as no surprise that that habit followed them to their pro hero years, pale left hand entwined with s/t right hand as they finish their paperwork.

bakugo's confusion was prompted by y/n's sudden fascination with his right hand.

"i rarely ever give this one attention," y/n shrugged.

"it's not its own being. like a pet or a person."

the look bakugo gave y/n told him that he was the biggest dumbass in history, but y/n ignored it in favor of responding, "still a part of you i rarely get a piece of."

"i hate the way you worded that, creep..."

"you're still blushing."

"in your fucking dreams!"

+i.

going to a nice place was somewhat out of the ordinary for the two of them.

bakugo was focused on being the top hero, and being the top hero meant sacrificing a lot of time.

y/n doesn't know what changed bakugo's mind so suddenly, but he wasn't about to reject a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"the breeze is so nice," y/n breathed in the fresh air of the beach.

he had ran up to the gorgeous ocean, cold water hitting his bare legs while he tried to convince bakugo to join him.

"not up to the challenge? that's rare," y/n teased, turning his back to him and going deeper into the sea.

"oh, shut your trap! i have a damn good reason."

"yeah, i'm sure you do. you sure you aren't just cold?"

"i said shut the fuck up!"

"okay, okay," y/n complied and entertained himself with the vibrant blue waves.

"i love you," came bakugo's voice abruptly.

"that's weird, you never say it first, especially not without any form or profan--" y/n turned around to give bakugo a ridiculous look, laughing as he did, only to stop almost immediately.

"fuck y--" bakugo had to stop his habitual reflex. "marry me... dumbass?"

bakugo with a nervous tone, one knee in the sand, struggling to not get up because of the annoying shifting and imbalance, and a ring in his hands was a priceless sight to see.

"yes! yes! yes!" y/n ran back to the dry sand.

bakugo grinned and accepted the kiss but broke it off sooner than he would've liked for the fear of dropping the ring and losing it to the waves.

he slid the ring on y/n's hand with a proud smile before y/n demanded to have the other ring.

"shit, calm down," bakugo laughed, but he couldn't help but feel happy that y/n was just as ecstatic.

although he was the one to say that, bakugo's left hand struggled to stay still as y/n put the ring on bakugo's ring finger.

"i love you," y/n pressed his lips against the trembling left hand once he was done.

with the rings safely on their hands, bakugo could freely go back to enjoying the treasure that was y/n's lips.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

a sequel exactly a month after

i like this format because i'm shit at transitions

i mean just look at the shift from iii to iv...

i had an idea for the right hand theme for a while now since the battle trials when izuku mentioned the right hook thing but i was like woah i could do it with this while writing left hand

#katsuki bakugo x male reader #x male reader #male reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia #bnha x male reader #bnha #my hero academia #mlm #male reader insert #anime x male reader

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padsnprongs · 4 years ago

Text

this is for @anythingforour_moony’s writing competition!!

Prompt: “Who ate my pudding??”

If there was one thing that Remus Lupin loved more than life itself, it was chocolate. Chocolate bars, chocolate cake, chocolate pudding, you name it, he would eat it practically inhale it. Not only would he gulp down anything with the slightest trace of chocolate, he would hoard it. He had secret stashes hidden all over the school. Throughout his five and a half years at Hogwarts, his stashes had remained undiscovered.

Or so he thought.

Without his knowledge, one silver-eyed, mischievous Sirius Black had discovered his little secret months ago. Actually, if he was being honest, he found it rather endearing. The image of one Remus Lupin, engulfed in that adorable green sweater of his, tawny curls falling onto his face, amber eyes gleaming with that enchanting golden tint that Sirius often found himself mesmerised in, happened to be the main source of Sirius’ serotonin regardless, but adding that to the image of Remus Lupin, curled up with some chocolate from his secret little stash, perfectly content, was even more adorable, if that was at all possible.

Yeah… Sirius would really have to do something about this crush of his.

And so, Sirius hatched a crafty scheme: he would steal Remus’ chocolate from his stash. Not to eat! Oh lord, no. Maybe just to hide for an hour or two? At least until Remus noticed it was gone, which surely wouldn’t take long; the guy was obsessed. Once Remus had figured out that Sirius had stolen his chocolate, he would probably be rightfully mad. And then he would hopefully start spewing something about morals and boundaries or something. And maybe that, in turn, would help Sirius see that maybe being with Remus wasn’t all he’d thought it up to be, and maybe this silly little crush of his, could finally come to an end. Sirius’ main aim was just to find a way to make Remus mad, and stealing his chocolate was apparently the best way to go about that.

The plan may have been long-winded and, frankly, ridiculous, but Sirius was desperate. He couldn’t go on like this – just being in the same room as Remus was enough to give him the complexion of a tomato, and surely someone would notice that soon? It was too risky; no one could ever know.

Little did Sirius know just how hard he had fallen.

That was how Sirius found himself sitting in the common room, absent-mindedly watching Peter try desperately to Vanish a table, and James hurriedly scribbling a Potions essay. However, the only thing he could concentrate on was the fact that Remus had just disappeared into the dormitory and was bound to discover what he had done any second now.

Not long after, his suspicions were confirmed. He heard the dormitory door slam, the sound echoing through the tower, followed by the sound of footsteps crashing down the stairs. Remus skidded to a halt at the bottom of the staircase. Sirius’ mouth was dry with anticipation; he could feel his heart about to burst through his ribs. He had no idea what Remus’ reaction would be, but he was notorious for being incredibly overprotective of his chocolate.

Sirius did not fancy his chances.

Remus was annoyed, to say the least. He had had a particularly good day, so imagine his disappointment and frustration when he hurried towards his trunk, only to find that the chocolate pudding he’d been eagerly looking forward to all day, had disappeared. And Remus knew he hadn’t misplaced, or already eaten, the pudding. There was only one possible explanation. One of those three idiots had eaten it. He wasn’t as angry as he could have been, mostly because he genuinely had had a great day, but he was irritated, nonetheless.

That was how Remus found himself storming down to the common room, ready to have a serious conversation with his friends about respecting boundaries. However, not everything goes to plan. When Remus reached the bottom of the staircase, his gaze landed on one Sirius Black. Remus, as so often happens, was mesmerised by the grin which seemed to light up any room, the eyes which seemed to be swirling in the ocean depths, and the hair which seemed to catch the sunlight, shimmering with the slightest movement. Sirius’ charm was infuriatingly distracting, and Remus couldn’t help but to lose himself in those breathtakingly bright eyes, which were gleaming like the moon.

Come on, Remus, snap out of it. Feeling his face start to heat up, Remus took a deep breath. There was a more important matter at hand.

“Alright, which one of you was it?”

“What’s up, moony?” James replied without looking up.

“Who ate my pudding??” Remus narrowed his eyes at the three boys and seemed to notice Sirius’ eyes widening. As he watched, Sirius ducked his head behind those glistening curls of his, refusing to meet Remus’ gaze. This was unusual only in that the other two boys had looked up at the mention of Remus’ chocolate. It was the reaction of a guilty person. Remus knew it, Sirius knew it, and he was pretty sure James and Pete had also figured it out.

‘Sirius?’

‘Hmm?’

Sirius still refused to meet his eyes, which only made it all the more obvious that he was guilty.

Remus waited expectantly, hoping that Sirius would say something; this was awkward enough as it was. Finally, Sirius glanced up.

‘Erm… I’m just gonna go take a quick shower… yeah, I haven’t had one since quidditch practice…’ Sirius stood up hastily, but found his way blocked.

‘Sirius Orion Black. If you have done what I think you have done,’ he warned under his breath, enunciating every syllable to ensure the message was crystal clear, ‘I will send you straight to Filch’s office myself, and tell him what really happened in the girls’ toilets yesterday. You can’t fool me.’

Sirius gulped. Although he was aware that he was currently in deep, deep shit, a part of him desperately wanted to make a ‘straight’ joke in reply to Remus’ threat. However, Sirius felt that may not bode well with the fuming werewolf, who was currently glaring into his soul. So, instead, he did the only reasonable thing he could think of; he ran. Scanning for all possible exits and realising the portrait hole was blocked by a giggling group of girls, he sprinted straight for the stairwell. Taking the steps three at a time, his heart pounded nervously as he heard Remus in close pursuit. He slammed open the dormitory door with enough force to make it rattle in its hinges and dived for his bed. Rolling across the bed, Sirius fell through the drawn curtain on the other side and landed on his feet. Although he personally felt that this was a move worthy of James Bond himself, there was no time to dwell, because he had probably pissed Remus off even more, if that was possible.

Speaking of Remus, Sirius had no idea where he’d gone. He could swear his pursuer had been mere footsteps behind him moments ago. Narrowing his eyebrows, he approached the dormitory door cautiously, when, out of nowhere, Remus barrelled around the corner, straight into him, and rugby tackled him to the ground. Winded from pure shock, Sirius could do nothing but flail desperately as Remus wrestled him onto his back and pinned his wrists above his head.

Suddenly, all the anger and all the panic evaporated. Their faces were mere inches from each other, and Sirius could hardly breathe. Remus was staring into his eyes, and Sirius noticed how the amber seemed to darken and his pupils seemed to expand.

But he had no time to think, because he could feel his heart pounding faster and faster, even though he had stopped running. He would have guessed that it was because of the pure intensity that comes with someone laying on top of you, pinning you to the ground, and staring deep into your soul, seemingly getting lost in your eyes, but his brain could barely comprehend what was happening.

Wait. No. That pounding he had felt? That wasn’t his heart. That was Remus’ heart. What? Why would Remus’ heart be beating faster? Shut up. Suddenly, Sirius became hyper-aware of Remus leaning closer to him.

‘Erm…’ he managed to mumble, now oddly self-conscious of how his breath smelt.

‘Tell me to stop.’ Remus whispered, so softly that Sirius could barely hear. Tell me to stop what?? What does that even mean?? What is he doing??

Remus was now so close that their breaths were mingling, and if Sirius moved slightly, he could probably have brushed their noses. Why the hell would I move slightly?? Are you crazy?? Let’s just see what he does.

And Sirius barely had time to process what happened next, because Remus’ lips curved into a soft smirk, no I am not watching his lips thank you very muc- HOLY SHIT, and then they crashed against his.

Remus’ lips. Crashed against Sirius’ lips.

Sirius’ nervous system was going berserk, his brain was short circuiting, and all he could think about was every point where Remus was touching him.

Time seemed to slow down; everything else faded away until it was just him and Remus.

Remus’ mind had a similar reaction. He swore he could see fireworks behind his eyelids and, despite his nervousness at initiating the kiss, what if I misinterpreted it?? I’ll literally ruin our whole friendship!! Ah you know what, fuck it, he ate my pudding, we don’t have a friendship anymore, those few moments were possibly the best of his life. But then, if it was possible, those moments grew even better; gradually, as they both got over their initial shock (and, let’s be real, a little bit of *gay panic*), they relaxed into the kiss. It turned away from passionate and hungry, and more towards comforting and slow.

Sirius’ intestines seemed to be fizzing and twisting, his fingers tangling themselves in those golden curls that he was so incredibly crazy about.

Well, he thought, that’s my plan gone to shit.

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lazarus-lazuli · 4 years ago

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Loki and Sylvie aren’t endgame and here’s why:

(SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 4 OBVIOUSLY)

The TL;DR version: The director herself confirmed that their relationship is not going to be romantic. I could literally just leave it at that. Please calm down and stop clogging the tag with outraged posts about something that’s not even happening, thank you.

But I also want to argue that the episode itself makes it ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that they’re not gonna be a couple. Hit the read more to learn why I think that. Or don’t, honestly the fact the director confirmed this should be enough to assuage you, I’m just actively choosing to be annoying at this point.

If you pay attention to the text of the episode, it’s pretty clear that no, Loki and Sylvie aren’t getting together. Heteronormativity in media may have corrupted us enough to jump to that conclusion (because in most shows a man and woman interacting for five or more minutes in a meaningful way = romance), but I don’t think that was the writers’ intention. Hell, if anything, the episode makes a stronger argument for Mobius and Loki getting together which I’ll touch on a bit as well. And while I do ship them I don’t think they’ll be endgame either since Disney is incredibly fucking homophobic and we’re lucky we even got bi Loki; the Pacific Ocean will be a desert before we get to see him with another man.

So a few ways the episode told us that Sylvie and Loki aren’t gonna get together:

1) Ravonna and Mobius have a VERY important conversation in her office, not just in the sense of Mobius realizing “Oh shit I’ve been lied to”, but in the sense that she talks about their relationship. She makes a point to define their relationship as a friendship several times, while also making it clear that they have a deep emotional connection to each other - one that transcends time and space. It’s a type of relationship that often gets skewed as romantic when we’re talking about tropes, but no, in their case it’s set in stone that their relationship is completely platonic. Character wise the whole thing gets thrown away since she was very much onto him and proceeds to stab him in the back minutes later, but writing wise it was a very important point they were trying to make to the audience. Like, it was important both in universe and for the audience but for different reasons, if that makes sense. Since they established this strong connection between Loki and Sylvie at the very beginning of the episode - strong enough to cause a fucking Nexus Event - they also wanted to sprinkle in the idea that a strong connection does not necessarily equal a romantic one.

2) The main thing people took away from the conversation between Loki and Mobius was that Mobius was jealous - which, yeah, that’s valid and I agree. I mean he was deadass acting like a scorned boyfriend who just caught his partner cheating on him. But another big takeaway that people need was not only did the show itself confirm that Sylvie x Loki is gross (I mean for God’s sake they’re the exact same person; Sylvie was literally confirmed to just be the AFAB version of him IN THE COLD OPENING), but the whole idea of them being together all came from Mobius. All we know is that Loki cares for her - the feelings he’s experiencing are confusing for him because he’s a loner who hasn’t had any friends at all until Mobius and her came along. The one who’s defining those feelings by insisting they must be romantic is Mobius. This is to get under Loki’s skin because he is jealous. Loki never once gives into the idea of their relationship being romantic, even when Mobius lies about Sylvie being pruned just to get a reaction. Loki may not know EXACTLY how he feels since it’s all new to him, but even he’s not obtuse enough to think that he’s actually falling in love with himself. Mobius is just angry at Loki in this scene for multiple reasons, thus all of the romantic interpretation falls on his shoulders. He’s literally just jumping to conclusions.

Also when he says Sylvie got pruned Loki just gets visibly upset for a moment, but when Mobius himself gets pruned Loki CRIES and is fucked up about it to the point that even Sylvie picks up on it. So make of that what you will (I will make of that that Loki and Mobius are IN LOVE).

