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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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Abandoned By The Altar

Part 1; When you were young.

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader (Currently both young)

Word Count -> 3611

Themes -> Initial Fluff, don't be fooled by the title and summary, not yet at least lol-

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 2

Warnings -> None, tooth-rotting adorkable fluff, this is part 1

The redness of his hair poked out like the moon in a blanketed, dark sky at the dead hours of the sky. His glaring flame of a hair starking in contrast against the sea of cecilias.

There were three knocks to the Winery that day and his father, renowned businessman, had greeted a new set of faces to their humble abode.

Diluc was but a mere child who had lived for eight years and he had exercised his mind to remember the people that had come and go. They were always regal in aura, high in stature, brimming with promises of riches. This occasion had the same weight, but with a lesser intensity with the politeness the merchant family carried.

As usual, business matter were talked about by the adults and Diluc, the young had no means to pry.

So when he finally stared at you, he was pleasantly surprised. Visitors were usually taller, more mature, and came there to talk about adult stuff... never had he met a child the same as he come with those that come talk about finances.

You slightly flinched back when your stares connected, from what he did not know why, but you carry the same shock and intrigue he felt. "H-Hello there!" Crepus ghosted a look at the two children with a wistful and amused look, softening at the sight. His sole child had always been demure and the distance from Mondstadt had kept him away from opportunities of friendship, so when your parents revealed you as their tag-along to their business proposal, he thought it was too good a coincidence to pass. He, however, didn't expect Diluc to be the first to talk.

"Hi, hi!" You bounded up to him as if barreling, your initial nerves dominated by childlike wonder as your eyes darted over him, so fast even that he doesn't know where they had already gone. "Your- your hair, eyes! So pretty!" You placed your hands on his shoulders enthusiastically, missing a distant horrified gasp and a slight shush. "Like, like... fire tornadoes!"

"Fire tornadoes...?" Diluc asked warily and you vigorously explained how the wildness of his hair carried the chaos of tornadoes that had caught a raging flame in its razor winds.

You had always been an eccentric child, your mother reasoned with the older Ragnvindr but earned a hearty chuckle. No harm done, he assured as he can't seem to take his eyes off the two of you, even tho his business was right in front of him.

After proper introductions between the two children, and a promise of a longer talk, your supposed quick visit somehow made its way to dinner.

The many servants of the Winery had caught wind of the sudden changes in the itinerary and they were quick to adapt on the preparations of dinner. In the backdoors of kitchens and maid halls there were surprising chatter that accompanied them as they work. "Young Master Diluc and the merchant's little girl seems to be getting along quite well," the nanny and the other maids started the gossip with fervor at the intriguing news. "It's greatly the reason why Master Crepus had entertained them this long, the gardener caught wind of how amused he is just watching the two interact." When the banquet table was completed before the diners had arrived, a lot of the servants hid behind the cracks of the doors to watch the spectacle for themselves, to guarantee if the rumor that spread like wildfire was true and not some hallucination.

There was a quiet series of gasps and 'aw's when the main door opened to reveal the owners of the house and its current honored guests. The towering adults parted to display you clutching to Diluc's sleeve as he guided you to extra long table, a display that you seem to not be used to based on their observations as you felt lost on which large seat to take.

And the young master thought of this as the perfect opportunity to show off the things he had learned in his sessions of proper etiquette. Locating the nearest seat, Diluc pulled the chair out and gestured you to take a seat before gently pushing it back under the table. Satisfied with the distance, he made his way opposite of you as a sign of respect for his guest.

Crepus, your mother and father watched in amusement... as you two took your seats at the other end of the table farthest from them. But they paid no mind to call you two over when they saw how engrossed you are over your own conversation.

The chatter that night was boisterous and lively on all parties, for besides business and wine, all had talked with the atmosphere of good friends.

And dinner turned into a promise of a sleepover, how generous of the Ragnvindr family. The master of the house simply reasoned that Mondstadt was still a distance from the Winery, and it was too dangerous to travel at this time of night. But the servants knew more than they had let on, for they too felt the somberness in the eyes of Diluc when your parents announced your need to departure.

At this point, this whole visit was now held up by the fact that it was their young master's opportune time for a play date.

The whole day you two had been inseparable. Either being connected physically or just naturally stuck to each other's side through and through. Despite his innate nature to be a recluse or lack of communication among his age group, Diluc find himself not at all minding the way you stuck close to him like this.

When everyone else had departed, you and Diluc were still wide awake in the parlor in front of the blazing fireplace, your hands buried in his wild hair as you talked about your travels before coming to Mond. The young man hums as replies with his eyes closed, concentrated on the way you weave your hands through his fiery locks as you made tiny braids here and there.

Once Crepus had finished tonight's negotiation and seek out his own child (of which was missing from his room) he happened upon the two of you coddled up between a fort of pillows and blankets. The fireplace long been extinguished as the children slumbered.

You were noble not by blood, but by high commerce. Your parents had been travelling all over the continent to procure business opportunities and partnerships, and their duo of both financial prowess and economic behavior mastery had earned them a place in high society and funding. Noble merchants who had found themselves in the city of freedom with their sole child in tow.

The true goal was to establish at least one commerce ports and business services in EVERY nation in Teyvat, and that requires a lot of scouting and connections to do so.

Because of the constant move, you had seen A LOT and met quite a thousand of people in every walks of life. At your young age you barely remember them all truly but the loneliness within you was not something that can easily be quenched, as travelling meant leaving everyone behind for an indefinite time.

Diluc was a one of a kind boy, most probably because you had yet to step foot in the land of the Pyro Archon, but his red hair intrigued you to wit's end. It was reminiscent of a campfire that protects you from the cold of the night, the last hues of sunset in the horizon over the cliffs of your expedition, the sweet taste of fresh strawberries hand picked from the Inazuman plantations.

So at the news of settling down for a few years in Mondstadt reached your ears, unadulterated tears of pure happiness flowed out of your eyes so shockingly that you didn't even notice them immediately.

Not until you felt small hands cup your cheeks, its thumbs fervently swiping at the wetness. Your wide eyes met Diluc's worried ones and he asked if you're alright with a gentleness you've never heard from him. You grinned, "We can play again tomorrow, Diluc!"

And the three adults in the distance sighed in great relief as your mood lifted.

You cupped back Diluc's cheeks to reciprocate and gasped in overdramatic wonder at how soft and squishy they were, squealing, and then tackling him back into the soft beds of Cecilias.

"They've really become quite close ever since we touched Mondstadt," Crepus smiled behind his cup of tea and reveling himself with the warmth it brought to his throat.

"Honestly, our daughter needs to learn manners after him. She's always been so rowdy, I was scared the young master would have run away from her brashness," your mother quipped in before picking up her own cup to savor.

Crepus shared a glance with your father as they both found their gaze back to the both of you. "Practically inseparable," they hum, "I'd say we might as well seal them together to make sure our bloodlines prosper."

Your mother choked. "Are you implying- Diluc and (Y/N)?!" At the mention of your names, you and your companion turned your heads to the adults. "An arranged marriage? At such an early age too!"

"What's an arranged marriage?" The children spat out at the same time, informing the older people of the audience they had brought upon themselves. Crepus smiles warmly at the sight of your tiny arms wrapped around Diluc's shoulder as the redhead holds a Cecilia in place by your ear.

"It's a serious promise," the Ragnvindr started, "it makes sure that both of the people stays together forever their whole lives. After a grand ceremony." Diluc knew when his father talked about serious business and that's when he usually pays attention to his words, even if majority of the time it's something he barely understands.

But the thought of being able to be with each other together forever, the young boy slowly turned his head to face you, which urged you to look at him too. There was the same color of his hair splattered at his cheeks, but his gaze on you was wide and wondrous, as if asking a silent question, "I would love to be with Diluc forever! How about you, Diluc? Do you, do you?"

"I-I do! Yes!" The young redhead tried to match your enthusiasm as the older men chuckled, your mother silently dying at the predicament.

"Then that settles it!" Crepus mused, "Even tho I didn't expect my son to be the one getting proposed on."

April 29th, the day before Diluc's 9th birthday, the first birthday of his that you would be in attendance.

The servants of the house had been busy preparing for the grand event for days now, and tasks were more than piled up on the day before the true date. Hence why you'd find yourself playing with Diluc outside of the mansion without adult supervision. Your parents had helped in organizing the party with Diluc's father, as it also doubles as an opportunistic moment of meeting nobles and honorable businessmen all over Teyvat.

"Are you excited for tomorrow, Dilu? Just imagine the towering cake, so many food, and toys!" You two were passing by the grapevines of the winery, fascinated by the shining grapes under the direct gaze of the sun.

"Mmm, there would be a lot of people tho, lots of talking and talking," you plucked a healthy looking grape from the vine before you finally looked at your companion, finding a cute little pout between his smooth and chubby cheeks. "You know I'm not good around many people."

You cooed at the confession, indulging momentarily by patting his cheek (Diluc raised an eyebrow at your weird obsession over them) before patting his shoulder, "Well, well, as your fi- financee?" Fiancée, he corrected. "Yeah that! I'll be right by your side, if you need help, I'll be right there!"

When you saw him relax under your enthusiastic grin, you patted yourself on the back before expertly throwing the lone grape into your mouth. And crunched.

"Well, I guess you're much better with people- are you okay?"

The sourness. The undeniably waxy peel. Your teeth colliding with the core seed. Diluc watched your face contort from surprise to disgust to pure horror as you frantically whip your head from side to side in search of something, yet finding nothing you slightly bow your head.

"(Y/N), hey, what's wrong-" he reached his hand out and under to cup your jaw and raise your face to meet his, but in a manner of time seemingly slowing down, these events happened: you opened your mouth to discard the disgusting grape to the ground when in some funny coincidence, Diluc's open hand reached out under your chin, the wet and slimey prune of a grape plopping on his palm spot-on with a sound of disgust escaping you.

When you'd open your eyes, you gasped at the sight before you. Whipping your head up, you've seen the most horrified look Diluc had ever worn as he stared straight at his hand, barely moving and breathing.

When one of the maids finally caught sight of the two children, she'd found you crying in distress as you wailed 'I broke Diluc, I broke him!' while the boy himself stood and looked just the same as you'd seen him last, still staring at the disgusting grape in his hand.

The festivities started the next day with you not by his side.

Guests were already swarming in given that the night has started its period. Crepus made sure that all of the preparations are in accordance with the party, yet he knew just how distressed and frantic his son has been acting, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

He kneels in front of Diluc, finally getting his frenzied stares to settle on him. He offers a reassuring smile. "Are you looking for her?" Diluc was bashful in being caught but nodded regardless, earning a chuckle and a hand ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, she will come."

"But what if she doesn't?" His stubborn nerves replied still with uncertainty.

"You two promised to be together, no grape can easily break that," at the mention of the incident, his son gagged and whined at the reminder, causing another robust chuckle form in his throat. When Crepus has heard of the 'incident' that transpired yesterday, he had to stop himself from wheezing to comfort his own son.

At the better reminder Diluc found himself smiling again brought upon his faith on you and Crepus sighed in relief. That was when they heard a familiar voice shout from the distance.

Your little form broke through the crowd that had obscured your form, dressed up in a simple red chiffon dress and a massive white bow that holds as a belt. Crepus stepped to the side so you could approach the birthday boy yourself, presenting the red box in your hand with a trembling grip, you stood with nerve-wracking composure they've never seen you don before. "H-Happy birthday, Diluc! I uhm I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday, I really am! So I- so I bought you some gloves, so you'll never have to worry about your hands next time."

Crepus quirked an amused eyebrow at the 'next time' as he watches his son take upon the gift and opening it immediately, inside was a simple pair of white gloves with gold lines across its back and a pop button to keep it in place. When he fitted it, it was just the right size and fit his normal attire perfectly.

You watched him warily when you finally met eyes, opening your mouth to ask if he had liked it— when you were suddenly met by a hug, his fluffed up hair almost covering half of your hair. "Thank you, I like it. But you're late..." you laughed in relief as you squeezed him so tight, saying you were sorry with a giggle.

Diluc's father then watched on with a smile as the two of you held hands, disappearing in the sea of guests to mingle and admire the decorations they had put on for his birthday. At least, this time, he didn't have to worry that his son felt alone.

Your reckless imprudence and its adverse karma took a lot longer to manifest than anyone had expected. But it came with a paradoxical event both good and evil when you and Diluc were aged 10.

It was a rare occasion that it was Diluc who was visiting you (instead of the other way around) in Mondstadt's walled city. His father had the tavern to tend to that day and had entrusted Diluc's presence to you, the one who had been roaming the city for about two years now.

In your excitement and his cluelessness, you dragged your friend around the city for an impromptu tour guide. The cathedral, the statue, the HQ of Ordo Favonius; you exhausted him all the way as you somehow managed to find your way past the bridge and into the lush greenery of the outside of the walled city. He needed a breather, and you found the fresh air and quiet to be just the perfect spot.

The sound of rushing water in the distance helped as white noise for your relaxation, as you both stared up in the clear sky together, occasionally pointing at objectified clouds. At some point, Diluc had closed his eyes when the faint breeze urged him to rest more and he gave in just as easily.

The sound of your light musings grounded him just the same, together with the flowing stream and the distant pitter patter against the grass... pitter patter?

"DILUC, WATCH OUT-!" A force came bouldering against his side as he cried out in pain and shock, barreling against the grassland as he unceremoniously tumbles with the perpetrator. He snapped his eyes wide open and sat up quickly to look at what had come to your area—

And you laid there next to him, remnants of frost littering your clothes and climbing up your skin. As Diluc gathered you up in his arms, he felt the sting of the cold as he pulled your trembling form against his chest. At his peripheral he distinguished a few cryo slimes a few feet away, where he sees the dent on the grass he once laid on just moments prior.

"(Y/N)- (Y/N)! No, nonono stay with me, you're okay, please tell me you are," his body wracked in suppressed sobs as you desperately clung to his warmth. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pain as your teeth clatter and whimper from frostbite. He squeezed and pulled you closer up to his chest, desperately hoping the ice would melt before it engulfed you whole.

His gloved hands gripped at your back when he locked eyes with the slimes, watching them slowly advance to the both of you and he watched helplessly without any weapon at his arsenal to protect you two.

For the first time in his life, Diluc felt utterly useless and helpless at the face of looming death. And he prayed with eyes shut, to any Gods that spared him an ear, to give them divine intervention to help you two. To pray that there was something he can do, to pray that if only he was stronger—

And his world turned red around him.

Frost melted.

Grass charred.

Slimes dissipated.

In front of him a Vision was born.

...

A year and a half after that ordeal, you find yourself in the dimly lit hallways of Dawn Winery.

Diluc had expressed his intention to join the Knights of Favonius a day after he received his Vision, with a resolve you've never seen him wear before. He looked at you with longing yet courage of another promise, when you came to the same day. Ever since then, your visits became scarce and your play time had lessened, as you were left to watch him train in every hour of his day with either his father or one of the adept guards of the Winery.

You've never thought you'd wish to be able to wield a sword greatly to par that of a knight, if only to be trusted enough to wield the weapon against him in the guise of training. Ever since that incident everyone had treated you with utmost care and gentleness, even your dearest friend who had always gone along with your reckless spurs of action.

Today you were hoping to catch him on a day off from his sessions but it seems awfully quiet this time around and you were left to ponder with your thoughts as no one came to aid you with answers. You would press your ear against the numerous doors, linger to hear anyone, and then moved on to another if you come out empty-handed.

You were on your way to the last door of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You whipped your head in the thought that you had found your person of interest—

"What are you doing here?" But instead of the fiery red you were seeking for, you met a cold blue gaze that carried hidden hostility and confusion. You blinked at him as he did at you, an agonizing second passing with silence, and he opens his mouth once more to ask.

"I like your eyepatch!"

Somehow, you seem to have a knack on making people stutter on your first meetings.

Kaeya was no exception.

I didn't expect this to end with a cliffhanger holy shit, I loved writing this so much but I got caught up with so many other works and— it just became too long to continue...

Part 2 tomorrow midnight once again!

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #genshin impact diluc #diluc #diluc x reader #fluffers #happy feelings #calm before the storm typo shit #Bonafide Specials #exile.pocketwatch

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theseerasures · 4 years ago

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For the meta thing, how about big sisters with absent mothers: Winter and Yang? Like, how they dealt with things differently and what a friendship between them would look like

anon i just want you to know that as soon as received this ask i barged into my girlfriend’s room to be like “is this you???” because this ask is so EXQUISITELY tailored to my personal interests that i was like “literally who else would cater to me like this” and it was not her, apparently!!! so thank you very much for this ask.

of course i have SO MANY thoughts about this topic that it took me a complete month to marshal them into something faintly coherent, if staggeringly long, so. i hope it’s worth the wait.

S(chnee)-side: how to lose brothers and alienate sisters

let’s start from some well-trodden ground: the season 5 character shorts, and their subsequent caricaturization via Chibi, which posit the Yang vs. Winter dichotomy as something like “Yang loves Ruby by diving into a monster’s mouth for her, and telling her she always has her back, and Winter does the same for Weiss by...siccing monsters on her, and telling her that she won’t always be around to save her from them.” much hay has already been made about the reasons why the two of them would act in the ways they did, so for the purposes of my own meta i’m going to skip over those, and concentrate on how content since season 5 has updated these conceptions.

and on Winter’s end of things, these conceptions have been updated by showing that she’s, uh.

...full of shit.

we’ve now had TWO instances of Winter going above and beyond to protect someone vulnerable. the first time was for Penny, with whom she has a sisterly bond, and the second time was for Ren, with whom she has...exchanged a few lines of dialogue. if she’s so ready and willing to hurl herself bodily into the path of an aggressor for someone who is basically a stranger, then why all the pageantry with Weiss about how she can’t (or won’t) save her? did she carve some kind of blood relative exemption into her saving people thing? does it only apply to people who wear a lot of green?¹

to properly address this question--and to bring in the Willow of it all--i think we should step back and ask: how does Winter actually feel about the Schnee name?

not Jacques’ name, mind. nor anything he did to besmirch it. Willow’s name, and Winter’s birthright.

because what has always been interesting to me is that while Weiss has talked about reclaiming or rehabilitating the Schnee name from their father’s meddling and still clearly wants to reconcile herself with it, even after being disinherited, Winter has only ever talked about distancing. it’s entirely possible that she had similar aspirations when she was around Weiss’ age and was just more thoroughly disabused of them, but my point stands: Winter shows a discomfort with the Schnee name overall in a way that Weiss has yet to. you don’t have to look any further than Winter’s combat style to see how this discomfort is telegraphed, as she barely uses any Dust, or Glyphs, and the one aspect of her Semblance that she does use and tout are Summons, which just so happens to be the part that emphasizes her own individual ability to conquer foes. something about the Schnee name feels irreconcilably tainted for Winter,² and while i’m sure a large part of it has to do with her father, who can make her explode into emotion confetti by just being in the same room as her for thirty seconds, a not-insignificant part can probably be chalked up to the fact that...

Willow Schnee was probably never all that good a mother.

granted: we’ve have exactly one scene (two if you count the 8.2 sneak peek) with her, so i’m fully ready to be called Boo Boo the Fool if we get a flashback and Willow was some kind of crusading super-mom prior to her descent into alcoholism, but. the idea that she hasn’t ALWAYS had to compromise herself and her children just to get by feels facile. this is not to victim blame, but to say that Willow is an imperfect person (in that she is. a person) placed into a horrific situation, which means that she could not always deal with the situation perfectly. it’s important to remember her agency--both before and after she became an alcoholic--but it’s just as important not to idealize it into something it’s not. Willow was by no means a co-abuser to her children, but she was probably always inconsistent, because living with your abuser for years on end does that to you. personally, i’ve always envisioned pre-alcoholism Willow as...well-meaning and much more perceptive and intelligent than people give her credit for, but beset with her own flaws that grew in proportion to her hurt and bitterness. she was capable of shielding her children from her husband’s worst excesses, and often did; but she was just as capable of retreating when she might have fought, of excusing Jacques’ actions to try to keep the peace, even of lashing out at those who shouldn’t have to handle her negative emotions.

her descent into alcoholism exacerbated these tendencies, but Willow has always been a complicated woman, and the idea that there was a prelapsarian time when Willow was an unmitigated good, before...idk, her Good battery ran out and she became Drunk Victim Non-Mom, is...well, it’s definitely something that a ten-year-old who had an ENORMOUSLY traumatic birthday would believe (and blame herself for), but Winter might disagree. i don’t think her view would be any more objective, if only because the day Winter Schnee has an un-myopic thought is the day i pass gracefully into the West, but her view is probably more complicated and less flattering, because Winter knew her mother more as a person, and that’s something we’re gonna talk about more with Yang and Ruby, later.

the point i want to make now, with Winter, is that her determined inconstancy, where she’ll readily jump into the jaws of a monster for her siblings in one breath and berate them and caution them against needing her in the next--that comes from her experience with Willow. the lesson she wants her siblings to learn is not just “the people who are supposed to love you are cruel, so get a helmet,” but “the people who are supposed to love you disappoint you, which is worse, so it’s better to not rely on them at all.”³ better for them to learn it from her than firsthand, but also--better for herself, because when she does disappoint them (and she did. she left.) at least she can take comfort in the fact that surely it doesn’t hurt as much; she warned them, after all.

in Winter’s mind, this kind of disappointment is an inevitability, so what’s paramount is to make sure that when it does happen her siblings are at least prepared for it. in the face of that the fact that she would actually risk life and limb to help them if they ever need it falls to the wayside; i don’t think it was a mindful decision that Winter consciously made--like, i don’t think she ever thought “i’m going to withhold the fact that i would die for them because that would contradict the whole social Darwinism thing i’m trying to drill into their heads,” because Winter’s just...not that kind of deliberate rational actor, in any arena. rather--and maybe even more damning--i think she just assumes that Weiss and Whitley already KNOW, that it’s a given for them the sacrifices she’d make for them in the same way it’s a given for her. but they don’t! because you have to say these things, and Winter has been force-feeding them the precise opposite.

ultimately all of these contradictory impulses stem from Winter’s deep-seated need for control--both of herself, and of the environments around her, and those in turn come from the fact that she was a) repeatedly wounded as a child and b) had to shoulder responsibilities far beyond her own ability as that same child, which...continues to this day. from this perspective, what matters is less keeping her siblings safe, and more her own ability to save them. she knows that’s imperfect, so she compensates by enforcing what worked for her onto them, and also by keeping them away from anything that could harm them, without their input. i never thought much of the contrast in environments for the character shorts--like of course Weiss would spar with Winter’s Summons at home like the untested shut-in she was--but what did take me aback was that in season 7, after Weiss has waltzed across an entire continent and been promoted to a full Huntress, Winter...still exclusively trains Weiss with her Summons up in Atlas, while Ruby and Yang are traipsing across Mantle killing ACTUAL Grimm. i have no doubt that this was for foreshadowing reasons, but still: it points to the fact that for all Winter loves Weiss and would fight giant monsters for her, there’s a part of her that...doesn’t trust Weiss, and wants to maintain control over her.⁴

this, i think, is part of the reason why Whitley treats her basically like an un-person: it’s not just that she left when he was too young and Jacques filled in all the gaps with lies and slander, it’s also that even when Winter was around the bigger age gap made it much easier for her to reconcile keeping him out of the loop, for his own good. she can’t ever be vulnerable around either of her siblings, but especially not Whitley, because he’s too young; he might let something slip when they’re around Jacques, and she shouldn’t be putting that kind of burden on him anyway. if he resents her when she’s just trying to protect him--except you said that you wouldn’t, Winter you absolute moron--then that’s his prerogative. it doesn’t change her own responsibilities. they can be miserable and Byronic in their own separate cubby holes and it’s fine.

