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loganwritesprobably · 3 months

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First Meeting With.. P3 (One Piece Edition)

Part one with Ace, Law and Sanji Part two with Zoro, Robin and Luffy Part four with Benn, Shanks and Smoker

Requests are open for x reader things! I will write basically ANY kind of reader - male, female, non-binary, gender neutral, trans, disabled, black, white, latino, asian, neurodivergent, etc

Here is another three lovely characters for you to meet: Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy! All readers are gender neutral, so everyone is welcome to enjoy. No Y/N is used!

Buggy's section is a little short, but honestly I think it's just fine as it is, it made me laugh at least

CW: In Mihawk's section, the reader experiences a massive loss, and expresses some passive desire for death, take care with that

The casino was a little overwhelming when you first walked in, between the bright and sometimes flashing lights, and the various noises coming from patrons and machines alike, but you seemed to thrive here. You'd always liked card games, so that was what you gravitated toward when you'd first arrived. This, however, was far from your first time here, and you'd found a way to play the system. You'd play a few games, and lose intentionally with small bets, then you'd slip away to play another game and lose just once with another small bet, before retreating to the bar for something to drink and maybe something to eat depending on the time of day. You'd chat with other frequent patrons, and some of the staff. Finally, to end your night, you'd pick out whichever game you were most inclined to that night and place a large bet, and win. Your secret? You could count cards.

You didn't come too often, it was a delicate balance that you were striking to not be caught in your actions, but when you did come you always won big. The house couldn't always win, after all. Your wins were spread far enough apart, with enough losses in between, that you hadn't been flagged yet. It was a win, for you at least.

Tonight, you'd already done all your losses, and you were sitting at the bar. The woman behind the bar, Alisa, was lovely and you had gotten to know her in a fairly casual way, at the sort of level that you usually knew a co-worker. You knew very little about her, but you got along enough to happily chat whenever you were both at the bar. As you were happily chatting, you watched Alisa's face change, eyes widening and smile falling. That couldn't be anything good, but you didn't look up, you didn't want them to realise you knew someone was approaching.

A very large man sat on the stool beside you, dressed in fine fabrics and more fur than anyone had any right to be wearing in the desert. He was handsome. "Sir Crocodile, what can I get for you?" Alisa asked, and that told you just who you were dealing with - the damn owner, and one of the seven warlords of the sea. You took a deep, steadying breath, and sipped your drink casually. Crocodile ordered himself a drink, and you didn't look at him. There was a long, silent minute, where even the sound of the slot machines faded into the background and there was only you and Crocodile. Alisa returned with his drink, and he took a first sip, before he turned to you. "You're good, I'll give you that." He said, and you glanced at him as if seeing him for the first time. "What can I say? I make sure I dress nice for the casino." You replied, hoping to ease some of the tension. "You know what I'm talking about, though I'll admit, you do clean up well." You'd take a compliment where you could get it. "So I'm busted?" "You had a good run, but you can either leave and never come back.. or I'm willing to offer you a deal."

You were a powerhouse pirate in your own right. Your crew wasn't quite at your level, but every day they worked harder to match you in strength and ability - and they were getting there. Hell, you were sure they'd start to surpass you soon, and then maybe you'd have to start trying. You didn't mind. It felt good to see a group of people you'd been nurturing grow into something more. Your bounty was no Straw Hat level, but it was nothing to sneeze at in your humble opinion. A couple million berri - what you wouldn't give to have that much berri at your disposal.

You'd crossed paths with Mihawk only once, very early in your career, and you'd had the sense to stay out of his damn way. It was a good thing you did, he killed a man not ten minutes later, not that you stuck around long enough to find out why. You chased your crew from bars and away from market stalls, back onto your boat, and took off sailing again. He hadn't seen you, you were sure, and that was a good thing, but you'd seen him.

Never had you anticipated getting into a situation where you were crossing paths with him again - certainly not voluntarily.

Karai Bari was a damn hot island, not quite something you were used to, and well swimming several miles didn't help with how hot and out of breath you were. A dozen men approached you with swords and guns, and you could only hold up your arms in surrender. "I'm not.. here to fight!" You panted out, desperately searching the crowd for a sympathetic face. You found the least sympathetic amongst them in Dracule Mihawk. "My ship was shot down by marines sailing away from here, my crew.. I don't know where they are or if they survived. Please, I just want to live." You asked, hands beginning to tremble as reality set in. They were good people, and now you had no idea what had become of them. You'd demanded some of the younger members take to paddle boats to get to safety, but you didn't know if they'd made it. There'd been devil fruit users amongst them, and they were certainly dead by now. The knowledge of it weighed heavy on your shoulders - you were meant to protect them. You collapsed down to your knees in tears, sobs wracking your chest. You were meant to keep them safe. "I take it back," you whispered, voice thick with tears, "I can't do it without them. Do what you want to me."

It was the last hand you'd expected that came to rest on your shoulder and gently squeeze. "Get up." Came the voice of the world's greatest swordsman. "A Captain's grief should not be witnessed here. I'll take you somewhere private, where you can grieve properly, and I'll organise a rescue mission for any survivors."

He was a little odd looking, and that was putting it nicely. He was some sort of clown, judging from his large red nose, and he was.. well, all head. He was a head, directly attached to feet, and you couldn't quite understand how his hands were also attached to him. It was unnatural, and more than a little unsettling. He was yelling at you, bouncing up and down, and all you could do is stare. "It's flashily rude to stare ya know!" The guy yelled, which finally forced you to blink yourself back into full awareness. "What the fuck?" You managed, finally crouching down to look at him properly. "I'm Buggy! Genius Jester! Star Clown!" He yelled, and you shoved a finger in your ear to rub it. "You're also fucking loud." You muttered, running a hand over your face. "Hey! I'm looking for.. well.. the rest of me." You told you, realising that maybe yelling at you wasn't the best way to get your help. "For what?" You asked dumbly, blinking at him owlishly. The rest of himself? Was he some sort of hippie, what did that even mean? "I'm a chop chop man! My body comes apart." He explained, splitting his hand from the rest of his body as your face contorted in disgust. "I'm going to be sick." "You get used to it. Now stop being useless, and help me out! My leg is around here somewhere, I can feel it."

#fanfic #one piece #writing #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #buggy the clown #reader insert #crocodile x reader #crocodile/reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk/reader #mihawk/reader #buggy x reader #buggy/reader #gender neutral reader

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 2 months

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Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

#there’s just something so haunting to me about the idea of Izuku being considered just a really enthusiastic ally to the Quirkless community #like Izuku canonically did not have friends #he almost definitely was an /incredibly/ avid member of Internet forums #he probably found comfort amongst other Quirkless people for the first time ever online #and then he grew up #got all mights quirk #became a central figure in the Quirklessness debate #and suddenly found himself popping up on those forums that used to be his only solace as a child #that one hero with all the Quirks who supports the Quirkless #I see Izuku as being a semi controversial figure amongst Quirkless #because he obviously supports them #but he’s got quirks to an unprecedented power level and is also used by others against the quirkless community as an example of how far #behind they are in evolution #I feel like he eventually stopped going on those old forums that were his greatest comfort as a child #like I feel like he would feel weird lurking on the forums while they talked about him to him without their knowledge #he would have left to give them privacy away from him #he couldn’t honestly commiserate with them anymore because he was suddenly Quirked anyway #and what must that feel like #that realization that you can never go home again #pez dispenser debris #bnha #update IS incoming im actively working on this fic again #we are so so close people #to this and sgg and nhthcth #god it’s been so close for so long #also if you sent me an ask and I never answered it please know I saw it and loved it and started to answer it #which is why I currently have over 150 asks in a state of partial completeness #we’ll get there one day

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alienqueeenrando · 2 years

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Class Trip Gone...Right?

I do not own Miraculous or Marvel. All rights go to the owners.

Lila salt, bustier salt, Lila exposed, kinda class sugar, avengers

No one POV

Lila’s lies have officially infiltrated the class. Marinette had been kicked out of her position as a class rep and replaced by Lila. The only ones who stuck by Mari were; Alya, Nino, Juleka, Rose, and Adrien. Kagami and Luka were also on Mari's side but were out of the country for the summer(Kagami at japan for a family event and Luka was traveling with Jagged as his apprentice). The others never bullied Marinette per se but just ignored them and sometimes made comments about her and her friends.

Mari POV

I missed my friends but without my class rep duties, I had more time to design. Our summer trip was coming up and I wasn't sure what we were doing, especially since Lila spent months lying to the class about knowing the avengers. A couple of months ago, I heard about a writing competition that Stark industries were holding. The winner got an all-expense paid trip for their whole class to New York. Of course, this was all before I was fired as the class representative. “ Now as you all know, next week is our summer field trip and we will be going to New York” Miss Bustier interrupted my thoughts. Miss Bustier used to be my favorite teacher until I finally understood the difference between nice and good. “ one person in our class won a competition hosted by Tony Stark himself, we will be given an all-expense paid trip to new york as well and a tour of Stark industries and the Avengers tower”. My jaw dropped. “I won” I whispered too low for anyone to hear.

Lila POV

The Avengers huh? “I did it, I won” I stated and the sheep all praised me. “ yes I wanted us all to meet uncle Tony and the other Avengers, So i called them and got them to give us this trip,” I said in my most innocent voice . They all fell for it. I saw maribrat and her loser friends roll their eyes and the class glared at them for hurting poor, innocent; Lila. “ well thank you, Lila, I think this will be a most amazing vacation” Bustier praised. Getting Bustier as my teacher was a stroke of luck. She never stopped me from telling my tales and even punished anyone who tried to expose me. It was perfect. As long as buster and Damocles don’t do their jobs and keep my little “lying disease” a secret, I’m golden. All year since I became a class rep, all our fundraisers fell flat and we never met our goal, so this was a lucky break. I just had so many charities and fancy events to go to that the class tried to take over for me but they were terrible, Honestly I thought being class rep meant I was finally queen but it’s much harder than I thought. But no problem, next year when elections are due again, I’ll just break out the crocodile tears and convince someone else to take my place.

Bustier POV This trip will be so much fun. To be honest, since Lila became a class rep, I was afraid that her disabilities and illnesses would hinder her but the class come together to help her, well all except Marinette and her friends. Ever since Lila came into the class, Marinette has been a terrible example for the class. I am so disappointed in her. I do hope that this trip will give everyone a chance to reconcile, maybe a change of scenery will help end all this drama. While to rest of the class was talking about the trip and getting excited at the chance to meet the Avengers, I was daydreaming about being swept off my feet by Thor or Steve Rogers.

No one POV

The bell rang and everyone left for the weekend. “Remember class, we leave for new york early Monday morning,” Bustier told the class. As the students left Marinetts friends couldn’t help but worry that Lila would ruin the trip for them but decided to not let Rossi's lies disrupt their vacation. “The Avengers surely won’t let Lila get away with her lies would they, I mean they won’t be fooled right?” asked Rose worried “of course not” reassured Alya “let's just ignore her and do our best to enjoy ourselves” “definitely dudette” agreed Nino. As the students packed and planned, Lila schemed. She hoped that the Avengers would be nice enough to just let her lie but she knew better. She would be careful and lie only out of earshot and only tell tales of other celebrities. If she played her cards right she might even be able to charm her way into a job at Stark Industries.

Marinette POV

Monday came and the class was getting ready to hop on a plane to new york. Lila wasted no time spinning her stories, how she helped the Avengers and that Thor himself begged her to go to Asgard with him and he and Tony considered Lila to be family. The sheep fawned over her. I and my friends did my best to ignore her but her screeching voice gave me a headache.” So are you not mad that Lila took credit for your submission dudette?” asked Nino “not really, I just want to relax and enjoy our vacation” I replied. “ at least after next week, we can get away from the drama” juleka whispered trying to see the best of our situation. As we were boarding, Lila just had to start with the poor flight attendant. “I need a first-class seat, my tinnitus is so bad from saving Jaggeds cat that any other seat will make my ear hurt so bad” Lila whined. The flight attendant didn’t believe her and tried to explain the plane was fully booked. Lila cried her crocodile tears. In the end, we almost missed our flight and Bustier promised to file a complaint and let Lila take her seat that was closer to the front of the plane. The flight was long but after hours of Lila’s lies, we made it to New York City.

Lila’s POV

We were met with two interns for Stark industries, whose names I didn't care to remember(Ned and MJ). We were escorted to two shuttles that were to be our rides for the remainder of our trip. I tried to woo the interns by promising to talk to “uncle Tony” about giving them permanent jobs but they just smiled and ignored me. Rude, do they not know who I am? We eventually made it to the Stark tower and were told the rules of our trip.

Marinette POV

We were told that we had a few rules, we had to follow, such as; Staying in a group, listening to the interns, and don’t go anywhere without permission. We were given level 2 passes, the same as the interns, giving us access to basic areas of the facility. We walked around for a bit and were greeted by the other Avengers. Miss Bustier tried, key word tried, to flirt with Steve Rogers(who looked quite uncomfortable) instead of paying attention to her students. Ladybug luck hasn’t been much help lately with Lila but I hoped that would change soon. “Do you think anything out of lier-la’s mouth is even half true, ever,” joked Adrien, we all laughed. “So do you think Tony Stark could talk to us about our idea for energy efficiency: asked Iven. I didn’t know if Stark heard but if he did, He didn’t let it show. “ of course, I told you I'd talk to him for you” replied Lila in a surprisingly quiet tone. Lila kept on her tales for a while, completely ignoring Ned and MJ who were trying to show us around Stark tower. MJ eventually called her out and told her to pay attention. Lila cried her fake tears and Kim and Alix yelled at her to stop being rude. Bustier(ever the attentive teacher) stepped in and told Ned and MJ to be nice and that being rude is not the way to get someone to listen. Ned rolled his eyes and just kept going with the tour. Everyone in the tower tried to ignore Lila but the final nail in the coffin was when Lila said something along the lines of "Tony and the other Avengers loves me and even asked to join but had to turn them down because of my disabilities". Finally, Pepper Potts overheard and stormed right over. "enough of the lies, I don't want to get lawyers involved since you are just a child but one more word about the Avengers and I will not hesitate to sue you" Pepper demanded. I couldn't believe my ears. This is so great.

No one POV

Lila tried to cry, hoping to gain sympathy and maybe get the Avengers to play nice to spare her feelings but to no avail. They all glared at her. Kim tried to defend the liar and intimidate Pepper into taking back what she said but she refused to back down and even threatened to send him right back to Paris. He backed down right away. Bustier came and tried to calm the situation down but also shut up when faced with a complaint being filed about her "lack of control of her students" to the french school board. In the end, Lila was sent back to Paris and there was an investigation began about bustier and Damocles covering up Lila's stories. The rest of the trip was a success and the class apologized to Marinette and the others and they forgave them.

#bustier salt #lila salt #the avengers #class salt

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kisskissbanggang · 1 year

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Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 13 ✨🚀

[3.8k words, 15min. read - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - Minho x Fem. Reader, Seungmin x Fem. Reader, Chan x Fem. Reader - SFW/Smut in Other Chapters/SOME Spice - Navigating Feelings, Platonic(?) Intimacy, Surprisingly Sweet, Surprisingly Intimidating, Time to Question Some Ethics, Emotional Vulnerability is Hard, Ominous Plot Hints, Forming Alliances, Loyalty Crisis, Delicious Banter and Flirting and Tension, We Finally Left the Ocean Planet, Mentions of Drugging, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

The scent of seawater on your skin was bittersweet while you patted a towel over your damp clothes, still dripping in your cabin. To tell the truth, you were so mad that you were surprised you weren’t steaming. Your impromptu swim left you feeling a little filmy to the touch. So now you weren’t just considering venting all your garbage to Minho, but maybe taking a shower as well, just leave the salt air behind and move on.

But you were still really pissed.

Much to your chagrin, Minho was right. Jisung was such a dick. But was Minho even in a place to talk? You figured he must’ve been wondering what was going on in the time it took for him to get locked in his cabin until it was almost time to launch. As far as you were concerned, asking first was simply a courtesy. You surveyed the room, remembering that Chan had dramatically sealed the hatches to Minho’s cabin. Both the access under the port and the one in the closet would be off-limits. You could just let yourself in, but that seemed intrusive. And what about the cameras? The security cameras around the ship helped you get into hot water with Chan in the first place. If you could avoid the cameras, that’d be even better.

You checked out the closet again. The hatches may be closed, you figured, but that wall inside the closet was still shared with Minho’s cabin, and may even be the closest to it, judging by how it was recessed. You changed into some dry clothes once you were no longer soaked, and then approached the closet. When you pressed your ear to the furthest back wall, there was no hint of activity, but you also weren’t sure what you were expecting. You tapped your fingernail against the brushed metal surface and waited.

Half a minute passed, and a tap responded to your own.

“Hey,” you grinned, “you got a minute? I want to try something.”

“Try something?” Minho repeated, amused. “Sure, just let me kick out all my dinner guests.” His voice was surprisingly clear through the wall, or at least clearer than you’d expected.

You hung up your towel and remembered to put on your sneakers again, sullenly remembering that you’d be re-entering artificial gravity soon. The garage was cold and empty when you poked your head into the alcove that contained your and Minho’s cabins. Sure enough, there was the camera, out in the top corner of the workshop, furthest away from you. For a moment, you wondered how you could temporarily disable it, when the ship rumbled to life. This was a good development, you realized. Chan would be too busy monitoring the launch to be watching the cameras.