3) Final point: people got REALLY IN THEIR FEELINGS about the scene where Loki tries to confess to Sylvie. And yeah at first glance, it is somewhat set up like a romantic scene - someone actually posted “what in the Y/N x Loki is this” and honestly I had to laugh at that one because I agree it kind of has that vibe, especially since he starts the whole thing off by saying he’s new to feeling the way he does. But based on everything we know about them and everything that happened up until that point of the episode, LOKI IS VERY MUCH NOT ABOUT TO CONFESS HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR HER. His feelings for sure, but not necessarily romantic ones. He even has his hands on her shoulders - a gesture of affection, but not one that can be read as exclusively romantic. He’s just grabbing her attention, holding her there (since she does seem freaked out - maybe in her mind she thinks he’s about to confess his love, which is actually pretty funny). While there may be a misunderstanding on the part of the characters, I think the text itself makes it pretty clear that no, Loki is not in love with this woman. He ultimately just wants to tell her he cares about her and wants to stick with her through whatever happens; that they’ll make it through together. If you’re cynical you can be like “It was at the very least set up to LOOK romantic to bait the audience” and yeah, I see it too. That’s completely possible. Granted, instead of baiting people with a “OOO, what’s he gonna say?!”, it more so rubbed salt in the wounds of the people who have been queerbaited by TV shows in the past because all they could see was “Bi Man Falls for His Female Self Then Dies” which is bad so I can’t blame them for being upset. But given the context of the show it’s also very much not what happened.

And hey, I’m just as affected by queerbaiting - I was a Magician’s fan for fuck’s sake. I know queerbaiting when I see it and as far as I’m concerned, if there’s any queerbaiting in this show, it is NOT coming from the interpretation of Loki literally wanting to fuck himself. We will be donning our clown wigs and big red noses for a different reason (that reason involving Disney being Disney). If you’re choosing to be optimistic about the possibility of Loki and Mobius getting together, I fucking commend you and hope you’re right. It would be really amazing and satisfying if they did. I’m not holding my breath, though. Sadly just because Loki x Sylvie won’t be a thing doesn’t mean Loki x Mobius will be, either.

Anyway, I hope this explanation helped to clear up the fact that no, Marvel is not advocating for selfcest and never was. This isn’t Johnny Test. I think it’s good to be critical of Disney and Marvel because they’re both very flawed, but that requires actually watching the content instead of making surface level assumptions based on what you saw at first glance, you know?

#loki #loki spoilers

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stellarboystyles · 5 years ago

Text

From the Dining Table

hello friends <3 this is my second fic for the HS1 Masterlist that @bfharry , @stylesloveclub and I have teamed up to write for you, hope you enjoy x

2.9k angst angst angst

For the first time in a long time, Harry was alone. It was a strong contrast to his old schedule, his days were always jam packed with press interviews, meetings, radio interviews, red carpets, appearances, talk show interviews, meet and greets, concerts...He was definitely a busy bee.

He knows he should be happy. It should be unquestionably irie to simply relax and have some time to himself, but Harry is miserable. Has been ever since her. It’s been too long since he’s seen her eyes, those pretty eyes that he could get lost in for hours gazing back at him, and her smile. God, her smile could cheer him up in his darkest days. He can’t stop thinking about her cheeks and how he used to squish them while he cooed at how adorable she was because they’re the cutest cheeks he’s ever seen and whenever she would blush around him he’d brush his thumb across her cheeks and give her butterfly kisses across her soft skin.

He loves her sense of humor, and how she could always make him laugh. Even if he thought he was having the worst day of his life, he saw her and nothing else mattered. Thinking about her personality made his heart thump in his chest. She was so sweet and kind, and so selfless. She was always doing things for other people and she was strong, and so supportive of everything. His lifestyle, his busy schedule, his privacy, everything.

He loves her style, he definitely finds himself wearing things that he thinks she would like. She’s the one who inspired him to jump out of his comfort zone of tight jeans and chelsea boots and explore different colors, patterns, materials, and he’s forever grateful that she showed him that he could be himself, he swears she’s the real reason he truly blossomed into his own style. Not just around her, but that he could show the world who he really was as well. And she cares so much about animals, he loves watching her interact with them, one of his favorite memories being the time that she rescued a family of bunnies from a fox in Harry’s back garden and it was quite literally the sweetest thing his eyes had ever seen. He misses her tender heart and how gentle natured she is.

He misses how he feels fireworks every time she touches him. He misses how her lips taste, how it feels when they move against his. He misses her soft skin, and how she smells like citron and rose. He misses waking up every morning and seeing her all sleepy as he kisses her all over. He misses how she used to touch him and he feels in his bones that no one could ever make him feel the way that she did.

He misses all of that, all of her. Every single inch of her skin, every little bit of what makes her who she is. But he doesn’t get any of her. Not anymore. Instead, he’s alone in this random hotel room and awake at four in the morning because he can’t think about sleep. If he does, all he’d dream about is her. Not that being awake is any better because she is the only thing swirling around in his brain. Flashbacks are hell, especially when he can’t stop thinking about her being on top of him right now, looking completely fucked out of her mind as she rides his cock. He’d be pressing the back of his head into the pillows and she’d touch his chest and smooth her hands down to his lower belly and she’d be doing all the things that she knows drives him fucking wild.

He can’t help himself as he starts to lightly tease himself through the white sheet covering the lower half of his body and there’s a hitch in his breath at the feeling of his fingertips stroking his cock under the thin material. His eyes flutter closed and he’s got nothing on underneath and it just makes him think of her more because he thinks of how much she loved barebacking, and Harry really fucking loved it. The feeling was indescribable, feeling her so deeply on such an intimate level was something out of this world. With every thought of her his reflexes added more pressure, his body temperature rising with every moment passing by until he’d had enough and nearly rips the sheet away from his lower torso and he’s fisting himself now, chasing his release and all he can think about now is how much better she is at the act in question, so much so that it blew Harry’s mind. He didn’t last long, but at this point he didn’t give two fucks if he had an orgasm or not, he just needed to feel something. He was left in a daze as he pushed himself off the bed and towards the bathroom.

˙· .° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °. · ˙ ‧̍̊

Long, hot showers were created for the sole purpose of contemplating your life, right? Or are they just for trying to cry away a broken heart. He doesn’t know the answer, nor does he know how long he stood there, before tilting his head back and letting the water splash onto his wet locks. Hot water from the shower head hitting his back. After around twenty minutes his skin was numb to the feeling.

In the beginning he’d considered it all, but the reality? She left him, without any sort of reason. Harry’s spent weeks and weeks wracking his brain for something, anything he could’ve done so that he can apologize, make it right. Truly, he hadn’t felt that he’d done anything to upset her. So yes, he had every right to be angry. Maybe it was his fault. He’d spent endless sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of a hotel room, mostly because he couldn't bear to be home because everything reminded him of her, and his mind just couldn’t go there. His nights were spent tossing and turning, doing absolutely nothing until his friends finally convinced him to go out with them.

He didn’t want to admit that it was better than wallowing in self pity all night, but it was. For the next few weeks, all Harry had gotten himself into a cycle. Go out, get drunk, and at the end of the night he’d always be unsatisfied. He kept telling himself he was never going out for the sole purpose to bring a girl that looked like her back to his hotel room, but that’s just what he was telling himself. Deep inside, he was struggling to feel anything. He was angry, sad, and broken.

She didn’t leave her bed for three days. Dejection mercilessly beat up her heart until it felt like there was nothing left. The heartbreak gnawed away at her. She was barely eating, couldn’t sleep and she had no one to blame but herself. She stayed huddled under the covers as she wallowed in self sorrow, knowing all too well that this was all her fault.

It was a travesty. It should have never happened, especially not like this.

The connection they shared was unbreakable. It was evident that nothing could ever raze the bond that they created together. They made the best team, and they were inseparable. Everything was perfect. Harry was charming, loving and softhearted.

Their love was like the ocean. It was tranquil and soothing, yet strong and deep. It was so incredibly breathtaking, but also had the intense potential to destroy. To put it simply, she was damaged. Way before she met Harry, and that was it. She thought she had it under control, she thought that they could make it. They did, for a while, but her demons caught up with her eventually. Everything heightened after she was exposed to all of it. The rumors, the paparazzi, the backlash. It triggered all the worst parts of her, the things that she had kept under control for so long. He tried to help her, tried to fix them. They both tried, but it just wasn’t working.

Now, months later, she was here at the airport. She knew she had to go to him and try to make things right. Clutching her ticket in her hand, she slouched into her chair, staring at all the glowing red words that read “cancelled” across the board. How unlucky was she that she would be stuck at the airport, alone.

“Hi, d’you have any flights t’London for tonight?”

She could hear her heart thumping in her ears when she heard the voice at the desk a few feet away from behind her. It felt like every cell in her body was on fire, she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could happen yet! She was supposed to have a six hour flight to coach herself before this.

“A’right, thank you.”

Oh my god, is he gonna say something? Of course he won't, he hates me.

It felt like she didn’t know him anymore, this boy, this charming, sweet boy that she fell in love with. She was afraid of how angry he is, how bitter that she left.

“Y/N?”

His voice was soft and hesitant, almost shaky.

Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment before looking up at him. He looked dumbfounded, at a loss for words. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw each other. He watched the color drain from her face, and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. There they were, face to face in JFK Airport. Seeing each other for the first time since their downfall.

The tension couldn’t get any thicker. Her eyes were locked onto his face, watching him give a pained expression before quickly brushing past her.

“H, wait—”

“You don’t get t’call me tha’ anymore.”

His voice was cold, biting back at her words over his shoulder. He didn’t stop sauntering across the airport and she struggled to keep up.

“Please...I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?” She implores before pressing her lips together. “Please.”

His teeth clench before stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her.

“Took y’long enough.”

There was no hint of humor in his voice, no Styles charm, no cheeky smile, no dimples, nothing.

“You look good.”

He scoffs, almost rolling his eyes because he know’s that she’s lying. He knows she’s being kind.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Shit.

“Right.” she nods, eyes falling down to his shoes.

“How are you?”

“Miserable.” she answers honestly.

“S’tha’ supposed t’be my fault?”

She felt her waterline start to sting, but he had every right to be bitter.

“No,”

“Fuck, shouldn’t have said tha’, m’sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” she shakes her head dismissively, brushing off his apology. “I deserved that.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Are we really doin’ this right now?”

She gave him a look of desperation, silently begging him to stay. Begging him to listen, even if she didn’t deserve that from him, she knew she didn’t. Harry contemplated whether he should give her any of his time, miss his flight to listen to whatever sorry excuse for an apology she had. But, his heart was still soft for her.

“Where were y’goin?”

“I...I was coming to see you. I thought you’d be in London.”

She was going to London?

“Y’were goin’ t’London?” he quirks, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

She nods. Yeah, to see you.

Harry has the biggest, yet quickest inner battle of his life. He wasn’t sure if letting you back into his house after what happened was the worst decision he’ll ever make or the best one, but he sure as hell felt that it was the right one.

“We can’t talk here.” he muttered, fumbling with his phone once it was pulled out of his pocket. “We can go back to mine.”

Her focus falters, eyes looking at anything but him. she hadn’t been there since…since she fucked up, to put it simply. Her nerves were on the verge of snapping into an anxiety attack.

The car ride to Harry’s house was...well, she couldn’t think of anything more awkward. Except the first moment they had stepped inside his house. Neither of them bothered to get their things out of the back of his car, the luggage quickly forgotten.

It was evident that his energy was extremely low. The discoloration under his eyes was evident and it made her want to cry. She watches in agony as he trudged over to the fireplace mantle, fingertips padding the glass of the frame. Inside was a photo taken when he had taken you on a trip to Norway last October. The two of you were dressed in some cozy pajamas, cuddling on the sofa as Harry took the picture with his camera.

“They weren’t rumors, if you were wondering.”

Her heart aches at his words. She remembered the headlines that ripped at her heart. Tears started to well up in her eyes, intently listening to the broken boy in front of her.

“I was alone, would try and drink ‘til they looked like you.”

Look at me. I’m right here, look at me.

“Said your name.” he murmurs, eyes focused down to where he’s fumbling with his hands. “Didn’t mean too, slipped out.”

Don’t cry, please don’t cry.

“Please look at me.” she cries, desperately trying to reach him, her Harry. “Look at me.”

“Can’t.” he’s shaking his head, locks flopping in front of his face. “I...I-I can’t-”

“Why not.” only a mere second passes by and it’s already too deafening for her to bear. “Tell me.”

“Because, you-” he gulps down a cry but tears are still filling his waterline. “You.”

It feels like time is frozen, like the only thing happening in the entire universe is this conversation.

“What?”

“You.” he looks up and locks his eyes with hers. “It’s you, s’always gonna be you. There’s never gonna be anyone else.”

She takes a step towards him, but he backs away and she swears he flinches and it breaks her heart.

“No, no, no. Y’don’t get t’do tha’. Don’ touch me.”

His words stung like venom inking through her veins.

“H-”

“No!” his eyes turn cold. “If you touch me, I...I won’t make it, I swear. Just- please.”

Just let me love you.

“I…” It’s too much for her to look at him, but she has to say it. He’s quiet, waiting for her to finish.

“I’m sorry.” she cries out, squeezing her eyes closed. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up.”

“Look at me.”

He repeats her previous words. Maybe it’s out of spite, but could she blame him? Not in the slightest.

“You left me!” he snaps. “Why? What…” his chest is rising and falling faster than he can keep up with. “I’ve barely slept since you left, tryin’ t’think of what I did that was so awful.”

Guilt pangs through her as she watches him run his fingers through his hair in frustration, eyes averting to the floor.

“All I’ve ever done was treat y’like a princess,” he murmurs, kicking at the rug beneath his feet. “Sure, we were apart a lot, but I was starting fresh. We finally had time to do anythin’ we wanted. I thought you, of all people, would’ve wanted that.”

“I did, I-I still do.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ it.”

She stayed silent, so he chose to pipe up again.

“Why.”

If she doesn’t say it now, she’ll never say it. This is her once chance to fix things.

“You were talking about things...moving fast, too fast,” she speaks barely above a whisper, the chipped blue polish on her nails suddenly becoming quite interesting. “And with everything that people were saying,”

“Know y’had a hard time, I know tha’. But I thought we worked through it. Then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“I got scared.” he sits down next to her as she’s talking.

“Y’could’ve bloody told me tha’.” relief washes over him, but the temporary emotion is making him forget that the damage had already been done. “Would’ve understood.”

“I know.” she cried. “I panicked, and once I’d left, I felt like I couldn’t come back. I was so scared.”

