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rax-writes · 1 year ago

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↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

#i'm hoping this stayed in the realm of “we have a mutual understanding and respect but no love at all”#also this isn't proof-read or beta-read so if there's anything wrong lmk #tywin lannister #game of thrones #got #tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister x you #tywin lannister fan fiction #tywin lannister fanfic #tywin lannister fanfiction #tywin lannister fan fic #tywin lannister fic #got fanfiction #got fan fiction #game of thrones fan fiction #game of thrones fanfiction #my writing

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things-about-cars-in-posts · 2 months ago

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So, uh... this post was answering an ask, but then the saving glitched or something and now the post is in the drafts but it no longer has the ask in it, but the ask isn't in the inbox either. So I don't know if it vanished completely or if it will appear in this post upon posting. And perhaps more importantly, I don't know if the asker will get a notification when I hit post. I guess this is a good moment to ask you all to please avoid asking questions anonymously if possible, so I can reach out if need be (especially considering the months I tend to take to answer, har har).

Well, great, my quest to write a brief post is off to a great start. Oh, I know!

*ominous clattering sounds*

So, ever seen Speed? The movie, not the phenomenon. I haven't, but from what I heard, it's a movie where a bus driver finds out there's a bomb that will go off if they go slower than 50mph. I've gotta see it just to find out what prompted that, did a passenger get frustrated with how slow it- see?!?! I'm doing this again! But no more, thanks to this nifty device I've fitted, that will blow up if this post's word count reaches 2000 words. Yes, that's a pretty high bar, but you know, we tryna stay alive, like Wyclef Jean said. Wait, no, I don't think he ever actually says the song's title in the lyrics. But surely he mentioned its title at some point, right? I'm doing it again aren't I. What was the question anyway?

Do I- Okay, let's not repeat the "do I have thoughts on that" line. Last time it didn't end well.

But yeah, of course! I wrote about the Corolla previously, and who could forget the first mass production hybrid car?

Well, most of the people who drove one, probably - and likely even some that are currently involved in driving one. And, as I went over, I think that's to Toyota's credit.

Now, in my post about hybrid powertrains (definitely a recommended read to anyone who's giving a shit right now) I forewent one of the few important distinction between an F1 car's KERS system and my mom's Toyota - since the former can never run purely on electric power it's a mild hybrid, whereas Toyota's Hybrid Synergy Drive (HSD for friends) is a full hybrid system since it can. So essentially the reason her Toyota is not like an F1 Ferrari is that it's more capable. (And also it burns down less.) So the car could be using only the electric engine, or only the combustion engine, or both, or energy could be getting generated through regen braking or even by the engine(???) and I'm not even sure that's it. There's even a little animation you can toggle that shows you what the drivetrain is doing and what energy is going where. And I always thought that was a bit of a test-drive-only gimmick, not realizing that in my reaction lay proof of the system's brilliance: you don't ever really notice nor care what it's doing! Thanks to the smoothness of a very clever CVT made of planetary gears that I vaguely assume I understand, you barely ever feel any of those goings on. Aside from shifting into B when you need engine braking -even that a very smooth affair- all you ever experience is the variation in noise from the silence of EV mode to, should you ever be so unlucky as to encounter a road that points up...

(credit to @ggrtl1)

The HSD system now being in most of Toyota's range makes it easy to forget how it was a Prius exclusive for the longest time, and how starkly the Prius stood out when that was the case. But if we look back with that in mind, the Prius being an environmentally conscious choice that doesn't actually require you to have a clue about shit, and a car that almost actively dodges your attention, it's clear how it immediately became extremely popular… almost as much as it was maligned.

Car enthusiasts, as I already went over (oh sorry, I'd already linked this one), hated the Prius with unfathomable passion. I grew up in car meme circles and counting the jokes at the Prius' expense was akin to counting your breaths. To this day you can probably spot peeling "Prius repellent" stickers atop the exhaust pipes of the most insulting trucks of the Walmart lot. And really, I think there's more to why than what I talked about. For one, the Prius's architecture and marketing attracted and created drivers without much eagerness to get out of their own way, and by extension the cars behind them's. But really, people hated on Audi drivers tailgating and BMW drivers being seemingly unaware of the turn signal stalk's presence, and that never translated into cheering at pictures of M3s and RS4s engulfed in flames. There also was the idea of the Prius driver as someone eager to rub their environmental consciousness in your face - and I believe that gets closer to the point, but again, however much you can hate a driver, that doesn't really translate into hating the car with such memetic reliability that a key mechanic in my favorite gaming series ever involves finding pink Priuses and blowing them up.

It's something about the car itself. Or rather, what it represented.

I believe the Prius was the vegan of cars.

It was never just about what it did or how, but about how its existence implied that our way of life (in our case our acoustically, socially and environmentally obnoxious gas guzzlers) was bad, was wrong. It was an attack on how we rolled. And so we attacked back: "No, fuck YOU. You're nerdy, and uncool, and boring, and ugly. Go die." And really, it's interesting how those were the angles the Prius was attacked by - even though it was clearly never concerned with being cool or exciting to drive and, if I do say so myself, the Prius never looked that bad in the years when that hate developed.

I mean, even this interior is neat if you ask me!

Really, I think the reason those angles were chosen goes beyond the car. Nerdy, uncool, boring, ugly. What image does that conjure up?

Exactly.

And just like that emoji, those are comebacks you huck at someone who's getting in the way of your good time. But how did someone else's car get in the way of our good time? Simple: by highlighting the problems with our good time. Again, the vegan of cars. And just like them, this opposite faction was also seen as a threat. If this view wins, we feared, our vehicles for The Good Time will get banned or canceled or neutered beyond recognition. We were arguably living through the start of such events and they did get worse with time.

But still, our approach was misguided, handling serious environmental issues with the same maturity of children being reminded of their homework by their parents. The solution was not to try and boo the issue away, as though a relative handful of enthusiasts could drown out environmentalism, but to recognize that our smaller number and the masses' different priorities could have been assets: get out of this tunnel vision whereby everyone needs to have what you like and let others have a Prius; hell, encourage others to get a Prius, because the more people buy fuel efficient cars on their own accord, the less governments will feel the need to force them to do so with bans! Because bans? They SUCK. Not being able to use your car or go some place no matter how much you're willing to pay and how many hoops you're willing to jump through SUCKS. And it's unfair to everyone: the greener choice should be the better choice, because if not you're short changing people, and that betterness should be communicated well to the people, so they know they're not getting short changed. At which point you wouldn't need a ban anyway because the only people who wouldn't pick the greener thing of their own accord are us, the handful of weirdos who'll gladly stick with something worse for The Experience™, whose impact will be too small to be worth restricting everyone's freedom over.

We were too few to matter, but instead of using that as the asset it was we fought against that idea. And that's understandable: we all like for our opinion to be popular, we all like to push people to be more like us because we like the idea that it's a good thing to be the way we are. So it's tough to embrace the idea that the fewer people like us there are the better. And perhaps we were too proud to admit that our passion really is problematic at scale and thus have that conversation altogether. Or we just didn't feel like dealing with that problem. Again, kids not wanting to do homework.

But now that half of all Toyotas sold (in the U.S. at least, but that's always been the cultural trends dictator anyway) are hybrids, funnily enough, it all seems okay. I mean, whose vitriol is being spent on the Corolla Hybrid? And it's not because the Corolla name did get slapped onto enough different cars that eventually it landed onto something with some enthusiast cred...

...because that never made enthusiasts hold the "normal" Corolla in any higher regard than 'boringly sensible, nondescript transportation only ever interesting as a way to justify any unwise sportscar purchase of a similar buy-in price' ("Can you believe I got this V10 twin turbo Audi RS6 for the price of a new Corolla?", usually said a month before the first night spent under a bridge). And even if it did, it would be all the more reason to curse the HSD powertrain for "ruining" it, or whatever. People don't hate on the RAV4 Hybrid, the Sienna Hybrid, the whatever Hybrid nowadays. (Or maybe they are and I'm just hanging around more mature people now, but I do feel like a cultural shift has gone on.)

Is it because hate struggles to spread itself too thin, especially across vehicles whose hybridness isn't their whole personality as the Prius's was? Maybe, but I doubt it looking at all the positive sentiment around the fifth gen Prius, surprising a glowup as it may have been.

(Y'ain't really fuck with me way back then girl

how 'bout now)

It could also be that a threat is often worse than the event itself, because focusing on a threat makes it feel like an all-encompassing hypothetical that must be avoided at all costs or how will we manage, but when we live through it it's just one of the many things going on in our lives, and we find out we manage just fine. Many cars we barely cared about to begin with are hybrid now, so what. Those seeking to avoid hybrid powertrains just... do that. Some cars are canceled, so we buy used or look elsewhere. That Prius was not a harbinger of doom, just a precursor of a trend that it didn't cause, and didn't really kill us all. But maybe it's the move that we're currently fearing will kill us all, electrification, that has not just shifted attention away from hybrids, but framed them more positively by comparison. But perhaps there's an even bigger, show-stealing enemy, doing what we feared hybrids would do and what we're fearing electrification will do: SUVification. Sure, people raged at things like the Honda NSX becoming a hybrid or the Mazda MX-5 announcing electrification, but travesties like the new "Capri" really make that rage look silly, as if we lost the focus of what was really vital, like i did with the word count oh no

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

#toyota corolla #hybrid synergy drive #toyota prius #hybrid cars

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dailycharacteroption · 1 year ago

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Planar Tour Guide: The Plane of Shadow part 2

(art by Remi Portmann on Artstation)

Geography

True to it’s name, the Plane of Shadow, or Netherworld, if you prefer, is a place of darkness, varying by a vague twilight and complete pitch blackness. When there is light, the source isn’t discernable, and the shadows of objects regularly shift and twist like black fingers reaching out from their source. Indeed, that alone makes the plane a forboding and unsettling place for daylighters, but that is just the beginning.

The terrain of the plane is, as we mentioned yesterday, a twisted, (albeit truncated) reflection of the material plane. You might recognized the edge of a shoreline or the presence of a familiar city, but the plane of shadow has a way of warping everything familiar. Cities appear as the most sinister version of themselves, their monuments inverted in strange ways or made all the more forboding and oppressive. Places of terrible happenstance become pocket nightmares inhabited by strange shadowy beings that might reflect those terrible deeds, or just as likely were moved into the way that Material Planes monsters move into abandoned dungeons and cave networks.

But even the wide areas between such landmarks can be twisted. A sea might be filled with dry sand instead of water, a forest might be a sinister place of twisted boughs, and so on.

Of course, there are also structures built by denizens and deities alike, such as the Abbey of Nevers created by the velstrac demagogue Aroggus, as well as various shadow giant holdings carved from the warped mountain ranges, and the elegant spires of the cities of the shae.

Zon-Kuthon also has his own realm here. Xovaikain was originally his prison that he agreed to be confined within “until the sun did not shine on Golarion’s surface”, a confinement that ended all too early when Earthfall cloaked the planet in dust clouds. The realm is even more twisted than other parts of the netherworld, being a place of nightmares, oppressive terrain, magical storms, and waking hallucinations meant to sap away the will of all who enter, to say nothing of the poor victims in the prison-palace itself. Aside from the residents, visitors must also worry about the many shadowy predators that come to the region seeking an easy meal of those whose sanity and bodies have been wracked by what they experience.

Speaking of hazards, the fact that this plane has deep connections to the Negative Energy Plane means that sometimes a bit of that even deeper darkness wells up in the Netherworld (or more accurately, part of the shadow is swallowed up, leaving the consuming void in it’s place). These voidboils build up and sometimes explode outward, bathing the surroundings in consuming negative energy.

Despite how inhospitable it can be at times, there are those beings that make it home and thrive there, which we will see tomorrow! Tune in then for more!

#pathfinder #plane of shadow #planar tour guide

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fyeahmeddy · 10 months ago

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also one vague notion I've had for Fionna and Cake's world is that from an in universe POV, the magic went away and the world became mundane BECAUSE of Hana Abadeer; she made that happen, for whatever reason, and drew upon that world's ancient laws and economic systems to functionally set her up as a tyrant ruling the city and playacting at being in charge. Specifically their city is protected by a swirling vortex of antimagic; stay inside the city, she says, and I'll make everything OKAY. "Just don't think about the outside. Don't ever LEAVE." So in a sense she's a way to explore the idea of Hunson staying with Marceline, but that being arguably WORSE than if he had never come back; she's a monster more concerned with playing at leadership and lacking Hunson's grief or feelings of missed opportunities to casually toss aside her family as tools or playthings, so even if she's apparently human she's as much a demon as ever. But anyway, one plot element I'd like to use at some point is that the vortex breaks down, and the magic comes back; not that characters immediately shift back to their Aaa incarnations, but aspects start flooding in, making things more unpredictable and Fionna and friends have to come to terms with what they have, what they used to be, and what they think they want and how its all an uncomfortable complicated mess, and take control of their world for the first time in their lives rather than live according to Hana's illusion. (Also, Ice Queen being played as Simon if he had never followed his passions but wound up bitter and constantly wondering if he had tried more, and she winds up more friendly with Fionna and her mindset exploring how much of it is personally genuine, and how much is Simon's experiences with Fionna influencing this other version of him.)

Hanna seems to be more Evil and power-thirsty than Hunson and honestly her last appearance in Fionna and Cake was kinda eerie. It would be very interesting to see her turn into the villain of Season 2 like you suggest, revealing she's been aware of the true nature of Fionna's world and making it her play-world where she's basically ruling queen.

Scarab did mention that Fionna's world "would be doomed" now that it's canon. We've discussed how Cake and the talking flying squirrel could become gates through which magic could make its way (back) into Fionna's world. Season 2 could use some of that and show us how it shapes the characters lives and expectations. and yeah!! more Ice Queen is always welomed!! I really want to see her fleshed out in the next season

#adventure time #atimers

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breakbcnes · 1 year ago

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He hadn't been expecting a reply like that. The fact he had attempted to sympathize and show there was care, someone in her corner at what she had experienced, was seemingly rebuffed. All he was doing was trying to help, but in a way he could understand why. There wasn't anything he could do in the moment, nothing that would improve or change her life. He looks away and nods, showing he understood to an extent. The knight, perhaps, just hoped it would help a tad knowing she had someone in her corner. Still, he understood when she said the name of her head of House that this wasn't as easy as he wished. His family and house were different compared, no doubt the reason being his father and his father before him. They had an honor to it, did what they believed was right. At least that was how Harwin saw it, following more so in his father's footsteps to a certain degree. Which was why, despite her words, he wasn't going to ignore what was told to him. Harwin would do what he could to help ease the struggles of her daily life if he was able. Knowing he couldn't be there always, he would do what he could.

For now that meant helping her return to the Keep after the run-in with the criminal. It had been something he warned her about before and he hated she had to learn the hard way. Harwin was just glad he had been there in time. Knowing this wasn't easy for her, he kept his pace as slow as he could so she wasn't stressing herself too much. He could tell by the way she gripped his arm that she was in a considerable amount of pain, but he wasn't sure if it had been from the criminal or the abuse suffered from before. Possibly a combination of the two, but he wasn't going to ask. She had been through enough as it was and moving on from it was the best solution he could offer in the moment. "You do not need to thank me, my lady." Harwin says as softly as he can as they move through the city. "Nor do you need to dwell on it in the moment....What matters is I do believe you and I will do what I can to offer you aid." It was the least he could do as he avoided issuing another apology that he knew she would not be approving of as they approached the Red Keep. The shift to the small talk was a welcome one, hoping it was going to do the trick for the time being. Though, he hadn't expected it to turn more towards him and his relationship with the princes.