The keycard was slipping between your sweaty fingers while you tiptoed over to Minho’s door. Sure enough, it beeped open right away.

God, Chan was dumb. Of course the keys were universal.

But, you internally admitted, you did take advantage of a pretty dire situation to not so much steal the card as keep it. The key working on all the locks could very well be an open secret.

Inside the cabin, you expected Minho to be lounging on his bed, since that was what was on the other side of your wall. Instead, he was inspecting his chin in the mirror inside his closet. “I’m kind of glad I never could grow a beard like I used to before the Marines,” he nonchalantly remarked. “I haven’t been able to shave in days since I got grabbed at the spaceport–”

“Well, you were right,” you blurted heatedly. “I’m pissed at Jisung.”

Minho looked at you, his eyes lit up. “Is that what you’ve been up to?”

You were about to answer, go on a full tirade, when the ship rumbled underfoot again. According to the view outside, the ship was taxiing to the one boost lane in The Hatchery. The intercom must’ve been muted or deactivated in this cabin, because you could hear it muffled in your own room next door, beginning the countdown, but not in here. Minho sat on his bed.

“So you’re pissed at Jisung,” he echoed you. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I don’t know what it’s going to be like at Sentury yet, or even how long we’re going to be there, so–”

You were interrupted twice. First, Minho blinked at you, clearly confused.

Then the ship launched. You didn’t quite internalize what that countdown was for, you realized.

Minho caught you when you went flying, breaking your fall onto the bed and preventing you from slamming into the back wall.

He was a little distracted, judging by the way he softly smiled. “You smell like the ocean. Did you have fun?”

“I loved it,” you smirked back.

“So, wait,” he interrupted with a shake of his head, getting you both back on topic, “I thought this was all going down at Victory Meridian.”

You watched clouds slowly turn into space outside Minho’s window. “That’s not exactly what I heard,” you clarified. “How did you get Jisung to spill anyway? All I remember is you left the port authority before us and ended up back at the ship after us.”

Minho shrugged. With how he’d caught you, he was now basically lying beside you in bed. “Jisung was being cagey so I pulled over into an alley and Hyunjin kept watch.”

Your apparent look of horror made him pause.

“Calm down; I didn’t hurt him. I just gave him an idea of what could happen if he didn’t talk.”

“Fine,” you accepted. “So he talked.”

“Well, he clearly didn’t tell me the truth,” Minho huffed, agitated.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” you argued. “At least not entirely. Jisung told me this is going down at Sentury but the payday would be in Victory Meridian.”

Minho stroked his chin. Annoyingly, from here, he looked gorgeous in the light of the jumpspace stream. “Interesting,” he ruminated. “Anything in particular?”

You were about to answer him, tell him all about the nightclub and the safety deposit box but – at that precise moment – the door opened.

Chan stared at both of you, a tray of food from the galley in his hands. He didn’t yell, he didn’t curse; he only raised an eyebrow. The captain simply walked over to Minho’s desk, roughly set the tray down, and returned to the heavy cabin door, tongue poked into his cheek in clear frustration. He silently waited, leaning against the door with his arms folded until you warily climbed out of Minho’s bed. You were about to leave when he stopped you, expectantly waiting for you again with a hand outstretched. At this, you pulled out the keycard and spitefully dropped it into his hand.

Satisfied, he let you exit before he swung Minho’s door shut and went on his way, not even taking any time to berate you.

“Hey!” you stopped him. “Don’t you want to know what was going on?”

“No,” Chan stubbornly replied while he headed back toward the galley. “I was just wondering what you were up to since you weren’t on the bridge for launch. Sorry for interrupting.”

You almost scoffed when Chan roughly closed the workshop door behind him, and you returned to your cabin. There was a tapping sound at the back of your closet. When you approached and tapped in return, the noise stopped.

“Hey,” came Minho’s voice. “Be careful about this lead, okay? We don’t really have enough info.”

You wondered if Jisung was being careful, if that had ever been a thought in his mind when he told either of you any of this, when your stomach voiced a wretched grumble at you. Chan had been holding a tray of food, so it must be time to eat, and now your hunger caught up with you. But the thought of sharing space with either of those assholes, Chan or Jisung, was killing you. Especially Jisung. You wrinkled your nose at the conclusion that leaving to grab food would probably mean running into the pilot’s stupid face.

As if he read your mind, your intercom crackled on. “Hey,” Jisung greeted, “I know you’re pissed at me, so I just wanted to tell you I already grabbed my food.”

You felt a little ridiculous, side-eyeing the intercom as if it were Jisung himself.

“I meant it, by the way,” he added. “I bet you already talked to Minho somehow. And if you did, I’m sure you figured out I didn’t give him the whole story. I really did tell you first, just like I wanted to and just like I told you.”

There were those feelings again. You really did hate how much this complicated things.

“Hey,” came Jisung again. “You know I can activate the Talk button on your intercom, right? I better hear you leave in the next ten seconds to go get some food or I’m going to annoy the shit out of you.”

You rolled your eyes and pettily blew hard into the receiver on your intercom when you walked past it, swinging the door shut behind you for good measure to make sure you provided a good racket on Jisung’s end. Passing through the workshop, the seal of the galley door blew more chilled air at you and you were thankful you changed into some dry clothes, but now you were living with crunchy, salty hair. By now, you were bemoaning the idea of having to spend time around anyone when you’d already had such a long day. Thankfully, however, it seemed everyone felt similarly, with Hyunjin breezing out of the kitchen carrying a plate and heading right back downstairs. Jisung was upstairs, and you assumed Chan was too, and it made sense to you that Felix and Changbin were nowhere to be seen. Jeongin was busy washing dishes, assumedly having also helped take over cooking duties since Felix was indisposed, but he seemed to hear you nonetheless. He peeked over his shoulder, waving when he caught sight of you and drying his hands so he could hand you a plate he apparently had saved for you, just like Felix had begun to do.

And despite all this, you were surprised when Seungmin emerged from the kitchen behind him, his glasses still smudged with Azure and dressed down into a sweatshirt with some joggers.

For a mortifying second, you wondered if Seungmin still liked you.

Of course he didn’t, not after Chan humiliated you at the beginning of the day, outing your escapades to everyone but especially to Seungmin, the one person who cared, apparently.

“Hey!” the navigator acknowledged you, eyes lit up and everything. “I was just thinking about you.”

Oh?

He sat down in the booth in the common area and waved you over. You tried to compose yourself while you sat down beside him.

“So, how was your meeting?” you tentatively asked, even though you thought you might know the answer already. Minho had mentioned something about the navigator likely dealing with some minor memory loss.

Seungmin self-consciously laughed into his coffee. “I wish I remembered it.”

“You don’t remember?” you implored. “What do you remember? From anything? From this morning?”

He held up his hand, thumb meeting his fingertips to make a “0”. “Nothing,” he chuckled. “I’m betting you already know what happened, because Chan told me when I woke up the first time, and he made sure to tell me that everyone knows. Well, I mean, everyone but me. I remember yesterday, at least. Changbin and Felix are fighting? The last thing I remember was hanging out with Jisung and Hyunjin after we landed.”

“Changbin and Felix aren’t fighting anymore…” you dazedly informed him, trailing off while you wrapped your head around this. Assumedly, from what you could tell, the last events Seungmin recalled were the two of you getting frisky on the bridge during landing and then getting ready for customs afterwards. Nothing from that morning. Nothing about Chan outing you. Seungmin didn’t know you slept with almost half the inhabitants of the ship.

If you wanted, apparently, you were in the clear. You didn’t obliterate your chances with Seungmin.

He still liked you, and it was obvious from the way he was eager to hear more.

“What?!” he laughed. “What do you mean, they’re not fighting? This was, quite literally, the worst fight those two ever had.”

“Well,” you laughed, still trying to ground this whole revelation about Seungmin’s memory, “Felix got tagged when we were on the surface–”

“WHAT?!” Seungmin blurted again, gobsmacked.

It went back and forth like this. First, you informed Seungmin about Chan’s ridiculous punishment with the gun. You did fudge a detail or two in your retelling, mostly leaving the sordid cause of the whole debacle out of it. Instead you opted to frame it as simply Chan getting back at you for talking to Minho since you came on board.

“What a dick,” the navigator commiserated. “I don’t know what he has against you, but Chan is such a dick sometimes. It makes sense that you’d talk to Minho; he’s the first person that you met on board and you both got picked up on T’kaarm. I assume there’s some mutual interest there.”

You could think of a couple reasons Chan had it out for you. First and biggest of all was how he did not trust your interactions with Minho. That was pretty justified, but there was something about it that felt a little… personal. But that wasn’t what stood out to you most.

For some reason, it never really occurred to you that Minho hadn’t been detained long when you stumbled into the Ambler in the first place, but that instead he’d only recently been bagged. It suddenly seemed strange that you’d never run into him before then, but you pushed past this, instead regaling everything that had gone down in The Hatchery for Seungmin, from Minho saving Felix to all of you finding Jisung when you went to go spring Hyunjin out of jail. You did decide to leave out Jisung’s lead, however. Like Minho said, there still wasn’t much information surrounding it. Nevertheless, Seungmin was enraptured, following every word you said until you decided to share what Changbin and Jeongin could recall of his meeting with his clients.

Seungmin’s cheeks rouged for a minute. “I wouldn’t put it past me to mess up a drop like this,” he explained. “I’ve been a little stressed ever since I realized I needed to get those guys physical charts so I’m not surprised that I probably made it look like I was about to pull something. Can’t say I’m even mad. But Azure? I haven’t messed with that stuff since Academy and I hated it.”

“I’m glad you’re alright, though,” you worried. Feeling a little brazen, you reached for his glasses and used your shirt to wipe the remaining blue dust off the lenses. It was admittedly hilarious, feeling bashful about this when the last time you’d been close like this had been spent with you and Seungmin engaging in much more than innocent little gestures.

“I’m glad you’re alright, too,” he smiled. “Sounds like you’ve had a crazy day.” He had the kindest eyes behind those glasses. You mused for a second that this must’ve been what it was like to date normally.

In a moment that caught you viscerally off guard, Seungmin combed your hair back behind your ear with his fingers.

“You still smell like the ocean,” he sweetly observed, inadvertently echoing Minho from earlier and making your heart thump embarrassingly in your chest. “What else are you doing tonight?”

“Me?” you dumbly asked. “I was thinking a shower. Crazy day and all, like you said. And you?”

“Oh,” Seungmin shrugged flippantly. “I was thinking of turning in... Still pretty tired.”

This whole exchange felt incredibly loaded. Was Seungmin trying to see if you’d proposition him? He was expectantly lingering in the booth, his arm slung on the back of the seat where he faced you. You came to the realization that this might’ve even been an opportunity to kiss him.

But was now even the time?

You may have had a clear slate, but of the seven souls on board besides you and him, you still had the knowledge that you’d fucked three of them.

Not to mention they all knew, too.

Literally the only person who didn’t know was Seungmin.

Jisung’s remark that Seungmin was an all or nothing kind of guy was gnawing at you.

And you didn’t know how to feel about that.

Which, regrettably, meant you had to leave this be.

“I should let you get going to bed then,” you begrudgingly decided. You managed to put on a gentle smile, but that didn’t stop Seungmin from looking a little crushed.

Fine. Maybe you could cut it halfway.

You leaned forward, softly kissing his cheek. “Goodnight, Seungmin,” you smirked. You pulled back before he got any ideas.

That same, warm smile returned. “Goodnight, Nova,” he bid you farewell, watching as you slid out of the booth and got up to your feet.

You giddily headed back to your cabin, caught between feeling like you got away with something but also feeling the rush of having any sort of positive effect like this on a guy like Seungmin. And it wasn’t even like you were lying; you did still want to shower, the idea of some warm water really on your skin to clear your head was sounding especially refreshing after the whole day.

The act of grabbing your toiletries was automatic, drifting through time and space and only coming back into consciousness long enough to note that Seungmin already went back upstairs by the time you retreated into the central head on board the ship. Your shower shoes did a terrible job as usual keeping you magnetized to the floor, but all that mattered was the soothing sensation of physically washing off all this action so you could recenter yourself for whatever was coming next.

Mainly, there was the headache of this lead that Jisung had given you. Club scenes were never really your thing, but you figured they were pretty similar anywhere you went. Assumedly, if there was a hidden treasure, someone had to hate whoever was keeping it enough to spill where it was being kept and how to access it. In a club or casino setting, this was almost always some employee, but you could figure it out if this was someone in management, too, or even someone connected on the outside.

And, of course, there was the bigger headache. Did you even want to work with Jisung on this?

He stole your shit and risked losing it and went to jail for it – all for this lead.

But he also made sure to only tell you the whole truth.

Allegedly.

Following this trail of thought, something Minho had said earlier suddenly stood out to you, plain as day, lit up in neon lights:

Hyunjin was standing watch while Minho coerced Jisung into telling him the partial truth that he ended up getting.

What exactly did that look like?

Keeping watch in an alleyway could’ve meant that Hyunjin had been meters away… or maybe right next to them.

Your mind raced when the seal of the door to the washroom hissed, making you jump.

“Hyunjin, that better not be you. I know you hate jail but if you’re wasting the filtration system again I’m gonna–”

Of course.

You and Chan stared at each other, the captain walking in on you for a second time. His eyes blew wide open upon this realization and he clapped his cybernetic hand over his eyes before he turned around. Unlike you, who preferred to walk in and out of the showers fully dressed, Chan only wore a towel secured around his hips.

“Do you want to say sorry?” you jeered. “Not very fitting behavior for a captain, walking in on a lady.”

“Some lady,” scoffed Chan. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on between you and the bounty?” He still wasn’t looking at you from the doorway to the shower stalls.

You turned off the water, leaving the annoying hum of the vent as background noise for this confrontation. Chan’s Adam's apple visibly bobbed when you grabbed your towel near the doorway, taking your sweet time to dry off.

“You’re too paranoid, Captain,” you coolly dismissed him with a roll of your eyes. “I thought we were friends. Or at least potential friends, as you phrased it. Why are you so convinced something is going on?”

“Look,” he huffed, a hand still covering his eyes, “I need to know. Not even as a friend, not even as a potential friend, but as Captain. This guy is fucking dangerous and I need to know if anything is putting my crew or ship at risk.”

“Your ship?” you immaturely questioned.

“Jisung’s ship,” Chan grumbled. “And just because you fucked the guy doesn’t mean you know him.”

You reached for Chan’s cybernetic arm. He stubbornly closed his eyes instead, wrenching them more tightly shut when he felt you hook your used towel on his fingers. “Likewise, handsome,” you refuted. “I don’t know you because we fucked, just like you don’t know me. What’s so dangerous about him anyway?”

“You’re impossible,” the captain bit back, glaring at you until he caught sight of you still standing naked in front of him. He shut his eyes again. “I’m just asking for some fucking respect and loyalty if you’re going to be on the crew.”

“And who says you don’t have it?” you laughed, taking extra long to pull on your clean clothes. “Who says I’m not playing him?”

You finished getting dressed and teasingly pulled at Chan’s own towel. He dropped yours and immediately saved his from falling, eyes flying open in the process. There was that look again, like he could eat you alive and enjoy every minute of it. For hating being called a pirate, he pretty firmly embodied the reputation such a title would have.

But maybe the role of bounty hunter and intersystem trader carried similar connotations. Chan seemed like just as much of a scoundrel as Minho did. You respected it, at least a little.

“If that’s the case, Miss Nova,” mocked the captain, rolling his neck before he squared his shoulders across from you in the doorway, “if you are playing him, then why not make an alliance? Not to the crew or anything, just to me. Just so I know you actually have my back, no matter what you do, or who you fuck.”

Lucky for Chan, he finally cracked you. You hadn’t considered that the captain would hit you with the exact proposition Minho had, and you needed to think about this. A hint of a smirk tugged at Chan’s lips. If you took him up on this, you could approach the whole arrangement exactly like you were with Minho: say yes, and do whatever the hell you want later if it came down to it. But, obviously, there was the very real possibility that this could all blow up in your face.

#lee minho x reader #kim seungmin x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #ALWAYS CHECK THE TAGS 💕#OOPS ALL TENSION #search your feelings you know the author craves chaos 😌

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noxexistant · 1 year

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Yesss once we're friends I just am perpetually excited to talk to you forevermore.

