#anyway these two kids found a home within each other and I cannot explain to you how much this means to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

genshin-impacted · 4 years ago

Text

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (3/3)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: Seelie!Reader, GN!Reader, Diluc/Reader, Mondstadt people interaction + Mondstadt Archon Quest, mild violence/fighting description and mentions of blood, Diluc POV briefly, mainly reader!POV

Summary: Oftentimes you find yourself wondering about your life before becoming a seelie, but with Diluc by your side, you don’t let yourself dwell on the long-gone past-- not when Diluc offers you affection and a tenderness that no one else is privy to.

But on moonless nights, you let yourself wish upon a star.

(And sometimes, in this world ruled by the Gods and their stars, wishes are granted.)

Alternatively: Diluc has never asked you or needed you to change for him to love you.

[Part 2]

(thanks for the love for this fic! here is the final addition)

Diluc breathes out and sees the fog it makes in the frigid air of Dragonspine. The world continues to remind him that he’s lucky to have his Pyro vision, and again he’s inclined to agree that it’s a useful tool indeed. He cannot melt the snow that falls on the peaks of these mountains, but even he must admit that his flames have served him well in this icy winterland-- until it doesn’t.

His phoenix burns through ruin guards and hunters alike, along with the icy foothold beneath him, and he falls into this cavern with no way up. He thinks it’s ironic that he’s the one that led himself into this predicament and attests it to your influence as his trouble-finding seelie.

Diluc huffs as he dusts off the snow from his shoulders and continues further into the hole he fell into, leaving tracks wherever he can so that you can find him. He knows better than anyone what you can do, and he knows that you cannot find him if he doesn’t leave clues.

It is neither a surprising nor disappointing revelation to him. Diluc has always known that there is nothing special that binds the two of you together-- and perhaps that is why he cherishes what the two of you have. There is no contract, no string of fate, no hand of god that has put the two of you together or convinced the other to stay. You have chosen to stay with Diluc, and Diluc has chosen to let your presence change his life bit by bit.

Ever since coming back to Mondstadt, he has slowly grown more accustomed to working with other people, though with your appearance, his change has been accelerated. For with every adventure you drag him into, he meets new people, forming different teams. He’s helped Razor handle his broadsword better, and now he visits him ever so often to let him spar to his content. He let his stars be read by Mona, despite his initial hesitance (apparently, you are very into astrology), and can now see the constellations form above him much more clearly. And while he has never seen the need to be closer to his god, Venti sees the both of you more often outside of the tavern, and he sees a glimpse of Barbatos within the wind-weaving bard.

You are a comforting presence: straightforward, easy to read, and compassionate. And he does not resist, much like everyone else, when you twirl your way into his heart. It is no longer surprising for him to understand that he does not need to be alone on the dark side of dawn when you have chosen to accompany him.

Speaking of choice, Diluc thinks irritably, wringing out the water from his hair. How did he agree to wander around Dragonspine of all places? He must have been caught up in the logistics of the experiment itself as well as your easy agreement. Diluc is admittedly the only person that understands your every nuance (or, well, most of it; some twirls are lost in translation), but even he cannot quite decipher what you want to take from this experiment of Albedo’s.

When you find him-- which you will, he will ask you, and he thinks you will tell him as best as you can. For someone that cannot speak, you are the most honest individual in his life, which is something he has repeatedly found endearing and refreshing.

Diluc climbs up the side of a cliff near the camp, only to see Albedo and Sucrose discussing at the edge of it. He briefly wonders if the experiment has ended, but when he does not see your light between the two of them, his breath hitches in the momentary panic he finds all too familiar to when he lost you the first time.

Albedo spots him before he can speak. “Master Diluc, I’m relieved to find that you’re safe," he says briefly, and Diluc can at least respect how quickly the alchemist gets to the point, because he continues quickly. “Your seelie left to go find you before we could assess the situation.” He sighs as Sucrose frantically hands Diluc a towel to dry himself and a seat. “You gave them quite the scare, disappearing on us like that.”

“You mean they’re out there on their own right now?” Diluc presses, feeling his hackles raise.

“Yes. We’re going to go out to recount your steps-- undoubtedly, your seelie will be trying to find you--”

Diluc doesn’t need to hear anything else. He holds the towel to Sucrose who nervously puts her hands up, unsure on what to do. “I’ll go find them,” he says. “The experiment is finished now, right?”

“Do not go." Albedo sighs, and however Diluc thought of him before, it’s evident now that he is, above all else, frustrated with how things have turned out. “It’s my experiment and a miscalculation on my part. You should stay--”

“I’ll be fine--”

“Your vision does not make you impervious to the climates,” Albedo says calmly. He thinks he sees a gleam of cunning in Albedo’s eyes when he glares at the alchemist. “Besides, would your seelie be happy if you got yourself sick going to find them?” And Diluc cannot respond to that.

“That being said,” Albedo continues, pulling at his gloves. “I predict you will refuse to stay here permanently. As it’s my fault, I’ll provide you with at least a potent heating potion before you go. Please wait; it won’t take long.”

“...Thank you,” Diluc says, taking back his towel much to Sucrose’s relief. When he sees Albedo head off onto his alchemy table, he sighs and settles into his seat. Where could you have gone, he thinks, drying his hair. After leaving the waterfall, he had… climbed the clifftop. Perhaps you lost him there without any way to notice which way he went afterward, which was a mistake on his part. Perhaps he should--

Diluc pauses his train of thought and instinctively turns his head to the left where he sees you floating. And the relief, oh, the relief he feels when he sees you fly toward him makes smiling easy. “There you are. I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He swallows, beginning to breathe easy again. "I was worried," he admits, "I--" He stops abruptly when he looks up at you.

You are crying, and he almost does not know what to do.

He didn’t realize you could cry. Diluc isn’t sure if he can even call them tears-- these globby droplets that disappear when they fall off your body that, when Diluc brushes them away, does not make his gloves wet.

But he sweeps them away when they come anyways. “Hey,” he says tenderly, as you raise your voice from distress. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.” He cups your small orb-like body and listens to you as best as he can, sweeping his hand over your head and ears soothingly until your hiccup-like speech slows down to a halt.

“You found me,” he tells you firmly. “You found me.” He repeats himself until you are warm in his hands and his hair is dry, the towel left forgotten on the ground.

Even when you have long calmed down, he continues to look over his shoulder to watch as you converse with Sucrose. “Did you get what you were looking for?” Diluc asks the alchemist, who hands him the warming potions for any emergencies.

“Yes. Simply put, your mini seelie does not choose what it finds.” Albedo explains, “However, based on previous observations, they can hone in on things that are… otherworldly. You may be glad to confirm that you are, in fact, not otherworldly. And though this was not my intended result, I also would like to inform you that their attachment to you is out of their own volition…” Albedo watches in barely concealed amusement as Diluc glances over at you again. “Though, I’m sure you already knew this.” He clears his throat. “I would like to offer them future experimentation if they are willing.”

Diluc does his best not to look confused, but his pause gets the better of him. “Why are you asking me?”

Albedo only arches his brow and asks as a matter-of-fact, “Are you not each other’s keeper?” He continues without pause to quickly go over any logistics he has remaining, the details of Dragonspine (lest he fall into a pit again), before going over to talk to you briefly. Diluc wonders what the alchemist talked to you about but he decides to let the questions be asked later.

For now, you twirl up to him, beaming at him more brightly than usual, and he does not have it in him to say anything other than, “Let’s go home.”

.By the time the two of you arrive at the winery, it is dark. You do not hesitate to corral him into getting ready for sleep, and he indulges you by not protesting.

“What did you want to get out of the experiment today?” Diluc asks you, untying his hair and placing it onto his nightstand. Before he can finish his question, you bury yourself into his hair, and he thinks that your tweets and trills sound very much like laughter. He chuckles. “Avoiding the question, are you? How very unlike you,” he teases, and he knows you hear him when he looks into the mirror and sees you peek out from underneath the red and squeak indignantly.

“I’m kidding.” Diluc lifts his hair so you can climb out and face him. “You’re the most straightforward person I know,” he says fondly, and he briefly wonders when he has gotten so honest with himself, letting you know how he feels with the amount of emotion he puts into his words to you.

Sated, you flip around once before settling into his cupped hands, deep in thought. Diluc doesn’t quite understand how your mannerisms make your emotions so recognizable, but he imagines that if you had hands, they would be under your chin in a thinking pose.

He patiently waits for an answer, walking around his room and blowing out the lights. When he turns off the last one, you can only look up at him and let out a quiet coo-- an apology. His hands are already comforting you the moment after you answer him.

“It’s alright,” Diluc says. “I suppose it’s not exactly easy to explain that.” He adds on immediately, “And don’t apologize again. It’s fine.”

“I think I can understand why without you telling me,” he says, and if his voice is a little raw, he hopes it goes by unnoticed. “It’s hard, isn’t it-- not knowing what you’re supposed to be doing."

Quietly, you float up, and Diluc feels his heart tremble when you press a kiss to his forehead in a mix of an apology, a comforting notion, and an act of love. He lays down in silence with you, and if you make a nest out of his hair, and if he wakes up with you nestled at the crook of his neck, he does not say a word.

There is no need.

“Isn’t it enough?” Lisa asks him as she leans over the library railing. Diluc looks over to her as he puts away the last of the books he has asked to borrow, and he knows what she is asking before she finishes. Still, she tilts her head, her hat staying steady on her head, and repeats, “Isn’t it enough that they’re here with you?”

“Yes,” Diluc says without hesitation. “It is.”

“Can I ask why you’re still researching about seelies then?” Lisa pauses, putting her hand over her shoulder, and Diluc knows she will arrive at the right answer without him telling her. “If not for you then… for them? You’re looking for answers for your mini seelie?”

"I try to do what I can," he says, ignoring the way Lisa's eyes gleam all too knowingly. (He always knew there was much more to her at first glance.) "Thanks for the help, I--" He pauses when he catches Lisa smiling behind her fist. "...What is it?" he asks warily.

"Oh, nothing." Lisa croons, giggling, "I just think it's sweet how the two of you treat each other. Anyone would get jealous of that." She pauses, looking out the window as the sun sets in the west. "It almost seems like a miracle to have the two of you find each other, don't you think? Fate, perhaps? How utterly romantic!"

"You're letting Kaeya influence you too much," Diluc retorts, much to Lisa's amusement.

"Maybe so," she says, sighing, "but even if it was fate, you wouldn't have cherished them any less." She gives Diluc a pointed look even he cannot deny. "Isn't that right, Master Diluc?"

Diluc huffs, walking past her to head down the stairs. "Asking that, I'm sure you already know my answer," he tells her, and he lets his mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile when he hears her complain about his tight-lipped attitude. It blossoms into a full-blown smile when he starts heading back to the winery.

When he comes back, you are waiting for him among the grapevines as the winery is basked in orange light.

He's home.

Diluc sleeps early and wakes up before the crack of dawn and takes you up the clifftop overlooking the winery. He had told you that there was something he wanted to do and left it at that. Not that you minded-- you were happy to follow him, blocking out any sharp rocks so he wouldn’t grab ahold of them as he climbed and scaring off any elemental wisps that came your way.

When the two of you reach the clifftop, the sky begins to grow brighter as the sun peeks over the horizon. The color change from blue to yellow then orange is truly beautiful, and you are almost mesmerized as Diluc takes a seat down next to you, watching the sunrise.

“...It’s almost been a year now,” Diluc says, “since we first met.”

Happy Anniversary? You squeak in confusion, only to whip your body to face him when you realize why you’re here with him at dawn to watch the beautiful scene unfold before you. You squeak rapidly, stumbling over your words that he cannot hear but can understand anyhow. You hadn’t realized-- You were an idiot for not planning anything either, not that you could-- What kind of ore could you go find to bring to him as a present--?

“Thank you,” Diluc tells you, “for the past year.” In the backdrop of the rising sun, you think he is almost too bright to watch with that gentle smile of his. The thought is only exacerbated when he cups you in his hands as softly as he has always done. “Let’s see what this year has in store for us together.”

You trill softly, floating in the air to situate yourself on top of his head to watch the ocean shine brighter with the rising sun.

It is not the New Year for any country nor culture, but you look into the horizon and make a wish that no one can hear. One year has passed, many things have changed, but you find that the one thing that has not is your adoration for Diluc.

"Let's go back home," he tells you, not for the first time, when the sun rises substantially above the horizon. Obediently, you float down into his sights where you twirl playfully in the air in thanks for the view. He chuckles. "No problem," he says, and he leans down just enough to place a quick kiss in between your ears.

(In hindsight, perhaps you should have wished for more kisses in the following year if you thought that was actually something you could wish for.)

Like the beginnings of a new arc, you lead Diluc onto the start of another campaign that lasts longer than normal and ties in with the previous adventures you have had with Diluc.

You find Aether on the shores east of Mondstadt. Diluc can only look at you curiously when Aether reveals his visionless powers and his desire to find his sister, for if there were ever any need for corroborating evidence on your talent or ability, Aether is living proof of it.

With the traveler, you resolve many of the things that neither you nor Diluc could comprehend. The red, crystalline tears are purified, the winds calm down with Dvalin’s defeat, and Venti-- or should you say, Barbatos-- as usual, disappears in a wisp of dandelions to leave the City of Freedom to its autonomy. In the breezes of Mondstadt, you can feel his protective gaze upon the city, and more often than not, you find him wandering in the tavern, looking for a quick drink that Diluc offers ‘reluctantly.’ (You know him better now; Diluc would rather hug Kaeya than admit that he cares for the people in his life more than he shows, and Venti is one of the people he can find a fondness for. You still find yourself abashed to know that you are the only one Diluc can say unashamedly and wholeheartedly that he adores you-- in his own way.)

Aether’s presence in Mondstadt is a breath of fresh air, considering how compassionate he is and how willing he is to help with the common troubles of those in the city. He is led along by Kaeya, tugged onto an impromptu date by Lisa, and given a mask to go undercover with Diluc and help him in ways that you cannot. The tug of jealousy is unfamiliar, but you are more glad than anything that Aether can be his partner during the most dangerous of missions. You tag along as moral support and as a guiding post-- and for that, you find yourself most similar to Paimon, who, for some reason, keeps being compared to emergency food.

“You’re my companion,” Diluc tells you with finality when you look up at him, barely forming the thought in your head about being his emergency food. “Don’t doubt that.”

Turns out, people can not breathe when you are covering their entire face with your translucent body.

When the dust settles, you never think of turning Aether down when he asks you if you can sense whether his sister is in Mondstadt.

You leave with Aether and Paimon with the promise that you return to Diluc at the winery. You guide the two of them to Stormterror’s Lair, a place you have gotten far more acquainted with in the past month, and head up to the cliffside where a ruin guard’s footprints remain next to a dandelion. You can sense something here, though you are unsure of what, and you are about to apologize for finding nothing when Aether looks over to you with wet eyes.

You coo up at him comfortingly as he sighs with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Thank you,” he tells you, holding out his hand. You press against it, and you hope he knows that the best you can do to imitate a comforting hand-hold. “At least now I know for sure she’s here in this world.” He smiles at you. “This gives me a lot of hope that I’ll find her, so… thank you, really.”

Aether leaves for Liyue in the next few days, and if you had known he would leave so soon you would have done more than held his hand. You wish you could comfort him, reassure him that his sister, too, must be looking for him just as hard as he was. (Even if this was not the truth, you think if you wish hard enough, you could maybe manifest it for him.) You have so many words within you and yet none of them are conveyed, and Aether’s sad smile stays.

It gets hard sometimes, knowing how little you can do, and how much you could have done before-- and this is one of those moments. It is rare for you to feel melancholy over the things you no longer have, but they come and go like the waves on Falcon Coast. Without a word, Diluc can tell when you are feeling down, holding you when you fall into his hands.

His kisses come more often now, and he places one between your ears when you are with him during your lower moods. You think your day improves almost immediately when he does so, but it helps tremendously also that Diluc never forgets to reassure you.

“If you want me to help you with anything,” he says, “you only need to ask."

You coo again, twirling once, nudging at his cheek before backing away just enough to look at him. If you had a heart (and you sometimes suspect you do), it would be beating quickly as you wait for him to decipher your actions.

“...Ah,” he says, picking you up again. You think for a moment he looks as embarrassed as you feel, but then he asks, “...Another one?” and places a second kiss onto your head.

You trill, pleased that you are spoiled by Diluc and even happier that Diluc only joins you in your mirth when he huffs in laughter.

“What an honest seelie,” he says, and you could not be more content with how fond he sounds of you and how, again and again, he continues to be patient with you even when you cannot be patient with yourself.

Sometimes when the moon is high and Diluc is fast asleep, you find yourself at the place you first came to fruition as a seelie. The lake by the Winery and this exact scenery may as well be your birthplace. When you look into the reflection you see your orb-like features, viscous yet watery all at once, emitting light.

But sometimes, when the only light is coming from the fireflies that glow beside you, you look into the lake and see a familiar face staring back at you. They have your face-- your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and your brows of a time when you were not a seelie. It’s the only time you get to see this image of your past self, reminding you of what you were before. Sometimes, you think you can hear your voice being carried over by the winds of another world, of another time.

These moments are the only thing you have kept to yourself.

After all, what’s the point of holding onto something that you no longer have? The man you’ve grown to care for-- grown to love-- is someone who has his eyes set forward toward the future, and you’re going to be there with him no matter what.

Although seelies cannot dream, you dream of carrying over the tray of tankards and washing the dishes in the tavern, of carrying Klee over your shoulders as you lead her to Albedo, of bumping elbows with Kaeya jokingly or placing a blanket over Jean’s shoulders when she falls asleep in her office again.

You dream of lacing your hands with Diluc’s, pressing your lips upon his temple, and hearing his heartbeat against his chest with a steady, grounding rhythm that reminds you you are home.

And sometimes, just dreaming is enough.

(And sometimes, it is not.)

Life goes on. You see more of Mondstadt and begin to know the land like the back of Diluc’s hand. Knights and adventurers alike know you as the little seelie, and whether they think you follow Diluc or Diluc follows you is up to each person’s interpretation. (Regardless, none of them are wrong.)

You accompany Diluc when he trains Razor in Wolvendom, and you invite Bennett to adventure sometimes with the two of you. (The boy may be unlucky, but you’re a magnet of trouble, so you think you have some things in common. A lot more things explode when he accompanies you but Diluc can handle it.) You make sure Jean gets some rest (“Your seelie is, um… very…” “Stubborn?” “I was going to say determined.”) and follow Lisa around on her expired library book expeditions. (“You think she’s beautiful, don’t you?” Diluc says to you, and you wonder why you babble excuses to him-- You’re more beautiful!-- while he looks at you in amusement.)

You and Diluc spend more time with other people in comparison to before, but you still have quiet moments with just the two of you when the days are slow. You’ve been learning how to move small things even better than before, among other things, but with this skill in particular, you can actually slide the pieces on the chessboard when you play against Diluc, who looks on (fondly) as you do your best to carefully push the pieces with your body.

You always end up knocking some down, but when you finally get a handle of it, you do it with such concentration that Diluc doesn't have the heart to offer help. He does, however, end up polishing the board so the pieces slide more easily. You notice it’s shinier but he doesn’t let you pay it any mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says to you, and you think the words I love you come to mind more often than not recently.

Thank you, you trill instead, and you ache with a want that pulses ever so often when you want so much more than you have when Diluc reaches out to caress your head.

“Like I said,” Diluc says softly. “Don’t pay it any mind. It’s your move still, you know.”

And you move the pieces. And you pick the grapes in his vineyard. And you find artifacts of crimson for him. And you kiss the scars from the many years he has battled (with or without you).

He gains another in the next, final battle with you as his seelie.