Harwin attempts to correct his facial expression, clearing his throat as she starts to clarify more that almost seemed like a vague attempt to say she knew they were his sons. But he doesn't say anything to confirm or deny it, instead waiting and listening to what she had to say. When she was done, he nods and shifts slightly as they walk. "I see, I am glad to know my caring for the young princes shows others who I am. I care for their upbringing as the sword shield to the princess, they are to be the future king and another the lord of Driftmark. It seems only appropriate they learn properly." Seeing as Cole refused to do the job himself. A chuckle leaves him, however, at the mention of his future. Being a father, well, he already was even if it wasn't openly claimed. It never could, but he knew what she meant. Children he could claim as his own. "One day, I'm sure my lady, I will see how well of a father I truly make." His own way of putting the attention off of the rumors that the princes are his off of him. What he does notice, aside from their discussion, is that she is in pain. More so than before and he makes him start to slow down more until he has no choice but to come to a stop.

Brow furrows when he sees her lift up the dress, exposing the wound that had been no doubt causing her the pain this entire walk. A heavy breath left him as he shook his head, knowing now she had to experience this more so than just a beating caused anger to boil within the knight. Though he could do nothing to express it, only offering her a solid foundation to tend to her wound. "You have been through far too much, Lady Gisela. It is not right. I would do more if you just told me who." Harwin looks at her almost with a pleading expression, knowing full well she wasn't going to tell him but he thought he might be able to have some hope that she would. It is all he can offer as he waits for her to be ready to continue their movement into the Keep. However, once they reached the area she had snuck out from he would have to leave her and only hope she could find peace for the night.

Echoes of the ginger touch, gentleness made the Lady of house Lannister frown. Internalising herself by some mean, daring to don an emotional armour. Held tightly around her heart and mind. Confession whispered upon the woman’s lips, Gisela then frowned at the apology. “Ser Harwin,” she drew her gaze to the helm and shadowed features beneath. “Your apologies are not words I wish to hear,” letting out a shaky breath. “It neither changes my position nor stance in the situation,” admitted Gisela with a soft tone, not once chiding nor belittling. Holding her tongue a moment, she attempted to blink away tears forming in her eyes. “Jason—-he’s not the one doing this, but if he knew… it’d be a matter of self preservation, for the name and house.” To marry and cover up the true legitimacy of the child.

Hand clenching a little in the crook of his elbow when the steps made her body bark. Bones in the broken foot protesting. Audible sound of the ligament and bone grinding with each step. Yet, Gisela hoped it was drowned out for Harwin. For the sake of hiding how bad the situation was to some merit; and the unpleasantness of it. Keen awareness of the Captain’s own web and the treasures protected. Offering the man a kind sad smile, she offered a light squeeze of his arm. “Thank you,” words were weak on her lips. The glisten of salty tears apparent on her cheeks. “It’s been so long… since it all started, in truth I don’t even remember how it started anymore.” Gisela admitted in a weak grainy voice. “They won’t believe me even if I said anything—-” Some years the younger to Ser Strong and the Crown Princess. Her life had been spent a between both Kings Landing and the Rock. Gisela’s confession registering on her lips, before her own awareness. Holding her gaze on the walls enclosed around the Red Keep.

The change to small talk had been her means to cope. Speak of something good amongst the bad; redirect. It had been the footwork and effort to another or event. Watching Ser Harwin’s reaction to the compliment she pat his inner arm, hoping to make him aware of his own reaction. “Ser, you see them more than merely the Princes, it has been very much apparent from the birth of Prince Jacaerys.” Gisela offered him a soft smile. “Merely, you’ve soon another to teach and watch flourish with skills. It’s quite an honour and attests to many virtues of your character.” She’d known the rumours, seen how this man held his heart on his sleeve. Knew to play the game to draw attention away from her. “There is no shame to have pride in influence when it is of positive impression.” Each step hurt more now, making her wince. “Perhaps even, shows what your capabilities would be if you were to marry and children in the future—not in the sense of responsibility and expectation. More what’s within your heart,” gaze wandering to her skirts noticing blood and the bandage loose.

Halting her movements, to look at the wounded limb. Staring at the linens wrapped and noticing stitches broken. Cold and clammy her skin became looking down. Moving her skirts to get a better look, but showing more of the marks pressed into her skin. “The Red Keep used to be a safe place, ironic for the viper pit it is. But, he was never there. His games remained outside of King’s Landing, people who knew I could buy silence. Maesters that were disgraced aren’t ones to discuss matters,” she admitted weakly with some thanks to that resource. “There’s been a few before this one—-“ she meant the child. Drawing that it hadn’t been the first and this likely not the last.

#quietmuse #🗡️ — allegιance тo тнe crown ╲ ( verѕe 01 )#🗡️— υnwaverιng loyalтy ╲ ( qυeυe )

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writingwithcolor · 4 years ago

Text

Space based story with prison camps: problematic parallels?

Trigger warnings:

Holocaust

Unethical Medical Experimentation (in the post and resources)

ivypool2005 asked:

I'm writing a sci-fi novel set on Mars in the 25th century. There are two countries on Mars: Country A, a hereditary dictatorship, and Country B, a democracy occupied by Country A after losing a war. Country A's government is secretly being puppeted by a company that is illegally testing experimental technology on children. On orders from the company, Country A is putting civilian children from Country B in prison camps, where the company can fake their deaths and experiment on them. (1/2)

My novel takes place in one of the prison camps. I am aware that this setting carries associations with various concentration camps in history. Specifically, I'm worried about the experimentation aspect, as I know traumatic medical experimentation occurred during the Holocaust. Is there anything I should avoid? How can I acknowledge the history while still keeping some fantasy/sci-fi distance from real experiences -- or is it a bad idea to try to straddle that fence at all? Thank you! (2/2)

We are far from being the only people to have suffered traumatic medical experiments..

--Shira

TW: Unethical Medical Experimentation (in the post, and all of the links)

Medical experimentation in history

Perhaps without intending to, you have posed an enormous question.

I will start by saying that we, the Jewish people, are not the only group to have unethical, immoral, vicious experiments performed on our bodies. Horrific experimentation has been conducted on Black people, on Indigenous people, on disabled people, on poor people of various backgrounds, on women, on queer people... the legacy of human cruelty is long. Here are some very surface-level sources for you, and anyone else interested to go through. Many, many more can be found.

General Wiki Article on Unethical Human Experimentation

US Specific Article on Unethical Human Experimentation

The early history of modern American Gynecology is largely comprised of absolutely inhumane experimentation, mostly on enslaved women (with some notable exceptions among Irish immigrant women)

An Article on Gynecological Experimentation on Enslaved Women

I also recommend reading Medical Bondage by Deirdre Cooper Owens

The Tuskegee Experiment

First Nations Children Denied Nutrition

Guatemala Syphilis Experiment

Unit 731

AZT Testing on Zimbabwean Women

Project MKUltra

Conversion Therapy

Medical Experiments on Prison Inmates

Medical Interventions on Intersex Infants and Children

Again, these are only a few, of a tragic multitude of examples.

While I don't feel comfortable saying, as a blanket statement, that stories like this should never be fictionalized, it feels important to emphasize the historicity of medical experimentation, and indeed, medical horrors. These things happened, in the real world, throughout history, and across the globe.

The story of this kind of human experimentation is one of immense cruelty, and the complete denial of the humanity of others. Experimentation was done on unwilling subjects, with no real regard for their wellbeing, their physical pain, the trauma they would incur, the effect it would have on families, or on communities. These are stories, not of random, mythical "subjects," but of human beings. These were Black women, already suffering enslavement, who were medically tortured. These were Indigenous children, who were utterly powerless, denied nutrition, just to see what would happen. These were Black men, lied to about their own health, and sent home to infect their spouses, and denied treatment once it was available. These were Aboriginal Australians, forced to have unnecessary medical procedures, children given brutal gynecological exams, and medications that were untested.. These were inmates in US prisons, under the complete control of the state. These were prisoners of war. These were pregnant people, desperate to save their fetuses, lied to by doctors. These were also Jewish people, imprisoned, and brutalized as part of a systematic attempt to destroy us.

The story of medical torture, of experimentation without any meaningful consent, of the removal of human dignity, and human rights, is so vast, and so long, there is no way to do it justice. It is a story about human beings, without agency, without rights, it's the story of doctors, scientists, and the inquisitive, looking right through a person, and seeing nothing but parts. This is not some vague plot point, or a curiosity to note in passing, it is a real, terrible thing that happened, and is still happening to actual human beings. I understand the draw, to want to write about the Worst of the Worst, the things that happen when people set aside kindness, and pick up cruelty, but this is not simply a device. This kind of torture cannot be used as authorial shorthand, to show who the real bad guys are.

On writing this subject - research

If you want to write a fictional story that includes this kind of deep, abiding horror, you need to immerse yourself in it. You need to read about it, not only in secondhand accounts, and not only from people stating facts dispassionately. You need to seek out firsthand accounts, read whatever you can find, watch whatever videos you can find. You need to find works recounting these atrocities by the descendants, and community members of people who suffered.

Then, when you have done that, you need to spend time reflecting, and actively working to recognize the humanity of the people this happened to, and continues to happen to.

You have to recognize that getting a stamp of approval from three Jewish people on a single website would never be enough, and seek out multiple sensitivity readers who have personal, familial, or cultural experience with forced experimentation.

If that seems like a lot of work, or overkill, I beg you not to write this story. It's simply too important.

-- Dierdra

If you study public health and sociology, it is often a given that the intersection of institutional power and marginalized populations produces extreme human rights abuses. This is not to say that such abuse should be treated as an inevitability, but rather to help us understand, as Dierdra says, how often we need to be aware of the risk of treating our fellow humans poorly. Much of modern medical history is the story of the unwilling sacrifices made by people unable to defend themselves from the powers that be. Whether we are talking about the poor residents of public hospitals in France during the 18th century whose bodies were used to advance anatomy and pathology, to vaccine testing in the 19th century, to mental asylum patients in the 20th century who endured isolation, lobotomies, colectomies and thorazine, one can easily see this pattern beyond the Holocaust.

Even when we shift our focus away from abuse justified by “experimentation”, we have many such incidents of institutionalized state collusion in abuse that have made the news within the last 20 years with depressing regularity. Beyond the examples mentioned above, I offer border migrant detention centers and black sites for America, Xinjiang re-education sites and prisoner organ donation in China, Soviet gulags still in use in Russia, and North Korean forced labor camps (FLCs) for political prisoners as more current examples. I agree with Dierdra that these themes affect many people still alive today who have endured such abuses, and are enduring such abuses.

More on proper research and resources

Given that you are going to be exploring a topic when the pain is still so fresh, so raw, I think you had better have something meaningful to say. Dierdra’s recommendation to immerse yourself in nonfiction primary sources is essential, but I think you will also want to brush up on many established works of dystopian fiction featuring themes relating to state institutions and the exploitation of vulnerable populations. While doing so, read about the authors and how the circumstances of their environments and time periods influenced their stories’ messages and themes. I further recommend that you do so both slowly and deliberately so you can both properly take in the information while also checking in with your own comfort.

- Marika

#holocaust #holocaust tw #prison camps #oppression #tragedy exploitation #torture tw #resources #death tw #abuse tw #asks #history

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aryareyes · 3 years ago

Text

***

Title : The way your eyes burn my soul

Pairing : Gruvia

Summary : Surprise!

Spotlights were shinning brightly, illuminating the dark interview hall, but what set the hall on fire was the audience's energetic ovation.

At the center of the hall, the interviewer, a beautiful young woman was smiling ear to ear, in front of her, her guests of the day, the best duo of the Pop world were seated, delighted matching grins on their faces.

- " Welcome to Pep Talk! Today's a very special day for us because we've our favorite Pop duo, Gray and Juvia with us!!"

The crowd whistled and cheered again as the two stars bowed their head respectfully to the crowd.

- " Thanks Mira, it's our pleasure to be here." The raven haired man answered as he flashed a grin to the public, making girls squeal.

- " Gray's right! We're very happy to be here!" The blue haired girl added, clad in her navy cocktail dress.

Again the crowd cheered but it was mostly male public this time. Mirajane smiled at the public and shifted her attention back to the duo.

- " So, Gray, Juvia, first of all, Congratulations for your last album, Icy Waves. It's a mega huge success! But most importantly, your fans—no actually, people who I know that don't like pop are into it after listening to that album. How do you feel about it?"

The female artist waited for the applause to end before talking,

" We are really glad to hear that." She chuckled contently, a glance at her partner before trailing, "Gray and I worked hard on it...and it was our first album together so..."

- " She worked extra hard for it," Her partner added as she shook her head playfully glaring at him. He smiled as he added, " It was her idea, so Icy waves wouldn't be possible without Juvs here." He winked at the girl, earing a smile in return.

- " He's exaggerating, its our team work."

- " Of course not." He rolled his eyes in response.

Mira chuckled at their bunter eyeing them carefully. Let's get my very wanted scoop.

- "I'm sure your fans love your teamwork. Now, let's talk about this particular song..." she started grinning slowly, earning some whistles and the name of the single from the crowd.

- " Looks like they want the same... The way your eyes burn my soul..." The interviewer paused glancing at the young stars who's cheeks were flushing slightly—at least Juvia's—Gray was doing a great job hiding it.

Mirajane Strauss cleared her throat slightly, getting their attention.

" Your voices...the feel in the song is..." she sighed softly looking for the right word, "...Magic...How did that magic happen?" She asked sincerely.

- " You said it, magic. I guess magic happens in music." Gray answered cleverly, shrugging.

- " I think that answer is too vague Gray," Mira chuckled imploring him to continue.

Gray's lips tugged up as he slid in a more comfortable position on the couch.

- " Recently at your album's success party, there were rumors of the two of you dating, so is it safe to assume the magic wouldn't have happened without that?"

Juvia smiled softly, adorable rosy hues adorning her cheeks.

- " Yes, I think it wouldn't have been magic if there's no feel in it."

Gray's smile turned into something genuine as his eyes were fondly looking over his girl beside him.

- "Are we lucky enough to get more details about it then?"

- " it, here means song right?" Gray lifted an eyebrow playfully earning some chuckles.

- " Definitely the song, but Juvia mentioned something about feel." Mira retorted with a mischievous smile, "So, I'd say the magic of the song—or love."

Gray scoffed. The audience cheered louder.

No wonder she was known for the title of the sweet devil.

Nonetheless, he responded with a natural expression. Years of experience of being the center of spotlights learned him to keep his cool in any kind of situation. He knew to give what the public wants to hear without revealing too much about his personal life neither.

- " We've known each other for a very long time. We'd each other's back through the thick and thin of our careers...so our friendship turned into something more, and I'm truly happy with the change."

The crowd went crazy and Juvia blushed slightly. He looked at her with a soft smile who smiled back brightly. God, she's so beautiful. He thought.

- " Heard that you guys! We were right! Our lovebirds here are dating!" Mira exclaimed in delight—she's a gruvia shipper after all.—" I guess it's time to say—excuse me for my language— Fucking Finally! "

People erupted more into cheers and whistles and chanted their favorite pop stars' ship name. Once the audience calmed down, the interviewer started talking again.

- " Well honestly, almost everyone were shipping you two together since forever and your chemistry is just so perfect. We felt it in the song." She stated as the stars thanked her and their fans.

- " So, now that you got your answers and I've my scoop, let's move to the fun part, shall we?" She continued cheerful with a glance at the public.

- " I don't feel it." Gray stated frowning and Juvia laughed at it.

- " The game is called 'tas-quest.' It's very simple. I'll ask you both questions concerning your partner which you've to answer honestly. Same goes with the tasks."

The two of the nodded and proceeded to play the game.

- " Okay. First question is for Juvia. Who's Gray's crush?"

- " Ouch. You sure want our couple to last?" The said guy retorted with fake mock. "I don't have any other crushes than my girlfriend, right here." He blow a kiss in her way but Juvia hit his arm, glaring at him playfully.

- " Babe. What?"

She huffed with a grin and turned to Mira, " He's a crush on his childhood friend."

- " What?! That was years ago! I was eight! And she's married now, thank you very much." He crossed his arms with a huff.

- " It's still a crush." She argued back.

- " She's a point." Mira smirked as Gray glared at her.

- " Your turn, who's the most jealous between the two of you?"

- " Obviously Juvia." The male singer laughed though his companion she gasped offended at him.