(it’s not fine.)

R(ose)⁵-side: tonight, the role of Replacement Goldfish will be played by...everyone

let’s get one thing out of the way: Yang is a GOOD big sister, and some of the ways that she is good can be chalked up to the fact that she had a better home life, but only some. her character short ends with her promising Ruby that she’ll always have her back after spending the short proving it, and she has--until recently, and we’ll get to that--lived up to it. people get caught up on how much time Yang spends with Blake nowadays, but it’s important to remember that the entire impetus for Yang reuniting with anyone during the Mistral arc was about Ruby. so is the thing that separates a Yang from a Winter is that a Yang preaches what she practices, and isn’t firing a million zillion mixed signals at all times?

well--yeah, basically, but we’re gonna make a big thing out of it anyway.

what made Yang and Ruby different from the Schnees--even before the character shorts--was a sense of parity. in contrast to Winter insisting on maintaining a) the most unapproachable facade in the world, and b) a death-grip on every situation at all times, Yang was characterized from the outset as...chill (ironically). despite her Semblance being LITERALLY hotheadedness, Yang’s passionate energy never manifested in any real desire to take charge. the fact that she was fine (even happy!) with Ruby being bumped up to her year and then becoming leader speaks volumes to how much Yang trusts and respects Ruby’s judgement. rather than try to mask her flaws, she exudes this kind of...radiant fallibility and lets Ruby take care of her, or keep her in line. they complement each other: Yang takes care of more grounded concerns like individual fights and making friends, while Ruby--again, until recently--set more abstract goals and gave them moral direction.

a lot of this can be attributed to the smaller age gap, but i think it also comes from growing up as two motherless free-range children on an island--and the motherlessness is obviously a huge deal for both of them. when i started writing this i honestly thought i’d talk more about Raven, since she’s the mom who’s actually a character already, and her absence plays a huge role in how Yang deals with her abandonment issues in the present, but to be honest: the loss that cut the deepest for Ruby AND Yang is Summer, because Summer was actually around enough to be lost. despite the show frequently dividing custody of Team STRQ right down the middle between Ruby and Yang, where Ruby “gets” Summer and Qrow and Yang “gets” Tai and Raven, it’s the admixture of Rose and Branwen that makes the two of them who they are.⁶ Yang spent more time with Summer, but Ruby spends more time with Qrow, who is Yang’s blood uncle, so the dichotomy between nature and nurture is fascinatingly blurred.

i know this is an unpopular opinion, but i hope Summer really is dead, because the ways that her daughters interpellate their own identities from her absence drives so much of the story. that SUMMER was the first mother Yang lost--not Raven, because Yang didn’t even know about Raven until Summer died--is what shapes her relationship with Ruby, but also her relationship with Raven. what’s always simmering just below the surface of any Yang-Raven confrontation is that the person Yang actually wanted to find the whole time she was looking for Raven was Summer, because she wanted a mom, and a mom looked like Summer. Raven’s not stupid--it might be her one redeeming quality--so it’s likely that she’s always known and resented this. it’s not an accident that the moment Yang stopped looking for Raven for Raven and started looking for her for an easy conduit to her real family was the moment she actually found Raven.⁷ it was the first step to Yang outgrowing her old habits, of waiting for a mother to return--a classic “she needed a hero so that’s what she hurdy blah”

in a way that’s what she’s been doing this whole time. in contrast to Winter, who compensated for her mother’s flaws by ratifying them into universal law, Yang did the same by defying their supposed truth: people might leave her, but she won’t leave Ruby, and Ruby won’t leave her. it’s telling that whenever Yang leaves--even as a literal child--she always took Ruby with her, even if she planned on coming back. (it’s just as telling that when Winter left she didn’t.) she’ll always be there for Ruby, to give her the boost she needs to become the Summer they all want her to be, which means being a little of Summer herself--the part of Summer that baked cookies and slew monsters. and in return Ruby gave her...a sense of certainty, i think: that Ruby needs her and therefore won’t leave, but also that Ruby has the parts of Summer that Yang can’t muster herself--the grand heroic ideal, the moral certitude, etc.

...and now we’re finally gonna talk about the Schism, which i honestly think is the best thing that has happened to their relationship, development-wise. by the end of the Mistral arc Yang has arrived at a healthier perspective with respect to her relationships with everyone: now it’s not about indiscriminately giving herself away to people in the hopes that they might not leave her, but about choosing to give herself away to the people she loves and trusts. on one level this should not conflict with her relationship with Ruby at all, because Yang loves Ruby, but on another...the fact that Yang no longer feels obligated to perform unending support, to be the grounded complement, to fill in the parts of Summer that Ruby can’t--of COURSE that’s going to bring about conflict. because it turns out Yang never needed Ruby to give her direction or discipline. she’s now had time to think of the things she herself values, and those...don’t exactly match up with Ruby’s--or Summer’s.⁸ Yang, having known Summer as a mother, having been confronted repeatedly with the fallibility of mothers, is starting to outgrow Summer, and grow separately from Ruby.

but growing separately doesn’t have to mean growing apart, and i think Yang, at least, knows this. she clearly feels Some Kinda Way about their disagreement (and Blake’s implicit alignment with Ruby), but she’s also confident enough in her own beliefs by this point to commit to them. Yang’s taking charge instead of deferring to Ruby, and it turns out that...she’s actually not a bad leader herself, since she and Jaune have pretty much split a lot of those responsibilities. for her it’s not a question of losing faith or love in Ruby as a person, but about discovering what she herself fights for.

Ruby...sees it differently, because Ruby sees Summer differently. if Yang has always defined herself against Summer by deciding that she can NEVER fully be Summer, so she’ll make do with what she can, then Ruby’s always defined herself against Summer by marking Summer as the endpoint of her personal trajectory. what Ruby knows of Summer--that she was a person who enjoyed life and did not believe in original sin, that had a magical special destiny that was totally fine and awesome and didn’t drive her to her death, that she was a baker of cookies and slayer of monsters--is what Tai and Qrow--and Yang--told her about Summer, because Ruby was too young to remember the real Summer. so Summer for her is this abstract paragon to live up to, and no more. she can’t possibly exceed Summer, because the Summer Ruby knows encompasses literally all that is good.

when Yang tells Ruby “i’ve always got your back” in the short, a lot of it is about Yang, and the ways Yang needed to be there for other people so they’ll be there for her in return. but it’s also something Ruby really needed to hear, because Ruby needed the security and comfort of knowing that even if she screws up there are people around her who can help shoulder the burden. that security already took a serious hit after Yang lost her arm, but Ruby, kind and generous person that she is, was able to reconcile with that, because YANG HAD JUST LOST HER ARM. it would be ridiculous to expect Yang to have her back the way she used to, and besides--it was time she grew up, and growing up means becoming more like Summer, all of Summer, by herself.

and...she gets pretty far, is the thing, because Ruby IS a lot like Summer, and is incredible and amazing all by herself to boot, but the point is that no one should feel this much pressure to be All That Is Good, especially when you’re a teen. Ruby’s not ready to recognize that, partly because at this point so many people are looking to her for leadership, but also because being Summer’s heir is the only real link she has to her mom.⁹ so she hunkers down and does the best she can, in a situation that has far spiraled beyond anybody’s control...and then Yang tells her that it’s not working out, that this time it’s not that she can’t have Ruby’s back, but that she won’t. in Ruby’s mind, this could only mean one of two things: either Yang no longer believes what Ruby believes--what Summer believed, or...Yang no longer believes in Ruby, because she wasn’t good enough.

and well. it’s Ruby. it’s not hard to guess which reason she’s picking right now, especially since she pretty conspicuously refused to call the shots during the Amity heist.

but this is of course a false dichotomy. it’s not about which one of them is right, or even more right, and the show does a very good job with the framing to show that both of them have a point. similarly, what Ruby needs right now is neither confirmation that her long-held beliefs are objectively the best ones, nor that she is good enough to become Summer after all. no; what she needs instead is the knowledge that she’s allowed to fuck up, to deviate from what people have told her about Summer, to become what Summer never was. that’s something Yang can--and will--help her work out.

oh no this analogy is breaking apart: how they’d get along

...oi.

look, even beyond the fact that Winter doesn’t get along with ANYONE over much, i don’t think there’s any universe where she wouldn’t immediately rub Yang the wrong way. not only because Winter’d initially treat Ruby with the same cold tyranny that she (up until very recently) treats Weiss, but also because Yang’s partner is Blake, and--to say nothing of Atlas/Schnee-on-Faunus oppression--she was personally made collateral during the fallout with Blake’s abuser.¹⁰ i myself wouldn’t say that Winter abused Weiss, but to Yang’s protective and skewed view...

well, can you imagine Weiss trying to explain the way Winter ~~~trained her to the Bees? “oh, she sent a pack of Beowolves to hunt me! it was a meant-to-lose fight and when i started doing well she just moved the goalposts. one of her wolves almost ate me before i begged her to stop but it...probably...wouldn’t have...it was fine! my Aura didn’t dip THAT much. Winter’s the best!!” Yang’s hair would have been on fire after the first sentence, is all i’m saying. this coupled with the fact that Yang would very likely view Winter leaving Weiss and Whitley through the lens of Raven doing the same thing to her, and i think it would take a pretty long time for the two of them to see eye to eye on anything.

which is not to say that they have nowhere to go but antagonism, because at their cores Winter and Yang both have a) no hesitation whatsoever when it comes to protecting the people they care about and b) a tendency to define protection literally, often bodily. the difference is that Yang’s Semblance weaponizes these protective instincts for her, and she learned the limits of taking that too far. Winter...doesn’t, and hasn’t.¹¹ that COULD lead to some interesting conversations, but i don’t think Yang has quite the emotional clarity and generosity to reckon with that yet, and they’re not about to talk about it inside the Giant Whale.

a necessary part of Winter’s development is learning to respect the people around her instead of instantly categorizing them into boxes labeled “to fight” and “to protect and order around.” her friction with Yang could be an intriguing way to explore that; i have no doubt, for example, that Winter would have hurled herself between Elm and Yang just as readily as she had between Elm and Ren. similarly, i think if Winter ever were in the same room with both Raven and Yang she’d last about ten seconds before trying to rip Raven’s hair out with her teeth, because Raven is neglectful and casually demeaning in ways that are instantly recognizable to Winter (in the same way they were to Weiss).¹² the issue is that her doing any of these things for Yang--y’know, the same Yang who IMMEDIATELY gave Blake the cold shoulder when she tried to pull the whole “i’ll protect you” crap--is that she would only find it confusing and frustrating, and likely wouldn’t mince words expressing that.

Yang’s a big sister herself, and therefore knows all the big sister tricks, and Yang has a consistent pattern of not wanting to rely on other people, particularly people she sees as adults. so the best path toward a Winter and Yang friendship is probably not the head-on approach, but obliquely through someone else. that someone else can’t be Weiss, because Yang would be already hypervigilant about the way Winter treats Weiss--but it could be Ruby. even putting aside the fact that she is now one of the most important people in the world for BOTH her sisters, Ruby herself is very easy to love, and Winter loves very easily, despite herself. what they have in common--idealism and a martyr complex--would also engender some cool interactions, and Ruby would let Winter take care of her, if only to make Winter feel better.

i could see that being the impetus for Yang tentatively, grudgingly forming her own friendship with Winter, because there ARE things that Winter can give Yang, even if Yang can’t (or won’t) admit she wants them. it’s nice to try out being the kid sister, once in a while.

still, even if they get that far: i can’t imagine their relationship as anything friendlier than this.

¹ tbh neither would actually surprise me; what Winter does and doesn’t let herself do is only knowable to the Gods Who Have Forsaken This Land, and they’re certainly unknowable to Winter herself.

² maybe she knows that the whole “the Schnees were up-from-bootstraps-good-capitalists until that guy Jacques came along” thing is stupid!! i don’t care that he’s Santa Nicholas Schnee ain’t shit

³ this i think is why the current thing with Ironwood is such a bitter pill to swallow, because...she thought she’d been so careful. not in thinking that she’d chosen a man who couldn’t disappoint her, but in caring so deeply about him and investing so much of herself into him, despite the fact she’s only ever let herself call him “sir,” or “General.”

⁴ though i will say, to give Winter some credit: she actually accepts the fact that her sister is totally her own person now with a lot more aplomb than i’d expected, both in the “you stole an airship” scene and during all of Sparks. i wouldn’t be so generous as to read subtle treason into her disclosure of Ironwood’s Winter Maiden plans, but it does point to Winter’s desire for control being much more easily unlearned than that of her boss.

⁵ geddit? it’s a joke about handed-ness because now they both have the Hand Tremor

⁶ Tai is, as always and on purpose, the stabilizing agent. “appropriately underwhelming,” as Winter might put it, but absolutely essential.

⁷ of course then Raven had the gall to resent THAT too, because she’s the worst, and...see above, about Winter Schnee’s self-unknowing.

⁸ curiously, the values that Yang most espouses now--the importance of knowing what you’re getting into, protecting what is tangible, what is within your ability--are a) hard-won from years of taking care of Ruby and b) ones that she shares with Raven. the only difference is that Yang’s circle of protection extends far beyond Raven’s, which only includes herself.

⁹ weirdly enough the best person to talk to Ruby about this might be Raven, who has a very skewed perception of Summer herself (because Raven’s perception of EVERYONE is generally fucked up), but probably won’t hold back when talking about Summer’s flaws. Ruby won’t want to hear any of it, but i think she needs to.

¹⁰ i do think Blake and Winter would have some interesting conversations, if Blake ever...was generous enough to deal with *gestures at all of Winter.* it’s easier to compare Blake to Willow given the shared nature of their interpersonal abuse, but Winter on the other hand knows what it’s like to be hand-picked and groomed by a charismatic man with a singular vision who ended up wholly compromising that vision for the sake of their personal ego. that the White Fang are a good force perverted while the Atlesian Military is rotten to the core would...make the conversation more lively? it’s probably fine?

¹¹ “i’m Winter Schnee and i have maladaptive coping mechanisms that i am currently clinging to, as a maladaptive coping mechanism”

¹² though there...probably IS a world where Raven and Winter end up getting along after the initial skirmish, and it disturbs Yang and Qrow to no end

#Anonymous #yang xiao long #winter schnee #rwby #tl;dr they both play vanguard when they play mass effect #helen writes meta

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lambda-complex · 3 years ago

Photo

Some sketchbook doodles of some of my characters! These are some lads I've had in my head for a little while now- a few of which have pages over on my toyhouse.

Premise of the world & some character descriptions under the cut!

(Bear in mind all the toyhouse pages are WIPs and some have super old info / refs on them that are pretty out of date.)

The basic premise of their world is that rifts have been opening up across time all over the world and dragging things in, bringing them to a realm outside our own. This new realm is similar to Earth, with the exception of different continents and the giant rift in reality splitting the world in half. Everything near the rift is barren and occasionally unnatural creatures will claw their way out of it and attack anyone unlucky enough to be living nearby. These creatures are attracted to large concentrations of people, so most population centers have been built as far from the rift as possible, with those unlucky enough to be refused entry living in small communities.

In order of arrival to the realm we have the following:

MouthEye (Usually referred to as ME)

A void creature from the opposite side of the rift. The realm's most recent 'overseer' sent by the more powerful beings on the other side to keep tabs on the realm. The mortals see him as a terrifying godlike entity, however he's seen as more of a fuck up to the rest of his kind. ME has delusions of grandeur and aims to rule the realm, eventually pushing forward through the tears they open up and take over Earth. His higher-ups like to keep a close eye on him, waiting for him to fuck up so they can replace him with someone better equipped to do the job.

Doc / Sawbones / 'The Good Doctor'

Another creature from the other side of the rift. Broke off from his people to live in relative peace- not necessarily a 'good' guy, more chaotic neutral. Has the ability to speak through radios, very rarely speaking with his mouth as it tends to drive mortals mad. Acts as an apothecary owner in the middle of nowhere that hands out strange cure-alls to those who seek him out. As bizarre as his treatments are, they always seem to work perfectly without explanation. Has a tendency to eat the odd traveler or two if they come by him by chance instead of seeking him out. Oddly good friends with Sigurd, whom he treated to fix the void infection that was taking hold in his fingers.

The Knight

Nobody knows who or what The Knight is, nor how long they've been roaming the wastelands babbling jibberish to themselves. Unbeknownst to most, The Knight is comprised of a house of nobles from an unknown period who were merged into one upon their house being absorbed by the rift. They always give a different answer whenever anyone asks their name, and each member of the household can take over the body at any one time. Nobody knows what The Knight looks like under the helmet- at least none that have survived.

Sigurd

Having lived in the new realm for many years, Sigurd has picked up the basics of survival deep in the wasteland as well as a knack for scavenging and repairing lost things that land there. The proud owner of a thrown together jeep and Spas-12 shotgun, Sigurd is a bombastic and eccentric character, who has a particular fondness for Rex's animals. Sigurd had two of the fingers on his left hand taken off by a void creature, but was saved from infection by one of Doc’s cure-alls.

William 'Rex' Jameson

Rex has a few years experience in the realm- enough to survive in the area just outside the wasteland. Softspoken and kindhearted, Rex has a love for paleontology and a knack for necromancy, resulting in his menagerie of undead dinosaurs that he keeps on his farm. Julep was the first, a microraptor with perhaps one braincell- two on a good day. She tends to try to eat anything she can get her claws on, usually without much success. Another is Atlas, an achillobator with a personality akin to a giant, mischievous cat.

Charles Palmer

Originally a highwayman on the run back on Earth with a distinct love for the stars, Charles paid to be taken in by a pirate ship by the name of the Dreadnought and ferried to another country to escape the law. On the journey they were caught up to by the British navy. During the ensuing fight he summoned ME, who fulfilled his wish of escaping somewhere the law could never catch up with him. The ship was torn apart by an unseen force, killing the crew of both the Dreadnought and the British ship. Charles woke up in the new realm, having got his wish at the cost of living in this unforgiving realm, as well as an unknown ashy infection slowly clawing its way up from his right arm.

Bristol ‘Shanty’ Foxwhelp

Bristol was a crew member on the Dreadnought, alongside his partner Arthur ‘Bluejay’ Calvary and their pet one-eyed iguana Angus. The two barely survived the onslaught brought on by Charles’ deal, struggling to keep the ship afloat in the aftermath of the attack. The Dreadnought ended up being pulled through the rift, hurtling through the sky and landing in the wasteland. Arthur was injured in the crash, leaving Bristol to travel in search of help. It turned out the two arrived in the realm much later than Charles had due to the distortion of time- by the time Bristol met with him and Rex, he had been living there for months. The group returned to the Dreadnought to find the entire ship in pieces and Arthur missing. Bristol is usually fun-loving and outgoing, often the life of the party alongside Sigurd. The two are unlikely friends due to their seafaring nature. He isn’t yet aware that Charles is the reason for the Dreadnought’s crash- finding out the companion he’s been travelling with was the cause for his partner’s supposed death would destroy him.

#triggerhappyart #oc #ocs #moutheye #the good doctor #the knight #sigurd #william jameson #charles palmer #bristol foxwhelp #no idea what i'm calling this story / world just yet but the working title has been 'convergence' for a while so guess i'm going with that #convergence

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

Text

Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now.

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?”

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said.

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has.

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.”

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes.

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Precious Time and Little Lies

Pairing: yandere Xander x reader

Description: Once, when he was a different man, you had loved him. But now, Xander was a manipulative, terrifying monster of his former self, one you had no qualms running away from when the time came. However, you doubted how much he adored you-- and the atrocities he would commit to getting you back by his side.

Rating: sfw

Word Count:

Content Warnings: general yandere behavior, emotional manipulations, mentions of blood

Notes: Another commission for the ever so lovely @modern-zervis-lovemail! In addition, a friends helped me beta this one too, so thank you to @khaenruin for helping me figure this hot mess out. Also would you believe me if I told you I was listening to Kakusei from Promare the entire 5ish hours in total it took me to write this? Because why would I lie about that...

~*~

Today shouldn’t be a day spent on the battlefield. But fate had other plans for you, devious ones that wouldn’t be undone so easily. How long had you been running, escaping his grasp only to find yourself in the midst of his bloody desires? Xander may not be king of Nohr yet but defying still met certain death; or, it would have, had the crown prince of Nohr not held an unhealthy obsession for you…

In better times, kinder, gentler ones, you might have relished in his affection, may have even returned it and been something… more with him. But there was no going back on this choice. Not after you had seen the lengths he would go through for you… that he still continues to do. You can’t think about the lives tolling up in your wake because of him-- that’s just what he wants, for you to think this was all your fault, to break down and lean to him for support. To trap you in his grasp and cradle you there, coddling you and fooling you into thinking he wasn’t a monster with his sweet smiles… You wouldn’t fall for it any more.

Today was the Day of Devotion. You knew, he would be more motivated than ever to find you. You could hear his words now, feel them plaguing your very skull; how sweet it would be, to be reunited on the Day of Devotion. It was sickening. But you had to had to remain strong, Graciously, the Hoshidian’s had allowed you refuge in their country, even letting you travel with their army for a short amount of time to Cyrkensia, where you would hopefully be able to flee the continent altogether, right under Xander’s nose no less. Azura’s performance would be the perfect distraction for you. The fight that would inevitable follow was merely a bonus.

“I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to travel with you this far.” You turn to Corrin and Princess Sakura, as well as Prince Takumi, and bow your head. “I wish I could help you further, but even my mere presence here now is a danger to you all.” Corrin shakes his head, while Takumi just huffs.

“The information you provided is has been immensely helpful. It’s thanks to you we even know Xander will be here today. We can be prepared because of that.” Corrin offers you a small smile, which you return with one of your own.

“You’re absolutely sure they’ll be there?” Takumi isn’t as convinced. For the few days you’ve been here, he’s been on his tiptoes around you; you can’t blame him for his behavior, though.

“Positive. King Garon loves the shows here and…” You heave a sigh, shaking your head. “...had I still been by his side, this would have been the day Xander proposed.”

“Goodness, really?” Sakura gasped. “In front of all these people? How do you even know?” Her face is flush from the mere thought.

“It was the day he wanted to go public with it. We… were engaged far before that. He knew I couldn’t deny him in a front of a crowd of people who adored him…” You clenched your fist tightly.

“Xander…” Corrin looks troubled. Xander was his older brother, after all. The rejection of his younger brother, and now you, his beloved fiancee… Perhaps there was an explanation for his behavior but never an excuse. “I’m sorry this all happened to you _____, I can’t help but feel part of this is somehow my fault.”

“Corrin…” You sigh softly. “It’s no ones fault but Xander’s own. We made our choices, and though they were in opposition to him, they were ours to make.” You take his hand in yours, surprising him before you continue. “But if we fault in the paths we’ve taken, everyone, from the people in your army to Xander himself, will suffer for it. Stay strong.” With one last squeeze of his hand you drop it.

“...Right.” He nods, and you can see him steeling himself. “Today, we’ll end this…”

“The shows about to start, we should hurry.” Takumi sends a look to you over his shoulder, ushering his siblings closer.