Diluc has gotten hurt before. It’s inevitable with the number of enemies he faces, the number of times you run into enemy territory, but it has never been a problem for him to stand back up and fight. His fire burns brightly-- shine true is his motto, and Diluc lives those words as though they have been etched onto his soul.

Much like fire, Diluc is relentless, and you can only follow him as he pushes through enemies, listens to his connections, and finds a den of thieves that have been terrorizing Springvale for months. The two of you should have known that their efficiency was because they were led on by the Fatui, but you fail to notice until they have you surrounded.

You have every faith in Diluc to come out safe and sound, but it takes only one mistake for you to be reminded that there is a limit to everything.

The blade slices through so quickly you aren’t sure what happened, but when Diluc pulls his hand back from the cut on his side to have it painted with blood, your heart drops.

“A little out of depth, don’t you think, Darknight Hero?”

“I’d keep my tongue in my mouth if I were you,” Diluc growls, and you can only tremble in mid-air as your mind races with the things you can do-- only to think of all the things you cannot do. You almost miss what Diluc tells you with the way your hearing fuzzes. “Go back to Mondstadt and tell the Knights where these bandits are,” Diluc says, and you know it’s serious when Diluc thinks about reaching out to the knights. (This is partly true, you would realize later, that despite Diluc’s hesitance on being associated with the knights, he knows you would reach out to Kaeya or Jean if needed-- if not for him but so you would be taken care of.)

You should have told Jean or Kaeya or Amber or even Lisa where the two of you had gone just in case things go awry. The thought never crossed your mind things could go wrong when you had Diliuc with you.

“You’ll find me again,” Diluc tells you softly when you hesitate, and you wonder how he can lie to you like that when his gloves are too bloodied to even hold you. “I promise.”

How could you ask me to do that? You plead, feeling tears well up again. How could you ask me to leave you?

“It’s okay,” Diluc tells you, and his bare hands are warm. “It’s fine.”

You are ripped out of Diluc’s hands when someone throws an electro grenade in the fire below Diluc’s feet. He’s still standing even after this, but a throwing knife hits him on the shoulder, another grenade to his left. You can do nothing but watch as Diluc is hurt, falling onto the ground.

If there was ever a moment you wanted something so badly, you would have done anything to get it, it would be right here-- right now.

You are the last thing he sees.

“You whose strength stems from your devotion, I shall lend you my power.”

You don’t know whose voice you heard or how somehow you have the hands to hold onto the Vision framed with Mondstadt wings in your hands, but you’ve learned not to question the good things in life-- one of them being your life at Diluc’s side.

Your voice is loud, you realize, when you shout at the bandits to leave. And your powers are strong-- strong enough to protect the person that matters most.

The bandits run at the fight sign of trouble, and the Fatui agent is unconscious. (You checked.)

You hold Diluc as he lies on your lap, breathing heavily but still breathing-- thank the archons. You quickly brush his hair away from his face and press on his wound, wincing when he lets out a grunt of pain even unconscious. I won’t let them hurt you, you think, taking one of his hands to brush your lips over his knuckles. (His hands are rough and calloused, but you love them just the same for how gently they held you when you were just a seelie.) If they come back, they’ll have to get through me.

“Hello, mini seelie.”

You look up from Diluc just in time to see a hand reach down to softly rustle your hair, much to your dismay. The initial reaction gives way to surprise when you recognize that the voice comes from none other than Kaeya. He grins down at you with his sword by his hip, and you frantically look around to see if the bandits had come back.

How did you--?

“Nice wings you got there,” Kaeya teases you, making you look back and find that oh, when did those get there? “Didn’t even notice them because you were too worried about Diluc, huh?” When you nod, he softens his gaze. “Why don’t you let us take care of things around here, hm?” He glances down at Diluc who has been sleeping soundly in your lap. “Let’s get him back home.”

When a few knights come with a cart to ambulate Diluc back to Mondstadt instead of the winery (you couldn’t argue with Jean even if you did choose to speak; she’s stubborn when the people she cares about are hurt), you feel the tension leave your body all at once, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you actually feel sleepy.

“I’m glad we arrived right in the nick of time.” You turn to Kaeya who had been working behind the scenes, directing the knights. “You did good work, chasing them out of here so we could catch them easily,” he says, “I-- oof!”

You tackle Kaeya into a grateful hug, and it takes him a few moments to respond by placing his hands onto your back and giving it a few pats. “There, there,” Kaeya drawls, but you can hear the smile in his voice anyways. “Better not hug too long; Diluc might be jealous that I’m the person you hug first, you know.”

You let go slowly, grinning up at him as though you agree, and you dodge Kaeya before he can mess with your hair again. On the way out of the camp, Jean gives you a smile, Amber waves excitedly at you before rounding up a few more bandits, and your cheeks hurt a little from the way Lisa pinched it. You go find Diluc where he’s being taken back in a horse-drawn cart and hold his hand until you’ve fallen asleep by his side.

(In his sleep, Diluc holds onto you.)

Diluc wakes up twice. Once, very briefly, when your wings are expansive and when the Vision at your waist shines brightly with power. Before he wakes up the second time, you can already feel the power fade from both you and the Vision.

You knew that your transformation was temporary; powers do not always last forever, especially since the glow of your Vision seems contingent on the cycles of the moon-- particularly the moon that you were born on. You think that you should feel more disappointed, but you don’t. You get to hold onto Diluc’s hand in yours and wipe away the sweat from his forehead as he sleeps, and you think that if you only get this one chance to do these things, then you will take what you can get.

You will love Diluc as you are, no matter what form you take. Your transformation wasn’t necessary. Your powers were a bonus, but even if you weren’t granted a miracle, Diluc would have been safe, as a courtesy of Kaeya who had been trailing behind the two of you since you from the start. (Kaeya and Diluc's connections had the same info this time around, so they were bound to intersect at some point.) What you’ve been given was not the power to save Diluc, but the chance to love him in a way you have always dreamed of doing.

When Diluc opens his eyes the second time around, more aware and more awake, you almost don’t know what to do. It’s a momentary panic when you think he doesn’t know who you are, but he only needs to take one look at you before he raises his hand to caress your cheek as he’s always done.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m fine,” he soothes, though his voice is still raspy from disuse. “Don’t cry.”

I can’t believe you wanted me to leave you behind. How could you tell me that?

“...Sorry,” he says, and you raise your head from his bed just enough so he can wipe away the tears on your lashes. “It’s funny but even if you don’t talk, I can still understand you.”

You watch as he slowly takes your hand and presses his palm against yours, lowering his fingers until they’ve interlocked with yours. “My seelie,” he says with all the warmth in the world. You can only nod before you’re wiping away the tears that spring up again. "Even in this form, you'll still lead me, right? Still find me if I get lost?"

You don't know what type of face you're making, but Diluc softens his gaze before shifting slightly in the bed offered to him by the church. "Come here," he whispers, arms outstretched.

You tentatively place your weight onto the bed, arms placed on each of his sides as you gingerly climb into bed with him. When he winces, you put a hand on his chest, alarmed, to stop him from exerting himself.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and when he looks at you, he bursts out laughing, only for him to wince again more strongly. “Sorry, your expressions-- they’re exactly how I imagined them.” He chuckles, though you purse your lips at him as you finally settle under the covers next to him. You make a sound of surprise when he leans over just enough to press a kiss onto your forehead. You hear his soft huff of laughter again when you bury your face into his chest out of embarrassment. “Still as easy to read as ever.”

You grab a hold of his shirt with your ears pressed against his sturdy chest. He gently rubs circles on your shoulder as you listen to his heartbeat, which is as steady as you have imagined it to be. It quickens ever-so-slightly, and you look up at Diluc in time to see him gaze down at you tenderly. “You don’t have to speak,” he says, brushing his hand across your cheek. “Nothing has to change at all. But there’s something I want to know.” You raise your hand to caress his hand (and he finds the courage to keep on speaking).

“Do you think you can tell me your name?” Diluc whispers, the most unsure you have ever seen him, and you think you’re so fond of him your heart (not just metaphorical this time) might burst from it.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to scoot yourself up just enough to kiss him on the side of his mouth, and you can't help but grin at the stupefied expression on his face.

And you say your name.

How interesting is it that it's the one thing you cannot convey through trills and twirls, cannot show through hugs and kisses? You never thought that your name could have such significance but you watch as Diluc's eyes widen and you think this moment is the gift the gods have given you.

Diluc takes a moment to taste your name, and he calls out to you for the very first time out of many, many, many times.

Before the sun rises, Diluc wakes up to your bright glow and with your seelie body pressed up against his collarbone. He breathes your name into the quiet infirmary before he closes his eyes to sleep again.

You are found more often than you are lost. For every time Diluc calls your name-- as a seelie or as a human (fairy?)-- your heart soars as high as the anemograms at Brightcrown Mountain.

As a seelie, your life with Diluc stays the same-- for the most part. No one treats you differently and no one loves you differently from when they knew you as just a seelie. If anything, the biggest change has been in Diluc's life where the stares from his admirers are more muted and the swoons reduced, for how could anyone continue to pine over someone that is so evidently preoccupied with someone else? (Even though they've only seen the person who Diluc holds in high regard once every new moon.)

Every adventure still has the same probability to go awry and Diluc still polishes the chessboard to perfection for you. Though on moonless nights, Diluc can hold you close, and you can hold him closer, saying his name (the second word you ever say) and hoping he can never feel quite as lost as before when you are here with him.

FIN

temp taglist

@creation-magician @inlustris-but-obey-me @lumi-ying @thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars @ninqat @winterptilopsis @nya-vivi @just-noelle @shr3ik

#diluc ragnivindr #diluc/reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc #genshin diluc #kaeya #albedo #jean #lisa #aether #mini seelie #the amt of times i stopped myself from rambling

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 31/2021) - George Lore

George sleeps.

---

VOD LINKS:

Foolish

Quackity

George

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

---

TW: Derealization

---

- George talks to his conscience, as voiced by Quackity.

Georgre Lore Part 2

- George has been thinking about the past. He’s had things happening that no one knows about, and he wants to talk about it.

- Quackity turns back into George’s conscience. George introduces his conscience to Lore Man (voiced by Wilbur). Lore Man tells George’s conscience that George beat him on the field of battle. He cannot sheathe his sword until George has been defeated.

- Lore Man asks if George ended up winning the vice presidency. George tells the conscience that he was supposed to be running for president.

- He was taking a stroll when Lore Man jumped out at George, but George was prepared and beat him fair and square. George, though he won, was terribly wounded, and he had to rest. The sword has an enchantment on it to make people sleep.

- George experienced an unexplainable lapse of time. He woke up and everything was gone, everyone was mad at him. There was a scar on his arm, dried blood, and he was confused.

- George harvests the day’s harvest.

- George asks why he’s doing all this work, putting in his blood, sweat and tears for people who care not. He goes to explore a nearby ravine.

Georgre Lore Part 3 George’s SEcret marrieg

how did he become divorce

It’s Possibleer

- They visit Fundy’s Pet War arena: the ancient battle ground, Lore Man’s “scuffle pad.” Ranboo arrives and asks if there is a scuffle going on here.

- Lore Man gives George a scuffle rock and tells him to meet in the middle of the scuffle pad. They will do ten paces.

- They take ten paces and scuffle. George begs Lore Man to spare him. Lore Man says farewell and leaves with George’s lore and also his dignity.

Georgre Lore Part 4

why georg not h ave lore

THe trip to Lmanb

- George visits the crater that is L’manburg. He could have had an excellent presidency. George’s conscience tells him to think about all the terrible memories this place holds. He leads George to the bomb room and tells George to think of a life where he owned L’manburg.

- They visit the shrine where Friend is. The thunder booms, and a voice from the sky calls out to George: Mexican Dream himself. He has a story to tell. If George had become vice president, Mexican Dream would never have existed. He owes George his existence, and wants to repay him.

- MD tells George that the issue is, he wants to repay George but he’s dead. He tells George that this is all a figment of his imagination. He’s dreaming, getting information through his sleep. MD is reaching out to George through his conscience.

- Lore Man comes back to ask when MD is giving George sloppy.

Lore Man: “What’s left of you, Georgenotfound? You are a husk of what you were.”

Georgre Lore Part 5

geirge visits his Old home

- George visits his house (now a catmaid cafe). He goes inside and finds Badboyhalo crouching in a hole in the floor

- Lore Man breaks through the window and tells George that he should be happy he isn’t asleep, because every sleep brings him closer to his demise, and he will make sure George sleeps through everything ever again. George asks if Lore Man gave him a sleeping curse.

- Lore Man tells George to make the most of his cat house, because soon he will be sleeping in it forever. Outside, George finds a massive bed by his home. His conscience tells him that he must go to sleep within his dream.

- Lore Man tells him he has a revelation to reveal to George before he goes to sleep...he knows who George’s parents are, canonically, and also his surname:

Lore.

George Lore.

Georgre Lore Part 5 6

GEORGE SEES A NEW GUY

- George’s conscience tells him that though this is not real, it is a manifestation of something George feels guilty about.

- George sees a little kid crying at the edge of the lake. It’s Quackity. He’s crying because today, he lost the elections because George slept in.

- A new character appears. It is Lore Woman! She presents a cornflower to George. Lore Man hands Lore Woman a scuffle rock. Ranboo takes off his crown and becomes the Scuffle Man: overseer of the scuffle.

- Quackity shouts that he will fight alongside George. Even though George has disappointed him, he will fight with George to defeat the Lores.

GEORGERO LORE Part 8

THE FORMER CANDIDATES FIGHT TOGETHER AGAINST LOREMAN AND LOREWOMAN

- The two pairs stand at the scuffle grounds. George speaks to Badboyhalo, the floor goblin, for words of wisdom.

- Lore Man and Lore Woman are standing on bales of hay. Lore Man asks George to remember the wheat he harvested as a young boy.

- Lore Man tells Scuffle Man to begin. Quackity asks George if he has any last words. George places down the cornflower on the battlefield. It is time.

Scuffle Man: “Ten paces SCUFFLE!”

- The scuffle begins. Quackity’s legs are broken. They continue fighting. The Scuffle Man stops the scuffle. Something has gone wrong: Lore Woman has been shot in the head! She rebrands to Lore Lady.

- Quackity tells them that it must end with George and Lore Man in one final scuffle. Lore Man says he wants to use the weapon meant for George: the enchanted sleep sword. George responds that he shall plunge the scuffle rock into Lore Man’s chest.

- Lore Man tells George that they have known each other for many, many years. But he deserves to know the truth: he deserves to know his father.

Lore Man: “I am your father, Georgenotfound.”

- Lore Man and Lore Lady intended to create George to be the king of lore. But here he is, having slept through everything. Lore Man tells George that he wants George to make his first bit of lore. He says to take his sword -- named “Lore” -- and that he has only one canon life left.

- Lore Lady protests, but Lore Man insists that George must make his lore. George must make a widow of Lore Lady.

- Lore Man bows his head. He tells the floor goblin to take good care of his wife, and says to Lore Lady that he wishes for her to marry this man. George tells Lore Man to place his head upon the hay.

Lore Man: “Make me proud, son.”

George: “Farewell, Lore Man.”

- George decapitates his father.

GEORGE LORE.

LAST PART

WAKING UP.

- His conscience wakes George from a bed at Spawn. George discovers he has the Lore sword. George marches down the path into the distance.

- George’s stream starts off with a distorted version of C148′s Minecraft.

- George has no items. He speaks to Niki and Bad. Bad is confused when George mentions the floor goblin. Was it all just a dream?

- George turns around to see Mexican Dream. Mexican Dream tells George the story of how he visited Tommy and Dream killed him. He came back to see Mexican L’manburg. He found a way to come down here.

- George and MD reach the place where Mexican L’manburg used to be. They’re confused. Where is it?

- Mexican Dream shouts at George -- where is Mexican L’manburg? George insists he thought it was there. Bad says George destroyed it while sleep-mining, or at least someone who looked like George.

- George asks, what if it was Bad? Niki vouches for Bad, she doesn’t think it was him. Mexican Dream is heartbroken. He doesn’t have much time down here. The timer already went off. He doesn’t know how long he has left.

- Bad says the person looked like Quackity, but with different clothes. Mexican Dream doesn’t know who Quackity is. George does, but he doesn’t know where Quackity lives.

- Mexican Dream sees L’manhole. He’s shocked, but MD doesn’t care. He made Mexican L’manburg because he hated L’manburg. He was going to do it eventually himself anyways.

- They go to Quackity’s old house underneath Karl’s. MD tells them to leave the room while he inspects.

- George wonders why he smells smoke. They run back in to see MD lighting Quackity’s room ablaze. MD tells George to find out where Quackity is, or else. He then disappears.

- Badboyhalo says this might be a good thing, actually. Quackity has been rebelling against the Egg for so long, he had this coming. Niki is upset. She vouched for Bad, and now he’s happy that Quackity’s house is gone?

- They ask if Bad was trying to frame Quackity. Bad says that he can tell Quackity that this is what happens when you double-cross the Egg.

George: “The Egg has actually messed you up. Can you even hear what you’re saying?!”

- Bad says they’re both coming with him. They’ll take a little trip to see the Egg. George asks why he’s acting like this. Niki whispers to George that maybe this is good, maybe they can find out what’s going on.

- Bad tells George that, anything he could possibly want, the Egg can give it to him. If Quackity asks what happened to his house, they have to lie to him and say that the Egg did it.

- DreamXD joins the game and greets them. They explain what’s going on.

- DreamXD tells George that he heard that yesterday, George made a deal with the devil and lost, so he kills Badboyhalo. The world is at balance now.

- He tells George that the stuff is his now, but George hesitates, wondering if it’s infected. Bad grabs the stuff back before George can take it.

- DreamXD returns to George, telling him that he gave him a chance at full Netherite. George asks for another chance, but DreamXD refuses. When George insists, DreamXD’s voice distorts.

George: “What happened to your voice?”

DreamXD: “You try and abuse my kindness -- I save you?! I save you, I give you full Netherite, you throw it away then you ask me for MORE!”

George: “I thought it was -- I thought it was fine?”

DreamXD: “Oh, it’s so fine, it’s fine -- everything’s fine! It’s all just a game to you, George!”

George: “I don’t know if I like this, DreamXD.”

DreamXD: (normal) “Oh, ok.”

- Niki asks if he’s sure he’s awake right now. George gets annoyed at Enderman sounds everywhere. He asks why DreamXD is acting like this.

- DreamXD says he doesn’t come here very often. George points out that he comes here a lot when George is here. DreamXD explains that George invited him. DreamXD doesn’t want to scare George. It just comes out sometimes.

Dream: “George, it’s me, Dream!”

George: “Dream? ...Dream?”

DreamXD: “Hm...he’s gone.”

- George says he would rather be with Bad and the Egg at this point. DreamXD starts to chase him.

George: “Dream?”

DreamXD: “Who’s Dream?”

- DreamXD laughs and says he’s not going to hurt George.

- George asks what DreamXD wants. DreamXD says he simply wants George’s acceptance. He wants to be George’s friend.

George: “I can’t even hit you. What’s wrong with you? And now you’re flying.”

DreamXD: “I’m god.”

- George tells DreamXD to prove it by giving him the best armor in the world.

DreamXD: “You really try and abuse me again.”

George: “No, we’re friends, we’re friends! This is what friends do, they give each other gifts.”

DreamXD: “All friends beg each other for stuff?! Apologize!”

- George apologizes. DreamXD forgives him.

DreamXD: “I mean, at least you don’t try and like, hunt me or something.”

...

George: “Dream. How do we just go back to normal?”

DreamXD: “What do you mean?”

George: “How do we fix this? You’re being --”

DreamXD: “I’m not Dream...I’m not Dream. Sort of. I’m a part of him.”