Mira bit back a chuckle as she looked at the young couple in amusement. Juvia pointed a finger at her boyfriend, "You got jealous of a fan on our last concert."

Gray crossed his arms with a roll of eyes. " He was too close."

- " Because he wanted to take a photo." She retorted with a scoff.

- " Yeah right. He invaded your private space and I protected you being the charming boyfriend I am." Gray muttered under his breath, not loud enough for the fans to here but Juvia and Mira did. The latter smirked while the female singer rolled her eyes but allowed a smile.

He was too cute when he was jealous.—She thought endearingly. Without a word she placed her hand on the his that was resting in the bare space between them and caressed it to smooth him. It worked as he gave her a look and she smiled. He turned his aside fighting back a smile of his own.

The reporter cleared her throat to her their attention, "Moving on to the next quest—oh it's actually a task for Juvia." She set her gaze on the girl who hastily pulled her hand away.

- " Yes ?"

- " You've to admit to Gray three of your secrets concerning him that you never would have told him." That earned chuckles and whispers.

- " Now it's interesting. I'm all ears Juvs. " He crossed his arms in curiosity, a playful gleam in his eyes.

- " Oh god, tell me I've a joker." She groaned in response—"Nope." Gray and Mira said at the same time.

Juvia pouted, "If I tell him my secret then it's no more a secret."

The sweet devil giggled, " That's basically the point of the game." The girl pouted more but turned her body slightly to her partner who was looking at her amused.

- " I've always found you cuter when you're sleeping...because you're messy, relaxed and actually a kid." She smiled tenderly at him as his cheeks tinted slightly. Their fans cooed. "...So I may have or may not have snapped pictures of you while sleeping." It was her turn to blush as he recovered from his flustered state to smirk at her handsomely.

- " Will we get some of them? " Mira interrupted.

- " Absolutely not." Juvia chuckled, "They're mine." The young girls sighed heavily but grinned at their favorite couple.

- " Next secret Wat'drop." Gray raised an eyebrow challengingly.

- " I stole one of your hoodies a few months ago and got to know recently that it's your favorite since you went through your room for it." She admitted with a cute frown.

- " Wait. My Detective Conan?" He asked in disbelief. His girlfriend bowed her head. " Guilty." She looked up at him again, " You're mad?" He rolled his eyes at her cuteness. How could he be mad at her when she was looking like that?

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, he ruffled her hair affectionately. Juvia smiled and promised herself to find him the real one he was looking for—the one he had that she stole (because she missed him too much), was not the one he wanted originally. The stocks wore off as it was a limited edition and he got himself the closest thing to the original. So, she would buy him the one originally he wanted.

- " You guys are really cute together!!" Their interviewer squealed as she looked at them and the crowd agreed with her.

They thanked her and Juvia proceeded to the last secret with a groan. "Arghh...I can't believe I'm confessing this to you on a live show."

Gray's eyebrow lifted, " That much secret?" He frowned concerned, " You don't need to tell it."

Juvia shook her head, " No, I should play fair." She mumbled as she stared around at her fans and smiled at them. She then squeezed Gray's hand and locking her eyes on him.

- " I had a crush on you from the very first day I met you." Gray's eyes widened slightly, surprise written all over his face. They forgot they got a loud audience as he blinked at her.

- " Really?"

- " Really." She said softly. He leaned to her side, and kept his voice low. The public didn't notice their murmurs as they've gone wild since Juvia's confession.

-" I don't understand...you didn't like me back then..." He frowned. Juvia gave him a look that meant 'later'.

Mira cheered and turned to them,

" Thanks for playing fair Juvia! You're awesome!"

- " Well, it's almost time. I've a last..." She looked at the small card in her hand before looking back at Gray. " task for Gray."

- " Tell us three things you like the most about Juvia." A gentle smile crossed his features as he glanced at his girl before facing Mira.

- " I think the list is long but I'll keep it short..." He held a hand up, enumerating. " She's one of the most talented and dedicated person I know. Whether it's job or studies or other common things, once she gets into it, she's determined to finish it and gives her hundred percent in everything she does. She's a hard worker and I honestly think that's the reason of her success."

Juvia was touched by his words as she stared at the man she loved talking about her so highly and proudly. She knew why she loved him so much.

- " She's a very good friend—she's this kind of friend who you would call if one day you committed a murder and don't know what to do about it. She'll help you bury the body and get you safely out of the mess." Juvia along with others laughed at his statement.— "Not that I'm planning to murder someone." He added and Juvia laughed more, leaning into him before giving him a look that meant, 'call me if you do'.

- " I guess what I'm trying to say is, she's trustworthy and be there for you through thick and thin. The kind of friend everyone needs to have in their life and I'm grateful to have her in mine." He got everyone's heart with that—if he didn't already had—as they stared at him in awe.

Gray turned to Juvia and locked his eyes with hers as he was about to say his last one. " What I love the most about you is how you look at me. You look at me as if I was your world and you love me so freely and so...easily. You accept my imperfections and love me for myself and not because I'm a star..." He held her hand and pulled her up with him as she started tearing up despite trying hard to not cry. Gray smiled lovingly at her—the one he only reserved for her and never showed in public. " Thanks for loving me, Wat'drop."

Without minding the public—because she saw only him—she brought a hand to his face and he leaned in her touch still giving her that loving look. She smiled, her heart and mind racing as her whole being was consumed of an overwhelming love for the man standing before her. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a sweet, soft kiss that sent the room shaking in fan's wild ovation.

When the lovebirds departed from each other with matching grins, hands still intertwined, Mira almost fainted but managed to end the show with hearts in her eyes.

The young couple was in the back of Gray's car as they were been driven back to their respective homes. Juvia was asleep on his shoulder as he kissed her head and stroked her hair tenderly. She's been working on her new album for the past week when they just finished their album and even before the interview, she was asked in her studio. He knew that she barely had enough for the past months. Gray was grateful to his production house to be on vacation but it's not the case for Juvia. She's to work for at least a week or two before her own holidays. Thankfully, he would be still on holidays by that time, hence he'd already planned their vacation—It was a surprise for her.

Half an hour later, Gray was carrying his girl to his bed in his penthouse slowly to not disturb her sleep. He lied her gently on it and proceeded to take her heals off and stripped himself, leaving only his boxers before climbing up in the bed with her. Juvia almost immediately clung to him like a koala, her head placed on his chest, a leg on his and an arm across his stomach. With a soft smile, he wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to him.

- " Are you sure you don't want to get comfortable before sleeping?" He whispered after a moment. She only tightened her hold on him. Gray rolled his eyes and ran a hand in her hair as he stared down at her.

- " I know you're awake Juvs."

- " Why didn't you change my dress?" Her voice was muffled due to her position as she buried her face in his neck. "I don't mind it. It's just you."

Gray's heart skipped a beat and he rubbed circles on her bare arms.

- " I respect you too much to take advantage of you while you're sleeping." He murmured.

She raised her head up with a yawn but gave him a sleepy smile. "Gray, changing my dress to make me comfortable on bed is not taking advantage of me. You're my boyfriend so it's basically your right." He returned her smile, tucking a strand behind her ear to stare into her beautiful blue orbs.

His smile turned soon into a gorgeous smirk. Oh boy. Juvia flushed and shivered in his hold as his hand pulled the straps of her dress slowly. His eyes were intense on her as he murmured, "Why, I don't have a problem stripping you Wat'drop." His fingers caressed her bare shoulders burning her skin as they went by. "In fact, I prefer you naked around me." His lips trailed from her ears to cheeks down her jaw and Juvia placed her hands on his chest to push back slightly to stare down at him with an adorable pout.

- " You're such a pervert." She murmured. He pecked her lips in response before looking at her innocently. " I'm using my boyfriend rights here." She hit his chest lightly with a soft frown that turned into a smile, wiggled out of his hold ignoring his protests.

- "Close your eyes boyfriend."

- " Nope." Gray grinned back as he found the perfect position to stare at her, his eyes trailing to her bare neck and shoulders as she held the dress to her chest.

Juvia glared at him for a moment and he held her stare before she shrugged. Gray's eyes widened as she let her dress fall and pool around her feet and stood before him, clad only in her undies. He openly gaped at her too surprised to react as he took her in.

Gray knew Juvia was beautiful. He's known her for almost six years now and he'd seen her in daring dresses before.—it was part of the job. But right now, she was actually standing in his room, in his arm length, only in her navy matching underwear. She was a goddess. Before he could even process what was happening, her hand was unclasping her bra and Gray hurriedly turned to the other side, cursing as Juvia's laugh filled the room.

He was a goner if he saw her naked. He wouldn't be able to not jump her after so Gray shut his eyes tight and pushing away the amazing vision he just saw into the back of his mind as he waited for the little tease of his girlfriend to finish changing.

A moment later the bed shook and her arms slipped around his torso from behind as she placed her face on his cheek. He felt her bare legs slipping on his and he knew that she was wearing his t-shirt. He could handle it. He'd already seen her in his clothes and she's very—Stop right there, Gray.

- " Comm'o look at me..." She chuckled, "...I'm not naked—

- " Shut up." He groaned. She placed a few kisses on his cheek with a smile and after a moment, he finally turned on his back. She smiled brightly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

- " I love you." She whispered and kissed his jaw before tucking her face under his chin.

- " I love you too Wat'drop." He kissed her head squeezing her to him.

- " You said sweet things at the interview." She murmured.

- " I was being honest." He said as he caught her looking at him lovingly—as if he was her world. "And I meant every word." She was his world.

She hummed happily and closed her eyes. His arms were her safe, warm cocon. Her place.

-" Speaking of interview..." she lifted her head up in question, crossed her arms on his chest and placed her face on it, staring at his face. " You said something about crush." His lips tugged up and her own tugged hp in a slow smile under his curios gaze.

Juvia cupped his face with a hand and smiled adoringly down at him. " I had a crush on you in high school. Remember our first meet?"

He recalled it with a fond smile, " You fell on me with books dropping on us. There's so much dust and we started sneezing and the old librarian was yelling at us like a mad woman."

The blue haired girl chuckled happily. " Well, I guess I didn't only fell on you that day but also fell for you."

Gray's eyes widened, " You loved me back then?" His heart thumping against his chest and he was sure that she could hear it, judging by her smile.

- " I thought it was a crush at first. You were so handsome and—"

- " Were?" He raised a teasing eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. "—are and I just liked looking at you..." her eyes locked with his in a playful gleam. " That is until I knew that you were my rival in everything. Literally everything!" She groaned dropping her head on his chest. "It was so annoying. You always beat me in one point or just behind me in a point. So annoying!"

Gray snorted rubbing her back. " I was not used to have a competitor and I hated to lose." She mumbled before lifting her head to face him.

" You hate to lose too." He chuckled but didn't say anything letting her rant about how annoying it was to be constantly on war with him in high school.

- " But I loved bickering with you. I couldn't spend a day without bantering with you. Really." She looked up at him stroking his cheek. "Then, there's this project in our second year and we were partnered up."

- " We ended it, won the first prize." He murmured as she nodded eagerly. " We became friends during that period..." He trailed tracing his finger on her cheek.

- " We were already kinda friends—frenemies, I guess. I've always admired you. You were the first person I've ever met with so much determination to win." She whispered eyes closed.

- " Hmm, I liked you too. But too arrogant to admit it." She snorted at his statement.

- " Then best friends. We were inseparable by the end of high school..." Gray hummed a nod. " You supported me before my uncle to pursue music career."

- " It's because you were incredibly talented Wat'drop." He said sincerely. She smiled as his finger traced the form of her lips.

- " That's an exaggeration but thank you for the compliment." She opened her eyes to look at him, " Want to know something? " He rose an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue. "You were my inspiration to fight for what I want, to fight for my dream." She kissed his forehead gently, " I won't be here without you, Gray Fullbuster."

- " And I won't without you. You were my only family when things fell apart." He retorted as he recalled his dark period—when Ur died.

" You were my strength and my very reason to not give up." Her eyes glistened as his welled up, and she kissed his eyelids, lingering when lips there. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be in streets."

- " You had all our friends with you. We all had your back."

- " True. I'm grateful for them but you, Juvia, you're special. You held me together." She smiled tearfully.

- " You are special to me too. Always have been." He mumbled an 'I know' and rolled them over earning a surprised squeal from her as her back hit the mattress.

She stared up at him bringing him closer with her arms around his neck.

- " When did you know you loved me?" He asked gazing into her eyes.

- " Last year, when you were in your world tour." His love brushed the hair of his nape as he leaned his forehead against hers. " It started with little things. Like when I spent weekends in our friend's place watching movies and how you were not there to lean on or throw my legs on..." He grinned.

- " Then, we'd go to get a coffee and you weren't there to know that I don't add milk in my coffee. Then, I started missing your voice. I'd call you and couldn't get you so I would listen to your voicemail to hear your voice."

He leaned back to look at her apologetic, his being bursting with love for her. " Sorry about that. You know we barely have our phones on world tour."

- " I know, don't worry about it. But I yearned to hear your voice." He kissed her nose and lips in response.

- " By the time you were back, I knew I was madly in love with you and I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He could feel the love in her voice as she said it.

- " You aren't kidding—you practically choked me to death when you hugged me once you saw me in the airport." He teased with a grin.

- " Yeah well, I just realized I loved my best friend for years and you weren't there for eight moths. I wanted to lock you in a room and never let you go away from me."

- " It's creepy." He grinned.

- " You wouldn't have minded would you—wait why're you grinning?"

His grin widened and she held his face up and forced his eyes to hers. A moment in silence passed between them. Both of their hearts beating in sync as the realization settled over.

Juvia worded it slowly.

- " You loved me." Her tone was barley a whisper as she remained their eye lock.

- " I've loved you for a long time Wat'drop. A very very longtime that I denied and fought back my feelings."

- " Why?"

- " Because I've just lost Ur. And I've lost everyone I've loved. You, losing you...was unimaginable... I was terrified that my feelings will take you away from me so I fought them back to keep you with me. "

- " You wouldn't have lost me if you made a move earlier, Gray." She took a breath, " I've always denied my feelings for you as a crush and admiration until I really couldn't lie to me anymore..."

Gray sighed in response, "We we're both idiots huh..." She groaned, " We wasted years! We could've been together while we were still in Uni!"

Gray looked up at her, " Hey, we're together now and we've always loved each other without knowing so we're good." He shrugged and pecked her lips as she still had her pout on.

- " I'm a bit worried you...we are no more high school kids. We are popular now, successful stars in industry. And we're dating." Her voice dropped as she looked at him, " Going in public, was it a bad idea?"

- " Do you regret it?" He brushed away her hair, and she shook her head. "I'm just concerned about what it could do to our relationship...as much as I love my fans, when it's comes to their favorite celebrity's love life, they'd go crazy. Especially when two celebrities are dating. They don't see the fact that under the mask of popularity, it's two normal people with feelings and we can't really fault them." Her eyes started stinging as she stared at him. "I can't lose you, Gray."

He quickly reassured her pulling her in a tight hug. " You won't lose me." He pulled back slightly despite her pressure to stay like that. He stared into her eyes, " Didn't you say that I'm the most determined person you know?" A nod, "Juvia, I fight for what I want. " He lifted her chin up. " I'll always fight for you." He swore.

- " Promise?" Her tone was frail, and he smiled at her. " Promise. And you promise to fight for me?"

- " Always."

She brought a hand between them, holding up her little finger, He wrapped his around it and smiled when he saw their tattoos matching as their fingers locked together. Juvia dragged him to the tattoo parlor past midnight to get it in their half drunken states a few weeks ago. It was on the day of the success party of their first album together, Icy Waves. So they got themselves tattooed a drop of water on his finger and a snowflake on hers.

There's no ice without water and no water without ice. And Gray would be damned if he didn't keep that promise.

**********************

💧❄️ Happy Belated Gruvia day! ❄️💧

#gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia #fairy tail #gruvia fanfiction #grey fullbuster #fairytail100yearquest

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wil-is-done · 2 years ago

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When You’re A Mystery Kid - Chapter 22A: I Am Danny Phantom - Part 1

Summary: The Mystery Kids visits the city of Amity Park.