“Y’can always come back t’me.” his voice is soft and he resists the urge to brush his thumb across her cheek. “I fuckin’ love you. Y’know that. Fuck’s sake, I was calling you, begging you for something.” he pried, not caring to wipe his eyes, now irritated from crying. “Why? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks as you tried to apologize. “I wanted to. I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m so sorry.”

“I want you to tell me everything. Tell me what scares you so we can work through those things together. Don’t just...don’t just leave.”

“It never should’ve happened that way.” she admits. “But I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.” she offers, and his eyes flicker to her face when he feels her fingertips graze his own. “Maybe someday, the time’ll be right for us.”

He loves her. Regardless of what she’s put him through, he loves her.

“Tha’ time could be right now.” he speaks softly, moving his hand to hold hers. “For us.”

She looks up into his eyes, filled with hope and she moves her hands ever so slightly into his hold and he’s holding both of them now, and they're looking into each other’s eyes.

“You think so?”

He nods, squeezing his grip gently. “Know so.” he brings her hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “We can make it.”

#hs1 masterlist #harry styles angst #harry styles writings

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legionofpotatoes · 4 years ago

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we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

#text #another one in my bulleted review series with no rhyme or reason #sorry resident evil fans this could be a painful read pls turn away #i know almost nothing about it but i am gonna be super fake familiar and critical of this one hey ho

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hiccanna-tidbits · 4 years ago

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Do you maybe have some headcanons or Au or something for Moana x Merida? I really like that ship! 🤗and I like your moodboards with moanida! ^^

Anon I need you to know I am literally crying TEARS OF JOY because I have FINALLY received an Ask on this humble little blog and I am OVERJOYED

Yes, I would love to talk about Moanida!!!

I’ve got a few AUs I kinda play around with for them--might make moodboards of them one of these days! A couple I really like are a Mermaid AU and a Selkie AU, probably with Moana as the mermaid/selkie because of her ocean connection??? But I really like the idea of Selkie!Merida too, since it would go so nicely with selkies in Scottish folklore and all that. Either way it solves the geographical issue because they can just swim to each other!!! Also yes, these gay girls crossing literal oceans for each other is absolutely the hill I’m going to die on. I’m also a fan of a sort of Mythology/Goddess AU where like Moana is an ocean goddess and Merida is a volcano goddess of sorts akin to Te Ka with cool lava hair and scary volcanic rock skin and only Moana’s soothing ocean waters can calm her eruptive (heh, get it?) rage. And this also means FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE

Also MOANIDA HEADCANONS YESSSS

I thought up some just for you <3 Some are more general and some are more specific AU-focused so I tried to sort them by AU but there’s probably gonna be some overlap.

General ~Merida is THE most overprotective girlfriend. Like she knows Moana’s independent and can take care of herself, but she absolutely will not tolerate slander of or threats to her girlfriend of any kind. If Merida were to meet Maui at any period in the timeline where he and Moana weren’t really cool yet and he was still being kind of a dick to Moana, Merida would try to fight a literal demigod. She doesn’t give a single fuck. ~Once Merida hears about the Tamatoa Incident, she wants to fight every crab she sees. She also develops a taste for crabcakes and crab rangoons because she starts eating lots of crabmeat solely out of spite. Moana finds this endlessly amusing. ~Moana definitely has the braincell between them. She’s constantly having to hold Mer back and talk her down from starting shit. Merida would unleash the Rage of a Thousand Suns upon her enemies if given half the chance. ~Merida is very physically active and loves working out--she would work out twice a day if given the chance. She’s just really about those exercise endorphins. Moana makes her fresh tropical fruit bowls and tropical fruit smoothies for after her workouts. Merida adores these and eventually she absolutely refuses to drink any smoothies not made by her girlfriend. ~They’re both lowkey caffeine addicts. Merida usually loathes getting up early (unless it’s to work out or go riding with Angus) and will snap at anyone and everyone until she’s had coffee. Moana knows how to get her hands on these really amazing-tasting, obscure types of Polynesian coffee, so she hooks them up with The Good Stuff. After tasting the coffee Moana gets, Merida honestly never wants any other B-tier type of coffee again. ~They love to go sailing in Moana’s boat. In a modern AU where the boat has a motor, Merida likes to make them go really fast for the adrenaline rush and the feeling of wind in her hair. It kinda freaks Moana out to go that fast, but it’s honestly worth it for the look of absolute elation on Merida’s face, and the way she laughs and cheers the whole time. ~Sometimes they like to go out on more calm, tranquil night sails. Once they’re a ways out, they just lie on the deck and stargaze. Moana points out all the constellations to Merida and rambles about how to navigate with them. Merida just turns and watches her with this super-smitten look the entire time. ~Moana teaches Merida some Maori. She teachers her how to say “I love you,” and, at Merida’s request, how to swear. ~Sometimes Moana calls Merida Maori words Mer doesn’t understand. Merida gets mad because she thinks Moana’s insulting her. It turns out she’s just calling Merida a bunch of super sappy Maori pet names. ~Sometimes Merida and Moana just like to talk shit about people who are pissing them off IN Maori, so they don’t understand. ~Whenever Merida absolutely goes OFF on someone for saying something homophobic or sexist or whatever, Moana just stands back and crosses her arms and smirks, and says “Thaaaat’s my girl!” It absolutely never fails to make Merida blush like a madwoman and start blubbering like an idiot and lose her original point completely. ~When they fight, they are SO stubborn, petty, and dramatic about it that they can stay mad at each other for DAYS. For really bad fights, they usually end up needing a mediator (in a RotBTD+ AU, I imagine this would be Rapunzel, Anna, or Hiccup). ~Angus and Pua are best friends. No, I will not be accepting criticism at this time. They get into lots of hijinks and shenanigans, and sometimes they sneak out together and Pua likes to ride around on Angus’s back. When Pua and Angus go missing, Mer and Mo just kind of sigh like “Oh, they’re out adventuring again, aren’t they?” ~Angus also always protects Pua so he never has to be scared of adventuring again!!! Pua still remembers his and Moana’s disastrous first sailing attempt, and Angus makes sure little Pua never gets into danger like that again. ~Hamish, Harris, and Hubert ship it SO hard! Moana turns out to be really good with kids, and has even been known to assist with the boys’ mischief from time to time. They definitely think Moana’s a good person to keep their sister’s chaos in check while not being TOO much of a boring wet blanket stifling her fun. ~Sina absolutely ADORES Merida and basically adopts her and treats her like a second daughter. After hearing Merida doesn’t have the best relationship with her own mom and feels like her mom doesn’t try to understand her or respect that she’s different from her, Sina gets like...SUPER angry and and starts doting on Merida to an almost annoying extent. She never wants Merida to have to feel forced into being someone she’s not, since she saw that with Moana and how much it absolutely KILLED her to be kept away from the ocean. ~Tui is leery of Merida at first, mainly because she seems like she’s going to be a bad influence on his daughter. However, he eventually comes around to her once he sees how much she loves his daughter, and they bond over both being ridiculously overprotective of Moana. ~Fergus also adores Moana, and basically knew Merida was gay from the jump--them dating is 0% a surprise to him. He’s honestly just glad that his daughter has someone more rational and down-to-earth to prevent her from doing anything TOO stupid. ~Elinor meanwhile, traditionalist that she is, is NOT about this whole lesbian thing and would probably be pretty homophobic...at least at first (steaming hot take, I know, she’s just got tradition so far up her ass I don’t know if she’d EVER be okay with her daughter choosing not only to forego marriage to man COMPLETELY--not just delay it--but marry a woman instead, who she couldn’t produce an heir with. Also sorry but I do not like her and probably will not portray her particularly favorably in my HCs sorry not sorry lmao) Maybe she comes around, maybe she doesn’t. I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Although I am not an Elinor fan so I think you already know my take XD ~Moana is grey-asexual grey-aromantic, so she CAN be sexually and romantically interested in people, it’s just...very rare. Merida is basically the only person she’s ever wanted to legit date. Maybe she likes boys too, but she wouldn’t know--she hasn’t found any she’s into thus far. Merida, meanwhile, has always been a raging lesbian, and has had lots of crushes on girls over the years (in an AU where she has the opportunity to, anyhow--ARE there even any girls her age in Dunbroch??? XD). When her parents would read storybooks to her as a kid, she’d always finding herself getting doe-eyed over the “fair maidens” rather than the fearless, ripped warriors who saved them from danger. No crush ever hit her quite as hard as Moana did, though. But Merida knows for a damn fact she isn’t into men--90% of the time she can’t stand them and their antics, and the only men she’s ever really felt any kind of affection for are ones in her family or ones who remind her of one or more of her family members. ~Moana makes Merida flower crowns. Merida grumbles endlessly about how “girly” they are, so Moana hunts down some black flowers to make one with so it’ll look a bit more badass and intimidating. Merida absolutely LOVES it and wears it everywhere. ~Merida teaches Moana how to horseback ride and how to shoot a bow and arrow. She’s pretty not great at either at first, but Merida is incredibly patient with her. This shocks everyone around them, because since when is Merida patient with anyone? ~Merida also teaches Moana swordplay, and they LOVE to spar with each other. Agressive flirting during sparring sessions is very commonplace. If anyone attacks either Dunbroch or Motunui, Merida and Moana are a force to be reckoned with. ~Likewise, Moana teaches Merida how to sail and some kinda basic naval combat skills (i.e. how to shoot that harpoon gun or whatever it was she used to fight the kikimora off). ~They don’t have sex that often because neither of them has that high of a sex drive, but when they do, Merida tops if a strap-on is used. ~Moana is the kind of person who just kinda sings songs to herself as she goes about her daily routine and her chores. Merida loves to listen in because she thinks Moana has the prettiest singing voice on earth. That doesn’t stop her from teasing Moana about “singing all the got dam time,” though. ~Literally ALWAYS cuddling and kissing when they’re watching something together or just doing any kinda idle activity at home together. These girls cannot keep their hands off of each other. They hold hands in public pretty much everywhere they go, and Merida yells at anyone who makes a fuss about it.

Modern AU ~They meet while Merida is studying abroad in Tahiti. Maybe because Maui (who’s Moana’s cousin or older brother or something) has a tattoo parlor, and of COURSE Merida goes in to get some edgy bow and arrow tattoo to piss her mom off. Or maybe Merida is just snorkeling in one of the coves on one of her days off, and she runs into Moana and they just Vibe. ~I also like the idea of them meeting at a bar/nightclub type place in Papeete--like maybe Maui owns the nightclub because he just likes to party like that, and he lets his little sis Moana poke around in there because he’s lowkey a terrible influence XD And maybe one night Moana’s bartending to make a little extra cash and Merida comes in and gets really drunk on like a huge Sex on the Beach or something and starts really clumsily hitting on Moana and Moana gets SUCH a kick out of it. Merida can’t remember much of the flirting the next day, but she and Moana still become fast friends. ~Merida is constantly ditching class to sneak off and go see Moana. Her grades are plummeting. ~When the semester abroad is over, they promise to keep in touch over the internet--although Moana also wants to write letters because she loves the idea of having a pen pal. Merida teases her mercilessly for being so “old-fashioned” but also doesn’t have the heart to say no. ~They end up confessing they like each other over internet chat. Merida damn well knows she’s gay and has for a while now, but she’s terrified of telling Moana she’s into her because she’s really scared Moana’s straight. So when Moana is the one who ends up confessing to Merida, Merida has literally never been happier in her entire life. ~Once Merida graduates, they decide to just say “fuck it” and move to some big seaside city together (for some reason I really like the idea of them living in Los Angeles???). Merida needs to get away from her overbearing mom and Moana just really wants to see more of the world besides the South Pacific, so away they go! ~BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS! They both fucking LOVE musicals, especially those with sapphic undertones (Wicked, anyone?), and will loudly and obnoxiously sing along to the soundtracks, much to the chagrin of all their neighbors. They’re also pretty big theater fans in general--especially Merida, always rather the dramatic type. ~At some point they save up and go to see Wicked on Broadway together. The trip ends up being one of their all-time favorites, and their fridge is covered in goofy, dumb selfies of them in New York. ~Moana goes to every SINGLE one of Merida’s archery tournaments, and every single game of any other sport she plays. Literally no one cheers more boisterously or enthusiastically than Moana does. Whenever Merida hits a bullseye or scores a goal, Moana grins and nudges the people next to her (even if they’re complete fucking strangers) and goes “That’s my girlfriend!!!” ~Merida is a goddamn punk, and is always walking around in spiked jackets, combat boots, and basically any other clothing that says “don’t fuck with me.” She tried to start a punk rock band once, but it ended up falling through because no one would sponsor Merida’s angry screamo songs about smashing the patriarchy. Moana still went to all of their tiny-ass, tacky concerts though, for the few months they were “touring” the city. ~Merida taught herself how to play electric guitar because she thinks it’s Edgy and Cool. Moana really likes to dance, and knows a fair number of traditional Polynesian dances and has even taught a class or two. Merida learns how to play some traditional Polynesian music on the electric guitar so she can play while Moana dances. The combination of hard rock-esque shredding and a very mellow island dance looks extremely bizarre to anyone watching, but the girls absolutely do not care.

@takaraphoenix I said I’d tag you in Moanida content I made and I am a woman of my word!!! Enjoy!!!

Please y’all, send me more asks about my ships!!! I love to talk about them!!!

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years ago

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Any tips for a TF POV fic? I want to write one because I too went through a time in my life when I let feelings bounce off cuz that was easier, but I feel like that's not quite on point for him 🤔

God I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about this and they’re all so wordless and frustratingly evasive to me yet (I am in the process of writing a looooooong T.F. POV fic and it gives me much more trouble than Graves POV, probably because as a person I’m quite a lot more like the T.F. Type in real life lol). But yes, here we go, let me try to express some of what I personally try to have as my hm ‘anchor points’ for his perspective. (Heavy disclaimer that these are just my personal & disorganized little musings and by no means the only or ‘correct’ way to read the character!)

- First of all I agree, the image of ‘bouncing off’ doesn’t feel quiteright -- it’s in the right neighbourhood but the wrong address sort of thing, but it’s really hard to come up with a way to explain how I feel the nuance here.