Im sorry I am also tired lol I stayed up too late

Oof that sucks. :/

BLINK MY BELOVED

So he is working on a poem for mush. He is worrying about his best friend. He is entertaining snipeshooter and Tumbler and teaching them tricks to sell better.he is saving up to get jack a gift.

me too! i totally accidentally stayed up until like 3am lmao, got possessed with that newsies writing fever. it’s just so much fun having people message me stuff like this, talking about their headcanons and ideas n asking for mine, and people telling me about their own newsies productions!! i love it so much, absolutely worth staying up late for

blink!!! 😭 what an absolute sweetheart

i like to think he started on the poem in his head totally by accident, just letting his mind wander while selling during the day - thinking about mush, like he very often does - but he struggled to keep it straight so started scribbling it down on a piece of paper he asked to pull from one of jack’s notebooks. his handwriting is atrocious, but he can read it just fine - he’s just worried about, when it’s finished, whether mush will be able to read it too. oh, god, blink thinks, am i gonna have to read it out loud to him?

he starts mentally going through the newsies to work out who he trusts to write it out neatly for him, and who’s also capable of keeping a secret. race has got nice handwriting - he’s well-practiced, scrawling out betting slips - but he’s also got a big mouth. maybe buttons could do it.

borrowing the paper from jack also directly influences blink’s desire to get jack a gift, because he can’t stop thinking about how much jack gives to them all and how little he keeps for himself. tearing pages even out of his notebooks that he treats like gold in order to let people draw when they want to or write when they need it. jack runs out of pages often, and ends up sketching on the backs of leaflets and stuff again until he can get his hands on more real paper. because of that, blink’s poem is only on the one sheet - absolutely chock-full of his writing, full of scribbles and blacked-out lines, crammed all snaking around the other words on the page to make more room.

and ohhh man blink teaching the kiddos tricks to sell. blink’s a good entertainer, he’s had a lot of practice, teaching himself how to juggle objects and the like because he was a little scared of the effects losing his eye might have. it’s difficult living without depth perception, he knows even after he ages out of being a newsie nobody’ll have him working in their factory - they probably wouldn’t even have him on a farm, afraid being half-blind also makes him useless - but blink is anything but useless. he shows off to prove it, and the kids think he’s tons of fun.

his eye is also a double-edged sword for selling. it earns him sympathy sometimes like any disability does - he knows other kids that wear eyepatches that don’t even really need them, just wanna pretend to earn that same sympathy, and because of that folks sometimes don’t believe him either. he’s been jabbed by people’s canes and umbrellas and squinted at, asked if his eye’s really bad or if he’s faking. and, if he don’t wear his patch, people are scared of him. disgusted. he’s had women ask to see and then scream when he lifted his patch to show his empty socket. nobody wants to buy a pape from nobody who looks like that.

so, he’s learnt the balance - the exact right space between useful and helpless you’ve gotta be as a newsie to make sales, whether they’re people buying papes to read the news or buying papes to hand a few coins to a poor kid. it doesn’t matter to blink, money’s money. that’s a big part of what he teaches the kids.

#newsies #kid blink #my headcanons #answered #anonymous

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chaoswithkaycee · 2 years

Text

Hellfire and Honeysuckle, Chapter Eight

Synopsis: A new girl has moved to Hawkins after the events of the hospital attack, with her own story and her own secrets. She's passionate about many things - her education, baking, friendship, kindness - and ready to finally make friends after a lifetime of running from place to place.

Warnings: Discussion of chronic pain, a little bit of infantilization of disabled people (it's leading up to something, I swear), discussion of domestic abuse, fluff and angst

Rating: Minors DNI, this fic will have smut in later parts.

Author’s Note: This one got delayed because I managed to injure my hip just like Honey - that's the joy of writing disabled characters as a disabled person, I guess. Thank you to @thisishellfire and @writerwannabetree for their continued support of this fic, and thank you to @queenlydias for being the one who listens to my ideas and proofreads for me. Literally could not be doing this without Winter's help and I'm eternally grateful to them.

Honey

Honey had been having such a nice dream, pressed up against him. She’d drifted off slowly, savoring the warmth and safety that his smell and embrace brought, a different kind of comfort than any she’d known. She’d dreamt of her little fairy hovel in a tree again, but it was so much warmer and more comfortable than she remembered. She sank into the bed, pillow soft as a cloud, surrounded by the smell of the tree.

And then she woke up, her hip sending sharp signals of pain up her back, clawing its way through her. She tried to close her eyes against it, her hands tightening against Eddie, taking fistfuls of his shirt as she squirmed and rocked her hips, trying to find some position to slow the pain in her side. She knew she wouldn’t have the medicine forever, and she didn’t want to take it. She wanted to have a clear mind, with school, with her mom, with her life, but especially with Eddie. She’d spent months trying not to fall apart every time she was near him, thinking about him before bed, counting down the seconds until class and between class and lunch; and now she was pressed against him and he was letting out the softest of snores against her head and she just wanted to be aware. She felt tears of pain slipping out and sniffled as she continued squirming to find some sort of motion that made the pain stop or at least slow.

His breathing changed suddenly, then she felt his arm beneath her cheek flex and his hand was on her shoulder, pulling her back a little bit so that he could see her face. The bedroom light was still on, and the room felt too bright. She screwed her eyes closed tighter, letting go of his shirt to roll onto her other side, taking pressure off the injured hip. In unison, he scooted himself against her back, wrapping himself around her and bringing his right hand down to rub her hip.

“Is it hurting?” He asked, pressing his lips against her shoulder as he spoke. She whimpered and nodded, face pinched tight as she tried to keep from hollering. She felt his position shift again, his hand moved off her hip. “Shit, princess, it’s past midnight. Way past time for your next dose.” He whispered after glancing at his watch, reaching over her body to grab the pill bottle and water bottle.

“No. I don’t wanna take the medicine.” She muttered, putting a hand out to stop his arm.

“Why not? You’re in pain.” He stated, bringing his hand down and wrapping it around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as she tried to rock herself again.

“Wanna be awake. Wanna be aware. Be with you, be able to focus.” She mumbled, gritting her teeth.

“Honey, take the medicine. I’ll stay here until you can sleep again, then I’ll leave before your mom gets home and come back tomorrow, okay?” He whispered, lips moving along her shoulder and up her neck to her ear. She shook her head in response.

“It’ll pass.” She replied, sweat beading on her forehead. He sighed.

“Baby. Take the medicine. I’m not asking.” He finally said, using the same low and stern voice again. She stilled, then slumped against the arm on the pillow.

“Can you open the bottle for me?” She asked, feeling his eyes on her from behind.

She felt his movement around and behind her as he leaned over her body again, getting the medicine out and opening her water bottle before bringing both closer to the edge of the bedside table. She scooted and twisted herself into a mostly upright position, steadying herself between him and the headboard as he brought the pill and water bottle to her. He watched her take them and she felt a sense of shame as she swallowed, hands shaking. It was one thing for her mother to take care of her - that almost felt expected. Her mother had always taken care of her, helped her with baths as a child and done her hair for her and mended her clothes and cooked her food - that’s what mothers do, Mama said. It was normal, even right, for Mama to make sure Honey took medicine or helped her with bathing when she couldn’t get her body to work or brushed her hair. It wasn’t normal, expected, or fair for Eddie to be taking care of her too. She was being difficult for selfish reasons. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, eyes downcast.

His hand came up, cradling her jaw, as he took her water bottle and took a sip for himself before reaching across to put it back on the bedside table. “For what?” He asked, setting his back against the headboard and opening his arms to her. She pushed herself against him, head against his chest, hips unmoving as she scooted closer.

“Arguin’. The medicine helps the pain but…It feels like I’m not real when I take it.” She whispered quietly, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“What do you mean?” He followed up his question with a kiss to the top of her head, resting his chin against her as he brought his other hand to hers, stilling her fingers on the hem.

“I can’t focus, I can’t do certain tasks, I have trouble tellin’ real life from drug fantasy. I get so tired, and I sleep and sleep until my next dose. I don’t think I’ve even been awake enough for a proper meal in three days. I can’t see straight, I can’t think. I don’t want that all the time, and definitely not right now.” She turned her hand, lacing her fingers into his. “You have about thirty minutes before the medicine makes me incoherent.” She added, kissing their intertwined fingers. She heard him let out a contented sigh.

“Then I think I’ll spend the next twenty-nine minutes enjoying you.” She heard his voice rumble through his chest, against her ear, and giggled. She tilted her head back, looking up at him, to find he was looking back down at her. “Honey.” He said quietly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “My Honey.” He corrected himself, dropping another kiss. She shivered, her hand tightening in his.

“When did you know you had a crush on me?” She asked, shifting to adjust her hips again. He smiled.

“Now, that is the perfect thing to talk about for the next - “ He glanced down at his watch, “Twenty-eight minutes.” She smiled up at him, marveling at how quickly the night had changed.

“Do you remember your first Hellfire session?” He asked, running his hand up and down her arm. She nodded, resting her cheek against him. He continued. “You had the sweetest smile and I thought yep, I’m done for. And I was. Spent the whole weekend thinking about you after I dropped you off. So I guess I had a crush from the beginning.” She snuggled her cheek against him. “When did you know you had a crush on me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She hummed, eyes already closing.

“I asked when you knew you had feelings for me.” He repeated. She thought for a second.

“I think from the beginning too. You were so nice from the moment I stepped in the door, you drove me home. Then you showed up to take me to school the next week and I just…kinda knew. I didn’t want to tell you, but it meant a lot to me that you showed up. Oh, then there was my birthday. Ugh, I could’ve kissed you.” She laughed, tilting her head back to look up at him again.

“I tried to kiss you that night.” He admitted. “But you just hugged me so I thought you didn’t have the same feelings. I even asked Stephanie to find out if you had a crush when she joined Hellfire.” His arm had wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip. The thumb of his other hand rubbed circles on her knuckle where their fingers were intertwined. She watched his thumb, biting her lip.

“So if I’d been honest and told her I had a crush, what would you have done?” She asked. He took a breath.

“Asked you on a date. A movie or something. Tell you how I felt. Maybe we’d have been here a lot sooner.” She settled her head against his chest, closing her eyes again.

“I think I’m just happy we’re here now.” She said quietly, hearing his “Mm-hm.” In his chest as he agreed.

She’d started drifting off again, their hands coming to rest against his abdomen, when she heard him speak again. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.” He said it quietly, like he didn’t actually expect her to hear it. She sighed contentedly against his chest.

“Thank you, Eddie.” She replied, pulling their fingers apart to wrap her arm around his waist and pull herself tighter against him. He responded in kind by bringing his arm over her, holding her against him.

“Go to sleep, princess. I’ll be here.”

“Promise?” Her voice was airy, almost a sigh.

“Cross my heart.” He whispered back, pressing his lips against the crown of her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie

He waited until her breathing had slowed and her body had relaxed before he moved again. He intended to keep his promise - he’d leave and come back in the morning, making sure her mother didn’t find them in bed together. Just because nothing had happened, didn’t mean her mother would believe it. Slowly, he moved out from her embrace, feeling cold almost instantly as he slipped away and shuffled down the bed to avoid jostling her. He’d just managed to get the blanket pulled up over her and started putting his belt and rings back on when she rolled over, eyes barely open.

“Take my keys.” She mumbled.

“What, baby?” He leaned over her to listen.

“Take my keys. To lock the door and come back. They’re by the door.” She repeated, closing her eyes again.

“Will do, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead as she whispered a “See you too.” And slipped out of her room. He slipped his shoes on at the door, grabbed his jacket and her keys, and closed the front door gently, locking it and heading back to his van. Just a few hours and he’d be back, he promised himself, feeling a tug in his chest. It was cold and she was warm. It was dark and she was light. Somehow, without meaning to, without either of them expecting it, she’d become a missing piece for him and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

It felt like the rest of the night, and morning, passed at a snail's pace. The drive home, tossing and turning in his bed, fucking his fist twice to get the memory of the feeling of her ass in his hands out of his head, trying to sleep, waiting for an appropriate time to return, reminding himself that she was finally his - it all felt like it lasted for years. He was sure he’d be a shriveled old man by the time he saw her again. He found himself pacing his room after less than four hours of sleep, waiting, waiting, waiting. She was ten minutes away and he wanted to be there. He didn’t even care if it was just to watch her sleep - he wanted to be there, next to her. She finally knew how he felt, she finally let him hold her, and now he had to wait to hold her again. It almost didn’t seem fair. He watched the sun come up from his bedroom window, chewing his nails, pacing, forcing himself to shower, to eat some cereal. Anything to pass the time. Finally, by noon, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled on his leather jacket and denim vest, started up his van, and headed over.

He expected her mother to be home - it was early afternoon, after all - so he wasn’t surprised to see her car in the driveway. What did surprise him, however, was her mother sitting on one of the porch chairs, wrapped in a jacket and smoking a cigarette, still in her scrubs, her own blonde curls piled into a tight bun. He debated getting out of the warm van for a few seconds, but she lifted her hand in a wave and he knew he was caught. He parked and climbed out, walking up the pathway to the porch in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. She gestured to the seat across the small glass table from her, and he obediently sat, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from chewing his fingernails again. His girlfriend’s mother waiting to talk to him out of earshot didn’t bode well - especially not so soon.

“You look as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs - you must be Eddie Munson.” She said, bringing the cigarette to her lips for another drag. Honey’s mother was much thinner than her daughter - he marveled that this tiny woman could manage to lift heavy medical equipment at all. She favored the color pink, he noticed - pink scrubs, a bright pink jacket. Even her white sneakers had pink laces. Looking down, he noticed the ashtray next to her already had a few butts in it - how long had she been out here? He swallowed.

“Yes ma’am.” He said quietly, looking out at the yard in front of them. Maybe if he didn’t look at her, he’d be less nervous.

“I’m Pamela. You can call me Pam.” She stuck her hand out across the table and he shook it quickly, looking back out at the yard. “I’ve heard about you.” Her accent was stronger than Honey’s, but more consistent. The product of growing up in one place, he assumed, remembering how Honey had moved around so much. He tried not to dwell on the ominous statement - ‘I’ve heard about you’. Most people in this town didn’t have nice things to say about him. Who had she been listening to? He felt her eyes on his cheek and turned to look at her.

“You have?” He finally answered.

“Yes. A lot about you, actually. Honey talks about you constantly.” He forced a tight-lipped smile. Well, one good thing was going for him at least. “And I hear things around town, of course. You seem to be pretty well-known.” He tried not to gulp. There it was. He couldn’t figure out her tone of voice. She wasn’t hostile, but she didn’t sound friendly either.

“I was seventeen when I got pregnant with her.” She said, having turned away from him to take another drag off the cigarette. He glanced to the side, looking at her profile for a second before looking back down at the ground. Why the life story?

“She never told me that.” He spoke quietly, almost mumbling. So Honey’s mother had been a teen mom.

Pamela nodded. “I ain’t ashamed of it, but thank God and Mother Mary that she won’t have to worry about ever getting pregnant.” She added, exhaling and immediately taking another drag. He made a small noise in his throat to encourage her to keep talking, though he was confused about her statement. What did she mean, Honey didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant?

“Married her daddy just before she came around. That’s what you did, in our little town. You got married if you were pregnant. I never really understood why.” She exhaled more smoke, mixing with the cold air, as she tapped her cigarette against the ashtray.

“To stop the gossip?” Eddie asked, glancing at her again, bouncing his leg. She gave a quick nod.

“People talked a lot, whether we were married or not. But my Mama and Daddy, they kicked me out when they found out about Honeysuckle. Marryin’ Honey’s daddy was the only choice I had left.” He was still watching her face. Her jaw was tight with anger, he realized. “I never regretted her. I regretted her daddy, I regretted the timin’. But never her. She was special from the moment that nurse put her on my chest. And when her daddy hurt her, I knew it was time to go. He could hurt me all he wanted. I could take it. But not her. Never her.” He swallowed at the same time as she did. “People said a lot of things about me. I was easy. A harlot. And when I left him? Word got back to me, from a few people here and there. A jezebel. The most wicked of women.” She put out her cigarette, turning to face him.

“It sounds like your hometown had some close-minded people.” He tried to make his statement sound soft, not accusatory. Why was she telling him all of this?

“I did the best I could, with what I had. I never let what they said bother me. I got my diploma, I raised my baby girl, I saved her from that sack of shit what fathered her, and I kept her safe till the day the police got to him last summer. I gave her love and strength and freedom where I could.” He watched her face. Honey’s mother had a strong jawline, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, a scar down the middle of her lower lip and halfway to her chin.

“Yes ma’am, you did.” Was all he could mutter. She tightened her jaw again, gave the tiniest nod of her head, pulled her jacket tighter, and leaned back.

“All that to say, Eddie, is I don’t listen to what the rest of the town says about you, anymore’n I listened to what my town said about me. I listen to what my baby girl says. And my baby girl says you’re a good and kind man.” He breathed a silent sigh of relief, but she continued on. “She’s a better judge’a character than I was, at her age. Never confuses concern with control like I did. So if Baby Girl says Eddie Munson is a good man who makes her happy, then I believe her. Don’t give me a reason to doubt my daughter’s judgement.”

She’d turned to look at him again, and he saw the purple bags under her eyes, the curving of her downturned shoulders. “I’ve been thinking since I got home around seven this mornin’. Honey refused her medicine when I tried to give it to her. Said she wanted to be aware when you came back. She told me about yesterday. Said she wants to go back to school this week. Wants to be around you and her friends.” Her mother sighed. “I got her to take the medicine around 7:30, but she refused again an hour ago. Rolled over and went back to sleep when I tried.”

He looked down at his shoes. “She did the same thing last night, after we kissed. Said she wanted to be able to pay attention to the world.” He heard her mother sigh again.

“I was afraid of that. She can be stubborn as all hell sometimes. Only trait she got from her damn daddy, thankfully.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “Look, Eddie. I have work tonight. I’ll be there till tomorrow mornin’, but then I have tomorrow night and Monday night off. We don’t got family up here. She’s not really in a good state to be alone. I want you to stay with her tonight, if you can.” His head jerked up, meeting her mother’s eyes.

“What?” No really, what?! His girlfriend’s mother just asked him to spend the night with his girlfriend, unsupervised, while she was high on prescription painkillers, knowing he had a bad reputation around town. This had to be a prank.