Word Count: 3.242

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters featured here.

Danny Phantom.

The first time Norman came across that name was after Halloween of last year, about a few weeks after his encounter with Aggie. He was browsing through some of his favorite occult and conspiracy theory websites out of boredom when a brand new article caught his eye. It talked about rumors of a real-life superhero going by the name of Danny Phantom, who battled supernatural threats with seemingly supernatural powers of his own. Norman was intrigued, and quickly became a fan. He had searched around in his spare time for more information about the mysterious hero in the following months, but every site he went to only contained theories and more vague rumors. The only thing people could agree about was that he operated around Amity Park, a city in Minnesota. Even after Danny’s popularity rose to the point that he was talked about in national television, nobody couldn’t seem to figure out who he was exactly.

That is, of course, until the whole asteroid thing.

Not even a month after the Mystery Kids stopped Weirdmageddon, a gigantic asteroid hurtling through space was set on a direct collision course with Earth. Norman remembered how, even with the Mystery Kids scattered across the country, they still frantically tried to find a way to stop it. Norman remembered the despair they felt, once they realized none of them knew what to do, and they all resigned themselves to their inevitable deaths. Suddenly, in one of the most bizarre experiences in his life, he felt a strange shift in his state of being, and then for a few quick seconds, he saw what the insides of an asteroid looked like. It wasn’t until he turned on the news that he found out that Danny Phantom, along with some of his allies, turned all of Earth intangible, letting the asteroid pass through harmlessly. That same news broadcast was also when the hero revealed his true identity; a teenager named Daniel Fenton.

Norman remembered Coraline joking about how similar his real name and his superhero name was, and while Norman was a fan, he couldn’t help but agree.

The world was abuzz with the news of its savior, as well as the undeniable proof that the supernatural truly do exist. Norman didn’t hear much from the hero after that. He had guessed Daniel wanted to keep his private life a secret, even after he ousted himself to the world, and Norman could respect that. He certainly wouldn’t want strangers poking into his private life after Aggie or after Weirdmageddon. That’s precisely the reason why he felt weirded out, not to mention uncomfortable, to be reading Daniel’s case file.

Daniel Fenton, aged sixteen. Second child of Jack and Madeline Fenton. Younger brother to Jasmine Fenton. Lived in Amity Park his whole life. Currently enrolled in Casper High School. First known by the name of ‘Invis-o-Bill’, and later as ‘Danny Phantom’. Exhibits supernatural powers that seemed to stem from his half-ghost nature.

Norman squinted again at that part.

Half. Ghost.

What?

“Yo, Norm.”

Norman blinked, looking up from the document in his hands. Neil stood in front of him.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Get ready, dude. We’re about to land.”

Norman looked around the jet, finding the rest of the Mystery Kids already left their seats and were currently preparing their gear. Norman took a peek outside the jet’s window, spotting the city of Amity Park that had started to come into view.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Norman set the document aside, unbuckled his seat belt, and rose to his feet.

“Still reading his file?” Dipper asked as he pulled his journals out of the overhead compartment and stuffed them into a backpack. “I can’t blame you. It’s interesting stuff.”

“Uh… yeah.” Norman glanced down at the file, brows furrowed. “It’s… really something.”

Norman felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find it was Neil’s, watching him with a worried expression. “Something bothering you, Norman?”

“No, no, it’s nothing, just…” Norman paused, brows furrowing again, “… he’s half-ghost.”

“I know, right? Freaky.” Neil grinned.

“Yeap, super freaky-deeky!” Mabel added from somewhere in the front.

“No, guys, you don’t get it, saying he’s half-ghost implied that-!” Norman pinched the bridge of his nose, “Ghosts aren’t a different species! It’s a different state of being! How can you be half of it?!” He took in a quick, calming breath. “Sorry, this is just… it’s breaking my worldview.”

“Heh, yeah, you can say that again. This is like finding out ghosts actually exist all over again.” Neil looked off into the distance with a smile that Norman found to be strangely wistful. “I mean, if ghosts are a thing, then that means there’s an afterlife, and that means there’s probably a Heaven and Hell, and that means God probably exist too.”

Norman stared at Neil in silence. All other activities in the jet ceased as the others joined him in his silence.

Coraline was the first to speak again. “Neil, next time, do us a favor and keep that existential shit to yourself.”

“Gotcha, cap’n.”

Coraline tensed and sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Again with the whole ‘captain’ thing. Would you guys please cut that out?”

“Well, you kinda are the captain, Jonesy.” Wybie pointed out.

“So is Raz!” Coraline pointed over to Raz, who sat closer to the cockpit. “How come he never got the ‘captain’ treatment?”

Raz, who were occupied with rummaging through a bag, replied without bothering to look up. “That’s because, unlike you, I’m not bothered by it.”

“Plus, he really doesn’t need the ego boost.” Lili added, prompting a short laugh from her boyfriend.

“Speaking of our dear captain,” Raz pulled out what looked like an emerald-colored, six-inch long metal rod from the bag, walked over to Coraline, and held the item out to her, “I was ordered to give this to you.”

Coraline raised an eyebrow curiously. “And what exactly is that?”

“Basically, it’s a psychic stun baton.” Lili quickly explained. “It’s infused with a small dose of psitanium so it can emit short bursts of telekinetic pulses. We usually give it out to non-psychic VIPs for self-defense purposes.”

“Sasha juiced this one up by a lot, so it can do way more than self-defense.” Raz continued. “Just press this button near the top here and you’re good to go.”

Coraline eagerly took the rod from Raz’s hand. She inspected it closely, turning it over in her hands a few times with a smile. “They’re rolling out the cool gadgets already, huh?”

“It’s really just a small token while everything else gets sorted out.” Raz quickly turned to the rest of the group. “For the rest of you guys; don’t worry, you’ll get some cool stuff too eventually.”

Norman couldn’t imagine what kind of ‘cool gadgets’ would aid him in what he could do, but he had to admit the mere prospect of owning one still excited him.

“Agents.” A voice called out from the cockpit. The source was none other than the blonde-haired woman piloting the jet. Norman recognized her as Agent Danvers, the same Psychonaut agent who picked him and Neil up on that fateful day, and as Norman found out just a few hours ago, one of the few Psychonaut agents that Sasha and Milla personally handpicked to help them in supervising the Mystery Kids.

Norman perfectly understood why Sasha and Milla needed some extra help. His group of friends could be quite a handful.

“Figured out a spot to land yet?” Agent Danvers asked.

Raz glanced up at Coraline with a mischievous smile. “I say we park in Casper High’s front yard.”

“No.” Coraline glared. “Unlike your Psychonaut buddies, we still remember what ‘subtle’ means, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Alright, alright, sure.” Raz shrugged. “One question, though. Why?”

Coraline gave Raz an incredulous expression. “What do you mean, why?”

“Coraline, we live in a post-Disasteroid world.” Raz replied, spreading his arms out wide. “The secret is out. There’s really no point in being subtle anymore.”

Dipper cleared his throat, calling all attention to him. “You know, for once, I have to agree with Raz. Our mission statement is to uncover secrets, not make more.” he stated. “Besides, it’ll be faster that way, won’t it? The faster, the better.”

Coraline opened her mouth to retort, but then she paused, before she flopped down into a nearby seat with a huff. “Look, just because we don’t need to sneak around on our tiptoes anymore don’t mean we have to strut everywhere we go.” she grumbled, her fingers absentmindedly pulling at her hair.

“I’m just saying, it really would be faster.” Dipper pointed out, earning him a rather intense glare from Coraline.

Norman decided now to be a good time to chime in. “Well, if Coraline is our captain, then I guess it’s her call, right?”

In response, Coraline sent him a smile of gratitude. “Thank you, Norman.” That smile then turned into a smirk directed towards Raz and Dipper. Raz simply raised his hand in defeat, while Dipper shrugged and went back to manage his backpack.

“So? What is the call, captain?” Lili asked, her arms crossed. Norman could tell she was getting impatient.

Coraline rose to her feet, though not before shooting Lili a quick sour look, and turned to address Agent Danvers at the cockpit. “Skirt around and try to find a good place to land in the woods. We’ll enter the city on foot.” Agent Danvers nodded in reply, before Norman felt the jet shift to follow Coraline’s orders. Norman had to admit, he was surprised at how accepting the agent was at taking orders from a teenager. Norman didn’t know many adults who would have that kind of demeanor.

“And then? What, we just walk around the city until we run into him?” Lili promptly asked. Coraline opened her mouth to reply, only for another voice to interrupt him.

“Uh, guys?” Wybie raised his hand, grinning. Everyone turned their attention towards him.

“For that one, I think I might actually have an idea.”

The Phantom statue was bigger than Norman thought it would be. From the pedestal it was placed upon, to the carved figure of Danny himself, to the planet that rested on Danny’s outstretched arm, Norman guessed the whole thing must be at least twenty feet tall, or maybe even more. He had always wanted to see the statue in person - he and Neil even made plans to see it at one point - and although he never expected it to be under these circumstances, he was still ecstatic nonetheless. However, it quickly became clear not everyone shared his excitement.

“Why-were-you-born, I swear to god, if you dragged us here just so you can take selfies in front of this stupid statue, I will take my new psychic baton and shove it up where the sun don’t shine.”

Wybie, who was in the middle of taking a camera out of his pocket, froze under Coraline’s glare. “Well, for one, I won’t be taking selfies.” he said, nervously, with a nervous chuckle. “And, well, for another, I just thought, you know, maybe this is his favorite place to hang out? I mean, it’s pretty cool, as far as hangout places go, right?”

Coraline didn’t say anything in reply. Instead, she swiftly fished out the six-inch long metal rod she had just received from her satchel and started marching menacingly towards Wybie. Wybie yelped and immediately sprinted away, though amazingly he still took some pictures even as he sprinted. Norman decided not to interfere, for once. Issues that arise between Coraline and Wybie have a habit of sorting itself out, and he’s certain this one was no different.

That was his excuse, as he quietly took his phone out of his pocket and started taking pictures himself.

Beside him, Lili let out a long sigh, her face buried in her hands. Raz, while still grinning at the duo that were now caught up in a full-on chase around the statue, gave her a comforting pat on the back. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we don’t find Danny here.” Lili conceded. “If he’s the type of guy that likes to hang around his own statue, I’d seriously reconsider recruiting him to the team.”

Norman was surprised to see Neil step up next to him, pulled out his phone, and started taking pictures as well. He glanced at Norman with a sheepish smile, which Norman reciprocated with a similar smile. Neil wasn’t as huge of a fan of Danny Phantom like Norman was, but it’s still not every day they get to visit a monument dedicated to an actual, real-life superhero.

Mabel, who had so far been quiet with both hands on her hips, suddenly announced, “Welp, since we’re already here…” before she took off running towards the statue with a grin.

Dipper’s eyes widened in panic, quickly chasing after her sister with a cry of, “Wait, no, Mabel!”

Raz really had to hold himself back from laughing. Meanwhile, Lili hissed out a low, frustrated, “Oh my god.”

Fifteen minutes passed before the Mystery Kids were finished with their respective, impromptu business. Norman and Neil had managed to take quite a handful of pictures, and they both agreed to share some with Wybie later. Speaking of Wybie, her chase with Coraline ended somewhat peacefully, with Coraline’s psychic baton decidedly not shoved up his rear end. Mabel returned, though now wearing a pout, after she got a stern talking to from both Dipper and the local security. Apparently, she tried to climb the statue with her grappling hook. Nonetheless, the Mystery Kids eventually reconvened in the middle of the square, some in a sourer mood than others.

Coraline sent Wybie a pointed glare. “You pull a stunt like that again, Wybes, and I might make good on my promise.”

“Gimme a break, Jonesy.” Wybie retorted, wiping off the sweat on his forehead. The chase seemed to leave him quite winded. “This statue’s the only one left in the world. It’s already been taken down everywhere else. You’re dreaming if you think I’m not gonna take advantage of this.”

Meanwhile, Dipper had his arms crossed, wearing an expression that was a mix of anger and disappointment. “Remember when I made that promise to not do too many stupid things, Mabel? I think you might have to promise me that, too.”

“I just wanted to test out my grappling hook!” Mabel whined, still pouting. “I haven’t used it since the end of summer! I just wanna make sure it works right!”

“I can think of ten other ways you could have done that without almost getting us arrested.”

Mabel’s pout shifted into a cheeky grin. “And none of them are as fun.”

Dipper simply shrugged. “Fair point.”

“So.” All heads immediately turned towards Lili, who wore a look dark enough to send a shiver down Norman’s spine. “Are we done? Please tell me we’re done embarrassing ourselves.”

“Well, that depends.” Coraline turned her attention to both him and Neil. “You two got anything stupid you wanna do before we move on?”

Norman and Neil shared a knowing look, before Neil replied, “Nothing at the moment.”

Coraline breathed out in relief, a small smile appearing on her features, but that smile immediately turned into a look of outrage once Lili hissed out, “Great job on being ‘subtle’, by the way.”

“Hey, I didn’t expect these two dorks to go running off on their own!”

“One of those dorks started running because you chased him!”

“Alright, alright.” Raz quickly stepped in between Coraline and Lili. “Let’s not cause another scene, okay?”

Norman took a glance around them. Earlier, a small crowd of bystanders had gathered around them because of their antics. Even now, Coraline and Lili’s small outburst managed to turn a few heads. At least they were treated as simply a group of particularly rowdy tourists, instead of anything negative.

Lili huffed, crossing her arms and averting her gaze. Coraline sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. With the conflict somewhat resolved, Raz continued by asking, “What’s our next move, Coraline? We’re on the clock and this is kinda been a waste of time.”

Coraline looked to be deep in thought for a few moments. “I know we know where his house is, but I don’t feel comfortable going straight there. Doing that is a bit creepy.” she casted her gaze down in a surprisingly sheepish manner. “So, I guess we check out his high school.”

Norman spotted Lili unashamedly rolling her eyes. If Coraline saw it, then she chose not to react to it.

Raz, on the other hand, reacted to the news with glee. “Alright!” he exclaimed. “We finally get to flash our new badges around!”

“No, no, no.” Coraline quickly interjected. “We are not doing anything like that.” she put a hand on her hips, now addressing everyone in the group. “Really, for just this once, I want a relatively normal day out. No chases, no explosions, no nothing.”

Norman was extremely surprised, and yet at the same time not at all surprised, when at that very moment, he could hear, somewhat muffled in the distance, something that sounded a lot like an explosion.

Coraline’s expression remained unchanged. “You ever get the feeling that life hates you?”

“Only most of the time.” Dipper remarked with a dry smile.

They all turned their heads in the direction where they heard the sound. They easily spotted a plume of dark smoke rising against the blue sky in the distance - roughly about five blocks away, if Norman had to guess - and they caught the sound of screams and crashing metal echoing down the street as well. Even if he didn’t see it happen in person, Norman had no doubts that the sound that they heard was indeed an explosion.

“Any ideas on what that’s all about?” Dipper wondered aloud.

“I’ll tell you exactly what that is.” Grinning, Raz lowered his goggles over his eyes. “That’s our public debut.”

“So,” Coraline spoke up, glancing about at everyone, “anyone in favor of ignoring that and running the other way?” Norman kept his mouth shut. The others did the same. Coraline smiled. “I know there’s a reason why I’m friends with you guys.”

“I guess we’re postponing our actual mission again, huh?” Lili said with a sigh.

Norman decided to share his thoughts. “Well, if Danny really is the hero that we’ve heard so much about, I have a feeling we’re going to run into him there.”

“Alright, two birds with one stone!” Raz swiftly put on a battle-ready stance. “C’mon, Coraline! The hunt…!”

Despite herself, Coraline grinned as well. “… is on!”

Raz was the first to sprint towards the plume of smoke.

“Mystery Kids, move out!”

So, I know I’ve been hyping this up as the ‘Danny-Mystery Kids team-up chapter’, but unfortunately I was not able to finish it in time for my regular schedule, so I had to split this into two parts in order to stick to my schedule. Apologies for this. I promise not to make a habit out of it.