*insert three hours later spongebob meme here* Okay, so the metaphor I came up with is: T.F.’s relationship to emotions is a direct parallel to his relationship to water/the ocean: it’s scary down there, it’s dark, it’s dangerous, and if he should ever be dumb enough to try to go in too deep it’ll kill him dead because boy oh boy on so many levels this man just did not learn how to swim. As far as he’s concerned any sensible person would simply bob along on the surface in a sturdily built boat and try not to think too much about the weird shit that lives down there in the depths. (In this metaphor the layer of artifice and performance so habitual it’s basically integrated into the fabric of his soul is the boat. Y’know, the part that’s Twisted Fate and not just plain ol’ Tobias. I’ll hasten to add that I think both parts of his identity are equally ‘real’ and equally him, but the Twisted Fate part is like… protecting the Tobias part. Keeping him from drowning, as it were. I’m not sure he’d think of it like that himself for the longest time, though, I suspect he has more of a ‘that man is dead’ attitude towards the Tobias part after Graves is gone)

I think what I’m trying to get at is the idea that to him, raw emotion is as hostile and unknowable and unnavigable an ‘environment’ as the deep ocean. (And the only time we see him willingly go there, physically and otherwise, is for Graves, so you know let’s jot that down first of all lol.)

- He seems to genuinely quite like and be interested in people – how they think, what moves and motivates them, their secrets and foibles. So I tend to try to keep the uh ‘detail work’ in his POV focused in that direction. Priority going like 1) people 2) people’s valuables 3) the relative availability of people’s valuables at this moment if you have clever hands and a very charming smile haha

- One of my favourite things about T.F. is that he seems, I don’t know… quite genuinely good-natured beneath it all? If you back him into a corner some sharp and dangerous things peek out (he has survived in his line of heh ‘business’ for like thirty years, and a lot of it on his own), but for the most part and when unthreatened he has a sort of mildly amused and intrigued live-and-let-live attitude to the world even as he’s conning it that I find deeply charming. Which to me ties in with:

- T.F.’s first instinctive reaction to danger (perceived or real) the majority of the time seems to be ‘Flight’. Confrontation and violence are basically his ‘when literally everything else has failed’ options. (As seen prominently in Burning Tides, where he just keeps running and running and the only time he actually starts throwing punches is when he has to because Graves is in immediate danger and they’re backed into a corner. Which feels like it means something huh lol, I often think about what could actually make T.F. angry enough that he would openly express it and that seems to be the most likely angle for it in my eyes.)

- My take on one of the fundamental differences between Graves and T.F. is that Graves has A LOT of feelings but doesn’t quite know it (or more like can’t quite conceptualize it I should say) – he has a hard time identifying or finding vocabulary for feelings that aren’t some shade of anger. Meanwhile T.F. KNOWS he has feelings, he just doesn’t like it, ardently wishes he didn’t, and will do pretty much anything to run away and not have to engage with them haha.

Another important difference: when brought out of equilibrium Graves gets angry, and T.F. gets scared. I have the feeling that beneath it all he’s scared a lot, and it’s why his persona is so oriented towards gaining control in ways where people don’t realize it enough to even think try to take that control away from him until he’s already long gone. Misdirection as a way of life babEY

- This might be too deep in the ‘my WIP/process specific’ territory to really count as general analysis, but I think it’s there in canon too – there’s almost a feeling that he implicitly feels like he has to make up for some fundamental flaw or lack he has at the core? (Not a weird thing for him to end up feeling, considering what happened to him as a kid.) All the rest of him, all the cleverness and style and charm, is there to ‘make up’ for how at the end of the day he’s… wrong somehow. As Graves, who knows him better than anyone, focuses right in on, a coward. And that is CERTAINLY not the whole truth and even Graves in a full rage relents when he sees the effect the accusation has on him and once he gets the actual facts of what happened. But I think that sense of deep unworthiness is what’s stuck with him emotionally. His people left him because there’s something fundamentally lacking and immoral about him. He lost Graves because he’s not good enough, because he’s a coward who leaves people behind. He deserves to be alone. Mix in a ton of survivor’s guilt to taste, and I think you have the like… core emotional wound he’s constructed around.

There’s also something here about fear of profound powerlessness specifically in situations where words, generally his strongest card that’s not a literal card (har har har oh we do have fun here), simply don’t work right at the moment when he needs them to the most – he tried to beg for his people not to leave him behind, he tried to convince Graves to get the hell out with the rest of the crew… and it didn’t work. (In Burning Tides you see he’s given up even trying to explain himself, he just wants Out in whatever way leaves both him and Graves tolerably in one piece, even if he won’t be understood or heard or less alone afterwards. It takes him until like half way through the entire chase to even THINK about just telling Graves the truth. In all fairness to T.F. it probably wouldn’t have worked at that moment, but it does vaguely crack me up that he didn’t even consider it until all of Bilgewater harbor was already burning merrily behind them fhsajkfa)

- He has a little bit of a (perfectly justified considering his background honestly) chip on his shoulder, especially when it comes to powerful or arrogant people. There seems to be a special satisfaction in outsmarting and robbing specifically rich assholes (which would also be the people who have the most to steal, so y’know good times all round). From his short stories and few places in his bio you almost get the feeling that he has a funny sort of Robin Hood-esque sense of lopsided justice about it. (Robin Hood-esque only so far as to define ‘the poor’ as the eternally hard-strapped ‘T.F. & Graves Waistcoats and Cigars Fund’, of course lol)

I think T.F. both has a mind that tends more towards analyzing the big picture and also has more direct experience with like… structural/systemic powerlessness and oppression. So the cons they pull are probably partly how he channels the emotions that arise out of that (and the rest he just represses, like the relatable guy he is haha)

- Graves being back would cause some IMMENSE internal conflict in him, I feel – of course all the feelings of relief and attachment and love, but also… so much of who he is now came about specifically to find a way to deal with Graves being gone, with seemingly just shutting down the entirety of his need for real human companionship or closeness for like a decade, things that are suddenly starting to be brought online again and must be tremendously stressful to deal with when you’ve had it completely suppressed and deadened for so long. He’s put so much into trying to be fundamentally unattached to anything, anywhere, anyone (and there are some things here about perpetually being an outsider his whole life that I can’t quite put into words, but that’s a dimension too.) That sort of psychological self defense mechanism doesn’t just contentedly nod its head and go away just because something good happened one time haha. Probably a work in progress there huh (at least he’s not alone in it now <3)

PLUS some bonus Graves POV observations because man. I love writing him, he’s just a marvel of a man

- I know I call him a dumbass all the time, but in a street smart way I think he’s actually quite clever haha, he just has a bad tendency to get hung up on an idea and get tunnel sight. (I’ve based this a lot on the short stories but see also more recently his Sentinel skin voice lines for good examples: he’s incredibly straightforward in that ‘well obviously if it doesn’t affect me personally I ain’t gonna give it that much thought’ way, but you also have glimpses of surprising insight/shrewdness and… I don’t quite know how to put it, but something like an ability to get to the bottom line of something without getting caught up in the details. (I suspect T.F. does find himself lost in the details quite frequently, he’s much more attached to the decorative curlicues of the world.) Graves clearly & frequently has no idea what’s going on, but he strips things down to the essentials very quick: Lucian’s story as a direct thematic mirror to Viego’s, Is There A Sun Lady – Oh, I See, all of this is weird and creepy and needs shooting, and maybe most crucial of all: Isolde doesn’t want to be with her husband anymore so what he’s doing is just like. Extra shitty. He gets what he needs to get and then just barges ahead heedlessly with that. Icon.)

- He’s actually pretty darn eloquent in a gruff sort of way and uses some quite sophisticated vocabulary! And the way this is contrasted with the tendency to slip into blunter coarser language just as readily -- like when he takes the time to describe the monster that takes down the Prince’s ship in such poetic terms as ‘gargantuan’ and ‘the behemoth’s immense, distended jaw’ and it having ‘pallid dead eyes the size of the moon’, and meanwhile during his swim at the beginning of the story we get bastard cold and bastard dark and full of bastard jellyfish and crabs – brings me such immense and unending delight

- He’s more eloquent in his internal voice than he is when speaking (especially noticeable in Destiny and Fate; he does have a tendency to fumble his words when talking lol), and he gets quite easily lost in his own meandering reflective musings in a way I find incredibly endearing. I’d almost call it whimsical at times, honestly, hilarious as that is? Like when he’s literally so absorbed in a line of thought he forgets which way they’re rowing and T.F. has to remind him. (I think T.F. generally has more of a grip of what’s going on around them than Graves does lol)

- There’s an important distinction to be made that Graves actually does, by and large, read T.F: very closely and seemingly also pretty damn accurately. He’s good at (and clearly very interested in) reading his moods, spotting what tactics he’s using interpersonally, when he’s being genuine and when he’s being dissembling.

What Graves is actually bad at is understanding his own emotions, and to not bleed those emotions into other people’s motivations and behavior, especially when he’s upset or in heightened states of feeling, like he is all the way through Burning Tides. He can only name his own feelings in a vocabulary of anger, when it’s pretty clear from the subtext that there’s a whole bunch of other stuff going on there, and he has incredible trouble divorcing those feelings from what other people’s got going on with them right then. He feels hurt, betrayed, and undone by everything that’s happened to him, so the intention to hurt, betray and undo must live in the other person who he feels caused it. In less drastic cases you see him do this a bit when he feels like T.F. is being evasive with him – taking it as a form of rejection rather than realizing T.F. is just lost in his own thoughts, sort of thing. There’s a real improvement in this one between Burning Tides and Destiny and Fate, though, so maybe he’ll have an easier time of it with some time and practice.

Sorry it took so long to get back to you on this and that it’s a bit of a rambling mess, words have been real hard recently. Or rather I have too many words, all the time, left and right, I just can’t put them into the right orders to make any sense hahaha, I hope there’s some useful point in this somewhere for you at least!

#hopefully this makes some kind of sense my brain is in... a state but it was actually really nice to just focus on some character analysis!#tf x graves #league of legends #twisted fate

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nuatthebeach · 4 years ago

Text

New Ginny

Link to AO3 for comments/reviews

"You know this was not what we had in mind for a low budget vacation, Winston!"

"You said you wanted to go somewhere you couldn't find at home."

"So, why would you take us to the beach all the way across the country, man?!" Sand shot in the air as an angry kick on the shore was executed effortlessly by the man Schmidt himself. "We live in freakin' LA! There's beaches crawling out of everywhere! And you wonder why no one lets you choose any of our vacation spots anymore, ya freak."

Cece threw up a hand in exasperation, diamond ring winking in the sun. "Yeah, why didn't you just tell us we were going to the beach, Winston? We could have saved a lot by just taking a car nearby instead of you surprising us with these 'low cost' plane tickets."

"See, you guys don't get it. I told y'all we were going on a cheap trip we ain't never done before, right?" Winston's smile brightened, the look of misguided, twisted comedy overtaking his expression with alarming speed. "And then, boom, I took y'all to the beach. On the East Coast. Ha! You just got Bishoped!"

Nick shook his head, right hand rubbing wearily against his face, looking just as tired as the rest of them. "You've gotta stop with your pranks, man."

"Y'all should've seen the look on my face - "

"Y- Seen the look on your face?"

The only word to describe the look on Schmidt's face was 'flabbergasted.'

" - When I swiped y'all's credit credit cards last month as you were all arguing with Nick over that Flat Earth theory video on YouTube - "

"When they asked the guy about his qualifications, he answered 'critical thinker'! Does that sound like someone who would just lie to you?!"

" - And for your only holiday weekends too! And, man, Nick is so broke right now! I was trying so hard to hold it in!" Winston was absolutely beaming with mirth at this point, reducing his friends' sense of camaraderie towards him to a terrifying low. "You know, you guys should really be checking your billing history more often, for real, someone could really be stealing from you, and you'd have no idea."

Before Winston could register Schmidt's increasingly tomato red face, something else in his periphery caught his attention. "Damn it, Ferguson, don't go near that water! It is not your friend, baby!"

"What type of idiot lets a cat roam free on the beach!"

While Cece attempted to alleviate the pressure between Schmidt's tightly clenched teeth, an irritated look overpowering her own, a low voice spoke from behind. "Are your friends always like this?"

Ginny, who had been laughing at her loftmates' antics and was surprisingly not feeling as bothered by Winston's tendencies as the rest of them (this vacation is, after all, well-deserved after the shitty week I've had, and every second counts, even if they are each spent planning Winston's upcoming ultimate demise), turned around to see an incredibly fit man her age speaking to her directly.

Sweeping her eyes over his form once, she leaned closer. "I'm afraid they are, yes, but I've got to warn you I'm not much better."

He seemed equally as amused as her. "How so?"

"Well, as you can tell from my completely American accent," she deadpanned in her British accent, amused when the stranger rolled his eyes in response, "my sense of humor is a bit dry. Superior, of course, but I'm told some people can't handle it."

"Natural selection will handle that, I hope," he chuckled.

"If we're lucky," she smiled. Feeling particularly introductory that late afternoon, she gestured halfheartedly to the obnoxious chatter several meters ahead of her. "My loftmates here, on the other hand, each have an equally questionable sense of humor themselves."

"Who, those few?"

She rolled her eyes, failing to prevent the corner of her lips from quirking upwards. Pointing to the man who was now dragging an increasingly wet and agitated cat from the Atlantic ocean, his jeans completely soaked from the knees down, Ginny drawled, "That idiot over there who cost us a proper, well-earned vacation is Winston. The only thing this man loves more than crazy pranks is his even crazier cat, who I'm pretty sure doesn't even know he exists. Needless to say, I've really never been more envious of a cat's attention span myself."

Moving on to Schmidt and Cece who were lying on the shore as far away from Winston as much as possible as a form of spite, Ginny explained matter-of-factly, "Schmidt and Cece don't have a cat, but that won't stop them from also making ear infection-inducing noises at six in the morning through our paper thin walls."

Pointing to the last couple on the beach, she continued, "Not like Nick and Jess are any better, though. They like to make weird noises too, but it's not always during sex, and that scares me more than it should anyone, really."

She gestured to herself. "And last but not least, you have me, whose most normal experience of today is having a fit guy at the beach wonder out loud about how five idiots managed to drag their even more fit loftmate out of her comfortable bed and into an expensive five hour flight. Just to do the same things that I easily could have done if I just took a simple albeit very long stroll outside. And I would have had a much better view, too, no offense to your rather peculiar looking ocean over here. What shade of contaminated gray would you call that hue, by the way?"

"No, that's a pretty accurate way of describing it, actually. I'd like to think there is some green in there, though. Just to give it the illusion of appearing to be clean." Reluctantly, Ginny had to agree.

The stranger's lips pressed firmly in amusement the entire time she was talking - ranting, more like - clearly trying to not give her the satisfaction of knowing how funny and charming he thought she was.

She found that endearing. They all try at first.

Eventually, he settled with: "So you and, uh, Winston, are the only two people in the loft who are not coupled up?"

She raised an eyebrow, impressed by his nerve. "Pretending to ignore your intentions for asking such a tactfully worded question, no, actually, when Winston's not too busy canoodling with his cat, he's canoodling his girlfriend - Aly - back at home, but she couldn't make it here today, lucky girl. So it's just me."