“I’m serious, son. She’s refusin’ medication and talkin’ about going back to classes. She’s gonna try to do shit on her own, shit she can’t do yet, just to prove a point. Last time she did that, she tried to drive, flipped the car and cracked her skull. I still have her license hidden from her. She’s got a scar on the back of her head from it. I can’t stay with her tonight, not if I want to afford groceries next week. I need to know she’s with someone safe. All I’m askin’ is that you stay with her. I don’t need to know anythin’ else. I just need to know someone is takin’ care of her while I’m at work tonight.”

Honey’s mother was pleading, he realized. Her entire life had revolved around her daughter - now older than she had been when pregnant. All she’d ever wanted to do was make sure Honey was loved and safe, and she was asking for his help. She looked close to tears, and he thought about the weight on her shoulders. At his age, she already had a toddler to protect from an abusive husband. And damn it, she had those same gray eyes that Honey had. There was no thundercloud behind hers though - just rain. Just sadness, exhaustion.

“I can stay with her.” He finally said. He could see her shoulders relax.

“Thank you.” They sat for a few more minutes before the cold started to get to him and he felt his teeth start to chatter, though he tried to hold his jaw tight to stop it. She looked over, stood, and walked past him to the door, opening it and gesturing for him to go in. He did, breathing in the warm house as he shed his vest and jacket. Knowing his Honey was just down the hall and around the corner, probably still asleep. There was an awkward moment as he stood in the entryway, facing her mother, wanting to go to Honey.

“I’m gonna get some sleep before work tonight. Please, whatever you do,” He saw the heavy weight return to her shoulders for a moment, “Just be good to my baby girl. That’s all I care about. She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions. I just want you to be good to her.” She turned before he could answer, going through the door to her bedroom and closing it without looking back. He stood there in the hallway for a moment, staring at the empty space and closed door.

“I will. I can promise that.” He finally whispered to the empty hallway, kicking off his shoes by the door and following the hallway down to Honey’s room. Her door was cracked. He peeked in, seeing her sleeping form curled under her blanket - sunflowers on top, as usual - with her little stuffed elephant clutched to her chest, one of his ears under her cheek on the pillow. Eddie stood in the doorway for a moment before slipping in, closing the door behind him. He watched her as he was removing his rings and belt, then slid under the blankets with her, slipping his arms around her and settling her against him. He felt his own tension melt away and closed his eyes, listening to her breathe. He let one hand slowly slide up her neck, into her hair, feeling the back of her head, until he found a ridged bump. A scar. Her mother wasn’t lying - Honey really had no self-preservation skills sometimes. And now, she was asking him to help protect Honey. His Honey, sleeping in his arms, quiet and soft and sweet. They both trusted him. This was all he’d needed. He curled himself around Honey, feeling his own breathing slow as he took in the scent of sugar around her.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #actually disabled #disability awareness #ehlers danlos awareness #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #honeysuckle #hellfire

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thegirl20 · 2 years

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Yeah, I mean I really can see why people see the mother/daughter thing, although I also like to argue that a mother can have more than one child and yet Tissaia cares about Yennefer than all the others combined lol. Fine, I suppose some people would still see it as parent/child but there would certainly be no small amount of people shipping them. And very few would judge those people for shipping.. Oh I'm under no impression that there's any indication of their relationship going/being romantic

Are you saying Tissaia plays favourites?? How could you suggest such a thing? Perish the thought!! 😉

Yes, Yennefer is Tissaia's favourite, but I think we do get to see her brand of care and compassion for her other wards. She tries to help Fringilla see the error of her ways and return to the right side. She keeps Triss' presence a secret (initially) to protect her and is visibly upset when Triss is angry at her betrayal. She calls them 'my girls'.

I don't actually think we got enough time with the mages to really understand what's going on with them and how everything fits together. I've gleaned a lot from what others have told me about the books, but the show is very surface level in terms of history and lore.

If I'd been writing the show, it would have been called 'Aretuza Academy' and would have shown all of the relationships develop and grow between the sorceresses and would have explained more about the heirarchy of the Brotherhood and how the Council works and stuff.

As it is, I don't think the show does a good job of even telling us where Tissaia sits in the pecking order. In Season 1, she's essentially a teacher and is overruled more than once by others (Yennefer's placement, going to war against Nilfgaard). In Season 1, we barely saw her use magic at all, other than to redirect the lightning bolt Yennefer directed at Sabrina. I've said this elsewhere, but I don't think Fringilla's use of dimeritium to disable Tissaia was actually all that effective, because we as an audience had no idea what level of threat Tissaia was to the other side. If we thought that Tissaia was a high level mage/archmistress and that she single-handedly could have taken down Nilfgaard, then taking her out of the game would have been an 'oh fuck' moment. But we had no basis for thinking that, as we had not seen her unleash her power. Personally I think the gravitas of MyAnna's performance was the only reason anyone had to think that Tissaia was a powerful player, because I'm not entirely sure the narrative supported that. In the first ep of Season 2 we got to see her use her powers more than we had in the entirety of season 1 (seemingly unaffected by inhaling lungfuls of dimeritium), but her level of influence with the Brotherhood and the Council still doesn't seem all that impressive (telling Yen she has to kill Cahir because others want her to etc).

Anyway, I digress.

What I was trying to say is that I think a lot of how we view the characters and relationships in The Witcher comes from our own interpretations and fanon and knowledge from other versions rather than what's been presented on screen, because what was presented on screen was relatively little.

#badassheda #tissaia de vries #yennaia #yennefer x tissaia #the witcher

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shrikepublishing · 1 year

Text

Help R. Val Get Housing Sale

Short Version

Hey all. My name is Val, I'm a disabled trans lady in my late 20s. I'm 1/4th of the Shrike Tabletop team. I'm cowriter on Era of Silence and Blood Neon, and if you interact with us here, Facebook, or Twitter it's usually me talking. I've been absent from a lot of our social media for a while. This post will explain why, and link to a sale.

The tl;dr is I've been homeless for a while but I'm finally on the back end of things. I have the means to move back to DC and get a fresh start. This sale of both my main projects is to help with moving expenses and all the other little things that crop up between places. Get two rich and combatty games, Era of Silence and Blood Neon, for $20. You can also get one or the other for 25% off!

----

Longer Version

My real name is Robin, not a secret but just if you didn't know. I'm a trans woman in my late 20s with a cocktail of mental illnesses I don't want to talk about here, but constitute a disability (i'm more candid on my personal @CitrineSongbird on most social media). I make games and poorly thought out posts

In August of last year my living situation began to grow unstable and my mental health with it, both feeding off the other until late February this year I was unemployed and on the streets. I stayed with a friend for a while, and have been bouncing around ever since.

Thankfully, I've had an amazing support system and have managed to use some tax refund money to stick it out in cheap hotels while I look for new work. Finally, I've got the means to move back to DC and have a go at a fresh start.

It's embarrassing to talk about.

This sale will have both of my main projects, Era of Silence (tactical combat pop rpg in a chemipunk setting) and Blood Neon (hyperviolent vaporwave tac combat)

Game design is more of a side thing for me as it is for most of us. But anyone who has read or knows my work knows I put my all into every project. If you want a preview let me know and I'll hand you a copy, it's nbd.

The money will be used specifically for shoring up expenses.

The move is in June but I'm trying to get ahead of it now. Anything we get on our itch and drivethru this week will go toward this cause. The Era of Silence and Blood Neon teams have been very gracious with me

My main priority of course is getting settled in a job and the new place. But I'll be putting more into my creative work, and our social media presence too because it means a lot to me.

Sharing or picking up one or both of the games goes a long way. And if you do, thank you. There are a lot of good and pressing causes right now, so I understand if you can't right now.

I am grateful to be at the end of this weird bad time. I am grateful for the friends and family that are supporting me. I'm grateful to my colleagues who have been so patient with me. And I'm grateful for you all. I truly love this community and I intend to show it more

-R. Val ❤️

#ttrpg #rpg #dnd #era of silence #fantasy #sci fi #sale #lgbtq #disabled #tabletop roleplaying #dungeons and dragons #d&d

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emimayooo · 2 years

Text

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG @lantur OMG I AM SO SORRY I HAVE ALL NOTIFS OFF SO I DIDN'T NOTICE U TAGGED ME UNTIL I CHECKED TODAY *AHGHHHHHHHHHH*

I am SO very flattered. Thank you very much!!

Anyway, here goes!

Currently Reading: I'm actually on a break! Last month, I read like I was possessed, so I'm recovering from that. But some stand out reads from that crazy reading month were:

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space by Amanda Leduc. I read this for my current WIP, which is a fairy tale retelling focused on disabled + ND characters. I learnt a lot from this. Very valuable insights.

The Heart Principle by Helen Hoang. This was a shock because I didn't enjoy Hoang's previous books, but this one? I sobbed multiple times. It also made me consider whether I might actually be autistic as well...

House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland. The prose is SUBLIME. Finger lickin' good, one might say. Also, this made me understand why people enjoy horror books. It's all about the thrill!

Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb. I initially struggled to get through this, but listening to the audiobook on 1.8x speed while reading helped me lots (I know, very ADHD of me lmao). This was a slow, strangely relaxing read. I am excited to read the sequel.

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison. Warning: the naming system is horrid. You will get so mixed up and not know who's who. BUT. Still a highly enjoyable read with a charming MC. Maia is a certified delight.

Last Song: Would that I by Hozier.

Last Series: Last series I finished was 'What We Do in the Shadows'. It is so very pansexual and so very funny. I adore it to bits. So hyped for season 4!

Last Movie: Encanto! To this day We Don't Talk About Bruno is stuck in my head.

Sweet, Savory or Spicy: Savoury!

Currently Working On:

'Once Upon a Time' -- a FE3H Dimitri x Byleth fairy tale au.

I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR MORE THAN A *YEAR*. YEAH. Last year I was so frustrated that I could never finish any wips, then I got diagnosed with ADHD, and I was like "Ohhhhhhh." So ever since, I've been completely focused on this one project, which is on its last draft...OR SO I THOUGHT! FOR A SEQUEL/SPIN OFF GAME IS COMING OUT AND THE DEMO HAS ALREADY CONTRADICTED MY PLOT THREADS!!! So I will have to put this on the backburner until I finish the spin-off lmao.

Still, I am incredibly proud of OUAT. My prose and style really evolved with this project, and I'm so excited to share a fairy tale with disabled characters. Also, terrified. Because I don't share the disabilities my characters have. I'm worried about misrepresenting them. Sure, I've done research, but will that be enough? I don't know. Still, I'm glad I tried. I will be open to feedback from my readers. I will be vulnerable with them. I will bare my heart to them by sharing this WIP that represents my heart and hope it be enough.

#tag game #again thanks for tagging me lantur!#i dont share my tumblr on ao3 or my fic friends #because i get easily overwhelmed by socmed #so my tumblr is my safe space where i curate the content i want on my dash #and i turn off all notifs so this is a quiet space for me #still im so happy you tagged me! it felt nice to share and leave my hermit hovel for once :)#and a little secret between us: you got me into disability rights #running #and audiobooks #so thank you!!!

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Note

OOOOOO, I really like your writing and u asked for prompts. So, maybe u could do a really shy!reader or mute!reader with peter? I think that be cute! Or you can do it with tom since u said once that you like writing for tom more :)

secret language

Pairing: Peter Parker x Mute!Reader

Synopsis: a study in the silence that comes when two people understand each other

Masterlist

You sat alone at on a bench on your first day of kindergarten, feeling intimidated by the noise and spectacle of it all. You hugged your backpack to your chest, wishing the day could go faster so you could fo home.

Then he came up to you.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” A curly haired boy pulled the seat out next to you and sat down. You waved at Peter and put your backpack on the table, deciding to give him a chance.

“Do you have a name?” Peter asked, and you nodded your head. You took his hand and laid his palm flat, carefully writing your name with your finger.

“Wait, do it again.” Peter requested, watching your every move intently. You wrote your name again on his palm and he titled his head, staring at his hand like the word would be written there.

“Y/n?” He looked up at you once he figured it out. “Am I saying it right?”

You nodded happily and pointed to yourself before giving him a thumbs up. Peter smiled proudly and looked at his hand again.

“Do you not talk?” He wondered, making you shake your head no.

“That’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t like to talk either.”

Peter began to swing his legs, looking around the classroom in awe before his eyes fell on Aunt May, who was talking to the teacher.

“Is your mommy still here?” He turned to you to ask. You nodded and pointed to your mom, who was laughing with one of the single dads.

“She’s pretty. Her shoes are so tall!” Peter exclaimed as he pointed at her high heels. You laughed silently, smiling to show that you agreed. Peter smiled back at you, several teeth in the front row missing. His smile faded suddenly as he looked down at his lap.

“My parents just died.” He confessed to you. “Uncle Ben said they’re in heaven. I tried to look for Heaven on the map on the subway, but I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?”

You shook your head and Peter sighed.

“Me either.” He said, pouring a little as he slumped in his seat. You sat in silence for a moment until you heard a little noise from Peter.

“I miss my mommy.” He said quietly, his voice sounding weak.

Your eyes filled with sympathy for Peter as you stuck your bottom lip out. Peter watched you curiously as you reached out your hand, taking his little one in your own and squeezing it three times. Peter gasped a little, looking up at you with wide eyes as you gave him a gentle smile. It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he was scared, three squeezes to say three words.

I. Love. You.

Aunt May didn’t know about their little ritual, so when Peter squeezed her hand three times as they lowered his mom into the ground, she didn’t squeeze back. It made Peter wonder if anyone would tell him they loved him in the secret language ever again. But here you were, squeezing his hand to let him know it was okay.

“Thank you.” He smiled, his eyes no longer glassy. “I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he noticed that were missing teeth too. Peter pointed to your mouth and laughed before pointing to his own. You both doubled over on the bench (I was over on the bench) in a fit of laughter, as if you had reached the very apex of comedy with missing teeth and gaps in your smiles.

You and Peter spent the day together, communicating though words written on his palm or on a piece of paper. He found it very easy to understand you, even when you didn’t speak. He liked your quiet company far better than the loud children in the class, knocking over blocks and crying over toys. You were different, and Peter liked different.

At the end of the day, Peter saw his family and grabbed your hand, running towards them with you in tow.

“Aunt May! Uncle Ben! I made a friend. She’s a mule.” Peter proudly presented you to his aunt and uncle. You smiled politely at them as they shared a confused look.

“What sweetie?” Aunt May asked as she crouched down a little. In the mean time, your mother had spotted you holding hands with Peter and made her way over.

“Mute. Y/n is a selective mute.” Your mother explained as she came up behind you. “Hi, I’m her mother.”

“Like on a remote!” Peter cheered as the adults shook hands. “Can she come over?”

“Is that alright with her mommy?” Uncle Ben looked at your mother for permission.

“Sure.” Your mother complied. “If you give her a piece of paper, she can write some words down. I’ll give you my number just in case.”

“She doesn’t need paper.” Peter shook his head. “We can already talk, look.”

Peter held you your enjoined hands and squeezed yours three times. You squeezed back, making him grin.

“See? She said she loves me.” He exclaimed, letting your hands drop back to your sides.

“That’s so cute. I was so worried about her making friends. She stopped speaking after her father passed.” Your mother quietly explained to May and Ben.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Peters parents just passed as well.” May said sympathetically while Ben watched the two of you. A complicit smile sat on his lips as he saw his nephew genuinely smile for the first time since his parents died.

“My condolences.” Your mother touched May’s arm kindly.

“Thank you.” May put her hand over your mother’s. “It’s been really difficult for him. It’s been so long since he-“

She was cut off by Peter laughing loudly at something you didn’t say, but conveyed. Tears brimmed in her eyes as you wrote something on Peter’s palm, something that made him light up like the forth of July.

“Since he’s been happy.” She finished.

“Lucky they found each other, huh?” Your mother smiled fondly as she watched you and Peter play, earning a nod from May.

And lucky you were.

Over the next few years, you and Peter developed a secret language entirely comprised of soft touches, expressive looks and squeezes. It was a dialect that only existed between the two of you, and that was how you liked it.

“Welcome, students, to your first day of high school. My name is Mrs. Ingrid, I’ll be your english teacher this year. I’d like us to go around the room and say your name and what you did this summer.”

You looked at Peter with panicked eyes as tired groans echoed around the classroom. It was your very first period of your very first day and you were already freaking out. Peter gave you a gentle smile as he reached across his desk and took your hand, giving it three solid squeezes.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “I got you.”

“Mr. Parker.” Mrs. Ingrid said suddenly. “Since you’re talking, would you like to go first?”

“O-Okay.” Peter stuttered as he stood up from his desk. “My name is Peter Parker. This summer I watched all the Star Wars movies in a row without breaking to sleep.”

“Thank you for sharing.” She nodded curtly and turned to you, as you were seated next to Peter. “Ms. L/n, you can go next.”

“This is-“ Peter began.

“I believe she can speak for herself.” Mrs. Ingrid snapped, narrowing her eyes at Peter. You looked at Peter with eyes full of guilt as you unintentionally made him get off on the wrong foot with the teacher. You expected Peter to be scared, but his face showed that he was perfectly calm.

“Actually she can’t, ma’am.” Peter said politely. “This is Y/n L/n and she’s mute. She also spent her summer watching the Star Wars movies but she fell asleep sometime between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith.”