The second part should be up by this time next week.

Thanks for reading this first part, and I hope you have a good day!

#mystery kids #paranorman #danny phantom #gravity falls #coraline #psychonauts #norman babcock #neil downe #dipper pines #mabel pines #coraline jones #wybie lovat #razputin aquato #lili zanotto #When You're A Mystery Kid

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years ago

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Neurodivergency, and Sephiroth

Right, I’m going to see if I can try and explain why this reading appeals to me.

For some background, I’ve watched a full silent LP of the OG, watched Advent Children, and am largely familiar with his characterisation in Crisis Core(though it gets a bit patchy in some areas). I am not familiar with his characterisation in KH, Dissida, or any other spinoff appearances.

I’m going to be looking at this with an autistic lens, as, hey, I’m autistic, however much of these patterns aren’t exclusive to autistic people by any means and thus are fairly applicable to other labels.

This is an explanaition on why I find this element worth considering, and while I hope that others can relate or take away something from this, in many ways it is highly personal and not intended to be a decleration on Sephiroth’s ‘true nature,’ as it were. I’m not claiming that this was intended by the writers-- Infact, I’d be very surprised if they considered it, at all --As many of the traits he exhibits could be brushed aside as due to his upbringing.

That being said, let’s get into it!

1. Alienation

A common thread in neurodivergency, autism in particular, is some form of alienation. This doesn’t necessarily mean being outcast-- I, for one, have been largely accepted by those around me, and yet there is still that sense of being ‘other‘ that’s always been there, long before I even had a word for it.

Now, of course, in Sephiroth this is more related to his lineage, and how it’s expressed in... well, everything. Even still, I find value in expanding that, and considering just how getting the sense you’re implicitly divided from your peers.

There is, of course, the matter of Sephiroth’s literal isolation-- However, as fun as those scenarios are to play around with, I don’t think Sephiroth was raised wholly, or even mostly in the labs. The reason being that it would be nigh impossible to have hid just what made Sephiroth different, especially knowing how observant he is. It’s clear that Sephiroth had had extensive contact with other children, as epitomised by the line:

“I knew ever since I was a child, I was not like the others. I knew mine was a special existence. But this is not what I meant!”

Sephiroth was painfully aware that he is different, even if he didn’t know exactly how. It is at once an oddly thrilling, and lonely sensation. Thrilling, because-- Hey! --You can do and see things others can’t and/or wouldn’t; and lonely, because it makes it hard to relate to others or have them relate to you.

2. Socialisation

I would like to start off by saying that, while I find it a tad more faithful and endlessly less grating than Sex God Sephiroth, Sephiroth is not a complete and utter social failure. While it’s clear he has difficulty articulating emotions and understanding others, it’s very clear even still that he knows how the game works, and knows how to play it.

This is going to dip far more into speculation territory, so buckle up.

A thing that, perhaps, I don’t see talked about often enough online when it comes to neurodivergent experiences, is that many things that are considered ‘normal‘ get experienced as systems that we need to actively learn and maneuver-- Socialisation especially!

Now, of course there is always some degree of social interaction being a give and take, a step forth and step back, regardless of neurotype, but it’s dialed up far more when you deviate from ‘the norm.‘

If I can give my own example, a thing I struggled with when I was little was humour! Not because I didn’t find things funny, or didn’t know what it was, but because I had issues grasping at the machinations of what made something funny. This lead to alot of nonsensical jokes that left my siblings confounded, until I picked up a joke-book, and started analysing from there. It was mostly alot of puns, which! Due to their simple structure, are a great way to learn the basics! I didn’t even know this was unusual, until my mother pointed it out to me years later.

And that method goes for alot of things.

Sephiroth, above all else, is observant. He makes efforts multiple times throughout the OG and Crisis Core to check up on others and ask how they’re doing. He asks Cloud how he feels returning to his hometown, and about seeing his mother, and urges Zack to check up on Aerith in Crisis Core, to name some notable examples. Even if you get the sense that his attempts are, perhaps, a little ungainly, it makes it clear more than anything that Sephiroth tries.

I think the reason that people have leaned alot more into the overly-awkward perception of Sephiroth in recent times, is because it humanises him. I feel there’s been far more of a shift within fandom to focus on the mundane, on relatability, on humanity. A veneer of endless, effortless confidence really isn’t that sexy anymore-- When sexual-appeal even comes into the matter, at all.

That being said, this section more than anything, I think, is very easy to brush aside due to his... interesting upbringing. Depending on how you construe the timeline, Sephiroth got sent to war as early as twelve, and wouldn’t have had much of an oppurtnity to develop these skills in a healthy and timely manner.

Even without that, a degree of social awkwardness is far from exclusive to any particular neurotype-- It’s the way it arises in him, though, that piques my interest.

3. Analysis and Obsession

This... I think, is the one where I’ll be grasping at straws the most.

While, yes, the obsessive research demonstrated in the OG during the Nibelheim incident and even before that to a lesser extent in Crisis Core could be some indication of a degree to absolutely immerse yourself in a subject in that Very Autistic WayTM, more than anything these are brought on by dire circumstance(the former especially by the question of his very humanity), and as we don’t see Sephiroth as a child, it’s uncertain as to whether he displayed these behaviours as such and to this degree under ‘normal‘ circumstances.

Even so, I get the feeling that Sephiroth is very analytically-minded, in a very Stranger In A Strange World sort of way(not in any way referring to the 1961 novel by a similar name, lmao). I get the feeling he’s the type of person to pick up some highly-esoteric text just for fun and come away with a menagerie of strange and unusual and obscenely specific factoids that he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

Like, someone might mention a topic offhandedly, and though he’d keep his mouth shut because He’s Like ThatTM, a slew of all the little bits and pieces he’s seen or read on the matter over the years would just jump to mind.

What I’m trying to say is, I think Sephiroth would take joy in painstakingly pouring and mulling over topics that not many people would have the consideration nor the mind to hold any long-term, inimate interest in.

If the last point was easily brushed aside, then this one you’d merely have to breathe and it’d fall apart. Nonetheless, I feel that within fandom’s current common framework with how we perceive Sephiroth, this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

I, however, want to make it clear that I can see the issue with labelling Sephiroth as neurodivergent. He could all too easily fall into the cliché of cold, emotionally and socially-inept, often rather callous depictions we see all too often in the heavily-neurotypical media that sees us as Missing Something; less than. Things have gotten better, but even still, there’s such a tendency to flatten us down to the things we can’t do, or lawd as us Potential Einsteins in spite of it-- Which, just, while it happens, on the whole it isn’t very helpful or realistic to expect this from us.

We are by no means a monolith, and while I take comfort in the idea of a neurodivergent Sephiroth, I understand that for some, it can feel like taking on a label to a character that vaguely fits the stereotype, and thus, perhaps, insinuating that to be autistic you have to look Like That-- And when it comes to villains in particular, it’s all too easy to dip into demonisation.

This isn’t even getting onto some of the issues that’d have this fall apart, were we to look at other symptoms. The first that comes to mind, and one that even I, as innocuous as I am, experience: sensory overload.

While it is entirely possible that Sephiroth learned to deal with it accordingly in life, or was forced to surpress it, because Shinra’s Science Department(cough cough Hojo) has been shown time and time again to force its subjects into little boxes and blame them for any failures expressed, the fact is that such a symptom could make fighting on the battlefield downright impossible.

Again, this is something that could’ve been given a ‘solution‘(as much as you can or even should think about long-term surpressing your basic thresholds), it nonetheless remains an issue.

I just hope that, on the whole, this served as some food for thought.

TL;DR: Sephiroth is autistic because I Vibe With It.

Also, happy Disability Pride!

#ffvii #sephiroth #character analysis #theory #scrawny speaks #ff7 #autism #neurodivergency #scrawny draws

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Shit Talk - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi !! can i please get a boyfriend JJ Maybank x kook!reader, she decides its time for JJ to meet her kook friends knowing that they’ll like him but they ended up liking him a little too much because all they did was flirt & compliment him and they also kept embarrassing reader infront of JJ to make them seem better than her? Basically fake friends trying to steal your gorgeous boyfriend out of jealousy and reader starts to cry because of this and JJ gets angry!! 😭❤️❤️

Outer Banks Masterlist

JJ slammed the door on your suv as he got out, eyes already on the large plantation style home you were parked in the horseshoe driveway of. Despite the sunglasses he was wearing he shielded his eyes as he stared at the opposing building. “Can we talk about why you’re forcing me to come to this party if you hate all the people here?”

“Cause they’re my friends from school. Sarah will be there too, I don’t hate Sarah.” You reasoned, grabbing the card for your friend’s birthday and making sure you had everything else on you. Keys tossed to JJ over the hood of the car as you slammed your own door shut. He slipped the lanyard around his neck.

“No, but you constantly bitch about everyone else.”

“It’s cause they’re the worst.” You shrugged. And they were truly the worst people you knew. Like all the mean girls from every teen drama rolled into one ultimate evil entity, these girls were literal demons but you were obligated, through school hierarchy and the desire to not ruin your social standing, to attend social gatherings like birthday parties. And you’d been blowing them off lately to spend all your time with JJ.

“But we’re going?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so confused.” JJ confessed, “you know if you don’t like someone, don’t hang out with them.”

“Says the most likable person I know.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the front door.

“Hey, just cause everyone likes me but that doesn’t mean I hang out with people I don’t like. Except you…but I really needed a new phone so-“

You stopped to turn and smack his arm, a fake gasp leaving your lips as if you were truly offended by his teasing. “JJ! Shut up. You’re such a jerk.”

“And yet you like me.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “I’m good at faking it.”

“I’ve seen you with people you don’t like…you’re incapable of fake nice.” He replied.

“Prepare to be amazed.” You leaned up, closing your eyes and pressing your lips to his for a kiss only to be interrupted by the door opening and the distinct squeal of your most hated friend. You pulled away and turned around so fast you practically gave yourself whiplash.

“Oh my god you made it!” Scarlett bounced out of the house, wide smile on her face as crossed the threshold and wrapped you in a tight hug. Despite dry hair and skin that looked like she’d just applied a layer of body shimmer her bikini was slightly damp against your cover-up.

“Hey! So sorry we’re late I was halfway out the door when I saw myself in the bathing suit I was gonna wear and had to change…it was not cute.” You lied, returning the hug. You’d pit stopped first to buy a last-minute card and take money from the atm and then to get coffee. As you had reasoned with JJ, there was no way you were surviving this pool party without caffeine in your system.

“Lies, you look good in everything.” Scarlett insisted though she’d definitely sung a different tune in the past. Her eyes landed on JJ as she stepped back and she smiled, “whose this?”

“Oh, duh, this is my boyfriend JJ, I figured when better to introduce everyone than at Ashley’s party.” You offered, stepping aside so you weren’t blocking him.

“For sure,” She did a once over of him like he was merchandise and JJ only smiled, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying anything you would be pissed at him for. He would save his comments for the sanctity of the car. “Well I’m Scarlett, there’s a lot of people here so if you forget just let me know and I’ll tell you.”

“Awesome.” He replied. Scarlett grabbed his free hand, pulling him away from you and beginning to drag him inside the house as you followed behind. He looked back at you, mouthing an ‘I’m gonna kill you.’

‘Airpods’ You mouthed back, ‘and you love me.”

He shook his head, a grim expression on his face but you knew he was only joking.

Despite the entire crowd being contained to the outside pool deck and yard you lost Scarlett and JJ relatively easily. Or, Scarlett lost you so she could spend quality time cozying up to your boyfriend. While you felt bad leaving him to the wolves while you found the drink table and chatted with Sarah, you weren’t too worried about him otherwise. You had heard all about JJ’s past womanizing from a wealth of jealous pogues but you didn’t have any doubt that he was faithful.

He was a great boyfriend, better than any guy you’d dated before. Too good to be subjected to a round table of Scarlett, Ashley, and their friends. So you grabbed yourself a drink and headed over to save him.

“Oh my god and one time-” Scarlett’s voice died off as she saw you getting closer to them and she smiled at you in faux excitement, “oh hey!”

“Hey,” you nodded at her before turning to look at JJ, “hey there you are.”

“We were just getting to know JJ. You know, vet him and all.” Scarlett replied, leaning over her armrest to grab JJ’s arm. He shrugged her off and shifted in his seat.

“Exciting.”

“You wanna sit?” He asked, tilting his head back to look at you, pleading eyes begging you to sit down.

“Oh I don’t think there’s a chair.” Ashley piped up, looking around the table. Four other girls occupied the chairs around them.

“No problem, I’ll make do.” You tapped on the arm of JJ’s chair, smiling at Ashley when he moved the chair so that you could comfortably sit on his lap. He put and arm around your waist to keep you secured and laid a kiss on the side of your neck.

“Oh, good.” Scarlett forced a smile, jaw tense. “Anyway, I was just telling JJ, do you remember that time in 8th grade when we went on that double date to the ice rink on the mainland.”

You paled almost immediately. She was really going to play that game. “Uh…no.”

“Oh my god!” Scarlett turned more toward JJ, wide smile on her face, “First of all, she was so chubby in 8th grade like thank god for hitting the gym and doing those CrossFit classes cause you looked like a potato. Plus she ate like everything! Do you remember that? You had like a hotdog and fries and ice cream and then we were skating and she said she didn’t feel good and she blew chunks all over the guy! Who was it, I can’t remember his name?”

“I have no idea.” You replied.

“Oh my god I totally remember that!” Ashley laughed. “Someone videoed it and put it up on the school’s insta...it was hilarious.”

“Doesn’t really sound it.” JJ said, grip tightening.

“You’re way cuter than he was anyway,” Ashley mentioned, “I think he was like a family friend or something. And you’ve stuck it out too, how long have you guys been dating?”

“Three months.”

“It’s good it’s the summer. You can get out before you have to experience hibernation weight.” Scarlett added and the other girls around the table laughed at the joke. You smiled nervously, trying to look unbothered by what they were saying. You should have known that the moment you sat down the attack would start, Scarlett had her eye on JJ the minute she walked out of the house.

“What?” JJ was not laughing.

“Oh my god, I don’t know what she does but she always gains like…what is it? Like 15 pounds?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Like 15 pounds in the winter.”

“Yeah get her while she’s still cute cause you are way too hot to spend time stuck with someone who bloats up every winter.” Ashley replied.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around, Ashley’s right you’re super hot.”

Suddenly Ashley smiled, reaching across the table to tap the space in front of you and get your attention. “Oh, oh my god do you remember okay, so this one time-“

“Actually, I gotta go. I got work.” JJ said, cutting her off. He bounced his knee to signal for you to get up, “babe,”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll see you guys later.” You stood, trying to remember if JJ had told you that he had a shift today. You couldn’t think but then your mind was swimming with their insults. You were only vaguely aware of JJ grabbing your hand.

“Seriously? You’re ditching in the middle of the party?” Scarlett asked, offended that he was leaving and even more so that he was leaving with you.

“Yeah well,” JJ shrugged, looking over at her, “if I stay any longer I’ll probably punch one of you in the mouth so, not really in the mood to sit around and listen to you bullshit about my girlfriend.”

“We were just joking!” Ashley insisted, “Weren’t we joking?”

“I wasn’t laughing.” JJ replied. He tugged on your hand when you didn’t move, “come on.”

The two of you excited the backyard and made it all the way to your car, JJ slipping in the driver’s side as you sat in the passenger seat, still trying not to have an absolute meltdown in front of him. And in front of the security cameras they would probably check later just to see if they made you cry.

“Thanks…” You muttered, leaning against the window.

“You weren’t kidding, they are the worst.” JJ replied as he backed down the driveway. In the santity of the car he could say what was actually on his mind and it was extensive.

“I know.” You did know, you’d been dealing with it since you were in kindergarten and Scarlett told you that you had fat thighs. “Scarlett’s known me forever so she has years of embarrassing stories.”

JJ nodded. He took one hand off the wheel and reached over to hold your hand. “You know I think you’re beautiful right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes you know and believe me or yes I don’t want to talk about it anymore so I’m agreeing with you?” He asked, glancing over at you.