“Stay safe everyone. I believe in you.” You send one more smile Corrin’s way before heading off on your own to the ports. If things went okay, they would be able to defeat Garon, and maybe even stop Xander…

You knew little about the world outside of Nohr, Hoshido, or even Nestra, but anything was better than the war that countries faced and the terror that followed you here. It wouldn’t be easy start anew in a foreign place… “You should catch a nice price though…” From your pocket, you produced a ring; casted in white gold, and gilded in the finest of amethyst, any woman would have been proud to where it on their finger. But these engagement ring would be a new start for you in a different way.

“…You kept it?” You gasp and snatch the ring close to yourself, surprised to find yourself cornered by none other than Xander himself.

“W-what? How did you…” Your words died on you tongue as he approached you. You were frozen in place, malleable to his touch as he carefully opened your hand and once more slipped the engagement ring on your right ring finger. His silence, and the lack of any signs on anger on his part made you apprehensive.

“Why did you have to leave me?” He held your shoulders, preventing your escape. His ruby gaze was inescapable, his apparent sorrow scalding.

“Why?” You frown, willing yourself not to fall for his tricks. “Look at you! You’ve become a puppet of your fathers will, Xander!” You wrench yourself free from his grasp, surprising yourself. “Once you were a kind prince, someone the people looked up to; someone who I looked up to.” You take a step but to distance yourself from him. “But you’re just as mad as him now. You’ve taken away my rights, treated me like a child, chased me down the realm and back, and for what? Will you drag me back to your side? Will you prove yourself the craven beast I know you to be?” You glared up at him now, trying your best to read his mood, to not be affected by the hurt you saw in his eyes. He had already done far worse to you.

“Who has fed you these lies, dearest?” Xander approaches you, finally acting on his desire, lies spilling forth from his lips as he stocked towards you. “Who has fed you this poison, that you are so freighted by me even my face before you has you trembling?” You hadn’t even noticed it before, but you were; your hands were shaking and the familiar feeling of adrenaline was beginning to course though your veins. Fight or flight was beginning to over take your mind as he merely got closer, spoke a little more softer to you. “Won’t you tell me who I need take care of?” He got close enough to caress your cheek with his gauntlet only for you to flinch away from his touch. He faltered, if only for a moment.

“You’re too blind to realize it was you yourself who led me to this. I would sooner forsake my homeland and take up arms with the Hoshidian’s than return to your side once more!” You tried to be fierce, to show Xander you weren’t afraid of him. “I won’t go with you.” He was frowning now, lurching forward and taking your arm in a gasp that wouldn’t easily be shaken off.

“Why don’t I take you to see the show? To see what happens to traitors.” His voice was even, his face turning dark as you tried to struggle. His grip was bruising, and you were willing to cause a scene.

“Corrin is your brother!” You argue. “Why are you willing to show lenience to me and not him?” You cry. His shock is enough for him to drop you. You pull back dramatically, gently rubbing the spot on your forearm where he caught you.

“You’ve yet to totally betray me.” His eyes linger on the ring you let him replace on your finger. You hold it protectively to your chest.

“That’s… this is different.” You huff, scowling at him. “There’s nothing left in me that cares for you as I once did.”

“Don’t be foolish.” You yelp, looking back to find Xander’s backed you up to the a large crate near the docks. “You just listened to the same lies those rotten Hoshidian’s fed to Corrin, didn’t you?” He shakes his head softly. “I won’t let them take you from me as well _____.”

“You’ve listened to nothing I’ve said!” You cry. “Xander, stop this! Actually listen to me for once in your life!” You beg him, hands finding place on his chest.

“You must be so confused… And scared…” He sighs, as if some great sorrow was just discovered, as if you really were as scared and confused as he claimed. He was clearly delusional, at least when it came to you and your thoughts and feeling; you really had to escape him now, lest you be stuck with this man who could not see you for what you were the rest of your life.

“I’m not confused! And the only thing I’m scared of is what you’re planning to do-- Xander, Xander stop!” He takes you by the arm, as any prince and gentleman should, and begins leading you over the performance hall. “Let me go!” Though you are loud and vigorous in your attempt to not be lead away from him, the grip he has on you is stronger than anything you could put up a fight against. There isn’t hardly anyone on the streets to see you struggle against him, everyone has gone to the hall to watch Azura preform… You know once you’re in there, it’s too late for you. People will recognize you, hanging off the princes arm. And if his siblings are there, they’ll only reinforce their brothers delusions…

“Everyone’s going to be delighted I found you once more, _____. Elise is even here with us… I dare say she missed you as much as me.” He laughed softly as he lead you inside, as if you weren’t fighting like a rabid animal to be free of his hold.

“...Elise?” You stopped your struggling at her name. You couldn’t let the young Princess know just how twisted and vile her dear older brother had become in your name… if she saw you…

“Xander! _____!” As if on cue, the young girl appeared before the two of you as you entered the building. Barely, you managed to catch her in a hug as she barreled towards you. “Ohh, I missed you so much! I was so scared for you.” She looked at you with big doe eyes, and your heart beat painfully at it. So, this is how he planned to keep you in line…

“Hey sweetheart…” You gently smoothed down her hair as she snuggled into you. “I’m sorry to have worried you, I just…” You pause, looking to Xander as he frowned softly.

“Xander said you didn’t love us anymore, is that true?” Her eyes were watering. You hushed her gently, moving to sit on your knees to better be at her level.

“I could never stop loving you, you know that.” You gave her a smile, a genuine one. Elise’s innocence was something to be protected… You couldn’t let her know the true nature of your relationship with Xander. “I just… had some business to attend to before our big day here, that’s all.” You sigh softly.

“Big day!” She gaps. “Are you two--” You hush her by placing your finger over her lips, and winking.

“It’s a surprise! Don’t ruin it for anyone!” You manage a smile for her.

“Come on you two.” Xander is smiling as well. He helps you to your feet and you can’t help the looming sense of dread that lingers in you as his hands leave you. “The show is nearly over now, and father is expecting us. We’ll get to announce the news after that.” With the joy only a young girl could bring, Elise bounds over to the stairs that lead to the balcony over viewing the stage. Once alone with you, he speaks again. “You even remembered what today was, didn’t you?” You hate how… in love with you he looks. It looks genuine; it brings up old feelings you would rather forget…

“The Day of Devotion.” You frown, looking away from him as you ascend the stairs.

“Today is the day we first say I love you to one another… Was it really two years ago?” He sighs softly and you falter for a moment.

“I said that to a man you no longer are.” He’s silent as the two of you finally make it to the terrace. Elise is there, as is King Garon. You’re greeted with the usual dismissal and nod he had given you in the past; you doubt he even noticed you absence. You look past him, to the crowd gathered on the boats and docks below. You note, its not yet Azura singing… She must not have preformed yet. You can’t see any familiar faces in the crowd, so perhaps Corrin’s army is more well hidden than you thought… Maybe, there was still a chance for you to escape.

“_____…” The songstress’s words are dying in your ears as you meet Xander’s gaze. It’s nothing but tender gazes and bygone feelings that twist around in your stomach. Oh, gods above, he’s kneeling-- Elise is gasping and even Garon has shifted his attention to the two of you, an unreadable look on his face. It’s nearly too much as your stomach turns and shifts inside you. “We’ve been through so much together-- I’ve proven to you I would do anything to keep you at my side. I’ve found you at the ends of our shores, and brought you back where you belong. Please, I can’t bare to be without you-- do me the honor of being my wife, and give me the privilege of being your husband.” He’s so serious. You know you can’t refuse him. Not here, not now. But still, words hesitate to leave your mouth.

“X-xander… I…” You stumble over your words, staring down at him as he gazes adoringly at you. Faintly, you can hear someone else has begun to sing. Their voice is familiar, and even the words they’re singing… Its not until you notice Garon in pain that you gasp. “Azura!” You drop Xander’s hands, much to his dismay, and turn to watch her. Her performance is breath taking and amazingly, its affecting Garon. He looks as if he’s about to burst or something, and things quickly devolve after that.

You can hardly keep up with it; someone is telling Xander the Hoshidian’s are here, Garon is quickly taken away to recover, and Xander is gearing up for battle as Corrin and his army show themselves. Xander, though it all, looks more than angered; you can see through his crimson eyes that this is something that cannot be forgiven.

“They dare ruin our moment?” Xander won’t even let you leave his side, hoisting you up on his horse to fight before you can think twice. “I think it’s high time I show them, and you, just what happens when you betray the kingdom of Nohr.”

“Xander wait! There are still innocent people here!” You beg, gripping on to his back as he rode into battle. “Please, let them escape! It’s not as it if Corrin knew what you had planned today! It’s not worth innocent lives to try and stop them.” You beg. “You have me now. I won’t leave, I promise. I’ll marry you if it means no one gets hurt here today.” Your desperate for Corrin and his army to make their mistake. A battle where they can get away is a battle they might be able to win in the future and that means a future where you might escape Xander.

“_____, dear, had you so easily forgotten what happened when you defy me?” He sighs softly, shaking his head. “These lives I take-- the blood I shed, its all on your hands as well. Perhaps, had you stayed by my side… we wouldn’t be here today.” You hide your face in his back as you feel warm blood quickly rush over you. He’s charging straight for Corrin and the other Hoshidian royals, you know. It’s all you can do to remove yourself from the situation and try not to internalize his words. Still, you can help but wonder… would things be like this had you stayed with him, so long ago? Would there really be no blood on your hands?

#commssion #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere xander #fe fates #xander x reader #fe heroes #guess whose been going through it #me! I have!#I'm more active on the jojo blog now apologies for that #it's just been inspiring me more lately

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years ago

Text

Lilies of the Valley II

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

Chapter Two: Tears of the Virgin Mary

“In Victorian times, lily of the valley meant a “return to happiness.” In Christian legend, Eve's tears as she was expelled from the Garden of Eden turned into lily of the valley.”

Release Date: 05/22/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

YN was beginning to wonder if all Jungkook had in his closet were suits, or if that was a part of the pack uniform. It wasn’t even ten minutes after YN finished speaking to him, that the alpha stormed in threatening to tear the place down, by his side a lean figure with styled blonde hair that she recognized as the infamous Park Jimin. I should stop referring to them by their maiden names. The second Jungkook saw YN he rushed towards her, hands gripping the bars tightly. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Jimin stood off to the side, watching their interaction. As much as YN disliked them, at least they’d come to the rescue.

“Thank you for coming.”

Jungkook nodded quickly, his eyes roamed every bit of her body frantically as if to make sure she was alright. "We'll see to it that the charges against you are dropped," Jimin spoke, he sent a polite smile YN's way. The beta had a calming effect on YN because if he was here Jungkook would restrain himself - theoretically of course. The guard by the door seemed stumped, "no charges are being pressed on either of them." This caught both Jimin and Jungkook's attention as they turned toward the cop. Before either of them could say anything Rosé finally spoke, truly exasperated.

“So you were simply going to send us to the boarding house with no reason?!”

YN swore under her breath. Jungkook however flew into a rampage, heading straight for the cop. Thankfully Jimin stepped in, holding Jungkook back by his hand. “Go get your superior right now.” The tone in which Jimin spoke was far more terrifying than the look in Jungkook’s eyes. The guard nodded and hastily walked away.

“Fucking genderists.” YN heard Jimin mutter under his breath, he pulled Jungkook towards him and leaned into his chest. “Call Hobi, he’ll know what to do.” Jungkook nodded and climbed up the stairs, but not before sending YN a small smile. If it was meant to be comforting it did the opposite. YN sighed, leaning back against the wall before casting a glance at Rosé. Her eyes were filled with questions that YN didn’t know how to answer; she couldn’t even begin to try. Rosé was bound to misunderstand like everyone else or worse - pity her - YN couldn’t lose her only friend too.

"I'm sorry you had to be here for so long," Jimin was now by the cell door, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her belongings. "I believe these are yours." They'd been confiscated when the two of them had been imprisoned. YN stepped forward, thanking him as she reached for her things. Their hands brushed and YN was amazed by how soft they still were. Jimin had always been soft with her, understanding even if she was nothing but cold to them. Something flashed in his eyes but it happened so quickly YN missed it. Minutes later, Jungkook came back downstairs followed by officer Hwang. The man looked smug, as he took in the situation.

“See I knew you had an alpha. No need to lie.”

YN would've ripped his throat out right there and then if she wasn't sure Jungkook would do it for her. Instead the young alpha marched towards Jimin, lips turned down into a scowl. "They won't let them leave, not both of them." At this Jimin frowned. YN saw Rosé visibly tense when the officer got near her cell, "Your family has been called, your brother is on his way to pick you up." For some reason, Rosé's eyes filled with panic. YN wanted to question her on it, but Hwang turned to her instead.

"Unfortunately you're unregistered so you'll be taken to the boarding house after all." YN felt faint as if all the blood was being drained from her body. It was when she swayed that Rosé rushed to her side trying to reach her through the bars. "You've got to be kidding me?! It's a partial bond, she doesn't have to be registered." Jimin was now screaming at Hwang, who seemed to enjoy having riled the beta up. Hwang leaned forward as if to mock the height difference between Jimin and him. Immediately Jungkook stepped forward, a low warning growl emitting from the center of his chest.

"I don't make the rules. You can either register her or she'll be taken away. The choice is yours."

The choice was theirs because in the society in which they lived in YN would never have a choice. She stood to lose too much if they took her away, but she stood to lose much more if she accepted. YN wouldn't simply be registered as Jungkook's omega - he wasn't lead alpha, it wasn't his pack. She would become a pack omega forced to uproot her life and abide by the rules established by her mates. It wouldn't simply be under society's rules that she'd be mated but under the eyes of the law. There would be no escape, not unless another person was willing to be her mate and even then, it would be immensely looked down upon if it was even allowed.

Rosé reached through the bars and placed a hand on YN’s cheek, caressing her softly. As if trying to give her strength. The look she sent her was hopeful as if to say things will get better. YN wasn’t sure they would. Her whole life had been one unfortunate event after the other ever since presenting, this would surely be the same. Still, at least there was hope if she was claimed. The boarding house only meant certain death, either to her spirit or her physical self.

“We’ll register her.”

“You do know what that entails don’t you?”

“Don’t treat us like fools or you can kiss your career goodbye.” Jungkook was entirely in Hwang’s face, but the older man only laughed.

“Whatever you say boy.” The officer turned once again towards YN, sending her a sly wink that had chills crawling up her body. “Good luck with this one, once his rut rolls around.”

They had waited until Rosé's family picked her up, though YN could see hesitance in her friend's eyes she quickly jumped into her brother's car and sped away. YN had originally planned to ask for a ride back to her place, but it seemed that she was now stuck with the two men. It was Jimin who took the initiative to speak, "We'll give you a ride back to your place." Jungkook looked like he was about to say something, but Jimin shot him a look and the boy quickly became quiet. It seemed that even though Jungkook was the supposed 'dominant' one, his hyungs held full reign, which wouldn't stray too far from what she remembered.

The ride was awkward and tense, to say the least, YN thought the two men would ride shotgun while she sat alone in the back. When the driver pulled up to the curb, she realized that was not to be the case. It was a thirty-minute drive from where she lived to the police station, fifteen if one sped but it seemed the driver was taking his time. Likely ordered to do so by his patrons.

"How have you been YN?" Jimin asked, turning in his seat to look at her properly. Jungkook was seated beside him, glancing out the window. YN couldn't help but feel Jimin had noticed how tense she was around the alpha, so he'd done this to make her feel secure. Sadly his efforts were wasted, YN wouldn't feel safe even if there was an entire continent between her and the men. "I've been better." That was as polite a response as she could offer up. Jimin seemed to take it, smiling at her. "We've been looking for you. We wanted to meet and discuss things, but you moved away and didn't tell anyone." YN didn't see what they had to discuss, she'd long forgiving the others for the part in which they played. She was trying to forgive Jungkook, even if she wasn't there yet. But YN could never forget. That moment would forever be imprinted in her memory and body until she eventually died.

"I just don't see what there is to talk about." She folded her hands in her lap, glaring down at them. "What's done is done." Jungkook scoffed but didn't say anything else.

Jimin moved to lay his hand on top of hers, “We don’t see it that way. You’re a part of us. You always will be.” Yeah right.

YN withdrew her hands from under his, crossing her arms though she noted Jimin’s hand remained placed on her lap. “Thank you for helping me and my friend out back there. You didn’t have to and I appreciate that.”

“Of course, we’d help you. You’re our -”

YN noticed they were near her apartment and quickly cut him off, “Thank you for the ride. I’ll contact you if anything else happens.”

Before she could jump out of the moving vehicle Jungkook said something that made her freeze, “You live in this dump?” Jimin sent a glare his way, but the words had already tumbled out of his mouth.

"It's the only place I can afford to live. It's the only place I can live in." Her tone was sharp, barely above a whisper as she wondered how much more she would have to endure.

"Right," the car had finally pulled up right in front of her apartment. "See you soon." YN exited the car, slamming the door. She practically crawled up the stairs, dreading having to have lost so much potential sleep. Her senses become hyper-aware when YN notices her front door is open, clearly hearing sounds coming from inside. Remembering that someone had broken into Rose's and with Jungkook's snarky remark at the forefront of her head, she prepared herself for whoever or whatever was inside.

Rosé stood in the middle of her apartment with all her belongings, the second her eyes met YN she broke down. "I'm sorry your landladies let me in." YN rushed to embrace her in a hug, perplexed at everything that was occurring. "Ro, please tell me what's wrong. I know that something is and I can't stand seeing you like this." Gently, YN pulled Rosé towards her bed arranging all the pillows and blankets to resemble a nest. YN wasn't big on cuddling, but she knew her best friend needed her. It took hours for Rosé to finally calm down, but now it was YN who was even more anxious. Her friend was never like this. Rosé was the bubbly of the two, the sunshine that accompanied her clouds.

“What’s wrong?”

“My brother’s alpha propositioned me.” Her tone was so dull and lifeless; resigned.

“What? Why would he do that?” YN had never met Rosé’s family, but she’d heard enough from Rosé herself when her brother finally found a mate. ‘He’s a good man. A kind one.’

It’s always the nice ones. Rosé sniffled, “He didn’t even offer to mate. He simply told my brother that I was getting too old and that it was his responsibility to take care of me. My brother thinks it’s because he can’t have pups.”

“I’m so sorry Ro.” YN hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “That guy is an asshole and I’m sorry your family ever had to cross paths with him.”

“T-they said,” sobs were threatening to leak again but Rosé bit her lip to prevent them from coming out. “I-if I don’t t-then they won’t support me anymore.” That’s why she was here with all of her stuff. Rosé had come from a family of Omega’s, being born to a single mother and then placed into the foster system wasn’t easy. It was her older brother who’d she bonded most with and it was he who helped her maintain herself.

“It’s alright, babe. You can stay with me, we’ll figure it out.”

YN would have to move, find somewhere cheaper where she could maintain both of them. Rosé's job couldn't cover rent and YN couldn't possibly ask her parents for more money. The issue was finding a new place: very few places in Seoul rented to unmated omegas, even fewer to multiple. They would all just direct them to the boarding house and if they tried to hide, then they'd be arrested. YN had already seen this morning that the system was set up against her, not that she didn't know that already.

There was a knock at the door and YN had to pry herself away from Rosé promising to be back soon.

There stood her two landladies outside the door. Well fuck. “Hi, how can I help you?” YN stepped outside and tried to close the door as much as possible. “Oh we just came to check up on your friend, YN. She looked wrecked.” Though her landladies were nice, they weren’t once to be trifled with. Both of them were sticklers for rules and YN could already guess why they were here. “I’m sorry her apartment was broken into while she was sleeping and her families out of town.”

“Oh what a shame.” Spoke the taller of the two, Min So, her brow raised as if she didn’t believe a word YN had just spoken.

"Ah I heard something about that on the news. Terrible crime rates these days. Well anyhow there was something we wanted to talk about." Ivy's tone was always polite, bordering on being too nice as if it was all an act. Min So was the one who spoke now, YN wondered if they took turns speaking; the way twins sometimes do. "We wanted to remind you that your rental contract is almost up and that we don't rent to multiple omegas or mated ones." YN's eyebrows shot up at that statement. Wondering how exactly they'd found out so quickly, it was then that YN remembered that mates are public records.

From their faces YN knew that the jig was up. She was beginning to question what she'd done in her past life to merit such bad luck. YN felt like she was the protagonist of Shakespearean tragedy forced to undergo trials and tribulations until her inevitable death. Casting one last glance at the door behind her YN let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, "That's exactly what I wished to speak with you about."

“No, absolutely not. I’ll find a place to live.”

YN groaned falling back on the sofa, she'd spent several minutes trying to make Rosé see reason. "It's fine Ro, it's not like I can even live here. I'll find someplace else and I refuse to let you go back out there knowing that predator is waiting for the perfect opportunity.” Finally her best friend relented, “but where will you go?” Rosé intertwined their hands together, she was big on skinship, having been raised as omega it was the only way she knew to express affection.

“I’ll find a new place.”

“With your mates?”

It wasn't her fault, she didn't know. YN simply nodded, not wanting to add more stress onto her friend's plate. She would figure it out. She always did.

“How long do you have to move out?”

“Three days.”

“Well then you better get packing.” It was said in a teasing tone, but that didn’t stop the dread from setting in. “I can start on dinner while you call your mates, yeah?” Yeah like that’ll be easy.

Getting in touch with them wasn't difficult, she had Jungkook's number in her phone and a business card with their work on it. It was building up the strength to make that call that took her the entirety of the day and a bit of the morning. Jungkook had been extremely pleased when she'd called, though it fizzled out a bit when she asked to speak with Jimin - privately. Still the alpha obliged, Jimin seemed surprised but his tone implied that it was rather how soon she'd called rather than that she had contacted them at all.

Now YN sat near the front of a cafe, facing the window waiting for two of them to arrive. She had asked, as cautiously as she could, that Jungkook was not present or any other alpha's for that matter. Jimin obliged, saying he understood her hesitance and that he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible around them. That would likely never happen. Truly she didn't know who he would show up with and it worried her. She knew most of them from school, having all attended the academy where elementary, middle, and high were each a few steps away from each other. However, they didn't know her at least not until the incident that created this mess.

YN took a sip of her now watered down tea, hoping to calm herself down before she simply ran out of the cafe. From where she was seated YN saw a Bentley Bentayga pull up to the front of the building before the passenger doors opened from which Park Jimin and Min Yoongi stepped out. Their walk was full of swagger and it attracted the eyes of everyone around them. Even if Beta's had a muted scent there was a different allure to the two of them: something that made people want them even if they knew they could never have them. They faced forward when they walked, heads held high as if they had only ever seen the sky and that ahead - never the ground.

Min Yoongi turned his head over so slightly and YN, fearing that he might look her way and their eyes would meet, looked down at her trembling hands. Here goes nothing. The little ring of the bell attached by the door announced their arrival. Shortly YN heard the scrapping of the chairs until Yoongi and Jimin were seated in front of her waiting.

“Hello.” It was all she could muster, she forced her downcast eyes up and met their stifling gaze. YN nearly trembling in her chair.

Jimin's lips turned upward, "You called?" There was something in his eyes, expectancy perhaps. Though YN didn't want to dwell on what he might be expecting. "Did you run into trouble?" It had been a while since she heard Yoongi speak, she'd forgotten how mellow yet rough his voice was. Back then it had been more high pitched too, but that was an expected change. Yoongi had his arms crossed but leaned forward ever so slightly. It made her uncomfortable. Having them so close, even in a public setting, made her uncomfortable. YN shook her head, she opened her mouth to talk but Jimin spoke before she could get a word out.

“How’s your friend?”