George: “You look like Dream.”

- DreamXD gives George some diamonds. George asks what to make.

DreamXD: “Whatever your heart desires.”

- George gets a holy spoon. They see Badboyhalo approach. DreamXD shouts at him and scares Bad off.

- They do it again, George aiming to troll Bad. But DreamXD gets a bit morbid. George says he doesn’t think DreamXD should have done that, but DreamXD thought it was a fun prank.

- They go over to Karl’s Harry Potter home and descend into the wedding chapel. DreamXD doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

- George gets frustrated by the Endermen sounds again. DreamXD wants to learn. He doesn’t know when things are too far because he isn’t like George.

- George then teaches DreamXD to apologize to Bad, then suggests they prank Niki. Instead, DreamXD scares her away too.

- They pull a harmless prank on Niki in Church Prime, but Niki didn’t find it very funny. DreamXD asks if Niki would like to see a magic trick. He makes her “disappear” by killing her. DreamXD brings her back. He says he sent her to Hell and brought her back into the church.

- Niki tells George good luck with him and then runs away. George says he’s done.

DreamXD: “Why are you giving up on me?”

George: “You’re scaring me.”

DreamXD: “I don’t wanna--”

George: “I just want to go back and eat my food like I used to, you know, back to the old times, farming my food, all in peace, where I don’t have to worry about you killing people, being weird...”

DreamXD: “But you’re giving up on me!”

George: “It just doesn’t look like you’re making an effort. I don’t know. I’m sorry, but...it looks bad on me, you know?”

DreamXD: “Well...well I’m sorry...”

- DreamXD says George can teach him. He makes a pun about axes. He’s learning!

- DreamXD asks for forgiveness. George asks what’s in it for him.

DreamXD: “I can give you your heart’s desires.”

- He doesn’t know what’s in it for George, but asks for George to just forgive him. George says that he’ll forgive DreamXD and give him a chance only if he gives George Netherite armor and tools.

DreamXD: “We can be powerful together! You can teach me, and I can teach you! I can teach you so many things!”

- George says he’ll be his friend if DreamXD gives the things to him. DreamXD insists on forever. George has to promise.

George agrees. Forever. DreamXD says if he’s lying, he will tear George limb from limb. They will be the best of friends!

- DreamXD gives George the Netherite. DreamXD puts on his Ender Dragon head. They will remember this moment. They take a celebratory picture.

- George posts it on Twitter. (DreamXD doesn’t like Twitter because they cancel him for murder)

- DreamXD says he will see George another time and disappears.

- George goes off on his own, wondering why he keeps hearing Endermen where there aren’t any.

- A sentient anthropmorphic cow version of Quackity visits George in the spider spawner and shows him a dog in the floor named Pluto, then starts talking to George about Yeezys

- George notices the cow is holding a...scuffle rock? Cow Quackity says goodbye and George wakes up in his bed at Spawn again.

He has everything DreamXD gave him.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

LXC is the legal guardian and adopter for LSZ or LJY, and NMJ has questions.

part 2 of the LJY-adopted-by-LQR fic (now also on ao3)

“So, did I knock you up before I went to war or something?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Because I feel like you should’ve mentioned it if that was the case. Possibly in a letter.”

Lan Xichen was so tired that it took him a solid minute to parse what was wrong with that sentence and how to respond, and it was not by following his first instinct to apologize that he should’ve written better letters.

“Stop making fun of me,” he said instead, groping towards some measure of dignity.

Sadly, dignity was in very short supply when you were taking care of babies. Multiple babies. Well, one baby and one toddler, which was somehow worse?

Lan Xichen was pretty sure they’d figured out how to time their crying off each other.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue said, like a liar, and then he picked up little Jingyi and – Lan Xichen simply cannot find another way to put it – shook him, in a manner not unlike testing a melon for freshness.

For some reason, this made Lan Jingyi stop crying and start making snuffling little giggles instead.

“How did you do that?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Nie Mingjue tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and scooped up some food off the table, offering it to him, and Lan Jingy actually ate it. “Xichen, are you feeling all right?”

“Shhh!” Lan Xichen hissed, eyes fixed on the baby, which was neither spitting up everything nor wailing as if his heart was broken. “No unnecessary noise during meals.”

Nie Mingjue snorted in amusement. “Sure,” he said amiably, in the tone Lan Xichen had long ago learned meant ‘nice rules you’ve got there, it’d be an awful shame if someone found a loophole in them’. “This isn’t a meal, though; it’s just a snack.”

Lan Xichen eyed the still-not-crying Lan Jingyi and decided that now was not the time for a spirited debate on the virtues of discipline and fulfilling the merits rather than the word of a rule.

“Where’s monster number one gone?” Nie Mingjue asked abruptly. “He must be very good at hiding, because I looked away for a blink of an eye and he was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes slowly dropped down to where a cloth-covered lump was not-so-sneakily edging towards Nie Mingjue’s foot.

Nie Mingjue was one of the foremost front line fighters of their generation, and possibly the previous one as well. His physical ability was matched only by his incredibly keen senses.

There was no way he was not aware of the lump.

“It’s a real shame, too,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I was planning on doing a test of how far you can throw children, but I think monster two here’s a bit too small to make the test worthwhile. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be –”

You can’t throw children, Lan Xichen was about to say, except Lan Sizhui was tearing off the tablecloth and jumping up in excitement, shouting, “Here! Here! I’m here! I’m big enough! You can throw me!”

“Why does he want to be thrown,” Lan Xichen murmured, bewildered. He’d never wanted to be thrown around as a child. Had he?

In fairness, he wasn’t sure. No one had ever offered.

Apparently, though, Lan Sizhui did very much want to be thrown around, and Lan Jingyi even condescended to allow Lan Xichen to hold him while he watched.

“Higher! Higher!” Lan Sizhui shouted.

“Really? Is this high enough?” Nie Mingjue held him up at eye level.

“Higher!”

“Like this?” Above his head.

“Higher!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. How about –” Baxia slithered out from her place by the door, zipping over until she was right in front of Nie Mingjue, allowing him to step onto her like a stair, and then zipping upwards to about hip-height, lifting Nie Mingjue and Lan Sizhui with her. They very nearly hit a tree branch with their heads. “– this?”

Lan Sizhui shrieked with laughter.

“It’s too early to introduce them to flying,” Lan Xichen objected, because it was. “Mingjue-xiong…”

Nie Mingjue hopped down with a laugh. “All right, one last toss,” he told Lan Sizhui. “Then you nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” Lan Sizhui, who had never once willingly succumbed to naptime in the entirety of the time that Lan Xichen had known him, promised earnestly.

Back into the pile of soft grass he went, giggling the entire time, and amazingly enough he really did fall asleep afterwards. Lan Jingyi, too, had fallen asleep at some point.

“I’ve decided that your brother needs more experience running a sect,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who raised his eyebrows. “Starting immediately. I promise to allow you to leave when Jingyi is, oh, shall we say five years old..?”

You could reason with a five year old.

Nie Mingjue laughed.

It was a type of laugh that suggested that he thought Lan Xichen was making a joke. This was incorrect.

“You’d be amazed at how serious I am,” Lan Xichen told him threateningly, “I’m sect leader here, this is my territory, I can have you arrested any time –” but by that point Nie Mingjue was already bundling him off to bed, too, combing out his hair and plying him with snacks and –

This was not helping his argument that Lan Xichen should be allowing him to leave rather than keep him trapped in the Cloud Recesses as a babysitter-slash-love-slave.

Well, he wouldn’t really do that, of course. He’d let him go. Eventually.

It’d probably be good for Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, honestly.

“Seriously, though, how did you do that?” he asked, his head on Nie Mingjue’s lap. “They didn’t cry once.”

“I’m good with kids,” Nie Mingjue said, his fingers digging into Lan Xichen’s scalp in just the right way. “Now can you explain to me how exactly you ended up with them? Two, no less?”

Lan Xichen groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “Sizhui’s Wangji’s,” he explained. “Not biologically, but he’s put his name down in the family register under his own. But, you know…”

“I know.”

Lan Xichen appreciated that he didn’t need to go into it. The doctors had estimated that Lan Wangji would regain full mobility within three years, so that was the period the elders had mandated for his so-called ‘seclusion’, but with Lan Wangji being locked away like that – even with visitors, even though he was trying his hardest to care for the child from where he was – meant that someone had to care for the child’s day-to-day life until his brother was ready to resume the role.

“Jingyi is a cousin, I think,” he continued. “His parents are dead, and uncle accepted guardianship for him…I think he’s going to adopt him, actually.”

“Then why is he with you?”

“I volunteered.”

“Xichen, I say this with a full heart of affection and tremendous respect for your capabilities,” Nie Mingjue said. “But why in the world would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

Lan Xichen sighed. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t stupid – he was, quite obviously, terrible with children.

“Uncle’s still injured from the war,” he admitted. In fact, his injury was probably even older than the war, dating as far back as the burning of the Cloud Recesses – his uncle had never been much of a fighter, his impressive cultivation strength stemming almost entirely from gentler arts like music and learning and meditation, but when his home and his family and his students were at risk, he’d fought, while Lan Xichen ran. Not just fought; he’d kept fighting long past the point that his body allowed. It only made sense for the bill to need to be paid. “He had a recurrence of an old complaint, not long ago; he started coughing up blood. The doctors insisted that he try to avoid anything that might cause him stress.”

“Stress. Like, say, a rowdy infant?”

“Exactly like a rowdy infant,” Lan Xichen agreed, glad that Nie Mingjue did not mention that what had happened with Lan Wangji was also likely a source of stress. At least the two of them had slowly started to repair their relationship recently – the heartbreak would kill their uncle sooner than anything else, and Lan Xichen might be weak, but he really couldn’t tolerate the idea of suffering any more loss.

And also, if Lan Wangji could see his way to forgiving their uncle, he might one day agree to forgive Lan Xichen, too.

“I see. So you ended up with the little one, too.”

“Yes. And they hate me.” Nie Mingjue coughed a little. “No, don’t deny it. They clearly hate me. They always cry and spit and yell -”

“They’re children, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said. “Traumatized children. They do that.”

Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Nie Mingjue was frowning in memory of pain long past. Lan Xichen remembered, with painful clarity, how young Nie Huaisang had been when Lao Nie had died, how badly he had taken it.

There’d been a lot of crying and vomiting and yelling there as well.

“You’re good with kids,” Lan Xichen said instead of commenting, trading delicacy for delicacy; he would not touch Nie Mingjue’s still-bleeding wounds just as Nie Mingjue avoided his own. “Very good.”

“Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

They remained in blissful, comfortable silence for a while.

“How would it have even worked?” Lan Xichen finally asked. His eyes were still closed, Nie Mingjue’s fingers running through his hair; he never wanted to move again.

“Hmm?”

“If you knocked me up before you went to war. I mean, they’re not even the same age.”

“Well, one of them’s from the affair, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I cheating on you now?” Lan Xichen opened an eye and pinned Nie Mingjue with a fierce look that instructed his lover to reconsider.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, mock-solemnly. His eyes were dancing. “You were so distraught after receiving incorrect news of my untimely demise that you conducted a ghost marriage with my spirit, and then went and had a child to continue my name.”

“…they’re both surnamed Lan.”

“So what? Are you saying I’m not good enough to marry into your sect, is that it?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing.”

“There you go, then.”

“Can I ask why I felt the need to have a child to continue your name if I had one already?”

“…well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve got nothing.”

Lan Xichen burst out laughing.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nielan #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #my fic #my fics #whistling brook #I know this doesn't quite match the prompt #but it ended up fitting in perfectly with the previous ficlet #walburgablack

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galaxysupreme17 · 3 years ago

Text

Hold On

Olivia Benson X Daughter Reader!

TRIGER WARNNING! Cutting/Bullying/attempted suicide. So this isn’t my first time writing but it is my first time posting on here. I write a lot of stories manly about my favorite tv shows/characters. Anyway this is a short story about being Olivia Benson’s Daughter and having depression and someone keeps leaving notes telling you to kill yourself. Olivia is currently a detective around season 14. If you guys have any request send them in and I will write them!

As you walk through the walls of your high school trying to keep your head down, not wanting to be seen, you walk up to your locker and open it. A bunch of notes come flowing out of it. You squat down, pick them up, and read through them.

“No wonder your mom is ever around. It’s probably because you are a horrible no good person” and another “my god just go kill yourself” and another “the world would be a better place if you weren’t here.”

After reading all of them you quickly shoved them into your bag and shut your locker. You walk home and as fast as possible open your apartment door. You run to your bedroom and burst into tears.

You have been getting these notes for months and slowly you have been believing them. You have your own personal bullies. Their names are Holly and Jamie. They make your life a living hell as often as they can.

Holly is the captain of the cheerleaders and Jamie is captain of the football team. You open your bag, after drying your tears, and pull out the notes putting them with the others, which are in a box on your desk right next to the picture of you and your mom.

You smile at the picture through your tear eyes and pull out a pen and paper. You quickly write down a suicide note and leave it on the counter in the kitchen for Olivia to find.

You then walk to the bathroom and pull out a bottle of pills and your razor. Before doing anything you think about your life.

Olivia was the best mother in the world. Always coming to every performance of every musical and always being there when you needed her. She would be there when you woke up and when you went to bed.

You remember going to the park when it was snowing and the rest of the squad went and you and Fin ganged up on Cragen throwing snowballs at him. Then the bullying started and your depression and anxiety got worse. You dropped theatre and show choir because you didn’t feel the joy of singing anymore.

After a little bit of thinking you continued with your plan. You took the razor and slid it across your arms and legs watching as the blood came running down. You grab the bottle of pills and start taking them; at first one by one but then continued until even after you started to feel dizzy. Within in minutes you passed out on the floor.

~With Olivia~

Olivia finally got off work just ready to be home. She was happy because she was finally going to have an evening with you. She had planned to let you pick dinner then you both would curl up on the couch and finish watching Gilmore Girls. You started that show together loving it because it reminded you both of your relationship with each other.

You were Rory and Olivia was Lorelai. The memory makes Olivia smile as she drives home. As soon as she parks her car and heads the flight of stairs, she gets a sickening feeling in her gut telling her something is wrong. Olivia rushes to the door and fumbles with her keys to get the door open. Finally, after struggling, she gets the door open and walks inside.

“Y/n! Y/n Where are you?” Olivia sets her stuff down and sees the note, it reads.

“Dear Mom, I am so sorry for this. I just can’t take it anymore. The real reason I quit theatre and show choir was because I have been bullied. For awhile now actually. I just cannot stand to live another day. They keep telling me it is for the best that I die and I believe that is true. Just now that I did fight. I fought for so long. I truly just cannot continue fighting. Know that I love you and none of this is your fault, I know you are going to blame yourself for not seeing it sooner but I am serious, none of this is your fault. I just can’t continue on. I don’t think I can continue on, I feel numb and like no one wants me. I love you momma never forget that.” By the end Olivia had tears streaming down her face as she ran to the bathroom banging on the door,

“Y/n! Please stay with me baby please! Open the door Y/n!” Olivia yelled.

Pulling out her phone she called 911 and busted down the door. As soon as she saw your body laying on the floor she broke. Immediately, Oliva checked for a pulse which was weak but there.

“Please don’t leave me baby! Hold on baby-girl please! I love you so much sweetheart!” Oliva cried as she began doing CPR.

The ambulance soon showed up and the took you and Olivia to the hospital. Olivia called Fin and asked to go check your bedroom for anything and bring it to the hospital. Of course Fin immediately jumped and ran when he heard what happened. Fin was still at the precinct when Liv called and Cragen happened to also be there.

Fin told Cragen everything and the two took off to go to Liv’s apartment then the hospital. Once the found the notes from your classmates and the suicide note they drove to the hospital. Olivia was waiting in the waiting room and when she saw Fin and Cragen she stood up again, on the verge of tears.

“Liv what happened?” Cragen asks looking her. Oliva cleared her through trying not to cry.

“I uhh had this feeling something was wrong and when I finally got into the apartment I saw umm the note. I ran to the bathroom and the door was locked so I called 911 and broke down the door. She was just laying there *her voice cracks* y/n looked to helpless it broke me.” Olivia explains and starts crying again.

Fin pulls her in for a hug and they all three just stand there. Olivia walked away to call Rachel your best friend. Rachel Cabot is Alex Cabot’s daughter and your best friend. The two of you have been through thick and thin together. Olivia knew she needed to call Alex and Rachel so they could be here.

After calling Alex, who said they would be down there soon, Olivia returned to the waiting room where your doctor came walking out. “Olivia Benson?” She asked softly.

“That’s me” Olivia said standing and walking forward. “Hi! I’m Arizona Robbins. So me and my team were able to pump Y/n stomach and stich up their wounds. They are still asleep and it might be awhile before they wake up but I can take you back to see them if you want”

“Yes please” Olivia says letting out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. As soon as they reached your room, Olivia covered her mouth trying not to cry. She sat next to your bed and held your hand, not wanting to let go.

Hours later you woke up not knowing where you were. Olivia felt you moving and immediately jumped looking at you with a soft smile.

“Mommy?” You say barley above a whisper. “Yes baby I’m right here” Olivia says wiping the tears away.

~Days Later~

You were sitting on the couch reading your favorite book Little Women. “Y/n can I talk to you about something serious?” Olivia asks walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “What is it?” You ask setting your book down and turning and looking at her.

“If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand but, why didn’t you tell me about the notes from the kids at school?” Olivia asks looking at you watching your facial expressions.

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you saw them you would agree or would tell me I’m just being dramatic and over reacting.” You say trying not to cry.

“Listen to me Y/n; I will always be here for you to talk or just to cry. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me. You are my daughter and I never ever want you to feel like I would judge or yell at you. I love you so much baby” Olivia says opening her arms causing you to jump into her arms hugging her.

“Thank you. I love you too mom” You smile as she tightens her grip around you.

#olivia benson #x reader #mother/daughter #law and order svu #svu fic #svu fandom #Fin #captain cragen #fanfic #short story

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

Text

Nights in the City

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Almost forgot to queue this, oops. Luckily I remembered just in time :) Anyway, this is a chapter about Schneep, because I feel like we should give him more attention in this AU. I mean, he’s a cool badass superhero, and we haven’t seen that much superhero-ing so far! So, here’s a short chapter about what that usually entails for him, with some cameos from the boys and some background characters. Enjoy :)

More of this AU found here

When most people lied about calling in sick to work, they were planning on doing something fun with their free time. But when Schneep lied about being sick, it was because he’d heard that there were some shady dealings going down on the north side of town that morning, and he had to be there to hear the information. Truly, the life of a vigilante was a glamorous one.

At least he’d had an extra-large cup of coffee that morning to make up for it. That would keep him alert as he waited on a rooftop ledge for said shady people to show up. This would be a terrible place to lose his balance. But it was the best hiding spot in the area, partially covered by a decorative stone outcropping while still being within earshot of the street below. It was a cloudy day, and not a lot of people were out and about. Which is why, when two people walked up to each other and sat down on a bench outside the building where Schneep was hiding, he paid extra close attention.

Luckily, there wasn’t too much wind or other background noise. He managed to get the gist of what these two were talking about. They were using a lot of the common code words that criminals in the city had developed. And he was familiar enough with that code to figure out they were talking about smuggling some firearms into the city. They mentioned the west edge more than once, referencing some common location that he wasn’t familiar with. And then they left.

Schneep frowned under his mask. It wasn’t a lot to go off of...but he didn’t mind. It would be nice to distract himself with a normal criminal case. To take his mind off all the stressful supernatural shit they’d been going through for the past months. And as a distraction, it was working. As he carefully slid off the roof ledge and onto a windowsill below, he was already running through the crime hotspots he knew about in the west side of the city.