You bit your lip to stop from smiling, “if you know which one it is, why are you asking?”

“Cause I want it to be the first one?” He said. “Those girls are seriously the worst.”

“Well I hang out with them less now that Kie goes to school with me but I still have to see them sometimes. I can’t avoid it.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Thanks for coming, and for saying you’d punch them in the mouth.” You said, laughing a little as you recalled the horrified look on Ashley’s face when he said that.

“Them and anyone else who talks shit on you.” He replied.

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes@millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles@tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27@dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days@jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana@tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @averagxfangirl@mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @99sxuxii@oh-annaa @katiaw2 @aiifandomsunite @marteenuhh08 @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @justkeepdreamingswift @allie-mcginn@pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @jolomez @timotaychalabae

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flying-guinea-pig · 3 years ago

Text

Not What He Seems (ch.1)

(Prefer to read this on AO3?)

(It’s happening folks. The big reveal, four years in the making.)

NotWhat He Seems: Chapter 1

Thomas' heart always beat a little faster when he summoned something, even after several years in this job. It was the thrill of calling a powerful being into this reality with only your wits and some chalk lines as protection.

Beëlzebob was an intermediate-level demon. He took the appearance of every cliché devil ever - hairy black goat legs, a ridiculously buff and gleaming red upper body, large curled horns. The works.

He was also not cooperating at all.

"You are... di̵s̢tra͢c̢te͜d," the demon whispered, his voice echoing back strangely from the corners of the summoning lab. The shadows seemed to thicken.

Thomas kept his face impassive. These were just some special effects, after all. His binding circle was perfect, he didn't need to worry.

"I have outlined our offer in this document. These are the terms you have previously discussed at length with my colleague," he said, reaching out slightly to hand Beëlzebob the carefully rolled up contract. "All should be in order."

The demon unrolled it and took his sweet time reading it through. He would make a good addition to the safe summons list, despite being a bit higher level than their usual choices. This old-fashioned approach, with the written contract and all - it would teach the students to be patient and give them time to focus on the details before shaking on anything.

"Yes," the demon said, dragging a black claw over the parchment. "These terms are acceptable. However, there is one issue."

"Is there?"

A horrible, fanged grin. "The contract must be written in your o̦̰͚w̮̮n̬͇̹̕ blood, mortal."

Maybe it was his experience with grandstanding demons, or Tyrone had been rubbing off on him, but Thomas was not impressed. "That wasn't in the agreement."

"You will rewrite it. Ḩè̲̙͙̩̤r̦e̹̦ ͏͕̥a̝̱̺͟n̘͔d ̛̦̱̲̖n̩͈̪o̰̻͓͓͢w̺͍͎̦.̪̣͇̩́"

"No, I don't think so," Thomas said, mildly. Seriously? All that work was just wasted? Typical. He was not going to use his own blood to write it, sheesh. With all those clauses and addendums the thing was way too long. Not to mention willingly given human blood had power - power that wasn't a part of this offer.

The shadows twisted - the candles flared. "You will, little mortal, or I will step over this boundary and write it myself, straight from your veins."

"This attitude is not convincing me you're a good fit for our list."

"You have summoned me and I will not leave without my deal!" Red-tinged smoke filled the circle, edging over the chalk lines and spreading into the room. It stank of sulphur and decay.

Thomas coughed. Dramatics aside, maybe it was time to get rid of Beëlzebob. Too bad, Hicks would be disappointed to cross off another name on the safe summons list… It had shrunk a lot in the past years. If this kept up their students would soon only get to summon the Organ Duck. If they couldn’t offer a proper practical education they might eventually run out of interested students as well, which was bad news for the survival of the demonology department.

"Whoa, did someone drop a rotten egg in here?"

Tyrone usually didn't barge in during summonings, especially when they were trying to get more demons for the safe summons list, but this time Thomas didn't mind. The open door let in some fresh air and that was very welcome at the moment.

Tyrone entered the room, waving away some of the smoke. "Hey, Hicks mentioned you wanted to have a talk?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Thomas said, distracted. The smoke was dissipating with record speed and Beëlzebob was visible again, staring at Tyrone in abject terror. "I'm a bit busy right now though."

"Do you need any help?" Tyrone offered. His smile was perfectly friendly.

Thomas glanced at Beëlzebob. "As a matter of fact, he was just leaving."

"Yes! Yes indeed," the demon hurried to say. "Just leaving. Right now. I’m going. Big misunderstanding, you know how it is, have to be somewhere else, goodbye now!"

“Thanks buddy," Tyrone said. "Very accommodating of you, leaving without a deal like that. I will remember this. Here, have a snack."

With a snap of his fingers a familiar deep-fried ball appeared, partly wrapped in a festive paper towel.

Beëlzebob caught it with a flinch and popped away without another sound.

“So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Just a second, let me clean up first.” He frowned at Tyrone. “Speaking of cleaning up, what happened to your shirt?”

“What?” Tyrone glanced down at the brown stains on his usually so crisp white shirt, and made a face. “Aw man, seriously?”

“Do I want to know?”

“I bumped into Banerjee on my way here. He was carrying samples. And he didn’t even apologize, can you believe it?”

Banerjee was the Cryptozoology department’s newest hire, working on his doctorate involving – honestly, Thomas had no idea, he just knew it involved a lot of mud. He wasn’t aware of Tyrone’s true identity. The university staff tried to keep that one under wraps. Parents might object to their children coming to a university where Alcor the Dreambender was frequently hanging around.

“He owes me a new shirt.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You can literally make it brand new with a thought.”

“He doesn’t know that. It’s about the principle of the thing.”

Shaking his head, Thomas set to work. To his students it often came as a surprise that practical demonology involved a lot of cleaning up. The preparations were extensive, of course, but afterwards someone had to put away the candles and mop up the chalk, blood, and other assorted fluids the demons occasionally left behind. Beëlzebob in particular had left footprints of some kind of sulphurous ooze that he probably shouldn’t handle without gloves…

Safely removing summoning circles was an art, really. It’s not like you could just start scrubbing away with these things – the outer part was usually the binding circle, and you never knew if the demon was still hanging around, invisible, waiting for you to make a mistake. Not that he expected something to happen while Alcor the Dreambender was literally waiting at the door, but proper caution was a good habit to have.

“You know, I could clean this up for you with a snap of my fingers,” Tyrone mused, lounging against the wall while he waited. His shirt held no trace of the brown stains.

“Are you offering?”

“For free?”

Thomas snickered at the almost scandalous look on Tyrone’s face. Put down his cleaning supplies. He had planned to do this differently, but you know what? Now might be as good a time as ever. And it would be fun, wouldn’t it, to put Tyrone off-balance for a moment? “How about a deal then?”

Tyrone perked up.

“You get this room back to its cleaned-up, usable state,” said Thomas, and felt the smile break through on his face. “In return, you get to be my best man.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Tyrone long to realise. “Thomas! You finally popped the question then?”

“Yep. I said I was going to do it soon, this can’t be a surprise –“

“And she said yes?”

“We did talk about it beforehand, you know –“

“Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Thomas grinned. “So, what do you say? Fair warning though, being my best man comes with certain responsibilities. Making sure I’m on time at the wedding and such.”

Organising the stag night as well, technically. Though Thomas suspected Brad already had some thoughts in that direction.

“I’ve been someone’s best man before, I know how it goes,” Tyrone said. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Thomas.”

The room around them shifted, the magical arrays fading away and taking the trailing odour of brimstone with them.

Tyrone’s expression shifted too, as he let go of Thomas’ hand.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing.”

“You seem upset?”

“I am happy for you,” Tyrone said. “It’s just… you’re getting old.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean – look at you! Getting married. Maybe kids and a house, soon.”

“I’m not buying a house on a teacher’s salary,” Thomas said. “The rest… who knows? We’ll see how it goes. Is that what’s upsetting you? That I’m growing up?”

Tyrone shrugged awkwardly. He seemed smaller somehow. “You’re going to be very busy with all that – that life stuff. It’s happening already. Everyone is so busy. Your dates with Elisha, Eddy’s got his new job, Brad’s mucking around in his dad’s company - when was the last time we all hung out, just for fun? Not because it was someone’s birthday or anything? It’s been ages since we had a game night.”

That… had been a while, true. “I guess that’s what happens when you get older. There are more demands on your time, you get to juggle more responsibilities.”

“I’m not getting older.”

“Right.” Thomas took a deep breath. “Listen, so… we’re busy more often. And it’s not like in college, where we all could just hang out all the time. But you’re basically part of the family, Tyrone. Alcor. You’ll always have a place here. And I’m sure the rest of the gang would say the same.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Thomas said. And smiled, to lighten the mood. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’d just miss all the amazing deals I make with you.”

“Of course” Thomas said, glad Tyrone was now teasing instead of moping. “I’m clearly only using you for your clout as Alcor. You’ve made my life so much easier.”

Tyrone mimed a gasp. “Sarcasm, Thomas? Ouch.”

“Not entirely sarcasm,” Thomas admitted. “You do make my life easier, sometimes. When you feel like it. For instance, vanishing that sulphurous stuff Beëlzebob left behind, I was not looking forward to handling that. The smell lingered.”

Tyrone suddenly looked way too innocent. “Oh, I didn’t exactly vanish it.”

Oh Stars. “What did you do?”

“Might have put it somewhere. Like, oh, I dunno… Banerjee’s car.”

Thomas facepalmed. Serves him right for making a vague deal like that. “Is it at least safe?”

“Define ‘safe’.”

“Tyrone!”

“Don’t worry, Thomas, I promised not to deliberately harm the university’s students and faculty, remember? He’ll be fine.”

“All this for an accidental stain on your shirt, really?”

Tyrone folded his arms in front of him. “He didn’t apologize.”

Thomas shook his head, exasperated.

Demons. They really knew how to hold grudges.

--------------

The Mindscape was a vast, endless realm where the strong hunted the weak and territories were defined, invaded, and redefined. This was the place where demons lived, and they didn’t like each other any better than they liked humans. The collective noun for a group of demons, as they say, is ‘a carnage’. Teaming up was rare, and more often than not ended in the stronger one destroying the other as soon as their goal was met. That was just the natural order of things.

Even so, sometimes even they needed a neutral place to go. Somewhere deals could be made without worrying about being devoured. This place was the Midway Bar, run by a demon known only as the Bartender, and for the past six years it had attracted a group of regulars.

They took over the table in the corner. Sometimes the group lost a member, occasionally it gained one. They weren’t here to make deals. They were here to drown their misery and sneak away before a stronger demon took advantage of their intoxication to ambush them outside these walls.

Beëlzebob entered the Midway Bar. He went straight to the Bartender, who after a short conversation pointed in the direction of the gloomy table in the corner.

“Get lost,” Flaga the Eagle-winged said, at his approach.

The demon next to her, who mostly looked like a giant fungus with teeth, curled a green tendril around their glass. “Yeah. This is a private party.”

Beëlzebob paused. He was stronger than each of them, he knew. But this was no place for threats. “Apologies for the interruption. May I sit?”

That wasn’t how demons talked to each other, especially not to a bunch of low-levels like them. They shared a suspicious glance. The one across from Flaga, some kind of feathered crocodile hybrid, raised his empty glass meaningfully.

Of course. “Listening can parch the throat so,” Beëlzebob said. “Let me get those refilled for you, and then we̙̮'̥͉̘ll̟̮ ț̳̮a̪̩̗̥l̯̹̹k̰.”

#transcendence au #alcor the dreambender #thomas strange #fic: not what he seems #the midway bar #demons #I mean it's TAU so that's a given

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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round.

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”.

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament.

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm.

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in.

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly.

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue.

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”.

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested.

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”.

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”.

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you.

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger.

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed?

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad.

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day.

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked.

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked.

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief.

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”.

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him.

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts.

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness.

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”.

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure.

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped.

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”.

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection.

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool.

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him?

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”.

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”.

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President.

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore. “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did.

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”.

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”.

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”.

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”.

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon.

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”.

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you.

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”.

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife.

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back.

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother?

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up.

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober.

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”.

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all.

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”.

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”.

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked.

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”.

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #Kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #cross my heart #Kingsman: the golden circle #Pedro Pascal

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athenadione · 4 years ago

Text

pizza and feverish confessions

No one:

Me: DID SOMEONE SAY WHUMP

Okay so it’s only light whump, with an emphasis on comfort. Will I go to the grave believing that Damian is a big softie when it comes to sick Raven? Absolutely.

Words: 3,909

Rated: G it’s all appropriate... this time ;)

Pairing: DamiRae

Click Here to read on A03

It starts out with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the back of her head. A little dizzying, but not enough to disrupt her equilibrium, so she brushes the feeling aside and chalks it up to a flare of her empathy. Throwing up a few mental shields to keep the plethora of auras at bay, she continues walking down the street with the rest of her teammates, nearing Pizza Corner.

A popular hotspot for locals, they have to request seating ahead of time so that the employees can prepare for a visit from the Titans. It’s always a daunting task to go out in public. The employees have to barricade a spot near the back of the restaurant for them to eat in peace, and constantly combat the flow of customers that walk in all for the chance to meet them. Obviously, they don’t do it often. The sheer amount of work it takes for them to dine-in never takes less than an hour. But today Gar insisted, and Kori can be a sucker for cute, green kittens; So naturally, they made a reservation.

The restaurant is already buzzing with activity by the time they turn the corner, still about a block away. Hosts and waitresses are shuffling people out and the crowd is growing considerably, all looking for a chance to get an autograph or picture with a Titan. They’re used to all the chanting and the yelling, but today it bothers her a bit. Already she can feel a tension headache blooming just behind her eyes, and she resists the urge to rub at her temples with her fingers. Maybe she stayed up reading too late last night.

She says nothing about her ailment and continues walking, appearing unaffected to everyone that doesn’t know what to look for in her face- a light grimace tugging at the corners of her mouth, and eyes that flutter shut a moment longer than necessary.

A few employees jog out to escort them the rest of the way, and Kori thanks them warmly, resting a hand on one of the men’s shoulders. The way the man looks back at Kori can make any woman mad with envy. Complete, undivided attention and adoration. Really, she can imagine literal red hearts leaping outwards from the pupils of his eyes accompanied by the loud sound of an ahooga horn. It nearly makes her snort, but instead she arches a delicate brow. With a reminder to herself to watch less Cartoon Network, she allows herself to be ushered into the building by another employee.

When she feels the brush of a well defined chest against the length of her arm after stepping inside it takes her a moment to realize it’s Damian. He must have stayed close behind her from the way he’s angled his body, shielding her from view. She remembers a time when his body wouldn’t even be able to take up half the space of the door. Now, at twenty two, he can easily provide coverage from the crowd- which she’s certainly grateful for. One would think after nearly a decade of superhero experience she’d be used to the publicity. Reluctantly, she admits that she’ll probably always be a little uneasy when it comes to large crowds.

“Beast Boy, stop flirting and get in here!” Jaime is seen tugging on the Changeling’s arm, practically dragging him in the diner. Gar comes begrudgingly with promises to the horde of females surrounding him to come back later for pictures. The foray of giggles that is heard a few seconds after leads Raven to believe that he’s said something else that’s borderline inappropriate, and from Damian’s eye roll she knows that he heard exactly what it was.

“Come on Beetle, I was this close to getting that blonde chick’s phone number!” Gar laments, rather dramatically Raven thinks, and continues his protests all the way to the door.

“Hurry up you two, we’re ready to be seated.” Kori says, shooting Gar a glance, the warning to behave clear in her eyes. Raven admits that she’s impressed when Gar doesn’t immediately shrink back like he used to.

“Sorry Star.” He mumbles, letting Jaime pull him past both her and Damian to follow behind Kori. Raven watches them a moment, willing the dull throb in her head to ebb, but it doesn’t cease. A light frown crosses her features when she realizes that she’ll likely need to meditate an extra hour today for the pain to subside. And perhaps take a few ibuprofen.