“Um, Rosé is good...kinda.” The look the two betas gave her was enough for her to launch into explaining the situation. After she was done, they both looked at each silently communicating with each other. “So...you need a place to stay?” Jimin questioned, repeating what she’d just said moments prior. YN nodded, “I know that you guys have a lot of connections, so I was wondering if you knew anyone who was renting or someone to room with.” YN knew it was unlikely but she had to try and they were her last hope.

Yoongi shook his head, “That’s ridiculous. You’re staying with us.”

Taglist will be in the comments!

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melias-cimitiere · 4 years ago

Text

Ontological Cores

Every person (ego) has an inner core, what they feel as the soul (core). A particularly insightful explanation is met in Vodou (West Africa/Haiti) as petit-bon-ange and gros-bon-ange; this is equivalent to the KA and BA of the Egyptians respectively. Now here comes the treat; all humans possess the ego part / the I (which lives only once and perishes after - some of this remaining only as energy field) and the deeper part which is eternal. This "Being" is not always human! Think carefully what I'm saying; here's where it's gonna get weird, but hear me out. There is a set number of categories of Ontological Cores (OCs) that were created. In the Golden Age of Mankind, or even before that, upon this planet lived a huge variety of beings that now have come to pass into myths and legends. Some of them existed for real, others were amalgamations of truth and wild stories, later distorted and through superstition, became nonsense. This planet has seen terrible wars in the past, as it most likely see more in the future; unfortunately Strife is part of living in the Material Universe; in any case, after the last War that changed the continents irrevocably and plunged mankind into Stone Age (again), several of these Beings ended up being incarnated into human bodies. So that cycle started for millennia since. You realize that I don't talk about Buddhism here; this is a different concept, and relates to fragmentation. When an angel or a demon is "destroyed", (s)/he fragments. The shards enter human bodies and live independent lives, as independent beings, with the sole yearning to reunite with their totality. This isn't some fluffy New Age crap; it's dead serious. In any case, let's assume a shard makes it to become self-aware. Only then can the process truly begin; he/she will seek initiation or some form of regaining lost power, thus what I told you about re-capping will take place at an accelerated speed, compared with normal humans. Like I said, we are all humans on the outside; but the inside, that varies. The majority of Mankind are in fact humans, so their OC is human. But the other Beings, also exist in small proportions. Any serious initiation work starts with Awakening the core. Without that, a person lives life like an automaton, having no real sense of purpose, no deeper meaning other than perhaps an educated animal. So if they mocked or ignored the initiations, that's their loss. A pity about the lost opportunity though.

The mortal self is expendable and cannot manifest; it is only the core that Manifests, through using the body as puppeteer. Co-existence across time works only for people truly advanced in spirit; there's the same principle of economy in the universe, like there's no point of infinite iterations of the same base energies - only those beyond a certain limit may stack such parallel "appearances" as you said. The middle scenario is more plausible, and quite close to what I said, regarding how the higher self, appearing again after death... certainly this happens to 99% of the people who are uninitiated, however those that are Awakening (enabling the core) will experience Higher Self activation while still in life, and this in my opinion is the best possible from all angles.

It is important to be able to sense both the angelic and the demonic in all things; this constant change of perspective can sometimes exhaust, and you would certainly feel like a battleground within. For those of you with demonic OCs, your OC is giving you benefits as well: You have keen insight for opportunity and your mind is sharp and effective. The demons are certainly more "practical" when it comes to matters on this earth than the angels (although there are always exceptions).

My heretical view is that neither side is "to be banished"; both have a role to play, much like when you go to watch the games, and there are two teams, thrashing each other. If we hate one team so badly that we go shooting them, there won't be another match next season, or ever again. But let's suppose that both sides are needed in the grand scheme of things, in order for it to move into phase B. So you got the angelic forces on the 8th and on the Sephirothic Heavens, and you get the demonic forces in Daath and the Qlippothic Shell Domains. Both are needed for the system to move properly; it's like a car where opposing forces are necessary in order to guide it - turning the wheel on the left all the time isn't going to do much in the long run, same as turning on the right would equally suck if done all the time. In other words, a mastermind (like Thoth, who played both sides supporting Set and also Horus in their struggle opposing each other) maintains a delicate balance through opposing forces. That the name of the game: conflict! But not brutal, idiotic conflict; but something to generate enough change and synthesis. Angels play it by the book, citing rules and opting for Order; demons are down-breakers of change, forces of opposition and teaching through adversity.

I believe there might be some confusion between the two large category of demons and what happens when they are defeated.

There are the shells, who are trillions and trillions, comprising of the ground troops; these are little more than programmable automatons, built like in demonic factories. Some of them are capable for independent thought and behavior but again, this is programmable, much like NPCs in a roleplaying game. They are mass-produced by the second category, the Actual Demons. These are Empowered through the Black Flame, they possess a mighty flaming Core and are millions of years old. When defeated, the shells like their name, shatter and perish. But that's hardly an issue because they are mass-produced anyway. Actual Demons (including their Legions who are also actual demons) when defeated they cannot die; much like an angel or a draconian entity cannot perish, their form breaks but their Essence remains; worst case scenario means that the vanquished Demon takes a period (varying from demon to demon) to reform or re-substantiate. Hence if someone, a human for example, checks at a demon's status in 1500, maybe that Demon suffered a defeat, but if another researcher says the same in 1600 simply by copying the other human; that could be a mistake. The demon is alive and well in 1600, and the same could go for any age/era, because Demons are alive and hell is in a state of flux; trying to determine its current status may be hard at times, but to say which demons are fully active due to some old grimoire is folly. In any case, when investigating this in person your instinct will serve you well. Other investigators may also confirm the same.

#demons #Hell #shards #left hand path #theistic satanism #lhp #awakening #spirituality #shards of the soul #shells

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aforrestofstuff · 5 years ago

Note

What type of kid do you think the OPM characters were at school? I know not all of them went to school, but what if....

Thanks for the request anon! I’ve basically just written a handy-dandy little high school au for y’all lmfao.

OPM Characters in High School

Tornado of Terror: Absolutely 0 respect for authority. She’s tiny, but she can fucking fight and everyone knows it. For that reason, she’s feared and avoided at all costs. She often feels lonely because of this and finds it hard to make new friends, but she’d rather go through high school suffering alone before she dare let anyone get close.

Silverfang: Tries to recruit his peers into this little club he’s made where he tries to teach martial arts but the only kid that joins is this little shit named Charanko that doesn’t really care at all about what’s being taught. He’s really reliable in group projects and is overall a good student, albeit a little wise beyond his years.

Atomic Samurai: The kid that drinks alcohol under the bleachers during transition periods. He fails almost every class except one. However, in that one class, he is an absolute genius. His talents are few and niche but he really soars when given the chance to embrace his full potential. He’s really dogmatic and almost rude at times, but he’s managed to get himself a small group of friends that are keen on following him ‘till the end.

Child Emperor: Prodigy student. Straight A’s, extracurriculars, extra credit, you name it. He aces it all. Everyone wants to get a peek at his homework and he obliges kindly almost all of the time out of pure politeness. He’s also in marching band because he gets a thrill out of dooting a trumpet (is that an instrument in band? I can’t fucking remember). Overall, he’s very well-liked, although not respected. People kind of walk all over him because they know he’s all-too-eager to lend a helping hand.

Metal Knight: Polar opposite to Child Emperor. He’s a prodigy student as well, but he will NEVER lend a helping hand to anyone. If you’re paired with him in a group project, he’ll just brush you off and do the whole thing himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else with his grade. Teachers get pissed off at him because he’s always correcting them during class. He pushes people around and treats his peers as if they were lesser than him based solely on their intelligence, and thus doesn’t have many (if any) friends.

King: Doesn’t study at all but still gets A’s somehow. He’s got the teachers fooled thinking he’s some sort of prodigy kid, when really he just finds ways to copy off of other people’s work. He’s got a PSP under the table at all times during lectures and sits alone during lunch. People think he’s mysterious and cool but he’s really just an anxious kid trying to get by.

Zombieman: The cool, mysterious kid that skips class and smokes outside. The teachers don’t mind him because he doesn’t cause any trouble. He’s only got a handful of friends, one of those being Child Emperor (whom he’s really close to) and people think he’s just trying to cheese himself out of a failing grade by copying off of CE when he’s really fine all on his own. He’s surprisingly smart and quick-witted, just not in the way that report cards show. Still though, he passes with solid Bs and Cs.

Drive Knight: Set the school on fire once. Blackmailed a principal on the basis that they were having an affair and threatened to release this information unless they extended lunch period. Studies hard and gets good grades only to compete with Metal Knight. Their rivalry is well-known in school and everyone thinks it’s just a joke but Drive Knight is dead serious.

Pig God: The lunch ladies have second servings ready the minute he walks into the cafeteria because they know he eats like a horse. He doesn’t say shit in class and is overall just really quiet and shy. People bully him because he’s the fat kid with no social skills, but he’s really nice to the few friends that he has. Teachers either pity him or join the bullies in picking on him. It’s kind of sad.

Superalloy Darkshine: Football jock. He’s a little dumb but he’s actually the sweetest person ever. People often try to take advantage of him because he’s always ready to help, but he’s got a lot of friends that warn him when that happens. He’s overall just the most supportive, warm-hearted, social butterfly in school and he brightens up every room he walks in to. Nobody dislikes him. The coaches all put their faith in him during the season and he always delivers with winning scores (I don’t know shit about football lol).

Watchdog Man: Does absolutely buttfuck nothing in school. He only does the bare minimum. Like, he’s so close to flunking out that he’s among the bottom 1% in the student body. Still, somehow, he always pulls through just before finals and comes out with a barely passing grade. Every. Single. Year. He has no friends, doesn’t talk to anyone, and never raises his hand in class. People wonder if he’s actually a student or a ghost that wandered in.

Flashy Flash: Track star. Fastest kid this side of the fuckin continent. He put the school on the map by winning so many championships. He’s ridiculously handsome and has a lot of secret admirers too, but he ignores all of that to focus on sports. Even the teachers kiss his ass because he’s kind of a legend. Although everyone wants to be his friend, however, he’s actually quite the loner. He spends his down time during school hours running on the track or sitting alone to read a good book.

Genos: Teacher’s pet. Absolute ass-kisser. He tries his absolute best to study and never wastes a single second not having his nose in a textbook but still only manages to get Bs. It frustrates the living hell out of him. He’s adopted a lot of unhealthy ways to stay awake during the school day because he spends all night going above and beyond on homework, like drinking a full pot of coffee or smuggling energy drinks into class. He follows Saitama around because he wants to learn the secret to getting good grades without actually trying.

Metal Bat: He’s intimidating and mean-looking. Upon first glance, you might think he was a bully but it’s actually the other way around. He doesn’t tolerate bullshit like that while he’s in the vicinity and is not afraid to cuss anyone out should they ever pick on another student, teachers included. He’s been reprimanded so many times for that exact reason and has gotten a plaque in the principal’s office for breaking the district record. He’s a pretty shit student, but it’s not because he’s dumb. He’s actually pretty witty, but due to his terrible dyslexia and devotion to his little sister, his grades have suffered.

Tanktop Master: Best friends with Superalloy. Together, they carry the football scene for the entire school. He’s a bit smarter and quieter, but he’s just as nice. He aces all of his classes and is the sole reason Superalloy isn’t failing because he allows this dumbass to copy his work. He has a crazy amount of secret admirers but disregards them to hang out with his homies on the football team instead (and he always wears tanktops to school lol).

Puri-Puri Prisoner: Theater kid with such a drastic flair for the dramatic that people have actually gotten hurt trying to act out his ridiculous ideas. He’s super huge for his age and people often mistake him as a teacher. He’s one of those kids that have a full-grown beard at age 17 and he doesn’t quite know how to take care of it or shave properly yet so it’s kind of gross and patchy. Also, he’s the resident gay kid. It’s embarrassing.

Amai Mask: Also a theater kid but he’s way better at it. On top of that, he’s a choir star. Whenever there’s an opening for a solo, it always goes to him. There’s an ongoing conspiracy that all of his teachers pick him as favorite despite him being a bit of a dick at times but it’s still up in the air. He’s ridiculously attractive and has an outrageous amount of secret admirers, but he actually makes an effort to humor them and “entertain the crowd”. He’s still single, however, and devotes all of his time to mastering his craft in the ✨fine arts✨ (and singing. Idk if that counts as a ✨fine art✨ but whatever).

Iaian: Kamikaze’s best friend. They do everything together. He’s a bit of a doormat, though. He’s always seen carrying Kami’s books or doing his homework. Despite all that, he still manages to maintain an A-B average. He’s very studious and studies hard while participating in sports, despite only having one arm. The other kids would bully him for it but nobody wants to be known as the dick that picks on a disabled person (and rightfully so. Shit’s fucked up). He’s pretty quiet, serious, and mostly keeps to himself. Teachers always trust him to turn his work in on time and set an example for the rest of the class.

Okamaitachi: Another one of Kami’s best friends. She doesn’t fall for his bullshit though. She’s always seen in ridiculously fashionable outfits and holds a separate bag just to carry her extra change of clothes (in addition to her gym outfit). She always looks her best and does her best, super high energy 24/7. She’s a social butterfly and makes friends easily, especially while doing theater. She’s not as exceptional as Amai Mask, but she’s still talented in her own right.

Bushidrill: Yet another best friend of Kami’s. He also doesn’t fall for his bullshit. Bushi is another one of those kids that has a full beard at age 17, but he actually knows how to take care of it. He’s weirdly wise beyond his years and is everyone’s go-to for advice when they find themselves in a bad situation. He drinks illegally as well but keeps it a secret because he’s not an idiot (unlike Kami). Overall, he just keeps to himself and minds his own damn business despite knowing everyone’s drama.

Fubuki: Networking queen. She was voted “most likely to be a CEO” in the school yearbook. She’s head of the student body and negotiates like a pro. She’ll organize events and get good grades all while still managing to find the time to hang out with her friends outside of school. She’s always go go go 24/7. Nobody knows her and Tatsu are sisters, though. She doesn’t go out of her way to keep it a secret, but she would feel pretty terrible if people found out because she doesn’t want to be compared with anyone else.

Saitama: Does buttfuck nothing in class and never studies but still gets As anyways because he remembers all of the material effortlessly. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he was one of those insanely gifted kids that never developed a work ethic because he’s never had to struggle to get by academic-wise. He minds his own damn business and stays out of everyone’s shit but still manages to get caught up in a ton of drama somehow. He shares his lunches with Genos because Genos often forgets to eat. Fubuki has tries to recruit him into student government but he refuses each time. All in all, just an average kid that is always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mumen Rider: Studies hard, is a teacher’s pet, and gets perfect grades. His mom packs him really nice, healthy lunches and she leaves little love notes in there so he knows he’s got a good family waiting for him back home. The reason for that being, he gets bullied a lot. There’s no real reason why. He’s a nice kid and there’s nothing wrong with him, but a lot of his peers see him as an easy target because he’s scrawny and wimpy. He does have a handful of friends though. One of those being Saitama, who stands up to those bullies on behalf of Mumen.

Sonic: Wild card. He’s also on the track team and it’s just as good as Flash. They’re rivals and everyone knows it. He and Flash were childhood best friends until they drifted apart sometime before junior high, only to meet again while doing sports at the beginning of freshman year. Coaches often pit them against each other because it’s fun to watch the top two go at it. Academic-wise, he sucks. He’s the dumbest motherfucker in all of his classes and manages to get by solely because he uses his status as track star to get everyone to let him copy their work.

Garou: Another wild card. Teachers absolutely hate him. He’s loud-mouthed, awkward, and doesn’t really fit in. He has a lot of interests and wishes to get into some extracurriculars or clubs but he’s too worried about getting bullied. Like Mumen, there’s nothing really wrong with him. He’s not a dick for no reason, but people just see him as an easy target somehow and decide to pick on him relentlessly. He and Silverfang were once friends, but Silverfang betrayed him sometime before the start of the new year. His grades are atrocious because he can’t focus during class. Someone help this boy.

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puckinghell · 5 years ago

Text

Let It Snow | William Nylander

Summary Request:

alternatively, our flights get cancel and we’re two strangers who rent the last available car together (it might be a little dangerous but we’re living on the edge)

and

we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b

and

we don’t know each other that well but i found out that you’ve never been sledding skating and feel like it’s my personal mission to change that

Words: 10k (I’m SORRY) Note: So, a few things: I wrote most of this when I was either drunk or sick, so excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. Second of all, you guys wanted one long thing instead of parts, so here’s 10k of word vomit. Third of all, this is cliche central, and I’m not even sorry. And lastly, I know Will’s family doesn’t live in Calgary anymore but I very well couldn’t have them drive to Sweden.

---

“I hate snow.”

It’s meant to be mumbled under your breath, for nobody to hear but you; you didn’t even really mean to say it out loud, but it kinda slipped.

You really hate snow.

The guy that’s sitting opposite you looks up. So far, he’s been engulfed in his phone, but now there’s an interested look on his face as he takes you in.

“Why?” he asks.

As if that’s a totally normal thing to ask a complete stranger in the middle or a crowded airport.

You shoot him a dirty look, take a sip of your coffee before answering him, your voice deadpan. “Have you looked around you?”

The guy looks, as if he actually hadn’t noticed before that the airport around him has been getting busier and busier, the people there more annoyed and miserable looking by the second.

“Oh,” he says.

Yeah, oh.

You huff and return your attention to the announcement board again, hoping the message is going to magically change.

It doesn’t. Flight delayed, it says.

“Are you going to Calgary too?” the guy asks.

Now it’s not really his fault: he hasn’t personally caused a huge snow storm to hit Toronto and he’s probably just trying to be nice, but you’re already in a bad mood.

So you snap: “No, I’m just sitting here for shits and giggles.”

“Never mind,” the guy mutters, and his eyes fix on his phone again.

Great, now you feel like shit about that.

However, the universe needs to give you a break. This has literally been the worst week of your life and it’s only Thursday: the only thing that has pulled you through so far is knowing you’re going to see your dad, and now it’s looking like that might be going up in flames.

“Excuse me, may I please have your attention,” a voice sounds over the speaker at your gate, and you perk up in your seat. “We regret to inform you that, due to the upcoming snow storm, all air traffic in this area has been cancelled until further notice. Your flight will not depart today. For more information, you may contact the information desk.”

“Fuck.”

The guy opposite you raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t want people to start a conversation with you, you might want to stop talking to yourself.”

He stands up leisurely, as if the cancelled flight is no bother to him at all, and grabs his suitcase. He points to the board, where it now says Flight cancelled instead of Flight delayed – fucking fantastic – and motions at it, as if to say “what can you do”.

“How are you so chill about this?” It’s more that you’re wondering out loud than actually wanting an answer, but of course the guy grabs the opportunity.

“Well, it’s still four days to Christmas, and Calgary isn’t on another continent. It sucks that there won’t be any flights anytime soon, but you can’t change the weather.” He smiles. “I actually love snow, personally. And a little snow has never stopped me before. So I’m gonna rent a car and drive to Calgary.”

You stare at him. “Drive? To Calgary? That’s insane.”

“I mean, not as insane as spending Christmas away from my family,” the guy reasons, and….

He might have a point. You could stay here, and be miserable alone, or you could drive to Calgary and spend time with your dad like you planned. You could be enjoyed your dad’s pancakes, drinking hot chocolate by the fire place watching Elf, within a mere 40 hours, if you put the gas pedal down.

It’s, objectively, insane.

“I’m gonna rent a car too.”

“Great,” the guy says, jovially. “We can walk together then!”

And that was not really your plan, but to be fair, you don’t really know where you’re supposed to go to rent a car and this guy is walking as if he does this every day, so you dutifully follow him.

You take this time to look him over; he looks funny, in sweatpants with white sneakers – in the snow! - and a hoodie with a coat. He has a beanie on and there’s a few blond streaks of hair escaping from under it. He’s wearing thick black framed glasses. The suitcase he has with him has the Gucci logo on it, and you find yourself wondering if it’s real.

The guy is dressed like he’s either super rich but doesn’t care, or is slightly blind and got a 13 year old high school boy to pick out his clothing at a weird second hand shop.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks, and you frown.

“Why do you care? I wasn’t aware we were going to become best friends in the time it takes to walk to the rental car booth.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, remaining completely unbothered as if you didn’t just snap at him. “I’m Will.” He glances over at you, seemingly amused. “It’s just a cancelled plane, you know. Not the end of the world.”

“It’s not just about the plane.” You almost tell him about the week you’ve had, but you decide it’s not worth the trouble. After all, you’re just going to rent a car and then you’re going your separate ways, and you’ll never see him again.

That’s the plan, at least. But it wouldn’t be this time in your life if your plan didn’t get ruined.

“I’m sorry, miss, that was the last car we have available,” the woman behind the computer says, right after she’s handed Will some keys. “Everyone is trying to get outta here by car, now that the planes aren’t going.”

You nearly, nearly, start to cry.

“What do you mean the last car? Surely you have a car somewhere,” you beg. “Any car. A bike. I don’t care. I have to get to Calgary for Christmas, you don’t understand…”

“I understand,” the lady interrupts, the friendly facade sliding off her face. “Unfortunately, I cannot help you. Have a good day.”

Have a good day?

“Look, lady…”

You’re about to yell at her some more when you feel someone tap your shoulder. Of course, it’s Will, beaming down at you with the keys to your last option in his hand.

“Yelling at her won’t work, you know. It’s not gonna make you feel better or stop you from being in a mood.”

Something inside you snaps.

“In a mood? You wanna know why I’m in such a mood, Will? I’m in a mood because this Monday, I got told my residency at the hospital I work at might not be available to me next year, because they’re cutting personnel at the department. On Tuesday, I ran my legs out of my body for 15 hours before they told me that I shouldn’t come back after Christmas. On Wednesday, my boyfriend of almost a year broke up with me because he’s looking for different things in life, whatever the fuck that means. And the only, only thing I was looking forward to was seeing my dad again, and now this stupid snow has ruined that for me as well. So excuse my mood, but I will yell at whoever I want to!”

Will blinks at you, then raises an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Slowly, you exhale through your nose. You do, actually, feel better, and Will seems to know that because he’s grinning.

“If you’re done yelling, I was gonna ask you…” he trails, “do you want a lift?”

---

Arguably, this is a bad idea. You don’t even know this guy. He could be literally anyone.

“You could be a serial killer,” you tell him, putting on your seatbelt and sinking into the passenger’s seat. “You could drive me out of the city, murder me, dismember my corpse and leave me in the woods.”

“Hmm,” Will hums, as he starts the car. “I could, but that would massively delay my arrival time.”

You kick up your feet on the dash and play with the radio; the only songs you’re getting are Christmas songs, and that’s just not the right mood. Of course, as soon as you settle on some station that’s not playing Christmas music, Will frowns.

“Do you hate Christmas? Cause if you’re the Grinch, I’m gonna have to kick you out now.”

You look out the window; Toronto traffic is bad as always and you’re standing still barely out of the airport.

“I’m not the Grinch. I just don’t love Christmas.”

“How?” Will exclaims. “Christmas is the best holiday of the year!”

“I prefer Halloween,” you say, and Will rolls his eyes.

“And I’m the serial killer.”

“Christmas is overrated. I don’t care for trees in my house, creating a mess, Christmas movies are cheesy, Christmas songs are objectively bad and everyone is just stressed around Christmas time, trying to find gifts and decorate and wear stupid sweaters and go to parties with people they don’t like.”

