#and i don't know how to reach out to individuals in a non awkward way.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queerponcho · 10 months ago

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Transfixed | part 3

previous part | part 4

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: AHHH- Thank you all so much for reblogging, liking and commenting on my past chapters!!! I just reached 50 reblogs and it honestly means the world that people are embracing a newbie like me (✿◠‿◠)

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: Steven and Marc have a little...carfuffle when Jake finally lets them front again, after days of taking over. The date plans are set and both parties eager to meet soon but are we surprised when things don't go as planned..?

2,200 words

Steven at home

‘I can’t believe this- how does this even happen Steven?’

‘Mate, I don't know! You were there weren’t you? You know how it happened…’

‘So you’re tellin’ me that any pretty girl can just sit there and you will literally tell them all about our personal business???'

‘How else was I supposed to find out about Jake huh?? Say that he’s my identical twin brother and then have to explain myself-'

‘Steven you would never have had to explain anything! Because this was supposed to be ONE conversation over a non-committal coffee- not a damn first date.’ Marc replies sternly. He looks at Steven in the glass of the fishtank and notices him looking deflated and guilty. Great- now he feels guilty for making Steven feel guilty. ‘I-I am sorry man, I shouldn't've gotten this mad, you know how I am about…personal stuff.’ Marc says sincerely. He really has been trying to be better at communicating, it’s been a feat to get here but he would do anything to make Steven's life easier. ‘It’s alright Marc..you’re right I should call off the date’ Steven says while looking at his hands, remembering your touch on his shoulder. The way you made him trust you so easily, even though he barely knew you. How desperately he wanted to get to know you an- ‘Steven, you know we share a brain right?’ Marc says trying to stop Steven from swooning any further. ‘Look- clearly you like her and she seems to like you as well, so who says this won’t turn out well?’ ‘well- you know: “we share a brain”’ Steven says, mocking Marc's previous comment. ‘Okay okay I get it- I messed up. I’m sorry. There, will you let me help you now?’ Marc looks at Steven expectantly.

Days passed since they had returned home after you left them in the cafe. Steven was pretty sure Jake had taken over after leaving the coffee-shop but he was finally fronting again after a few days. Steven squints his eyes at Marc but relents ‘alright fine, I don’t know what to text her…I think she might be waiting for me to initiate conversation…’ ‘You realise we wouldn't have this issue if I had fronted and you wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love like a desperate teen-boy’ ‘I thought you said you lay off with the mean comments! And i am NOT in love-’

‘yeahyeah, you’ve never had a girlfriend have you? You must be reeaaally nervous…’ he adds in a singsong voice. Marc won’t let up, he’s being dragged into this mess so he might as well have a bit of fun. ‘Okay now I know you’re just takin’ the piss- are you gonna help me or not?’ Steven says fully aware of his embarrassing situation. ‘Alright, you text and I tell ya how to start, alright?’

‘Oh bollocks- uum okok I-I can do this..’ Steven is fronting now sitting on the office-chair and stares at his phone screen, starting with a simple introduction.

steven is typing...

‘Hiya- it’s me Steven!’

He had written, deleted and rewritten the message about six times before finally sending it.

You answered very quickly, you’d been waiting for him to text since you got home a few days ago. Processing everything that happened between you and steven- and well, Jake.

‘hi:) glad to hear from you. I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly, but it was all a bit much to process and i was running super late for work haha…i hope you understand’

‘Of course luv. If you’ve got any questions you can always ask, I hope you know that.’

‘i do’

‘i was actually hoping to ask you some questions on that date you promised me;)’

You seemed a bit more forward over text and Steven did not mind it one bit, since it was just the push he needed.

‘Right! I thought we could meet friday? There's this great vegan restaurant, I'd love to take you there?’

‘sounds great! could you pass me the address of the place?’

‘No need luv- I’ll pick you up.’

‘oh!’

‘that works too’

You hadn’t realised the age gap until this moment. They were probably around 10 years older than you with you being in your mid-twenties. You did notice the wrinkles and silver strands when you first saw Jake but hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was about a decade older than you. Just now as he offered to pick you up did you realise the generational difference. You didn’t have an issue with it, you’ve always liked your partners to be a bit older so this definitely wasn’t a turnoff. If anything it only amplified your attraction.

‘I’d love your address’

‘Whenever you get the chance to send it:)’

‘right! sending it now…’

You send him your address.

‘Thanks luv. Alright, I’ll see you Friday at 7pm then?’

‘yes! see you tomorrow steven<3’

He sat back, setting his phone on the sink. ‘Alright there's your date’

‘Thanks for taking over, Marc- couldn’t have done it alone’

‘Relax Steven- this was just texting. But you realise I can’t just take over during the date, right?’

‘Of course I know that…doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand by just in case…’

‘So- wait, what are we gonna do with Jake's notebook?’

‘I uuhm couldn't find anything besides drawings and sketches of her…I mean at least we had those, otherwise we would’ve never found out about him loaning that book.’

‘By the way…we know Jake likes her as well, by getting to know her better, we have a chance of actually luring Jake out-’

‘That might be true but that's not our goal! I- I actually like her…she might become my first proper girlfriend, I don't wanna mess this up.’ Steven is adamant on getting to know you, very hopeful of the connection he feels towards you. An almost magnetic pull he felt between you, one he has never felt with anyone before.

Marc chuckles at the reminder but reassures Steven, ‘And we won't, I promise, you will do fine Steven’

Friday

It’s 4 am. You’ve been trying to sleep for the past four hours but the thought of getting to see Steven and possibly Jake later today was not letting you relax. If anything it was causing a very persistent tension…in places you really dont wanna delve into. In fact, you’re trying really hard not to think about that tension, which might be the exact reason as to why you can’t seem to find your way to a peaceful slumber. You try to distract yourself by thinking of how this all even started. The way Jake intrigued you since the beginning and had you speechless every time he appeared. And you think about steven- steven who's the polar opposite to jake and is this shy sweetheart that can’t seem to even look you in the eyes but somehow managed to bluntly ask you out on a date. You keep thinking about them and their differences and analyse them, not noticing your eyes slowly shutting closed and your thoughts slowly forming into vivid dreams based on your memories with the boys…you sit up in your bed abruptly remembering your texts with steven. Realising you had shared your private address with a fucking stranger…you hold your head in your hands and push your palms into your eye-sockets trying to calm down. You don't actually know shit about these men…you really should’ve told your friends about them cuz literally no one knows about these encounters. But truly it was all so bizarre and absurd that you really didn’t want your friends to spoil it for you by using anything close to logic or realism. To maybe argue that they could have anything untoward in mind with you.

You lay back down and finally feel a wave of exhaustion hit you. You want to believe that they actually maybe even like you…of course there is a possibility that Steven only asked you out to find out more about Jake. oh and marc, was it? You wonder what he might be like and if he's anything like his alters. You turn from your clock having hit 5am and finally force yourself into sleep.

You wake up to your alarm blaring and prepare yourself for work. You start the day groggy and tired due to only sleeping four hours. But just the thought of your date tonight has you motivated enough to hurry up and catch the next bus.

Moonboys POV

Marc woke up around noonish since Steven took forever to finally fall asleep. Lately he’d been better but last night he was as jittery as a six year old the night before christmas. Currently standing in the kitchen brewing himself a cup of black coffee and prepping his mug with two brown sugars. ‘So loverboy, what are you planning for tonight?’ He says while wearing an amused smirk on his face.

‘Okay well first off, cool it with the nicknames yeah? And secondly you literally texted it for me yesterday. We are goin’ to my favourite restaurant.’ Steven replies proudly while also ashamed for not even having the balls to text you himself. ‘About that…I don’t think that place is open right now- in fact I think all the restaurants are closed today, no?’ Marc remarks and pours himself the long awaited bitter brew. ‘Wha-Whatareyousayin mate??’

‘Well’ He clears his throat ‘when I woke up I saw today's date and remembered that today is that weird holiday, the only thing open are convenience stores and the 24-hour Tesco’ he says, his voice laced in an amused tone and takes a slow sip of his sweetened coffee. ‘Bollocks- what am I gonna do?...I could cook?’ ‘Steven’ ‘No, I-i can't even make a- a salad! How the hell am i supposed to cook for her if I can't cook marc?!’ he says panicked ‘Steven’ marc sternly interrupts, carefully putting his half empty mug on the counter

‘I can help you. I may not be amazing at it but I can remember a few things from- from what our dad taught us.’ Marc and Steven rarely talked about their past but recently they were kinda forced to deal with it. Just the fact that they, let alone Marc, can mention anything from that time so casually is kind of a huge step for them.

Marc and Steven spend the rest of the day planning, buying and preparing the food for the date. The time comes when Steven has to take over the body to get ready to pick you up. He finds a shirt in the back of his closet- same oversized cut as his others but a bit less casual and more sleek looking than the usual shirts he wears. His hair is as unruly and fluffy as usual despite Marc insisting on sleeking it back. He convinces him to use some curling cream he had found in the back of the bathroom drawer.

Steven applies it sceptically, coming to the conclusion that it does look pretty good. He makes his way to your address making sure to ring on the right door. Basically buzzing from anxiety, Marc is doing everything to keep him calm and rehearse with him what he was gonna do and say when you ringed him in and opened your door, knowing full well, that all the preparation would fly out the window when he actually met you…Jake is silently watching this all transpire and cant help but be amused at all this, not admitting that he was actually a bit nervous himself.

You came back from work tired BUT extremely excited to get ready. You had to stay a bit longer than anticipated and thus only had about one hour to get ready. Hopping in the shower as quickly as possible you try to calm down under the warm streams of water hitting your body, melting all the tension out of your back, shoulders and sore legs. Work had been exhausting and this shower was proving to get difficult to leave. But the alarm you had set to remind yourself of the time, successfully cut your relaxation short. You quickly exited your shower wrapping your body in a fluffy white towel. Wiping the steamy mirror to see your reflection more clearly, you start getting ready. Adding whatever products you use to your hair and applying sweet smelling lotion to your body, basically doing any- and everything to make you feel as confident and ready as possible for your date, who was supposed to arrive iiiin…twenty minutes?!

You hurried your makeup routine and rushed to your room quickly picking out an outfit you felt sexy in but also had a grounding and comfy vibe. You threw on a beige knitted sweater, which had an oversized fit with a mini-jean skirt. Paired with sheer brown tights, thigh-high beige cashmere socks and brown leather knee-high, high-heeled boots. Finishing off the look with your favourite jewellery and accessories, you look over at the clock. It's 6.50pm and you are just adding the last finishing touches to your look and making sure you've moved all the important things from your ‘work-bag’ to your ‘going out purse’ when the door rings. ‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

a/n: hope yall liked this chapterrr- in the next chapter you'll be able to read all about the date and i am SO excited for yall to read about it *squeals* don't mean to toot my own horn but GURL it's so good i already wanna post it ♪(´▽｀)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

#ponchosworks<3 #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #transfixedseries

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

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Part 6 - Practice makes perfect

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 5 -- Part 7

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Elena)

Summary: Sherlock and Elena have their regular Saturday rehearsal, after their non-regular Friday... Study session... Is it going to be awkward? It's Sherlock, so yeah, probably.

Warnings: NONE! (Can you believe it? I sure can't!). There are some mentions of boners and we have 2 very much ND-coded individuals being awkward... And some angsty things.

Word count: 2.1k (It's a short one, too?...)

A/N: So this isn't smut and it's also not long. I don't know who I am anymore. Anyway, enjoy Awkward Sherlock <3

@peaches1958 I promised to let you know when this was up!

The doorbell rang at 12.30 sharp, as was the case every Saturday - Sherlock loathed tardiness, a fact Elena was well aware of, and it was a convenient coincidence that she was not generally inclined to be late, either. Normally, the door would open within seconds, and it would always be Sherlock on the opposite side of it. Today, however, Elena had to ring the bell a second time.