Now that he was grabbing onto the windowsill below, he was about twenty feet above ground, so he dropped off the building altogether. With the ease of years of practice, he landed on his feet, letting his specially designed boots absorb the shock of the fall. Great. Now all he had to do was go home and spend the rest of the day narrowing down locations.

But as he turned to leave, Schneep paused. There was a car parked down the street, on the opposite side. Not unusual, but...it had been parked there when he arrived to eavesdrop on the criminals’ conversation. An hour ago. And again, not too unusual, but...it just didn’t look like the kind of car that would be common in this area. It was too new and clean.

Wary, Schneep looked away from it. After a moment’s hesitation, he started to walk down the street away from the car, remaining on edge and listening for anything odd.

Sure enough, as soon as he started to walk away, he heard the sound of a car starting and pulling onto the road. Going slow. Approaching. He sped up a bit, glancing around for alternate routes.

After only a minute, the car was driving alongside him. He glanced over at it just as the window rolled down. A voice shouted, “Hey!”

And Schneep immediately turned and ran into a gap between the buildings. “Hey wait!” The voice shouted, and he heard the car stop, but he didn’t slow down. There was a fire escape up ahead with a ladder, pulled up so the end was about six and a half feet off the ground. He jumped, catching onto the bottom rung, and started climbing. There were more shouts on the ground below. He didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Instead, once he reached the first landing of the fire escape, he pushed open the window and ducked inside the—fortunately—abandoned building.

He quickly found the staircase and climbed up until he reached the roof access. Once up there, he glanced around and noticed that this building was fairly close to one of the ones next to it. So without hesitation, he jumped across the gap and onto the next building’s roof. Only then did he pause, and look over the edge to the street below.

The building was about five stories tall. Short enough that he could see a figure on the sidewalk below, tall enough to make it difficult to tell who they were. Luckily, he didn’t have to. He’d gotten a pretty good look of her when she rolled down the car window earlier. It was that detective, Kikelomo. The one who’d been working on Jackie’s disappearance, and later, the kids’ as well. And...the detective he’d ran into when he’d snuck into the police station a month ago.

��Scheiße,” Schneep cursed. He’d half-hoped that she’d forgotten about seeing him, but apparently not. And apparently she’d managed to put together that the stranger from that day was him...or, more accurately, was his ‘hero identity,’ Von Voltage. It wasn’t surprising. After all, he’d zapped a couple people when getting away. Probably a big no-no to zap people working for the police, but he’d been more concerned with leaving as fast as possible.

Was she looking for him? She must have been, but how did she find him? Silently, Schneep watched as she walked out to her car—which she parked in the middle of the street when she got out to chase him, that was a bit of a dick move—and climbed into the driver’s side, soon speeding off. He waited until the car was out of sight before leaving.

———————

A while later, Schneep arrived at Marvin and Jameson’s house, still in his super suit. He’d been careful not to be seen while running here, just in case Kikelomo was still trailing him without him knowing. But by the time he reached their street, he was pretty sure she was gone. This neighborhood wasn’t too busy, any activity was noteworthy. But he didn’t see anything strange. And JJ’s car was still in his driveway, so at least one of them was home.

Letting himself relax a bit, Schneep hurried to their front door, pulling his mask off as soon as he reached the doorstep. Without knocking, he opened the door, calling out, “Hello? Who is home?” And then he froze.

Normally, the front hall of the town house was empty. But not today. And the person he ran into wasn’t Marvin or JJ. It was Jack. Leaning against the wall by the kitchen entrance, Sam on his shoulder, looking at his phone. But he looked up at the sound of Schneep’s voice. And slowly, took in the outfit he was wearing. “Well that would explain some things,” he muttered, looking down at Sam. “Wouldn’t it?” They nodded.

“I—I—uh—you—it’s—ah—” Schneep stammered for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?” he asked, slowly closing the front door behind him.

“JJ called me. There’s...um...a situation.” Jack gestured towards the kitchen entrance. Now that Schneep was getting over the shock of running into a stranger, he could hear someone’s voice coming from the room. “Apparently everyone else was busy.”

Schneep frowned. “Excuse me.” He walked past Jack and peered into the kitchen.

The voice that Schneep could hear was Marvin’s. He was arguing loudly with JJ. But Schneep could tell that wasn’t the ‘situation’ Jack was referring to. No, the ‘situation’ probably had to do with the fact that Marvin was pale as a sheet and sweating, even as he continued to argue. JJ wasn’t arguing back because his hands were busy helping keep Marvin upright, arms wrapped around his torso. Marvin clearly didn’t have the energy to stand on his own, and was holding onto JJ’s shirt tightly, even as he continued to protest.

“—not worth th’ trouble, it’s all fine,” Marvin was saying. “Y’can just go on and stop fuckin’ worryin’ about me. I can handle t’is, ‘ve done it a million times.”

JJ frowned, and didn’t say anything. Oddly enough, he was wearing his mask today, usually he only wore that for performances. He glanced over towards the door that connected the kitchen and the dining room. A red-haired woman was standing there, but at his look, she said, “Right, right,” and stepped aside. Immediately, JJ started dragging Marvin to the dining room.

“Hey! No! Drop it, Jems!” Marvin hit him weakly in the shoulder. “I don’ need to sit down.”

JJ just looked at him doubtfully.

Schneep felt this was a good moment to interject. “Ah, am I interrupting something?”

The two of them looked over at him. “Henrik! Tell him ‘m fine!” Marvin said.

“Sorry, I cannot do that,” Schneep said. “I would hate to lie to my friends.”

“Wha...?” Marvin groaned. “Alrigh’ fffffine, I’ll go...go sit at the table.” JJ looked relieved, and helped him over to the dining room, gesturing for Schneep to join them.

Nodding, Schneep retreated back into the hallway, circling around to the dining room. Jack, having heard most of that exchange, followed him.

Over in the dining room, Marvin had taken a seat at the table, leaning forward. He looked like he wanted to put his head down on the surface, but was barely resisting the urge. JJ was standing next to him, and the redheaded woman was standing off to the side. Upon seeing her, Schneep tried to retreat, again remembering that he was still wearing his super suit. Unfortunately, she caught sight of him before he could back out of the room. She gave him a friendly smile and waved.

“So...what is happening?” Schneep asked slowly.

JJ started to explain in sign language. I have rehearsal today. The first one since the...voice accident. So I really need to go. But Marvin got sick this morning and I didn’t want to leave him alone, because of how he is. But he’s insisting I go anyway and I didn’t need to call anyone to watch him, because he’s fine. A lot of the words were finger-spelled, slowing down the speech, but he was starting to get the hang of it. Nowadays he signed more frequently than he wrote.

“I see.” Schneep nodded wisely. A rehearsal, that would explain why JJ was wearing his mask. “And so you called these two to help?” He indicated Jack and the redheaded woman.

I called Jack, Jameson said, finger-spelling the name. Because Jackie’s at work, and Anti’s busy recording today, and I thought you were at work, too. I thought Jack could help, if it wasn’t a bother.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Jack said. “I was happy to come over and hang out. There’s just the bonus matter of making sure Marvin doesn’t kill himself.”

“I know what ‘m doin’,” Marvin grumbled.

You do, you just decide to cause problems on purpose, JJ rebutted.

“Okay,” Schneep said, mentally filing away the fact that Jack knew BSL. He turned to the redheaded woman. “And you are...?”

“I’m Aoife,” the woman said. “A friend of Jameson’s. He invited me to watch his rehearsal, since apparently he likes to have someone in the audience usually and Marvin wasn’t up for it. But I don’t know how to get to the theatre where he’s rehearsing, so I thought I’d stop by to ask Jameson if he could drive me. When I walked in, these two were faffing about.”

“No, Jems was faffing, I wasn’,” Marvin protested.

“Everyone is Irish,” Schneep muttered. “Dare I ask what that means?”

I understand it means ‘wasting time,’ basically, Jameson said.

“An’ you were def’nitely wasting time,” Marvin added. “Ye’ll be late at...at t’is rate.”

I’d be okay with that, as long as someone’s here to make sure you don’t do anything to tire yourself out.

“Stop worryin’ ‘bout me, you always...ye always worry ‘bout others. Be concerned with yourself, for once. Spreading too thin, stop.” Marvin’s words were starting to slur together.

“Well, ah, I was stopping by to ask if I could stay for a while,” Schneep asked. “So...I could stay and help out.”

Would you? Jameson asked.

“Of course.”

“Ye jus’ poppin’ in to check on us?” Marvin grinned a bit. “Real swell o’you.”

“That, and...ah...” Schneep awkwardly looked down at his costume. “I was out, and I didn’t—I-I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Not that there is any danger, I just...for me.” Even though he was sure Detective Kikelomo hadn’t followed him here, there was a lingering sense of paranoia that wouldn’t leave him alone.

It’s fine, Henrik, Jameson said. Jack, do you want to stay?

“If everyone’s fine with it,” Jack said cheerfully.

Marvin muttered something under his breath, finally laying his head down on the table. He appeared to have given up on getting JJ to not worry about him.

That would be so helpful, thank you both. JJ sighed. He shook Marvin’s shoulder, getting his attention. Call me if you need anything. And please, actually take the medicine this time?

“Sure, Jems,” Marvin said softly. “I promise. Now get out o’here.”

JJ nodded, and headed out, gesturing for Aoife to follow him. I’ll see all of you this afternoon. Five at the latest.

“Have fun, Jameson,” Schneep said. “Do lots of mag—oof!”

“Oh, sorry!” Aoife had bumped into him as she walked past to leave the room. She gave him a smile. “I didn’t mean it, I was trying to be quiet.”

“Is fine, do not worry,” Schneep assured her.

“Great. Oh, and if you find it, don’t get rid of it, will you?” Before Schneep could ask what she meant, she breezed past him and followed JJ out of the door.

Schneep was quiet for a moment, staring after her. Then he turned back to Jack and Marvin. “Do you two know what she meant?”

Marvin paused. “No, but I do know somet’ing. Aoife, she’s...she’s Jems’s magician friend. Works for whatever magic...place there is out there. For magicians. An’ she’s told him that she...her specialty is divination. So it’s probably important.”

Schneep blinked. “Divination? Like...seeing the future?” He couldn’t hide the skeptical tone in his voice.

“It’s not so weird,” Jack said. “Like, Sam gets feelings that they should go do something. That’s how they met all of you. I think that’s a form of divination, if just a minor bit of it.” Sam jumped in agreement.

“Well...alright.” Schneep decided to put that aside for now. “Ah, Marvin. Were you doing anything in particular that made Jems think he should call someone?”

Marvin hesitated. “I was tryin’ t’make tea,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, tea. That sounds like a good idea,” Schneep said. “I will go make some, then.”

“...t’ank you.”

“No problem at all.” And Schneep headed back into the kitchen, determined to forget about the detective who was looking for him.

———————

The next few days passed uneventfully. Schneep would spend his nights scouting out locations, looking for a place that could fit the area the two criminals were referring to. They mentioned this arms deal going down a week from then, so he had that much time to narrow down where it could be taking place. He settled on three possible locations in the western part of the city that could fit, and decided to check each of them when the day came.

Said day arrived quickly, and it dawned rainy. That was annoying. And cold, because of course it was, it was practically winter by this point. His suit was insulated, but he still felt the chill. He could’ve just let it go, but he didn’t become a notorious vigilante by giving up. So he found himself running about in the rain for hours, tracking down the locations.

The first two were busts, no suspicious activity there. But as they say, the third time was the charm. Schneep arrived at an old electronics shop just as the sun was starting to go down on the dark rainy day. The sign out front said it was closed, but the lights were on inside. Not too unusual. Except for the fact that he’d suspected this place was some sort of front for a while.

Schneep waited in the shadows across the street, making sure the glowing parts of his costume were turned off, and watched the shop. He’d brought along a pair of binoculars for the scouting that day, and kept an eye on the front and side entrances. It was a few minutes before he caught sight of movement near the side. People. He couldn’t make out the details, but someone appeared in the front window to close the blinds. Maybe nothing. Or maybe...

It warranted further investigation. Schneep slipped the binoculars into a backpack, which he left tucked into a space in the wall caused by missing bricks, and hurried across the street to the shop. There weren’t many alternative entrances to this place. He’d checked. The closest thing was a window in the back, so he circled around the building to reach it. The window was high in the wall, but there were some trash cans in the nearby alley that he pulled over so he could reach it.

Carefully, he peered over the ledge through the window. It was a bit difficult to make out the room at first, since the glass was dirty on the inside and covered in rain on the outside, but he could see a group of people. Eight of them, separated into two groups of four. And wouldn’t you know it? He recognized two of them as the pair he’d overheard last week.

The window was the type that would slide open. So Schneep slid it open an inch, listening for voices over the sound of the rain.

“—just hurry up, neither of us want this to last forever,” one voice was saying.

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your pants in a twist.” There was the sound of cloth rustling. “See? It’s right here.”

“How do we know it’s all there? And real?”

“Well, how do we know you aren’t handing over some shoddy weapons? Or ones that’ll be tracked by the coppers?”

“Just shut up,” a different voice said. “If we keep goin’ this way, we’ll be at a standoff all night. Let’s just exchange goods at the same time, then check them over.”

“Right.”

“That sounds fine to me.”

Just by this snippet of conversation, Schneep figured out that there were two groups in this exchange, and they had some trust issues with each other. Great, that would mean he’d be fighting two groups of four instead of one unified group of eight. Hopefully, some of them would try to run or attack the other group when he jumped in. And speaking of which...this seemed like a good time. When the ��goods’ were changing hands. Silently, he slid open the window. It opened wide enough for a person. So he grabbed the edge of the windowsill, braced himself, and just as someone inside was saying, “Hey, the window’s open—” he leapt through.

He landed in the center of the room, causing instant confusion and shouting. Quickly, he grabbed the nearest person and zapped them, instantly knocking them unconscious. There was a large crate on a wheeled dolly nearby, so he kicked that towards two others. One jumped out of the way but the other was surprised and easily got knocked over.

“This was a setup!” One of the criminals shouted, pulling out a knife. “You dirty bastards!”

“Don’t pin this on us!” Another yelled, pulling out a knife of her own.

So none of them had firearms. At least, that he could see. And he assumed that the crate had some inside, so that was a factor. He’d have to be—

One of the criminals came charging at him, swiping with a knife. Schneep dodged out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blade grazing across his upper arm. Luckily, it didn’t break through the suit. He grabbed the culprit’s arm with both hands and, with a fair amount of effort, threw them into another criminal who was also running towards him. He let out another burst of electricity from his gloves as he did so, rendering that one unconscious as well. Then he ducked close to the ground, scooping up the knife the criminal dropped in surprise when he threw him, and dodged to the side, avoiding the sudden rush of every other criminal trying to grab him at once.

So that was two down, one temporarily out of commission as he tried to wiggle out from under the body of his friend. The one he’d hit with the crate was standing up, trying to pry open the lid. “Oh no, don’t you dare,” Schneep growled, lunging over towards the crate and grabbing one edge of it. The criminal looked up at him, shocked, then tried to punch him. He ducked, and swung the knife he’d picked up. The criminal ducked in turn, but didn’t notice that Schneep had also lunged forward, other hand coming from the other side and knocking him unconscious with a single hit. Three down.

Two of the remaining ones were now fighting with each other—as he’d predicted—and grappling in the corner. The one who’d been knocked down was standing again, recovering her bearings, and the other two were running at him. Quickly, he decided on a priority: get the crate full of guns out of reach of any of these people before taking them out. So naturally, he pushed it forward again. The two running at him leaped out of the way, clearly not wanting the same thing to happen to them as happened to their friend. Schneep took advantage of their distraction and ran after the crate, grabbing the edge of the dolly and swinging it around so it was facing the room’s door. Then he pushed it out, running after it.

“Hey!” They were shouting after him, but he couldn’t slow down. The crate, being large and heavy, was swiftly gaining momentum as it rolled down the hall. He managed to turn it through the open doorway leading to the front of the shop, but once it was in there, all he could do was aim it for the front entrance.

The crate easily smashed through the double doors and rolled out onto the street, impacting the side of a car—wait, a car?!

A siren started up, and blue lights started to flash through the blinds of the front window. Schneep let out a string of curses under his breath. He could either turn back and try to leave through the window or the side entrance, facing a small group of criminals with knives, or go through the front door and try to avoid who-knows-how-many police officers, none of whom liked him.

He thought about it for a split second before turning and going back into the back of the shop. Luckily, the criminals were also taken by surprise, so he managed to slip by them and out through the side entrance before they could. He started to run, but then paused. He grabbed one of the trash cans that he hadn’t used to get through the back window and pulled it in front of the side door, barring it. Then he started to run, heading towards the opposite end of the alley.

But then a bright yellow light shone into the alleyway. Schneep glanced behind him just long enough to confirm his first thoughts: car headlights. And a voice shouted, “You there!” and he turned and ran. Hopefully the still-falling rain would make it easy for him to lose them.

“Wait! Don’t run again!” Footsteps splashed behind him, but he didn’t stop. He ran until he reached the other end of the alley and emerged onto the opposite street. This side was empty. He glanced left, then right, then turned left and kept running. The footsteps were keeping pace with him, but if he could just get to a ladder or something he could lose them on the rooftops.

One of the streetlamps overhead was out, leaving a patch of shadow on the sidewalk and road. He ran underneath it and looked back towards the person behind—

Slip.

Because of the rain, the broken streetlamp, and that backwards glance, he didn’t see the water pooling on the sidewalk, or notice the curb that marked the corner of the street. One misstep was all it took for him to fall hard onto the street, hitting his head, and everything flashed white before fading to black.

———————

The pain was the first thing Schneep noticed when regaining consciousness. The back of his head felt like his skull had split open. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on...a seat of some kind. A sofa? Well, it was a hard and unusually small sofa if that was the case. He heard voices as well, or maybe just one, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so he ignored them and opened his eyes. Black spots danced in front of him, a shadowy face faded into his peripheral vision before fading away. Well, that was normal, so he ignored that, too. “Ja, piss off,” he muttered.

“Well, that’s a bit rude.”

That voice...sounded a bit more solid. And as he looked around his surroundings, it reinforced that first impression. He wasn’t lying on a sofa, but in the backseat of a car. Rain dotted the windows, and a light in the ceiling overhead lit up the scene in a yellow-white glow. He glanced towards the direction the voice had come from. And came face to face with Detective Kikelomo, sitting in the front seat of the car, looking around the back of the seat to stare at him.

His heart stopped. He realized he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore. Okay, time to disregard the slight murmurings that he could still hear, this was higher priority. After a moment of staring at her, frozen, he lurched into a sitting position and turned around to try and open the car door. That didn’t work, because first, it was locked, and second, the sudden motion sent a wave of nausea coursing through him. He groaned again, pressing his forehead to the car window and clenching his teeth.

“Be careful,” Kikelomo said. “You were out for a few minutes, and you might have a concussion. I was going to offer to drive you to the hospital after this.”

“Is fine,” Schneep said through gritted teeth. “I can take care of it.” Jackie would be waiting for him back at his apartment anyway. Though he didn’t like the idea of making him worried with a possible concussion, it was probably better to get his opinion first before taking it to a doctor who’d ask questions.

“Take care of it the way you took care of that puddle Rachel said you slipped in?” At this point, Schneep realized there was someone else in the car, in the front passenger seat. A woman, with blonde hair cut to chin-length. “Real nice for some superhero.”

“Shut...up.” Schneep squeezed his eyes shut. God, his head still hurt. But more importantly...“Am I being detained?”

“Well...” Kikelomo picked at the stitching on her leather seat, glanced over at the other woman, then looked back at Schneep. “No. Not exactly.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. Schneep looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

“That wasn’t my plan at all,” Kikelomo said. “Though...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t considering it. I was going back and forth, but then...well...that note convinced me.”