Finally smiling now, the stranger ignored her challenging look ('why are you so curious about my relationship status, you hot, inquisitive, none-of-your-business stranger?') and asked her teasingly, "Aren't there a lot of people to fit in just one loft?"

"I mean, we're from LA. Rent there is mad, so we need all the help we can get," she shrugged. "But, yeah, most definitely breaking some housing rules here or there. Is that something that bothers you?"

He smiled, something akin to arrogance taking over his face. She found that look more stirring than she'd like to admit out loud. "You'll find I'm not really the rule caring type."

"Oh? When would you imagine I'd be finding that out?"

She was beyond the point of caring how brazen she must have sounded to a complete and utter stranger. And if she was being honest with herself, she never did care, really. Besides, if she was going to fit a hot summer romance in the span of a whole day, she thought she might as well get on with it.

He cleared his throat, his gaze silently indicating how much he'd like to agree with her on that one, too. "Okay, Miss Dry Humor. I guess I know everything there is to know about your loftmates without risk of my mind being fully blown apart, now. What's your story?"

"What's yours?"

He chuckled at her retort though immediately furrowed his eyebrows afterward, as if he was confused by this question himself.

Ginny did not know what to think of that, though she found a strange fog overtaking her when she tried to ponder on her own personal history too.

Strange.

Instead, she prompted, trying to clear her mind, "You're a lifeguard here, right?"

He looked down at his form, a lanyard draped across his increasingly interesting collarbone and a whistle resting just above his bare chest.

"I can't swim."

She blinked.

"What?" she laughed. "Isn't that, like, a hazard for what you do?"

"Probably," he said sheepishly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. "I don't mean to, like, put anyone in danger or anything. It's a long story, but basically, I'm covering for my friend while he's, um...making noises with his girlfriend, as you said. Hence, the whistle right here. So I'm not really a lifeguard. But if anything happens, my other friend - an actual reliable lifeguard - can help you out. He's right over there nearby."

He pointed to another dark-haired, attractive man standing farther away from them along the shore. At first, Ginny thought he was winking at her, but when she saw the tension building along the shoulders of the stranger next to her, she knew who that teasing look was meant for.

"Sorry about him. He thinks I'm trying to make a move on you."

"Oh? Is that not what's happening right now?"

His cheeks flushed slightly. Ginny found it amusing how this man could be so confident but also so shit at flirting too. It strangely caused warmth to expand, but this time it was not through her lower belly.

"I don't want him to think that, though. I'd never hear the end of it."

It was not a direct answer to her question, but his eyes were so soft and mischievous that she had no doubt as to what he really meant.

She rolled her eyes anyway. "I thought you Americans were supposed to be more direct than that."

He scoffed, eyes lighting up at her jibe. "Oh, I see. You're one of those. Dry humor doesn't have to equate to being mean, you know."

Ginny laughed. "Well, that's why my loft arrangement works out so well with this lot over here," she jabbed her thumb to her friends, watching as Ferguson was attempting once more to drown himself in the ocean to escape his owner's clingy attentiveness. "My sense of humor is mean and dry, and their sense of humor compensates by being mean and wet."

He coughed. "Wet?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, pretending like she hadn't made any suggestive comment whatsoever. "Well, occasionally we do like to alternate, though."

"Of course."

"If I was always dry, and they were always wet, we'd have a different problem altogether."

He barked out a laugh, his cheeks flushing again. "How are you even real?"

"Well, anything's possible if you've got enough perv."

The man's breath hitched, his green eyes staring at her intensely. Despite her earlier insult, Ginny thought the color reminded her exactly of the ocean they were at now, something much stormier than the one back in California.

She found herself growing fond of this beach in a way she was not before.

"Do I know you? I swear I feel like I met you before."

She leaned closer to him, fighting feeling flustered herself. "I've probably got one of those memorable faces or something."

"Something like that." His eyebrows furrowed, but his lips were still upturned. "I'll certainly remember it much later today anyways."

His ears promptly reddened.

She gasped playfully, smiling as she hit him lightly on his very fit arm. "You are much smoother than you look. And randier."

He laughed. After a short while of them standing in a silence filled with smirks and silky sheet-like possibilities, he finally asked, "Okay, Miss Dry Occasionally Wet Humor - "

"Nice."

He bit back another chuckle. "What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

He rolled his eyes ("stubborn too"), he relented, "I'm Harry."

She chuckled, shaking his hand that was offered to her mockingly. She tried to ignore how well it fit in her own small one.

"Ginny."

He watched her nose crinkle, a deep smile spreading across both of their lips contentedly.

It was something tangible, she thought, as her insides fired up, not out of lustful heat - though certainly that too - but something warm, like receiving hugs after being shoved outside in a freezing tent in the woods for months and months, with nothing but a piece of marked parchment to keep one sane.

Parchment?

Something within her squirmed, and she thought that if she listened closely enough, the sounds of seagulls cawing in the distance could easily be replaced by something akin to an audience crooning in sympathy.

As if watching a pair of hopeless lovers on a silver screen.

Suddenly, Nick's comically high pitched scream filled the air, allowing Ginny to shake her head at her crazy thoughts.

"It's just a ghost crab, Nick!" Jess yelled from far away, annoyed as her boyfriend jumped on her back in fright, almost causing her to topple over herself.

"Why are there crabs and ghosts, Jess! You can't have both! You know I always told you that crustaceans are the cockroaches of the sea! It's a crazy world out here!"

At Jess's blank stare, Nick chuckled incredulously, his last brain cell firing meekly. "Wait. I get it. You're teasing me, Jess. Ghosts aren't real. Psh. Nice try."

Nick's neck cricked as he glanced around in paranoia.

Jess rolled her eyes, attempting to drop him down from her back but failing badly, his legs wrapped around her like a vice. "Ghost. Crabs. Nick. I don't know why you're even scared of them - they even walk sideways like you do!"

"They should not be blending in with the sand like that! They're all spooky ghosts! It's not right!"

"You. Are. So. Infuriating, Miller!"

As Nick hopped off of Jess to moonwalk away from the ghost crabs, a thought came to Ginny.

"They kind of remind me of..." Both Harry and Ginny said at the exact same time, causing them to stare at each other hastily.

When neither of them finished their sentences (what even was I going to say anyways?), Ginny huffed. "Right," she said, "Well, I've got to head back now before Nick finds out that it's getting late, which can only mean that more ghost crabs are bound to be crawling all over the place soon."

He laughed but quickly became alarmed when she made to leave. "Wait."

She turned around, hand cupping her forehead to squint at him through the waning sun. Harry swallowed, eyes drifting to her red hair in a daze.

Before he could say anything, however, Schmidt and Winston's obnoxiously loud voices were shrill above the sounds of the waves crashing ahead of them.

"Of all places for a prank!" Clearly, Schmidt's ability to let things go was about as weak as Ginny's right hook. "Why did you decide to take us here in the end?"

"As in, why the East Coast and not a beach in a whole other expensive ass country? Damn, now that would have been a better prank."

Four legs reached out to kick sand in Winston's face, Ferguson following with a screech.

"But to be honest, I couldn't wait to see what the sunset looks like on the other side of the country."

Pause.

"Winston! We are on the East Coast! The sun falls west at night time! Look at where the sun is now," Schmidt gestured aggressively behind him, where towering beach homes covered the view. "You can't see the freakin' sunset on this beach, man!"

"Aw, damn, my bad."

"How are you actually one of the more intelligent people I know in my life?!"

If there was one thing she and Schmidt shared, Ginny concluded, it was their inability to handle rage.

Her eyes flitted to Jess, who was trying to catch her attention.

Ginny chuckled, holding up a hand to let her loftmate know to wait there when she saw her smiling knowingly towards her and Harry. She watched as Jess's eyebrows waggled dramatically, stuffing her index finger through a hole she made with her other hand in repetition as she chomped down on her lip.

Completely unfazed by her loftmate's quirks at that point, Ginny turned to Harry again.

"If we can't do that sunset, I suppose I'll have to make plans for a sunrise tomorrow before we head back to LA, then. Join me?"

His answering smile could make a grain of sand feel alive.

She had the strangest feeling that the sound she could have sworn she heard a while ago was ringing faintly in her ear once more.

This time, she thought she heard boisterous whoops instead, clapping cheerfully as Ginny smiled one last time to Harry before finally walking toward her friends.

…

Click Here to Play the Next Episode - >>|

(Autoplay in 3…2…)

#so i may have wrote a crack crossover for hinnys birthday #im a little late but here you go #hinny #meet cute #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #this was written for the harry and ginny discord birthday challenge #new girl #who's that girl #its gin #i wrote this a while ago so idk if i entirely love it but oh well

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

Hyello, okay so. I don't have the emotional energy to take in and discuss everything in that chapter so imma just gush over the info cause I am a ✨whore✨ for world building.

So obviously MOC SPOILER

hi bestie HELLO guess WHO!!! finally ANSWering!!! altho im gonna answer separately and space everything out all Neatly bc im all over the place so strap IN we’re going on an moc RIDE!

THERE'S A WHOLE SIREN COMMUNITY?! AND YN AND IT MUST BE WOOYOUNG WERE FRIENDS? SIRENS HAVE A FULLY FLEDGE COMMUNITY WITH PRIESTS AND SCHOOLS AND MULTUOLE CITIES TO SOME EXTEND??? MAYBE EVEN AN ENTIRE PLANET WITH SIRENS MAYBE THEIR ORIGIN PLANET? HOW MANY TYPES OF SIRENS ARE THERE AND IN THE COMMUNITY HOW DTRICT ARE THE DIFFERENT ROLES?!?! ALSO DOES THE SIREN COMMUNITY ALLOW FOR DIFFERENT TYPES OF SIRENS TO BE TOGETHER? OBVIOUSLY THEY SHOULD BUT ARE THE CHILDREN THEN HYBRID TYPES, LIKE WHEN WE GET BLUED DARK SKIND BABIES OR CAN A SKREN ONLY BE ONE TYPE. WHAT POWERS DO SIRENS HAVE AND DOES THE POWERS REFLECT THEIR PERSONALITY AND DO THE DIFFERENT TYOES LEAN TOWARDS CERTAIN JOBS. LIKE WE JUST LESRNED THE OCEAN GOTTA BE PRIESTS BUT MOON ISNT STRICT WHAT ABOUT FIRE. AND IS YN INSTIC TO PULL OUT A HEART CAUDE HER PERSONALITT, TRSUMA OR IS IT RELATED TO THE MOON. ALSO CAUSE ITS A RED MOON WHICH IS COMMONLY A BLOOD MOON, IS YN THEN A SPECIAL MOON SIREN AND THATS WHY HER POWERS ARE STEONGER OR HER INSTICTS TO USE THEM ARE STORNGER BUT THEN THE MILITARY FUCKED HER UP. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

now this is the thing im biting my tongue on SO HARD bc it’s my favorite aspect of the world building and the universe and everything involved in it bUTIHDFKJG THERS SO MUCH I WANNA SAYYYYYYYYYY in short that one dream sequence holds more hints and information than ANYTHING from previous chapters, i think that it’s probably the MOST IMPORTANT dream to date. while we’ve seen some crazy ones in the past, this one is both the biggest hint and the biggest window into y/n’s past by FARRRR. even tho that whole scene was dialogue i think there’s so much to pick up on from it and so much to see and learn from it and it’s one of my faves bc there’s so much to unpack from it !!

Like yes the story and the development is freaking ✨yes✨ I love it. Genuinely think moc should be released as books. But I just cannot deal with the emotions rn.

But also now all I'm going to be thinking about how many sirens are actually out there. And if yn knew her parents and wasn't just an orphan the military found in the streets... How the fuck did she end up in the military grasps. What happened to her parents what happened to the community, is it still out there? Guess I gotta go back and reread the galaxies and the backstories, obviously I must have missed or have forgotten something. Ugh how the puzzle pieces are puzzling (or something). Moc is a drug and I'm not going sober anytime soon

(obviously you don't have to respond to my questions, this is more just an insight into the spiralling of theories going on in my mind)

releasing moc as books? a dream and a half, i can say that much slkjdlgkjlkf but back to the sirens... how many are out there? we heard early on that hongjoong was looking for ‘the last five’ but then seonghwa debunked that and said that was a mistranslation over time that was passed down and such, but beyond that, we don’t really know much about sirens as a whole? there are some hints in the galaxies and planet descriptions but if that dream sequence is a puzzle, i would say we have a handful of pieces that can be put into place based on what we’ve learned so far!!!!

Okay I lied, I am ready to unpack a little of the ✨emotions✨

When hongjoong explained that hwa tried to stop San only for San to detain him and in a sense make him watch the scene unfold. And then realising hwa had to go through that again, only being even more helpless. I don't doubt hwa loves San, but to see the events happening again, with someone he clearly loves as much as he does yn even if he also loves joong, and to see the desperation and determination must have been just. Horrible. Just absolutely soul breaking horrible. I can imagine him vowing to himself after San that he would never let something like that happen again. That of any of the crew got out of control like that, that he would fight harder to stop them. That he would would do absolutely everything in his power to stop it. And then being helpless as he watched yn do it. Just pure heart wrenching pain. And it must have been beyond terrifying to see someone you love ready and determined to kill themselves partly from rage and partly from desperation. With the backstory, that scene becomes almost as cruel as the warehouse scene with San. The only redeeming quality is no one needing life saving surgery in a time crunch, otherwise they would be the same level of ✨never again✨

honestly i think the two crew members i torture the most are san and hwa bc i just keep putting them thru all this shit and hurting them so much but really this was the defining point of why seonghwa was so afraid. before we kinda just knew he was afraid of yn and hongjoong was mad about it. in this revelation we get to see the source of the trauma and how it was amplified by it being someone he loves as dearly as he loves yn. and for sure when first reading that scene of yn and jisung in the brig, it’s meant to evoke a sense of anger and rage like yn is so angry to a point where she would do this sort of thing, but my hope with that scene was also to show that desperation. that when looking back at it after having already seen the rage and the aftermath, that reading it again shows how desperate and hopeless she was in that moment. which is exactly the same emotion that was evoked back in that warehouse scene with san, except it was relayed differently because the warehouse was a more immediate sense of desperation. this brig scene was meant to emulate that but in a slow burn kinda way where the veil of realization is pulled off after the fact and not in the moment!!!