“Hello? Elena?” The young man who opened the door was not familiar to her, but he seemed to know who she was. Granted, it would be reasonable to assume that she was the only violin-carrying redhead who routinely showed up on their doorstep on Saturdays at 12.30 - if there had been any others, she surely would have seen them there. Elena nodded in response to the question and stepped inside once the stranger in front of her took a step to the side to let her pass.

“I’m Napoleon,” the stranger introduced himself, reaching out a hand, “nice to meet you. I think Sherlock is still upstairs.”

“Nice to meet you, too. I’ll be on my way up, then.” She said nervously as she shook her coat off her shoulders and put it on the overflowing coat rack.

“Alright, I trust you know the way by now.” And with that, Napoleon disappeared through the nearest door.

“Sherlock?” She had knocked on the door four times and tried his cellphone twice before she finally decided she’d had enough of these shenanigans and opened the door. Before she ascended the stairs, however, she decided it would be in everyone’s best interest if she called up to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anything. When no answer came, she made her way upstairs and into the room. She found Sherlock on his bed, with his headphones on, violin laying on his chest, eyes closed - it almost looked as if he were asleep. Elena stood at the top of the stairs for a moment before taking a few careful steps towards his desk, where she pressed pause on the music that was playing. His eyes flew open as soon as the music stopped, and he shot up, remembering just in time where he had put his violin. It was no cheap feat to have to replace one, or so Elena had found out a few summers prior. She was still paying her parents back for the portion that they had agreed was her responsibility.

“Is it twelve thirty already?” Sherlock asked, slightly dazed, as though he had genuinely just been asleep.

“By now I reckon it’s twelve thirty five,” Elena chuckled as she looked at the horrified look on his face.

“I am so incredibly sorry,” he said as he got up, placing his violin on the stand where it belonged. She laid her violin case down on the desk, as she usually did. Now that both of them had their hands free, they realized all of a sudden that they had absolutely no idea what to do with them. After last night, both of them had their own reasons to be afraid; Sherlock because he had no idea how to proceed, and Elena because she wasn’t quite used to the way things had ended. Sherlock had rejected her attempt to take things further, and though she genuinely believed that he shared her affections, she wondered how to proceed in this particular case. She was well aware that Sherlock was not big on talking about emotions - even if he was able to articulate them - and she didn’t want to make things needlessly complicated with unnecessary talk of feelings and the like. So they stood there; Sherlock folded his arms across his chest and Elena grabbed one of her upper arms and they stood there in silence with growing uncomfortable tension between them until they finally - simultaneously - suggested they practice. And so they did.

Practice went horribly. There was no other word for it. It was a good thing that this was not an orchestra rehearsal, because both of them suspected they would have been asked to leave. It started when Elena nearly whacked Sherlock in the head with her bow, and ended when Sherlock nearly dropped his violin during a part that he would normally have been able to play flawlessly in his sleep during an earthquake. To top it all off, Sherlock received a text from Geralt: “Maybe call it a day?” He could just about see the dirty smirk on the man’s face as he read it, and made a mental note to murder him later.

“Maybe we should stop,” Elena said. Her voice was accompanied by a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t think a few hours of practice warrant the murder of a very expensive violin.”

“I think you’re right,” was all Sherlock could say in reply. He felt utterly helpless. His playing had been called virtuose - by people other than his parents, thank you very much - yet today he wouldn’t have made it through ‘Mary had a little lamb’ without making a mistake. If he was incapable of doing something he was normally so incredible at, how on earth would he do anything else? Elena was packing her things and Sherlock’s breath faltered at the thought of her leaving.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, making Elena turn around. On her face lay a sweet smile, and with a few steps she closed the distance between them and took his violin from his hands and put them down carefully in their normal place, only to take his hands in hers and look up at him.

“I wasn’t leaving, Sherlock,” she chuckled while raising herself up on her toes. Sherlock leaned into her movement a little enthusiastically, causing their mouths to crash together unromantically and - in all honesty - quite painfully. It was the final straw for both of them; Elena couldn’t stifle a short burst of hysterical laughter, while Sherlock let out a frustrated scream. It fueled Elena’s laughing fit, causing the disgruntlement within Sherlock to grow until he finally snapped at her.

“Stop making me feel like more of an idiot, would you?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” Elena said while reaching out to touch his arm. He pulled away from her, turned around even, so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Don’t… I don’t want this,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

“I fancy you. But I don’t believe I enjoy feeling that way.” Sherlock took a deep breath before resuming his story: “All of this interferes with my thinking. And yesterday was very pleasant, and very… easy. But today, right now, nothing is easy. In fact, everything is decidedly uneasy, and it makes me feel…”

“Uneasy?”

“Elena, please! I’m serious. This is incredibly difficult for me to talk about, please don’t make it worse with silly commentary.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The expression on her face told him she meant it. She took a few more steps so that she was standing right in front of him. Her arms snaked around his waist and she pulled herself flush against his body, resting her head on his chest. After a while, he rested his hands on her hips and his chin on her head.

“Does this feel uneasy?” She asked softly as she stroked his back gently with the tips of her fingers.

“No,” Sherlock sighed.

“Then perhaps this is the perfect place to start,” she concluded. He didn’t object, in fact he considered any idea that involved holding her a splendid one.

Oddly enough, and perhaps more surprising to Sherlock himself than to anyone else, he was the one who broke their embrace.

“What would a normal suggestion be, rather than standing around like this?” An awkward smile adorned his face and his cheeks were slightly red.

“Watching a movie,” Elena chuckled. Sherlock shrugged and looked at her questioningly - Elena knew better than to wait for him to make the actual inquiry.

“Bed or couch?” She asked bluntly, already taking a step towards the couch without awaiting his answer. She was surprised when he grabbed her arm and pulled her in the other direction.

Even more surprising were the words that spilled from his lips completely unexpectedly: “The couch isn’t that comfortable.” Was she imagining things or was the remark genuinely dripping with insinuations of questionable propriety? The chaste kiss he planted on her lips suggested the former, much to her dismay.

After rearranging furniture and books to set up Elena’s laptop at the right height, they let themselves fall onto the bed. It took a while for them to find a comfortable position, but when they finally did, something didn’t feel quite right. While Elena relished the feeling of Sherlock’s large, firm and warm body behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her waist and soft lips in her hair, she couldn’t help but wonder whether his lack of advances meant he wasn’t as fond of her as she had come to believe. Sherlock, on the other hand, had to focus all his energy into not squeezing her uncomfortably close, and then some to control his thoughts - which were steadily barreling towards entirely inappropriate scenarios - and the corresponding biological reactions. The poor guy yearned so much to close every micron of space between their bodies that he could barely focus on the movie. After a while, she sensed his anxiety along with the unmistakable hardness that pressed against the small of her back, and through some exquisite bout of mental gymnastics mistook it for further rejection. Now, someone had to make the decision to talk about this situation before it cost them not only a potential relationship, but a very good friendship to boot, and Elena was fairly sure that the person to make that decision wouldn’t be Sherlock in a million years. Which logically meant she would have to.

“Could we talk?” She whispered softly as she turned around in his arms so that she was facing him. It would have been far easier to have this conversation with her back against his chest, but she was fairly certain she’d let both him and herself get away with too much vagueness and non-answers for this little talk to be productive.

“Is that strictly necessary?” Sherlock had never been one for small talk - a fact that was widely known among those familiar with him. Then there was any talk other than small talk, which wasn’t quite his cup of tea, either. In fact, it would be neither inappropriate nor inaccurate to suggest that Sherlock shied away from any kind of talk as best he could.

“I’m afraid so…” It was immediately obvious that Elena wouldn’t let him get away with his usual evasive attitude towards intimate conversation. Sherlock figured it would be easier to just give in to her demand, still fully denying the necessity of this conversation.

“What is the matter?” Sherlock sighed.

“Last night… You rejected me.” She decided to not yet bring up her feelings regarding the fact that she had just spent half an hour with a hard-on pressing against her, yet he hadn’t made a pass at her, or even so much as attempted to kiss her again.

“I have a very different take on the matter.” Sherlock sounded as stoic as ever, but the apples of his cheeks colored red, revealing his discomfort and anxiety. Elena, however, was surprised by the answer.

“You do?”

“Elena, yesterday was very intimate and very pleasant,” the red of his blush deepened as his thoughts shifted back to the previous night, which did absolutely nothing to help his situation, but he couldn’t help himself , “but ultimately it was also a very new experience for me. If you think I had no desire to go beyond where we did, you are mistaken; that wasn’t the case at all.” He deliberated for a second whether to expand on that statement by telling her how much her presence in and of itself aroused him before deciding that she was probably experienced enough to deduce that from his current state, which had no doubt caught her attention. There really was no need to embarrass himself any further, he reasoned, and so he continued: “All of this is just quite a lot to process, and I have to take this a bit slower than you may be used to.” Had he just inadvertently called her easy? “Not that I’m trying to insinuate that…” He scrambled for words to the point where he was almost stuttering when he uttered that sentence. Elena, much to his relief, chuckled.

“You’re not insinuating anything, continue.”

“What I am trying to say is that I didn’t intend to say ‘no’ to you, I merely meant to say ‘later’,” he cleared his throat as he searched for words to continue. “I completely understand if this changes things for you. I am also fairly sure that I would find that very upsetting, because I truly am very fond of you. But I could imagine you wouldn’t want to wait around for me to get to where you are.”

“Don’t you underestimate my patience, Sherlock Holmes.” She laughed as she pressed her lips to his. “Or my leadership skills.”

-> Part 7

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock x ofc #hc sherlock #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes fanfic #179cs #179cs6 #179 crescent street

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dopaminergicaddictions · 9 months ago

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I saw Katie on okcupid... I have strange feelings about it.

1) I don't have feelings for her and I want her to be happy but it was awkward and hurt for a different reason.

2) i reached out so many times asking for friendship and she ignores me 99% of the time. When I really need a friend. She's a good person and one of the only people who treated me kindly that I dated.

I'm hurt that she won't respond to me regularly and talk to me. I don't expect a relationship...

Bc:

1) she hates my family

2) she doesn't want to come over my house

3) she barely even looked or talked to my mother... I don't expect my partner to be best friends with her but- I mean I do expect them to talk to her and treat her like she's a person.

My feelings are sadness... sadness that she won't talk to me much. Sadness that she won't be my friend. Sadness that I lose everyone I care about.

I messaged her explaining I just wanted to be her friend. I explained I saw her on okcupid and idc that she's trying to find someone and I just want her to be happy.

I just said I wanted to know her and be close and she means a lot to me.

We'll see if she responds to that..

Either way the dating world is disappointing. I don't want Katie back cause she will never be comfortable in my house or around my family. I just want to stop being so isolated.

The last 2 days I've been surrounded by people and I hallucinated 10% of the time.. but when I'm in my room once I go to be alone it's constant.... so I'm trying hard to put myself out there but it's hard.

I joined a voice hearers support group that I'm going to keep attending on zoom twice a week.. the non binary leader 100% gave me a look at the end of the session.. I was the last one there before we disconnected.. and the look was like, "I think you're hot af". I mean I'm open minded but I still love elise

I truly don't want anyone but her and when I eventually do they are going to be special... I mean I got to put myself out there dating wise . I got to put myself out there friendwise

I'd join a IOP but it scarfices my individualized attention I get with therapy. I'm desperate to be around people.

I'm so isolated. I may join a bunch of support groups but idk bc most meet once a week.... I'm hoping I can get a friend to talk to on the phone everyday.... and maybe play Xbox live with John and Fire...

Dialogue helps so much. Being social makes such a huge difference..

I feel undatable though... and I mean that. I get why elise didn't want me, I mean for one she's married.. but look at me. I'm a mess...

I don't think I can find a friend who will talk to me everyday.

My dad was trying to tell me to get hospitalized. Cause my environment isn't safe and one that will help me heal... he isn't wrong but losing the ability to chose my meds. Chose my food/calorie count which I've been a stickler about minus the last 2 days which I've been beating myself up over ... and losing the ability to chose what I do everyday will be depressing and will actually make me less healthy.

Although I somehow have to find people to talk to. I need to be social. Idk how.

I wish I could talk to elise.