“Note?” Schneep asked, confused.

The other woman held up a folded piece of paper, a bit wet from the rain but not enough to lose its integrity. “This fell out of your...costume...when we were dragging you into the car. What’s this about, anyway?”

Schneep managed to sit up straight. “May I see that?”

The woman shrugged, and handed it over. He quickly unfolded it. There was a message written on it, in solid, straight handwriting. It read: To Rachel and Lydia. He means you no harm, and is no threat to you. I think you should let him go, because he’s currently dealing with something that your normal police can’t handle. It’d be better for everyone that way. Oh, and swing by that shop on Everett that you’ve been wanting to visit on Saturday :)

He read it a couple times, processing what it said. “I...have no idea what this is,” he finally admitted.

“Really?” Kikelomo said doubtfully.

“Really, I—” Schneep paused. “Oh.” Last week, when he’d gone to Marvin and JJ’s house. That magician friend of JJ’s, Aoife, had bumped into him. She said something weird about not getting rid of something ‘if he found it.’ This must be that something. “I understand now. It got slipped into one of my pockets, I did not even know it was there.”

Kikelomo still looked unsure. “Well...who put it there? And how did they know our first names?”

Schneep shrugged. “Someone who bumped into me. A stranger.” Not technically a lie, he wasn’t familiar with Aoife. But Marvin said she had divination magic. Had she...known this would happen?

“Alright, fine, let’s put that aside for now,” Kikelomo dismissed. “You’re not being detained, but I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Only if you let me ask you some first,” Schneep insisted. “How did you find me? What are you planning to do? Who is this other person?”

“My name’s Lydia,” the other woman said casually. “I’m her fiancée.”

“Ah. Okay. Then what are you doing here?”

“Helping. This was all her idea, but I thought I’d join in. And good thing I did, someone needed to bring the car around when you knocked yourself the fuck out just a street over from a police raid.”

“That is fair,” Schneep relented.

“Let me start with your first question,” Kikelomo said. “I know you follow a lot of the illicit activity in the city. So, I kept my ears open for any cases going on that you might be interested in. We got a tip that there were some negotiations going on between the Striped Snakes and Monte Blanca, and I thought you might be interested in that. Apparently it was a well-known fact in the underworld. So I just followed along with the investigation.” She paused. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be here,” she admitted.

Schneep took a moment to process this. “So...you were investigating, out on your own, with the possibility of getting in trouble for it...on the chance that you would run into me.”

“...yes,” Kikelomo mumbled.

“Hey, trust me Mr. Voltage Guy, this is the first time she’s done something like this,” Lydia said. She sounded rather upbeat about that fact, almost proud.

“But I knew I had to!” Kikelomo protested. “After you snuck into the records at the police station, it took me a while to realize I’d seen you before. Actually, Rya was the one who remembered. You’re a friend of Dr. Parker, aren’t you?” Schneep hesitated, not willing to answer. But that was enough. “I thought it was strange that you risked going into the station, but once I figured out you were friends with him—he disappeared, didn’t he? And so did his daughter and her friend? It’s an unusual set of circumstances, and since you like to take the law into your own hands, I figured you were trying to do something about it. Aren’t you?”

Schneep rolled his eyes, then winced as that caused a few more black spots to dance before his eyes. He really should get his head looked at soon. “You say that about taking the law into my own hands, but are you not doing the same thing, following me, tagging along on a case that wasn’t yours? Hmm?”

“I...” Kikelomo paused. “This is for my case. It’s my job to find out what happened to your friend and those kids, and if you can help—”

“Well I can’t,” Schneep interrupted.

Kikelomo blinked. “Look...I understand that you...have an operation...here. And I will admit, it does actually help in some circumstances, even if you break a thousand laws on the way. But clearly, whoever is behind this has skill. Not only have they managed to stay hidden this long, but I believe they somehow manipulated your friend’s and the kids’ memories, which is no small feat. In this case, the resources of the police are more qualified to handle this.”

At that, Schneep couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Kikelomo watched, shifting awkwardly in her seat and giving Lydia a few unsure glances. “Maybe I should...rephrase what I said,” Schneep finally said. “You cannot help me. You are not qualified for this. Trust me, I am barely qualified for this. And, quite frankly, you do not want to be involved. I often disagree with the saying ‘ignorance is bliss,’ but I think it applies in this situation.”

Kikelomo was unsure how to respond. She glanced at Lydia, who just shrugged and said, “Remember that note? It said something about the normal police not being able to handle this.”

“Even so, I can’t imagine a situation where you don’t want more hands on deck. Unless this is somehow...I don’t know, if the government is involved or if it’ll cause a scandal. But still, I’d think I’d pick up if this was something like that.”

“No, you wouldn’t. The people who want stuff like that under wraps are very good at keeping it that way.”

“Still.” Kikelomo glanced back over at Schneep, who said nothing. He didn’t care what she thought about this situation, as long as she left it alone. “We could provide protection for your friend—”

“No, you cannot,” Schneep said firmly.

And Kikelomo fell silent again. Then she slowly turned around and started the car. “If we’re not taking you to the hospital, where are we going?”

“Drop me off on the corner of Underhill and Yew,” Schneep said, pulling his mask back on despite knowing it wouldn’t help anymore. “And please stop following me. You are just making me paranoid all the time.”

The car ride that followed was awkward and silent, but luckily, it was soon over, and Schneep stepped out of the car and onto a rainy street. He didn’t move until they were gone, and then he sighed. Well, that was bad. He didn’t want anyone knowing his identity, much less a detective and her girlfriend. But hopefully, they’d drop the matter, and he’d never run into them again.

———————

Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed two days later.

It was getting towards the end of his work shift, and Schneep was ready to leave. Not for any particular reason, he just didn’t have the energy. He’d considered taking the day off for medical purposes by calling in and telling his manager that he’d hit his head a couple days ago and had to stay home. Even if Jackie said that he’d be alright, that would still be reason enough. But he’d decided against it on the grounds that he’d already taken a few days off and risked losing his job if he did it again.

So here he was. Staring at the wall clock in the chance that it’ll go faster if he watched it. Then he heard the familiar sound of the front entrance opening and closing and Jennifer, his coworker, said, “Could you get that? I’m working on the order for the last guys.”

Sighing, he nodded, and headed out to the front counter. “Hello, welcome to Latte Lake, what can I—” Then he stopped. “You are fucking kidding me.”

The pair of customers who’d just walked in were none other than Detective Kikelomo and Lydia. Clearly off-duty, wearing casual street clothes and looking relaxed, but it was them nonetheless. And they looked just as surprised as he did. “Ohhh, that’s why the note said to come here,” Lydia muttered.

“The note—oh.” Schneep took a deep breath as he remembered the last line of the note Aoife had put in his suit. Something about the two of them going to a shop on Everett. The street where Latte Lake, the shop he worked at, was located. That should have rang a few bells when he read it, but there were a lot of shops on the street, and he’d had more pressing matters on his mind. “The next time I see that—that magician, I am going to kill her,” he muttered.

“Sounds like someone really wanted us to continue the conversation, if you ask me,” Kikelomo said, sounding a bit smug.

“Can we not do this now?” Schneep asked. “Do you know how much of a—how bad of an asshole you have to be to do something like this while someone is at work, and cannot leave? An awful one. No. Stop this.”

“Ah...well, sorry,” Kikelomo muttered. “But we didn’t come here intending to do that. We just wanted to check out the cute little cafe.” She paused. “Alright, this is the last thing I’ll say. Are you sure you don’t need our help? I mean, we’re professionals and you’re...well, you’re very good, but it’s different.”

Schneep rubbed his eyes. “Look. I do not say this because I hate you, or any of the pol—the people you work with. I say this because you literally cannot help. You cannot catch Dis—the person behind this. You cannot do anything to him. Anything you can think of will not work. We are...are just...surviving. Avoiding him. We are working on stopping him, but so far, we cannot. And you will not be any better at it. I promise you.”

Kikelomo thought about this. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“I—” Schneep choked. Even letting that slip was too much. “No. Don’t. I am asking you politely, stop talking about this. I can go in the back and just stay there, I am only talking to you out of courtesy. Just...stop. Give it up.”

Lydia nudged Kikelomo. “Hey Rachel? Maybe drop it for now.”

And Kikelomo sighed. “Alright. I’ll drop it for now. But this isn’t over, I can promise you that. I’m a detective. I will figure out what’s going on.”

“And when you do, you will see how right I am,” Schneep said stubbornly. “Now if you will excuse me.” He turned around and called out, “Jennifer? Are you okay with switching?”

“Yeah, sure, Henrik,” Jennifer replied, not noticing the way Schneep winced as she said his name out loud in front of the detective. Silently, he switched places with her, and things went back to normal as Kikelomo and Lydia placed orders, sat down to wait, and then eventually left the shop once their orders were ready.

His shift ended soon after that, and he practically ran out of the door and down towards the bus stop. As he waited for the bus to arrive, he wondered. Should he have told them the truth? It may have been unbelievable, with magicians and a man out of time and a strange gray smiling creature tormenting them all. But maybe he could have convinced them?

No. No, it was just too unbelievable. And he didn’t want to be judged for it, especially when the person doing the judging had the power to do something about it. His situation was just too precarious, being a vigilante in a city where that was illegal. He couldn’t risk a detective having a low opinion of him.

Still, he was sure that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see Detective Kikelomo. If she was so determined to figure out what was going on...maybe she’d be able to find the truth. And when that happened, Schneep would be happy to accept whatever help she offered. But he wasn’t going to be the one making the first move. He simply couldn’t afford to.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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swimyghost · 3 years ago

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I decided to write a little ficlet about @self-insert-nonsense Resident Evil Village OC Elise. I hope y’all enjoy

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He did it. The famous Ethan Winters actually did it.

Elise had tried to pull him out of the Dimistrescu estate while he traversed the castle, but her foolish nieces had been chasing him around like chickens without their heads. She had elected to catch him if he managed to make it outside.

She was heavily regretting her decision.

Elise watched as the beastly form of her sister, a form she never knew existed, smash its way out of the castle to pursue the man. She tried to climb up the walls to stop either one of them from killing each other. That plan failed as Ethan fired his last sniper shot into the once-powerful Alcina Dimistrescu’s head, sending them both crashing down from the tower they were standing on and landing on the stone bottom. The sixth member of the strange Cadou bearing family waited until the Winters man fled the scene to see if what she had witnessed was true.

“Sister?” she muttered quietly, stepping over the broken stone. “...Sister? Lady Dimistrescu? ...ALCINA!”

The mixture of dust and its crystalline counterpart cemented her worse fears. Her older sister, the vampiric lord, Alcina Dimistrescu, laid dead. She froze only for a moment before rushing to search the rest of the now eerily silent castle, praying to anyone that could hear her pleas that the three Dimistrescu daughters were alive.

First, she found Bela, next Daniela, and finally, Cassandra. After seeing the remains of the last of Alcina’s kin, Elise had to choke back a cry. Her cries were referred to by her lover Heisenburg as Banshee Shrieaks, though her brother Moreau called them Siren Screams. Whatever her wails were, the Irish lord had to keep her true feelings buried within as to not alert Ethan that someone remained. Despite her reluctance to show her inner emotions, Elise’s brain was forcing her to remember every detail she had in regards to the Dimistrescu family.

Meeting Alcina for the first time. The tall vampire woman comforting her after being injected and surviving the Cadou parasite. Watching as three little botflies grew into beautiful young ladies. Tea parties, balls, hunts, every moment flooded her senses.

“That bastard!” Elise howled, smashing through a nearby window and climbing down the now empty castle’s walls. Heisenberg’s plan was already going to shit. Her lover wanted the Winters man as an ally for his uprising against Mother Miranda, the Ruler of the Lords, and Elise.

“That creepy crow bitch needs to go down,” he told her after all the lords returned to their domains. His factory wasn’t technically her home, but Heisenburg hated the fact she lived so close to his extremely Miranda-devoted brother’s land so they arranged for her to make the metalsmith’s home hers. “She’ll kill us once Eva is revived. I can feel it.”

Elise had traced circles on his bare sweat covered chest, only partially listening. “So, we’re going to release the army? Just like that? You’re a fool if you think that’ll work.”

“What?” he snarled.

“Let’s see,” Elise began to count on her fingers, “not only is half of that BSAA group knocking on our doorstep, but Captain Boulder-Puncher and his lackeys are hiding in the shadows, and that girl’s father is walking around free. Something you let happened.”

Heisenburg snorted. “All a part of my plan. You’ve heard the rumors about the Baker’s residence, haven’t you? Ethan Winters will aid us. He just needs a little encouragement.”

“I suppose that’s where I come in?”

“You’re the fastest out of the two of us. Besides, you can get near that mega bitch’s castle without being killed on site. That is where you chased him to, right?”

“It’s not like he wasn’t going to go there anyway,” Elise huffed. “If I was a man looking for his kid, a giant fucking castle in the middle of the mountains is the place I go to first.”

Heisenburg had let out a small chuckle, reaching for his cigar. “I guess you’re right.”

Elise stopped him and pulled his face close to her, her eyelids half-closed. “I’m going to need some… Encouragement, if I’m going to be running around after another man.”

Her lover let out one of his famous wolf-like grins. “And I’ll be happy to provide.”

All of that talk was worthless to her now. The Fifth Lord wished she would’ve slapped some sense into her man but it was too late now. Her sister the “mega-bitch” and her daughters were dead and Elise had no clue where their killer might’ve run off to. She crashed landed onto a pile of snow, sending white flakes all over the landscape.

“Impressive form as always, Miss Brighid.”

Elise whipped her head only to be greeted with the smirking face of a monstrously obese man. He had hidden away in a wooden cart and was currently scratching at his stomach mass. Elise bared her teeth at the man. “I don’t need your commentary, Duke, I need answers.”

The Duke didn’t seem phased by the woman’s harsh tone. “Always straight to business, just like your main squeeze, Lord Heisenburg.”

She could feel her eyelid twitching. “Duke.”

“Right, I’m guessing you’re looking for Mr. Winters?”

“Mister Winters?” Elise snarled.

“I treat all my customers with respect, Miss Brighid.”

“He’s a customer!?”

Elise never understood why Mother Miranda allowed this behemoth to roam the village. He held no alliance to anyone and sold to anything that held a purse full of Lei. Even after years sent replicating the files and notes Mother Miranda had on everyone and everything slightly related to the village and her cause, barely anything was written about the strange merchant. The most both Heisenberg and Elise managed to gather was that “The Duke shall be allowed to do his business with little supervision as he provides valuable goods for both the villagers, the Lords, and [Mother Miranda’s] cause”. Regardless of what former feelings she held for The Duke, the current Elise was struggling to not rip his throat out.

“But of course! The man has things to sell and items to purchase for his little journey.” The Duke explained, talking to her as if she were a child who needed her hand held.

“Those items led to my sis- Lady Dimistrecu’s death! She is- She was- Argh!”

Elise buried her fingers into her scalp. Her mind was seemingly whirling and spinning as it struggled to process its surroundings. Her feelings fluctuated from feral-like rage to sheer confusion to inescapable sadness. The Duke noticed and leaned in, his caravan creaking as he tried to look at the distressed woman’s face.

“I see the Cadou is still inflicting its poison into your brain. Are you feeling… What did Lord Heisenberg say… Fragmented? Perhaps I have a salve that can help settle your-”

“Shut up! Just shut up before I-”

The woman couldn’t finish her threat as a burning sensation rose in her throat. She gagged and stumbled backward. Elise managed to angle her head in just a way so the puddle of magma she vomited up didn’t touch herself in any way. Both she and The Duke watched the magma rapidly burned away the snow and dead plant life. Elise returned her gaze to The Duke and noticed the man was grimacing.

“Pardon my crudeness, Miss Brighid, but that was revolting.”

“I don’t take any pleasure either, Duke,” Elise replied, still trying to catch her breath.

“Luckily none of the locals saw that. The rumors about you have grown even nastier as of late. I believe they’ve begun to call you the- forgive my language -the Lady Whore and the Faux-Lord.” The Duke said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“I know what you are trying to do, lardass!” Elise hissed. “Screw those mortal bastards and their pathetic drivel! They’re all gonna die anyway so what’s the point of trying to piss me off!”

The Duke chuckled. “This is funny. The old Miss Brighid would’ve instantly run to the village to invoke some personal justice against those who soiled her good name.”

“Well the old Miss Brighid didn’t have a killer father running amok, now did she?” Elise ground her teeth. “Speaking of, where is he? Where is the Winters man?”

The Duke leaned back and picked at his teeth with the help of his pinky nail. “I believe Mr. Winters was headed towards Lady Beneviento’s residence.”

Elise’s blood ran cold at that name. Her sister Donna Beneviento didn’t have any of her other siblings’ regenerative powers. She sadly had to rely on the body’s natural healing process and the medicine she crafted from her flowers. If Winters managed to land a clean shot on the silent maiden…

She has Angie and her hallucinogens if anything were to go wrong, she’ll be fine! Elise tried to convince herself. She had seen men who were the pinnacle of mental and physical health turn to sobbing, fragile-minded shells of their former selves due to Donna’s plants. Maybe she could get the jump on Winters instead of the other way around. But that wasn’t a bet she was willing to make.

I’ve already lost four family members, I cannot lose more!

“It hasn’t been a pleasure seeing you, Duke,” Elise glared at the man. Before he could say anything, the Cadou wielder shot off towards the mountains where her sister’s manor lied in wait. The cold nipped at her skin but Elise persisted.

I need to hurry. Screw Karl’s plan, I need to protect my family!

#implied sex #ficlet #major character death #resident evil village spoilers #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 #donna beneviento #lady beneviento #the duke #resident evil the duke #fanfic #angst

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haleviyah · 3 years ago

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A Hispanic/ Latino Perspective: Border Clarification

This is one of the rare times I’m going to get somewhat political here, but these comments spread by the media are hitting to way close to home for me, so here I go.

Before you pounce on me, let me explain this: I am a moderate. I favor no sides, I don’t treat people by their titles but rather I prefer to judge by character even though I am not the best at it, admittedly. I favour and respect those who keep their word and own their mistakes. In short, if you do what you promise to do, you have my approval whereas if not, you will bear the brunt of my blunt rebukes and sarcastic remarks.

I am also from South Texas, specifically the Rio Grande Valley, and am a descendent of two humble Mexican families who since the Mexican Border War have made Texas their great escape and home.

Bit of a geographical reference, if you don’t know here where the Rio Grande Valley is. Look at the state of Texas, there is a bulge of state going in each direction that makes it look like a fat, lower-case ”t” : El Paso is the most West of the state, the Panhandle (Amarillo) the Northmost, Texarkana the most Eastward followed by Houston, and WAAAAAAY at the bottom is Brownsville and the Southernmost tip of Texas.

And for those of you too lazy to Google or "DuckDuckGo" the map yourself I've attached it:

The four counties: Hidalgo, Cameron, Starr and Willacy county make up the Rio Grande Valley. This is the region I grew up, the place where I experienced the best of a community and the worst of politics and failed promises.

For a bit of background: I have a parent working on the Border and they have been for many years (since I was a kid). Pretty much worked from a security officer to trooper within the span of a decade which is quite impressive and rare considering they never took bribes or anything to get where they were currently. They have told me off and on what their job is like. It’s crazy and boring some days, but also they have admitted somethings that may be fascinating. One of which is, yes, they do own horses and the reason why is so the Troopers can maneuver around tough terrain vehicles cannot go through (such as high water or narrow foot paths in brush). HOWEVER, they DO NOT OWN WHIPS. They don’t even own lassos, according to my Border Agent parent.