Surprised murmurs swept though the crowd at the mention of the word “mute”. It was something the students hadn’t been exposed to yet and you felt the individual pricks as they sunk their teeth into it. Knowing the pantomime spotlight was being shone on you, you turned to the class and gave a weak smile.

“My apologies.” Mrs. Ingrid said shortly. “I forgot we had a disabled student this year. Thank you, Peter. And welcome Y/n.”

She turned her back to the class to hide the flush of embarrassment as a student called her out, but Peter had more to say.

“It’s not a disability.” He spoke up, shrinking in his seat when everyone’s eyes went to him.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Ingrid turned around with an unamused grin.

“Well, Y/n is mute because of an anxiety disorder.” Peter explained. “She physically has the ability to speak, but she mentally feels like she can’t. She doesn’t see it as a disability.”

“Did she tell you that?” Flash, a boy with his name stitched onto the pocket of his shirt, asked from somewhere behind the room, making the whole room laugh at you.

The whole room except Peter

Peter turned around in his seat and glared at Flash, armed and ready to defend you if needed.

“Yes, she did.” Peter stated. “She tells me everything.”

Flash snickered and rolled his eyes as Peter turned around in his seat. Other students continues to gawk at you, as if your mutism could be seen on the outside. Your face flamed red until you felt Peters hand on your shoulder, squeezing it three times to calm you down.

“I apologize, Y/n.” Mrs. Ingrid smiled at you. “Would the next student like to go?”

You walked home once the day had ended with Peter by your side, quietly thinking to yourself as he talked about his science class.

“Anyways.” He paused time catch his breath as he finished his story. “How was your day?”

You looked at him sideways before grabbing his hand and writing an “E” on his palm.

“Come on. English wasn’t that bad.” He insisted, grimacing a little when you glared at him. You made a gesture of a circle before sharply pointing at yourself.

“I know. But I bet everyone had a moment today where they felt like everyone was staring at them.” Peter tried to assure you but you rolled your eyes.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Peter said decidedly. “That Flash kid is so annoying though. How many classes do you have with him?”

You held up three fingers and Peters eyes widened in sympathy.

“Three?” He gasped. I’m so sorry. Hopefully he was just trying to show off for the first day.”

You shrugged a little and pantomimed popping your collar, to which Peter laughed.

“Right?” Peter exclaimed. “Why does he dress like a mobsters son?”

Your shoulders moved up and down as you silently laughed with him, nearing your apartment building now.

“We should do something to celebrate our first day.” Peter decided. “What do you want?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, a smile appearing on his face as he caught your drift.

“You read my mind.” He sighed happily and he shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. “Coffee ice cream and Impractical Jokers it is.”

You put your hands over your heart and made a dreamy expression, to which Peter let out a groan.

“Stop it.” He laughed though a whine. “You’re the only one who thinks Sal is hot.”

You shoved him playfully as you entered the lobby of your building, making a face he knew all too well.

“I’m not having this argument with you again.” He wagged his finger in your face as he pushed the elevator button. You pouted and took his hand, writing out an expletive on his palm.

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” Peter feigned a gasp as he held his hand to his chest. You gave him an unamused look as he laughed at his own joke.

“Hey. “ He said suddenly as he took your hand. “Happy first day.”

You reluctantly smiled at his newfound sentimentality and squeezed his hand three times, for for each word.

“Mrs. Ingrid.” Flash’s hand shot up one November morning. “When we present the projects tomorrow, can Brian present mine?”

“No, Eugene.” She sighed, a snicker coming from the class as he used his first name. “Every student must do their own presentation.”

“Then how come Y/n doesn’t have to do one?” He asked spitefully, making everyone look at you. You looked to Peter for help, who was already turned in his seat to face Flash.

“You know why she doesn’t.” He said dully, tired of Flash’s unjustified vendetta against you.

“Well I don’t think it’s fair that she gets special treatment.” Flash short back, making some students “ooo” and agree.

“It’s not special treatment. Y/n is mute, Flash. You, on the other hand, have made it very clear that you are not.” Peter sassed, making the class laugh. Flash’s face turned red in embarrassment as he looked around the room for help.

“Selective mute.” He emphasized. “That means she can talk if she wanted to. You said so on the first day, Penis Parker.”

“It’s not like a light switch she can turn on and off, Flash. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice. Leave her alone.” Peter barked, getting up out of his seat now.

“If she wants me to leave her alone, she should tell me herself.” Flash snapped, getting up as well. You looked between the two boys with fearful eyes, tugging on Peters sleeve to get him to back down.

“What’s your problem?” Peter asked angrily. “What are you, jealous because she’s never spoken in this class yet still outperforms you?”

The class laughed at Peters insult, only making Flash angrier.

“I’d like to see how well she’d do without you as her interpreter.” He yelled as he pointed a finger at Peter.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Ingrid slammed her hands on her desk. “Both of you, sit down. Y/n will be doing a power point presentation. End of discussion.”

“Yeah, that’s enough Eugene.” Peter hissed as he took his seat.

“That’ll be all, Peter.” Mrs. Ingrid narrowed her eyes at your best friend. “If this continues, I’ll have to request that the three of you be separated and put into different classes.”

“Why should Y/n and I be separated just because Flash is a dick?” Peter asked, eyes widened when he realized what he said. The students laughed at the sound of a curse word, even if it was one the uses on a daily. You looked at Peter scornfully and tapped his desk twice, communicating with him to calm down.

“Mr. Parker. I’ll be seeing you in detention.” Mrs. Ingrid stated. “Everyone, take out your textbooks and turn to page 117.”

You put your textbook on your desk and looked at Peter, giving him a sympathetic pout for getting him in trouble. You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it twice to apologize.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered to you. “Detention is a small price to pay for getting to call Flash a dick to his face.”

You squeezed his hand again and tilted your head to the side, making him shake his head at you.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Peter insisted.” It was mine. I interrupted the class, not you. Don’t worry about me.”

You sighed and brushed the side of your nose with your thumb, causing Peter to smile.

“I know.” He said softly. “I always worry about you too.”

You found Peter waiting for you at your locker at the end of the school day, bouncing with excitement to tell you a story from his algebra class. You listened intently as you collected your books, linking your arm through his once you were done. You walked past Mrs. Ingrids classroom and heard someone clear their throat, making you both stop in your tracks.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Parker?” She asked as she appeared in the doorway, arms folded and glasses perched on the lower part of her nose bridge.

“Shoot. I forgot I have detention.” Peter groaned before turning to you. “Do you mind waiting?”

You pointed behind you with your thumb and shrugged as Peter chewed his lip nervously.

“Are you sure? What if somebody asks you for directions?” He worried, not liking the idea of you walking home by yourself. You looked at him like he was silly and pointed your finger in both directions, signally that you could just point someone in the right direction of the asked.

“Well what if the directions are really complex?” Peter added, coming up with any excuse he could think of. You made a gesture that Mrs. Ingrid didn’t understand, but seemed to make all the sense in the world to Peter.

“You’re right. You don’t need a babysitter.” He agreed. “Do you want to meet back in my room at 4?”

You nodded and took his books from him so you could drop them off in his room.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He promised as you took his hand and squeezed it three times.

“I love you too.” He smiled, giving you three squeezes before walking in the direction of the detention room. Mrs. Ingrid watched him until he disappeared around a corner, turning to you once he was gone.

“You and Peter, are you two together?” She questioned, making you shake your head. She smiled a little, looking amused as she took off her glasses and rubbed them on her shirt.

“Someone should tell him that.” She chuckled, sliding her glasses back on her face. You put your hand over your heart and rubbed it in a circle, the first gesture Mrs. Ingrid understood.

“I see.” She nodded. “You have a nice day now, Y/n. Get home safe.”

You smiled in appreciation at her before waving goodbye, walking out the doors of the school and towards your building.

You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your backpack as you walked, taking every precaution to step over the cracks in the sidewalk as you approached them.

“Hey, Hellen Keller, wait up.”

You froze for a moment when you heard Flash’s voice behind you before quickly picking up your pace. Unfortunately, he had the same idea and ran to catch up with you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn around when he got there.

“I was talking to you. Are you deaf too now?” He snickered devilishly as you pulled your arm out of his grasp. You kept walking, but he fell into a stride right beside you.

“So how does it work? Can you and Peter read each other’s thoughts? Does he ever think about me?” Flash batted his eyelashes but you ignored him. You swallowed nervously as you began to wish you had just waited for Peter.

“Come on, Y/n. You should take my interest in you as a compliment.” Flash smirked, making you roll your eyes. “I wanna hear you speak.”

Your unbreaking silence woke up something animalistic in Flash, making him grab both your arms and pushing you into a vacant alley. He pressed you against a wall, gripping both your arms so tight, you were sure they’d bruise.

“Didn’t you hear me? Say something.” He bellowed, getting right in your face as he screamed. You turned your face away and grimaced, fidgeting to get out of his grasp.

“Fine.” He laughed in a way that made your blood turn cold. “You don’t want to talk? Then I wanna hear you scream.”

Your eyes widened as he threw you to the ground, your body skidding on the pavement as you moved. He stalked up to you like a Brute, towering over you as you held up a hand.

“Where’s your little boyfriend now?” He asked, raising his fist above your head. A scream ripped through your throat as his fist came down, never making contact with your face. You opened your eyes slowly and saw him wiping his hands, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“That’s what I thought. See you tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your PowerPoint.” He quipped, spitting on the ground next to you before leaving. Once you were sure he was gone, you sat up. Your hands went to your elbow first, as you felt blood tricking from an open wound. It wasn’t anything serious, just a scrape and a friction burn. Your hands then traveled to your neck, fingers resting over your vocal chords. You hadn’t heard a sound come from your mouth in 10 years, not even a laugh. The scream that came from your mouth was different from screams you’d heard in movies. It was deeper and hollow, as if it came from an animal. Tears stung your eyes as you got up, body aching from hitting the ground. You looked around the corner before continuing your way home, looking over your shoulder every so often out of fear.

You cleaned your elbow up in Peters bathroom, sticking a few Paw Patrol bandaids to the cut as you waiting for him to come home. You ended up falling asleep on his bed, only waking up when he came in a quarter last five.

“Hey sleepy head. I’m sorry I’m late.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt beside his bed. “Mrs. Ingrid made me write on the board 100 times like Bart Simpson. Did you get back okay?”

You nodded as you sat up, slowly opening your sleep heavy eyes. Peter smiled as he smoothed the hair that was sticking up on either side of your part, smile fading when he took a closer look at your face.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” He worried as he cupped your face, turning it slightly to get a better look. Taking a deep breath to brace for Peters reaction, you held out your arm. He caught sight of the bandaids almost instantly, looking at you in disbelief before gently examining your arm.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded as he carefully twisted your arm to see the full extent of the wound. You weakly pantomimed a popped collar, seeing the anger in Peters eyes grow as he understood.

“Fucking Flash.” He stood up abruptly and slammed his hand on his wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.”

You got up and went over to him, shaking your head sympathetically.

“I did too have a choice.” He disagreed. “People skip detention all the time. How could I let this happen?” He asked, more so to himself as he sat on the bed. He put his head in his hands, hiding out of the shame he felt. You took a seat beside him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while resting your head on his body. You tapped his leg four times, making him bring his head out of his heads to shake it.

“It is my fault.” He told you. “I provoked him in English and that’s why he went after you. I should’ve been there. I’m so sorry.”

You pouted and took his chin between your fingers, squeezing his arm twice with your free hand.

“It’s not okay!” He yelled. “He’s been targeting you since day one. I bet he planned this. He’s probably been waiting to get you along. Did he hurt you anywhere else? Oh god, did he touch you?” Peter could barely see past his disgust long enough to get the words, turning a little green as the worst case scenario played in his mind. You frantically shook your head and Peter calmed down just a little.

“He’s lucky. He’d be a dead man if he did.” Peter stated assertively. You tilted your head and gave him a disapproving look that he read in seconds.

“How am I overreacting?” He asked. “You’re hurt! He hurt you! Screw this - I’m gonna kill him.” He got up again and heading towards the door. You sprung up from the bed and threw your arms around him from behind, stopping him in his tracks. You squeezed his tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder as you held him back. He struggled to break out of your grasp until he heard a strangled sound emit from your throat. As distorted and muffled as it was, Peter knew was you were trying to say.

“Stay.”

He hung his head in shame, knowing it scared you when he raised his voice. He put his hands over yours, which had been resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, keeping his eyes down. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You know I worry about you.”

You slowly withdrew your hands and turned him around, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.

“I know you don’t need me to protect you. Is it wrong that I still want too?” He smiled weakly as he leaned into your palms. You shook your head and moved your hands down to his shoulders, shrugging a little to tell him you didn’t mind.

“I’m walking you home tomorrow.” He promised as he pulled you into a hug. “And everyday for the rest of my life.”

You patted his back four times, making his body shake with laughter.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sounds good to me too.”

You entered Peters room a little over a year later after receiving a frantic text. The text contained exactly one word, “ouchie”, and the rest was gibberish. Peters wise eyes met yours and you smiled at him, smile fading as your eyes trailed down his body. He was clad in nothing but his boxers and one single sock, glistening with sweat from head to toe. Your best friends lean and scrawny body that you has seen hundreds of times since your childhood was replaced with broad shoulders and solid muscle, features that made your face burn all the way to your ears. That wasn’t what shocked you, though. What shocked you was the series of papers, pens, shirts, and granola bars that were sticking to his body as if adhered with glue.

“Whats happening to me?” He screamed, tugging at a Nature Valley bar sticking to his nipple. You held back a laugh when you saw how scared he looked and approached him slowly like a deer in the woods. You reached out a hand but he backed away as if you might burn him.

“Don’t.” He croaked. “You’ll stick too and I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

You waved your hand in dismissal and reached out again, placing a cool hand on Peters burning cheek. His eyes shut in tranquillity as he leaned into your hand, letting your touch calm him as it had done so many times in the past.

You peeled a shirt off his shoulder and plucked a pencil off his thigh as his breathing slowed down. You cupped his face in your hands and looked at him, wordlessly asking him to tell you what happened.

“I went to Oscorp yesterday and this spider bit me and I woke up really sweaty - and I mean really sweaty - and then I got super hungry so I went ham on granola bars - and I’m talking ape shit Y/n I didn’t even chew I just went feral on those crumbly bitches - and then things kept sticking to me and I don’t know what to do and-“

You acted on a whim and pulled Peters face towards yours, kissing him firmly on the lips. The only noise in the room was the sound of pens and granola bars hitting the ground as they slowly unstuck from his body. Peter places a gentle hand on your face as he kissed you back. You pulled away, feeling his eyelashes tickle your face as his eyes fluttered open.

“And you just kissed me.” He laughed slightly, pace significantly slower now. You gave him a knowing look and shrugged a little, making him laugh.

“You’re right.” He realized. “You didn’t stick.”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and pressed your forehead against his, letting silence fill the room as he held you.

“I don’t know what this means. I’m…I’m scared.” He whispered as he nuzzled against you. You shook your head a little, telling him he didn’t have to be scared. Moving your head up to look at you, you took his face between your hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. After the third kiss, a cheeky smile lingered on Peters lips.

“I love you too.” He told you, grinning widely before kissing you again.

You laid on Peters chest, a few years out of college now. His shirt was riding up a little, exposing bare skin that served as your canvas. A shy smile made on a home on your face as you traced letters on his skin.

“What was that?” He asked when he felt your touch but couldn’t make out your words. “Say it again.”

You chuckled a little at his phrasing, and he did too. In accordance to his request, you wrote your sentence again, taking your time with the curve of each letter. Peter furrowed his eyebrows a little as he propped himself up on his elbows, a little annoyed with himself for not being able to decipher what you were saying. He prided himself on being fluent in your secret language, so the only possible answer was that whatever you were writing now was something you had never written before.

“Wait, do it again.” He asked, determined to crack the code. You sat up on your elbow as well, looking at him through your lashes as you traced the words again.

“I’m convinced this is gibberish.” Peter shook his head through a chuckle, looking at curiously to see if you were messing with him. You let out a tiny whine as you stuck your bottom lip out, patting his chest twice to tell him to try harder.

“Fine, fine. Try again. But go slowly.”

You sucked in a breath and held your fingernail to his skin, slowly tracing the first word.

“Will?” He asked, grinning when you nodded and continued to write.

“You?” He looked to you for confirmation. “Will you?”

You nodded again, feeling butterflies now and you moved to the next word.

“Many?” He questioned. You shook your head repeatedly, anxious for him to figure it out. You wrote it again and saw it click for him.

“Ohh. Marry.” He smiled, proud of himself for getting it. His eyes met yours and all at once, he understood why he couldn’t figure it out before.

No one fault really, you just never proposed to him before.

“Wait.” His lips curved into a smile as he cupped your chin with his hand.

“Do it again.” He asked, unable to contain his excitement as you repeated your actions.

“One more time.” He pleaded, eyes filling with tears now. “I know what it is, I just want to feel it again.”

You wrote it again, writing it on every exposed part of his body now. You proposed on his arm, his chest, his leg and his bicep, a man excited squeal leaving his throat each time you did it.

“Give me your hand.” He fully sat up now, wrapping his arms around you and taking your hand in his. He opened your hand and flattened your palm, bringing his finger to your skin.

“Y-E-S.” He spelled out loud as he wrote on your palm. “Yes. I will marry you.”