I don't want anyone else but unfortunately when it comes to people no one spends a lot of time with their friends. I still won't smoke pot cause I don't want to worsen my symptoms... I'm not going to until at least 2 months after it stops...

I'm really lonely. I need someone to talk to everyday. I wish it was Elise. I wish Katie would hang out with me once every 2 weeks. I wish I had things to do surrounded by people.

I got to find queer groups. I got to do something. I hallucinate so infrequently around people it's almost normal and it's depressing that I'm stuck here.

Hospitalization will worsen my mental health ... I need the right to chose what I do... but staying here isn't the healthiest. I need to enrich my environment. I need people.

Where do you find them?? Most groups only meet once a month thankfully the voice hearers groups meets multiple times a week 5 out of 7 days. . But the times varies and only 2 days a week work with my schedule....

Idk what to do. I want to win this battle. I want to try to see if Elise will show up for me in 2 years.... I want to believe I mean something to her..

But in this environment.. idk how to survive much longer. I'm trying but I'm feeling hopeless cause idk how to fill my time with social activities.

I also can't shake the feeling that Elise is my soulmate. I mean I'm probably 99% wrong. It makes dating hard cause I truly don't want anyone but her. Yet I have to look anyways cause I need companionship.

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mosesdumpin · 1 year ago

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It's kinda disheartening at times, although it definitely feels like... a stupid gripe to have. As much as I try, its not always easy to take situations (scenarios? cultural pivot points? whatever) without directly comparing it to situations that are not as personally relevant but obviously facing a more severe version or more pressing negatives.

Without sitting down to think about it too much (again, not the point of this musing) an easy comparison would be how dark your skin is allowed to be while also being a western sex symbol (this even... horrifyingly... translates to the global south and east asia) along with the elevation of "white" features vs the more representative features in a cultural/ethnic group.

The above is obviously a more damaging and wide reaching problem than the one I am presenting here, but since I am quite white and skirting on mostly scots-irish features in a german/ashkenazim body type, the above issue only indirectly chafes my experiences.

I know that overall personal hygiene is almost universally (source: I am so horny for a counter example tbh) considered a desirable physical trait, with exceptions tending to be for CONTEXT around why someone isn't appearing hygienic. That isn't really what the gripe is about (I am not going to say "white men should be allowed to be sloppy and also expect immediate physical validation" lol)

Its just... tbh most white men I have consistently hung around were not someone who could be posted on twitter to hunt for a mob of sweaty gifs. I nearly called them "ugly," quotations and all, there but fucking hell, they arent. And I don't mean their personality made them more attractive, or even the nebulous "how they carry" themselves. I mean like... physically they were interesting, distinct, and attractive.

For example, the first guy that comes to mind was the incredibly skinny and average heighted kid I was close with in the later years of high school. When I say skinny, I don't mean slim. I mean skeletal, even though he wasn't unhealthy or anything. His skin was worn tight around his features, his muscles more function over flash, his movements highlighted by features that seemed longer by the visible joints and bone.

He had large eyes, but they weren't bulging. A crooked hairline, and even in those young years his crown was thinning. The classic thin white boy lips, and angular features. We were all awkward, but his stumbling coming-of-age screamed eternal. He didn't have the height that other boys with similar body types could lean on, and wasn't inclined to strenuous physical activity like sports or weight lifting (not lazy, mind you)

I remember him, along with a surprisingly diverse group of friends he and I belonged to, because he felt the anger and despair that comes with thinking you just simply weren't born the right way to get the kind of love you deserve. It manifested exactly how a funny jokester on twitter might lay out - a bitterness towards women and more physically acceptable men that stretched far outside what was reasonable without tracing the problem any further than that.

Now me. I am strikingly average. Not in the "all white men look the same" kind of way, but in a bell curve kind of way. I was average weight, average height, average face shape, etc. Looking at my individual features might paint a more novel picture but somehow putting them all together gives me god damn chameleon powers. I will note that these judgements come from YEARS of self-assessment both internally and with external validation, and is not meant to be self-deprecation NOR am I implying that this is the conclusion people will always make when they look at me.

My point is actually that people have yet to be compelled to look at me without some non-physical stimulus. With adjustments and realizations, this suits me quite well tbh. I will never be eye-grabbing, but I can play any social role a white man can play with just a little prep time, and I've had to work on who I am internally in order to be remembered.

I bring up my friend and myself because I considered us both in the same boat, when I know he did not. I was just close enough to the general acceptance of physical attractiveness to not be a problem, but far enough away to make him feel isolated. That he was the only "ugly" one in the room.

I will skip some of the obvious problematic lessons this boy had to learn. You can probably guess some of them. These days, however, he wears his hair wavy-messy in a way that doesn't cover up his bald spot since it seems to just affect his crown, but changes it from a problem to a quirk. He is still skinny, and pale (did I mention that?) and frankly doesn't really look much different to me after all these years besides the hair. HOWEVER, the awkwardness that prophesized to be eternal did leave him at some point, and now when he moves all the tight skin and telltale bones and joints seem intentional. He moves his arms, hands and fingers deliberately and slowly but most of all, he moves them at the same time. It generates a grace that doesn't come from your typical sources of agility like sports, yoga, dancing, etc. He simply accepted his body in a very subtle and (to me) impressive way.

this isn't going to be a "he loved himself for who he was" story.

He aged a bit, got some laugh lines and forehead creases. His pronounced skull is now defined as sharp and handsome. Of course, he didn't physically change. He adapted and adjusted. How he got there from the MRA-incel adjacent angsty 19 year old I left him to be is a mystery, but he isn't far off from my own personal ideological vagary of egalitarian compassion. Its not something it happens often and knowing him and feeling the same bitterness its hard... sometimes... to remember that what awful man he COULD have been is the unexpected abberant... and not a reasonable response from a kid that was stoked through progressive lefts calling every bad person ugly or creepy on twitter as a clapback or being told he has to earn love, somehow, through means that are a mystery to him from some chode who clearly landed upper management at their father's lawfirm with the Chris Hemsworth face.

Obviously the less-than-ideal white men aren't destined for the worst outcome, and its not what I'd call an excuse since clearly there is a path out. I will eat my PC if that path was exclusively internal and without some kind of validation though, and with how we treat people... why be surprised? You helped make this hell casserole. Stop putting shit in the casserole.

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sorrelce · 1 year ago

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IDK, flower language is complicated.

It's definitely a possibility to keep in mind, but unless we know for sure which dictionary they're working out of? It's hard to be sure which code they intend. Amapola are closer linked to rebirth and eternal life, for example, and fertility, growth, passion, patience, healing. Related, yes, but sometimes in opposition to the poppy interpretation of death, sleep, peace, mourning, remembrance and dreams.

The life and love motif set comes from emphasis on the multitude of petals, the vibrant color, and the healing properties. The death and sleep set: a different interpretation of the color, a different set of medicinal applications (opium cough), and the places it is known to grow--battlefields.

Unless Tallulah has mentioned WHY she specifically identifies with that flower-- which set of meanings resonates with her-- it'd be difficult to assign any meaning beyond a personal signature. Hindsight, and thematic analysis may reveal more, but that is of limited use for prediction purposes and communication of more complex ideas.

The oxeye daisy--patience, divine message, being looked after, a return, new beginnings, innocence. Ok, this seems like a very clear and targeted message. But it also symbolizes divination, and is THE flower for 'he loves me, loves me not', and other romantic divination traditions, is associated with motherhood, environmentalism, is used to mean purity, honesty. A potential message gets complex to interpret immediately.

"Be patient, I'm coming home soon, I'm being looked after, believe me". Easily in reach. But I can put together some very bizarre messages together too. "I'm pregnant and not sure how the father feels, also the garden needs attention". Hilarious, but unlikely and unhelpful. So how do we determine which is the useful info, beyond what we WANT to be true??? We can't.

Some meanings *seem* relevant and obvious...but taking the flowers together, I can get 'don't worry, I'm safe and coming home' as easily 'be at ease, death is peaceful, maybe we'll meet again in another life'. And I don't find the ambiguity reassuring or in any way clarifying.

It's fun to analyze, but I don't really think we'll get anywhere with it until we have more concrete information. It's fuel for hope, at most. At worst, terrifying and grief inducing.

If anything I think the fact Fred left flowers at all gives us more to work with.

Is the intent general sympathy? Because Phil talked about flowers having meaning to him (when the roadway adornments were accidentally uprooted), and Fred acknowledged the pain the parents were in, and stated they intended no harm? Flowers for no other reason that to brighten their day a little, and paint themself a sympathetic and reasonable person, despite the awkwardness of the encounter?

Or IS Fred in fact trying to leave clues/communications, whatever their meaning. Clues imply they HAVE information. How? And why can't they share it openly? Does this imply the Fed has the info, and won't share it, and Fred disagrees? Or Fred has non fed originating intel? Or isn't fed at all?

If they are sending a message, was there always the intent to send one? The poppy and daisy weren't left until after Fit's interview. Were they that sure that Phil would follow them for Fit's interview, that they could send the message to both at once? Because otherwise, it looks like an impulse decision. And that the cranberry juice and avocado toast might have been more prepared, as those were individually given.

Many mysteries.

I think, if the flowers are code, we need info from Tubbo. Aren't they exchanging flowers along with their letters? The two of them might be able to set up an agreement on which meanings each bloom is meant to represent, through subject context clues in the text. Hopefully Fred hadn't included anything alright hinted in prior letters though, because I don't think Tubbo kept copies...

so before he left Fred put down an oxeye daisy and a poppy

Oxeye daisies represent patience

Poppies represent sleep, peace and death

thinking. thinking about how the parents have been patient. thinking about they need to stay patient, and that fit and phil have been two of the most patient ones.

thinking about how both phil and fit have had sleep related phenomenons lately, with Phil being locked inside a cage and waking up, believing he had just been sleeping. And then Fit also sleeping for a whole week.

They’re also related to peace in a way, both having been chaotic in the past but getting to the island got them to become more peaceful people. Even saying that they aren’t who they used to be, that the island changed them.

Phil is so so obviously connected to death I don’t think I have to go into it, but also poppies specifically? That’s something connected to Tallulah. Fit is also connected to death, maybe partially because he’s so close to Phil but also because 2b2t is absolutely full of it

idk maybe i’m reading into this too much! brainworms! maybe it means nothing! but i think it does, especially because of the whole thing with Fred mentioning flower language to Tubbo.

Also daisies are white and Ramon uses white signs

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #missing eggs theory #qsmp fred

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erensproudsimp · 4 years ago

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Experiment

Hange Zoe x fem! reader Oneshot

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : Hange and you have been dating each other for quite some time. One day due to rain, you went over to Hange's and hehe hot stuff happens.

I've used they/them pronouns for Hange due to them being non-binary, hope y'all don't mind. :)

"HANGEEEE!" screaming down the hallway near the university laboratory, you entered said place joltily.

By this time all the science students were used you to coming by everyday while causing a ruckus to meet your significant other. You couldn't help yourself being always excited to see the only person who could make your day a million times better and today as usual you had something interesting to show them. Well, by interesting you meant something random you saw that day and just picked it up to give it to Hange. Never were they ever weird out by this as they were as eccentric as you.

"Look what I found today!" proudly bringing your hand close to their face to show them the red rock you saw in your yard.

"Heh, as usual my dear y/n, you never fail to fascinate me," they chuckled eyeing the objet closely.

"I shall add this wonderful rock to my series of collection of stuff you keep bringing to me everyday!" smilingly Hange took it.

This brought a faint blush on your cheeks as just the thought of Hange keeping the random stuff you bringing daily made you feel somewhat special.

" Sooo, what are you working on today?" you questioned them while looking at the equipment on the table.

"Ohohoho you don't know what I've just made!" they excitedly said dexterously arranging the mess to show you.

While they were enthusiastically explaining to you her recent invention, you couldn't help but stare at their jolliness. The way they made absolutely anything sound captivating just spellbound you. To describe it, it was like a meteor shower falling enlightening the night sky which you could gaze for hours, yeah, that's how Hange was.

"Hihi, that's awesome! I'm so proud of you!" you praised her happily.