Just to make sure you don't misunderstand. Those asks were compliments. You are an absolutely incredible writer. And the fact that you aren’t afraid of hurting your characters *cough cough* SHOOTING SAN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? *CLEARS THROAT AGRESSIVELY* just makes the story much better. No one gets plot armour, making it more realistic (?) and really draws in the writer and sorta imitates the fear and desperation the characters feel

PLS don’t worry, i live for every moment and i live for these open and raw and genuine conversations i didn’t take any as an insult i PROMISE!! i think part of the nature of this whole trope of space pirates and criminals is that hter is no guarantee of safety! i don’t wanna have to cut corners to make sure everyone stays unharmed and undamaged throughout the story when the nature of the world i’ve built thus far is a wildly dangerous one!!! i always say that i try to be as realistic as i can, all things considered, and i think that’s the biggest thing that adds to the ‘realism’ in my mind so im so happy to hear that you see it and appreciate it and enjoy it!!!

OHOHOHOHOHOH ALSO

YN GRIPPING SOMEONES HEART??? YOU WRITE THAT SO FUCKING WELL. LIKE ENIGUH DETAILS THAT WE KNOW WHATS GOING ON, BUT ALSO NOT SO MANY DETAILS SO IT GETS DETACHWD FROM THE STORY. LIKE THE LACK OF CLEAR SUPER MANY DETAILS REALLY MADE IT THAT *YOU ARE EXPERIENCING THIS, NOT JUST READING IT* LIKE IT MADE IT WAY MORE EMOTIONAL AND OERSONAL AND THE READER REALLY GOT IMMERSED IN THE MOST HORRIBLE WAY THAT KUST MADE IT ALL RHE MORE BETTER. ALSO JOONG AFRAID????? JOONG REALISING HE GOT A FULLY FLEDGED HEART RIPPER SIREN WHO CANT CONTROL HER BODY TO MOVE THROUGH A HARMLESS DOOR BUT CAN DEFINITELY KILL IN A HEARTBEAT (OR TWO 👀) ALSO THE CONTRAST OF REMOVING RHE BLOOD COLOURED WHITE OLASTIC AND HAVING A CLEAN HAND UNDERNWATH. THE SYMBOL OF IT ALSO BEKNG A TRASH CLEANERS SUIT. LIKE SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY USE THE TRASH PROTECTION DUIT FOR ITS INTENDED PURPOSE. ALSO THE OART WHERE SHE SAYS SHES FINE EVEN TJO SHE ISNT. AT FIRST I READ IT AS HER TELLING HERSELF TO LIE BUT THEN I REALISED ITS HER ADMITTING SHE VERY MUCH ISNT. AND SAN NOT KNOWING???? AND KISSING HER HAND AND UGH AND SEONGHWA KNOWING. I BET HE'S LOWKEY GETTING MORE AND MORE AFRAID OF HER. LIKE YN IS READY TO KILL HERSELF AND ANYONE AROUND HER TO KEEP SAN SAFE. AND SHE INSTICTUALLY GOES FOR THE MODT AGRESSIVE METHOD POSSIBLE. IHHHHHHHHHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL WTITING AND YOUR TWISTED MIND THAT CAN CREATE ALL THESE FUCKING SCENES THAT GOT ME THUNKING AND FEELING ✨EMOTIONS✨

truly one of the HIGHLIGHTS of the chapter simply bc of how shocking and sudden it is!! for me, that was one of the easiest scenes to write in the chapter, oddly enough? it was something that when it came time to write it, i knew how i wanted it to be and was able to just sit down and write it out the way its written in the final draft of the chapter. i really love playing with those aspects of fiction and storytelling. tangible to a point, without spelling it out. i think it’s obvious that i really love delayed realization in writing, but i really like playing with how the brain processes information and for me personally, i don’t pick up on things right away! i can realize them in a snap or it can take me a bit to go ‘oh god that’s what happened’, and i like playing with that in y/n’s character a LOT.

and in that same vein of thought, there are some layers to that scene as well when compared to the door scene. in the door scene we saw hongjoong clearly tell y/n ‘you need to do this to save san’ yet she wasn’t able to do it despite trying and believing hongjoong. then in the heart scene we saw y/n clearly tell herself ‘you need to do this to save san’ and she did it then. so there’s a lot at play in that parallel alone too. and with that internal monologue she has of im fine vs not fine, then san kissing the hand that touched a literal real actual beating heart for me that was a sort of self indulgent scene and i was really worried about it coming across as too cheesy or something like that, but that is something that’s gonna impact y/n as a character and her relationship with san when they have the conversation of ‘oh hey i put my hand through a man’s chest for you’

i think part of why this chapter was so difficult to construct and write as a whole definitely is because of all the undertones and nuances throughout, and in a lot of ways it’s so so much to even think about that it’s almost too much packed into one chapter alone, but even if you don’t pick up on all the nuances throughout, i’m hoping to revisit them and bring them back around in that delayed realization style again bc that’s one of my favorite things to do ofc :3

#21y redeemed fool #mists of celeste #moc: spoilers #caly answers #sorry i wrote you a whole essay in response oh my god?!??#T_T

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spice-chan · 5 years ago

Text

Runaway Omega

Katsu’s End .

Bakugo moved toward you in one stride, gulping worriedly as he looked you over.

You breathed out, feeling the pain dull and disappear.

“I’m fine now, but can you two try and not fight for one second ?”

Bakugo looked away and kissed his teeth, glaring at the ground. You hated how you recognized that as him being guilty and acknowledging his wrong.

You turned to Shoto, slightly remorseful at your coming request, but this has to be done in private.

“Sho, could you please let me talk to Bakugo alone?”

Shoto looked between you and Bakugo, his stare hardening as he tried to protest.

“But -“

“Shoto, I have to do this in private please.” You coaxed. He sighed in reluctance, bit gave in and pecked you, staring at Bakugo while he was at it and reveling in his jealousy rolling off in waves.

“Who the fuck is that ?” Bakugo asked. His anger seemed so evident with his clenched jaw and murderous red pools staring at you. He wasn’t shouting, but this was like a volcano, threatening to erupt and destroy everything in it’s wake.

“That’s Sho...my Alpha.” You said.

And erupt it did.

His face starting to show the semblance of his scales as patches of red starting appearing on his skin, his eyes got so black, it was like you were staring Thanatos in the eye.

He stalked towards you, barely able to contain his Alpha, as he urged him to do what he should have done years ago.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your head sideways to bare your neck to him as he leaned down and sniffed it. His growl near your ear was low, yet the barely there sound sent shivers down your spine.

“His stench is all over you.” He growled in distaste. He can smell that bastard all over you, and he was teetering on the edge of giving in to his urges and white, hot anger.

You pulled yourself together, willing yourself not to give in to his charm as you always had, with his tempting caramel scent, daring you to pluck the apple and take a bite. But the sweetness of the forbidden fruit is nothing but ethereal, while sweet, it was never everlasting.

You pushed him away. Stammering out with a flushed face , “ why do you care anyway ? I could have an Alpha, or two if I wish to, lasting time I checked, I wasn’t wanted by you.”

Her biting words brought sadness upon him. He is the reason they are where they are, the reason his Omega had to go through her pregnancy alone, or rather, with that wretched Alpha.

Bakugo cupped the back of your head and brought you into a warm embrace, his arms caging around you.

“Bak-“

“It’s Katsuki ! Always has been and always will be !” He shouted, still keeping you in his caramel and firewood scented embrace.

“I never meant any of it ...God, a few days after I was back at your door, sniffing around for your scent like a starved dog.” He choked at. Your heart clenched at the sight of his tear stained eyes, the vermilion shining like rubies.

“You said what you did Katsuki...I can’t simply believe that you didn’t mean it, there must have been some truth in there.” You explained.

“NO!” He yelled.

He cradled your face in his hands, the face he worshipped for the better part of his life. The one that plagued his dreams, and sometimes even the cruelest of his nightmares.

“I -“ he suddenly got tongue tied, the words he left unspoken when he shouldn’t are at the tip of his tongue. “I love you (y/n), and I’m sorry I didn’t show it, but I’ll be damned if I leave you to some other Alpha, you’re mine, no one can change that.”

It’s not like Bakugo never said the L words to you before, but he kept it at minimum, due to his own biting nature, but also because of the incredibly happy, adorable expression you made every time that made him want to take on the world for. He was a simp for that expression, and he hated weakness. Now all he wanted was to see it again.

Your expression was troubled.

“Katsuki, you said I’m beneath you, so why am I suddenly important to you ? I won’t let you play me like a fiddle and then toss me like I’m worthless when you’re angry.” You said, maintaining your resolve.

Katsuki looked like he was about to protest, when you firmly reminded him.

“Besides, I have an Alpha, who always makes me feel cherished and loved. He’d never tell me I’m beneath him.”

Your words brought a mix of jealousy and self loathing through him. The male gritted his teeth, but even he knew, he had no right to be angry when he said that shit to her.

“Well, you should have talked to me.” He still tried to defend his stance though.

“What was there to say ?”

“Should of said you were leaving, that you didn’t want to be with me, that you were pregnant, fuck, you should have just said something !”

“Bakugo, you made it clear that you didn’t want me to be a part of your life, you don’t need someone distracting you ! You wanted me to leave you the fuck alone, so I did !”

Words that were left unsaid were tumbling out of your mouth, unburdening you with their weight.

“And I didn’t know I was pregnant until I left.”

A silence took over Katsuki, he knew you were right, but he’ll be damned if he lets you go, especially into the arms of another man. He loved you too much, and love was selfish.

He hugged your midsection, where the pup that’s a mixture of the two of you lied. He started purring, the familiar sound stirring up buried feelings.

Your Omega however, still didn’t respond to him.

“Shitty Omega, you think I’m going to let you leave me again ? No, no, no. I can’t let you and our pup leave me, I love you, and I will live our pup too, you just have to see the best in me one more time.”

You turned away, unable to look at his pleading eyes. You didn’t want to betray Shoto like that, but you hates how he pulled at your heartstrings, like a puppeteer, moving the strings how he wishes.

Bakugo refused to leave. He’s stayed, with the excuse of wanting to be there for his pup, which wasn’t entirely an excuse. He always feared how he might be as a father, but he couldn’t hell the joy at imagining a little pul of his own, with you. God, you looked angelic, he could only hope that the pup inherits your looks, so he could always see you in their.

.....

Shoto walked near the ocean, where he first met you, trying to destress.

Wishful thinking.

“SHOTO” a booming voice called out. Shoto looked startled for a second, until that transformed into disdain upon seeing the object of his hatred.

“What are you doing here ?” Shoto asked coldly.

“Shoto, why did you leave ?” Enji asked, not concealing the sorrow in his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious ?”

A silence enveloped them.

Enji swallowed, looking to the ground in remorse, the remorse that Shoto refused to believe his father harbored.

“You left because of me, but please Shoto, you need to come back.” Pleaded Enji.

“And why is that ?”

“Your mother Shoto, she’s very ill, and had been since you left.” Enji confessed, making Shoto’s heart drop.

His ...mother ?

But he got a grip on himself quickly. This could be a foil play to get him back willingly.

Sho scoffed, turning a scornful eye to the esteemed king Enji.

“And I should believe you because ?”

“You don’t have to, but I know you, you will never forgive yourself if your mother dies without seeing you.”

He was right. Shoto loved his mother too much for that.

But Shoto knows, he couldn’t bring you with him on this risky journey. His father might be lying, and he doesn’t want to think about it or imagine it but; he might hurt you.

“I am going to give the throne to either you or one of your brothers, then taking your mother to the West to find a suitable doctor.” Enji said. It was that serious huh ?

Shoto loved you, and could see himself spending the rest of his life with you but, if it puts your life at risk, then Shoto will gladly chose your happiness over his.

You were the companion that eased his loneliness, and he will be forever grateful to you for showing him the light in this darkened world.

.....

“So how did you find me ?” You asked Bakugo as you sat down in the living room with him, eating strawberries.

He smirked at that. If you thought you could hide, you were sourly wrong.

“I sent spies to each village, keeping an eye on any healers that don’t reside in the castle, or anyone that looks like you. You weren’t as discreet as you could have been.” He explained, then added.

“Plus, that women you helped wasn’t secretive, she ratted you out with the promise of money.”

Well damn, that one stung. Is that how she repays you ?

Bakugo took notice of your soured expression.

“That’s why I tell you to be careful, dumbass.” He reprimanded.

“I don’t regret it though, I wasn’t about to let someone die. And a mother at that.” You rebuttled, and he shrugged.

“And thats why you always get in trouble.”

You glared at him, but Bakugo just thought you looked like a kitten trying to growl. He reached out and pinched your cheek.

You were about to swat his hand away, when Shoto walked in the house, walking briskly into the living room.

He walked in, ignoring Bakugo’s growl, and made his way to you.

“Can we talk ?”

At the vague question, you nodded your head.

Bakugo growled to himself even more when he saw the two of you walk inside the bedroom, glaring at the door like it offended his ancestors, then snatching a strawberry and eating it with elongated canines.

.........

“(Y/n), you understand, right ?” Shoto asked worriedly.

You swallowed, then nodded sadly.

“Besides, I can’t be the father the pup deserves, the only father figure I have is potentially a danger to the both of you.”

At that, you nodded more firmly. You were still heart broken, the Alpha you got used to having everyday, the one you were slowly falling for, is leaving. But somehow, you had a feeling you’d be alright. It would be alright.

He had his reasons anyway, you couldn’t think of endangering your pup, and Shoto doesn’t think he is ready to be a father. He said he still loves you, probably always will, but he had a feeling this is for the best.

Shoto kissed you one last time, the sound resounding throughout the room as be deepened it. You could feel many emotions, but the thing you could feel most is the goodbye through the kiss. Maybe that’s why is was so passionate.

You broke it off when the sound of shattering plates echoed.

Shoto rolled his eyes, and gave you a peck and a hug, before walking to the door and stopping.

“(Y/n), do write me letters when you hear good news.” He said, giving you one last heartfelt smile, before turning the doorknob and walking out.

You laid on the bed, with a soured scent as you sighed.

You caressed your belly. Your bundle of joy would surely erase most the pain.

The door opened, and in your peripheral vision, you saw a tuft of blond hair and a scrunched up nose.

“What’s sup, dumbass ?”

Should you tell him ?

He sat down next to you, then took your hand and started purring to calm your nerves. Somehow, it worked.

You turned to him and smiled, reveling in his surprised face, which then erupted in a blush. You allowed yourself a moment of reprieve, and caressed the blush on his cheeks as you used to. The gesture brought butterflies to both parties.

“Well, I was dumped.”

Bakugo growled, ready to stand up and chase after the half n half bastard for several reasons, but he will begin with this.

But you held his arm, preventing him from moving.

“But it’s understandable.” You reasoned.

“But-“

“Katsuki.” You used that final tone that always let him know you were gravely serious.