The only weapons agents on horse back have is a Glock, ammo, a taser, cuffs, and sometimes shot guns (but they prefer to carry light for the horses and themselves to be more flexible). They mainly carry items that would slow a person down or prevent them from hurting other people, officer or civilian; not for killing. So a whip is absolutely redundant or even absurd to have.

Those long ropes the Troopers are holding are called reins, and they are designed for steering a horse (horses cannot move opposite of the direction of their head; where their head is pointed they move in that direction). They are not made for whipping people, but rather made to get the horse’s attention. That’s it.

I took the liberty of highlighting the reins in red for you all as well as their arms and legs in blue and yellow in contrast to the reins and saddle.

It's clear from a Texan's or horse-riders perspective this Trooper almost fell off catching the other fellow and was holding onto the left rein for dear life hence why the horse looked distressed and its cheek was pulled back.

I'm not joking, you fucking try it if you're so damn horse-smart.

Now, let's look at a more relaxed position.

In short, if you haven't ridden a horse, I advise to keep your comments to yourself on this part. I have and it's way harder than it looks (horses can get cocky).

Second thing, the migrants.

Personally, I don’t know why they were so squirrelly that day. Perhaps they were spooked because they’ve never expected horse back riders to show up, maybe they had some bad experiences back home.

I don’t know!

But it’s clear there appears to be a lack of communication. Perhaps it’s the language barrier given that these guys came from Haiti, African countries and Brazil. English they probably know, but they probably don’t speak a lick of Spanish (Which both languages are mandatory for the Border Patrol).

(Again, I don't know...)

So the reasons why they started running circles around the Troopers’ horses is not for me to speculate, it’s not for YOU to defend blindly, nor is it up for the media to interpret and evangelize.

That should be left to the people to explain. No one else.

(Update: September 29th. I received a tip from a source that the Haitian immigrants (mainly) are not running from anything, they aren’t seeking asylum nor were in poverty as the media claims. They have admitted upon interview they were what we consider middle-low class and had no issues finding jobs before they decided to migrate northward. They’re just coming because they were told to come by “you-know-who”… that’s all. I know, I’m taken aback and scratching my head, too… but anyway. I digress, but do take note.)

Now, another bit of feedback I want to share: When it comes to dealing with Troopers (again, must I remind you this is a Border Patrol agent’s kid speaking), big rule:

DO NOT RUN nor MAKE THREATENING MOVEMENTS. Be calm.

It’s a simple rule, if you’re cool with the Troopers they’ll be cool with you. That’s it. Please respectfully keep in mind, these guys are trained to be safe rather than sorry. So patience and understanding with them is a must. Trust me, I’ve met my parent’s co-workers, they may look stoic and scary or condescending, but they can not let personal emotions interfere their work otherwise they risk safety.

They’re not “paranoid” or “harsh” they just have a job they cannot afford to fuck up otherwise the whole region is FUCKED. They’re the front line of defense, and do keep that in mind.

(Another footnote: I have seen Border Patrol offices, and without giving away how they function it’s not like CIA or Langley level of clean or fancy, so don’t think their offices are high tech and have marble floors with comfy lounges that cost a lot of money. Upon first glance you won’t expect the building to be an office. Border Patrol work with what they have available which isn’t a lot thanks to the ’00, ’04, ’08, ’12 and current administrations. That’s all I can give out.)

I’m going to come clean here and say the citizens in the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of Texas DO NOT FEEL SAFE with a border this wide open and no regulation is applied. Especially the Hispanic/Latino communities. So the pressure is on - and I mean REALLY on! Despite these guys working the Border are overwhelmed, they keep those emotions and opinions on lockdown when on the field. Like I said: If they fuck up, the region is fucked.

Bit of a history lesson: the Border issues on the Rio Grande are not new. Matter of factly, this problem has been happening for decades (The popular peak was during the 80s when cocaine was being distributed), but it was more than just cocaine and pot: Kids were going missing, people getting killed, women were used as mules and sold for sex, etc.

If you watched “Narcos” or “Sicario” you have a brief, dramatized taste of how the cartels function and what life is like for us Latinos. However, coming from someone who grew up there, the parts of watching your back, the abductions and even the gruesome murders are legit. To this day I remember seeing local news coverage (not CNN or MSNBC, our own stations down in the McAllen/Brownsville area) of beheadings, child murders and bodies being found in pieces… It’s something I hope my children won’t have to grow up hearing almost weekly like I did. Now it’s daily… and no one cares. And that hurts.

In the grand scheme of things, at least know this: South Texas has been part of the Cartel battle grounds and it’s obvious we’ve seen shit. Constantly being ignored is the payment we get for being front lines in the Drug War. So don’t blame us for being jumpy, or skeptical, nor even try convince us that the current surplus of immigrants is a good thing.

You can’t argue with our own experiences and history. The way things work down here is simple: You fight along side us, we fight along side you.

It’s called building trust, practicing faith. But we’ve been forgotten and lied to too many times by celebrities and politicians and social movements alike. And those who actually were going to help us are either shut down or unfortunately killed.

We just can’t trust anyone anymore. We are resorting to fending for ourselves basically, speaking up for ourselves… and so far it’s making progress in the mean time.

This level of “doing things on your own” bleeds into why our Troopers are trained they way they are trained - to expect the worst case scenario. To prepare themselves for the corpses, when a criminal pounces, the drugs being hid, for when they find a child with an adult they don’t know, or even a woman who was violated. They just genuinely don’t want to take chances and you just read why. Even my in-laws up in the Northern Midwest are disturbed.

So, considering the case of what happened a few days ago in Del Rio, Texas (as of writing this on September 25th 2021): If you run from a Trooper the first thing they are going to think is either two things:

You did something bad upon coming in to the country or

You don’t want your former government to find you because you did crimes in your home country or the country you were hiding in.

This is protocol, not biased opinions.

If, however, a Trooper commits any form of irresponsibility (such as abusing their power, unreasonable search and seizures etc.) it’s “kiss your badge good-bye” and DEMOTED or FIRED. The stakes of keeping your job in the Border Patrol are HIGH, so they are trained not to act out of line. Even a minor slip up in paper work from being fatigued gets you in SEVERE trouble with the Higher Ups and the County (Yes, that does happen and has happened). But you have to KNOW Border Patrol standards before you accuse them of anything.

With that being said, what’s floating around is not a constructive argument; it’s a distraction. How the public is demanding the trooper in the photo to be fired, tells us Latinos loud and clear that - once again - no one cares about our livelihood; no one is willing to brave enough to face the real hell going on. We are ignored or low-key demonized for simply defending ourselves.

(Now, you guys are seeing why I relate to my Jewish husband and the Israeli’ citizens - Arab and Jew - more; we’re pretty much in the same boat in the case of being ignored. But I digress.)

Before I come to a conclusion, here are other demographic facts to keep in mind that way it’ll help draw conclusions:

86.6% of the Border Patrol is HISPANIC/LATINO in the State of Texas alone.

A majority of children stolen from their families or molested are HISPANIC/LATINO.

A majority of the women violated immigrants on the border are mainly HISPANIC/LATINO.

Latin America collectively (Mexico down to Colombia and Venezuela) has the highest rates of femicide in the world.

So for you or anyone to get angry at Border Patrol agents in an unjust manner, not only are you getting mad at Hispanics and Latinos in UNIFORM for fighting to keep their communities safe, but you are actively contributing to the hell our families go through every day.

When you protest in demand for our cops or even troopers to be defunded, and fired for petty things, YOU are actively contributing to the problem of human trafficking, rape, kidnappings and murder that happens on the border. You are contributing to the Hispanic and Latino communities being dismantled and disintegrated by people who potentially want to kill us or hate us for money’s sake.

Take all of that into consideration before you get angry at anyone here.

In short:

I’ll only consider the accusations if you yourselves have been there and know the burdens we bear.

I’ll only consider your judgement if you genuinely are in law enforcement and know how to ride a horse and try to stop someone from running while riding the beast.

I’ll only consider your feedback if you don’t rely heavily on news like CNN, Telemundo and Tumblr for your information.

Until you grab a gun and fight the cartel yourself, and figure out a way to end this war on human trafficking, don’t come to us Latinos and express that you care and appreciate us.

Because frankly if you GENUINELY did, you’d bring to light what I just said and be slamming the desks at D.C. and DEMANDING the Border to be CLOSED by now.

Regardless of your political and personal beliefs, this is what is REALLY going on, and we’re going to keep fighting. Like the Israeli’s we don’t give a fuck if you hate us. We’re not radicals, we’re not blood-thirsty heathens, we’re not white supremacists (80+% of our population is of Latino Mexican descent) we’re just fed up with running away and being taken advantage of or taken for granted by people who value money over the lives of our neighbors.

If this were California, fine! Rail all you want, cuss us out as much as you want; hold us to those to California standards you keep yourself. But we’re not California.

We’re not D.C., nor Chicago, nor L.A., or New York, Florida, Canada, Mexico or whatever. We are SOUTH TEXAS so treat us as SOUTH TEXAS.

Honor us for who we are and hold us to the standards of what is SOUTH TEXAS, what is The United States Constitution, and the Texas Constitution; nothing more and nothing less. Don’t tear us down for what we’re not nor hold us accountable to an opinion or law we never agreed to nor knew existed.

That’s all I ask: If you’re not willing to honour our community and help us while holding us to our standards on a cultural, State or Federal level, back the fuck off. Generations we’ve dealt with the pressure from both the cartel and corrupt government from both the U.S. and Mexico, and the last thing we need is pampered kids living in the high rises or going to university on loans from school or your parents' paychecks, telling us how to deal with our issues.

You are FAR from a place to tell us how to function and resolve our war.

I’m not trying nor want to start a fight or otherwise, but I’m simply, humbly asking: when did we ever genuinely ask you “social justice advocates” to be our hero?

When did we ever ask you to fight for us or talk about what you think is wrong with us? Because last I checked we don’t want to drag anyone into our battles.

Also, we only know one messiah, but we never asked you to be him nor for him to act like you.

Did you start throwing punches because you wanted to find something to excuse your anger and outbursts, or is your good intentions married with ignorance?

Either case… it’s extremely unhealthy of you, and please just stop before another person gets hurt. We don’t want that. This is no different from the Crusades our ancestors took part in, and it will only end in more carnage than already sown.

So, just please, stop and take a step back for a moment. We don’t need anymore vehement evangelical-like people who just think with their ideals and not take a moment to have a healthy discussion with the One who created us, or let alone divorce their lust for a fight for ten seconds.

To close this off, even though I haven’t been home in a while, I know the spirit and the struggles the Rio Grande Valley goes through. I have met people on the run from the cartel first hand, and I have met people who may have ties with the cartel. I have seen some creepy shit, I have grown frustrated over the Protestant Baptist church doing nothing, and I have even been feeling the pressure my parent goes through with these apathetic riots threatening their job as a Border Patrol agent.

But aside from the pain, I am tremendously blessed that people and my family are still very optimistic despite the craziness and how bleak things are.

The family-oriented culture of the Rio Grande Valley is what is keeping it together… not trends, not clout and neither these guys in D.C. or Hollywood who are playing G-d.

It's the family-oriented connection. Our faith, that's keeping us going.

And even though I may not be the best voice of that region to speak up, I am blessed to have been there and I do plan on coming back soon.

I am planning on giving a more fun journal featuring the culture of the Rio Grande Valley in the future to finish this month off, but for the sake of this “Hispanic Heritage Month” I wanted to share our REAL issues we deal with rather than the made up ones that media likes to mainstream for money and clout.

In a way, I hope this offers clarity and a level of empathy. Again, I’m not sharing this to start fights or get sympathy - we don’t want it. We just want to know if our fights are not ignored, we just want to know we are heard.

That’s all.

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ominouslyqueer · 4 years ago

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The doll was a bit of an oddity among the daycare employees. The kids loved it, which in and of itself could be considered odd, but then again kids will latch on to the weirdest, creepiest things with ease, their minds not yet filled with horror stories about dolls with sunken eyes and faded skin, who seem to stare as you walk around the room. They just saw a vessel to play, and its looks didn't really factor in too much, especially at that age. Kids are going to be kids, and so they don't notice when the employees avoid touching the doll, or being in the same room if they can help it.

It's of little surprise that the employees are not so welcoming to the doll. If it weren't for the fact that the kids adored it (and that had led to several talks about sharing when that love caused conflicts on whose turn it was), they'd have chucked it a long time ago.A few of the oldest employees remembered when it arrived, in its own box among the several that came from the big, old house up on the hill.

Apparently it was passed down from one child to the next, until family line died out and it was left sitting on an empty bed, found by a distant cousin who came to collect their inheritance. The toys were boxed up, the more antique ones sold, and the rest sent to the local daycare where they could be enjoyed once more. Most were a hit, but the doll was special, seeming to connect with every child in a way that drove many to tears when they had to leave her at the end of the day. Another factor that led the employees to do little beyond sitting her in her designated corner during cleanup before doing their best to ignore her completely.

Of course, there would have to be more to explain their feelings for the doll, that for many only barely fell below true fear. The doll possessed many qualities about it, watching eyes, an uneasy grin, hair that no matter what would always end up back in the neat, tight braid. But this was not enough to unsettle them, no, that would be what happened during the night. Because no matter what the doll underwent during the day, the rough play causing lost arms or legs, chunks or hair or even once the button eyes, by the following morning she would once more be in her pristine, creepy glory. At one point they had tried to take her from the building, but again she had appeared, the employee who had taken her home confused and unwilling to even touch her again after that.

They had been worried for the kids, keeping an eye out for anything strange. They had come to the conclusion that some form of spirit was present, and the more religious ones worried that it could be demonic. At one point they had tried an exorcism even, but the same things kept occurring anyways.

The kids didn't notice anything amiss, just continuing to play with her until her fabric skin was worn right through and her stuffing spread across the floor, only to wind up all in one piece the next morning. She never seemed to do anything to the kids themselves, and no parent ever complained of nightmares or whatever other influences such a presence may have had. So, the majority of them decided that whatever was present was simply benign, and for whatever reason wished to spend their eternity with the chaos that is a room full of toddlers. The few who truly feared her managed to ignore her, though their hands were never far from any religious or spiritual items for protection.

That day hadn't been unusual in any way. The kids arrived, bringing with them their endless energy and desire for play. There were laughs, cries, tears, snacks, a single full-on breakdown from a particularly upset kid, and a thoroughly exhausted set of employees by the time the kids went home. That day had had a senior employee and two juniors, who were waved away by their superior when time to clean up. He enjoyed the calmness that followed the storm of children leaving the building, and cleaning was always more of a ritual than a chore. He wouldn't do it every night, but at least once a week he would take the chance to simply go about his duties alone, taking the time and care that showed just how long he had been doing this.

He was one of the oldest employees there, having arrived just after the infamous doll herself. He had quickly become a favorite, always calm and collected around the kids, but always quick with a smile or a joke for anyone who wanted to hear it. He had had many opportunities to rise above his role as caretaker, but he liked his job, and so he stayed put. He'd even met his wife here, one of the kids' mothers who laughed at even the worst of his jokes. It had helped that her daughter had loved him already from meeting with him each day. Now, she was entering college, and he was where he always was.

Slowly but surely, he makes his way through the small building. He cleans up the kitchen, the bathroom and the lobby, picking his way through the building as he wipes up spills and puts away books and toys. He clears up the yard outside, making sure the fence is still latched tightly shut. Once a child had managed to slip through, and it had been a stressful half hour before he had been found, playing under a tree calmly with the doll. He told them she had said to stay put before he ran further, and so he did. That itself had caused some more worries and weird feelings about the toy, but since it seemed she had been helpful overall, nothing more was said.

He enters the toy room last, always the final part of his cleaning routine. Immediately his eyes are drawn to her. She made it through the day mostly intact, the only flaw a small rip in her left leg. He cleans up the other toys, before moving to her, delicately picking up the small bits of stuffing that had fallen to the floor before lifting her too. He sits at the desk, the only adult-sized piece of furniture in the room, and sits her down on top of it so she's facing him. Carefully, he starts poking the stuffing back into her leg, a soft smile on his face as he does.

"It wasn't too bad again today. This bunch seem to be learning for the most part to be more careful."

For a moment his words just hang in the air, only silence answering him. He doesn't worry though, content to wait as he continues his work. It's about half a minute later when, between one blink and the next, there's a woman leaning on the desk besides him. She's tall, though barely taller than he is, a fact that he pointed out to her countless times. At first glance she seemed solid, but he knew how to catch the slight wavering of her form, as though her hold on this plane was slightly wavering.

He didn't look up, focusing still on making sure that all the pieces were returned to their proper place, but he knew if he did he'd be met with a smiling face and sparkling brown eyes that seemed far too alive to be a part of the spirit they were attached to. A small laugh rings out from beside him, and he lets his smile broaden until its a full grin.

"Well they always do once they've been here long enough. I've no doubt you have some influence in that."

Her voice is warm, matching her gaze as he finally turns to meet it. Her hair is in the usual braid, the silvering brown curling down her back. She's about fifty, dressed in jeans and a flowery blouse that flows around her, moved by a wind he cannot feel. She is lit from within with a blue glow, the only thing that truly marks her as otherworldly. Still, he is surprised at just how human she looks, and that thought lets him return his eyes to the work at hand.

"Well someone needs to teach them. Not everything in this world is as forgiving as you are when they play too roughly." He reaches into the drawer beside him, where his faithful sewing kit lays waiting. He picks a needle and thread, and begins sewing shut the small tear. Any trace of it will be gone by morning of course, but he hopes that doing this will at least help at reducing the amount of energy required to make that happen.

She lays a hand on his shoulder, though as always he barely feels the touch. Still, he doesn't hesitate to cover it with his own, feeling as though at any second his hand will fall through hers. It holds steady though, and they smile at each other.

"You are always so good to them, a fact that I have always loved. David seems to have especially been taken with you this year, the boy follows you around like a lost duckling. I'm pretty sure he's trying to copy your every move."

"Well I don't mind it much, he's a nice kid. It helps that he's never been too rough with you, or any of the other toys." Taking back his hand, he quickly finishes off the stitches, tying the red thread tight. He makes sure the doll is still stable in its sitting position, before standing up, moving to lean besides her. It makes talking easier, and even if he excuses it with complaints about stiff knees from sitting too long, he likes being able to talk to her again face-to-face.

"Well you can't hold it against them if they cause a few tears or scrapes, be it on us or themselves. They're kids, they are going to learn the way they learn most things, through clumsy and dedicated experiments with the world and all that's in it." She laughs, the sound floating throughout the room. "Do you remember that one girl, Emma? She was so curious about how everything was built, and every piece that went into it. I thought you were going to cry when you found her after she'd pulled every piece of me apart. I think that was the sternest you've ever been with anyone."

"Well I certainly didn't want that happening again, though I know you don't mind. It was more just letting her know that she shouldn't do that with other people's possessions that being upset with her for doing it at all." He shrugged. "I spoke with her parents too, and they were sure to supply her with a surplus of toys specifically to pull apart to keep her happy."

"Of course you did, I'm not surprised."

He feels his face heat up at her words, as well as the overwhelmingly soft look on her face. She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, and even if it's barely there he leans into it.

"You always did your best to make sure everyone was happy and safe."

Pulling the hand away after a moment, she seems content to simply sit in silence, the two of them just enjoying being together. It is only when he is once again reminded of the constant question in his mind that he finds himself speaking once more, the calm night giving him the push that he'd needed to give voice to it.

"Why have you stayed, all these years? It takes so much of your energy to fix yourself almost every night, and at times you seem so tired that it is hard to watch. So... why?"

She doesn't answer right away, though his question clearly doesn't surprise her. She seems to mull over his words, picking the right ones to say in response. Finally, she sighs, the sound happy and calm as she meets his eyes once more.