You don’t tell him that you also don’t like Christmas because when your mom left, she said she would send you a Christmas gift.

As if that made it okay for a mother to leave her 12 year old daughter behind.

“Grinch,” Will mutters under his breath. You reach out and smack his arm, and he yelps in surprise. “Hey, don’t hit the driver, we could crash!”

“We’re literally standing still.”

“I could accidentally press the gas!”

“Then you’d be an idiot!”

You sigh and drop your head against the headrest, staring out of the window at all the headlights surrounding you.

It’s gonna be a long trip.

For the first few hours of the drive, it turns out the not be the worst. First, you and Will talk about your families a little: he’s got four siblings and his parents are still “very grossly in love” (his words) and you tell him that you’ve got just your dad and grandma left.

You don’t tell him what happened with your mom and he doesn’t ask, which is probably good judgement from his side.

Most of the time, however, you nap and Will drives or you drive and Will sleeps; you both decided that you want to get to Calgary as fast as you can, and not stopping is the way to do that.

It feels like it’s been days, but in reality you’ve only been driving for about 8 hours when Will stretches beside you and yawns.

“We should stop for gas,” he says, “and get me at least two liters of coffee to inject into my veins.”

“Probably a bad idea,” you deadpan. “That volume of liquid into your system would probably kill you instantly, and if it didn’t, the caffeine would give you a heart attack. Also, if you have to pee in an hour I’ll kill you.”

Will grins. “No good outcome possible for me, then, huh?” He points out the window. “Gas station.”

While you’re driving down the lane, he turns to look at you.

“You’re a nurse,” he says, and you frown.

“Yeah, I told you that.”

“I know, but like, you’re an actual nurse. I didn’t think about what that meant. But that’s really cool.”

You sigh. “Well, yeah, but if I don’t find another residency I’m gonna be half a nurse. And that won’t pay the bills.”

“You’ll find one,” Will says, easily enough, as if it’s a mere fact, and for the first time since you got the news, you feel some of the anxiety in your stomach settle.

It’s probably strange, that the fact that this guy, who you have only spent one day with, can tell you it’s gonna be fine and you believe it.

Maybe it’s because he seems truly genuine in his conviction. Maybe it’s because you’re just that desperate.

“Coffee?” Will asks, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get it, you fill the tank,” you say, because you really want to stretch your legs. You spend your time wandering the little shop, getting two large coffees and also a few snacks for the road – what else is there to do in a car but eat and nap – and when you finally reemerge, Will is talking to someone next to the car.

“So awesome to meet you, dude, huge fan,” the man says. You watch as Will scribbles something on a napkin with a pen.

“Anytime. Sorry I don’t have paper.” Will smiles at the man politely as he hands him the napkin.

“No problem!” The man seems very excited about the napkin, and as he walks back to his car, he looks at Will again over his shoulder and waves. Will waves back, then turns to you and makes grabby hands for the coffee.

“Gimme!”

“What was that?” you frown, holding the coffee out of his reach. “Who was that?”

“A guy,” Will deadpans, “and a napkin. Coffee, please?”

You don’t hand it to him but he somehow manages to snatch it out of your hands; he’s faster than you’d think he’d be, and he’s back in the car before you can ask again.

Luckily, he’s stuck with you in this car for a while.

“That wasn’t just a guy,” you say, stubbornly. “He was really excited to see you. Does he know you?”

“I don’t know him,” Will answers, and that’s about the best deflecting you’ve ever heard.

“Not what I asked.”

Will sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Do you watch hockey?”

“Hockey?” you repeat dumbfoundedly. “Like, where people skate after a piece of rubber? No, why?”

“But you know hockey is a pretty big deal in the city, yeah?”

You don’t know why Will is pressing the issue; you’re more interested to find out who the man is, but Will seems very intent on this line of conversation, so you decide to let him get away with it for now.

“Yeah, my boyf… ex boyfriend is a big Maple Leafs fan.”

Will snorts, but before you can ask what he means by that, he points to your phone, that’s laying in your lap.

“Google Maple Leafs number 88.”

“Why, is he hot?” you tease, but you do as he says.

William Nylander, your screen tells you, and beside it is a picture of Will.

“Kinda,” Will says blankly.

You look at Will, and then at your screen. Then back at Will. “That’s you,” you bring out, and Will chuckles.

“Well, yes. Does that explain enough to you?”

And it does. You might not watch hockey – you don’t really watch sports anyway – but you know from your ex how big a deal it is to some people, and you can imagine what it must be like to be a Leafs player living in Toronto.

You also remember your ex screaming at the television screen.

“Rough season so far, huh?” you say. “That why you wanna go to Calgary so badly?”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Yeah, kinda. I mean, new coach, new opportunity, I’m excited, it’s just…” He pauses, seems to ponder his answer. It doesn’t sound like a rehearsed media answer, when he finally speaks. “I really need that new start, but I need a little break to empty my mind a bit, first. Put it into perspective, I guess. My dad is really good at helping with that, and so is my brother. Alex plays in the NHL too, and my dad used to. It’s… They know what it’s like, but they’re not on my team, so they offer more of an outside view.”

“You can tell me?” you offer. “I don’t know shit about hockey, so I’ve got an outside view.”

Will is laughing, then, and his eyes are twinkling and the car feels strangely small, suddenly.

“What do you do when you suck at your job for a while, and everyone loses their faith in you, and then you get better but nobody believes in you anymore?”

For the heaviness of the question, his tone is light, and he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in beat with the music, as if he asked about your holiday plans.

You think of your mom.

“When I was little, I used to patch up my dolls with plasters and tell my mom I wanted to be a nurse. She said I couldn’t because I fainted at the sight of blood.” You shrug. “You just have to show them, I guess.”

Will nods slowly, then breaks into a smile. “Did you really faint at the sight of blood?”

“Shut up,” you chide, and the mood is lifted. It’s getting dark outside and you know you’ll have to start napping soon if you wanna take over driving in two hours, but for now you’re perfectly happy listening to Will’s chatter and the soft rumble of the engine in the background, as the car speeds down the highway, getting a little closer to Calgary with every passing minute.

---

Your eyes flutter open to darkness around you, and the car sitting in the parking lot of a gas station.

You turn just enough to see Will: he’s behind the wheel, eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape as his head hangs back.

The car is surrounded by snow: white flurries of it floating down to the ground, hitting the car.

For a second, you wonder why you’re not cold. Then you catch sight of Will’s coat, draped over your legs and stomach. You can’t help but smile at it, and then you close your eyes again.

The situation feels safely serene and safe, and you might as well take advantage of that and get some more sleep.

---

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of Christmas music coming from the speakers, Willy’s voice singing along.

“Not the time for Christmas carols,” you groan, and Will laughs.

“It’s always time for Christmas carols, Y/N,” he chides. You hear rustling, and you finally open your eyes.

“I stopped for a few hours,” Will says, “just to get some sleep. But we’re up and running again.”

Ah, that explains the scene you woke up yesterday. You glance at the clock: 7am. The sun is slowly starting to rise.

“It’s too early for you to be this happy,” you grumble. You haven’t had any coffee yet and that means you’re really not in the mood to have Will radiating energy around you.

“How are you not this happy?” Will asks. “Look outside!”

Outside is the road, but you understand what he means. Everything is covered by a thick layer of snow.

“It’s… white,” you say, because that’s about as far as you’re getting.

“It’s beautiful!” Will’s eyes are lit up with excitement.

“You’re insane,” you state, because that has been proven by this exchange.

“No I’m not! Snow is amazing. It’s beautiful, and it’s fun. Everything gets better in winter.”

You crank up the heat in the car and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Everything does not get better in winter,” you frown. “First of all, it’s cold. Everything is slippery because of the frost, the snow turns to yellow mush within a few hours. You have to shovel the driveway.”

“Or you could build snowmen with it. You can go skating on the ponds. Have snowball fights.”

You snort. “Snowball fights? What are we, 12?”

Will’s eyes widen slightly. “You’re never too old for a good snowball fight.” His voice is fond as he continues. “I play in the snow with my younger siblings every winter when I’m home. That’s like, the best part of Christmas.”

And, well…

“I can kinda get that, in concept,” you say softly. “There was never really anyone to play with me, I guess.”

Will’s eyes are a little sad as he glances over at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You appreciate that: you’re not ready to share anything more and it’s like he senses that. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Hey, have you ever been skating?”

“Nope,” you say, and the grin Willy shoots you is a little wicked.

“We’re changing that today.”

---

What Will means, apparently, is that it’s a good idea when you’re halfway between Toronto and Calgary to stop in a small little town and find an ice rink.

“This is insane,” you protest. “We’re losing time!”

“We’ve got 48 hours til Christmas,” Will shrugs, “and only an 18 hour drive left. Come on, after this we’ll drive straight through. It’ll be fun.” His eyes are shining and you can literally feel the excitement buzzing off of him, and, well…

Skating did always seem like fun to you. When you were younger, you asked your dad to take you once, but renting skates costs money so it never happened. You remember the disappointment in your dad’s eyes as he had to tell you no, so you didn’t dare ask again.

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate after,” Will coaxes. You don’t understand why he wants to go that badly: he spends most of his days on the ice, anyway, surely he’d be happy for a break.

“Fine,” you grumble, and you can’t help but laugh at the smug look on Willy’s face as he pulls the car to the side of the road.

The rink is small and filled with people. There’s a lot of small children that are skating behind little chairs, and you can picture yourself being there too.

“I’m gonna be so much worse than them,” you whine, at the same moment one of the kids falls onto the ice. A woman helps the little girl up and she goes right back at it.

You don’t think you’re gonna be that brave.

“Oh, shush, I’m not gonna let you fall,” says Will, and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

This whole situation is so freaking cliche, and you are not going to fall for it.

You rent skates for you and Will brings his own, because of course he brought skates in his suitcase. You’re struggling with the laces on the bench next to the rink, mostly to stall for some time; your heart is beating fast in your throat and your hands are a little clammy.

“Need some help with those?” Will is sitting sideways on the bench, and he’s grinning at you amused while you struggle. Feeling a little bold, you swing your leg into his lap.

You can tell he wasn’t expecting it because his eyes widen slightly, but then the grin only broadens and he starts carefully lacing up your skates. You watch as his fingers work the laces expertly – it’s clear that he’s done this a million times before – and then, his hand curls around your ankle.

“Other one,” he orders, and you switch legs.

Finally, the skates are on and Will hops to his feet, extending his hand and helping you to your feet. You’re already wobbling and you’re not even on this ice yet.

“If I break my leg, I can’t drive,” you say, mostly because the thought pops into your head.

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re not gonna break your leg.”

“If I hit my head and have a concussion, I can’t drive either.”

“Y/N.” Will’s voice is firm enough that you look up at him. He’s frowning. “You’re not gonna break anything, or hit anything, or fall. If you really don’t want to do this, we can leave now, but if there’s any part of you that agrees that this could be kinda fun, I promise you I’ve got you.” His eyes are a little shiny as he adds: “Trust me?”

And it’s stupid, you know it is, because you barely know Will. You’re pretty sure you’d have found out if he truly was a serial killer or any other type of psycho, but you can’t be sure he’s not irresponsible – although he did pull over in the snow – or prove that he’s trustworthy in any way.

And yet…

“I trust you,” you say then, and the blinding smile that crosses Will’s face is worth the fear in your heart when you place your first foot on the ice.

You can feel it slipping right away, but Will literally hops on the ice next to you, two feet planted firmly on the slippery surface, and places his hands on your hips, steadying your waist. In a reflex, your hands curls around his biceps, and once again you are reminded that holy shit, he’s a professional athlete.

“Wow, easy,” Will hums. He slowly guides you further away from the door, and your other foot adds to your first, and then you’re gliding.

You can’t call it skating: Will is moving backwards and pulling you with him, but you’re not necessarily moving on your own.

The first round goes like that, and then you decide to be brave and start moving your feet.

To be fair, Will keeps his promise. He never leaves your side, his hand firmly on your lower back even when you do start skating yourself, ready to catch you whenever you stumble – which is a lot.

“I’m doing it,” you yelp excitedly, when he finally lets his hand hover a little away from you. “I’m skating!”

Will laughs. “Proud of you, babe.”

And it’s probably just something he says; he probably calls a lot of people babe, it probably means nothing, and yet…

“Help,” you manage to squeak, and then your arms are waving in the air and your feet are slipping from under you and you try to maintain your balance, but you can pinpoint the second it’s a lost cause.

For a split second you’re plummeting towards the ice, but then two arms are wrapped around your waist and you just kinda… hang there.

“Thanks,” you say dryly. You’re hanging in Will’s arms as he’s hysterically cackling out laughter above you. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and pull you up.

“Majestic,” he giggles, and he tightens his grip on your waist when you slap him in the chest.

“Rude,” you grumble, but you can’t help the smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips.

It’s weird, but suddenly you notice how close he is, and when his eyes travel to your lips the smile falls from his face and you can tell he noticed too.

You stare at him, and it’s like the air is charged with something; your heart is beating in your throat and you swear he’s moving closer.

Oh, you think, we’re gonna kiss.

Strangely enough, the thought doesn’t send panic to your throat the way it did when your ex kissed you the first time, the way it always has when someone kissed you. Instead, it’s like everything inside of you goes calm and quiet.

You want him to kiss you. And it’s a little scary how not scary that is.

You’re interrupted by a small voice.

“Mister Nylander?”

Will startles, yank back fast enough that you nearly tumble straight back down to the ice, but one firm hand on your waist keeps you standing. He turns around then, to face the little girl that spoke: she can’t be more than five years old and is wearing a helmet with a cage, holding a hockey stick in her hands and staring at Will with wide, starstruck eyes.

He bends down into a squat – on skates, literally, how – and smiles at the girl.

“Hi, yes, that’s me. You can call me Willy, though. What’s your name?”

“Amanda,” the girl beams. “Can I get your autograph, mister Willy?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Willy says. “How about I bring my friend here to the safety of the ground and I shoot some pucks with you, huh?”

Amanda looks like someone just offered her the entire world and everything in it. “Please,” she says, and Will quickly guides you towards the side of the rink.

“I won’t be long,” he promises, and he almost looks apologetic, which…

Which is ridiculous. Because you can tell that him just being here made that little girl’s day, and you think of the things you wanted as a little girl and the heroes you never got to meet, and…

“Take all the time in the world, please,” you say. “I’ll go get myself that hot chocolate.”

For two hours you sit at the side watching Will with the kids. Somehow after Amanda more and more kids appeared and now he’s created somewhat of an impromptu hockey team because they’re all playing and the adults cleared the rink.

It’s entertaining, to watch Will with the kids. He’s a good teacher, and you can see them hitting the net more and more as time passes on, and he clearly makes it fun: they’re all laughing and screaming and at one point, a few of them tackle Will to the ice, where he rolls around and pretends to be unable to get up, yet hops to his feet the second the kids get distracted.

It’s insane, how comfortably he moves around. Like, you knew this, because he’s a professional hockey player, of course he can skate, but you didn’t really think anything of it until you see it in action. He’s obviously not even trying to do anything fancy, and he’s probably not trying to be fast either, but he is, and he stops without problem and turns in any direction and even jumps over a puck, at some point.

You can’t lie. It’s kinda hot. But then, you’ve always had a thing for people who were clearly good at something.

For example, your ex was a really good painter. He was also really good at being a lying, cheating bastard.

Before you can go too far down that rabbit hole, there’s commotion on the rink, someone crying and then Will’s voice, too loud: “What happened?”

When you look up he’s kneeling in front of a little boy, who’s crying and staring at his hand.

You jump up, worrying, but Will has already lifted to kid in his arms and is skating towards you now, with big strides.

“He took a skate to the hand, we’re gonna need some bandages,” he says, and a parent yells something about getting a first aid kit while Will puts the kid on his lap on the bench. “Can you look at him?” he asks you, worry evident in his voice even though he’s clearly trying to remain calm. He’s a little pale, but you don’t have time to deal with that right now.

“Hey, buddy,” you coo at the kid, kneeling in front of him, placing your hand on Will’s knee to steady yourself. “What’s your name?”

“Tim,” the kid cries. “My hand hurts!”

“I know it does, Tim. But the good news is that we can fix it,” you promise him, examining the hand. It doesn’t look too bad: there’s a cut, but not deep enough to perforate anything more than flesh, so you’re not too worried.

The first aid kit arrives and so does Timmy’s dad, who doesn’t seem too bothered. “He falls all the time,” he says, “that’s what hockey is, isn’t it?” He preens at Will, who dutifully ignores him in order to talk to Timmy in a low voice.

You wrap up Timmy’s hand and tell him to take it easy for a few days, and then before you know it you’re in the car and Will is holding the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white.

“Do you want me to drive?” you ask tentatively. There’s no answer, but Will isn’t turning on the car. “He’s gonna be okay, you know.” Silence. Another try. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just can’t believe,” Will starts, but he seems to choke on the last word and lets the sentence die, drops his head and inhales sharply. It takes a while, but finally he speaks, a little more composed. “I hate when parents tell their kids that hockey is about pain and sacrifice. It can be, sometimes, but it shouldn’t be, not for a little kid. It should be about fun, and learning skill, and being with teammates, and loving it. It shouldn’t be about falling and injuries.”

He sounds so frustrated that it tugs at your heart strings, and for a split second you allow yourself to wonder what Will was told by his dad, when he was a kid himself.

“He wasn’t even trying to soothe him,” Willy bites. “He was too busy fawning over the presence of a professional hockey player, and I don’t… I don’t wanna be the person these idiots believe I am.”

“And you’re not,” you blurt out. “Will, these kids had so much fun with you.”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I just… Me and my brother, we always had fun skating. My dad told us it was important to always have fun. But I’ve seen it happen to friends. They were so passionate about hockey, but their parents pushed them, wanted them to be better too quick and told them to suck it up when the skates hurt their feet and it just fizzled out, you know? Until one day it wasn’t any fun and they quit.”

“It’s a shame,” you echo. “But your dad…?”

“He was hard on us, sure.” Will shrugs, smiles for real this time. “Pushed us to be better. But he always made it fun.” He turns to you. “Your dad… He stood behind your dreams?”

You remember you told him your mom didn’t think you could be a nurse, and you laugh. “The blood thing, you mean? Yeah, he didn’t agree with my mom. He always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and if I decided I wanted to be something else, I could be that, too. He’s always been there for me.” You shrug. “I’m lucky to have him. My mom… She left when I was 12. And I…”

You stop, for a second, wondering if you’re really gonna tell this to a complete stranger. But the thing is, Will doesn’t feel like a complete stranger anymore. Talking to him feels more comfortable than talking to most of your friends, and you can tell he really cares about what you’re saying, and you just, you want to tell him, so you do.

“I don’t like Christmas because my mom left right before Christmas, and she said: ‘I might not see you for a while, honey, but I’ll send you a Christmas gift.’ She didn’t, and I never saw her again.”

When you glance at Will, he’s frowning, a deep crease edged into his forehead. “That’s messed up.”

“Yeah, but, it was a long time ago. I’m mostly over it, I just never learned to love Christmas the way most kids do, I guess. My dad tried to make it fun for me, but it was always the reminder, you know, that I didn’t have a mom and other kids did.” You laugh, a little bitterly. “And then this year my ex-boyfriend dumped me on the 16th. My mom left me on the 17th. So I guess December is just not a good month for me.”

“Your ex is an asshole.” Will says it with such force, gritting his teeth, that you can’t help but reach over and put your hand on his knee.

“It’s okay,” you muse, and the tension leaves Will’s shoulders as he carefully wraps your hand in his.

His hand is warm and a little rough and there’s something hammering in your chest, and you wonder how it’s possible that you met him two days ago and he’s already making you feel more than your ex-boyfriend ever had.

You guess you never really liked that guy as much as you told yourself you did.

“It’s not,” he says, but he doesn’t so upset anymore. “And if he was here, I’d punch him in the face. But I’m glad to see you didn’t let him hurt you too much.” Will grins. “And now you’ve been skating, so, like, fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” you echo, and Will starts the car.

18 hours to go. And then you’re in Calgary, and you’re gonna see your dad, and you’ll probably never see Will again.

For some reason that thought leaves a sinking feeling in your chest.

---

“Psst.” You groan as someone softly tugs your arm. You try to turn around, but there’s something digging in your back and you can’t quite get there. The tugging gets more persistent. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What?” you grumble, finally forcing yourself to open your eyes, and it’s only when you see Will’s face in front of you that you realize you’re not in your bed. You’re in a car, it’s pitch dark outside, and you’re standing in front of a lit up building.

“Snow storm is getting really, really bad,” Will says. “We have to stop for the night. It’s not safe to keep driving.”

You’re about to tell him to stop being such a baby, and you’ll drive, no problem, when you risk a glance out the window and see… nothing.

Literally, almost nothing. Just a big building, and some lights that could be from streetlights or UFOs, for all you know, because there’s a big blanket of white covering your sight. Snowflakes are streaming down in a curtain, and you can hear the wind howl around the car.

Okay, yeah, maybe it is unsafe to drive.

“Where are we?”

“Hotel,” Will says. “I checked, only hotel within 10 minutes of the highway. Pray that they have a room for us.”

He leaves you in the seat to wake up a bit more, and goes to get your luggage; he swings your bag over his shoulder and hauls his suitcase out of the trunk, and finally opens your door.

“Come on.”

You grab his hand and let him pull you out of the car, although you walk in front of him to enter the hotel. The woman behind the desk looks up as you open the door.

“Please close that behind you,” she says, friendly enough, “I swear if that cold comes in I might freeze, here.”

“Hi,” you say to her, “I know, it’s bad, right? We were hoping you have two rooms available for us, so we can escape the storm?”

The woman types something on her computer, then frowns. “I’m sorry, it’s very busy at the moment. Lots of people stopping in from the highway. I have one room left, if you’d like? Double bed.”

Oh, fuck. You’re not sure if you’ve quite wrapped your head around in, when Will chimes in next to you.

“Cool, we’ll take it.”

“We…” you start protesting, but Will raises an eyebrow and looks at you with so much attitude that it shuts you up.

“Would you rather freeze to death in a car?” he asks pointedly. “I’ll take the couch or the floor, or whatever, chill. I promise I won’t murder you in your sleep.”

Getting murdered is not what you’re worried about, to be honest. You’re worried that sharing a hotel room with Will is just gonna make these feelings in the pit of your stomach worse.

But there’s not really another option.

“Fine. We’ll take it.”

“You know,” Will chirps, when you’ve got the keycard and he’s taking the luggage up the stairs, “there’s a lot of girls that would kill to be forced to share a room with me.”

“That’s because they’ve only looked at your face, and don’t know your personality,” you drawl, and you know you’ve made a mistake when Will’s face lights up.

“You think I’ve got a pretty face?”

“Not what I said,” you answer quickly; too quickly, because Will is looking way too smug as he takes the keycard out of your hand and opens the hotel room door.

The room itself is nothing special. It’s small, but the bed looks comfortable and it’s warm, so you’ll take it.

“Shotgun on the bathroom,” you say as soon as you get in, and Will rolls his eyes but dutifully flops on the bed and starts typing on his phone while you find your toothbrush and disappear to the bathroom.

When you walk out, Will is laying sprawled over the bed, although he’s luckily still on top of the duvets. His hoodie has ridden up a bit and his sweatpants are – dangerously – low on his hips, so there’s a strip of skin showing.

Your mouth goes funnily dry, all of a sudden.