"Hehe, I'm glad you appreciated my invention, after all I am your better half," haughtily they said which made you subconsciously smile.

Right at that moment a loud thunder was heard making you jump. Since morning it's been cloudy and you really hoped that it wouldn't rain in the evening as it would pose a problem for you to travel home by bus. The droplets were hitting hard against the window panes indicating it was a heavy shower. Disappointment filled your being.

"Noo, now how would I reach the bus stop on time with this weather," you complained utterly dejected and tensed.

"You know y/n, you can always ask me for a ride in my car right?" Hange said while pouring a clear liquid in a testing tube.

"I know but I don't wanna bother you."

"Oh come-on y/n, how can you ever bother me?" they reassured, "and if you really don't want to sound like a trouble then come over to my appartment. It's win-win situation, you reach home and I would get more time to spend with you."

"W-what, Hange please, ugh okay then I'll come with you," sighing you responded.

Waiting for Hange to finish up whatever they were doing but it wasn't as though you as a finance student would understand it to be able to help her out. Instead you were scrolling on Tiktok when they came up to you without warning making you jerk, "GOSH HANGE! YOU COULD HAVE CALLED FOR ME."

Chuckling, Hange grabbed your hand to make you stand up. Losing your footing, you fell in their arms which they gladly grabbed you. Giving you a brief forehead kiss, they proceeded to drag you to the parking lot. At first you didn't process the action making you scream but when you got the hang of it, you ran alongside with them hand in hand laughing.

Hange unlocked the car and you got into the front passenger seat. Both of you were laughing while still catching your breaths.

"Now off to my house we gooo!" Hange yelled as you were wearing your seatbelt.

Throughout the whole ride both of you conversed about each of your days and the daily news.

"Can you believe that Sasha and Nicollo are finally going out with each other? I always knew that they were a match made in heaven," you rambled as Hange listened to you intently while also focusing on the road.

"I mean I could see it happening seeing their compatibility and the way they complete each other, just like you complete me," Hange added.

Her last words made your face heat up which you hid by looking outside. Luckily for you, you finally reached your destination. It wasn't the first you came over to her appartement so you took her keys and ran inside. Normally her place would be messy like a dumpster because that human barely had time in her hands to take care of their house but for once it was spotless clean.

"Did Levi come over?" you asked them, hand on your hip.

"I-yeah. Yesterday he did. But I swear I'll try to be more responsible from now on!" Hange affirmed.

You took a deep breath and asked, "so what are we eating tonight?"

"I don't know y/n, you choose," they replied kicking their boots off to enter the residence.

"How about we order Pizza?"

"Sure thing love," grabbing her phone to order said food, Hange said.

"How about you go take a bath while I take out plates?" you suggested.

"I mean only if you're willing to join me," they smirked while leaning on the door.

Out of embarrassment you threw a pillow laying on the couch at her, "NO!"

"Sad, I was really hoping for some fun in there," they replied before running into the bathroom as you were about to hit them with another pillow.

While you waited for her to come out so that you in your turn could go freshen up, you arranged everything to be able to eat. Having such nights with Hange is always something you've dreamt of doing but you never had the courage to ask.

A few moments later, Hange came out with hair dripping wet which they were trying to dry with a towel. Damn they looked hot in that condition. Before you could start simp over them, you excused yourself to go bathe.

Feeling the warm water touch your skin evaporated all your stress from you as you relaxed. Coming out of the bathroom wearing Hange's clothes, you went to sit next to them on the couch. You noticed that the pizza had already arrived so you took a piece of it to eat. You two watched this popular series called 'Attack on titan' together until the pizza was finished.

Throwing the pizza cardboard in the bin, you went to see Hange already laying on the bed. Scooting to them, you placed your head on their shoulder as they held you tight with one arm and the other holding their phone. You were watching memes with her laughing when suddenly there was a video of two girls kissing came up which made your heart beat faster. You could tell Hange felt so as well as she swiped quickly to prevent awkwardness.

A little bit of tension remained in both of you yet no one made the first move. It kept growing as you felt their hot breath on your face because you were leaning on them.

Feeling bothered and assuming that Hange wasn't going to initiate it, you snatched their phone from their hand and kept it on the table next to the bed for you to straddle on them.

Shifting yourself to be more comfortable, you leaned down to smack your lips against theirs. Still processing whatever just happened, Hange went with the flow. For this moment at least. Hands on your ass, they squeezed them as you laid your body on theirs.

Lips still crashed against each others and tongues still fighting over control, Hange's minds began to fill with sexual fantasies that they could enact on you in this precise moment.

Pulling back from you, they settled your body on the bed to go search for something in the wardrobe. They came back with a blindfold facing you.

"Do you mind if I take your vision away for a while? I don't want to ruin the surprise of what I'm going to do to you."

Gulping hardly you took the black cloth and blinded yourself.

"Good girl," Hange praised giving you a headpat to continue their rummage.

With no warnings, you were pushed on the bed lightly. At first you didn't understand what was going on but that was before you felt a rope on your wrists which was being wrapped around them individually then pulled upwards signaling it was being tied down to the bed. The same thing was done for both of your legs.

Anticipation mounted in you as you felt hands running from your chest to your stomach.

"I hope that the ropes are not too tight, are they?" they concernedly asked.

You shaked your head to say no still having the blindfold on.

"No? Well, then I think you would love this being in your mouth," they said coming closer to you. You were expecting her to stuff her fingers in but it ended up being something you certainly didn't anticipate at all.

Holding your head up, they made you wear it. Initially it was uncomfortable but you managed to deal with it as it only turned you on more. It was a gag ball.

You laid your head on a pillow desperately craving Hange's touch but of course they were still searching for something.

"Don't worry y/n, I'll come to you as soon as I find that one thing I bought last week I wanted to test out," Hange spoke from the other side of the room.

Trying to keep your growing lust in control, you fidgeted with the device in your mouth.

" Ah-ha! found it, now wait for me y/n, I'll fuck you into oblivion soon," their voice coming out breathless.

Feelings the sides of the bed sink and a presence hoving above you, you became more excited to what Hange was going to do this time.

Their soft lips colliding again against yours as their hands ran down to unbutton your shirt leaving your bare chest naked as you weren't wearing any undergarments. For a few seconds Hange didn't do anything. As you were ripped from your eyesight, you couldn't see that Hange was in fact staring at the prefect roundness of your boobs displayed to them .

Unable to contain themselves, they ran their tongue on one of your breasts while the other was being fondled with their hands. Your breathing was quickening at their doings. Out of nowhere they bit your nipple softly making you bit the gagball stifling a moan.

Going lower on you they pulled down your pants while they kissed you on your bellybutton. Without warning again you felt a pain on your hip and teeth leaving your skin. Biting you again on the other side of your hip, Hange caressed your inner thighs. This time you couldn't contain the moan as it escaped your mouth through the gag ball.

Looking at your entrance, Hange saw that though they didn't yet completely lay hands on you, you were soaking wet. Then they assumed that it was probably from the long amount of time you had to wait for them.

You heard the opening of the cap of a tube. Your mind raced through all the possibilities of what it could be.

But of course it was the least thing you could expect as you felt something touching your cunt.

It was a lukewarm rubbery thing that was being ran through your swollen folds.

"Wanna guess what it is? Y/n," Hange said as you felt the object or whatever it was penetrate you. An 'hmm' came out of you as your back arched graciously making Hange widen their eyes.

"Ahaha, y/n you beautiful creature! You never cease to amaze me the more I explore you,"Hange complimented pushing the thing deeper into you.

" Lemme reward you for blessing me with his gorgeous sight and return you back your vision, "they continued.

Your insides felt empty as Hange had to remove the item to open the blindfold. You must say you had quite of the shocker to see them. Straddling you was a Hange that you didn't recognize.

They were wearing a black lingerie delicately complimented with black thigh highs and on their pelvis area was a strap-on-dildo.

"I wanted to experiment this on you," they gave you a light smirk before positioning themselves in front of your pussy. Taking the small bottle thrown on the bed nearby, Hange opened it. It was lube. Dropping quite some on the dildo, Hange jerked it to spread the lubricant.

Placing their hand on your hips for support, Hange inserted it again.

They couldn't describe how much they ravished to look at you in this state. As they were thrusting their hips in and out, the room became filled with your moans and Hange's name.

"Yes y/n scream my name louder. Make the neighbours hear how good I'm making you feel," Hange panted.

'Hmmm Hange I'm getting close, go faster please, "you begged them.

Taking your wishes into consideration, Hange did not double up the speed but rather trippled it. You were practically shaking on the bed as your screams got louder and louder.

Not late enough, you released yourself on them. The pleasure was so unbearable it almost hurted. Panting on the bed, you looked at the ceiling to regain control of yourself. Then looking back at Hange, only to see that they were already staring at you lovingly.

"Can you untie me now? I need to pee," you coughed.

"Ahaha, no piss on the bed," Hange declared as you were startled by their statement.

"Just kidding lemme help you refresh yourself," Hange joked making you feel relieved.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years ago

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Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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hitoshiikigai · 4 years ago

Text

Foreign Feelings

anon request: Hiya there Sen!! I love your blog and i would love to read more of your writings. Can i request an imagine for being like a first year european shy student and becoming Nekoma’s manager, she slowly develops a crush for kenma but doesn’t know how to express her feelings because of language and because she thinks kenma won’t return her feelings

‪(o_ _)ﾉ彡☆ a/n 「i made it gender neutral, i hope that's ok and if it's not, i can change it to your liking! also, this is my first romance fic in my whole life, i hope it's satisfactory(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ i feel like i just forgot the slowly part-」

‪pronouns used: they/them

‪word count: 2.8k

You continuously repeat your introduction in your head as you wait for your turn. It's ok, you can do this, you've learnt this in basic Japanese lessons, it's just a few lines. Nothing too complicated!

The voice of the person behind you breaks the chant in your mind, "I'm Haiba Lev and..." Your thoughts block out the rest of his introduction. Is he a foreigner too? That name definitely does not sound Japanese but you note of his perfect pronunciation- a screech of a chair moving startles you and you're suddenly aware of the eyes of your new classmates staring right at you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you stand up, doing a bow, the Japanese words tumbling clumsily out of your mouth, "I'm (Y/N) (L/N)- no wait- (L/N) (Y/N), please just call me (y/n). Nice to meet all of you." You keep your eyes on your desk as you bow once again before sitting back down. You pretend not to notice the murmurs and sounds of interest about the two foreign students in their class, busying yourself by preparing your things for the lesson.

Mechanical pencil on the right. Pencil case right above your notebook. The ruler-

"Psst... Hey, you're not from Japan, right?" You turn around to meet glowing green eyes that somehow made you feel like you were looking into a cat's eyes instead. You nod and he grins in what you could guess as excitement. However, before he could say any more, he was cut off by the teacher signalling the start of class.

Maybe he's a potential friend?

After a few lessons of trying to keep up with the lessons taught in Japanese, your brain's finally granted with a break from trying to translate and you can't help the sigh that escapes you as you rest your cheek on your table, closing your eyes.

"Hey Y/N! Wanna have lunch with me?" You open your eyes to see your tall classmate looming over you- right, his name's Lev. Or should you call him Haiba?

You quickly weigh the pros and cons of eating with him. He seems like a nice person to be friends with and having a non-Japanese friend in this less-than-familiar country could definitely do you some good, maybe your Japanese can improve faster as well. But... you were planning to just find some nice quiet spot to listen to music in hopes of preventing the growing headache, a result of an overwhelming first day.

Well, there's no harm, you suppose... "Sure, I don't mind," you agree and you search for your wallet in your bag as Lev waits patiently.

Once he sees you're ready, he smiles widely and starts walking to the cafeteria most likely and you follow him, having to walk slightly faster to keep up.

"Where are you from? I'm half-Russian but I can't speak Russian. Oh! I know a few people here already! I visited the school before the school year started and made friends with people from the volleyball team. I'm actually gonna join the team once they start taking in applicants and-" Lev rambles on and you could only hum or nod, insert a few words of your own when he asks a question until you reach the cafeteria.