"The children... they feel so strongly, you know? The happiness, sadness, anger, fear, it's all so new to them so when it happens it encompasses all that they are. Either the world is wonderful, or it's terrifying, and there's no in between. The way that they love is exactly that." She runs a hand through her hair, the few that had fallen free from her braid tangling slightly around her fingers.

"They love with everything that they are, and even if that love comes with tears and worn through holes and lost eyes I find that I can't just leave it behind. I was broken when Alison and I found out children weren't in our future, but being around the kids here, it helps. It's fixing the hole that's existed within me for as long as I can remember. Maybe one day it will be enough, and I will be able to move on. But for now... I find I don't want to go."

She seems lost in thought for a time, and he just leaves her to it, his own mind taking in all she had told him. He's drawn out of it when she nudges him in the side, the melancholy look that had taken over her face while she spoke replaced with the usual soft smile.

"Of course, you being here helps." She ruffles his hair, despite his half-hearted protests. "It always has, you know that."

"Doesn't hurt to hear it though." He jokes, pushing the wayward curls back into some form of order.

She grins, though it fades after a moment and she seems to hesitate. When the words do come, he's surprised by the trepidation that lines her tone, as though she is unsure whether she wants to know the answer.

"Erik, I feel like I should ask you the same thing. You have a life, unlike some, and there are so many things you could be doing with it. I know you love the children here as much as I do, but to stay here for all these years? Why?" Her voice wavers near the end, and though they do not fall he can see her eyes are bright with tears. He quickly reaches for her hand, enfolding it in between his as he ducks his head to catch her gaze from where she had averted it. It's only when she's looking at him that he answers, trying to fill his voice with all the love he felt for her in that moment.

"Well, part of it is as you said. I love the kids, and everyone here, they make my days so full of joy and laughter. But," He pauses, making sure she's listening. "A big part of why I came here in the first place is you, you know. I chose to make my life here because you wanted to stay."

She opens her mouth, undoubtedly to protest, but he lifts a hand to stop her.

"That doesn't mean I was forced to, or that you are holding me back from the life I could have had. I love it here, and I love you, and I chose to make my life into what it is now. Maybe I could be somewhere else, doing something that isn't this. But even if that would have made me happy, it doesn't change the fact that I am already so happy here, with you, and with the kids." He sighs, looking down at their joined hands. "Maisie and I talked long and hard about all of this, you know that. The finances are stable and Bea is nice and happy at her school. Especially now that she's all grown, I love the time that I spend here, the kids fill my life with purpose, and the fact that you're here too just makes that purpose even greater."

Now the tears do fall, slightly glowing as they roll down her cheeks, and she lets go of his hands only to throw her arms around him. He welcomes the embrace, happy to just let her cry.

Though she had had no children of her own, no one to give the doll that had been given to her by her own mother, she had doted on him growing up. His mother and her were closer than sisters, though not related by blood, and he had grown up running through the old halls of the house up on the hill. When she had passed, he had been heartbroken, which was made worse when he discovered that the doll that had meant the world to her had just been given away by the distant cousin who now owned the home.

He had worked hard to track it down, but when he had found her he had learned of how happy she made the kids. So, instead of taking her away, he decided instead to stay. It had only taken a week for him to discover she wasn't actually gone, having nearly passed out from shock when she first appeared to him one night when he was the only one left in the building. However, that shock quickly turned to joy, and having discovered the true passion he felt towards his new life's path, he had settled quite happily into the routine they had held for the past few decades.

He was as unwilling to leave her as she was to leave the kids, and it wouldn't shock him if when his time came, he joined her until the both of them could move on together. He had discussed the matter with his dear Maisie, and she had simply laughed, telling him she'd known that from the moment he had told her about the truth of the doll. Quite a remarkable woman, his wife, and he couldn't wait until the time came when he could finally introduce the two of them, even if it wasn't in this world. For now, Maisie seemed content to simply hear his stories, knowing that the time would come when she could speak to the remarkable woman who was such a major part of his life.

Now though, he simply holds her, in the quiet hours of the night when no one else was near. Curling her braid around his fingers, the way he had as a child, he murmurs a few words more, barely enough to be heard but ringing with their sincerity all the same.

"You're stuck with me, Aunt Helena. Forever and always."

#my writing #based on a reddit prompt #me #story #writing prompt #of course i had to put subtle lesbians in there #dolls #short story #ghost #fiction

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julies-butterflies · 3 years ago

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Honestly, your writing reminds me a lot of the buffyverse. Just the perfect balance of humor and sadness and romance and heart that just feels like a vivid window into the world you've created.

God the Body...the best forty minutes of television I may never watch again. I've rewatched Willow and Tara's kiss (because I'll adore them forever), but just...the weight of it. It took me a full month to work up the nerve to watch the episode, to be ready to cry that much.

What you said about not wanting people to suffer, because of your work...It's never once felt like that for me. And I've cried a LOT while reading your work. I'll try to explain it the best I can

Grief can be so isolating, and disorienting. Your world goes topsey-turvey, supports you took for granted go flying into the abyss and suddenly it's a minefield of those glass shards. And no one's grief is identical. No two circumstances are the same. It's not possible for anyone else to know exactly how you feel, because no two hearts break alike.

Sometimes, it's because people just don't understand. Sometime's it's because they no longer want to. But some days, that feeling of aloneness can be crushing.

Then one night, I stumbled upon Let These Shadows Fall Away Like Dust. That one hit me way harder than I was ever expecting. The question of how to grieve the living, the dilemma on when forgiveness is deserved...Alex's anger, his devestation, the rawness of it all....That's my broken glass. Those are concepts I've been struggling for over a year. I'm still picking up pieces every day.

I sobbed, because it was such a relief. To see the feelings that had been scrambled up in my mind just reflected there, on my screen. The reminder I had desperately needed, that I was not alone. That even though my circumstances were different, I was not the only one trying to unravel those messy emotions.

Then again, I also read your deathfic for fun, so maybe I'm not the best judge of this. I tend to like angst. I tend to get a lot of "WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT THAT SAD" in group chats :D

Please don't feel any pressure to respond to me quickly or anything. I never mind the wait. I'm so sorry for the rough times. Wishing that you and your family gets whatever you need to help ease your storm. Sending love and support as well.

(sorry for all the metaphors. I'm super sleepy and apparently, I resort to purple prose when tired lol)

I know exactly what you mean about Emily. I understand why people don't like her, but I just love to see her written as such a grey character. It's just so much more powerful when the love is so clearly there.

I mean, that's what a tragedy is, really. Love cut short. Grieving a future that could have been everything, if fate had not been cruel. I don't know if you know musical theater, but I like to think about the Barber and His Wife, from Sweeney Todd: the whole tragedy of that show, is that they were happy all together, and then permanently broken. How their paths keep crossing, but they never connect to heal. Never lost, but never found.

And that's the tragedy of Luke and Emily: too stubborn and too late. You find that grey area, the messiness so well, and just bring it all out so wonderfully. You do the same with Bobby/Trevor, ESPECIALLY in the horror and the wild. God, that absolutely devestated me. I'm not a big fan of horror in general, and I haven't explored the genre that much but...if all horror is like yours then DAMN, I might just have to become a fan.

This got super long (lol) so I'll wrap it up now but! THE SIC FIC QUEENS TOGETHER???? When I tell you I lost it.... all too well Bobby and what you've lost reggie in the same story are killing me. I am hooked and incredibly hyped. Loved both updates so far, and cannot wait to see where the story goes!

Oh yeah and I forget: I have to ask, do you have a fan cast of the one, the only, the incredible Keith Richards? (and that goblin is so cute!!! I really want to pet the blood thirsty monster. So badly)

Love, your totally-not-undead-pen-pal, :D

-Vampire Anon

Know musicals? Vampire Anon my beloved, I am a musical theatre bitch. Take a look at my high school graduation cap! (Anastasia is my favorite musical... something about the themes of home, love, and family, the idea of always finding a place in the world even after enduring incredible hardship, that anything is survivable with faith and love in your heart... I'm also a Romanov history bitch, and Christy Altomare is such an incredible talent and human being.) Literally, talk to me about musicals anytime!

And yeah, I definitely see your metaphor... the tragedy of The Barber and his Wife was how close they came to each other throughout the whole show, existing within reach the entire time, after being separated for so long. But it wasn't the same; it never could be. Time and trauma had changed them both into something unrecognizeable, and when they came face-to-face, they could only hurt each other. At a certain point, the ghosts of your past are meant to stay ghosts. Sure, you might want them back more than anything --- but what would it mean? What would you truly be getting back?

Luke's "back", of course, and he comes home to visit his parents multiple times... but they're not the same people he left. They're older, greyer, changed by grief... while he's just the same. A snapshot forever frozen in time, a memory crystalized in amber. You can't hold memories in your hands. You can't pull them close and refuse to let them go. Eventually, they'll slip away... and to Mitch and Emily, a memory is all their son is, now. That's what's so heartrending about the situation we see in the show, especially --- so much love still exists between all of them, but it has no place to go.

Okay, sorry, it's 3am here and I'm rambling too, haha --- mentioning musical theatre was a mistake.

I'm so glad my stories have been able to connect with you, especially 'shadows' --- that one resonated with a lot of people, more than I ever realized it would. It's not the most personal story to me... but definitely one that needed to be told, and the emotion in it... hits home for a lot of people. It means so much to me knowing that story, and Alex's internal struggle, has made people feel less alone.

I think I'm going to have a hard time looking back on that one, though. We were staying at my aunt's house for the weekend where I wrote most of it; I read a few excerpts to her, and she said she liked it. She was always interested in my writing... I kind of wish I'd gotten the chance to share more of it with her.

Like you said. Grief's a funny thing. Disorienting, relentless, and crushing.

Please just remember, though --- whatever you're dealing with, you're not alone. You don't have to cut yourself on those broken pieces... one day, you'll wake up, and realize you feel whole again. It will never feel the same, and the pain will always be there... but healing around it is what makes us stronger. You don't owe anyone your forgiveness; it's okay to grieve when you've lost something, regardless of whether death has taken them from you. Grief doesn't have to be earned, it simply has to be felt.

You'll be stronger for it, in the end. I'm sorry you've been hurting so much.

Anyways! Oh gosh! On to lighter, happier topics! Please tell me...

What are your favorite fics? (Like, my fics, obviously, which fics of mine do you just go gaga over? Please praise me or else my ego will shrivel like a worm on hot pavement.) No, okay, I'm kidding --- what are your top fics for this fandom? Like, what are the ones that really resonate with you, that you could read over and over? The JATP fandom has so many greats, but I'm always drawn back to Some Killer Queen You Are by pearlcaddy (buffyverse meets jatp!! iconic!!), Lantern's Light by thefairhero (literally the SOFTEST reggie), the sky's not empty tonight by firefall (just... devastating and beautiful in a dozen ways), and literally anything by foundfamilyvevo.

How long have you been in the JATP fandom? Who are your favorite characters? What's your favorite JATP song?

And finally, most importantly... what are your favorite musicals?

(also... since u asked... behold keith richards and tremble)

#vampire anon my beloved #also... vampire anon... you're a writer #i can tell!! i can read it in your words #youre so eloquent and put things so beautifully #do you write fic?? have you posted any for jatp??

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pinkhairedlily · 4 years ago

Text

Last Summer Into the Beginning

Chapter 3 of The Spring He Came Back | 3 of 12

“What does he want me for?” Hitsugaya’s arms were on his hips, and he huffed indignantly at the man in front of him. The professor’s height was like two Hitsugayas stacked on top of each other or two and a half.

Hinamori knew of him. Dr. Byakuya Kuchiki. He secured sequential federal funding for the development of the town, allowing the rise of laboratories, science museums, and research centers on the south hinterlands. He was responsible for the libraries with extensive catalogues in every major district. He was the reason why outsiders gave a moniker to their locality – Soul Society. A-lister faculty and a select roster of students who routinely undergo rigorous training and internships were called soul, figuratively referring to them as “souls of knowledge.”

Members of the core circle of the Soul Society were not selected through the usual entrance exams in regular schools. Present faculty personally chose them or through trusted referrals within their networks. While it was not their intention, this fostered rift across social factions. The rich, the elite, those with well-known family names, and those who have entered competitions were the ones mostly invited. Not the homeless. Not those in the remote, rural parts of the town. Not their kind. So why did he want to bring Hitsugaya to the academy?

“Did you do something wrong, Toushirou?” Hinamori almost yelled. For some reason, her voice was quaking. The implication of the professor’s visit gave her tremendous uncertainty. Hitsugaya defiantly shook his head at her.

Baba placed reassuring hands on Hitsugaya’s shoulders. “Well, you did something that caught Dr. Kuchiki’s interest. Do you want tea, Professor?”

“No thanks, Ma’am. I would like to go straight to the point of my visit.” The professor stepped into the shade of the large camphor tree and ushered Hitsugaya closer. “Now then, would you like to tell me why my thesis calculations were wrong?”

“Shirou!” Hinamori yelled at him. He wrote on the pages despite her warning.

“I cannot ignore it!” He yelled back.

Apparently, the book was the only copy of Dr. Kuchiki’s graduate thesis. The head librarian called the academy to relay the news when they returned the book. How they found their residence must have took a lot of asking on the ground. Hitsugaya explained why he thought the results were wrong. Hinamori felt she was unable to follow him into uncharted territory. The two continued to exchange theories with the professor trying to resolve that, indeed, there were two answers to his research experiment, and no one determined the other one until Hitsugaya. With a hint of satisfaction on his face, Dr. Kuchiki turned to Baba and started to explain his offer to take the kid to the academy.

“His intellect is one of a kind, but his manners and attitude need further honing. He will be a good candidate in the academy,” the professor said. “You need not provide for him. The academy will shoulder everything – his accommodations, food and book allowance, research grants, and a monthly allowance that will be comfortable for a family of ten. This is usually the incentive amount demanded by the other students.”

Hitsugaya’s eyes widened at the figures. Money enough for a family of ten. “That’s….a lot.”

“Well, I believe the decision is up to Hitsugaya himself.” Baba’s eyes twinkled at the newfound genius.

“We will be expecting you at the academy in the coming winter. If you don’t show up, we will take that as your refusal and will cease contact with you or your family members.” Dr. Kuchiki gave a small bow to Baba before leaving.

Baba squealed in delight and ruffled the kid’s silver hair. “I’m gonna prepare fancy meals for us. Who would ever thought Momo’s watermelon would help me pick up a genius kid?” Her laughter rang in the compound.

“But Baba- I’m not even sure if I will accept,” Hitsugaya pouted. “I don’t want to leave you alone with bed-wetter Momo.” That earned him a slap to the back of his head.

“Your attitude really needs honing!” Hinamori echoed Kuchiki’s words, but she didn’t feel the need to celebrate.

That evening after Baba settled down for an early sleep, they escaped to the hill. The moon and stars were fully out in the clear, night sky. Fireflies were illuminating the foothills, green specks of summer dancing in the dark.

Hinamori was resting on the grass, her eyes immediately identifying all the constellations in an effort to not hear Hitsugaya’s words.

“I think I will take up the offer of that grumpy doctor,” he said with a grass tip between his lips. “You’ll probably be happy without me around, huh? No annoying presence at all. You can go to the library anytime without tagging me! No additional laundry or extra food! Hah, think about that Momo!”

His laugh irritated her. “Of course, I’ll be happy! If you can go away soonest, why not?” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was truly relieved.

“Besides, I’ll have enough to give Baba money. She won’t have to work in farms anymore. You can buy everything you need in the market. You can even move closer to the town complex!” Hitsugaya smiled wistfully. “Baba’s life would be much easier. I won’t be your additional burden anymore.”

“You know Baba, Shirou. She’ll never relocate, and she’ll never accept your money.” When clouds started to appear and covered the moon, she stole a glance at his face. The glow from the fireflies accentuated the hard lines. She realized he has been through so much, being thrown out at a young age with his survival threatened daily. He deserved to have the security that the academy offered, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. “She never treated you as a burden. She took you in because she wanted to.”

So that was what he was thinking all along. Hinamori sighed. She never thought Hitsugaya would hide those kinds of emotions behind his strong and sometimes irritated façade. She presumed he was more of a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleep kind of kid.

“Well, should I leave, Momo?” Sometimes, he was exactly this kind of kid. “There’s a part of me that wants to stay and continue living with you and Baba. We’ll always have the library anyway.”

“Why do you need my approval?” Hinamori chuckled at his question. “Aren’t I the most annoying person in your life?”

She got silence on his end. The fireflies were trailing upwards, as if reaching for the stars and sharing their velvet canvas.

“Because you’re my family, and I care for you. So my question is, do you care for me too?”

She was thankful for the darkness because she didn’t want him to see her smile. She never truly answered his question that night despite his nagging. The summer passed by quickly with the finale culminating with a watermelon eating contest. Hitsugaya won, having finished five whole fruits. That also earned him several trips to the toilet.

Autumn followed suit. With the day of his leaving becoming imminent, Hitsugaya rushed to gather the most number of firewood he can to keep the cold at bay in the compound. They spent the remaining days making jam and stocking up their pantry for times they cannot harvest from nearby farms. On his last day, Hitsugaya requested all three of them to sleep together in Baba’s room.

Baba was the fastest to get knocked out. She was also a heavy sleeper so it was easy to always slip out for their nightly conversations, but Hinamori and Hitsugaya preferred to stay with her tonight.

“I’m happy Baba took me in.” Hitsugaya was on the other side of Baba so she really cannot see the display of expressions on his face. “This was a happy home.”

“Silly. You only stayed less than a year here.” It was true. He arrived just short of spring and will be leaving soon. A full cycle of seasons. It was that short.

“And it was more than enough,” he replied. For all the years he was alone. “You know I’ll always sneak out and still go here, right?”

“You dumbass. They might revoke your scholarship. The academy is strict.”

“Well, won’t you come and follow me?”

“I’m not born genius.”

“You taught me how to read, Momo. That’s more than genius.”

“Well, my brain isn’t exactly wired the same way as yours, you know.”

“I’ll sneak out. Wait for me in the daffodil meadow at the end of every three months.”

“Won’t.”

“I’ll bring you watermelon.”

“Won’t.” A beat and a two. Maybe.”

“I’ll still see you and Baba, Momo. Nothing will ever change.”

But everything will change. “Hmm.”

“So, aren’t you going to answer my question? You still have until dawn.”

Hinamori was barely a teen, but her sad history of being orphaned and facing uncertainties daily made her learn that if anything was a constant in this world, it will be change. No matter how they fight against the hands of time and fate, the gears will continue turning. It will only benefit those who move with it. She will not be responsible for stopping his gears from turning.

She reached out her arm, wanting to snuggle against Baba, the only familiar comfort she knew will stay for a long time. Her fingers lightly landed on top his hand. She waited a bit, wondering if he’ll stir or remark on how she was intruding his space.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, but he was already fast asleep. The next day, on the first day of winter, Hitsugaya left the compound.

NEXT CHAPTER | 4 OF 12 | GREAT EXPECTATIONS

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #hitsugaya toshiro #hitsugaya #momo hinamori #hinamori momo #bleach #bleach couples #is this what you call angst #fanfiction #anime fanfiction #TSHCB

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recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

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🔆 — obviously they end up married and procreating, but in your headcanon, do you see them expanding their family? Having more kids? Being content with just Ichika? She seems like 2 kids in one kids body. Where do you see the Abarai family in the future?

🔆 do they see themselves together for the long run ? like , getting married , starting a family , and all that jazz ?