Before he can attempt to be belligerent again, you halted him with a question.

“Katsuki, do you even want to be a father ? With me no less ?”

The question made a spark of anger go through him. If not you, then who else ?

He glared at you.

“Damn straight dumbass, if not you, then who else ? Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

This made you laugh, surprising him. The hostility in his expression broke, making him huff and call you a weirdo.

“I can feel the connection between me and them, maybe it’s because a dragon can sense another, or maybe it’s the connection to my pup, but I know for a fact, I love our pup and I couldn’t wish for a better mother.”

The use of collective pronouns made you feel warm inside, like a journey you were set to take with the most joy filled of companions.

And in a few days time, you held Katsuki’s hand as your pup made it’s way to the world.

Katsuki walked in, his eyes drinking the sight of the pup in your arms with awe, it’s like he was falling all over again.

He walked in and sat beside you as you cooed at the little bundle of joy, a tony baby girl, with flaming red eyes that glistened like the finest rubies, and little tufts of (h/c) hair, the hair he always adored and wanted for his kids. You looked at him with a bright smile, one he wouldn’t trade for the world, and beckoned him closer.

Bakugo held the baby girl in his arms, unable to keep the bubble of affection that sprouted in his heart, and gushed out of his eyes as his love overfilled. He gave her a peck on the forehead, then another just to memorise the soft texture of her skin before she grows up before his eyes.

He then walked to the empty space on the bed, then climbed up and put the pup next to you, careful about moving you lest he elicit pain from the procedure you just underwent.

He went to climb out, but paused when his pup held his finger in her hand, toying with it as she swung it left and right in her tiny arms. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as he gazed at her tiny face curiously toying with his finger.

“Aw, she’s so perfect, isn’t she Katsuki ?” You gushed, purring at you baby girl as you caressed her head. Her eyes traveled up to your own hand, then her other hand went and grasped your own finger. She did the same to you as she did Katsuki, then with both of her occupied hands, she brought them together, making your finger touch Katsuki’s own larger one.

You gazed at her mindless actions with awe, both of you unable to take your fingers out of her toying hands and risk losing the contact. Her actions held so much meaning, like she was trying to communicate something despite you knowing it’s not true. Katsuki had a similar thought process. He decided to stop being a pussy and act like the Alpha he is.

“Well, if that’s what the pup wants, I guess you have no choice now.” He said. You looked back at the girl with love, then to Katsuki, and shrugged.

“Guess I have no choice, you’re lucky our baby girl decided to be your wing man.”

Giving Katsuki a chance to prove himself again seemed like the right choice.

Katsuki came closer to you, making you close your eyes as your lips joined in a familiar dance.

The little pup watched her parents curiously, her doe eyes staring at them in obliviousness as she resumed toying with their fingers.

............

And thats it, the end. I decided to publish this on here on a whim, so here we are, tho im gonna get to working on a masterlist in a bit. If you enjoyed this mini series and wish to buy me a coffee, my kofi is T_Spice.

#bnha fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki fanfics #bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #alpha!bakugo #omega!reader #omegaverse #fantasy!bnha #bnha fanfics

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megabees · 4 years ago

Text

no need for proclamation | a beauyasha fic

a what-if look at what would have happened if Beau and Yasha began dating during the harp scene in episode 98

alternate title: 5 times the Mighty Nein didn't know Beau and Yasha were dating, and one time it was literally spelled out for them

find it on ao3 or read below

They have a conversation, out there on the beach.

Yasha with her harp, and Beau, muscles unfurled, feeling at peace for the first time in a while.

The ocean brings clarity for them. They who were not raised by the sea find their anxieties pulled out and caught in a riptide, their bodies returned to them smoothed and polished like a piece of glass swept out into the waves. In the dry plains of Kamordah, Beau had never seen the ocean. Its vast blue stares back at her, forcing her to appreciate how big it is, how she is miniscule in comparison. Beau: big and brash, loud and bold, a born leader, finds herself taking peace in the vastness. In the grand scheme of things, the ocean remains the same. She means nothing to the waves. There is peace in this. If nothing matters, she can do what she wants.

Similarly, Yasha grows up in the Moorlands, surrounded by hills and grasses, but the rocks don’t best the constance of the waves, crashing and settling on the shore. For her, someone who struggles so much with desire, with understanding that her mind is her own, the waves show an unstoppable force. A small child can try to stop the waves from their end, but they always come to the shore anyway. Her path may deviate, like the waves occasionally fade, but she comes back to the same place. Her harp, calming. The waves, swelling and settling. Her mind is her own, she takes fate by the hand.

In front of the ocean, two women come to similar conclusions, and they have a conversation.

They leave the beach holding hands, a new relationship formed.

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

The Nein catch on far slower than they realistically should. Yasha and Beau aren’t hiding it, per say. They’re just not making a grand announcement.

That’s how the Nein does things. You keep a secret until someone weasels it out of you, and then it’s known. There’s no need for a proclamation.

Or so Beau and Yasha thought. After the past three weeks, full of longing glances and not hiding the way they act around each other, they’re beginning to doubt the obviousness of their actions.

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

They tried to hint to Jester, that day on the boat making statues for the Traveler, through subtle flirting and glances, but she never noticed.

“You have really good legs, Yasha”, Jester remarked.

Beau catches Yasha’s eye as she says it, gives her a little up and down look. Calculating, as if she wants to know each and every inch of Yasha’s legs.

Heat flashes up Yasha’s face.

“Yeah, the slit was very, uh, high. Helped with moving around.”

Another knowing glance from Beau to Yasha. When Beau thinks of that night, she thinks of two things. Firstly, the Ruby’s singing and the hypnotic way the fish moved around her. Secondly, she thinks of the way Yasha looked in that dress, shades of grey, black and white illuminating her eyes and her lips.

As the conversation gets more intense, Beau can’t help her hand from drifting behind Yasha, using it partly to steady herself on the slow rocking of the boat and partly to just get closer.

Yasha makes a similar move, placing her hand on Beau’s lower thigh, as she once again apologizes for running Beau through with Skingorger.

“It just adds to my aesthetic. Makes me look more interesting.” Beau is so focused on the hand, slowly and comfortingly rubbing her thigh that she almost misses Yasha’s flustered compliment towards.

“You’re already very interesting….You’re both very interesting.”

It’s Beau’s turn to flush. Don’t think she hasn’t noticed Yasha’s propensity to hide a compliment to her within a compliment to everyone. It’s cute.

It’s fun to be in those stages of a relationship, learning those new things about each other.

Jester’s probably too busy thinking of Travelercon, they can keep it lowkey for a little longer.

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

It turns out though, that neither of them is *great* at keeping things low key.

If you ask Beau, it’s Yasha’s fault. Yasha’s too beautiful and talented, and she keeps showing it off. That harp haunts a few of Beau’s dreams.

(Harps require some deft finger skills, if you catch the drift.)

Yasha gets up to perform for the village of Vo, and she’s surrounded by all these people. Beau watches the way her hands shake, how she searches the crowd for a familiar face, and yells out “Freebird!” so that Yasha can find her.

For Yasha, Beau’s a grounding face in the crowd of people. Someone who doesn’t care how she does, who just is there to support her. All of the Nein is, but this song is for Beau.

Caleb lights Yasha up with silent bolts of lightning, mesmerizing the entire village of Vo, illuminating Yasha with her own personal spotlight.

It’s funny, you know. Prior to meeting Yasha, Beau had always hated storms. In the winery, grapes that got too much rain produced thin and watery wine, and when there was a thunderstorm, the workers couldn’t harvest the grapes. It meant her dad was always angry when there was a storm. Loss of profit, and all that.

Once she met Yasha though, a storm signified Yasha for her. Thunder became part of the comforting rumble of sleeping with the Nein, and lightning illuminated how different her life looked from five years ago.

Even when Yasha was gone, Beau hoped every night to hear a storm. Maybe it meant Yasha was returning to them.

So it’s not her fault she’s put in a stupor by Yasha’s performance. That’s her girl.

It unlocks a deluge of feelings in her chest. Beau’s shell-shocked, as the Nein discusses the performance absent of Yasha.

She can’t help but allow herself to chime in.

“That was amazing.”

She makes sure to tell Yasha how amazing it is later that night, in hushed tones wrapped up together.

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

After that, they begin to find their stride in how they act around their friends.

In battle, Yasha has a free pass to be as protective as she wants. Beau’s more fragile than she, and is somehow easily swallowed? Yasha’s confused on how the beasts they keep fighting manage to find Beau in their mouths more than anyone else.

Either way, Beau usually ends up taking more damage than anyone else notices.

Nothing against Jester or Cad as healers, but they tend to focus on the group’s overall health levels, and Beau likes to play off her injuries.

Vulnerability isn’t easy for Beau, so Yasha keeps a watchful eye.

She’s already lost one partner, she doesn’t need to lose another.

They’re traipsing through the forest, and Yasha looks away for one moment, and suddenly Beau is on the ground unconscious.

Nosy Expositor can’t keep her hands to herself, Yasha supposes.

She gets Beau back up, taking lightning damage and healing her.

For Yasha, her healing hands are a way of showing Beau her affection. They symbolize forgiveness, and they symbolize hope. It’s just a way of showing how she cares. Yasha’s not great with words, she speaks through her actions, and she hopes Beau understands.

That being said, as if she’s gonna let her girlfriend get healed by just Fjord.

“It’s not a competition, okay!”

“It’s a competition.”

Fjord’s got nothing on her. She’s there for Beau.

This is re-enforced, of course, when Beau asks Yasha to carry her following the fight. There was a time, when Yasha was just regaining her mind, where Beau asked Caleb to carry her following the fight with Obann instead of Yasha, and while Yasha would never admit it to Beau, it hurt a little.

Carrying Beau is Yasha’s thing. They’ve had this joke running through the time they’ve spent together, and Yasha isn’t a fan of other people trying to butt in on that.

Perhaps she’s a bit protective, a bit jealous of Beau. How is she to not be, though, when she was gone for so long and Beau got so much closer with everyone else. For Yasha, post-Obann was a new fear. The Nein had pursued her for so long, but they also made new friends, and what if the Nein had liked them more than they liked Yasha? It’s hard to feel like part of a group when you’re never there. Plus, she was helping someone raise a terrible god, and killing Beau’s co-workers, and while none of it was in her control, she did it.

The fact that the Nein forgave her? That Beau forgave her and still wants to be with her?

Yasha’s still not sure how she got so lucky.

This thought is reinforced with Beau in her arms as they walk through the forest to face a false god. Yasha loves to be able to help. Jester and Cad might be the healers, but Yasha loves the feeling of Beau’s small, lithe body in her arms.

She just wants to hold Beau forever, shelter her from any oncoming attacks.

It’s with this thought that she misses Beau giving Jester a thumbs up as they venture further into the forest.

Who needs subtlety?

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

When Yasha catches Beau in the air with her new wings, part of her is sure it’s gonna tip off the rest of the group.

It’s so romantic. It was probably a beautiful visual.

Unfortunately, it seems like the rest of the Nein is either being incredibly dense or incredibly respectful, and Yasha’s too held up in her brand new wings to decide which they are.

She flies up and over the mountain with Beau swooning in her arms, and it’s perfect. The sun casts a beautiful golden haze over the island, and Beau’s skin shines in the sunlight.

Yasha might have the wings, but Beau is her angel.

Then the wings disappear and they plummet into a shallow pond.

Yasha’s not thrilled the wings last for such little time, but at least she gets to see Beau soaking wet from the pond, giggly and delighted at the flight.

In that moment, Yasha is overwhelmed with love. It’s too early to say, but she’s been in love before. She knows what that rush feels like, that off balance feeling of “oh shit I’m in deep”.

A small secret, then. Something to unpack on her own time. There’s no need to speed it up, to burden Beau with this until she’s ready.

This love, it can be just hers to have for a bit. She’s allowed to want that.

Beau brings her back to herself, pulling her out of the pond and her own thoughts in one fell swoop.

Holding hands and giggling, they make their way to the edge of the cliffside, overlooking the mountain awash in sunlight. Looking out, Yasha is overcome and she leans over to give Beau a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m happy to have you here with me.”

“Oh? That true, sap?”

Yasha laughs, nodding her head and breaking eye contact, and leads Beau to the edge to point the way down back to their friends.

“We should probably head back, they’re gonna think we’re dead.”

They take a little extra time on the way down though since the Nein hasn’t noticed their other hints. It’s put to good use.

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

The day they visit Molly’s grave is when they give up any attempt to be subtle at all. Throughout Rumblecusp and the days after, their relationship has switched from being a complete secret to being something that they could easily explain if asked, but no one has outright asked them if they’re dating, so it just hasn’t happened.

Either the Mighty Nein is very dense or very respectful. Yasha’s sensing it might be half and half, because Caduceus had a very meaningful conversation with her about wanting things and patience, but Jester and Veth keep giving Beau looks when they think she should make a move.

Yasha and Beau talk about it at night. It’s funny to them that everyone keeps dancing around the topic. Neither of them is sure about where they got the idea that they can’t just ask, but it’s fun to just have this to themselves.

Until they go to visit Molly’s...no..Lucien’s? grave.

Yasha has a lot of feelings around Molly and his grave, and she’s not exactly thrilled by Caleb’s suggestion that they dig him up to get some answers to questions they don’t even know yet. Feels almost rude, to take a friend out of the ground to inquire about his personal life.

She mentions it to Beau, in a hushed whisper, and Beau attempts to stop Caleb’s focused energy by hinting heavily at it, but his focus is so intense that he brushes her, and Jester, who picks up on both Beau and Yasha’s discomfort, off.

He gets like that sometimes.

They teleport there, and Yasha is struck by how normal it looks. His coat is still there, though it’s blown off the stake they put in to mark his grave, and for a moment, she lets herself hope that he’s still there.

Beau’s hand finds its way into hers as they watch Veth and Cad dig up the grave, a thread of reality keeping Yasha tethered there, eyes locked onto the now empty grave.

She removes her hand from Beau’s, and instead moves it to the small of Beau’s back, pulling Beau closer to her for comfort. Beau’s body is tiny, but it’s something to grasp as they both figure out what this means for their future.

At one of the lowest moments since she regained her mind, Beau is there with her.

She squeezes Beau’s hand once. Beau squeezes back. They’re ready to tell everyone now.

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

They tell everyone in Caleb’s fancy tower, after Yasha decides to throw caution to the wind and make a joke about Beau’s fancy sex mirror above her bed.

Jester and Veth are overjoyed, Fjord and Caleb both want to make sure they’re taking care of each other and won’t mess up the group, and Caduceus just nods happily, though they’re sure he knew all along.