"Lev! Here! You're late!" You see a student with black messy hair that spikes up everywhere except for the fringe that covers his right eyes waving his arm. Lev bounds up to the table with you in tow and you can already see a few curious eyes examining you. Your gaze sweeps across the table, an uninterested guy playing with a switch catching your eyes a tiny fraction longer than the others before you look down at the floor, shuffling just a bit behind Lev, your current shield.

"This is Y/N, my new friend! They're not from Japan and I thought I could show them around," Lev claps his hands on your shoulders and moves you forward, putting you right in the spotlight.

Oh no. Ok, deep breaths. A simple introduction, no big deal. It's definitely a smaller group, better than a whole class.

"H-hi..." You clear your throat, cursing yourself mentally for the stutter, and repeat yourself with what you hope was a stronger voice. There's a chorus of greetings and before you even realise, you find yourself squished between Lev and a friendly-looking guy with a buzzcut, who you soon come to know as Kai, after a round of introductions.

How did you end up here? In a gym full of flying balls that could accidentally hit your face anytime? With your arms full of water bottles that you just filled up? You definitely did not sign up for this... Ok, well technically you did, you just didn't know what was in store. Try being a manager just for one practice, they said. Somehow, it feels like you were tricked somewhere along the line.

You hand the water bottles to the boys, jolting slightly when your hand unintentionally brushes against Kenma's. He thanks you quietly and you only nod in acknowledgment, avoiding any form of eye-contact with him and quickly moving on to hand the rest of the water bottles out before going back to the sidelines to watch.

It's really amazing watching them play. Everyone seems so coordinated with each other and the teamwork is seamless. Despite that, there are a few individuals that pique your interest: Yaku who seems to be able to teleport anywhere in the court, Lev with his tall and powerful stature, and more importantly, Kenma with his smart plays. It's like he calls the game, dictating where and how the ball goes and it's a whole experience observing him. Of course, the other members are amazing in their own ways, watching the team play is like watching a well-oiled machine working.

"How are you, Y/N?" Kai asks from beside you, wiping his sweat and giving you a warm smile.

You peel your eyes away from the quiet setter to answer Kai, and also to make sure you aren't caught staring at the certain player, "It's..." You try to find the correct words in your brain as Kai waits patiently for your answer. "It's nice... to watch. Everyone's good." You blush in embarrassment at the simple words you used, not having the full vocabulary to communicate what you really want to say. Kai, being the angel he is, makes a noise of approval and gives another warm smile which at least make you relax.

"If you need help with anything, you can ask any of us," he tells you before going back to the courts. You bow to him which he only waves off, laughing amiably.

After attending a few more practice sessions and having lunch with the team almost every break, you've grown a bit more comfortable with them, especially with Kai and Yaku, along with Lev. The team always tried their best to use simpler words whenever they spoke to you and you're definitely grateful for their efforts. However, there's just one person you've barely interacted with:

Kozume Kenma.

The third years obviously noticed the lack of interaction, especially Kuroo and he made it his own personal mision to try to get the two of you to talk to each other more, albeit with many difficulties.

"Come on, Kenma. You don't think I don't notice you paying attention anytime Y/N talks? You're not exactly very slick, you always pause your games just for Y/N," Kuroo nudges Kenmas side with his elbow which Kenma slaps away in irritation.

"Shut up Kuroo."

Kuroo leans in closer to Kenma, "You can't tell me you don't notice Y/N staring at you during practice? Blushing whenever you're 5 metres away from each other? Or when-"

"Kuroo, please just shut up," Kenma groans and glares at his switch, clicking away at the buttons and suppressing the urge to scream in anger as the words 'GAME OVER' flash on the screen. Instead, he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before letting out a long sigh.

Kuroo smiles knowingly before his eyes shift over to something behind Kenma.

"Kuroo-senpai? Kenma-senpai? Has Kai-san arrived yet? I need to ask him something..." Kenma stiffens as your soft voice reaches his ears. He bristles at the 'senpai' title attached to his name, wanting you to just rid of the honorific altogether. He was supposed to tell you, in fact, he had been wanting to tell you to just refer to him casually just like everyone does but he never got the chance. How could he when your conversations only last 30 seconds long each time?

Jump. Jump. Duck. Ju- GAME OVER.

He pressed down his buttons more aggressively, a frown slowly forming on his face. Why couldn't he be more talkative? Why is talking so hard? Why is talking to YOU so hard? Lev does it so easily, Kai too, and Yaku and... and just everyone in the team but him.

You stare in concern as you watch Kenma play angrily with his game and you look to Kuroo for answers only to be met with a shrug.

"Yaku will be running late, some class meeting or something," Kuroo stands up and stretches, walking out of the gym, "Meanwhile, I'll go get my things."

The sounds from Kenma's game filled up the awkward silence and you take a moment to steel yourself, walking towards Kenma. "A-are you okay, Kenma-senpai? You look... angry?" At your question, Kenma's fingers still and the sounds suddenly stopped.

Kenma looks up at you and places his switch on his lap before looking away. "I'm okay... I'm not angry." He mumbles and you smile in relief at his words. "Do you want to play?" He suddenly offers his switch to you and you blink in shock, never really having known or seen him to ever share his switch with someone, simply rejecting anyone- save for that tangerine boy from another school- who tried to even get their hands on his beloved switch.

Noticing your hesitance, he places the gadget on the bench, between the two of you, letting you take your time. You look back to search for anything that will clue you in if he doesn’t actually want to do this, but finding none, you gingerly take it, careful not to drop it or at least try to not leave any embarrassingly sweaty fingerprints. You feel Kenma shifting closer to you to get a closer look at the screen and you don’t know if you feel lightheaded from him being the closest he has ever been that you can actually feel body heat radiating from him or from forgetting to breathe. Trying to focus on the little digital character instead and your fingers clumsily hitting the buttons, a contrast to the way his nimble fingers moved with muscle memory.

And if you felt butterflies in your stomach as he occasionally positioned your fingers on the correct button, the butterflies immediately flew away the moment Lev walks in the gym and you were left with just tingling fingers.

You cradle the box of apple pie you bought in a rush from the bakery, trying to tidy up the ribbon you tied around it to make it more presentable. You had asked Kai about what Kenma liked because you knew there was no way you could write or even say anything close to romantic in Japanese, so you figured out you could give him little gifts, you know, actions soeak louder than words, that kinda thing? As you think of the many ways you could say something wrong by declaring your feelings to him in a foreign tongue like unknowingly saying something ridiculous, or stupid, or even worse, something dirty! Lev’s incessant teasing and mock-kissing noises only stopped when you reached the gym.

“Oh? Y/N-chan, who’s that apple pie for, I wonder,”Kuroo gives you a knowing look and blatantly stares at Kenma, who just seems unbothered. You try to reason yourself that he was only concentrating on his game. Ignoring Kuroo, you take a tentative step towards Kenma, making sure you’re in his line of sight before thrusting the box to him, “For you Kenma… Uh, enjoy it!” You blurted out before brisk walking to the equipment room to take refuge, not even waiting for his reaction.

You hear the muffled shouts of the boys and you can imagine them crowding Kenma. You wince in sympathy.

During the whole practice, you had to deflect the many looks and questions the boys gave you. Thankfully, Kai managed to stop them before it got too much. A godsend. Before any of them could corner you after practice, you zoomed past the gym doors the moment you were done with your manager duties, forgetting that you had barely paid any attention to Kenma the whole time.

“Lev, do you know who’s this from?” You ask Lev, holding up the canned drink that was left on your table.

“Oh, that’s from Kenma. He came here earlier to place it there. He honestly could’ve just asked me to pass it to you but he said I would lose it or something. How mean,” Lev huffs but you can only focus on the fact that Kenma went through efforts to make sure you received it.

“Thank you for the apple pie yesterday. It was really nice,” Kenma took a seat beside you, on the same bench you first played his switch together.

“T-thank you for the drink! It’s my favourite,” you smile shyly. The corner of his lips curl up, just ever so slightly, which you think was the trick of the light.

Kenma gives his switch to you, now a weekly routine for the both of you on days he finishes class earlier. The distance between you and him grew smaller and smaller until your elbows brush against his at any slight movement.

This is it. This is the moment. You made a mental deal with yourself a week ago. If you win this level today, the one where you always lose, you’ll confess to him and if you don’t, you’ll simply leave your feelings hidden and buried deep in the safe in your heart.

Your eyebrows furrow in concentration, refusing any help from Kenma (Kenma just ignored the tiny sting in his heart when you did).

In the meantime, Kenma takes the chance to watch you, sharp, feline eyes studying your features. The stray baby hairs peeking out after a long school day, the slight sheen on your skin from the hot and humid gym, the determination in your eyes. Determination? To beat the level? He restrains himself from chuckling at your cuteness. This felt very different when he watches Shouyo play his video games. Kenma just really feels different any time he’s around you.

You abruptly stand up and cheer, “I did it! Kenma, look!” You show him the screen with the words ‘MISSION COMPLETE’ flashing repeatedly on the screen. You grinned widely at him and he smiles back in fondness.

Suddenly, you go all quiet, which concerned Kenma. “I have something to tell you.” At that, he tilts his head, urging for you to go on.

“I… IlikeyouKenma!” Your words end up being stringed together but from the widening of his eyes, he mostly likely understood.

“You do?”

You nod with pink dusting your cheeks, your fingers fiddling with the ends of your blouse. You’re prepared to get rejected, maybe even move back to Europe and never show your face to him again. And if not, at least you could quit the manager position to avoid any future confrontations with him.

“I like you too, Y/N,” he replies softly, but it was definitely audible in the quiet gym.

And if all else fails- wait what? This time, it’s your turn to look at him wide-eyed, processing what he just said.

“Y/N! Did you leave me for your boyfriend?!” The doors burst open with Lev boisterously shouting, Yaku walking calmly behind him with a twitching eyebrow.

You backpedal away from Kenma, dropping the switch in surprise and you scramble to pick it up, saying a stream of apologies to him, wiping away the dust and checking for any cracks.

Yaku, being more aware of the mood, kicks the back of Lev’s knees, adding a smack to the back of the head for good measure, hissing, “Shut up, you idiot!”

You make eye contact with Kenma before bursting into giggles, him just letting out a snort. You’re just glad you managed to confess before Lev could confess for you.

[1 New Message]

Kenma: wanna beat the next level after practice? you can come over to my house for dinner

You: yes! i’d love to!

131 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

Text

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fic #fanfic #prompt #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #growing back together #userreese #i think thats what you meant when you said to tag you????#gravity ♥️ 🌅 🥖

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ferie-anon · 4 years ago

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Hey Swettie 🙃 I don't know if you take request but, if you did, can I please get astrology ship with ateez/straykids? Im taurus sun, leo moon, pisces sun, aries venus, aquarius mars and taurus mercury. Thank you soo much and have a wonderful day💛

(Top right picture: "I’ll love the genuine things, the truth, the real feelings, and myself" )

Hiii, first I’ll do Ateez since currently two ships request in one ask is a bit much for me. Here’s your analysis of your placements~ (You can request for straykids when I reopen my ship asks if you want) Okay so you have taurus sun with pisces moon and leo rising after clarification of your placements, and wow can i just say u must be quite the lovable pretty human being 🥺. Taurus sun you are grounded and there is an inherent desire for productivity or routinely manner when you implement your efforts such as your blog managing for example, I notice you consistently or do a bundle or a bunch of asks for the moodboards and then post them all at the same time or in a frequent but not everyday manner. Your work ethic is quite admirable and it also partially stems from your leo rising, these natives with this placement are quite active with their individual interests and opinions/goals, working silently hard or loyal towards their objective. And then your pisces moon allows you to be able to interpret emotions and feelings in different ways, the tangible and untangible. It also makes sense how well put your moodboards are and how accurate they are with the embodied moods :3. Your pisces moon is able to discern these emotions or vibes and they can channel this at time in numerous ways, creatively, to help others in a therapeutic way, and etc. Aslo with your placements general, you may be friendly or very down-to earth to others, empathic (like an empathic listener for example) and friendly but also have quite solid self individuality and well balanced management of your personal and other needs. But I only got to half of your placements 💖✨ I’ll talk about your taurus mercury and aries venus now.