The thing is. You might not have wanted to be stuck in a hotel room with a guy you met at the airport only 2 days prior, but if it had to happen, Will is not a bad guy to be stuck with. He’s, objectively, very hot – you’re not blind – and he’s funny, and easy to talk to, and he’s been nothing but nice, even when you were a teeny tiny bit rude to him at the airport.

Did you mention he’s very hot?

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, jumping up from the bed.

While he’s doing that, you lay in bed and scroll through Instagram on your phone. Maybe you stalk Will on Instagram, only for a little bit, and you find a picture of him with his siblings that’s so cute it has you smiling at your phone.

“What are you smiling at?” Will’s voice surprises you so much that you drop your phone on your face with a yelp, and the sound of his laughter rings in your ears as you bury your red hot face into the pillow.

You hadn’t even heard him open the bathroom door again. Luckily, you don’t think he saw, but you lock your phone just in case.

Then, you look up, and if you thought you couldn’t be any redder in the face, boy were you wrong.

Because Will is wearing boxers, and nothing else. Now, you think to yourself, as you glance at him before shamefully returning your gaze to your hands, if you had a body like that, maybe you’d be more keen on showing it off too, but…

“You’re gonna be cold,” you tell him, and you can hear, more than see, his eye roll as he says:

“Okay, mom.” Then, he opens the closet and takes another duvet out. “I’ll be fine, I have this.” He grins a little cheekily, as if he fully knows what he’s doing to you. “Normally I sleep naked, but…”

“But not today,” you squeak, and he’s laughing again.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s getting to you, you throw the second pillow at his head and then roll to your side.

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight,” he answers softly. You listen as he potters around the room; probably tries to get his ‘bed’ for tonight as comfortable as possible. Finally, the lights click off.

You can’t sleep. You know it the second the lights are off, and Will’s breathing evens out. Your mind is going a million miles per hour and there’s so many things that happened, that you’re going to have to overthink before you can sleep. What’s not helping, either, is the fact that Will keeps tossing and turning.

You’re starting to feel a bit bad. You’re in a bed that’s big enough for two – maybe even three, it’s that big – and Will is laying on a cold, hard floor, with just one duvet and a pillow.

Outside, the wind is howling, and you know if you looked out the window the entire world would be covered in white. The room is warm enough, but you picture how there must be a draft, so close to the floor, and suddenly you can’t take it anymore.

It’s selfish, to make him sleep on the floor all because you’re worried about wanting things you can’t have.

“This is stupid,” you say, sitting up. “You should just sleep in the bed.”

For a second, it’s quiet. When Will speaks, he sounds unsure. “Are you sure? I mean, the floor isn’t great, but I don’t mind, I promise, if you’d rather not…”

“Look, we don’t have to, like, cuddle, or anything.” You can feel yourself blush but in the darkness of the room, there’s no way Will can see, so you keep talking. “You stay on your side, I’ll stay on my side, and it’s basically the same distance as having you on the floor. Just, the floor is cold, and uncomfortable, and there’s no need to…”

“Okay,” Will cuts you off, and he jumps up, duvet in hand. He’s grinning as he slides into the bed, curling the duvet around himself. “You don’t have to convince me, I was just being a gentleman.”

You snort. “Don’t do it again, it freaks me out.”

“You drive tomorrow, then,” Will hums, and it already feels better, to hear his voice right next to you instead of from somewhere at your feet. He sounds better, too; lighter, and more comfortable. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” you answer, finally closing your eyes.

“If I had to cross the country in a Kia during a snow storm with anyone from that airport, I’m glad it’s you.”

You think of what you were thinking before, and smile.

“Me too, Willy, me too.”

It’s quiet again, and Will’s breathing starts evening out. For some reason, you still can’t calm down: you try to match your breathing to his, but it’s too shallow and you can feel your heart beating in your chest.

“You’re fidgeting,” Will says then, his voice loud in the quiet room. Only then do you notice that you have been twisting the duvet between your fingers time and time again. Will goes to lay on his stomach and turns his head to you. “You okay? I can sleep on the f…”

“It’s not you,” you interrupt him. It is, of course, but not in the way he thinks.

“Okay,” Will says slowly. “Then what?” Before you can answer he reaches out and slowly wraps his hand around yours, causing your fingers to dis-attach from the duvet.

And, the thing is…

You could tell him to mind his business. You could tell him a lie, or something that’s kinda true but not the real reason.

Tomorrow, you’ll be in Calgary. On your dad’s couch, drinking hot chocolate. And Will is gonna be in his own house. And then after Christmas, you’re both flying back to Toronto, but you’re not stupid. Will is a famous, and really attractive, athlete. You just got out of another failed relationship. You’re not good at relationships, turn out; you don’t even know if you really believe in love, anymore, don’t know if you even think it’s worth it to try.

But right now, you’re here, and he’s here, and you swear you’re not imagining the way he looks at you, sometimes.

You’ve had to deal with cancelled planes, problems at work, a dumb ex boyfriend, and this stupid everlasting snow, ruining your life one day at a time. So, you might as well give yourself this one thing that you want.

“Or, it is you,” you say, and you can feel Will stiffen beside you. “But it’s not that I don’t want you in this bed with me. In fact, it’s kinda the opposite.”

You can feel your cheeks flush: you’re not good at this, don’t really know what to say.

But then Willy grins and suddenly he rolls around, his body now hovering over you as he pushes himself up on his forearms.

“So does that mean I finally get to kiss you?” he hums, and you answer by pressing your lips against his.

---

Hours later, you’re both naked, a mess of tangled limbs in sheets, and Will’s chest is rising and falling with every peaceful breath. You close your eyes and bury your face in his neck.

Outside, it snows, and it snows, and it snows.

---

You wish you could enjoy the next 10 hours.

First, you spend 2 hours getting showered and ready – it would’ve been a lot shorter if Will hadn’t slipped in the shower with you, so it’s his fault if you’re late – and then you have breakfast at the hotel while Will tells you more about his family.

His face lights up when he tell you which Christmas gifts he’s got for his siblings and it’s adorable.

Then, you drive. The final 6 hour drive, and it flies by so fast you would’ve believed it if someone said it was just 2. You drive the first few hours and then Will takes over for the last part, and you chat the whole way there.

At some point, Will starts singing along to Christmas songs, and you don’t even change the channel.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Will croons; you can’t help but laugh and then you’re both laughing and singing along at the top of your lungs.

You wish it never had to end.

“So,” says Will, “this is your street, huh?”

You decided he would drop you off and take care of returning the rental car, and you’re almost regretting that decision cause you would’ve liked those 20 extra minutes with him. However, you know that that is, objectively, insane, so you ignore the knives that are being ran through your heart when Will parks the car on the curb.

“Home, at last,” he says, softly. He’s not smiling anymore. “So, when we get back to Toronto, we should…”

“Don’t,” you interrupt softly. “We both know this is where it ends for us.”

At this, Will frowns. “It doesn’t have to.”

“Yes, it does.” You swallow heavily, try to get rid of the lump in your throat. It doesn’t feel right but it is, and you need to let it end here before you end up with hopes that will crash and burn and expectations that will never be met.

“What if I don’t want it to?” he asks quietly.

As much as Will might believe he wants to see you again – and you don’t doubt that he’s being truthful about that - it’s just not realistic.

People don’t meet the love of their life in an airport after a cancelled flight, don’t live together forever after long a cross-country drive, don’t live happily ever after after a snowed in hotel.

People do leave their husbands and kids the week before Christmas, they do cheat on you, they do break your heart.

Snow might make things seem more magical, but after all, it’s just frozen water.

“But I want that.”

Will’s face falls, his eyes sad and honest, but he nods slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks for the drive, then.”

His voice is distant, now, cold and impersonal: you know you deserve it but it hurts, anyway, and you scurry out of the car, take your suitcase out of the trunk.

You’re standing next to the car, ready to walk down the driveway, when the window opens.

Will’s head pops out, and he sends you what you think is meant to be a smile. It’s not a real one, and he still mostly just looks sad, but he’s trying, you think.

“I know December is a hard month for you, but I truly do hope it’s gonna get better. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The window closes and the car drives off, and something inside of you breaks.

“Merry Christmas, Will,” you whisper with tears in your eyes. You could’ve stood there for hours, but the front door opens.

“Y/N?” your dad’s voice calls. “I’m so glad you made it, you won’t believe the snow we’ve had…”

---

There’s a blanket on your lap as well as Snuggles – your dad’s cat – and you’re drinking tea while Elf plays on the television.

Your dad has been talking excitedly all through dinner, but now it’s quiet as he watches the movie. He seems happy, light, and it soothes something inside of you.

Sometimes you worry about him.

It’s not until the end credits roll that your dad turns to you. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks tentatively, and that’s all that you need to hear in order to break into tears. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, then takes your hand in his. “What happened?”

You have no idea where to start.

“Dad,” you whisper, “do you think you can die from a broken heart?”

Your dad smiles sadly, shakes his head. “If you could, I would’ve been gone by now, probably,” he jokes, but it doesn’t land. “Is this about that boyfriend of yours?”

And, well, the funny thing is, you haven’t told your dad about the break up, but it doesn’t even matter. Your heart is broken and it has nothing to do with your ex.

So you tell him about Will. You tell him about how you almost weren’t here, tell him about cancelled planes and one lone rental car, about how he went from Will to William Nylander right back to Will, about coffee breaks and sleeping on the side of the road and skating and the little kid who hurt his hand, about snow storms and a hotel room with one bed – not about anything else from that night, though – and finally you tell him about goodbye.

When it’s all said and done, your dad frowns. “You keep saying it had to end. But honey, it sounds like you really like this guy.”

You do, oh God, you do.

“Why would it have to end?”

You don’t say anything, but as always, he knows exactly what you mean.

“Just because it ended for your mom and I doesn’t mean it always has to end, you know. Sometimes it’s worth to try.” He pats your hand. “I think you should call him.”

And that’s when it hits you. It doesn’t really matter if you’d wanna call him.

You don’t even have his phone number.

---

“Y/N! Patient in room 11!” your colleague yells. “I’m going to the kid in room 4 if you need me!”

You sigh and throw down your clipboard. You have no idea why the hospital is so busy; it’s December 28th, which promises a disaster on New Years Eve, which is usually your busiest day of the year.

Fireworks, man.

You’ve been on your feet for 9 hours but you don’t even really mind. Just the thrill of working in a new hospital has been keeping you going; it might have something to do with the fact that this hospital will let you finish your residency, too. They called you the day after Christmas.

Some might call it somewhat of a Christmas miracle.

“I’m on it,” you call back, then start making your way to room 11. You nearly bump into the doctor you’re working with today, and she halts you by putting a hand on your arm.

“Are you a Leafs fan?” she asks.

It might be the weirdest thing someone has randomly asked you; the conversations you have had with this woman have ranged from “can you get me some blood from the vomiting boy” and “in what room do I find the catheters” and now she’s asking you about your sports teams?

Your heart clenches tightly as you think of Will.

“Not really,” you answers. That seems to be the right answer because the doctor smiles and waves towards the room, telling you to enter. You’re still confused by the whole exchange when you walk into the room and nearly trip over your own feet.

“Oh,” Will says slowly, “that’s quite a coincidence.”

It’s like your tongue has grown two sizes; you can’t speak, can’t even begin to think of what words to say, when suddenly you notice something.

“What the hell happened to you?”

There’s blood all over the hand he’s clutching to his chest, and his face is white as a ghost. Next to him is an equally pale guy wearing a Leafs sweater, who is staring at you with wide eyes.

“Uhm, I fell,” Will says sheepishly. “Turns out snow is quite slippery.”

It hasn’t snowed in Toronto in days.

“He didn’t fall in the snow,” the guy next to him grumbles. “I tried to wrestle the remote out of his hand and he fell into the Christmas tree and sliced his hand open with an ornament.”

“And Kappy has just promised to clean everything up, right, Kap?” Will asks with a sly smirk. Some of the color is returning to his face, which is more than you can say for his friend Kappy.

“Okay, well, let me have a look,” you mutter, and you gather some of your supplies before sitting next to the bed.

If you try very hard to avoid Will’s eyes and focus completely on the gash on his hand, that’s between you and the hospital room.

“So, first aid, huh?” Will asks. “Found a new job? Told you.” He sounds stupidly smug, so you raise your eyebrow and press the gauze to the wound. He inhales sharply. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to clean it,” you tell him sternly. “Sit still. God, Timmy was a better patient.”

“Hey,” Will protests, offended. “I’m a perfect patient.”

When you see how deep the wound is, you wonder how it’s possible that Will is still so chatty, and you also feel a little nauseous; it’s always different when it’s someone you care about.

“I’m gonna go get doctor Summers,” you say, and your voice is a little unsteady.

You’re probably imagining the edge of disappointment to Will’s voice when he says: “Yeah, okay.”

While doctor Summers examines Will’s hand, his eyes are fixed on you, and you keep yours fixed on your shoes. There’s so much you want to say to him, so much you want to do, but this is not the time or the place and also you have no idea how to start a conversation like that.

You tune back into the here and now when you hear the word “surgery.”

“It’s not a real surgery,” doctor Summers says, “I just think we need to set a bone and we also need to stitch up the muscles.”

Will is a little pale again as he nods.

You get send away to prepare the necessities for the procedure and when you come back, Will’s friend is gone.

“He’s gonna pick me up when I’m done,” says Will, who sees you looking. “Are you gonna… Are you gonna be here, while she does it?”

“Nope,” you answer, and this time you’re definitely not imagining the way his face falls. “Are you gonna get in trouble with the team for this?”

Will pulls a face. “I’ll probably get a stern talking to from Kyle.” When he sees your expression, he laughs. “My boss.” He sighs, looks out the window.

It’s started snowing, again, because apparently the universe loves taunting you.

“You know what the worst thing is? I ruined my tree.”

“That’s definitely not the worst part,” you roll your eyes. “It’s after Christmas, you should’ve probably taken it down anyway.”

“I couldn’t take it down yet,” says Will, his face completely serious, “there’s still one Christmas miracle I’m waiting for.”

He’s staring at you intently and you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

There’s no way he means…

But what if there is?

You make a decision then, and when Will is getting his hand worked on in a different room you run to the cafeteria.

“Hey,” you yell at the lady behind the counter. “I’m gonna borrow this for a second!”

She looks at you like you’re a crazy person and you can’t blame her: you’re literally standing in your scrubs, screaming at her from the middle of the cafeteria after having just yanked a tiny Christmas tree from the table.

“Okay?” she yells back, and it sounds more like a question than a blessing, but you take it and run anyway.

Room 11 is still empty; although Will’s coat is still lying on the bed, so he must be coming back. You take the tiny tree and put it on the bed side table, plug it in.

There’s only about 10 lights in the tree, but when you flick off the big lights, it still looks pretty Christmassy.

And so, you wait.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement; there’s every possibility in the world that Will has changed his mind since you last saw each other, and the last thing he wants is you confessing how much you like him in a hospital room after just having destroyed his hand, but you have to try.

Every time you think about bailing, you hear your dad’s voice in your head.

Sometimes it’s worth it to try.

This is one of those times.

“No strenuous activities, take it easy…” Finally you hear doctor Summers voice and you stand up.

The door opens tauntingly slowly, and there is Will. At first, his eyes widen as they catch the Christmas tree, and then his head swivels around and he sees you; a slow smile spreads across his face.

“A Christmas tree?” he asks.

“Well,” you smile, “you did say you wanted a Christmas miracle…”

“But you don’t like Christmas,” Will points out.

And that’s true, but…

You take a step closer and Will raises an eyebrow, questioning but not looking like he wants to run away.

“I don’t,” you admit. “I didn’t. But then something happened… Or, well, someone happened. And now I’m thinking that I might have to give Christmas a chance.” You’re standing right in front of Will, now, and he had all the time in the world to back off but he didn’t. Instead, he’s looking at you with an amused expression on his face, the corners of his mouth curled into a tentative smile.

“I think there might be a few things I have to give a chance,” you finish.

“God,” Will breathes. “I really hope you mean us.”

Instead of answering, you kiss him.

It feels somewhat familiar and yet as if you’ve never been kissed before: there’s fireworks in your stomach and everything feels warm and fuzzy, like nothing matters except for the feeling of Will’s lips on your lips, his chest pressed against yours.

“Y/N!” someone yells from the hallway, and you reluctantly pull away.

“I have to get back to work…”

“Okay,” Will whispers, pecks you cheek quickly. “But we’ll talk…”

“I’m done with work in an hour,” you interrupt.

Will nods. “I’ll tell Kappy he doesn’t have to pick me up.” He grins. “Unless you’d rather not drive in the snow?”

“Shut up,” you tell him, but it’s with nothing but fondness.

You’re already running to the hallway, ready to see the next patient, when you hear Will yell after you: “You said you hate snow!”

And that’s kinda true, but…

Sometimes, even if it messes up your plane, or gets you stuck in a snowstorm, or makes you fall on your ass…

You just have to let it snow.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #winter prompts #william nylander imagine #william nylander one shot #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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segenassefa · 4 years ago

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9: Why Gatekeeping is Ok (#FufuChallenge Discourse)

African restaurants in the U.S., while not as popular as their foreign counterparts, are not far and few between in states such as a D.C., New York, and Georgia having large African communities. In recent weeks, videos of people trying variations of fufu and stew have popped up seemingly out of nowhere, unknowingly creating a “trend” called the #FufuChallenge. While some of the reactions were positive, many of these videos were quite the opposite, in which individuals with little to no home training had the absolute gall to record themselves treating the food as if it were 50 Shades of Grey – including but not limited to spitting, slapping, tossing, and other things that are considered incredibly disrespectful.

Now, fufu is native to West Africa and made from boiled and pounded cassava. Different countries have their versions of the same food, give or take a few ingredients - banku, eba, ga’at, ugali, mofongo, and cornmeal coucou (fungi, for my VI people). As disclaimer – I am an adventurous eater, and the first time I tried fufu, I was a fan. I don’t think it’s a food that’s hard to enjoy flavour-wise, but I can see how the texture may not be agreeable for everyone. Additionally, being from a culture that eats with their hands, there’s a lot of etiquette that’s instilled in at a young age– the most important being that food is not a toy. However, the recent videos have sparked a debate about Black acceptance between different members of the diaspora.

It is interesting how, during a time of inclusivity and unification within the Black community, it is taking no more than pounded root vegetable for most of you to show your ass. I don’t feel like now is the time to remind Black Americans that some of “common” foods would be considered abhorrent to others – chitlins and pickled pig feet, we’re looking at you. Everyone is losing their mind over pounded cassava, but the idea of eating soggy cornmeal – also known as grits – is a normal phenomenon. We can also bring snack foods into this - hot pickles in a bag, Vienna sausages - but the point of this conversation is not to sit here and bash culinary history, but to make the argument clear that every culture has foods that others would find less than palatable.

In the same breath that we want to come together, fight systemic oppression, and be on some fake Marcus Garvey shit, people are referring to African food as disgusting, garbage, and even “dog food”. But you want to go back to Africa, right? Find your roots?

Have you all lost your damn minds?

Black people exist everywhere, and that inherently means that the techniques and methods of cooking we use are prevalent in a lot of other cultures. If you don’t believe me, take the time to Google Korean fried chicken and the fact that the idea of frying chicken in batter was introduced by Black soldiers stationed abroad in the 1940s and 1950s, or how gumbo and jambalaya are variants of traditional African foods, created using recipes that date back to slavery. So, there’s a chance that there are other foods across various cultures – including Black American meals - that resemble traditional African cuisine. Why don’t you drag those on social media as well?

More likely than not, before the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, this is probably the food that peoples’ ancestors were eating, and by reasonable conclusion, it’d be the food that OUR ancestors were eating. Additionally, there are so many other cultures with foods that can be turned into trend, so why was the Internet’s thought process to bully African people for no reason other than for laughs on social media? No, just traditional African food? Ok, noted.

Like ENNY said, please free my people from clout. PLEASE. I’m begging at this point.

And non-Black people have not escaped scrutiny either – so if you found yourself at a protest this year or have a cheeky little “BLM” in your bio, but you still found the time to degrade African culture on your timeline, I’m going to need you to go ahead and click backspace on your bio for me really quick, because the math is not math-ing. When it comes to other ethnic groups asking for parts of their culture to be respected and kept sacred, everyone wants to be quiet and listen, but when Black – specifically African people - ask for the same respect, people struggle to do so and are left with two options, or what they think are their only options – to, A, dismantle parts of Black culture to be co-opted and renamed to be acceptable to the white gaze or, B, label these things as disgusting and left at the mercy of Twitter think piece writers and Clubhouse podcasters who have nothing better to do than talk about things that they absolutely have no knowledge on.

Lastly, a LOT of foods from other cultures that are popular in the United States are not even authentic to that culture. To stand in front of a Taco Bell, or Panda Express, or Olive Garden and tell anyone that is your idea of eating “ethnic” food is not only a lie, but the curse of nationalism and Western closed-mindedness.

If you think our friends in Mexico are sitting down at their tables each night with a Crunch Wrap Supreme and Nacho Fries, you are highly mistaken, beloved.

But, with no empathy, authentic African culture has been co-opted as a sort of internet trend in which it’s acceptable to bash damn near an entire continent for food that takes immense labour and cultural knowledge to create successfully. And then, the people who posted their negative reviews actually had to sit, order the food, set it up, film themselves eating it, decide they didn’t like it, go back and edit the video – with their disrespect front and centre – and thought they could post it on the internet free of scrutiny. Like, we (as Americans) aren’t even eating traditional foods from other cultures to BEGIN with, so why was now the time to start, and why did you all start with African food?

Answer, and quickly.

There has always been tension within the Black community between Black Americans and the African diaspora, over feelings of perceived superiority and inferiority on both sides, and in all honesty, this is an argument I don’t subscribe to - at the end of the day, systemic racism does not care what flag you have in your bio, or how long you’ve lived in America – you’re Black, plain and simple.

But West Africans were not the first people who hopped on the internet and begged people to try their food, so the unwarranted opinions are more proof that maybe sometimes, it’s ok to gatekeep. And no one is begging for these reactions either or saying that you have to like it – if you’re not a fan, just nize it and maybe just…delete the video? Outside of the topic of respect also, the Internet is forever. So those of who you unabashedly are posting disrespect on the internet, think where this video will be circulating in a year or so.

Lastly, if you think Africans are blowing the response to the “fufu challenge” out of proportion, keep that same energy next time you see white women in box braids, rocking evil eye pendants, doing intricate henna on your timeline, or trying to lecture you about aligning your chakras, since it has now been established that disrespecting peoples’ culture is no more than acceptable social media discourse.

Be blessed!

#cms #blog post 9 #fufuchallenge #tik tok #twitter #instagram #africa

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dragons-bones · 5 years ago

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The White Vault Season Three Roundup

Posting this as the tenth and final episode of the season is now in public release!

So I listened to the early release of the season finale on Saturday, screamed a lot, and immediately sat down and re-listened to the whole season. The following post is being put behind a read more for both length and season-wide (finale included) spoilers and includes discussion and theorizing for season four, which Travis confirmed is the penultimate season. (IS IT OCTOBER YET.) Please DO NOT READ until you listen to the finale!