As they sit around the fire, Yasha and Beau link pinkies and bask in the laughter and joy of their family.

Things will be okay.

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin

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geethedentist · 5 years ago

Text

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up with Chapter 9 here and read this chapter on Ao3!

Chapter 10: Honorary Scot, Official Jacobite

“Claire?”

My first instinct was to blurt, “Shit!” and jolt three feet into the air. So concerned with poking all my bumps and trying to stop the blood from leaking down my face, I had allowed someone to sneak up on me. I still hadn’t turned around. Maybe I had finally gone insane and imagined the voice, God I hoped so.

“Claire it’s almost dawn, what the hell are ye doin’?”

“I … How long have you been standing there?” I had finally turned to face him.

Angus crossed his arms. His boot began tapping on the ground. “Long enough to ken you’ve just done something incredibly sneaky … and I’d wager this isna the first time.” He would have taken on the air of a disappointed parent, had it not been for the confusion and blatant curiosity also present in his expression.

And just like any manipulative schemer would do, I turned it around on him. “What were you doing out before dawn? You all love to accuse me of being shifty, so let’s hear it!”

“Claire, ye ARE being shifty!” He almost shouted at me. “And for yer information I was visiting with Margaret, since we’re leavin’ soon.” His cheeks turned light pink.

Oh yes, his big breasted friend. How horribly anticlimactic and boring. I supposed telling him I went for a walk was not even worth the breath.

“And Christ, what happened to yer face?” Now he mentions my face.

“I um … fell?”

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “I ken I’m not terribly bright Claire, but ye insult me so. If I ken but one thing about ye, it’s that ye did not maul up yer face because ye fell.”

His eyes fell to the skin just below my elbow and they popped wide open as he quickly grabbed it and shoved my own hand into my face.

“Is that a bite mark?!”

Oh dear. Any chance of lying my way out of this was quickly dissipating, not that I had had a good shot in the first place. They were in fact, teeth marks. Small indentations lined the top and the underside of my arm; they were an angry red color, and quickly becoming tinged with purple. I inspected them more closely. It seemed that my opponent had extremely crooked teeth.

“Um yes, but …”

“Are ye drunk?” He cut me off.

I crossed my arms in defiance. “Well not to brag but I don’t need alcohol to do things that I’ll regret.”

He looked at me long and hard, his hand scratching at something underneath his beard. I had been edging my way towards the door, although I knew I would have to demand his silence somehow.

“Oh no Claire, if ye dinna tell me what ye’ve been doing, I’m going to make sure everyone in this whole tavern knows ye’ve been running late night errands.”

“All right all right!” I said quickly to shut him up. “But nobody knows and it better stay that way.”

“Can I be there when ye tell Dougal and Jamie that ye fell?” He smirked.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance and I jerked him into the stables. Brushing stray hairs out my face, I winced as some of them caught in the mass of curdled blood on my head.

“I’m going to tell them I fell, and you are going to back me up. Got it?” I hissed in his ear. “Now if you insist on knowing where I went, I had been fighting in the ring for the past week or so. Gavin has been paying me.”

Angus’s eyes popped open again. “That’s why ye’ve been keeping us away from there!” It was then he heard the jingling in my pocket. “Jesus how much has he been payin’ ye?”

“Enough.”

“Ye’re going to run. Aren’t ye?” An unnecessary question really. They’ve all known this from the second they met me.

“That’s … I … Dougal has all of it. For the Jacobites.”

He softened a bit. “But why?”

And the words came gushing out of me. “Because I want my damn ring back and I want to get as far away from Dougal as I can. All of the mistrust and all the shite I get for being English is quite honestly draining me. I want to go home.”

Home.

I shouldn’t have used that word.

You are an outlander no matter where on this earth you think you can run to.

I sat down heavily. “But that’s the thing. I’ve spent years as a ghost and I don’t even know where home is anymore, I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I thought I did. But the fighting, it was like medicine to me, it makes me feel passionate, it makes me forget. After we leave this town, nothing is going to change. I feel trapped. Directionless.”

It was true. It was as if somebody plucked me from Uncle Lamb’s side and plopped me into the middle of a vast ocean. I could stay afloat but for what? Everywhere I turned there was a huge expanse of nothing.

Angus sat down next to me. “Can I tell ye something? For what it’s worth, I trust ye, and ye look right at home, covered in blood and stinking like a man.”

I gave him an honest smile, “Thank you.”

“But what about …” Angus closed his mouth and scooted away. Clearly what he about to say might result in my elbow colliding with his ribs.

“What about what? Jamie?” I answered harshly. “What about him?”

I don’t know why his question made me bristle as much as it did, and what I said next did not improve matters in the slightest.

“Please don’t tell him about this.”

He caught the note of extreme seriousness in my voice. “Aye.” Was all he whispered in return. I traced the path his eyes took, out the wide stable door and up to the candle in Jamie’s window.

Inside, he helped me clean the wound as quietly as possible, and we trudged up to bed. Stripping off my sweaty garments, I groaned as I tugged loose the strip of fabric I used to bind my breasts. I had tried a corset once, but declined to ever do so again in favor of proper breathing and being able to bend at the waist.

Knowing that I wouldn’t sleep, I still tried in vain. I supposed I felt better, but only in the sense what I was able to get everything off my chest and hear my feelings out loud. Angus was a good listener, but the conversation should have been had with Jamie, and there was no telling how that would have gone and who would have walked away hurt. Although it probably would have been both of us.

My body so desperately wanted to be unconscious but my mind wouldn’t let it. About two hours had passed and the first light of day gently lit the room. There was a soft knock on the door, and I heard Dougal’s voice from the other side.

“Get up, lass.”

Of course he’d be wanting the money. I hurriedly tugged on some pants and a shirt and grimaced at the blood stains on the pillow. Evidently I had been oozing. Opening the door halfway in an attempt to cover my face, I thrust the pouch into his hand. “I know it’s not as much as last time, I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that lass. Get yerself together. Yer comin’ on a little trip wi’ me today.” Then he briskly walked away toward the stairs. Clearly the matter was not up for discussion.

This is it. I thought as I retied the knot on top of my head. He’s gotten all the money he can out of me and now he’s going to take me somewhere and kill me. I quietly slid the small knife Jamie had left in my room the other day into my boot.

Not if I kill you first.

Up close and personal, no arrows. He’d never see it coming. I imagined how it would go down. He’d lunge at me, I’d grab his throat and press the knife into the very spot I knew would bring death. A slow death, but death nonetheless. I wanted him to watch me reclaim my ring and finally be free of him.

“So kind of ye to finally make it.” Dougal said when I reached the stables. He’d already saddled a horse for me. “Daydreamin’ up there?”

“Actually yes.”

He didn’t question me further as we set out. After riding in silence for about an hour I had worked myself up to the point where my hands were quite clammy and I was overly aware of the sgian dhu waiting in my boot. The tiny knife couldn’t have been more than one pound but it felt like ten.

The hilly moor began to give way to forest. My horse followed Dougal’s of its own accord, allowing me to slouch back in the saddle and stare off into space. The trees that blurred by were becoming denser, and something caught my eye. Someone had set up camp on a distant hill. Strange, the hill seemed to rise up relative to everything around it, why expose yourself like that?

Squinting and craning my neck back to the mysterious hilltop, it was enough for me to break the silence that had stretched for the entire ride. “What on earth is that?” I said it more to myself, but Dougal answered anyway.

“Ancient faerie stones called Craigh na Dun.” He sounded almost wary. “Used by our ancestors for rituals, and said to be a gateway between worlds.”

My mouth twisted. That concealed more than it illuminated. These Scots and their superstitions. I thought back to those wretched tea leaves and supposed anything was worth believing.

The gentle thump of hooves striking grass gave way to the sound of crunching leaves. Dougal’s head was turning this way and that. We were close to our destination. My muscles tensed further in anticipation. The small spring looked peaceful enough, but Dougal had succeeded in choosing a secluded place. Then the smell hit me, and my face involuntarily contracted. Rotten eggs.

Dougal caught it and laughed; I was not about to turn my back to him. “I ken it doesn’t smell like roses, but there’s a reason I took ye here.”

There must have been a reason. Why ride over an hour for a drink from a spring that smelled like hell? I stiffened. To conceal the smell of a corpse?

He stared at me for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “There seems to be a bit of blood comin’ out of that head wound ye still haven’t told me about.”

I started and then gently touched my fingertips to the wound in question. They came away bloody. “So there is.” I smiled sweetly. “Please excuse me a moment.”

Kneeling by the edge of the spring, I made sure to keep him in my peripheral vision. The water was cool and it had an odd slippery quality. Throat parched with nerves, I took a big swallow before proceeding to wash the cut. Bracing myself for a taste to match the smell, it never came. The water was crisp and pure. Face dripping, I turned to find Dougal staring at me with an odd expression.

I shortly exhaled through pursed lips, causing the water to spray outward. “What?”

“I’m going to ask ye once more.” He said, tone turned quite serious. “Are ye a spy for the English?”

I stood up and crossed my arms impatiently. “For the final time,” I seethed, “I am not a fucking spy! Are you going to tell me why you’ve taken me here?”

His eyes narrowed as he sneered back at me. “Are ye going to tell me what’s happened to yer face? Or do I have to attend one o’ yer fights to get a better idea?”

I would have liked to maintain a cool, collected expression at this remark. I also should not have been surprised at Dougal’s knowledge of my clandestine activities in the slightest. My eyes had widened nonetheless and he laughed humorlessly.

“Angus …?” I said weakly, although I already knew it wasn’t him.

“Angus didna tell me ye wee dolt. Gavin did when I collected the rent from his family’s farm.”

“Ah.” I breathed, weaker still. It seemed I had failed to discuss the secrecy of my appearances with my sponsor. So Dougal knew my plan. He’d taken me here in order to kill or threaten me, thus preventing my escape and subsequent report back to my imaginary English superiors.

He had turned his back to me before he resumed speaking. “Ye’re verra messy, Claire.”

His back thus turned, I saw my chance. Of course the leaves underfoot would make sneaking up close difficult. A charge then, and a quick jab in the kidney. My heart instantly began pounding.

He was shaking his head and laughing, genuinely this time. “Verra messy, not to mention clumsy. Ye’d make a terrible spy, and I’m sorry its taken me till now to believe ye.”

My hand froze on its way toward the knife. “Wait what?”

He tilted his head and regarded me with considerably less menace than he had in all the time I’d known him. “Well ye drank from the Liar’s Spring aye? And yer still standin’ here.”

I gawked at him. If it had been this easy I would have dragged him here a long time ago. Evidently this place was called St. Ninian’s Spring. Anyone who drank from it and then told a lie would meet a fiery end quite swiftly, what with the reek of hell so close by.

“Dinna look so relieved yet, I’ve a few more questions.”

I sat down heavily and looked at him with raised eyebrows and expectant annoyance. As long as I didn’t burst into flames, he’d be satisfied. And if I did? Well, he would probably still be satisfied.

“So ye really are a fugitive of the Crown?”

“Yes. It wasn’t just some cover up. Neither was the money I gave you.”

He nodded solemnly. “I must admit ye had me a bit confused when ye began yer … donations. Give me money and with it, a false sense of security and trust? Yer right clumsy Claire, but I wouldna put that past ye.”

Indeed. For that had been my plan the entire time. Or had it?

“So now you see why I kept the fights from you. To be caught sneaking off in the middle of the night?” I laughed ruefully. “You’d never believe me.”

He nodded again but there was a long pause before he spoke, very softly.

“Can I ask why?”

My teeth momentarily clenched together. Hard.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” The words sounded strained and dry, barely above a whisper.

The air shifted; a chilling breeze blew tiny ripples across the stinking pool. Dougal had turned, and was staring at the wall of boulders on the side of the clearing. But he was seeing something else.

“You’ve seen his back.”

I inhaled sharply, and that was all the encouragement he needed to continue.

“I was there, ken.”

Whether I offered a response or not didn’t matter, for he meant to tell the tale either way. I found that my hands had clenched themselves tightly together. I did not want to hear this. I couldn’t. It felt like a betrayal of Jamie’s trust from when he first showed me the scars. But I had to.

So I listened to how Jamie and his still raw wounds were paraded out of his cell at Fort William. I imagined Jack Randall’s eyes lighting up upon seeing him. I imagined the cords of Jamie’s neck taut with pain as he attempted to remove his shirt, which Dougal had described as barely more than a rag and almost completely crusted with the red-brown of dried blood. Jamie had carefully folded it as if it were made of silk, his last shred of dignity. And he meant to keep it. Hearing this part of the story almost wasn’t as bad as the flogging itself. He had hung unconscious by the wrists for the latter half or so, unaware of Randall’s deranged face behind him, splattered with Jamie’s blood.

When his account had ended, my shoulders slumped and a shaky breath rattled out of my mouth.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I ken ye care about Jamie and I ken ye care about Scotland.”

Perhaps I needed Dougal to say it before I truly realized it. Murtagh had tried to tell me as well. The truth was that I felt more Scottish than English, and I really didn’t want to leave my Highlanders. They looked out for me. I could be whoever I wanted around them, and it didn’t matter if who I wanted to be was a hunter and fighter . . . a protector. I wanted to be myself.

“Well ye’re already a fugitive aye? Might as well be full blown traitor while you’re at it.”

An unexpected laugh rose to the surface. “Do you know what? That doesn’t sound so bad.”

It was strange how nonchalantly I had made the decision to change my life. The first time had been an accident, but now I was the one drawing my own map. Scotland was flailing under England, and it had gotten worse during my short time here. I saw it everyday. Whether it was in the form of hunger, poverty, families being torn apart, or religious persecution, England was not just using Scotland for revenue. It was threatening their way of life, a rich and ancient culture that I respected and cared for very much . . . as much as I had resisted it. Then there was everything that had been done to Jamie, including double flogging and exile to France.

I supposed my deal with Colum was broken, as I had now effectively joined his brother in the exact kind of reckless acts he was looking to prevent to protect the Mackenzie clan.

“Why did ye no tell anyone the Crown was after ye?” His last loose end.

That was an easy one. “The fewer people that knew, the safer I felt. I’m sure you knew I had planned to leave your company as soon as possible, and I wasn’t looking to leave a trail leading right to me.”

He made a Scottish noise in his throat which I took to indicate understanding. The breeze had returned as we sat in silence for a while. Dougal purposefully rose to his feet, smoothed his kilt, and extended a hand to me.

“Welcome to the fight then, Claire.”

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #outlander fandom #Jamie Fraser #jamie and claire #jamie x claire #claire beauchamp #the sassenach warrior

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