Woah see here is where your individuality could be more heightened. With taurus mercury, you are not afraid to say your honest opinions, rather it would be better or the only option to hear the truth or genuine thoughts than shield with only pretentious superficial words of comforts, ofc you genuinely want the best for ur loved ones and all, and comfort and support is natural, however filtering the reality from your friend is only going to hurt them than rather benefit them so. You’re quite blunt but in a subtle way, its not like you want to let others know you are a blunt and honest person before convo, but simply they realized this fact afterwards. Your aries venus is also quite bold or affectionate, your physical expression of love or care for friends and partner/family etc is warm and obvious to them. These natives with their venus in aries can get their emotions quite strongly at times to their important ones, you sorta give me a love warrior goddess sorta vibe but more controlled/calm. You love with sincerity and passion, but also try to not lose yourself for others. You have aquarius mars oooh, you strive for new and mental stimulating ideas or topics that you are interested in, this could range from hobbies or crafts that involve your interests. Your aquarius mars can be quite fixated as the sign aquarius is also a fixed sign (the modality is a fixed sign) so you may consistently work in your field of interests, but sometimes you try not to put heavy pressure on yourself too much to reach your goals as your motivations are consistent but you aren’t rushing yourself too much, preferring to work at ur own pace becuz u will get there~

In Ateez... your match is san!

Omgg san has a cancer sun with taurus moon, he has water and earth in his sun and moon similar to yours, and with him having the same sign in his moon as your sun (Taurus). There is an immediate emotional understanding, and easier opening up to each other. Idk why but San and you have such similar dynamics, you both would be the warmest and down to earth chaotic pair?? San with his cancer sun is always ready to help and pours his heart into everything, his love for his members and fans, and passion when dancing lol. (Satanic san~) Your pisces moon would feel comforted and safe with his cancer sun, as you seek for someone to not judge your emotional vulnerability/sensitivity and San being consoling and having a non-judgemental soothe to him, bingo. You both would have similar beliefs and point of view at times, which would relate to an immediate click. The first time you met each other, it was like two fireflies flickering towards each other. You weren’t close to him at first, but you were aware of his presence from the first encounter, and soon you both planned subtley how to approach each other more often~

Alright a delve at his taurus moon, San is loyal, self-consistent to his ideals and perspectives, and more inclined to familiarity. With his taurus moon, San is always ready to be there for his members, family, and close ones. He is also a bit solidified in his own goals and self views, sometimes not wavering from ofher opinions till he sees proven true. I can say that with your taurus sun, you would appreciate his grounded ways and calm but warm nature. Your pisces moon connects well with his cancer sun, as both are water signs and have a easier time reciprocating and processing emotions. (So San can easily comfort you when you may be feeling down or experiencing emotional turmoil, he may know what to say or do when comforting like hugs or soothing affirmations, it’s everything the opposite of awkwardness) I think San may find your softness and sensitivity cute and understanding, that you can also be an ambitious or strong individual but also have a soft spot.

Next up San has a leo mercury, and here’s where his chaotic energy will be talked about lol. San is obviously the opposite of calmness when he is naturally having fun and interacting with his members by being himself, he is quite creative and a loud eye-catching speaker. (You don’t need to be told twice he’s probs a living speaker in the dorms wildin) San’s way of communicating may be a little different from your taurus mercury, as your placement tones are more focused on maintaining a calm and chill vibe, while San could be too hyper at times. However, your aries venus would definitely appreciate his energetic actions and manner, both having fun engaging activities. Also San’s mercury in leo and your taurus mercury are similar in a sense they both are vocal or stand clear to their opinions and views. You both won’t hesitate to be honest and there will be better mutual trust becuz of this. And despite different perspectives at times, you both may find the other point of view interesting and it may not lead to frequent altercations and more of enlightening banter.

(This gif summarizes sorta a leo venus being overdramatic of their s/o in a loving manner or complimenting them lol, and its basically san)

And what do we have here, San’s venus is in leo also :> Leo says we meet again~ His way of showing affection can be more physical and expressive, he is definitely proud of his partner/s/o and will shower them with compliments. Venus in leo’s love are genuine and very deep, and with your aries venus (both signs in venus are fire) you definitely love the physical interaction and display of affection from San. Similarly, once close and in a relationship you aren’t shy from showing your love, sometimes you may be flirty or surprise-hug (or other skinship) San. Dates will be fun and probably have high-tension like you both are clearly enjoying the time together (ngl it might seem obvious to others in the same location as your date that you two are rlly lovey-dovey with each other) That being said you both always lift each other up, whether in terms of mood or personal feelings like insecurity at times or nervousness, you two could be each others number one supporter. His leo venus (and his mercury in leo) are opposite to your aquarius mars so there may be conflict or a clash between differing actions/methods and beliefs, but nonetheless you both end up learning from a wider point of view with each other and find the differences intriguing. (Also notably his leo venus and mercury is conjunct to your leo ascendant, so an instant chemistry or attraction mentally and physically is apparent :3)

Lastly, San’s mars is in scorpio. His scorpio mars is opposite to your taurus sun and taurus mercury (scorpio and taurus are sister signs aka opposing signs), but in this case this could further his interest and a spark between you two often. The first impression was impactful to him, and he may be more initiative to getting closer or being in your presence in general. His scorpio mars is quite devotive, in terms of personal goals and passions, and important things he considers in his life (aka his partner, friends, family, etc). Your aquarius mars is also pragmatic when needed but due to your natural logical sense, however you tend to be more loose with your scheduling and activeness. However, despite some differences between pace, you both are consistent and stable when you decide on something. His scorpio mars is also passionate, and with your aries venus the energy levels are able to be matched and complemented with the rest of both of your chart placements.

Overall, with both placements in synastry and analyzation, you both won’t get drained out by each other a lot able to change the direction of interaction between energetic to calm and serious, lighthearted conversations to an inherent empathic awareness during conversations. I was writing this, and I can’t help thinking wow they really match well together. Chemistry platonically and romantically, you both get along rlly well. In this ship pair, you two are the best friends and lover couple, close in general and caring about each other, and did I mention the charismatic ones? I bet yall would be the most openly charming couple .ㅅ.

#ask #astrology kpop ships #kpop ships #ateez #san #choi san #astrology

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sirro85-blog · 6 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs: Social Awkwardness.

Credit @rvnclw-impala-221b for this writing prompt

Humans, everything we think we know about them...they are never a binary thing. Humans don't fit our designations of them.

"They are a social creature, they pack-bond and have means of both verbal and non-verbal communication, their varied cultural heritage twinned with their large societal groups and their early socialising means humans are all excellent at communication and many numbers of social interactions."

That's what your text-books say, it's what mine said, it's what I've written in some of mine.

So let me tell you a story, let me tell you about Captain Wolf and how he went to war over a spilled drink and finger food.

Wolf and Panther were playing some sort of game, it involved alcohol, a lot of it and shouting. Occasionally someone got slapped. Panther gave a woop and leapt up to avoid a slap as a server arrived, food was placed on the table and they calmed down and started to eat. Wolf was gnawing on a tentacle and Panther was explaining the rules of poker to me while tossing individual seasoned nuts in the air and catching them in her mouth. A Telrell approached the table and in heavily accented human she hesitantly queried if the food the two were eating may perhaps have been ordered for the Telrell table.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Telrell they are remarkably human in appearance, diminutive green humans, bipedal with a single set of upper limbs, they have much larger eyes than humans and finer more delicate fearures, the green tint to their skin is related to the algae-based symbiote that resides in their tissue. Physiologically they have almost no similarities to humans. As a race they are less well known due to their mostly tentative and hesitant nature, no doubt for this Tellrell approaching a species such as the humans was a terrifying prospect.

Wolf and Panther were quick to apologise and offered to pay for a new order for the Telrell table or for the food they ordered to be sent to the Telrell, Princis the Telrell gave her thanks and walked away. Within a few minutes The four Telrell had walked across to our table and made to take the empty seats, Princis was making room on the table top as the server brought the rest of the food over.

"Thank you so much for the invitation to share your food, these are my associates Hunsam, Sidkek and Pearunt." Princis said happily, raising a glass.

Wolf and Panther stared at one another for a moment and then Wolf awkwardly got to his feet, "ah yes, please join us and take a seat, uh, I am uhhh Captain Wolf and this is Sergeant Pants...Chloe, uh we call her Panther but she is named Chloe." Wolf blinked and then remembered me, "this is Professor Gleax, he is doing a study into human mating rituals and has joined our unit because he's...some sort of pervert."

Familiar with human sense of humour I laughed and explained, "I am researching humans in depth as their entry in the galactic encyclopedia is often proving to be inaccurate, please do not find offence in Wolf's statement he is teasing me as we are friends."

Wolf and Panther laughed as they went to move their chairs to give the Telrell room, as he did so Wolf raised a hand in the human gesture of "waving things away."

"No, I meant no offence, I like to tease," his arm, attached to his inebriated body flailed and hit Princis' drink soaking the Telrell.

"Oh fuck, oh balls, I'm sorry, shit." Wolf said realising his error.

To the horror of the two humans Princis burst into tears and cried, an action I did not know the Telrell shared with humans.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I can get you one, I...Oh..." Wolf trailed off and turned to Panther, I had witnessed Wolf attack a dozen enemy armed only with blades, but I had never seen him look so helpless.

Panther leant forward, "what's wrong Princis? Are you ok?"

"I'm sorry, it's just all been so hard, it's been so difficult and then our food was sent to the wrong place, and then when my drink was spilled, it was just too much." Princis sobbed.

"Oh, uhh," said Wolf.

"Well..." murmured Panther.

"Everything has gotten so out of hand," Princis wailed, her associates looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" Wolf tried reaching a tentative hand out to the Telrell.

"You see, we lost our land, we had a small holding," Princis sobbed.

"Lost to who?" Panther asked.

"To the Xhost rebels, they forced us out, they burned our crops and threatened us," Princis sniffed.

Panther and Wolf shared a look and then Wolf said a little desperately, "uhh I wish there was something I could do."

"You do? That's so kind," Princis said looking up at them with tear filled eyes.

"YYYes of course...I-I-w-we'd love to help," Wolf stammered and Panther nodded, never had I seen these two look so uncomfortable.

Hunsam and Sidkek both appeared to be performing the Telrell version of smiling, a sort of pout. Princis looked at the two humans and gave a small gesture I'm not familiar with. "If you think you can help," she said.

"I'm sure we can do something," Wolf mumbled looking like a man that wanted to run for the door.

Pearunt spoke Telrell and Princis lit up at whatever was suggested, "Oh yes, yes, you are humans and human soldiers, you can drive the Xhost out."

Wolf looked at Panther and the two of them looked aghast, "uhh," Wolf gave a helpless look at Panther, "uhh," he shrugged helplessly at Panther, "uhh uh sure, we can uhh try, umm."

"Oh, oh thank you," Princis beamed at the human couple, she stood and gripped Wolf's hand, "we shall go, we shall go and get our things."

As the Telrell left the tavern Wolf turned to Panther and hissed, "how the fuck am I gonna explain this to Kovac."

"I don't know but promise you'll let me be there when you do," laughed Panther finishing her drink.

Humans can be great communicators, they can be, or they can be awkward socially inept morons and tinge honest I wouldn't have them any other way.

#humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #space australia #space orcs #earth is a deathworld #earth is awesome #earth is weird #earth is space australia

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nowplayingblog-main · 6 years ago

Link

Chapter 2 is finally here!

read under the cut

...”C’mon kid, just a few more steps”...

...”I know, I know it’s too hot”...

...”Shhh... I know it hurts, I know”...

...”You’re gonna be alright, Peter, It’ll be okay”...

Peter’s eyes snapped open to the blinding lights of a white room. He felt his face scrunch underneath a plastic mask placed over his nose and mouth, blowing soothingly cold air across his face. His eyes had squeezed shut in an effort to shield him from the harmful light above his eyes.