Smoothing your dress with a shaking hand, you turned to your mom for last minute adjustments before you walked down the isle. She smiled widely as she touched up your hair, handing you your bouquet once she was satisfied.

“Are you ready?” She asked. “That’s a dumb question. You’ve been ready for this since kindergarten.”

Nodding at your mothers words of encouragements, you nervously clutched your bouquet of sunflowers and roses, yours and Peters favorite flowers.

“You’re so lucky to have found each other.” Your mother smiled fondly as she dusted off your shoulders. “To understand someone the way you do, it’s rare. Your father would be proud.”

Emotion overcame you as you pulled your mother into a hug, thanking her the only way you could for getting you that far. The vamping of the organ signaled to you that it was time to go, all your nervously butterflies turning into petals of excitement. Your mother gave you an assuring smile as she slipped her hand into yours, both of you facing forward now as the doors opened.

Everyone turned to look at you, a welcome gesture this time around, as you made your way down the isle. You made eye contact with Peter, who had a hand clamped over his mouth to hide his emotions. He wiped tears from his eyes as Ned patted his back, silently willing you to come faster down the isle. In his mind, you couldn’t walk fast enough. He was not interested in spending one more minute as just your boyfriend. As you got closer to the alter, you waved at the Avengers who had put on their best suits to attend your big day.

And finally, you made your way to Peter.

You whole life had been about making your way to Peter, and now, dressed in white, you had arrived. You handed your bouquet to your mother and accepted Peters hand to help you step onto the alter. Peter sniffled a little as he took your hands in his, overwhelmed in the moment by your beauty.

The priest began to speak, but you didn’t hear much. All you could focus on was your childhood best friend, soon to be husband. Your palms sweat as the vows approached, an unfamiliar tickle resting in your throat.

“And now, the vows.” The priest handed the baton to you and Peter.

“Sunsets, flowers, and you. Three beautiful things that don’t make any noise. I believe some of the most wonderful things a human being can experience happen in silence. I believe that because of you.” Peters voice cracked momentarily. “I stand before you today as someone who is permanently subscribed to your silence. I look forward to a lifetime of knowing looks and written messages on the palm of my hand. I never knew how much could be said through three simple squeezes of my hand, but it feels like my entire life has happened since the first time you touched me and the last. Though your voice has never fallen on my ears, I’m confident I could identify it anywhere. You and I have created something incredible rare, a silence that only comes when two people truly know each other. And I know you. I am blessed to say I know you. I have never heard you speak, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear you. I hear you in the early hours of the morning when the birds begin to chirp. I hear you when the blood rushes to my face because you looked at me in a certain way. I hear you when the music swells in my favorite song, and I hear you in every beat of my heart. I won’t tell you I’ll love you until death do us part, because even the jaws of death couldn’t end my love for you. I will just find you in the next life, and the one after that. Nothing could keep me away.”

You touched delicate fingers to your under eyes as you dabbed away tears, squeezing Peters hands three times to thank him for his beautiful words. Now the spotlight had once again returned to you and this time, you were ready.

“Peter.”

Peters eyes widened in astonishment before brimming with tears as your voice fell on his ears for the very first time. It wasn’t perfect after so many years of being unused, but it was yours. That’s what made it Peter’s favorite thing in the world. He bent over and rested his forehead on your enjoyed hands, almost like he was bowing to you. He stayed there for a moment before standing up again, his face full of emotion. You knew he was composed enough for you to continue, so you did.

“I shut my mouth when I was 5 and I didn’t think I was going to open it ever again. But then I met you.” You broke into a smile. You spoke slowly, taking deep breaths every few words. “There is no other way I would want to use my voice than to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you.” You sucked in a deep breath as you got emotional. “My mom worried that I wouldn’t make any friends my first day of school, and I didn’t. I made a partner for life. It is one thing to be loved and another thing to be understood. You give me me both in three small squeezes. I love you, Peter.” You finished, punctuating your vows with three squeezes of his hands.

“I love you too.” He whispered, a steady flow of tears streaming down his face now.

“I love you more.” You said, verbally for the first time.

“Peter Parker, do you take Y/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” The priest asked.

“I do.”

“Y/n L/n, do you take Peter Parker to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and honor, for better or for worse?”

“I do.”

“Oh my God.” Peter gushed, making the crowd laugh. Peter was still recovering from the fact that your first word was his name, and now you had said the two sacred words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” The priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”

Peter wasted no time in taking your face between his hands and kissing you, smiling with joy into the kiss as you officiated your marriage.

“You did so good baby.” He whispered against your lips as the crowd clapped for you.

“Thank you.” You giggled, proud of yourself for what you did. “I’ve been practicing with my therapist since the proposal.”

“It was amazing. That’s was the greatest surprise anyone’s ever given me. Even if it was just for today, I’m so happy I could hear your voice. I love you so much.” He told you before pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder and held him tightly, thanking God that he came up to you that first day of kindergarten.

“I love you too.”

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Perfect Imperfections.

Jeon Jungkook x OC

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ This is nothing but me indulging my love for writing bad cliches. That is it. Its literally a fest of cliche k drama tropes]

Chapter 1

After the accident, my life had become something of a stagnant pond.

Everyday began much the same.

The alarm, mild but not jarring. Not very shrill but definitely insistent, sweeping away any lingering traces of sleep. I blinked awake, cobwebs of exhaustion still marring my vision but a few deep breaths, a few more blinks and I was awake .

And now came the harder part.

Getting my legs to work.

It never got better, despite the many years that I’d spent in physiotherapy. All it really did was stop it from getting worse. Or maybe I’d just gotten used to the pain at this point.

Deep breaths helped. Sometimes.

But not today.

“Mrs Jeon?” The familiar voice made me jump a little.

“Sana...” I said, relieved. “ Could you come over? Seems like I’m going to need some help today.” I laughed nervously, gripping the sheets harder.” Could you help me sit up?”

The girl moved closer, feet nimble and quick and sure and i felt my throat clench in envy. I swallowed it down though, just the way I swallowed every bad thing that came my way.

It had been eight years ago.

A fall from a fifty feet ravine. Cuts and scrapes all over my body, abrasions all over my torso. And legs that had absolutely shattered on impact. Multiple fractures. Motor Nerve Damage on my left leg.

The skin stitched together. The bones grew back.

But the nerve damage stayed.

I wasn’t completely helpless. I could walk with the brace. Slowly and with a mildly awkward gait but I could walk. Even better if I was using crutches.

But it wasn’t something I could hide.

People looked at me and that was the first thing that they noticed.

The girl who couldn’t walk.

I sat still, gripping the edge of the bed as Sana carefully grabbed the brace and helped me put it on. I watched as she carefully set the loops in place, fixed the velcro and finally helped set my toes in place.

“Thank you.” i whispered and she nodded.

“Mr. Jeon left early. He said that he won’t be home tonight.”

I smiled a little.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be caught between us. It must make you feel uncomfortable.” I said .

She looked surprised but quickly ducked her head

“No, Mrs. Jeon.”

I sighed.

“You may leave. I’ll come down soon.” I said quietly.

How handsome he looked, in that beautiful dark suit. How strong and handsome and ...whole.

Right next to a framed article about us from a magazine.

Jungkook ran marathons and trained as a boxer. He worked as the managing director at a steel manufacturing unit . Spent his days overseeing workers in the smelting units, and everyone knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see the Jeon heir, shirtless and sweaty and covered in dirt and getting down and dirty with all the other workers as the ore got delivered.

Someone like that... Someone that perfect.... Deserved a woman who would be an equal. Beautiful and graceful and perfect. And he had had her. My sister. For three years, I’d watched my sister and Jungkook be the perfect couple . Deeply in love and so happy.

I watched her leave, gently closing the door behind her, before shifting my gaze to the large portrait on the opposite side of the wall. It was a picture of my husband and I taken on the day we got betrothed.

What they hadn’t counted on was how greedy our parents could be.

Jungkook was the younger son. And his father had long written him off as unreliable. He was wild and headstrong. Had his own ideals and morals. Wouldn’t really bend to his father’s will. So his brother was the one who would be set to inherit the company.

And my father , with his billion dollar empire wasn’t going to give away his precious daughter and all of her inheritance to a paltry second son.

Jungkook’s brother had married my sister. And Jungkook had been forced to marry me. A comedy of errors , except it wasn’t really funny and no one was laughing.

I swallowed. That was seven months ago. The first few weeks had gone in stony silence and hushed whispers. I knew he was talking to my sister. Knew she was sobbing in despair on the other end. My sister and I had never gotten along. And now, she had a genuine reason to despise me.

Three months into marriage he had a small accident at the Manufacturing Unit.A small fall, not that far. Ten feet or so, but he’d crashed into a steel structure on his way down. He had a dislocated shoulder and some flesh wounds. Not that bad.

But my entire body had gone ice cold at the news, when i first heard it.

It was a brutal sort of realization.

That perhaps I wasn’t as indifferent to him as he was to me. Six weeks, with him had changed things. He didn’t talk much, other than the bare minimum but I didn’t hold it against him. I helped him anyway I could. Typed out emails for him. Helped him eat and change.

Hands brushing and time spent together meant tension. And a shift in the way he looked at me, sometimes. I noticed, wasn’t sure if I could act on it. But he was still my husband. And I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my life celibate.

So, even though it was so unlike me... I’d made the first move. Linked my fingers with his. Brushed my lips across his. A gesture that meant a hundred things. A touch that invited more. And he must’ve wanted it, at least physically. Because he indulged me. Gave me a glimpse of heaven on his bed.

And yet, six weeks of being as close as two humans could be didn’t change much.

We were strangers who slept together. Who appeared in public together. Who did everything our family expected of us. And I wasn’t sure how to bridge that awkward gap between us. Jungkook was a fiercely physical person. His free time was spent in the gym , or cycling or hiking.

I couldn’t walk across the room without having to grip the walls for support every few minutes.

Could anyone blame him for being bitter? For being distant? For not knowing what to do with me?

And in all this time , I’d only learnt a handful of things about my husband. How he felt on top of me. How he sounded when he came, how he looked eyebrows furrowed as he talked into his phone and of course, how little he cared about me.

Yes, we would have sex. Yes, he bought me a couple of gifts when he was overseas. But otherwise his heart belonged to my sister. It wasn’t something he hid.

As the days passed, I realized that it was time to keep myself safe. That I couldn’t show him all of me anymore. He was careful with me, guarded and secretive because he was smart. He didn’t want me to know anything about him.

There was a reason. There had to be.

So the best thing to do would be to do the same. Build that distance between us. This was going to crash and burn someday and I had to

And the past few weeks, he’d been busy with more deals. Some kind of MoU with some supplier had gone south and they were looking for different suppliers. Jungkook was busy. I hadn’t seen him in ten days.

And now apparently he had come home and left without so much as seeing me.

Sighing, I moved to the garden, walking slowly to the marble bench set under the large sweetgum tree. I settled down , sighing. I ran a palm over my belly, soft and hesitant.

I was two and half months along. It didn’t show...thanks to the oversized clothes I wore. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you could hide forever. I wasn’t sure why I started hiding it in the first place. It was just that.... I knew that no one would be happy for me. My family would be ecstatic but for the wrong reasons.

I could already imagine .

Finally. Now he can’t leave you.

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of it. At the thought of someone talking about my baby like some sort of handcuff to lock Jungkook in.

I would have to tell him. Of course. But I didn’t know when or how . I didn’t want to hide it from him. There was no point. But ... I wasn’t quite sure i wanted to see that look of helpless disappointment in his face.

The sound of his car drew me out of my reverie and I startled, glancing over at the wide driveway. I glanced at the time . It was a little past eleven in the morning. What was he doing here?

“Leah! Get inside!” Jungkook’s voice rang out and I jumped.

“Jungkook?” I stared as he all but jumped out of the car rushing to me.

“Come on.. get up.”

“What’s going on..?” I asked, heart pounding as he gripped my elbow, drawing me into his arms.

“Dad fucked up. Got mixed with some shady bastards and apparently, they’ve put a hit out on me and hyung.”

My heart dropped.

“What?!!” I choked out, stunned. “ Jungkook...” My fingers curled over his chest, clutching the

“Don’t worry... we know who it is and we have guys of our own. They’ll take care of it. No one comes for a Jeon and lives to tell the tale. I just wanted to make sure you stayed in. Don’t go anywhere. there are guards all over the place. but i want you to stay home. Okay? Just till this blows over?”

I flinched, legs aching fierce as he led me up the stairs and he stared at me, eyes dripping with worry. The look was so foreign....so unlike the indifference I was used to that I could only stare.

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently and I nodded quickly, hands curving over my stomach instinctively.

“You’ll stay here right? With me...?” I asked softly and Jungkook hesitated.

“I... I need to go check on Lisa.” He said stiltedly and I froze at my sister’s name.

“She’s with her husband, right?” I asked sharply, anger building out of pure fear. “ Why do you-”

“Don’t question me. Go in. Now.” He said quickly and I frowned.

“You don’t have to go there. She has a husband of her own.” I said quietly, voice shaking.

“I have to. I... I have to just go make sure she’s alright.” He snapped angrily and I curled my fingers into fists.

Apparently, even when there was a very real threat to our lives, he would rather risk my life and his than let go of his obsession for my sister. i wanted to vomit. My skin felt clammy and my heart raced. I imagined him doing this when we had a kid....risking our child because he can’t stop thinking of her.... And he would do it..... Of course he would.

“Then go.” i snapped, tears filling my eyes . I yanked my arm out of his, stumbling a bit.

Jungkook looked shocked.

“Leah...” He reached for me but I pulled back and away.

“Go to her and don’t you dare come back here.” I screamed. Jungkook stiffened.

“Leah... enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough . Of your dirty pining. Of you. She’s married for god’s sake. To your brother. They’re together. Its over and done with. Why can’t you just accept it and move on?!!” I choked out. My chest hurt.

“You knew I loved her when you married me.” He snapped back and I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes. And you knew I’d break someday. That I’d someday have enough of you treating me like I was disposable. Isn’t that why you kept at it for so long? You wanted me to be the one break things off right? So you could get out of your father’s anger...unscathed. Well, guess what. You got your wish.... I’m done!! “

He didn’t reply.

“Go inside. I have to go.” He said softly.

I watched as he turned on his heel and stalked back down the driveway.

Was it supposed to hurt this bad? My heart felt a bit like it was cleaving in two. Had I really just told him I had enough? What did that mean? Was I going to leave him? I felt my head spin , worry and fear laced with disbelief.

Someone was out to kill him? How could he be so flippant about it?

I shook my head. The Jeon’s were a weird bunch. Although they were one of the richest families in our society, they lacked any of the charming social graces that came with it. For years, everyone had kept them at arm’s length because while all other families had aristocratic roots and beginnings, the Jeon’s came from a background of mining iron ore and making steel : a rugged and dirty business.

The only reason my father had agreed to

And was I really going to leave him? where did I even begin? I couldn’t leave. I had no home to go to. My parents would take one look at me and send me back to Jungkook. I felt like a prize fool. I was stuck here. For eternity. That was all there was to it.

A decade ago, I’d had a future. But that evening on that mountain trail had changed my life forever. I was , for all intents and purposes disabled. I couldn’t just walk out of here and build a life for myself. I wouldn’t last a day.

I dragged myself to the living space, stopping when i saw how deserted the place looked.

There were usually people bustling about. Especially so close to lunch.

“Sana!!!” I called out, only to be met with the echoing silence of my own voice. And then a few seconds later she appeared ,

“Mrs. Jeon.... Is Mr. Jeon here?”

“He just left... Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where is everyone? Are all of you busy?” I asked nervously.

She bowed. “ Yes, ma’am.... The rest of us are cleaning out the pantry and Cook’s in the kitchen. Seul and Leejin are out in the backyard cleaning the statues near the koi pond. Mr. Jeon’s asked all the footmen and guards to stay around the perimeter. Will you need anything else?

“No... I’ll just rest till lunch.” I said gently, waving her off.

She left.

The eerie silence that followed told me there was nothing to do but embrace the loneliness and I hesitated, moving slowly to the window and peering out. I couldn’t see any of the guards either.

My fingers shook a little as I moved slowly to the entryway that led into the dining space. It was dark in here, the light from outside only illuminating the west wall which had large windows set in. I moved to the windows and stared out into the Jeon estate.

Although Jungkook was the younger brother, he had been taxed with maintaining and caring for the family estate. Not because his father trusted him but because the old man knew just how much Jungkook hated the place.

I played with my wedding ring as i remembered the countless times I’d watched the two of them fight, Jungkook coldly still while his father hurled abuses at him. Jeon Jaesook considered his son to be incompetent and disobedient, which made little to no sense to me.

As far as i knew Jungkook had helped increase production and had cut down operating costs significantly over the seven years that he’d been working as the managing Director at Jeon Steelworks.

But it was obvious the old man favored Jihyun, Jungkook’s older brother. Jihyun worked in the air conditioned offices located in Gangnam, the CEO taking care of all their sales and marketing while Jungkook , who had an actual degree in Business spent his days slaving away at the smelting Units, a job that was physically and mentally exhausting.

And while it always made my stomach twist, this unfair treatment he got subjected to, there wasn’t much i could do. My father had made it clear that he wouldn’t agree to the investment, unless both his daughters married the Jeon brothers. And Jungkook’s father had made it clear that if Jungkook didn’t agree , he would be out on the streets without a penny to his name.