So, when I first found out the timing on Ichika, I was honestly pretty upset about it. Part of it is that I think it’s nice for people to be married for a while without kids. We don’t know when Rukia and Renji actually started seeing each other romantically, but my personal preference is that it happened late, possibly during or after the TYBWA. We do know from WDKALY that they had a pretty short engagement, and then conceived Ichika almost immediately following the wedding. It’s kinda depressing to me that they would have this huge separation, followed by two years of slow burn, followed by six months of dating -> engaged -> married and then BAM preggo. Dang.

Secondly, even though she’s been a lieutenant for a year, tops, Rukia is now acting captain of a squad that has just taken enormous losses, one of her top officers has just transferred to Squad 4, and the Soul Society is in ruins. This seems like... a terrible time to have a baby?

On top of all this, Rukia has never struck me as a person who has always dreamed of being a mom or would be particularly delighted to find herself pregnant. I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to be a mom, or that she wouldn’t be a good one (I am not a particularly maternal mom, and to be honest, I think we could use some better representation). I think Renji would both like to be a dad and would be an excellent and intuitive dad, but he loves Rukia for who she is. He would accept not having kids before he would try to talk her into doing something she didn’t want to.

I am a compulsive fix-it person, but within the confines of canon, so I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of all this. In my ongoing, low-burn, canon-spanning fanfic epic, I tried to put in a few earlier scenes where Rukia interacts with some Kuchiki family members who have babies, and starts to feel some stirrings that having babies doesn’t mean quitting your job and your personality. She’s always valued her independence, but she’s also been alone for a really long time, and at the same time she is trying to adjust to the idea of maybe she would like to have a romantic partner, she’s learning the trials and tribulations of having a sibling, and she’s really re-examining her entire concept of family.

I have never been particularly fond, either, of the idea that Ichika is somehow the Kuchiki heir (and I don’t think she is, especially since she has Renji’s name, but we really don’t know for sure and it’s a common enough idea in fanfic), because the entire Kuchiki family is kind of a drag and also they are problematic billionaires and I don’t like Rukia and Renji just blindly assimilating into that. As a compromise, I came up with the idea that maybe Byakuya named Rukia and Renji a branch family to the Kuchiki (his favorite branch family, don’t tell anyone), so they’re part of the family, but pretty far off from the actual succession and they have a lot of freedom to Start Shit and make the other nobles clutch their pearls constantly.

Bringing it all together, I can finally start to make some sense of this. Rukia and Renji get married with the sense that they would like a family, plus they are somewhat obligated to generate an Heir. It’s shitty timing for sure, but the timing is only going to get shittier. I have heard of women who get PhDs and have babies in grad school. On one hand, this is an absolutely bananas thing to do. On the other, if you know that’s what you want, it is entirely rational, because at least most grad students have a flexible schedule and it’s better than having toddlers when you’re trying to get tenure. If you can manage it, this is actually a really effective way to manage a scientific career. So, in other words, they had their (1) baby, and then Rukia got down to brass tacks, training her bankai and getting her squad in shape. I can definitely see Renji in a primary caregiver role (I think they have a nanny, but he scales back at work and takes care of a lot of stuff), and that also partially explains why he’s still a vice-captain. (If any of this is compelling to you, I did write a short story about it once)

Now, I am actually going to get to your question and the answer is: it depends on what happens in a theoretical continuation of Bleach.

Rukia has just been officially been named a captain in the Bleach epilogue. I think that if things continue to be peaceful, and she settles into her role, after a few years, I could definitely see them sitting down at dinner and saying “you wanna have a big family?” Maybe two or even three more. Ichika is practically an adult at this point, but given the longevity of souls in Soul Society, I feel like it’s not uncommon for kids to have even multiple decades between them. I don’t think she would have any bitter feelings about this, she has always appreciated as being an integrated part of their lives, even when it got a little hectic and also she really loves her baby sibs.

On the other hand, if there’s another big war or an extended period of low-level conflict, I don’t think they would have any regrets if Ichika turned out to be an only child. Rukia and Renji have had a tremendous number of awful things happen to them in their life, and I think they have a tendency to focus on what they have instead of what they don’t.

The primary thing that I think would put a crimp in further kid plans is if Renji had to take a captaincy. I don’t think Renji particularly wants to be a captain, although he would be an excellent one. The way the setup of captains is after the timeskip, I cannot imagine anyone retiring, so I can’t see this happening in the peaceful scenario. I have no idea whose place he would even take. In fact, even if some captains got killed in some future conflict, I would think that by that point, Kira or Hinamori, for example, would be more likely to step up and take over their squads than to bring in Renji. Renji certainly wouldn’t take 1, 2, 4, 12 or 13, and they already blew the storyline where Byakuya dies and he takes 6. I suppose he could take one of the other squads if they lost both captain and vice-captain. Renji becoming the new Kenpachi is the spiciest possible take and I would read the shit out of that.

The actually family development I would like to see would be for Byakuya to get married, dude it is your job. Are you guys ready for my dream Byakuya love story that I will never, ever write because I do not ship him with any existing characters and I would die if I had to tag something Byakuya x OC? TOO BAD, here it is anyway: I think Byakuya doesn’t think he could ever fall in love again, and up until the main Bleach storyline, the idea of being remarrying is abhorrent to him. After a few years of being an ancillary part of the Abarai family, though, I think he could finally bring himself to find some suitably noble wife to Bear Him an Heir. In Byakuya fashion, I imagine he would dig through a bunch of genealogy records and find some woman who is the dead end of some old lineage of Great Soul Society Generals or some shit and out-of-the-blue proposes to her. This woman is the Spinster to End All Spinsters. She is like, 400 years older than him. She is not conventionally attractive and wears a lot of sweaters she knits herself. She has a lot of special interests, including carnivorous plants, and is extremely hardcore about her hobbies. She is the Sybil fucking Ramkin of Soul Society. Her spiritual energy is bonkers. She and Byakuya do not get along at all, but that’s okay because they have big plans to ignore one another (aside from procreational intercourse). Rukia is losing her mind. Renji is trying to smooth things over. Nothing is smoothed. Hitsugaya rather likes her and keeps trying to give Byakuya pep talks. Finally, like, Byakuya’s prize orchid almost dies and she saves it and Byakuya goes full heart eyes for her, and he has to be romantic at her. He wears an ill-fitting sweater she makes.

So, to sum up: Rukia and Renji get married, have Ichika. Byakuya gets remarried, makes an heir or three. Twenty to thirty years later, Renji quits to go be the stay-at-home soccer dad he’s always wanted to be. Byakuya Jr. becomes Vice-Captain at the Sixth (or possibly Ichika? That would be fine, too). Rukia eventually becomes head captain. When the younger batch of Abarai kids get old enough, someone convinces Renji to run for office and he becomes the Leslie Knope of the Central 46. Bam. The best timeline.

#otp meme #renruki #i...have thought way too much about this #this was very long and rambly #but you asked!

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spencapenca · 4 years ago

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We fell in love in October

This is a short halloween Jemily drabble just because it’s so cute and perfect. I’m in a fall mood today, anyways enjoy the story after the break!

Trigger Warnings: None, just pure pure fluffy goodness

Word Count: 955

...

Emily pulled on the final part of her costume, she was Morticia Adams. JJ was Wednesday Adams, Henry was Pugsley and Michael was a mini Cousin It. It wasn’t perfect, but it was them. This whole experience was new to Emily, trick or treating that is. She never got the chance to do it as a child, her mother always told her that it was too childish, and that she never had the time. Into her teenage years she just bought discounted candy the next day. Emily watches as JJ braids her hair that was sprayed black with hair spray dye.

“I know that you’re supposed to be my daughter, but you look hot,” Emily says with a cheeky smile, wrapping her arms around the dress that fell perfectly onto JJ. “Thank you, but I would like to get pictures before you wrinkle the dress,” She says turning in her arms. She places a small, quick kiss on her nose before pulling on her stockings.

Emily walks down to the play room and assists the kids with getting ready. She smiles to herself, feeling all of the nervousness wash away with Henry’s eagerness.

“Emmy! Emmy! Is it time to go tick o’ teatin yet?” He asked, his voice young with childhood innocence. “Yes, almost Henry. But we have to wait for your Mommy, okay? She said not to rush perfection. We don’t wanna do that do we?” A playful and almost motherly tone laces her voice. She was slipping into the role of kinda mom, not aunt anymore. A wide smile beams as Henry eagerly nods. Within the next hour the group had met up with Hotch and Jack, the adults watched as the two older boys would excitedly bounce on the side walk, a skip to their step. Emily was the one who got to go up to the door with the kids. She said it was to make extra sure that they were safe, but in all reality she wanted the experience she never got as a kid. JJ watched her all night, watching how she would hold Henry’s hand and help him knock. How MIchael perfectly balanced on her hip, and how her arm could always be found around his back. She got to step back and observe just how much Emily truly loved the kids, though she never verbalized it. She never had to. She saw the way that her eyes lit up when Henry called her Emmy. How she rushed to pick up Micheal after a minor tumble. She was the first one up when he cried. JJ noticed. She noticed everything. And if she wasn’t already so deeply in love, this proved it further. She saw how well their family was coming together, and she knew that it was their family now. Not just hers. She could finally let the wall around her heart and family fall, allowing Emily in. Though her thoughts were interrupted by Hotch. “You’ve been quiet and staring at her all night... What’s up?” He asked, his tone fatherly

“I just... She’s so amazing, Hotch. I knew I was in love with her, but damn... She is so good with the kids, she’s a natural. I can’t picture my life without her.” JJ admired, smiling at the bouncing child sitting on her love’s hip.

“We can all see it JJ... I’m glad you can too. I’m glad you guys found each other, and I’m glad that you’re happy. It’s all the team and I want for you two. I just have one piece of advice. Don’t hesitate.” He said, their conversation soon coming to a halt as excited children dragged them to the next house.\

Those two words repeated in her head all night. Don’t hesitate, don’t hesitate, don’t hesitate. Soon after hours of trick or treating, and two very whiny and tired children the four headed home. After JJ tucked the boys in, she walked into the dinning room, seeing Emily sitting criss cross in the chair, sporting one of JJ’s hoodies and a pair of leggings. Her messy raven hair throw into a haphazard bun.

“Whatcha doin’?” JJ asked before pressing a small kiss to the back of her head. She had a plan. She no longer was going to hesitate. She had a ring for months, never finding the right time to do this.

“I am just sorting through the kiddo’s candy... Pick out what you want, right?” A playful tone lacing her elegant voice. “Yeah... Yeah. But first, I just need you to know how much I love you. And just how much you mean to the boy’s and I. You’re such and amazing girlfriend, and an even better motherly figure. I am so happy that we are building a future together,” She takes a breath and gets down onto one knee, pulling the ring box out of her old, ratty hoodie pocket, “I know that this isn’t the most romantic of occasions, and you deserve the whole nine yards, but I cannot wait any longer. Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, will you do me the honors of marrying me?”

Emily’s heart almost stopped as happy tears pressed through the corners of her eyes, “Holy fuck yes. Yes, yes, yes, one hundred times yes!” She exclaimed, letting JJ slide the ring onto her finger. She picked JJ up by the waist and held her closely, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you!”

After hours of easy conversation, and plenty of candy eating of which they would have to explain to a very observant and curious five year old, the pair set off to bed. Falling asleep with their limbs tangled together, their breaths aligning as a silent ‘I love you.’

#Soft #Drabble #Kala writes stuff #jemily #happy #fluff #my heart is mush!

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

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If I succeed - 3

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader (eventually/sorta/you’ll see) Content: Jealousy, pining, mentions of sexy times, stubborn people, feels. A/N: If I ever advertise for a new slowburn: hit me hard with a chair or something, ‘cause I’m testing my own patience despite knowing what’s going to happen. Want a tag? Send an ask or reblog! I’d love comments and feedback – even if it’s corrections on language or whatever - I’m not picky as long as I know my work brings joy too.

3 – You won’t change

... Reader ...

Even with Geralt of Rivia to explain the severity of the situation, and Jaskier to serve as witness, very few of the villagers are willing to abandon their homes at the potential threat.

“You’re the Witcher,” they object, “the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken. Can’t you do something?”

Probably better than the man in question, you understand their reasoning: this is their home. The only safe place they have. Furthermore, if it was just a single person leaving (maybe to pursue their fate in the capital) it would not be a problem whereas an entire village on the run would be met with hostility anywhere they were to go. The summer is drawing to an end and with autumn, the cold days will come with rain, sleet, and eventually snow. How would they feed so many? What would happen to them?

“Witcher or not, I’m just one person.”

You know Geralt well enough to see the frustration hidden in the tight draw of the lips. He is not as callous as he pretends, often forfeiting payment by sending a saved person home rather than follow them and claim what was promised. It is only because of Jaskier that they have money to spend on shelter.

Speaking of the bard, you glimpse a shimmer of his blue doublet in a corner where several young women are gathered, undoubtedly to shower him with attention in the hopes of wooing him – a fate he will bravely accept.

“Some of you have horses,” you pipe up, focus once more back on the attending villagers, “ride to Beauclair. Warn them!”

But already, the audience is turning away, tired of the meddling outsiders and a woman’s views on the problem. Most of them have little respect for the Ducal Guard who is supposed to protect the borders and roads, finding that the men sporting the Toussaint colours rarely bother about the well being of the common folk.

“Don’t waste your breath on them, [Y/N].” Geralt’s heavy hand squeezes your shoulder softly, sending shivers racing. “They’ll talk, then they’ll come to offer me money to sort it. They all do.”

He is tired, the venom still potent in his blood though the fever has diminished somewhat. With only a grunt as thanks, he takes the tankard of ale offered by a pretty blonde before reclaiming his seat with a sigh. Though the wench's job is done, she hovers nearby with a hungry look in her eyes that sends your skin crawling and your brain reeling for something to distract the swell of unwelcome emotions.

“What if they do? You’re still just one man...and you’re recovering.”

He has the gall to roll his eyes. “At least I can get proof, seeing the carcass of a monster sends most running.”

“So?” Anger is rising rapidly in your chest even if this is not the time nor the place to let it out. “We’ve seen wyverns before...know they’re th-”

“Who’s talking about the wyverns?” Half the sentence is spoken into the wooden tankard, only loud enough for you to hear. “There’s...something else.”

Oh, the anger is gone immediately all right, replaced by a new, creeping unrest. The people capturing the wyverns...aren’t people?

Looking around the place, you see familiar faces who now are in danger. Friends who have helped you, whose kids you have taught or family members you have tended to during illness or labour. When you and your parents first arrived, it took a while before you were no longer treated as the strange city-girl but once people did accept you...you have never felt alone since. You see the smith and his apprentice by the bar, and over by the window is Audette (seamstress who worked with your mother before eventually taking over) with her gossiping friends, two tables are filled with sons and daughters strong enough to work at the biggest vineyard in the valley. You could go on, naming each and every single person. Then again, there’s less than hundred in the village.

There are more than usual at the small inn. Undoubtedly, the rumour of the Witcher being in attendance has spread like wildfire thanks to Jaskier’s strumming on the walk here. Jaskier. He, however, is nowhere to be found. Where he was, some of the hopeful women are sitting with disappointed pouts. He’ll be back for breakfast.

You turn back to continue the conversation only to find the annoying barmaid nearly crawling onto the White Wolf’s lap without any complaints from him. Biting back curses, it is all you manage to hiss at Geralt to deal with the villagers’ threat as he sees fit before you march out.

Pebbles crunch under your boots. A newly waning moon bathes the bumpy road and the path leading off towards your cottage in a blueish glow, the inky shadows beneath any obstacle the better how late the hour is. Gonna go home, clean up, go to sleep. In my OWN bed! Though the air is cool and soothing, it is unable to dull the rage boiling your blood. An inner dialog plays in your head with alternating reasons for and against your reaction: you have no claim; the Witcher can make (or choose) his own bed and lie in it, yes sir; typical men!

On and on, your mind protests, until a dry crack snaps you back to the present. Nothing is in sight, though it is uncannily difficult to ascertain whether something is hiding in the underbrush of the glade to your right. If only you had paused to bring and light the little lantern – a lantern which is standing by the seat Geralt had claimed – then you could have seen more. Even such a little light would be useful for you in other ways, keeping you safer than most would think. All you have is the glow of the moon so you wait and listen. As no other sounds disturb the silence, you deem it wiser to continue home. Hurrying slightly.

Once indoors, a shaky breath wriggles past teeth worrying into the bottom lip. Silly me. It was probably just a critter too focused on you to watch its step.

You sense it rather than hear it, a presence nearing from behind like a thunderstorm crawling over the mountains. There is barely time to reach towards your father’s old walking staff, less so to turn and raise it before your wrists are pinned on either side of your head against the closed door and the Witcher is looming over you with his broad shoulders. At least he does not have to tell you to drop the staff with a clatter (what good would it do, anyway?). He is so close! The formidable chest rising as he attempts to regain his breath. Did he run here? Brows are knitted as those magical eyes sweep over your form once before scrutinizing every detail of your face. I’m pissed at him, yet the reminder does little else than school your features. Within this proximity, it is possible to smell the musk and the bitterness from the venom-laced sweat – the last inkling of honeyed soap would be unnoticeable for anyone but those who knew of it. The heat. By the Prophet! The heat emanating from the man can only be compared to the smith’s furnace...or the sinful need in your core.

“I believe we were talking, [Y/N].”

“Your attention was elsewhere so I decided we were done,” you bite back.

Tearing yourself free (or rather: he lets you free), you slide past him to reclaim your own alcove. Seeing as Jaskier undoubtedly will be gone all night, it makes sense for Geralt to sleep there instead...and if not, then the two guys will have to bunk up.

“[Y/N]...” His voice is softer now.

Yours is not. “What?”

There is no answer, merely a thud and a slight quiver in the floorboards prompting you to whip around. Geralt lies in a heap on the floor. Fuck. Undoubtedly, his rush to reach home before you has pumped the venom through his body at a quicker pace than even he can withstand, pushing his recovery back and draining what little energy he still had left.

You act swiftly, finding the last of the old vials of antidote as well as one of the new ones you have prepared during the day – they aught to settle before administration, but you might not have a choice now. Then (less swiftly), you drag blankets onto the floor near the fireplace and roll the meat mountain onto them before swathing him almost like a child and dragging his shoulders and head onto your lap. Embers are still crackling, casting a red glow onto the chiselled face to soften the edges.

“Come on,” you coo, knowing full well that he cannot hear you, “open your mouth.”

It is relatively simple to gain access to pour the remedy into him. Pushing the jaw up, you pinch his nose shut and pray that his body will react accordingly. Under the black shirt and leather, his chest stutters in protest for a moment longer than you like. Come now. Miraculously, you hear him swallow, clearing the liquid away to free the airways, gasping hungrily but never once regaining consciousness.

He is handsome, the White Wolf, though few see past the fierce facade to discover the gentle strokes in his appearance. As the dim glow flickers and sends the shadows dancing and jumping, you find yourself staring at the femininely long lashes, and the perfect curve of his lips that you once had the joy of claiming.

But the weight of the man is impressive too, quickly robbing any feeling from your legs. Pushing Geralt, with little remorse as to the harshness, you regain freedom and rub your limbs to get life back into them. What to do? Peeling off boots and, well, anything but his breeches is done quickly despite the dead weight because years of dealing with injured and sick people have proved to be a one-person-task most of the time. So far, so good, idle fingers ghost through the hairs on his chest.

And now...though he probably would not care, you do not like the idea of leaving him on the floor and so retort once more to dragging him towards the nearest bed – you own. Once at there, a cold cloth wakes him up enough to get him onto his feet and you are able to pull him up after crawling into the alcove first, reaching over and pulling him by the waist of his breeches.

By the time Geralt passes out again, he is sprawled diagonally across the bed with you pinned under his arm. Trying to move only results in him subconsciously dragging you into a tight embrace with your back against his chest. Fuck!

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