“Can we have the lights dimmed, please?” a feminine voice called out.

The orange glow behind his eyelids dimmed, and Peter braved blinking a little, to let his eyes adjust to the room. It was blurry at first, and while the darkness soothed his eyes, it made it hard to see the room. Then, slowly, everything came into focus, and Peter eyes settled on the woman who was sitting at his bedside.

She was clearly a doctor of some form. She wore a long white lab coat over a pale pink scrubs, and a stethoscope around her neck. Her skin was a few shades darker than his, and she had long, medium brown, wavy hair. Peter remembered all those medical dramas his mom watched before their trip to Afghanistan; this lady would have fit right into the cast.

“Hello, Peter,” The woman said. “My name is Dr. Sullivan.”

“Hi,” He responded meekly, his voice weak from lack of use and muffled by the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Dr. Sullivan gave him a small smile. “It’s okay to take that off, if you want. Just don’t leave it off for too long. You should be fine, but I’m not quite willing to risk anything yet.”

The coordination in Peter’s arms was lacking extremely, but eventually his left arm found the mask on his face and pulled it away as gently as possible.

“Where am I?” His voice was just barely above a whisper.

“You’re at Thousand Oaks Surgical Hospital, in Malibu California,” Dr. Sullivan explained. “You and Mr. Stark were found two day ago in the middle of a desert in Afghanistan. You suffered a heat stroke shortly before you were found by the United States Air Force. Not to mention an infection due to your various wounds, including the bullet that was still lodged in your stomach. The surrounding skin healed remarkably fast, most likely due to your altered DNA.”

Peter’s heart rate picked up in fear. His monitor beeped loudly, and blood pulsed in his ears. She knew? She knew.

Dr. Sullivan raised her hands in surrender. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. I can’t really. Patient privacy, as well as the fact that Tony Stark himself had me and my entire team sign a non-disclosure agreement. We only know because we need to know, Peter.”

“Why do you need to know?” Peter insisted, his voice cracking. He wasn't exactly sure why he was so defensive about this. He just felt embarrassed, ashamed, almost dirty. Like everything about him now, after what those... those... monsters did to him. He had always felt that way but his emotions were muted under the influence of the drugs they kept him on. Besides, in the cave no one was there to judge him, until Mr. Stark was brought in.

“We need to know so that we know how to take care of you, Peter. You’re enhanced, we need to know that so that we don’t try to treat you like a normal person, because it wouldn’t work the same way with you -”

“I am a normal person!” Peter was almost at the brink of screaming, and, god, his voice sounded awful.

“I know that, Peter,” Dr. Sullivan tried to calm him. “But biologically, you are different, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you because of that, that’s why we need to know -”

“You don’t! There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m normal! So what if my DNA is different now! I’m still normal! I’m still normal!”

Peter didn’t acknowledge much beyond the screaming. He didn’t notice the doctors filtering into the room as his heart monitors went crazy. He didn’t notice them shouting orders, didn’t even notice the needle filled with an enhanced sedative. All he knew was lab coats. Lab coats meant pain, and god he never wanted pain again. Haven't they done enough? They already changed him forever. Why were the lab coats back to hurt him? Peter was supposed to be safe! He was supposed to be safe! He was supposed to be -

...white lab coats...

...a man with graying hair leans over him...

...he’s being restrained, he can’t move, the drugs altering his sense of reality...

...“- the world is not ready for him-”...

...“Sleep tight, my little pest”...

Peter woke up later that day. The sky was dark outside his window, and his eyes took less time to adjust to his surroundings, the voices of his nightmare echoed in his head.

The oxygen mask was over his nose again, and Peter reached up to pull it down, not realizing he had now caught the attention of Mr. Stark, who was sitting where Dr. Sullivan was earlier that day.

“Hey kid,” He said as a means of greeting.

“Hey,” Peter said plainly.

“Heard you had a little freak out earlier.”

Peter blinked. “I did?”

“Dr. Sullivan said it was a panic attack. You were breathing too fast, and you kept yelling at the staff until you got so worked up they had to sedate you.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologized. He remembered now, and he was recalled the look on every panicked doctors face while Peter did nothing but yell and scream. Deep guilt stirred inside his chest.

“Don’t apologize,” Tony said. “She said it was expected, considering everything you’ve gone through in the recent past. I still don’t understand what triggered it though-”

Peter opened his mouth, whether it was to tell Tony what had triggered him, or to refute that he had been triggered at all, Peter himself would never know, because Tony cut him off. “Nevermind. I’m not willing to put you through that again if you got so worked up about it the last time.”

They sat in awkward silence for a moment.

“I held a press conference today,” Tony announced.

“What’s a press conference?” Peter asked innocently.

“It’s a big, boring meeting where I can tell reporters what I want them to hear. Helps me control what information gets out to the public,” Tony gave him a strange look. “How is it that you can help me create a miniaturized ARC reactor, and a mechanized suit of armor in a cave with nothing but scraps, when you’re - how old are you?”

“Thirteen”

“Really? God, I feel old. Anyway, how is it that you can do all that, but you don’t know what a press conference is?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t think press conferences have a whole lot to do with mechanics, Mr. Stark.”

“True,” Tony shrugged. “I guess you and I were just raised in extremely different circumstances. What did you say you’re parents were? Geneticists?”

Peter’s smile, which has been slowly pushing his cheeks upward suddenly fell. He nodded mutely.

Mr. Stark winced. “Sorry, kid. Probably wasn’t a good idea to bring that up.”

They were silent for a while after that. Peter focused on the way the individual threads on his blanket were woven together.

“You’ll be living with me from now on,” Tony said softly. “I promise not to bring it up again if you don’t want me too, but we looked into your family, Pete, and you were right. You don’t have any surviving relatives. But I’m not going to let you slide into that broken government system of tossing poor kids around. Not after everything you and I have gone through, especially after...” Tony trailed off. “After your DNA has been altered so much...” he said carefully, eyeing Peter for a reaction before carrying on. “I just don’t think it’s the best idea, and neither does anybody hear at the hospital, so I signed for temporary guardianship, and you’ll be living with me from now on. So there’s that.”

Peter nodded, not looking up from where he stared at the blanket, playing with the material between his fingers.

“Well, I won’t bore you any longer, is there some kind of movie that you really like? It might help you to take your mind off of everything.” Tony stood up and walked over to a pile of DVD cases, still wrapped in plastic as though they had just been purchased. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I got a little bit of everything.

Tony handed Peter a stack to shift through, until Peter felt his heart lift upon seeing his favorite movie of all time - Star Wars: A New Hope.

“I knew you had to be a bit of nerd,” Tony mused, standing up to insert the DVD.

They didn’t talk for the entire run of the movie, but Tony didn’t leave Peter’s side either, which Peter felt was enough.

Peter was signed out of the hospital the next day.

“Shouldn’t he be here a couple more days?” Tony questioned. When we brought him in a few days ago you insisted that he was in critical condition, and now he’s right as rain?”

Dr. Sullivan shrugged. “His tests came back clear of any infection, and his stats have been within a healthy range for over 24 hours now. He is completely fine to leave. Welcome to taking care of an enhanced.”

Tony tilted his head. “And how do you know so much about enhanced people?”

“I have my sources. Have a good day Mr. Stark.”

And with that, Dr. Sullivan whisked out of the room with a flourish of her lab coat, and disappeared from Peter’s line of vision. Which was fine in Peter’s opinion,. Since his anxiety levels had been through the roof ever since she had stepped in the room.

Peter had begun to notice that when the medical professionals were around, he couldn’t seem to keep himself calm. His palms felt sweaty, and the rate of his breathing began to pick up. If they came too close to him without warning, or if they touched him, Peter would flinch, as though he was expecting to be hurt.

Peter himself found this ridiculous. He knew the doctors weren't there to hurt him, they were there to help him. He had never been afraid of doctors in his life, not before the cave.

He always felt better when Mr. Stark was around, however, though he couldn’t quite explain why. He made him feel safe, even though Peter knew that him even being around Tony made the man feel uncomfortable, at least at first. He guessed it had to do with the fact that Mr. Stark hadn’t ever had to deal with someone Peter’s age. Besides, now that they were free, there wasn’t much that they could talk about. They didn’t have a lot of common ground, at least not any that they knew about, and they didn’t have a common goal or a common enemy anymore. Their relationship had grown while they were in the cave, but to what extent?

To his credit, Tony always did seem to ease up after talking to Peter for a while, and eventually the two did find some common interests.

“Just you wait until we get to the house, kid.” Tony had told them on their ride to his Malibu home. Tony was driving, which Peter found somewhat surprising. “You’ll love the lab. It has so many fun toys. My bots are there, though they’re somewhat antiques at this point - those stupid pieces of scrap metal.”

“Why don’t you just get rid of them?” Peter asked.

Mr. Stark turned to him, with a frown on his face, which quickly melted into a smile. “I couldn’t do that! I love them too much. Just don’t tell them I said that.”

When they arrived at Tony's mansion, Peter was shocked at the sheet size of it. Growing up in New York City, Peter had seen some pretty big buildings. Correction. Some pretty tall buildings. Peter didn't think that Mr. Stark's house was more than three stories, but it stretched across the shore of the Pacific almost endlessly. Peter could wrap his head around why anyone would need a house that was this big.

The inside of the house felt like a maze. After the walked in, Peter found it hard to keep his bearings. Once they moved away from the door, he couldn't tell which way was which, and he had the feeling that if Peter lost Mr. Stark in one of the winding corridors, he could be lost in the house forever.

When they finally reached a room that Peter recognized to be some sort of living room or sitting room, there was a woman with strawberry blonde hair wearing a white blouse and a gray pencil skirt, sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.

“...allow me to introduce you to the new Stark Industries business plan!” The voice on the TV said, followed by the sound of something shattering. “Look, that's a weapons company that doesn't make weapons!”

The woman looked up, noticing them, and shut off the TV with a static click. “Welcome home, Mr. Stark.”

“Hello, Ms. Potts,” Tony said, stepping in front of Peter. “I'll be in my lab for the rest of the day, if you need me.”

“Alright, I'll be sure to come get you. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That'll be all Ms. Potts.”

Then Tony turned and motioned for Peter to follow him. They went downstairs, down a winding, circular staircase, until they reached the bottom floor, which left to a room behind a big, glass wall, with a glowing pin pad by the door.

“I'll take you to see your room in a second, kid, I just thought I would show you the lab first.”

The door opened, and Tony held it open to let Peter in. He walked in and was greeted by an echoing voice.

“Unidentified personnel.” Said a voice seemingly coming from everywhere. Peter jumped at the unexpected noise, looking around for where it may have been coming from.

“Oh, calm down JARVIS,” Tony said, “He’s with me, and he’s going to be around here quite a bit. Log him as Peter...” Mr. Stark turned to look at him. “Parker right? I thought I saw that name of the guardianship forms.”

Peter nodded silently. Tony spent the next half hour showing Peter around the lab, introducing him to his robots, and showing him how to operate certain types of equipment. Mr. Stark rambled on and on, talking about everything under the sun, while Peter remained uncharacteristically quiet, thinking back to what he had heard in the living room.

“You’re a quiet thing today, aren’t you?” Tony remarked. “Haven’t spoken a word since we got to the house. Usually you’re talking a mile a minute.”

Peter turned to look at the man. He stayed silent.

“You got something on your mind?”

Peter took a deep breath. “What... What was Ms. Potts watching? When we came in?”

“One of those broadcasts or TV shows that advises people on where to invest their money.”

“It said you were a weapons company that doesn’t make weapons.”

Tony sighed. “That’s because as of a couple of days ago, Stark Industries announced - or rather, I announced, quite unexpectedly - that we were shutting down our weapons department.”

Peter blinked. “What made you decide to do that?”

“You did,” The mechanic sat down and began fiddling with some sort of circuit board. “You told me in the cave that weapons won’t just stop working when someone I don’t want to have them gets ahold of them. I realized then that I had become part of a broken system,” Tony looked up at him. “I don’t want to make weapons anymore. Stark Industries whole mission is to make the world a better, safer, and more peaceful place. Making weapons isn’t working. We can do better. I just need to figure out what I want to do.”