My leg began aching and I turned back around ready to go settle into my workroom where I usually worked on my writing when I heard his footsteps. I glanced up, frowning.

Jungkook stood in the doorway staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say something.

When he didn’t, I sighed.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” I asked bitterly.

He sighed.

“I’m not going to cheat on you. “

I nodded.

“I suppose you want me to thank you for that?” I shook my head. “ You don’t have to keep your worthless vows. Go sleep with her. Why would it make a difference to me?”

He exhaled sharply.

“I thought you understood.” He said sharply.

“I did. I do.” I said curtly “ I understand that my parents screwed the two of you over. I understand that you had to do something you absolutely did not want to. But there’s something you need to understand too. Just because I’ve accepted this, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about my husband being in love with another woman, much less my own sister.”

Jungkook nodded.

“Right. Got it. “ He said curtly and I flinched when another muscle twitch told me I��d been standing for too long.

“I’m going to go lay down.”

“Do you need me to get you a heating pad? For the leg? Or send one of the girls to massage your legs?” He asked softly, stepping closer and lightly gripping my elbow when my knees buckled.

I didn’t have much choice than to grip his forearm, because the pain was intensifying from pins and needles to proper muscle spasms. Sweat began to bead on my upper lip and i felt just a little faint.

“Yes. “ I said , feeling pathetic. I should have used the crutches. It had been a bad day even when I woke up. I should have sensed it and taken the proper measures.

“Leah... Should I run a warm bath for you? “ Jungkook's lips brushed my ear when he leaned to hold my weight up and i stiffened.

“That won’t be necessary. I just need help back up to the bed, thank you.” I said shortly. He looked uncertain and shook his head.

“ okay, but I’ll get Sana to run you a warm bath and make you some willowbark Tea.” He said quietly, and when I stumbled a bit on the first step he swore.

“This isn’t going to work.... Come here.” He said gruffly and before I could protest he bent low, gripping the back of my knees and pulling me up into his arms.

i swallowed, head spinning as I cradled the curve of my lower belly.

Tell him... Tell him... Tell him...

I felt my head throb as I kept my arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

“I’m pregnant .” i blurted out.

Jungkook stumbled , nearly sending the both of us tumbling down the flight of stairs and i clung to him in terror. Okay, maybe the timing could have been better.

“What?” He looked ashen. Like he’d seen an actual ghost.

“Just thought you should know.” I muttered under my breath.

We reached the landing and he didn’t say anything, looking away from me, his jaw taut and lips set in a thin line. I felt my throat go sandpaper dry. He waited till we were safely in the confines of our bedroom, placing me down on the bed gently and moving to close the door and lock it.

I stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at his face.

“ Leah-”

“Its fine. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t know till a week ago myself.”

Silence.

“Have you told your parents?”

I exhaled sharply.

“No.”

“Mine?”

“No...”

“Then would you consider.... “ He trailed off and i finally stared at him.

“No.” I said softly.

He sighed.

“Alright. Should I book an appointment with Dr. Lee?”

I laughed.

“How very practical of you..” i said.

“What else do you expect from me..”

“Not even an ounce of support, that’s for sure.” I snapped and he growled.

“You want me to lie? Fine.. I’m happy!! So fucking happy that we’re bringing an innocent kid into our fucked up family. ” He shouted.

This was why I didn’t want to tell him, I thought bitterly.

“You’re the only one who’s fucked up, Jungkook. I’m perfectly fine with myself and my choices. I can give my baby all the stability they might ever need.”

“ That’s not hat I'm talking about. do you know what its like to grow up with parents who can’t stand each other?” Jungkook shouted.

I gaped at him. Can’t stand each other? Is that how he saw us?

“As long as you don’t walk out on us, we’ll be fine.” I muttered despondently.

“ Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to run away from my responsibilities. ” He said quietly.

I finally turned to look at him, placing both my hands on my stomach.

“Do you want me to leave you?” I asked honestly.” Have you ever thought about it?”

He didn’t say anything.

“So you have.” I smiled sadly. It wasn’t surprising but it did hurt.

“Of course I have. You’re Lisa’s sister and Lisa is my... “ He paused, shaking his head, “ But, I know you can’t. I don’t expect you to either.” He said gruffly, grabbing the intercom.

I watched as he called the housekeeper, firing off instruction for Sana and then to the cook to send some tea for me. He hung up and turned to me again.

“Lisa and I are going to go to Japan for a week. She has a conference there and I’m going to scout for locations just in case we open up a distribution office there.”

I turned away.

“ You don’t have to tell me all that. You didn’t before, i don’t want you to start now.” I said firmly.

He didn’t reply and i turned back to stare at the ceiling.

Jungkook hovered for a few seconds before moving closer to the bed and grabbing the comforter and a couple of pillows. I felt a lump in my throat as he carefully picked my leg up, placing the pillows underneath. i was almost numb from the thigh down.

i closed my eyes as he carefully pulled the comforter over my waist, folding it over my chest.

“Rest well.” He said quietly before walking away. i heard the door opening and then closing.

i waited till I heard his footsteps fades away before opening my eyes and staring at the ceiling.

I should probably put some paintings up there, I thought.

Author’s Note : This entire fic can be summed up as me not having any self control.

#jungkook arranged marriage #bts arranged marriage #bts fic #bts arranged marriage fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkok fanfics #bts famnfics #bts fanfics

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douxie-casperan · 3 years

Text

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

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edasnest · 3 years

Note

Might you have any Raeda headcanons you'd be willing to share?

Oh shit I didn’t see that you sent this to me until now oh man.

But you better believe I’ve got some Raeda headcanons >:D

[Spoilers for Eda’s Requiem and Knock Knock Knockin on Hooty’s Door! Also a little bit of a character study regarding those eps lol]

Raine is constantly in awe of Eda. Eda’s desire to learn every kind of magic and buck tradition and societal norms sometimes leaves them breathless. When they were young, Raine always admired Eda for the clever pranks she’d pull using different kinds of magic despite being in the potions track. They also admired Eda’s boldness when it came to standing up for herself and her sister.

Eda found Raine to be interesting considering they were in the bard track despite their stage fright, but once Eda watched them perform and saw how they’d lose themself in the music was, no pun intended, magical. They had a fierce grip on Eda’s heart and she didn’t know why; she was fascinated by Raine and made it her goal to be best friends with this oddly shy bard (which she achieved pretty quickly).

After Eda’s curse caused her to unintentionally disable her dad, she was terrified of what it would mean if she was caught off guard like that again. So she started putting up walls. No stressful situations, no hard conversations, no sudden bright lights or loud sounds that she wasn’t the cause of. If she could be in control of her surroundings, she could control the Owl Beast. The elixir she’d discovered that could keep the curse’s side effects at bay helped maintain her sanity and her chill demeanor, but Raine was able to tell she was always slightly on edge. Raine knew about the curse; after Eda had transformed on the Grudgby field the first time everyone had been talking about it, but they didn’t know the extent of it. Everyone just said she’d turned into a monster and then fled; but what kind of monster?? But every time Raine tried to get more information about it, Eda would brush it off and change the subject. It broke their heart watching Eda brush off something that was clearly bothering her, and eventually it all came to a head. She was lying more and more often to Raine and they just couldn’t take it anymore. What happened to their best friend??? Why would she lie to them????? It was maddening and all the frustration and aching in their heart became too much. They needed to focus on something other than Eda. They weren’t nearly as bold as Eda, even after all these years, so they joined the Bard Coven in order to start teaching and building a career for themself. They’d happily welcome Eda back if she’d just tell them what was going on. But it never happened. Burying themself into their work and then, eventually, into the BAtTs helped keep the heartache at bay, but only sometimes.

Eda and Raine caught glimpses of each other as the years passed. They’d spot one another in the market or Raine would see a flash of unmistakable ginger hair dashing around a corner; sometimes they’d hear Eda yelling at some Coven guards and quietly hope she’d make her escape. Eda would occasionally see posters advertising a performance starring Raine; she’d either buy a ticket or sneak in just to listen to them play again. She could never stay for very long though because listening to them play made her heart hurt so much she’d be at risk of turning into the Owl Beast. Raine grabbed one of Eda’s wanted posters and keeps it hidden under some other paperwork in their desk, pulling it out sometimes and going over every detail of the artist’s rendition of her. One day, a new wanted poster came out - this one with a weird skull dog now part of the image and the bounty having increased significantly. Raine would always smirk whenever they saw the new version, although they were alarmed the first time they saw her drawn with all-grey hair. When had that happened? They weren’t that old yet, right??

The day Eda saved the BAtTs and figured out Raine’s secret was maybe the best day Raine had had in years. Their best friend was talking to them again, helping them with their plot. Raine didn’t bother pushing Eda about the last 20 years; their last conversation proved enough that Eda didn’t like it when people pried. But Eda had become not just older, but so much more kind and open. To a degree that sort of shocked Raine. When they asked Eda if she had nothing to lose and Eda took their hand, it was like they’d gone back in time. As if they were both 20 again and daydreaming about a world they’d create for themselves where covens weren’t there to shackle witches down and stage fright didn’t exist; where Eda’s curse never happened and they could stay there on that hill forever.

Eda of course was warring with her own emotions during all of this; she was under the impression that everyone in her life was leaving her again. And not because she was pushing them away this time, but of their own volition. She got her big sister back only for her to go back home to their parents after just a few weeks. She overheard King talk about leaving to find his dad and her apprentice - the first person to ever break down all of Eda’s defenses and show her how to love again - was constantly working on ways to go back to her own home. Eda would be left with Hooty and Owlbert and absolutely nobody else and that hurt so much more than she cared to admit. So when Raine showed up in the town square with their BAtT mask on, using their magic to turn some coven guards into bumbling fools, Eda was a little shell-shocked. The first person to leave her of their own volition was right there in front of her and needed help. So she helped them. And when she became invested in their plots to free wild witches, she felt like she was a teenager again, plotting out pranks with Raine in her secret shortcuts room at Hexside, blushing at every interaction they had because even after all this time, Raine was still Raine. Her Rainstorm. It was like she was starting over, like the last 20 years had faded away, except they hadn’t. Because Luz and King were competing in a race that she needed to be there for. Her past and her present were all different types of painful but finding Raine like this again gave her so much hope! Until she realized she wouldn’t see the end of that race, not if it meant stopping Belos. And she was ready for that, ready for the pain to just stop already, but Raine wouldn’t let her.

Losing Raine again was so much worse the second time. But what they said stayed with her and Eda needed to get back to King and Luz. So when she got back and discovered they’d lost, of course her first thought was to help them. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d just lost. And when King announced that he wasn’t leaving at all, he was legally changing his name? She was “stuck” with him forever? That was too much and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone wasn’t leaving her. In fact he was legally binding himself to her. No one was leaving, at least not any time soon. Eda definitely still cried more that night after King and Luz had gone to bed.

In the future, Eda and Raine agree to start from scratch: Eda explains the curse to them in detail, all the things she’s learned about it over the years and specifically with Luz and King and Hooty’s help. She explains that Lilith was the one that gave it to her to begin with and why (Raine is appalled like???? Raine specifically worked with Lilith in that last year before they had been made head of the Bard Coven?? And Lilith showed maybe irritation at best at the mention of Eda, so like?? What the fuck???). Eda also explains how she’s come to accept the curse as something that’s part of her and the history the Owl Beast has that she got a glimpse of which is super intriguing to Raine. Also Harpy Eda was a thing which was maybe the most surprising part of it all.

Raine in the meantime tells Eda about their time working their way up the ranks of the Bard Coven, how they met each of the BAtTs and recruited them, the façade they had to maintain to stay on track to become the head of the Bard Coven (something that greatly impressed Eda given Raine’s history with being an awkward actor).

Eda introduces Raine to Luz and King to which both of them start shooting rapidfire questions at them and overwhelm them pretty quickly. Eda has to shoo the two away before Raine just bursts out laughing, saying something about how they’re definitely Eda’s kids (all of them blush while Raine is laughing). Luz is just as fascinated with Raine’s Bard magic as Eda was when they first met and the similarities between the two are striking. Raine tells Eda as much later on and Eda begins gushing about what a great apprentice Luz is and everything she’s done during her time on the Boiling Isles.

They fall easily back into dating once they reconnect properly and everything’s calmed down a little - Raine will still be humming a piece they’re working on and suddenly grab Eda and begin dancing to the tune, Eda laughing the whole time and making their heart soar. Eda will still play with Raine’s earring when they’re cuddled up together just chatting. Raine will start asking Eda again for her opinion on musical pieces they’re working on and Eda will make suggestions along with some jokes or snide commentary. They both still love watching the clouds overhead on their hill, sometimes playing music, sometimes just holding hands.

Raine loves watching Eda interact with Luz and King. They love watching how easily Eda loves them and how much she’s changed since they first broke up. Once they’re alone together, in a moment total admiration for how far they’ve come, Raine tells Eda they love her. Eda immediately kisses them and starts crying, repeating Raine’s words back to them and mumbling about how she’ll never let Raine leave ever again.

A canon Non-binary love interest to a main character that uses They/Them pronouns??? In my kids cartoon???? It’s more likely than you think.

Anyways I fucking love Raine and I love how much Eda and Raine love each other and I can’t wait to see what ends up happening with Them™️

#180 degree head tilt (ask tag)#l-gionaire #toh headcanons #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthorne #raine whispers #raeda #toh spoilers #hey what’s up it’s been five million years since I’ve posted any headcanons to this blog huh?#thank you l-egionaire for carrying the weight of the fandom on your back with your prompts

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years

Text

Angel’s Touch (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my long overdue contribution to @rosepetals-flyingbirds‘ challenge. I’m sorry it took me so long, babe 💖 I’ve been going through a lot lately (including the loss of a loved one) and I wasn’t in the mood to write 😔

The prompt, as usual, is in bold.

Thanks to the lovely @geekandbooknerd for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

The gif belongs to @therealcalicali 💐

Summary: Ivar's always been very secretive when it comes to his legs. How is he going to react when you tell him you want to know all of him?

Warnings: angst; fluff at the end; Ivar’s insecurities; soft and vulnerable Ivar.

Words: 4600

"I'm coming!" you shout enthusiastically, wrapping a soft towel around your body before closing the bathroom door behind you.

Wincing at your words, Ivar hastily hides his legs under the comforter. "That was a close one…", he mumbles while breathing a sigh of relief. Deep down, he knows he's not doing the right thing. Avoiding the problem will not make it go away.

He can't help himself, though. He still has nightmares about that awful night with Margrethe. It was years ago, yet memories of her disgusted look as well as her eyes full of pity still haunt his nights, vivid and humiliating.

He doesn't want to go through that again. It would be unbearable and painful, much worse than the dull ache he's used to enduring every day. No, he definitely can't relive it. Shuddering at this thought, Ivar squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists tight.

He won't allow it. He can't. Because he's not sure he can get over it again. After Margrethe, he had been broken – more broken than his broken bones – for so long. It had taken him years of therapy to stop being disgusted by himself, to stop hating himself for what he was. A freak. It had taken him years to endure looking at himself in a mirror. And it had taken him years to imagine sharing a bed with a woman again.

Oh, of course, he had fucked every so often. He needed it after the complete fiasco with Margrethe. He had to prove himself that he could… But it had always been in a hurry, and with random, uninteresting women. Till you…

You. You're not random, and definitely not uninteresting. You're beautiful and smart, patient and funny, warmhearted and caring but never overbearing. You're… perfect, he thinks, and it scares him as much as it makes him shiver with excitement. On top of that, so far you don't seem bothered by his legs and he wants to keep it that way.

His legs. His fucking legs. The averted elephant in the room. Well, averted… more or less. Because if you've never seen them, you know the braces, the crutches, the uneven gait and he's pretty sure you've figured out his pain. But you two never talk about them. He knows that you understood from the beginning that they were, they are a major issue for him. You're smart enough for that.

Yet, you never bring them up and he couldn't be more grateful. He's very aware that he can't keep going like this for long. But he doesn't know how to address what is, to him, a huge matter of concern. He's afraid you'll go away as soon as you realize how damaged his legs are, how crippled he really is. He doesn't want to lose you. He can't. That would be insufferable. And he knows exactly why. It's not just that he likes you, that sex is great, and that you're fun to be around, no… He's helplessly falling in love with you. It may be terrifying, but it's no less true.

That's why he does what he does. That's why he's always hurrying up, hiding, avoiding. It doesn't matter if it leads sometimes to awkward situations. It doesn't matter if you're not fooled. All that matters is that you don't see his legs; not for a long time anyway; and most preferably never.

Inhaling deeply, Ivar slips his hands under the comforter, rubs his scrawny, bony, twisted thighs, feeling their scarred skin and grunting in disgust. He knows he's wrong, he knows he's not going anywhere, but he can't help. He can't risk losing you.

***

More sad than irritated, you hardly stifle a sigh as you enter the room. Once again, Ivar is unsurprisingly already in bed, his fluffy comforter keeping his legs out of sight.

His legs… A fucking huge elephant in the room… It's amazing – not in a good way – how something that's never addressed can take up so much space.

The truth is, you know a lot about them. Being a son of Ragnar, the man who rules Scandinavia – at least economically but surely politically too, with friends in the right places and enough money to corrupt them – didn't allow Ivar to grow up in the shadow. Ivar's life therefore has always been on display, making headlines more often than not. So you know about his disease and its inherent struggles, about the surgeries and about the pain – well, now you even witness it sometimes, and the way he always tries to hide it is heartwrenching.