First and foremost, I was originally a little concerned that season three would end up hitting all of the same story beats as the first two seasons without anything new, particularly on the matter of the mystery: lots of puzzle pieces that still don't quite fit together. Arguably we still don't have any clear answers...but we have a lot more pieces that I think we're seeing the overall shape. There is definitely some sort of centuries-and-continents-spanning conspiracy, one dedicated to keeping the shadow monster(s) and totem monsters fed, or appeased, or something, along with the people and civilization that revolves around these creatures. We don't know the why, we don't know the how, but I am personally surprisingly at ease with not having anything answered at this point--honestly I am having an incredible amount of fun speculating in my own mind and reading other fans' takes on tumblr and reddit. Travis and Katie confirming we have a fourth and fifth season to finish telling the story gives me a lot of confidence, particularly since season four is going to take a vastly different tack than the first three seasons.

The Documentarian confirms in the opening of episode one that she had come into possession of the information she presents to whom we knew as of episode five to be Graham "Fuck You I Have A Shotgun" Casner just a few days ago. Episode ten confirms that the events of season three literally occurred within the last few weeks and Dr. Zhou "Fuck You I Have A Frying Pan" Liu, Dr. Josepha Guerrero, and Simon "Fuck You I Am Getting Off This Mountain If I Have To Tobogan Down It" Hall may still be alive up in the caves. I am practically frothing at the mouth with excitement because this really raises the stakes for next season, and while I'm more than certain the entire cast isn't making it out alive...enough might. And in this situation: the dangers are known by both the rescue party and the scientists; and the scientists are the kind who might be able to begin putting our puzzle pieces together, along with whatever the Documentarian acquires elsewhere.

I want to give an especial shoutout to Peter Lewis as Graham Casner. I remember when I first listened to The White Vault, I was a bit uncertain about his voicework: he has a very deliberate, almost stilted-sounding delivery as Graham. His performance really clicked for me when we got the segue ways of him narrating Russian journal entries into an English translation: his Russian, to my ear, sounds very smooth with no hesitation. My thought is, English isn't Graham's first language, and his measured way of speaking is how he ensures he organizes his thoughts properly to be understood. And just--his performance this season was SO GOOD. Especially in the finale, he sounded so raw and angry and just a little bit broken over the discovery that the body Dr. Liu and Dr. Guerrero found truly wasn't Dr. Ureta (I thought, in episode nine, that they're comment of "that's not Dr. Ureta" was more a metaphoric "that's not her anymore" based on what they knew of Simon's experience so far), but Rosa. Like. Holy shit. 10/10 Peter Lewis, godDAMN.

(Aside: props to all the voice actors this season. We really heard them come into their stride as the season progressed, but special props to: Danilo Battistini as Lucas, who showcased Lucas’s descent into (religious fervor inspired?) madness; Eric Nelsen as Simon, who got saddled with a lot of the technical archaeological talk and made it sound natural (really evident when you listen to the bloopers); and Diane Casanova as Eva, who did a fantastic job showing her dealing with the stress of the situation while still remaining snarky and defiant.)

And now to Rosa--who was, unquestionably, my favorite member of the Fristed expedition, so I was, in fact, yelling like a mad thing while my heart went icy and broken when the body was identified as hers. So, I remember reading in a post-episode speculation thread on reddit earlier in the season that maybe the tunnels between Svalbard and Patagonia were connected and this was the same shadow monster as the Fristed team encountered. I thought this was particularly far-fetched bullshit, but, uh apparently not? Good job, fellow speculator! You called it! Perhaps they're not physically connected (that stretches my suspension of disbelief beyond the breaking point, considering Svalbard and Patagonia are on literal opposite ends of the planet), but maybe it's a space-time distortion, and the deep caves between Svalbard and Patagonia (and Heilongjiang Province in northeastern China, and wherever else this strange civilization has pockets of activity) are linked via supernatural means. And a space-time distortion would explain why to Graham, it didn't seem too much time had passed for him in the tunnels before he found a way out, even though it was weeks if not months before he was located.

(Brief side note: definitely the Svalbard totem monster that got him, that strange walrus-like entity with the super-elongated phalanges. Also features in Artifact. That totem monster scares me and scares me deeply.)

So does this mean the shadow monster at Fristed and Piedra are the same, able to travel between locations depending on which ones have people near them? (SPOILER FOR ARTIFACT: it's implied there's more than one and they can "travel" via the totem animal artifacts END SPOILER) Does this mean we might see "Jonas" again? Oooooh, two shadow monsters, das bad, das really bad.

(Another brief side note, since I didn't do an episode nine roundup: the dark part of my mind that loves the creepy horror elements of this podcast was overjoyed at being slam-dunked right into the fucked-up-edness of the return of the still-beating heart and teeth in a stone box. Just. Good shit, lots of nightmares, jumping at shadows that night, S U P E R B.

...Wait, Rosa's is the first body actually found, even though we know the shadow monster killed her. Karina's, Walter's, and Carito's bodies never showed up, and we know their hearts and teeth ended up in the stone boxes. Does that mean Rosa's didn't? Is there specific significance to this?)

The sites do seem to be very different: China was a mountain village, most of the village open air with their private ritual rooms carved into the mountainside; Svalbard's might be under a glacier, and is an entire underground village, with its ritual sites buried beneath it; and Patagonia is less a proper village and more a winding system of living quarters and open public/ritual spaces. Svalbard is also currently the only one (that we know of, we have no information about the interior of the China site) using teeth to pave its stairs so, uh, take that as you will.

Teeth appear a lot. I have a thing about teeth, and yet The White Vault doesn't ping it? It's rather strange.

RAIMY. RAIMY YOU GO GET YOUR MAN. PROUD OF YOU, PLEASE DON'T DIE. (Honestly, though, I get the feeling if the shadow monster breathes anywhere in the general vicinity of Raimy, Simon will go batshit and beat the thing to death himself. He is injured but he is pissed.)

I continue to have low expectations about Eva's survival. That she got off the mountain is a surprise--stalked by the shadow monster, perhaps hoping she lures more people to the caves?--and that her 'infection' (excuse me as I continue to have flashbacks to Jane Prentiss in TMA Season One and cry uncontrollably because oh my gooooooooood) hasn't, y'know, gotten properly ugly yet. But goddamn I love her spirit, I love that she's so determined to get the rest of the team out. I WANT her to survive, but all the clues are pointing at REALLY BAD SHIT happening to her.

I remain deeply curious about whether or not Dr. Ureta’s previous trip to the Patagonia site is what primed her to be the first victim of the Piedra team. This might very well be something we don’t ever receive a proper answer to--sometimes some mysteries remain so, after all--but I do find it telling that we have very little of her personal thoughts, unlike the other members of the team (aside, of course, from Lucas).

Dr. Guerrero remains the loose end for me: Simon and Dr. Liu have both shown an utter lack of fucks to give about not letting this monster have them, but Dr. Guerrero was so tunnel-visioned on the science of the find that we notes and thoughts we have her don’t give us a conclusive enough picture about what to expect going forward. But we might end up surprised.

I’m very interested to see what Maheer and Dragana bring to the table: Maheer is obviously the Documentarian’s man because of a very nice paycheck, and Graham’s grumbling about Dragana’s prodding for details has me on alert mostly because Graham is my guy and he deserves a fucking nap and a vacation for all the shit he’s had to deal with.

The White Vault: Iluka is coming up this month on Patreon; I’m willing to bet this is what the Documentarian is preoccupied with while Graham and the rescue team head into the mountains. I’m really curious to see whether or not this might have anything to do with the events of the short Acquisition? I feel we’re due for that to come into play...

There is just. So much. So damn much.

IS IT OCTOBER YEEEEEEET.

#the white vault #spoilers #white vault spoilers #white vault episode 3.10

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sexyenquirer · 5 years ago

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Copper and Silver

Author: kiranatrix For: missmomentss Pairing/Characters: Beyond Birthday/L Lawliet Rating/warnings: M; mild smut Prompt: L/B mild smut Author’s notes: The prompt wasn’t very specific so I let my imagination wander. I didn’t want this to be the usual kind of L/B fic, so there’s no prison breakout or kidnapping or jam. This is a Magician AU that takes place in Paris in the late 1800s or early 1900s, where L is a famed illusionist and B is…an imposter. Or maybe it’s the reverse. ‘Copper and silver’ is the name of a magic trick, using coins.

—–

There had always been two types of magic in the world. One was quite real, but elusive, and more of a curse than a blessing on those who could channel it. The other was the magic of mankind– the sleight of hand or memory trick, the careful distraction and well-placed mirror. It was the business of the famed illusionist Lazarus, also (un)known as L Lawliet, that no one in his audience should ever know the difference.

He’d been selling out his shows across Europe for nearly a decade, and from the Thames to the Danube, just the name of Lazarus invoked an aura of mystery and awe. He’d been invited to most of the major courts to amuse the nobility of the continent despite his own very humble birth. Not that anyone knew anything true about his origins; L’s backstory as the exiled bastard son of a Russian prince was his most carefully cultivated illusion.

The vast majority of people who came to see him desperately wanted to believe in real magic to dull the edge of life’s mundane reality. This made them easy to fool with clever devices of his own invention. A lemon tree that seemed to grow from a seed before their eyes, sawing someone in half who was then put back together again unharmed, submerging himself in chains underwater only to escape at the last dramatic moment. Although each of his tricks did in fact have an explanation rooted in reality, competitors, skeptics, and scientists had all attempted to parse out the mechanisms to explain his illusions and all had left disappointed.

L had not always believed in ‘real’ magic himself, but he’d never needed to. There’d never been any odd phenomenon he couldn’t eventually provide with a reasonable explanation. He considered himself a man of science and rationality, not someone who was willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment. He knew he was brilliant, and no one could be a better skeptic than he was of his own performances. Thus, his performances were inscrutable perfection start to end, each trick a thread for the audience to weave their own pretty blindfold with.

But it took the eyes of a fake magician to know the real thing when he saw it, down a rainy street in Paris the afternoon before a show. He’d forgotten his umbrella, as usual, and had been darting from one sheltered overhang to another on his way back to his hotel when he saw a curious hand-painted board pointing down an oil lamp-lit alleyway. It was nearly as tall as he was, and upon it was was crudely scrawled:

~HAVE YOUR MISFORTUNES TOLD BY LAZARUS~

For one silver franc, the Incredible Lazarus will answer the following:

Your real and true name! (Great for orphans or just anyone who forgot!)

The day you will die! (Get your affairs in order!)

Whether anyone in a picture lives or is deceased, as well as their name! (Like deadbeat parents, runaway spouses, or people lost at sea!)

If you need a bath! (Free of charge!)

Guaranteed to be 100% accurate and true or twice your money back! (proof required)

Usually, L would roll his eyes at low-brow hucksters like this and be on his way, but this time was different. This time, someone had purloined his good name and was using it for cheap tricks! Anger and irritation bubbled up in him as he spied the queue to get into a door in the alley, but it was matched with a good dose of curiosity, too. Who in their right mind would so brazenly advertise these services when everyone knew the REAL Lazarus was in town and performing just down the street? The easy thing to do would be to announce at his own show later that this was just a fraud, an imitator, or simply ignore it altogether as the price of fame.

No, L needed to see this for himself, confront the man. He walked towards the door, ignoring the line-up and grabbing a newspaper out someone’s hand to use as a makeshift umbrella.

“Oi! I was reading that!” The man glared at L in surprise.

“I’ll return it shortly.”

“Wha, sopping wet?!” The man pointed to the back of the queue. “And the line starts back–” He cut off abruptly to catch something L tossed his way, gaping down at a gold coin. He tested it with his teeth, piping down after that.

When L got to the front of the line he announced, “Time for everyone to go home. This man is a fraud and not the true Lazarus. I am.”

“We’ve been waiting an hour or more! Prove it!” The rest of the people chanted ‘Prove it! Prove it’ until L held up a finger and suddenly, the rain stopped. Amid their awed silence, he deftly folded the wet newspaper into an origami crane which he perched on his hand. He blew on it and it caught fire, the flame changing from white to blue as it floated away down the alley. The crowd parted to let it pass and then broke into an uproar of clapping and cheers as it exploded into a burst of sparks in the shape of an L.

“How’d he do that?!”

“He MUST be the real Lazarus!”

L slouched forward slightly in an approximation of a bow. What had seemed like magic to them was nothing more than noticing a break in the clouds and improvising, and a bit of phosphorus dust artfully sprinkled from his ring onto the wet paper. “Now, if you’ll all check your pockets, I believe you’ll find tickets to my show tonight. I invite you all as my guests.” It wasn’t really in his nature to give things away for free, or to be so polite, but he’d learned when being the showman Lazarus versus L Lawliet would get him his way the quickest.

The man who’d had his newspaper snatched hung back a moment as the others meandered away, smiling and excited. He thumbed at the closed door behind L, “Another coin and I’ll give that fraud a thrashin’ for ya.”

“No.” L turned and opened the door, stepping aside quickly as a woman in tears bustled past him.

From further inside came the call, “Well, you asked!” followed by some soft cackling. “Next!”

L pressed a thumb to his bottom lip as he brushed aside a ratty tasseled curtain, his already large pupils widening to near blackness to adjust to the flickering candlelight. The darkness partially hid the ramshackle state of the room, and exotic-looking but cheap carpets were flung around to hide the rest. When he approached a table set in the middle of the room, L had to check that he wasn’t looking into a mirror. But no, his mirror image was seated and grinning like the cat that had caught the canary.

“There’s not going to be anyone else.” L climbed into the opposite chair, perching in it as he was his habit when he wasn’t performing. “I sent them away.” He quickly scrutinized the man, looking for flaws in the disguise. They were approximately the same age, mid-20s, of similar built and features, although artful makeup and posture must be contributing to the effect.

“Well, well, well…” Beyond Birthday gracefully moved into the same crouching position, mimicking each of L’s movements with precision but allowing his eyes to flick briefly above L’s head. “That was a very rude thing to do, don’t you think? I guess they all got soggy for nothing.”

“Stealing a person’s name and pretending to be them is what strikes me as rude.” L tilted his head, frowning when the imposter did the same.

“A man’s gotta eat.” Beyond’s grin didn’t falter as he modulated his voice closer to L’s timbre and pitch. “And I wasn’t stealing it so much as…borrowing it. I suppose you can have it back now.” He had what he wanted– L’s presence and undivided attention at last.

“I don’t appreciate it being stolen OR borrowed.” L squinted in the darkness, both unnerved and impressed by the exactness of this imitation. Fraud or not, this mysterious man had real skill in makeup and impersonation. “Who are you really?”

“Why I’m Lazarus of course! Didn’t you read the sign?” Beyond laughed at the annoyed look on L’s face, finally breaking his mimicry and lounging back in his patched armchair with a sigh, one leg thrown over the side. He stared for a moment then said with a flourish, “I’m a fan.” He twirled his fingers and produced a silver franc, letting it flip over his knuckles like the flow of water. “A performer like yourself, although not quite so famous. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.” He tossed the coin high into the air, but it didn’t come down again.

“And now that you have, will you kindly get lost?” Even as L said the words, he wasn’t sure he meant them. Something about this man was fascinating. And where did that damned coin go? He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing, and the man’s hands were both empty. “Cheap parlor trick. Open your mouth.” He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t seen the sleight of hand, even if he knew the coin must be there.

Beyond extended his tongue, revealing the coin sitting right on it. He spat it into a box containing a few more coins. “Very good. But of course I doubt I could stump the real Lazarus.”

The way those words were spoken sounded like a challenge to L, and he’d been here before. Countless other illusionists and street magicians had challenged him and become laughingstocks. “No, I doubt very much that you could.”

“Hmmm.” Beyond leaned forward, elbows on the table as he stared. “Would you give me the chance to try?” He kept his eyes on L but swiped his hand over the flames of the candelabra beside them, appearing to transfer one flame to his finger where it burned a moment before he blew it out.

“You dipped your nail in oil. It didn’t burn long enough to blacken it.” L raised an eyebrow when Beyond chuckled and nodded. “I hope you have better tricks than that.” He sincerely did hope that, because this was already more amusing than he’d expected, although his deadpan expression didn’t show it.

“Oh, I do. Such wonders as you’ve never seen before.” Beyond snapped his fingers, his nail aflame again, and he transferred the fire back to the dormant candle. “If I can’t stump you, I’ll ‘get lost’ and you’ll never hear from me again. Does that suit you? A little wager between magicians.”

“A wager?” L smiled for the first time since coming into this dismal hovel. “Just so you know, no one’s ever been able to stump me. I’ve seen it all.” He worried his lip with his thumb, unconsciously leaning forward, betraying his interest and excitement at a game. “Debunked them all and taken their tricks, improved them for my own.”

“You can’t take my tricks.” Beyond knew that for a fact. He was unique among all humans, if he was even human, in his abilities. “But I’d love to see you try.”

He traced his long fingernails over the battered table, watching L’s thumb brush back and forth across slightly parted lips and wishing to touch them. Yes, he was a ‘fan’ of Lazarus, but it was so much more than that. An obsession, a yearning to be Lazarus. It was so unfair that he, someone with real supernatural powers, should always be in the shadow of just a clever illusionist. Beyond had been L’s actual shadow for years, never making himself known as he followed in the wake of show after show. Trying to make enough money for cheap flophouses and tickets for every performance, hiding in the back of the balcony but watching with eyes where distance didn’t matter. And when there hadn’t been money, he’d stolen. When people had tried to hurt or rob him, he’d killed. Beyond had given everything for this one moment.

“You seem quite confident. In that case, what do you get if you manage to stump me?” L had zero expectations that anything like that could ever happen, but he wanted to be aware of the game’s rules.

Beyond pulled a deck of cards from his jacket and shuffled them in one hand, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and even as he held L’s gaze. Softly, “To be your apprentice.”

“My apprentice?” L laughed, letting his hands rest on top of his crouching knees. “Everyone knows I take no apprentices. I have no desire to train amateurs or tell my secrets.”

Beyond purred, “But do you desire to hear them? I can tell you secrets even you don’t know about yourself. Or ones you’ve desperately kept hidden from others.”

L was past being intrigued now, he was hooked. It didn’t help that the man’s languorous, cat-like body language was so very seductive, his gaze so intense. It was rare for L to find anyone with as much self-confidence as he had, and this man had a natural bravado that L had to work for on stage. In fact, the longer L looked, the more differences he noticed between them. The soft swell of muscles hidden beneath clothing slightly too large, hair of a silkier texture, eyes that were a pale blue instead of his own grey. He swallowed when his scrutiny was rewarded with a smirk. “I agree to your wager. But first, tell me your name.”

Beyond wet his lips and whispered, “No. But I’ll tell you yours.” He glanced down at the coin box seriously. “Pay the fee.”

L stared unblinking, unbelieving, but pulled out the same trick ‘gold’ coin he’d given the man in the street and taken back furtively.

When L tried to put it in the box, Beyond covered it with his hand. “No copper. The real thing.”

L’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand back, pocketing the trick coin and reluctantly flipping a real silver one into the box with a soft clink. He sighed, “So?”

Beyond smiled looked above L’s head once more, not that he hadn’t read these words a thousand times already. “L Lawliet. Although the pronunciation eludes me. Do you say it in the French way, mon cher?” He smiled and sounded it out a few ways, giving up with a little shrug.

L felt like his heart had stopped beating from the shock of what he’d heard. His mouth was agape, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. “How….” Absolutely no one knew his real name. He’d spent a small fortune to find it out himself, buried at the bottom of the rubble of the London workhouse for orphans he’d grown up in. His birth certificate, locked in a well-hidden safe at his house in Surrey, was the only document in existence with that name printed. That safe hadn’t been opened in 10 years.

“Ah! Are you stumped then?” Beyond eyed him greedily, breath coming quicker. He didn’t even need to declare he was right. He’d never been wrong, even when people tried to insist he was. The truth was always written on their faces.

“No! You…you must have hired a private investigator.” L’s brow knitted, because that didn’t make sense and he knew it. “Someone in London told you. ”

“Does it look like I have the funds to hire an investigator, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond gestured around at the bleak surroundings. “But if you remain unconvinced….show me a picture of someone. I’ll tell you their name as well, and if they live.” Telling L the day he would die was something else he could do, but what a morbid way to start a partnership. Plus, L had plenty of life left and no reason to believe him. Inclining his head to the box, “Pay the fee.”

L let out a shaky breath and reached into his coat to produce a cheap locket. His mother had given it to him at the workhouse before she’d died of pneumonia, and it contained pictures of his parents. He pried it open and laid it on the table, flipping another silver coin into the box. “Tell me about them.”

Beyond pulled the locket across the table and stared at the pictures of the man and woman inside. These were no Russian nobles, no princes. They were plain, simply-dressed folk who looked older than their probable years and had no death dates above their heads. “Martha Briggs, maiden name. Henry Lawliet. Both deceased.” He lifted his eyes to L’s as he slid the locket back. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” His fingers briefly brushed L’s and lingered before pulling away. “Your parents.”

“Yes.” L picked up the locket in pinched fingers and carefully put it back in his jacket. He’d never known his mother’s maiden name but all the rest was correct, although he had no idea how. He went quiet as he considered what to do. It was a first, being unable to discern the trick, and all the possible scenarios that cycled through his mind were dismissed just as fast. Only one actual explanation remained but he was loathe to say it. How could it be that?

“Have I won then, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond wasn’t sneering or gloating, but soft and sincere. He knew that all L had to do was refuse to keep his promise and all of this, everything he’d done to be in this room, would have been for nothing.

A long silence passed between them as they stared at one another across the table. “You have real magic.” L couldn’t keep the puzzlement off his face. He’d spent his whole life creating the illusion of magic in opulent ballrooms and the parlors of royalty, and had he finally found it buried in a rat hole? It was ironic and tragic that no one could tell the difference but him, but Lazarus. Who was the real fraud?

Beyond’s face crumpled, “Is that your answer then? Real magic?” No no no! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He’d never believed that a skeptic like L, who knew so many tricks and manmade artifices, would choose the most improbable answer. Unfortunately, it was also correct.

“Yes. That is my answer.”

Beyond made an angry, frustrated sound and leaped up from his chair but stopped in his tracks, floundering. He wanted to run but where would he go? The majority of his adolescence and adulthood had been focused on L, following L, trying to get close to L and failing. Now that he finally had his chance, he’d failed. He turned away and clutched his hair, whispering, “Correct. You win. I’ll leave Paris tonight and you’ll never hear from me again.”

L hummed to himself, uncurling from his crouch and slowly stepped closer to the distraught man. “Are you joking?” He touched the man’s shoulder, gently turning him around so they faced each other. “Do you think I’d walk away from real magic? You’re a unicorn.” L smiled and brushed the man’s cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. He’d never touched anything magical before and it thrilled him. “A unicorn that had to pretend to be a horse pretending to be a unicorn. But I can see it.”

The black kohl around Beyond’s eyes used to approximate L’s eyebags was smeared and running down his face, his blue eyes brighter for his tears. He gazed back at L in amazement, finally sniffling and giving him a little smile. “So does that make you a horse?” He leaned into L’s touch, eyes lidding and not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating now. “Or maybe just an ass.” Beyond’s eyes flew open as he realized what he’d said, but L was just laughing and nodding. “S-sorry, my mouth can run away with me and—”

“I’ve been called worse.” L’s fingertips traced along the man’s mouth, his heart hammering for a different reason. He wanted to know this magic, this man, and felt an electricity between them that only two of a kind could. “But I can’t call you ‘unicorn.’ What’s your name?”

“Beyond.” He whispered it reverently, closing his eyes and taking the chance to kiss L’s fingers at his lips. What did he have to lose now? His ‘trick’ was exposed. “Beyond Birthday. It’s a stupid name.”