Peter smiled softly. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Well, I initially wanted to look more into ARC reactor technology,” He tapped on the glowing blue light under his shirt for emphasis. “But Obie shot that down, he’s still married to the idea that we’re only good for making weapons. Then I thought... maybe...” Tony eyed Peter carefully. “Maybe if I couldn’t control who had the guns... I could make sure they were in the rights hands...my own...”

The teen tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tony pulled up a couple of displays, maneuvering things through the air on his holographic projections, before pulling up an image of a suit of armor. Peter looked at it for a few moments, before he began to recognize certain elements of it. His eyes widened in shock. Yes, Peter definitely recognized this. How could he not? He had helped build this.

“I’m changing up the design a little, trying to change the form to increase the aerodynamics to help it to sustain prolonged flight - kinda similar to the way we’re shaping cars to be able to move faster. The original model was never meant to fly for very long, that’s why it ended up crashing so badly in the desert, I’m trying to figure out how to use less energy to achieve flight, because with our last model it was a bit overkill -”

“Hold on,” Peter cut him off. “You’re building another suit?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me. You did so well the last time.”

“No, I mean,” Peter sighed, “You’re going to stop making weapons for your company, but you’re going to make an even bigger weapon for yourself.”

“It’s not like that, kid.” Tony got up from where he was sitting a moved to stand beside Peter. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a method of keeping the peace.”

“By having a bigger stick than the other guy?”

Tony paused. “Where did you hear that?”

“I read it in a magazine.”

“In the hospital?”

“I got bored.”

Mr. Stark turned to face him. “Listen, kid. This thing isn’t meant to be a weapon. Or, maybe it is, but I’m going to be the one in the suit. I’m going to make sure no one else gets their hands on this, and I’m only going to go after the people who hurt others. This suit isn’t going to have big guns or cause massive explosions like the first one did.”

Peter was struggling to understand. “So, you want to become a superhero?”

Tony blinked. “What? No.”

“You just said that you wanted to go after the bad guys and protect people.”

“What? Kid, that’s not - Well... I guess maybe it is. Sure, let’s go with that. I’m going to become a superhero.”

Peter smiled. “Well, in that case, I’m in.”

The billionaire chuckled and looked back at his designs for the new suit. “I should have known all I had to say to get you on board was something extremely dorky like ‘I’m going to become a superhero’”

“I just think that you made something that could really help people, or could really hurt people,” Peter explained. “My dad used to tell me about his brother, Ben. He died when my dad was in college, but he used to say ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ It’s super cheesy, but I think it’s the truth. You have a lot of power, Mr. Stark, and you want to use it to help people. That’s something I can get behind.”

Tony smiled at the kid. “You know kid, you’re pretty wise for a thirteen-year-old.”

“Well, I’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah kid. Too much.”

Later that day, Tony showed Peter his room. It was a bit of a blank slate. A guest room which hadn’t really been converted to become Peter’s room, but Mr. Stark said that he could decorate it however he wanted to.

Now, Peter was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed felt too soft, like he was laying on marshmallows. He supposed that was because He had gotten used to a beat down mattress on a wire frame, and even after that he had been stuck in a hospital bed, which was a huge improvement, but nowhere near the comfort levels Peter found in this bed.

Ever since waking up after their escape, Peter found it hard to sleep. Before, Peter had been on drugs virtually all the time. Sleeping wasn’t something he had done on his own for quite some time, he always just dozed off after receiving another dose.

His lack of sleep wasn’t the only thing that the drugs did to him. Walking around, and viewing the world was completely different now. Everything was so much more vibrant and vivid than Peter had ever remembered it being. The world was louder, and brighter, and more three-dimensional.

It wasn’t as though Peter wanted the drugs, in fact it kind of surprised him that he didn’t find himself addicted to the substance because of how much he was forced to use it. He suspected the doctors had weaned him off of it while he was still unconscious. It was just that everything felt so different now. Like he was living in a dream. A happy dream that couldn’t possibly be his reality.

There was no way Peter could truly be free. No way he could have been taken in by the infamous Tony Stark. It just wasn't possible.

And yet, here he was. Free at last.

And at some point that night while he stared up at the ceiling, Peter had the most peaceful night of sleep in his life.

#fanfiction #fanfic #my works #fic #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spiderman #spider-man #tony stark and peter parker #gdkp #guns don't kill people

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rudennotgingr · 7 years ago

Text

Don't Get it Twisted

Prompt: Rising to a challenge.

Ten x Rose. Rated: K, maybe slight teen?

……….

This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea. An incredibly, undoubtedly bad idea. Of all the bad ideas he’d ever had, this one was probably the worst.

It had started innocently enough, as most of his bad ideas did. Merely spending a lazy day inside the TARDIS as the ship spun leisurely through the vortex. The Doctor had spent the morning tinkering beneath the console while Rose did…Rose things. She slept.

And slept.

By the time she was finally awake and showered, he was a jumbled ball of pent up energy and excitement. He was ready to agree to anything she wanted to do, as long as it was something they could do together. Which wasn’t really outside of the norm, but that wasn’t the point. This time he was desperate. Humans spent entirely too much time sleeping and Rose seemed to be no exception to the rule. If anything, she over indulged.

Rose had suggested a game day and he had happily obliged. Together they had gathered snacks to take to the library, where the TARDIS had already provided an impressive supply of games.

They played Sorry, UNO, Chutes and Ladders, War, and a few non-human invented ones. He had stopped keeping track of who won. He was having entirely too much fun watching Rose smile and laugh to care, but he knew they were roughly even.

Then it had happened.

The next box Rose had pulled from the pile was white and covered in red, blue, yellow, and green dots. The title was written in bold, threatening red letters.

Twister.

His stomach dropped to the floor and his hearts lodged in his throat. His palms became suspiciously warm and slightly sweaty. Curse this stupid body and its stupid bloody reactions to any and every thing his companion did. There was no way they’d be able to play this game without it ending in disaster and embarrassment.

Rose ran her fingers gingerly over the top of the box. “I’ve always wanted to play this game,” she said wistfully. She looked up from the box, all perfect smiles and innocence. “What do you say, Doctor?”

He tugged on his ear, trying to come up with a reasonable argument as to why they should very much not play the game in question. A reason that did not involve discussing the necessary close proximity of their bodies that the game would facilitate.

“It’s really not that fun,” he replied with a frown, hoping he sounded just enough unimpressed to deter her, but not overly so as to hurt her feelings.

“So you’ve played it before?”

“Once. In my fourth body. The game actually lasted a good while.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The scarf won in the end. Always meant to try for a rematch.”

Rose shook her head, laughing softly.

“What?”

“To anyone else, you sound completely mad. You know that?”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not talking to anyone else, isn’t it?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and hoped she would let the whole thing go.

“You know,” she began. “If you’re afraid of losing…you can tell me. I won’t tease.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry. Afraid of losing?”

“Yeah. You know…the opposite of winning.”

“You’re mighty confident for someone who has never played the game before.”

“Beginners’ luck is on my side.”

“Even with beginner’s luck, which is a myth by the way,” he retorted, pointing his finger at her, “You wouldn’t win.”

“Prove it.”

He floundered, opened his jaw once then snapped it shut. There was a challenging fire in her eyes and if he didn’t know any better he’d say that Rose Tyler knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

He should have tucked tail and graciously accepted defeat.

Instead he found himself shucking his jacket and staring her down with misplaced determination. “Challenge accepted.”

That was how he had gotten himself into his current position. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie hung loosely about his neck from being repeatedly tugged on in nervousness.

However, the real problem, as he knew it would be, was Rose.

The Doctor was in a sort of crab walk position; arms beneath him, right hand on yellow and left hand on blue. His body stretched down over the mat, left foot on blue, one empty dot between it and his left hand. His right leg strained a bit further, planted on a green blob. Rose’s left foot occupied the green dot directly above his left foot, followed by her left hand. This put her in a crouched position beside him. That wasn’t too bad.

Even with her right hand on the yellow spot beneath him, her fingertips barely brushing his…not awful. They’ve held hands enough for that small touch to not be awkward or an obvious cause for discomfort.

Her right leg was the problem. Her right foot was on yellow.

On the one yellow dot that provided his own legs a bit of space.

She could have put her foot on a different spot. Hell, she could have used the dot she was currently occupying but slid her leg under his to reach it.

Is that what she did?

No. Of course not.

She had bit her lip and stared directly at him as she swung her leg over his and planted her foot between his. Rose Tyler was partially straddling his leg.

The Doctor desperately tried to focus on anything else. Anything other than the heat radiating from her thigh. Other than the occasional shaky breath she took. Other than her increased heart rate he had detected two turns ago.

He swallowed hard. Since it was just the two of them, the had opted to take individual turns instead of both going for the same color and body part at the same time. It was his turn.

Left hand on red.

He swore under his breath. Not exactly what he was hoping for. He slid his hand over and down one, affording his torso the ability to ever so slightly arch away from her.

Her turn.

Right hand on red.

Oh, no. No. No. No.

Rose looked at him, a mix of uncertainty and excitement shining in her eyes. Her gaze flicked between him and the row of red dots to his left, far away from her. There was no way this was going to end in his favor. His limbs began to shake, not from strain but from nerves.

Picking her right hand up from the mat, she reached over him. There was a pause, her arm a mere inch above his torso, as she debated on which red spot she was going to aim for.

She pulled her arm back and bit her lip. The Doctor furrowed his brow, watching her carefully.

Maybe this had been a bad idea in more ways than one. Did she just now realize the possible awkward positions they could find themselves in? He wouldn’t deny that a small part of him had been thrilled about the prospect. Alright, maybe more than a small part, he admitted to himself. But she more than likely did not share in those feelings. Rose was, in his mind, either indifferent to the idea or completely opposed. He should offer her a way out, that would be the gentleman thing to do.

He opened his mouth to speak, catching her gaze just before she launched herself towards…he didn’t even know what.

Her weight and momentum caught him off guard. They collapsed in a heap, a loud smack echoing the room as her hand slapped down on the mat somewhere above his head.

“I made it,” she huffed, her breath tickling the side of his neck.

The Doctor twisted his head so he could see what she was talking about, using all his willpower to focus on this one small task so he could ignore the way her body was pinning him to the mat and the way their legs were tangled together.

Rose did indeed have her right hand on red. The red spot that was in the very corner, the red spot that had clearly been the farthest away from her and the hardest to reach.

“Rose,” he croaked out. “Why on earth would you do that? There was no way you could have reached that safely. Surely even you could see that?” A thought struck him and he broke out into a grin. “Ha! I won!”

Rose shifted so that she was staring down at him. A shudder ran through his body, from his head to his toes, every cell becoming hyper aware of just how close she was.

“Say that again,” she requested softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I won?” He knew he sounded unsure and breathless for no reason. He was trying to remember why he should care and why he should most definitely not try and kiss her.

“Hm,” she tilted her head, pretending to consider. She dipped her head so that their noses were practically touching, his breath caught in his throat. “From my point of view, I won,” she whispered.

“You…you…you caused the fall,” he stammered.

“Yes.”

“Wait, you did that on purpose?”

“You’re on the ground aren’t you? I would have preferred a role reversal but—“

The invoked thought of pinning Rose to the ground snapped the last of his restraint. Tilting his chin upward, he silenced her with a chaste kiss. It was nothing more than the soft touch of his lips against hers and the sharp intake of her breath through her nose. It was perfect.

The Doctor broke the kiss just as she began to relax into it. As much as he wanted to find out what a good snog with Rose Tyler was like, he needed to be sure that this was what she wanted.

“That alright,” he asked softly, closely watching her features for any trace of doubt or discomfort.

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah.”

A wave of giddiness swept through him and he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her.

No matter how she tried to spin what had happened in the game, he had definitely come out the winner.

#fic and chips #dwfic #ten x rose #doctor x rose #fic: I made this #writing #don't get it twisted

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