You know more than you'd like to since you even know about his supposed failing sex life, that bitch whose name you've long forgotten having told her story to everyone around. It doesn't matter though, as you can testify that Ivar's cock is far from dysfunctional.

Anyway, if you know a lot – truths or lies – about his condition and about his legs, you don't know them. And you're aware it has to change. You just don't know how. You can't be too straightforward or Ivar will close up on you. Yet you can't let things go on like this for too long, because it's unhealthy. And an unhealthy relationship with Ivar is the last thing you want, both for his and your sake.

Somehow always in your mind, his legs make things awkward. Sex is great, but could even be better, for they prevent you from being spontaneous. The last thing you want is to make Ivar, the man you're falling in love with, uncomfortable. So, you don't speak about them because you can feel he doesn't want to speak about them. You don't look at them because his tight jaw is unmistakable each time your eyes wander to his lower body. You do your best never to touch them, which isn't easy when you share his bed. In short, most of the time you act as if they don't exist. And this has got to stop.

You can't let this unspoken thing continue to grow between the two of you or it will end up becoming a problem that will eat you up, you do know it with utmost certainty. You won't allow it. You can't. Ivar is important to you, to say the least, and you're pretty sure he reciprocates your feelings. You see it in his huge blue eyes that sparkle each time he looks at you; you hear it in the softness of his tone each time he talks to you.

So yeah, the whole situation annoys you. It doesn't mean that his legs annoy you. They don't. You won't lie, you're a little nervous about them. How could you not, given how sensitive a subject they are? Will you say the right thing? Do the right thing? Will you hurt Ivar unwillingly? Just thinking about it, about them, makes you feel like you're walking on eggshells. Ivar is being very touchy when it comes to them, to those-legs-we-mustn't-talk-about, it seems to you that the slightest word could ruin everything. And you don't want that. Gods, you don't. Yet, you're not sure how to handle well something that important.

That's the point. His legs are that important. They shouldn't be. They shouldn't matter. They don't matter. Of course, you're not stupid. Ivar has a disability, there's no denying it. But it doesn't define him, right? What defines him is his outstanding intelligence, his sharp mind, and his deadpan, ironic humour. And well, if you're being honest, his ridiculous handsomeness too… It might sound shallow, but… who cares?

Anyway, enough is enough. Things must change and you're sure Ivar won't be the one initiating the change. It leaves you no choice, you know it. Your heart hammering in your chest, you rub your sweaty palms together before inhaling deeply. That's it. Let it be done. The sooner the better.

***

"Are you not coming?" Ivar's blue eyes are scrutinizing you from under furrowed brows as you scrabble around in your small overnight bag, as an idea has just popped into your head.

Glancing at him over your shoulder, you barely nod while swallowing the lump in your throat. "Of course I am, give me a minute." You reply after a while, sounding more confident than you feel. But you know it's a good idea. It could be the first step. It could work. It has to work.

Your hands are shaking but your heart is filled with hope when you eventually find what you were looking for. "Here it is.", you mutter, a tentative smile playing on your lips as you turn towards your lover, who looks at the silk scarf in your hand with a mischievous grin.

"What is it on your naughty mind?" He asks playfully, tilting his head in his very own way, the one that melts your heart each and every time. "You want to blindfold me, Y/N?" His low, deep voice sends shivers down your spine. "Or maybe you'd rather be blindfolded? It's up to you, I'm totally on board with either one." He swallows heavily, and when he licks his upper lip and then the lower in a slow-moving and sensual motion, a familiar warmth spreads in your lower belly.

Of course, he had to misread the situation. And you, you're so easily, pathetically flustered! Closing your eyes to push away any distracting thoughts, you inhale deeply while just shaking your head no as you don't trust yourself to speak right now.

Raising a brow, Ivar gives you a questioning look. "So, what is it about, then?" His tone is more serious now, you can almost feel a hint of uneasiness in his voice as if a part of his brain already suspects what's in your mind.

"Actually, I want to be blindfolded, but not to do what you're thinking about." You explain, shyly lowering your gaze. "I'd like to try something." You speak in a whisper but with honesty, fidgeting with the little silver Mjölnir – a gift from Ivar – you wear around your neck. "If it's okay with you." You add, your shaky voice giving away your nervousness.

Confused, Ivar looks at you with knitted brows. Since you don't want to explain further – because you're sure that if you told him of your plan, he would deny you – you just climb on the bed, kneel next to him and bring the scarf to your face, wrapping it around your head and over your eyes before tying it in the back with a tight knot.

Being blinded like that, even if it's of your own volition, is quite unsettling, you must say. You feel weirdly exposed, vulnerable, in your tiny shorts and a tank top and you have to inhale and exhale slowly several times in order to calm your nerves.

Uncertain, Ivar keeps quiet, his breathing just a little bit shorter than usual. "Y/N?" His hesitant voice startles you and you swallow, biting your inner cheek.

You know you have to take action, the sooner the better. So you fumble blindly on the bed and as you find Ivar's hand, you bring it to your mouth, kissing each knuckle one after the other while your free hand slips under the comforter.

His breath hitches, yet Ivar doesn't react, doesn't stop you, as you slowly lift the comforter, pulling it away. But when your fingers graze what you think is his thigh, he grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it.

"What…" Ivar stutters, his grip tight enough to bruise your delicate skin, "… What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice, barely audible, is nothing more than a shaky whisper that wrings your heart.

Yet, you won't back down. "Let me, Ivar, please…" You beg softly, but to no avail. Ivar rushes his words, panic coursing through his veins. "Stop Y/N! Don't, please don't, I… They are… They are ugly. I… I can't." That's it. He can't. Just thinking of you exposing his disgusting legs, he feels like throwing up. He can't.

Hearing your lover so upset, and maybe even close to tears, is heartbreaking. Raising your free hand, you find his arm, then his shoulder, his neck, and finally his face, which you cup tenderly.

"You do know I won't see them, don't you?" You ask carefully, peppering light kisses along his jaw while trying to slow down the frantic pace of your own heart.

Ivar doesn't miss a beat, pushing you away gently but very firmly. "You don't need your sight to feel how hideous they are." Almost convinced to give up by his broken voice, you struggle to keep in mind that postponing the problem can't be a solution.

"That's what you think about them, how you see them, Ivar, that's not what they are." Your tone soft and soothing, you're trying to convey how much you care. "And it's certainly not how I'm going to see or to feel them."

"How would you know?" You can tell that he shifts in the bed to sit upright, his back against the headboard. His fingers still around your wrist, you have to stifle a hiss of pain when he changes position.

"Because they are a part of you. Nothing from you, or about you, can be ugly." You wince, realizing that you've just opened up to him more than you would have liked. But well, speaking your mind isn't a bad thing, right?

As Ivar, dumbstruck, keeps quiet, you decide to strike the iron while it's hot. Once again finding his cheek, your thumb lightly strokes it while you speak. "Let me touch them, Ivar…"

You know him well enough to be sure that right now, a storm is clouding his features. But as his breathing starts to quicken and as his grip on your wrist loosens, you understand that he's more frightened than angry. "Please…" You plead, aiming blindly a reassuring smile in his direction.

"But… Wh… Why?" He's never felt so scared, not even with Margrethe. Even if the rational part of him knows you're right, he won't give up yet, not without fighting. "Why… Why does it have to be? You don't need to touch those fucking…", swallowing, he closes his eyes briefly, "… you don't need to touch my legs, Y/N. You don't. We could just go on like this, as we have done up to now. Believe me, it will be better like that."

"No, it won't." You sigh, shaking your head. Ivar's distress may break your heart, yet you're more and more convinced that this is the right thing to do. "Let me touch them, Ivar, please…" You simply repeat, your free hand still on his cheek.

"Why… Why is it so important to you?" As soon as the words escape his lips, he regrets them, wishes he could take them back. He should have said no. Why didn't he say no? Slapping himself internally, he rolls his eyes, annoyed as much by his own stupidity as by your stubbornness.

You answer in a sweet whisper, placing your hand on his chest. He's sure you can feel the crazy thumping of his heart under your palm. "Because your legs are a part of you, and I want to know everything about you. Will you let me, Ivar?"

Ivar, deeply moved by your words, is eager to believe them. But on the other hand, it's so… frightening; unsettling. Not used to being so vulnerable in front of someone, he feels like he's being ripped apart, and gods, he hates it! "I… I don't know… I'm… not sure…" He eventually stammers almost unwillingly, more or less denying you once more, yet his resolution starts to falter, and he knows you can hear it.

Even more surprising, it's as if his body betrayed him, his fingers finally releasing your wrist. As you gasp, astonished and pleased, he ponders for a few moments before deciding – if deciding something against what seems to be your own will is even a thing – he won't stop you. He knows he could, but he also knows you're right. So, conflicted and petrified with fear, he just waves his hand, wiggling his fingers, and mumbles under his breath a faint "go ahead" that you almost miss.

"Is that a 'yes', Ivar?" Full of hope and with what you're sure is a beaming smile on your lips, you intertwine your fidgeting fingers and put your hands on your lap, anxiously awaiting his reply.

His jaw clenched, Ivar just nods. At first, he doesn't realize that you can't see him. As the silence drags on, he furrows his brows, confused, before breathing a hesitant answer. "Yeahhh…" Digging his fingernails into his palms, he waits for your next move, almost like someone awaiting a death sentence.

Sensing his anxiousness, you raise your hands and then move them very slowly, willing to give Ivar time to stop you if he needs to. Since he doesn't utter a word nor grab your wrists, you keep going, your fingers grazing what surely is his lower belly before finding the hem of his cotton boxer shorts.

Intensely aware of the importance of the moment, you can't help but swallow loudly, your stomach tied in knots. You started all this, and even if you're still not sure if it's the right time – will there ever be a right time for this? – you have to keep going. But you're scared. What if it'll push Ivar over the edge? What if it is too much for him? What if you won't handle this as well as you think you will? You don't want to lose him. Your mind suddenly filled with doubts, you do the only thing you can think of, and send a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they can help the two of you.

Holding his breath, Ivar looks at your hands as if he was hypnotized. His eyes wide open, he can't move, can't speak, utterly terrified of what is to come. He knows he should trust you. Maybe he does. But he doesn't trust himself. No, that's not true. Most of the time, Ivar doesn't lack self-confidence. He knows his worth. He's aware of the strength of his intelligence, his cunning. He knows about his good looks – even if they're quite useless; or about his highly appreciated caustic humour. And as he's no fool, he knows that being a Ragnarsson – name, wealth, all the stuff – is a major asset. Yet, when it comes to his legs, he's nothing more than a frightened little boy, so anxious that he's ready to fall apart. Feeling ashamed, self-conscious, and helpless, he's wondering how much tenser he can become until he physically shatters. Conflicted, he wants you to stop as well as he wants you to keep going. This has to be done. This should never be done. He's in love with you. You will never love him. You won't hurt him. He'll be hurt once again. Hectic, opposing thoughts are constantly fighting in his mind, leaving him frozen in fear and panicked. So, since he can't think straight, he does the only thing he can think of and sends a silent prayer to the gods. May they help him; help you.

Uselessly closing your eyes behind the blindfold, you gather your strength. Ivar didn't stop you. That's good. That means he wants you to do it, right? Inhaling deeply, you try to stop the shaking in your hands, and then, slightly leaning forward, you let your fingertips run over his thighs, barely touching them. You forget how to breathe and Ivar is so still, so quiet, you think he's not breathing either.

As you become bolder, you place the flat of your hands on his legs, careful not to apply any pressure. Under your palms, you can feel every bump, every scar, every broken bone. Your movements intentionally agonizingly slow, your hands move down to his protruding knee caps before finding his atrophied calves, their wasted muscles evident to the touch. You can't think how painful walking, or even just standing up, must be. The thought spreads a dull ache in your chest, but you keep your face emotionless, aware that if you can't see him, Ivar can see you. Rather than dwelling on it, you continue exploring, and when your fingers brush against the sole of one of his misshaped, scrawny feet, Ivar flinches. "Sorry," you mumble, "I didn't know you were ticklish." Since Ivar doesn't react, you're not sure he heard you and decide to slowly move your hands up his legs, placing them back on his bony thighs.

Keeping his eyes on you the whole time, Ivar struggles to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage. He's surprised, he must say. He expected to see disgust or pity on your face, but there's none of that. Of course, he can't see your eyes, but a small smile never leaves your lips. Could it be that you're not disgusted? In any case, you don't seem troubled by what you're feeling. Maybe you're hiding it, but if so, you're hiding it well. He's also surprised because he expected to hate every moment of the process. Himself, he's all the time trying to avoid touching his legs. He hates PT sessions and doctor's appointments with a passion for a reason. But your touch is… enjoyable if he can push away all his doubts and his awful thoughts. It strikes him all of a sudden: it's probably the first time someone touches his legs for no reason at all. They were regularly massaged, checked for injuries, examined, palpated; of course, they were. But there was always a medical reason. Even when his mother touched them, it was to ease the pain. But you… you decided to touch his ugly limbs just because you wanted to. And just now, he realizes how much he missed that. Can he really miss something he's never known? He's not sure, but here he is, enjoying your featherlike touch, craving it, not wanting it to stop. Yes, he likes it; needs it. But what if, after tonight, you don't want to touch them again? He wouldn't blame you, who would want to touch such repulsive things? The thought brings bile to his throat and he knows it won't stop plaguing his mind. So he has to know, whatever it takes. Moving for the first time, he runs a trembling hand through his hair and summons all his courage.

"You… you didn't say a word." His quivering voice startles you, making your heart swell with sadness. You don't need your eyes to know that Ivar is filled with dread. The need to reassure him compels you to blindly fumble on the bed until you find his hand, which you grasp between yours. "What do you want me to say?" You ask cautiously, your thumb lightly stroking his knuckles.

You can feel Ivar stiffening, his fingernails probably bruising your palms as he lets out a shuddering breath. "I…" He stops to swallow. "The… truth, Y/N. Go ahead, speak your mind. You… you touched…" He stutters, and you're willing to bet his eyes are tightly shut, his tone giving away his level of anxiety. "… you touched them. My legs, I mean. I know… I know how they feel, ugly and disgusting… no need to sugarcoat your thoughts… I… I can handle the truth…" His voice cracks at the end, contradicting his words.

Releasing his hand, you graze his right thigh with gentle fingers. "No, Ivar", you speak softly yet firmly, "that's not how they feel, at least not to me." You know you have to be honest, you can't just say nonsensical, lovey-dovey things, he won't buy it. "I won't tell you they feel beautiful. They don't." Choosing your words carefully, you let your pointer finger follow a massive scar from his mid-thigh to his knee. "They feel different, and yes, you can feel the scars. It must have been painful, it's probably still is. But I promise you, they're not disgusting. They're your legs. They say a lot, Ivar. They're telling a story, your story. That's why I wanted to know them because as I said earlier, I want to know all about you. And they are part of you. I do think they finally deserve to be cared about, to be loved. Let me love them…" You whisper the last words, feeling vulnerable. 'Let me love you…' is what you want to add, but you know you can't, not yet, so instead you lean forward, your lips brushing and then kissing his thigh.

Something between a whine and a choked sob escapes his lips and you can hear his breath hitch as his hand gets up close to your neck. "Did I hurt you?" You ask with concern, frowning behind the blindfold.

Ivar can't help but smile, even if you can't see it. "No!" he replies quickly, his hand now on the back of your head. "I wasn't expecting that, the kiss I mean, but I… liked it." He explains shyly, surprised by his own words. "Actually, I loved it." He's not lying. He loved the kiss, he loved your words; it's as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted off of him. Part of him tells him not to believe everything you said, but he decides not to. He didn't hear any malice or mischief in your voice. He knows you were being genuine. That's why, choosing to chase the disbelief away, he decides to trust you completely. And that's why, suddenly, without warning, he pulls off the blindfold.

"What are you doing, Ivar?" You squeak, immediately closing your eyes and picking up the comforter. But as you intend to cover his legs, Ivar grabs your wrists with both hands. "Just leave it where it is." He retorts before letting out a heavy sigh. "And open your eyes."

You do as you're told, but keep your eyes on his face. There are tears in his eyes and a whirlwind of emotions. "Just look at them, Y/N." He almost commands you, but you know that's a way to hide his true feelings behind bravado.

Blinking a few times and scrunching your face, you tilt your head to the side, scrutinizing him. "Are you sure?"

Your lover just shrugs, biting his lower lip. "Will I ever be?" Taking a deep breath, he adds in a murmur. "But I trust you."

***

Later that night, as you're sound asleep, your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, Ivar can't get sleep, amazed that you didn't run away. He keeps replaying what you did when you saw his legs. You had just smiled. And kissed them one more time. And then thanked him for trusting you, for allowing you to love them. Moved and overwhelmed, he could see the matching tears in your eyes, but no sadness on your face. What he saw instead was relief, and care, and… love?

Kissing your head, he mumbles. "It is I who should be thanking you. I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you, but whatever it was, I'm glad. If angels are real, you're mine. I won't let you go, Y/N, never ever."

"I love you…" He finally whispers, taking advantage of your slumber. Well, little does he know you're awake but staying perfectly still. You know you weren't meant to hear those three words, not yet. And it doesn't matter. You can wait. You and Ivar have a lifetime to love each other.

All of him. All of you.

🛡⚔️🛡

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