L’s hand threaded into Beyond’s hair and the noise he was rewarded with made him shiver, made his pants uncomfortably tight. Was this feeling some kind of magic too? He’d never felt such a powerful attraction. “It’s a name that would look perfect next to mine on a poster.” Lazarus and Beyond….it had a certain ring to it. But you shouldn’t hide yourself under all this makeup.” He tentatively pressed closer, bending to kiss Beyond’s neck which tilted for him instinctively. “Hmm, we could work that into some good tricks, couldn’t we?” He pressed his hips against Beyond, smiling as he felt the man’s body jerk at the realization, the feeling. “Like swapping out coins, but…us.”

Beyond inhaled audibly, wrapping his arms around L’s body as he melted into this perfect dream. His idol, his everything, wanted him too? Accepted him? “But…” He quickly shrugged off his jacket when he felt L’s fingers start to unbutton his shirt. “…you said you don’t take apprentices.” He mentally cursed himself for not just shutting up. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this and not ruin everything?

L raised his head, “True, I don’t.” Before the stricken look on Beyond’s face could sink in, he added, “But I’d take a partner.” The voracious kiss that followed made L stumble back against the table edge with a grin, hidden pockets spilling their contents as their clothes were hastily pulled away. A trick wand clattered to the floor and bloomed into a rose, a crystal box of fireflies sprung open and let its luminescent prisoners flit about the room blinking.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” Beyond kissed him deeply again, lifting L onto the table. His hands caressed L’s body like he was afraid the man might break open too, releasing doubts and regrets, second thoughts. “Years I’ve waited to talk to you.” Beyond made magic for others, magic never happened for him. But those doubts didn’t come even when L did open for him, parting his legs and wrapping them around his waist.

L laid back against the table to gaze up at Beyond, amazed that he’d ever thought they looked alike now that they were naked and the makeup had been largely kissed and rubbed away. “I’ve waited all my life for magic.” He smiled and pulled Beyond closer, finally really understanding what his audience had been paying to see. It wasn’t just entertainment or amusement or distraction from their lives. It was hope that even if what was in front of them was only a horse, there might be a unicorn out there somewhere. “The real thing.”

#Fic #submission #kiranatrix #missmomentss #death note #L Lawliet #Beyond Birthday #ship: LxB #rating: m #20192020

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gunnerpalace · 5 years ago

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YourIchiRuki (Neapolitan Ice Cream): The BattleTech AU

SUMMARY

A very slow burn (500,000+ words just for setup) of Yoruichi, Ichigo, and Rukia trying to figure out how to deal with feelings and making a relationship work in a universe beset by war and political intrigue, as complicated by the fact that they are A. mercenaries, B. members of the nobility, and C. more than a little incredulous as to how they wound up in this mess in the first place, as set within a Bleach-y adaption of the BattleTech setting.

SETTING OVERVIEW

It is the year 3016. The Inner Sphere, a region approximately 1,000 light-years in diameter encompassing some 2 million stars and 2,000 inhabited planets, is split among five Successor States of the defunct Star League, each ruled by a Great House:

The Lyran Commonwealth, ruled by House Kuchiki

The Draconis Combine, ruled by House Shihōin

The Federated Suns, ruled by House Shiba

The Capellan Confederation, ruled by House Fujita

The Free Worlds League, ruled by House Hasegawa

The Periphery and Deep Periphery beyond their reach remain comparatively disorganized. Earth and the Sol System are ruled by ComStar, currently headed by Primus Sōsuke Aizen.

The Third Succession War, one in a series of conflicts waged nominally to restore the Star League, rages onward and is entering its 150th year. It is fought through all available means of combined arms warfare, but the premiere platform of the conflict is the BattleMech, an armored walking war machine piloted by a MechWarrior.

The young Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth, Byakuya Kuchiki (26) has come to learn of the acquisition by the Federated Suns of the so-called Halstead Collection, a trove of Star League-era documents recovered during a military strike against a Draconis Combine staging area that was under construction. Realizing that House Shiba is nearing completion of their New Avalon Institute of Science to study the collection, he devises a plot to infiltrate the institution and gain access whatever secrets might have been found.

The linchpin of his plot is the world of Edo[1], a massively developed commercial and industrial hub. The cosmopolitan nature of Edo provides an easy means of inserting an agent into the society of the Federated Suns who can assume the identity of a native and then work their way onto the staff of the NAIS without raising suspicions. To this end, Byakuya dispatches his "adopted" younger sister, Baroness[2] Rukia Kuchiki (22), on an infiltration and reconnaissance mission, in order that she might prove herself. She is afforded a BattleMech[3] painted in Draconis Combine livery for the sake of additional deception and self-defense should anything go wrong (the Draconis Combine long having had designs on Edo).

After analyzing available data, Rukia decides that the best method of completing her mission and winning his approval is to infiltrate through what she reasons to be the soft underbelly of Edo: its countryside (or what passes for one). She selects the relatively sleepy city of Karakura, on the continent of New Tama, as her entry point.

Unbeknownst to either of the Kuchiki siblings, or indeed anyone in the Federated Suns, this is exactly where a former Duke of the Federated Suns, Isshin Shiba (from a branch of the main Shiba line, and now going under the adopted surname of Kurosaki) chose to flee from his responsibilities and raise a family. Although his wife died tragically some years prior, his son Ichigo Kurosaki (21) is in college, while his daughters (and fraternal twins) Karin Kurosaki and Yuzu Kurosaki (16) are in high school.

Likewise an unknown factor is that Kisuke Urahara (29) and his mercenary company (the Urahara Wild Cards) are in the same place. They have been reduced to the sorry state of having only two pilots, his chief officer (and former Coordinator of the Draconis Combine!) Yoruichi Shihōin (28) and Tessai Tsukabishi (34), as a result of most of the others having decided to go their own way (to form a company of their own called Visored). His company is actively recruiting.

The stage is set for a most curious complex of circumstances to unfold...

INITIAL PLOT SUMMARY

The idea behind this is that, although the setting features mecha, war, and political shenanigans (especially what with at least three people from the Great Houses about), I really wanted to use that as a framework for developing interpersonal relations. So, the general gist of the timeline would be that it starts off sort of like Bleach.

Rukia shows up in Karakura and starts conducting her mission, but things quickly get out of hand. The canonical Federated Suns present themselves as being as honorable and democratic (or, at least as much so as an aristocratic system could be) but there are still vast wealth inequalities and social stratification in their lands, so my feeling is Rukia sees something or other which flips her chivalric and noblesse oblige switches, and she gets involved (eventually using her 'Mech), which draws the attention of the local military forces.

This results in a Fishbone D-style fight, which Ichigo and his family get dragged into. (Perhaps Rukia's 'Mech winds up being pushed into a residential area as she tries to retreat?) Rukia takes a hit to the cockpit while trying to shield Ichigo, getting injured by some shrapnel, mostly in her right arm. (Whoever she's fighting gets knocked down by her counterattack at the same time.) Ichigo clambers up into the cockpit (probably one side of it being torn open) to try and get to her, and finding her injured, decides he's got to fight in her place after getting her out of the ‘Mech[4].

Since he's the child of a Shiba, Isshin has probably subtly been training him to do something like pilot a 'Mech over time somehow, even if it wasn't obvious that's what it was training for. So, Ichigo is fairly naturally able to work with the 'Mech despite no prior official experience, and manages to take out the opposition without destroying the entire neighborhood in the process. He then passes out from heat exhaustion because Rukia's 'Mech is overheating and he doesn't have any kind of cooling gear on.

This is when Kisuke shows up (as in Bleach), having observed this battle from a distance and sensing an opportunity. He and his team scoop up Rukia and recover both her 'Mech and the Federated Suns one that continued pursuit, basically scouring the place for obvious evidence. Things go from there.

Ichigo wakes up the next morning in bed. Isshin, Yuzu, and Karin are fine (maybe they were knocked out through concussion or falling debris or being thrown against walls or something, but are alright; this is a bit handwavy but whatever, no one really cares that much) and seem to think it was a gas main explosion or something. The authorities are basically covering it up as exactly that. Ichigo remembers, but dismisses it as some kind of nightmare.

Until he meets Rukia on his college campus.

She's been patched up enough to be ambulatory but her arm needs time to recover and she can't pilot properly, and so she enlists Ichigo to help her with her infiltration mission by helping her with school and generally blending in and pretending to be a Federated Suns citizen. He refuses at first, but as she saved his life (and he is rather politically disaffected) and he finds there to be a charm in her notions of what honor and chivalry mean, he eventually comes around and grudgingly assists her. (It later turns out her 'Mech is in the care and repair of Kisuke, who is essentially billing her for the services and making her trade on token favors in the meantime.)

A month passes, much as in Bleach, with Rukia living out of Ichigo's room. During this time they converse quite a lot and grow close (as in Bleach and more especially its live action movie). Rukia comes to appreciate the comparative freedom of life in the Federated Suns (even compared to being a noble in the Lyran Commonwealth) and starts to genuinely doubt her mission and cause, finding them to be incompatible with how she interprets chivalry. During this time, she assists Ichigo in getting revenge on a criminal who was responsible for the death of his mother years prior (Grand Fisher equivalent, probably personal combat rather than a 'Mech fight). This is the final straw in her deciding to desert her mission and go native. She stops sending reports back to the Lyran Commonwealth.

Although Kisuke technically owns the Urahara Wild Cards, the reality of the situation is more complicated. He and Tessai were formerly retainers and subordinates of Yoruichi’s from her time as the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine; when she deserted her post to save them from certain execution (due to a convoluted conspiracy), they all wound up as dishonored ronin. Still, he shows her all due deference (if sometimes playfully) from their former lives. He prefers to take an administrative and executive role, leaving day-to-day operations to her, and logistical matters to Tessai.

It is around this time that Yoruichi returns from elsewhere on the planet, her own independent recruiting efforts in more populated areas not having yielded any results. Finding out what's been going on in her absence (with Kisuke having determined Isshin's real identity in the meantime), she's pretty stunned. (As the former leader of the Draconis Combine, finding out that both the sister of the Lyran Commonwealth's Archon and a plausible claimant to First Prince of the Federated Suns are present on such a world is pretty wild.) She joins Kisuke in taking an immediate interest in this situation, but takes care not to make her presence known around Ichigo or Rukia, reasoning at least the latter might be able to deduce who she is (or rather, used to be).

There is growing involvement from Ichigo's college friends and acquaintances (i.e., Chad, Uryuu, Orihime, Tatsuki) who get drawn into matters for personal reasons. (I'm leaning toward including them for contrast, use as sounding boards and interaction for the mains, additional pilots, and for side stories and subplots.) Of these, Uryuu might have his own (Light) 'Mech[5] already, with the Quincy perhaps being some sort of independence movement or armed militia group. (I find it debatable whether Keigo and Mizuiro should be included, but for once they rather plausibly could be.)

Another month passes, and Rukia decides it's time to leave, having come to reason that her mere presence puts Ichigo and everyone else in direct danger. Unfortunately for her, she is too late: shockingly, Byakuya himself arrives on Edo, along with a rising LCAF military commander, Renji Abarai, in order to retrieve her (again with Draconis Combine-styled 'Mechs). Byakuya has come to view her "failure" as a matter of personal honor.

This is where things start to diverge much more heavily from Bleach. Although Uryuu and Ichigo intervene, their ‘Mechs are no match for Renji's 'Mech[6], let alone Byakuya's[7]. All hope seems lost until Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Tessai deploy into battle in heavy and assault 'Mechs[8]. Suddenly outnumbered 2:5, Byakuya and Renji are forced to withdraw and retreat. However, this skirmish draws the attention of the local military much more heavily than even Rukia's initial actions.

The Urahara Wild Cards immediately make ready to leave the planet, and extend an offer to Ichigo, Rukia, and company to join them. Faced with little choice given the attention about to be brought to bear, Ichigo and Rukia choose to leave, prompting the others to join them too. (Rukia having already been prepared to leave, and Ichigo really not wanting to be apart from her but openly reasoning he was planning to leave home anyway after college. The others perhaps view it as more exciting and amenable than staying behind)

They all depart the planet and, after returning to Kisuke's orbiting DropShip (the Geta-Boshi[9], which is too large to make planetfall) soon also leave the system behind. Although Rukia initially finds the idea of becoming a mercenary distasteful for cultural reasons, a speech by Yoruichi[10], who chooses this moment to properly "introduce" herself, results in the six (or eight) deciding they might as well apply their skills as mercenaries under Kisuke's employ, bringing Urahara Wild Cards up to (at least) two full Lances worth of pilots.

The next several months are spent training and taking odd jobs. The young adults from Edo (Ichigo, Tatsuki, Chad, Orihime, and Uryuu [and maybe Keigo and Mizuiro]) come under the supervision of Yoruichi and Tessai for proper basic 'Mech training. Rukia, having received LCAF training, also gets roped into this as a co-instructor. Ichigo winds up being the star pupil of this program by virtue of his history, although Uryuu is not at all far behind.

They settle on a force structure that roughly balances out relative skill while still affording a strong main team and a good reserve team, yielding Alpha Lance (Yoruichi, Rukia, Ichigo, Chad) and Bravo Lance (Tessai, Uryuu, Tatsuki, Orihime). (If Keigo and Mizuiro are there, they're basically backbenchers until the Urahara Wild Cards get at least two more pilots[11] to form a third Lance, Charlie Lance, which would bring them up to Company strength.)

Rukia and Ichigo continue on much as they had before, on Edo. Although they both, along with everyone else, are issued fairly comfortable and private quarters (owing to the size and nature of the construction of the Geta-Boshi), more often than not Rukia chooses to spend her time in Ichigo's quarters, often falling asleep there. It relatively quickly becomes common for them to share a bed, although their relationship remains nebulous and unofficial; almost everyone else treats them as though they are a couple, but they remain very emotionally and personally intertwined rather than lovers.

The Ichigo-Yoruichi and Rukia-Yoruichi reactions are from the outset established on the basis of mutual respect, but as time goes on admiration, care, concern, and physical attraction start to creep into them. Ichigo winds up often getting additional training and instruction from both Yoruichi and Rukia, though more often from the former. He winds up becoming good friends with Yoruichi off-duty as much as on. They have sort of similar interests and approaches to things, and often wind up talking shop about hobbies or knowledge. Yoruichi and Rukia become fast friends due to a mutual background and lifestyle focus; although the Kuchiki and Shihōin are nominally bitter enemies, it turns out they have a lot more in common than it might first seem. They swap more advanced piloting techniques and train together frequently to keep each other sharp. They also spend time together when off-duty, and in the process also become closer with Tatsuki and Orihime, as there are relatively fewer women aboard the Geta-Boshi and the MechWarriors tend to stand apart from the ship's crew and the engineering staff.

A bunch of little incidents also take place that heighten their growing closeness. Two examples: 1. Ichigo winds up walking into Yoruichi's quarters to ask her a question and accidentally catches her in a state of undress; he retreats in (appreciative) embarrassment, but Yoruichi also realizes she doesn't mind that he saw anything. 2. Yoruichi, deducing during an R&R stop on a planet that Rukia is more than a little repressed, and inexperienced to the point of not even knowing how to please herself, offers to show her how as a fellow woman, then reveals she didn't know what she was doing either the first few times she tried.

If the initial time in Karakura were to take roughly 75 chapters (at about 4,000 words each), then this all would probably take at least another 75 chapters, and probably more.

Eventually, one evening Ichigo winds up joining Yoruichi at the only bar on the Geta-Boshi and they trade stories and talk about themselves and each other (although only he drinks). Yoruichi gradually realizes over the course of the evening that she enjoys the sense of connection they share, and that she genuinely finds him attractive, and has the sense that he feels the same about her. Although she's (very) well aware of Ichigo and Rukia's "not-a-relationship," she's also discerned they're not actually lovers, and although that leaves her a bit conflicted, she still chooses to act on her impulses, reasoning she's not doing anything wrong by pursuing him.

After they leave together, she gets him alone (in his 'Mech rather than in either of their quarters, not wanting to make it about power) and reveals her attraction toward him. Her understanding of her feelings is often physical, and she comes onto him, even though she knows that what she’s feeling isn’t purely lust; it’s something more emotionally meaningful and leaves her vulnerable, and the way she takes control of it is by being a bit forward. Ichigo has a kind of similar attraction and doesn’t fight her, having a sense of her perspective and emotions. They have sex, both wanting and needing it, but it’s not just that, and it’s great. Feeling awkward about just doing it and then going their separate ways, Ichigo goes back to her quarters with her, where (despite some innuendo) they probably just shower and fall asleep together (with maybe more in the early morning). This has been prototyped out as about two chapters.

Although Yoruichi initially only considered the idea of it as being a one-time thing, despite her feelings, it keeps occasionally happening over the next few weeks (maybe about every 3-5 days or so) as both of them enjoy the physical comfort of their connection, and the pillow talk afterward.

Meanwhile, Ichigo often spends his other nights finding Rukia asleep beside him, and starts to think about how deep his emotional connection to her is, and how comforting that is too. It leaves him more than a little conflicted and he starts to focus that feeling in on himself as he tries to figure out what to do.

POINTS OF DISCUSSION

This is where my sense of the plot becomes a bit less certain, and where I felt that input could be particularly insightful.

My sense is that Rukia, smart cookie that she is, would figure out what is going on very quickly. (Probably having a sense of it almost immediately, and piecing it together within a week.) Considering the undefined nature of her relationship with Ichigo, I don't think she'd be mad at him or upset with him. I do think it would also make her reflect on her feelings toward him, and together with her own growing recognition of her sexuality, would lead her to be curious and to want to try and have a physical connection with Ichigo too.

So, I think that she would prepare herself mentally and wait until a night when he was in his quarters, and make the first move. And Ichigo would not resist and quickly start to cooperate, wanting to make Rukia feel good. It'd be different between her and him than with him and Yoruichi, but just as intoxicating.

Probably the next morning, Rukia would slip out early and go to see Yoruichi to try and discuss things, having some sense of Ichigo's emotional turmoil and not wanting it to go on further.

I think they'd talk in Yoruichi’s quarters (as I don’t think Rukia would be intimidated by talking there), but they might also go somewhere private on the ship, maybe a kind of industrial or disused area as neutral ground.

Rukia would begin with just a frank admission of, "I've slept with Ichigo," not wanting to make the talk confrontational or anything.

Yoruichi would say something like, "Good. It's about time."

"That's all you have to say?" Rukia would be surprised more than anything.

Yoruichi might maneuver closer and get in her personal space, assessing her carefully and critically. Rukia might tense up a little but would hold her ground, not afraid.

Eventually Yoruichi gets closer still and leans in to just softly kiss her.

Rukia's stunned, then like, "What are you doing?!"

Yoruichi would pull back and consider her, then cross her arms over her chest as she looked away. She'd say something like, "I know you will, but make sure you take care of him," making it clear she approved.

Rukia would be stunned for a moment, giving Yoruichi the opportunity to begin to gently quiz her on the experience. Did she like it? Did Ichigo? Was it good? Where do they want to go with their relationship?

I think Rukia would see through it, and although she would answer, she would press Yoruichi on her own feelings. It would turn into a kind of Self-Sacrifice Olympics because Yoruichi would be willing to step aside, and Rukia feels bad about that because she can tell that it wasn't purely physical on Yoruichi's part, and back and forth.

They would talk through things for longer than they might have thought they would, with Rukia discerning Yoruichi's care for Ichigo and Yoruichi truly grasping how considerate Rukia is.

I think Rukia would be moved, personally, and she'd eventually return Yoruichi's initial smooch but for a different reason, to make it clear how heartfelt her respect was.

Now, of course, the goal here was to set this up together gradually, so I think that given their shared history to that point, Yoruichi would return it and it would turn into something more, more mutual and a bit handsy.

By the time they pulled apart and looked at one another, they'd both have expressions like, 'Well. What do we do now?'

I think it'd be Rukia who said, "We'll have to see what he says... together."

I don't think they would immediately become a trio from there, it'd be a lot rockier than that, with each having their doubts about the matter before them.

Ichigo would be worried that they were just doing this for his benefit and that he didn't deserve either of them. Rukia would be less confident in her newfound sexuality and lack of experience and might have a bi crisis (or recurrent bouts of it). Yoruichi would be secure in her sexuality but be worried about hurting them and how that could affect them all professionally (to the extent of even getting them all killed).

I also think it'd take them a fair amount of time to try anything all together, even just cuddling. So it'd be a drawn out process of discovery rather than them all just jumping into it. Movie nights, hanging out, going on dates in pairs and as a trio, and splitting off to take turns as duos (Rukia and Yoruichi at first having an understanding, and eventually taking the step of trying being with each other). It would probably take almost as much time to process through as it did to set up before they finally fully settled in together.

Meanwhile, the surrounding situation would also obviously be growing more complicated...

In addition to mercenary adventures and dealing with the continuing wrath of Byakuya and the Lyran Commonwealth, there is an even larger picture owing to the Third Succession War.

While, obviously, this does not slavishly follow BattleTech's history as it is, nor will it going forward, taking elements and using them seems prudent. In BattleTech canon, the Third Succession War ends in 3025 with the Lyran Commonwealth and Federated Suns signing a defensive pact (in 3022) which is ultimately designed to unify them (into the "Federated Commonwealth"). The Free World League, Draconis Combine, and Capellan Confederation then ink their own agreement to counterbalance the threat of this.

My feeling is that the FedCom pact could have an interesting basis in Ichigo and Rukia coming together (and, because I'm a basic and predictable bitch, Byakuya and Kuukaku getting involved), although Yoruichi's presence would make things more interesting and complicated. Regardless, I think that with three Great Houses being represented (by Yoruichi, Rukia, and Ichigo) the crew would wind up playing some sort of role in the Third Succession War's resolution.

Other characters can be integrated variously throughout in different ways as well.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Likely standing in for Robinson in the actual BattleTech setting. [2] Rukia's official title of nobility is quite low considering her relation at this time. [3] Rukia, operating on behalf of her brother, has a rare customized 'Mech: an FS9-H Firestarter with 3/4 of the Flamers replaced by Medium Lasers, changing its BV (2.0) from 694 to 883. The rear-facing Flamer is the one retained. This would give it decent staying combat power for something so light. Looks something like this. [4] In BattleTech, the Successor States lost the knowledge of many Star League-era technologies ("lostech"). One of them was cooling suits for MechWarriors; "typical" garb is instead a cooling jacket and as little clothing as possible, usually a sleeveless leotard. So this could be a kind of funny scene if that's kept. (How hard is it to turn a vest into a suit though...) This would make Yoruichi's preferred taste in attire in Bleach fairly normative, though. Alternatively, the standard could be more like what was envisioned in one of the latest video game adaptations. [5] Probably a bog-standard LCT-1V Locust, the most common sort around. Looks something like this. [6] Perhaps an HBK-4G Hunchback. Looks something like this. Renji can have an ugly 'Mech to start with. [7] I'm thinking of a stock VTR-9B Victor. Looks something like this. [8] I think Yoruichi might have a TDR-5SE Thunderbolt (looks), Kisuke might have a MAD-3R Marauder (looks), and Tessai might have a BLR-1G BattleMaster (looks). [9] Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Tessai have somehow found (and renamed) the Argo. [10] It's notable that the Draconis Combine hates mercenaries, so that Yoruichi is here (with Kisuke and Tessai) doing mercenary work also Says Something. [11] As I am constantly saying Fullbring should’ve been introduced early in Bleach, maybe they meet (and beat) rival mercenary group Xcution and take on the remnants (probably Jackie, Yukio, and Riruka) as pilots?

#YoruIchiRuki #OT3: Neapolitan Ice Cream

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