Behind her, Damian steps around her and lowers his gaze to meet her eyes. “Raven, are you okay?” He asks, touching her arm lightly. “You have a headache?”

Raven blinks, the only evidence of her surprise that Damian had been able to read her so well. But then she remembers that they’ve been teammates for years, and of course he would be able to tell, just as she can tell that the lilt in his tone is concern, not annoyance.

“Yeah.” She breathes and closes her eyes again. “I’m okay, I just need to meditate when we get back to the tower.”

When she opens her eyes again she sees him press his lips together and narrow his eyes like he doesn’t believe her and he’s definitely going to argue with her...but to her relief he says nothing, just gestures to the large booth where the others are already seated.

“Come on, the sooner we eat the sooner we can leave.”

She nods lightly, aware of how the movement heightens the pain of her headache, and turns to walk to where Kori is waving for them. Then Damian places a hand to her lower back and begins to guide her through the clearest pathway to the booth, unaware of the light blush heating her cheeks. Even after all this time she still hasn't gotten the courage to admit to herself what the pang in her chest is when he does little things like that.

Shoving back emotions that she refuses to interpret, she focuses her attention on the booth ahead of them, giving Kori a shrug when she sends her a curious look.

“Man they always have the best veggie pizzas. I wish I could eat here everyday.” Gar states to no one in particular. Jaime takes offense, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “How can anyone come here and eat vegetarian pizza? That should be considered felonious.”

“For once, I’d have to agree with Beast Boy.” Damian tells them both, stepping up to the booth first, then he reaches out with an open hand for her to take it. His hand is cool, contradicting the heat that she’s feeling from her headache. He gestures for her to step into the booth first and she scoots beside Jaime. Then he follows behind, effectively closing her in.

“Are you serious? Did everyone hear that?” Gar’s eyes widen in excitement, and he jumps in his seat, nearly sloshing his drink. “I want this in writing.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Damian quips back, eyes scanning the menu. The pout that Gar sends him makes Raven smile, mildly amused at the way his canines protrude over his upper lip.

Any plea that may have come from Gar’s mouth is silenced when the wait staff swoop in to get their orders. As quickly as they left, they come back with her and Damian’s drinks, and they are already set to make their pizza. Fast and succinct, the waist staff pride themselves on their service, and they deserve a considerable tip for the effort they’ve already given to allow them all to eat here. She makes a mental note to mention that to Kori when there’s a light itching in the back of her throat, and she takes a few sips of her water to combat it.

Conversations between her teammates continue, and Raven’s content to remain silent and listen to their banter, leaning back into the cool upholstery of the booth. The haziness in her mind grows, accompanied by a lightheadedness that makes her breathe deep, repeating her mantra to focus. In one corner, she finds a tear in the mahogany leather. Eyes beginning to glaze over, the longer she stares at it, the more black dots begin to swim along her vision.

At some point she vaguely recognizes Dick’s voice across the restaurant, joining them in his Nightwing suit. The joy she feels bubbling from Kori’s aura is enough to bring her back to the present, vision now clear, and she sees Dick slide in beside the Tamaranean. Everyone shifts to make room and Raven’s thigh brushes Damian’s when it’s her turn to scoot over.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Dick asks the entirety of the table. There’s a series of replies, each ranging from a curt “Fine,” to “I’d be better if I had my pizza right about now,” to a bemoaned “Thanks a lot Nightwing! It was already hard enough getting phone numbers with Robin around, now it’ll be impossible!”

Raven just nods in greeting, knowing that Dick won’t consider her silence as rude. Something she’s thankful for. Dick takes it all in stride as he always does, and he easily fits in with their group dynamic, bantering back and forth with Gar and Jaime all the while shooting the occasional tease to Kori. He even manages to make Damian smile once or twice- a considerable feat to accomplish.

Eventually they all settle down again and her eyes begin to feel bleary once more. This time a light shiver follows all the way up her spine, and she barely contains the shudder that threatens to wrack through her body. It does cause her to lightly brush against Damian’s thigh again though, and she’s very aware of his keen, inquiring eyes on her. Looking up, she sees the question in his gaze.

And she wants to put the concern she feels in his aura at ease, but at this point the ache in her head has pretty much developed into a migraine, and any jarring movement sends her head spinning, so she just gives him a small smile, if a bit forced. And as much as she’d rather go home and lay down in the dark, everyone’s having a good time, and they don’t get to go on public outings often together. She doesn’t want to ruin it by cutting their trip short. Besides, she’s been through much worse.

Even so, when their pizza finally arrives Raven only picks at hers, taking a few small bites for show, but her migraine is starting to make her feel nauseous, and the itch in her throat is scratchy, making it uncomfortable to swallow.

After a while, a heat begins to sizzle over her skin even as she’s bundled in her thickest cloak. Beside her, Jaime is arguing with Gar over which pizza is the best on the menu. It escalates to a point where Gar begins to point out how many slices of each kind of pizza everyone’s been eating until he gets to her own plate.

“What’s wrong Rae, you don’t like your pizza? You love pepperoni.” Gar pipes up from across the table, a piece of veggie pizza in one hand and a crumpled napkin in another. His brows are drawn together in disapproval when she follows his eyes to her plate. Only one slice of the two that she had taken from the pepperoni and cheese pie in the middle of the table is half eaten.

Aware of everyone’s eyes on her, she feigns nonchalance as she fights back another shiver. “Yeah, I do. It’s good.” She swallows, then takes another sip of her water to moisten her throat, looking back down at her plate. “I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”

Beside her, Damian narrows his eyes and turns in the booth to observe her blatantly, ignoring Dick and Kori’s curious glances. Feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense stare, Raven wraps her fingers inside her cloak, pulling it tighter around her body. His eyes sweep her figure pensively, then rest back onto her face, taking in the glazed expression on her face.

After a few more moments he crosses his arms and gives her a reprimanding glare. “You’re getting sick.” He deadpans.

Immediately words of denial bubble up her throat, still conscious of everyone’s attention. “I am not. I’m fine.” She says, and as punishment the pain in her headache blossoms tenfold right at the base of her skull.

Despite the clouding in her mind she can still feel the brush of Damian’s aura, a tinge of both worry and frustration lapping at her empathy. “Tch. You’re a horrible liar and this is ridiculous.” He vaguely motions at the table they’re sitting at. “You shouldn’t be forcing yourself through lunch when you’re feeling unwell.”

The others voice similar echoes of concern with promises that she shouldn’t feel guilty for staying, and Raven sighs because this is what she has been trying to avoid. She waves off their concerns. “I’m okay, really. Let’s just enjoy the rest of lunch okay? I’m fine.” She repeats.

“I think we’re all ready to go back anyway, right guys?” Kori asks before Damian can argue with her further, looking at Jaime and Gar. Together they nod and begin to shuffle as one when Kori and Dick step out- Dick leaving the group entirely with the check in his hand.

Guilt swells in Raven’s chest, knowing how much the team had looked forward to being together on a relatively calm day like this, which is so very rare. “Wait, Star.” She winces as the raspiness grows in her voice. “You said you wanted to go to the mall first, we still have plenty of time.” Kori’s been wanting to go for weeks now.

Scooting out of the booth to follow her teammates takes more effort than she’d like to admit, but Damian hovers close by, taking her elbow and helping her step down. His gloved hand around her arm is much colder this time, causing a shudder that she can’t contain anymore.

Standing is not a good idea, Raven thinks. Her legs wobble and she locks her knees to stop them from shaking, and gods why is it suddenly so hot in here? She completely misses the first half of Kori’s response.

“...and besides, the dress I want to buy will still be there the next time I go.”

The world tilts on its axis, or rather Raven tilts, taking the world with her when she takes a step. The sudden lightheadedness she feels is so overwhelming she doesn’t even notice that Damian still hasn’t let go of her arm.

Someone within the vicinity of her incapacitated hearing begins to speak. Is it Gar? His voice sounds so far away now and her movements feel sluggish. There’s a light ringing in her ears that increases in tune with the pounding of her head, and through it all she feels that she’s broken out in a light sweat.

“Raven?” She looks through bleary eyes to see Damian’s face contorted with alarm. It makes her want to reach out and cup his face because he’s normally so stoic, and the worry creases above his brows don’t suit him at all. What would he do if she reached up on her tip-toes to kiss them until they receded?

She never gets the chance to find out, because the black specks dancing at the edge of her peripherals fill her vision all too quickly, and before she’s able to take another step forward her knees buckle, falling into Damian’s arms as swiftly as she falls into unconsciousness.

“Oh my god, Raven!”

She’s not fully conscious when she catches hints of low whispers near her, nearly drowned out by the beep of a machine next to her ears. Groaning softly, her senses are overcome with the aching in her leg muscles, and how hot her skin feels against the sheets she’s tucked underneath. A shiver wracks her body and she involuntarily curls into herself on the bed she’s in. Cords follow her body, attached to the pulse oximeter that she briefly notices is on her finger, along with an I.V. in her arm.

Faintly, she hears the sound of the t.v. playing in the background. She thinks it’s Scooby Doo. Either someone had turned it on for her when she woke, or Gar’s been in this room recently. Nonetheless, it’s enough to make her realize with mild amusement that she reminded herself to watch less Cartoon Network, not more.

But that amusement is short-lived when there’s a dip in the bed, the movement making her moan as the aching in her legs heightens, and she opens her eyes hazily.

It takes her a few seconds to focus on the figure beside her. “Dami…?” She croaks and immediately regrets speaking from the sharp pain in the back of her throat. “Ah..hurts.”

Luckily Damian isn’t one for small talk and he just rubs her upper arm lightly. “I know, don’t speak.” He says gently, “You have strep throat and the flu. Your fever got worse overnight.”

Damian presses something cold and wet to her forehead, and she sighs in reprieve as it soothes her heated flesh. Her eyes flutter shut once more and she’s already drifting off to sleep, barely hearing his next words. “Get some rest habibti. I’m here.” The darkness takes her under, and this time she welcomes it.

The next time she wakes she thinks she must be delirious.

Damian is mere inches away from her, pressing his lips to her temple in a light kiss, and whispering something to her in his native tongue.

If she wasn’t so sick then this would be heaven- waking up to his soft kisses. And maybe it still is in her own mind, because she’s honestly not sure if this is real.

A wave of nausea disrupts that train of thought and it courses through her stomach. She shoots upwards into a sitting position, head spinning. And she must’ve done this before because a small trash can is placed directly under her mouth as soon as she sits up, and she grasps at it weakly, vomiting up bile. Hands gather her hair gently at her nape, holding it back for her as she continues retching. Then she’s just dry heaving for a few minutes after there’s nothing left to throw up, and her stomach twinges achingly.

Someone starts rubbing soothing circles at her back and cooing into her ear, and she finally has the energy to glance back, recognizing those familiar emerald orbs that look back down at her in sympathy. When it’s clear that she’s finished he takes the trash can and places it next to her bed, within reaching distance. Gratefully taking the hand towel from his outstretched hand to wipe her mouth, she wonders if she should feel mortified at the fact that he’s seeing her in this state, but another shiver wracking through her body halts that train of thought too.

“Raven?” She must’ve spaced out at some point because she’s now leaning back against the fortress of pillows that have been fluffed for her, and Damian is hovering above her.

He reaches out an ungloved hand and tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and she wishes she had the courage to ask him to keep stroking her hair like that. “How are you feeling?” He asks her.

She just shakes her head, not trusting her mouth to speak. Also, her throat feels raw after vomiting. The lingering taste of bile makes her grimace.

“Try to sit up for me, you need to hydrate.” He calls out softly and she wonders how she didn’t notice the glass of water in his hand before. Bracing shaky palms into the mattress, she manages to pull herself up enough to earn a hum of praise. A straw makes its way to her mouth and she accepts it without argument, knowing from the set of his jaw that if she tried to she would certainly lose. The few sips she’s able to stand helps ebb the burning sensation in her throat, and Damian encourages her to take a few more. Then, she’s shaking her head and pushing away the glass. He relents, murmuring his approval. Soft, low tones. “Good. That’s good, Raven.” A hand threads through her hair again and she leans into his touch, taking the small comfort he’s offering despite how out of character it is for him to be so...intimate.

The soft, rhythmic brush of his fingers through her hair distracts her from the ache in her legs, and the dull throb of her headache. It helps tether her to consciousness enough to open her eyes more clearly and see the gentleness in his gaze as he watches her.

When she opens her mouth to speak her tongue feels like cotton, but she continues anyway. “You...don’t have to stay.” Her voice sounds like she’s been screaming in terror for hours until finally succumbing to an unbearable torture, and she winces at how pathetic it must sound to him too.

He just shushes her and continues threading his hand through her hair. “I’ll leave if you insist, but I’d rather stay...if that’s alright.”

All she can do is nod. They fall into a comfortable silence, which Raven cherishes. Damian’s always seemed to know when silence is needed, and he gives it to her often. Having him here, helping her while she’s in such a vulnerable state sends another sensation through her chest, filling her with a different kind of warmth. Not the kind of feverish, sweaty, and boiling heat that’s bogged down her mind the past couple of days (It’s been a few days right? Truthfully she doesn’t really know). But it’s a warmth that slowly spreads throughout her entire being, pouring over into her soul that leaves a light tingling in its wake. It’s stronger than anything she’s ever felt before and it swells in her throat until it formulates into words, spilling out of her mouth before she can stop it.

“I love you.”

Another shiver reverberates through her body, and the combined ache of her muscles and persistent fever takes her back under- so much so that she doesn’t even realize the significance of what she just said. She just knows that it makes Damian give her a smile that she’s never seen before. One that softens every feature in his face, and lights his eyes in such a way that mesmerizes her through the fogginess of her affliction.

“I know.” He says in a hushed timbre, leaning down to press his lips to her hairline- an act that makes her sigh in content, despite her dazed state. “I love you too.”

He stays with her, fingers playing languidly with the strands of her hair as he murmurs into her ear- a mixture of both their common language and arabic, and she clings to the gentle undertone of his words, relishing in this new, welcoming warmth that’s now unfurling all the way down to her toes. She continues to listen to his voice as it lulls her back gently into unconsciousness.

And she knows that he’ll be there when she wakes up again, just as surely as she now knows in her heart that she loves him.

And he loves her back.

#damirae #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic #oneshot #whump #light whump #hurt and comfort #hurt and comfort feels #fluff #full text #sickfic

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irritatedandroid · 4 years ago

Text

The Fire Burns Bright

A Personal Essay From an Alolan Marowak -Jasper (@irritatedandroid, @irritatedDroid)

Summary: Below the cut, this is a personal essay written by Jasper on his experiences with being an Alolan Marowak fictherian and fictionkind. Personal experience, discussion of awakening, shifts, instincts, animality, culture and spirituality are elaborated on alongside a critical view on community narratives and boundaries.

CWs: In-depth look on death, personal experiences with death

I find there isn’t enough discussion on the fact that nonhumanity can be approached from multiple different angles and axis, instead treated like a hard binary of animality vs humanity - or if you’re lucky, a two-way spectrum. I’m someone who is nonhuman through and through, but the way in which I can experience being “other” from humanity can shift wildly. A strong sense of animality is brought on when shifted towards my Alolan Marowak fictotype - enough that I tend to strongly identify with the word fictherian. Though that sense of animality is its own thing, and is a wholly separate scale from the nonhumanity I experience when shifted towards my android kintype. But the experiences drawn from being an android could fill an essay of their own. We’re here to discuss the Marowak.

Both very not human, both very “other”, but a wholly different view upon what it means to be human and not human respectively. And I suspect the scale my Marowak self experiences may be different as well from the scale any given earthen animal may experience. Similar enough to where therianthrope discussion rings loud mental bells of familiarity and understanding, but still something else worth acknowledging. After all, how many earthen animal therianthropes feel the raw instinct of fire breath? Were-dragons however may understand that one well. And yet that animality is not something to be ignored or to set aside entirely even if the axis runs at a slightly off angle in comparison.

My name is Jasper, and some of you might know me, I’ve been around the community for a couple of years. Some folks even remember the internal grapple with identity and understanding that I had when I started being unable to deny I am an Alolan Marowak. The moment when the Alolan Marowak design was teased, and I had pointed out the familiarity as well as the typing before it was actually shown. There was a moment then when experiences and vague, blurry memories I’d held onto quietly for years without the priority of digging in deeper - as I was already busy with questioning and understanding my android kintype - became an absolute priority of mine to understand further.

I often half-joke about how my “awakening” as discussed in nonhuman communities was completely rocky, as it was. It was less a solid awakening, and more multiple years of slowly accepting and embracing aspects of my life that had always been present, which I had denied either to ease my own responsibility to myself or to appease others. Folks in the community may recall seeing me step into denial, and to substitute in any possible reptilian, fire-based creature I could in order to try and understand the experiences. Because how could I be a Pokemon? I’d been critical of fictionkin while diving into the community, something which when looking back was likely a compensation for already having been something odd and to be met with criticism - the android. I ran through a number of species when questioning: everything from earthen lizards, to draconic entities, to the elemental spirits of salamanders.

There were multiple aspects absolutely vital to communicating what I was experiencing, those being a) instinct-driven and wild, reptilian, and b) inherently connected to the elements of fire and spirit. My thoughts could be as unflattering as a scavenger’s instinct, growing frustrated at any leftover food or uncleaned-up animal remains (which sure made living in a populated city interesting, with abandoned scraps of food everywhere and the leftovers of unfortunate urban creatures who tried their luck at crossing Yonge Street), or curious to try and make a meal for myself out of the live insects I keep to feed to my own little old leopard gecko, Saleen. Yes, she was named after a car. No, that is not important. Having her around does however provide an up close frame of reference to draw out my own lizard drives. In terms of food instincts, raw eggs are absolutely another tempter of mine, as my carnivorous scavenger self would have been ecstatic to see a nest of unattended eggs to make a meal of. As I’ve learned due to that raw eggs absolutely suck, please cook them. It’s much better that way. But embarrassing nonhumanity stories will always be embarrassing.

Some of us Marowak - especially the males like myself - could become quite territorial. And that territorial feeling is something I’ve had to settle in my mind over life. Nowadays it’s decently well integrated, but it does now and then try my patience especially when it comes to setting out what is for me and what belongs strictly to me. Renting a small apartment in a populated city, once again, does definitely force you to keep the “this land is mine and it belongs to me, so screw off before you chase off my dinner” thoughts in check. A bit of human humbling for an animal’s self thought. I’ve of course needed to remind myself a number of times that the tourists in the train station on my way to work, while annoying, won’t manage to chase off the Tim Hortons I’ll be eating on my break.

But in the wild frontier of the Pokemon world, predator and prey dynamics were absolutely important to know and understand - and those dynamics reach beyond game mechanics such as elemental types and abilities. Even as a carnivore, scavenger and troublesome predator that I was when I reached the age of a full-grown Marowak, I still was in a dangerous spot on the food chain. The worst predators I’ve had to deal with while working to survive in my ecosystems were other Fire types, intriguingly. Even as a small Ground type Cubone. The fact that Cubones wear the skull of their lost mothers was something I am familiar with, my own having been taken down by a Charizard. This natural order of predation is both a major part of my animalistic experiences as a Marowak, but also did tie into my more sophisticated or spiritually-focused aspects that stemmed from my Pokemon identity and lifetime.

All of this lead to an animality-focused time in figuring out what I was, to the point where when I was in denial of the possibility of being a Pokemon, I identified myself as a theriomythic, fire-oriented reptile. And the animality definitely tends to lead the discussion upon how I live and experience being an Alolan Marowak. I sometimes joke that you could strip that side of my life down to the bare essentials and I’d be a lizard hanging out by a campfire. Though it certainly isn’t every aspect of me, as the Marowak.

At times I think on the term theriomythic, and how it could be extremely valuable in describing more than just “animal but from myth”, but to also communicate experiencing the self on a spectrum of animality and mythicality. In my case this spectrum is very much there, and the aspects of experience that make up me as the Marowak are scattered along it. All aspects are important to me and how I live as myself, as well as how I understand my own fictional animality and nonhumanity.

The Marowak, despite being a wild animal in how I recall and experience my species, do have a displayed aspect of culture and even spirituality. Setting aside the fictional wildness of being able to summon up fire at will to defend one’s turf, we’re shown to be able to interact comfortably with each other when it comes time for rituals, such as fire dancing at the sun rise and to mourn the lost. Mourning the lost is a large part of how one can experience being the Marowak as well, as it’s a pretty integral part of the species’ canon lore, starting from when we’re little baby Cubones. For those unfamiliar with Pokemon lore, a Cubone wears the skull of its dead mother Marowak. Adorning bones in a sort of ritual to mourn is something that I can’t say I’ve seen an earthen animal do. If you have then please do let me know, because it interests me a lot. But all I can say about it in my own drives and thoughts is that it’s just what we do, it’s cultural. To cite the Pokedex, “MAROWAK is the evolved form of a CUBONE that has overcome its sadness at the loss of its mother and grown tough. This POKéMON’s tempered and hardened spirit is not easily broken” (Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire, 2002).

The donning and weaponizing of bones is both symbolic and an act of mourning, but also an example of tool using similar to some of our world’s apes. The Pokedex talks of this vaguely, stating “It has been seen pounding boulders with the bone it carries in order to tap out messages to others” (Pokemon Gold, 1999). The various Pokedex entries theorize on where the bone clubs come from, some entries mentioning a graveyard specifically for Marowak existing in the world, where Cubone and Marowak get their bones. Some entries state this like fact, such as Pokemon Crystal, meanwhile others bring up this as a rumour, such as Pokemon Silver. In my experience, it’s a rumour. I’ve not seen a Marowak graveyard, my bone club first came from my mother. But the main referenced use of the bone club is as a weapon, and also as a method of overcoming grief and turning to viciousness. “It is small and was originally very weak. Its temperament turned ferocious when it began using bones.” (Pokemon X, 2013). In my case, the symbolic use of them is as a tool of war, transforming grief into a vicious will to fight on and survive. Due to this, I hold bones and particularly skulls as a sacred object and have my small collection of skulls I keep as comfort objects. With time, having a large femur bone similar in shape is a life goal.

Though it does then get taken a step further, when peering in through the eyes of an Alolan variant Marowak. A spirituality that incorporates the dead and lost is brought in and becomes an extra step of important, crediting the Ghost type aspect alongside the Fire. Newer Pokedex entries focused on specifically this variant states “The bones it possesses were once its mother’s. Its mother’s regrets have become like a vengeful spirit protecting this Pokémon” (Pokemon Sun, 2016) and “It has transformed the spirit of its dear departed mother into flames, and tonight it will once again dance in mourning of others of its kind” (Pokemon Let’s Go, 2018). Spiritual awareness is very much accepted to be something that the Alolan Marowak possess and engage with openly, even building monuments to the lost as stated in the Generation 7 Pokedex entry: “Its custom is to mourn its lost companions. Mounds of dirt by the side of the road mark the graves of the Marowak” (Pokemon Moon, 2016).

Culturally there is a lot to the Marowak’s experience, comparing and including both Alolan and Kantonian variants of the species. The species as I remember are mostly solitary but I do recall clan dynamics and groups especially among the Alolan variant. These groups were less for survival and more for the purpose of those ritual gatherings, mentioned above. At times I was very foreign to these clans, being a Kanto-born Cubone evolved in Alola (a fact supported in canon and proven in Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon via the ability to evolve a Kanto Marowak in Ultra Space). Behaviorally and culturally there are differences between Kanto and Alolan Marowak, brought on by how each looks at their situation differently. While an Alolan Marowak processes mourning in a more spiritual way, a Kanto Marowak becomes hardened by anger. “A MAROWAK is the evolved form of a CUBONE that has grown tough by overcoming the grief of losing its mother. Its tempered and hardened spirit is not easily broken,” (Pokemon Emerald, 2004). Because of this there was a separation between myself and the local Marowak that reinforced my solitary nature, and also influenced my introverted and almost outright nomadic nature in my current life and self. The fire dance under the sunrise was one known in canon. These rituals and dances are a custom humans in canon have taken notice to, and can even speculate the reasoning for. “This Pokémon sets the bone it holds on fire and dances through the night as a way to mourn its fallen allies” (Pokemon Sword, 2019). The fact that that cultural dynamic prevailed even through the difficulty of communicating is something that may be surprising, but a number of nonhumans know well that body language and tone of animal vocalizations can go a long way in communicating

Ignoring these experiences would be a step towards cutting down and denying important experiences that affect me as a fictherian and as a Marowak. There’s important parts of how I experience being this Pokemon that are heavily grounded in a context of a mystical world where visibly potent acts of fantasy are possible unlike the world we are living in here. Some of these aspects can be emulated in more subtle ways through exploration of spirituality, religion and the occult. To dive deeper into that, I used to identify as Pagan, however now I practice what is called chaos magic. Chaos magic is a magical practice that developed in England in the 1960’s, working off of Austin Osman Spare’s occult practice and ideas. Chaos magic gave me an approach and freedom to incorporate what I know and remember as an Alolan Marowak into my every-day spirituality. Tailoring my spiritual beliefs and practices to focus on working with the element of fire, with spirits and the energy of death, bones, and to the very fabric of fiction crossing over into reality was extremely important as an avenue for me to explore the way my fictotype affects me in the modern day, and in the human body. This practice also gave me a bit of freedom to accept working with an entity from my source - Giratina - as a patron deity in pagan circles, which ultimately proved to be extremely valuable in exploring my own Pokemon identity. Practices like energy work, meditation, spirit work and visualization hit close to satisfying that need to be delved into the magical world we see in animation. And yet, even in these more sophisticated and fantastical experiences lie links back to the animality and to an inherent disconnect to humanity.

One thing I always enjoy in therianthrope and non-humanoid otherkin discussions is an openness to discuss the instincts that are ugly, disturbing or outside of what one’s human morals would ever agree with in this life and time. And in a lot of cases these instincts and memories can become a lot more “ugly” than a scavenger’s drive to eat carcasses or the awareness and cynical eye needed to survive in a completely wild world. At times, a wild creature can have defense mechanisms or behaviors that to our human minds would seem outright malicious. And Pokemon, even in the whimsical canon, are no exception to that. Once again I’ll drag up a few Pokedex entries - as honestly the Pokedex is a wonderful thing for exploring the deeper aspects of a wild Pokemon - to illustrate my point. “When it beats opponents with its bone, the cursed flames spread to them. No amount of water will stop those flames from burning,” (Pokemon Ultra Moon, 2017) and “The cursed flames that light up the bone carried by this Pokémon are said to cause both mental and physical pain that will never fade” (Pokemon Shield, 2019).

Yes, even the fun and magical world of Pokemon is no stranger to wild animals who inflict effects upon others that seem absolutely awful, and in some cases cruel. But, that’s survival in the animal kingdom, or in this case the Pokemon kingdom. It can be surprising to some that a person who’s fictotype hails from the fun and upbeat franchise that defined a number of childhoods may be hardened to the need to survive in a natural world. The things I know I had done to creatures who my childhood Pokemon fan self would have only wanted to hug, at least at a baseline mental state. In a shift, that’s a different story after all.

But ultimately, this blend of experiences causes an interesting time in exploring myself within the general nonhuman community as it can be quite split up. Certain narratives of individual communities I can’t find myself fitting into, or find myself sitting in between. I settle into spaces focused on everything from therianthropy, to mythical otherkinity, and to fictionkinity, though there’s narratives and cultural aspects in every separated community that either are foreign to me or that I might confront as they expect clear-cut boxes between them which individuals can fit into. In therianthrope communities I’ve been one to criticize the expectation of a solid line between human and animal experiences, or in general animal vs non-animal with regards to forcing a further divide from the otherkin community. I’ve also been involved in discussion criticizing therian community narratives such as a shifting focus and the model of integration. The model of integration is interesting to me, as I experienced it in a way that I was unaware of at the time, particularly with my android kintype. My android kintype is almost fully integrated into me - I barely shift at all at least mentally. However my Marowak fictotype provides less integration, and my mental shifting will be a lot more noticeable against my baseline self. At times it can be as stark as appearing like a different person, or more accurately like a wild animal. But ultimately the differences in the closeness of each kintype draws up issues for me with the integration model, as well as having found it normalized a severe mental health issue I had with my traumagenic plurality at the time of “least integration”.

The therianthrope community is far from the only community with narratives that put a barrier between me and relating, especially as members of each community push for further separation between individual branches of nonhuman experience and identity. I have trouble relating to humanoids when heavily shifted towards my Marowak self, and that puts a bit of a barrier between myself and the otherkin community’s more humanoid side - such as elven, fae, divine, angelic, etc. - as well as the fictionkin community’s focus on humanoid or completely story-driven fictionkind. I have no use for prioritized experiences within the fictionkin community such as finding canon-mates and creating aesthetics. Even in some Pokemon fictionkin specific communities I find I cannot relate often. My experience with my “Pokemanity” is heavily wild and animal-based as I was never caught, socialized with a human, or trained. In no way shape or form is my Pokemanity adjusted to interaction with humans, nor is it something that is settled down or subdued for human consumption unlike what my source was created for.

In both otherkin, therian and even fictionkin communities there is a push towards prioritizing the narrative of a solid awakening. That’s one more focus in the communities that I struggle with, as like I said before, mine was a process of accepting bits of myself which spanned multiple years. Every part of me that is nonhuman has always been present within my life, though for almost two decades muted heavily.

To draw back into my spiritual practice here, consider a practice known as shadow work. Shadow work is a practice that hybridizes spirituality and psychology, and describes the process of becoming aware of one’s shadow (the id, shadow archetype, or shadow aspect drawn from Carl Jung’s psychology) and working to integrate it into oneself by accepting the repressed parts of oneself that are pushed back and merged into the shadow. The shadow can be known as the unknown dark side of the personality, and I theorize that more nonhumans have undesirable aspects of their nonhumanity pushed onto their shadow than they might think they do, like I had done to my own Pokemanity for a number of years. In my case, I was slightly forced to tear into and meet my shadow aspects of my nonhumanity due to the fact that even upon immediately breaking into nonhuman communities, the specifics of what I was were already viewed with hostility and disbelief. In a way, it strengthened me. But with my shadow opened wide and not much held back, I can be a bit of a fire-starter in spaces where I speak my mind whether others want to hear it or not. And part of that is directly confronting the forced separation of animal vs non-animal, or the arbitrary ideas of what is a human experience and what is not.

I can only best put forward my experience as a Pokemon through in-depth discussion, which I find tends to come across better in spaces where the experience of being by-and-large a feral animal is allowed without restraint. Ultimately a space I will thrive in most and be most open about my experiences and life as someone who is spiritually and psychologically an Alolan Marowak is one where I can discuss both my animality, my experience with fiction, my spiritual practice and the combination of these things that seem to be pushed into separate boxes. The Marowak serves a lot to my sense of self and to my life, and has psychological affects on me as well. It’s been a part of me that has fought through and survived when my life hit a rocky start early on, witnessing the death of my brother in childhood, and having loss and grief be present all around as I grew. The Marowak is both an inherent part and vital context in my life, as well as a symbol of my own endurance.

Through it all, the fire burns bright.

Citations

Marowak POKÉDEX: Stats, MOVES, evolution & locations. (n.d.). Retrieved April 23, 2021, from https://pokemondb.net/pokedex/marowak

Chryssides, George D. (2012). Historical Dictionary of New Religious Movements (2 ed.). Rowman & Littlefield. p. 78. ISBN 978-0-8108-6194-7.

Jung, C.G. 1938. "Psychology and Religion." In Psychology and Religion: West and East, Collected Works of C.G. Jung 11. p. 131

Roberts, Gwilym Wyn, and Andrew Machon. 2015. Appreciative Healthcare Practice: A guide to compassionate, person-centred care. M&K. ISBN 1907830936. p. 71.

#essays #personal essay #fictherian #fictionkin #fictionkind #otherkin #otherkind #personal log #alolan marowak #death tw

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