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patchofsunlight · 5 years ago

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Back to You | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Fire Lord Zuko falls in love with one of the Kyoshi Warriors sent to protect him. Thankfully, she falls in love with him too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k I wanted it to be shorter than Pretty Eyes and succeeded... kind of

WARNINGS: okay so there’s some kissing, some swear words, some obvious mutual pining, some frustration, and that’s it. it’s pure fluff ngl

I hope you all like it! I actually had a lot of fun writing this and I think it came out pretty nice. Also requests are open! Thank you for reading and here we go.

“Hey, Fire Lord, your date is here.”

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You can call me Zuko, and it is a diplomatic meeting, not a date.”

“You sure? He’s wearing such nice clothes. I can do your hair real quick if you want, get you ready and cute in like five minutes.”

“No, Y/N, thank you. You can let Ambassador Gamu in.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be just outside the door if you need me.”

“Of course.”

Zuko tried to ignore the cheeky blink the Kyoshi Warrior sent his way before leaving his office, a teasing grin adorning her painted face. When Suki told him she would bring the most experienced and talented of her warriors alongside her to protect him and serve as his guards, he definitely did not think he would have to deal with someone like Y/N.

He knew she was, for sure, a strong and intelligent fighter, being Suki’s second in command and impressively skillful with every single one of her weapons. He had watched her spar with her companions more than once and seeing Y/N fight never failed to take his breath away until his lungs were filled with only admiration and pride. However, one could call her less than professional, and her treating of the Fire Lord troubled most of the palace’s staff. And yet, to be honest, Zuko found it really hard to pretend he didn’t absolutely adore her.

Y/N felt like a breath of fresh air, like sunshine on a cloudy day, like seabreeze. He loved the way she always teased him and tried to make him laugh, loved the way she seemed to brighten up every room she walked into. Somehow she managed to bring joy to the same place he always associated with sadness and anger — every corner of the palace was happier with her around. That’s why he chose to keep her as his closest guard, even after every single one of his advisors told him time and time again to send the disrespectful Kyoshi Warrior away. Zuko knew he probably should, but he was slowly learning how to accept and cherish the things that made him feel like smiling, and Y/N was undoubtedly on that list.

He refused to admit how in love he was with her. He had convinced himself it was nothing but a crush, some sort of appreciation for her amazing fighting skills, but a small part of him knew that was not true. He had it bad for her and would kill a man to keep a smile on her face any day of the week.

“It is very good to know the Earth Kingdom is so willing to tighten its relationships with the Fire Nation, Ambassador Gamu. I hope I can assist you in every way possible to guarantee a brilliant future for all nations.”

The Earth Kingdom official smiled politely, “thank you very much, Fire Lord Zuko. Nevertheless, it is crucial you are made aware that not all our citizens are happy with the new… Arrangements between our countries. I heard you have had a similar problem here, haven’t you? I truly hope the Kyoshi Warriors have been good servants and protectors, sir.”

Zuko couldn’t help the upwards movement of his lips as he gazed at Y/N’s silhouette through the door crack. “They certainly have,” he watched her look behind her, probably feeling his stare, and grinned when she shot out her tongue at him in an amusing manner, “I am extremely grateful for having them here with me.”

-----

“Hey, Fire Lord, your date is here.”

He glanced up from his desk and furrowed his eyebrows at her, “it’s Zuko, and I don’t have any meetings scheduled for today.”

Y/N beamed and he was sure his heart did a somersault inside his chest, “I know! I was talking about me. I’m your date.”

He lightly blushed, “what?”

“Come on, Fire Lord, you’ve been working for hours on end. You need to take a break,” she scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment and thanked every spirit there was for the white paint hiding her reddened cheeks, “I thought we could take a walk around the palace, y’know? I’ll be beside you doing the whole protecting thing and you can rest a bit from the whole rebuilding the Fire Nation thing.”

Zuko hesitated, “I don’t know, Y/N. I really need to finish this,” he gestured to the awaiting letters and reports in front of him, “I can’t simply leave. I have obligations as Fire Lord and—”

“I’m aware of that,” she bit down on her lower lip teasingly and he couldn’t help but think about the inevitable gasps she would have earned if anyone else heard her interrupt him like that, “but you shouldn’t overwork yourself. Besides, I’m tired of standing around doing nothing. Please? It will be so fast no one will even notice you’re gone!”

He sighed, “Y/N…”

“Please, Zuko?”

It was probably the first time she had ever called him by his name. She knew how much he hated being called Fire Lord, only accepting it during important gatherings, assemblies or introductions, but insisted on calling him by that anyway. Zuko was absolutely sure she only did it to spite him and had to admit it was kind of endearing — he loved the small ways she found of constantly challenging him. However, he quickly learned he loved hearing her say his name a lot more.

He sat up suddenly, “five minutes.”

Y/N grinned so brightly he had to bit back his own smile, “fifteen!”

“This is not a negotiation. Five minutes and then I’ll come back to my duties as a leader.”

“Okay, okay. Ten minutes then.”

“What? No, I didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, Fire Lord. Fifteen it is.”

Zuko opened his mouth to oppose when he heard her chuckle in amusement before taking a hold of his arm and pulling him towards the gardens.

“We could feed the turtleducks, but I don’t really think that’s a good idea,” she chattered lightly, somewhat begrudgingly letting him walk arm in arm with her instead of keeping on dragging him around, “I already did that earlier today.”

He wrinkled his nose and stared at her with a silent question in his eyes, “why did you feed the turtleducks? We have people here to do that.”

“I know,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “but they are cute so I asked to feed them,” she threw him a smile, “I’m pretty sure they liked me.”

Zuko shook his head cheerfully and smiled back almost instantly, “Of course they did. How could they not?”

She turned her head to look at him so quickly he wondered how she didn’t get whiplash. The Kyoshi Warrior smirked, “are you flirting with me, Fire Lord?”

There was a tingling session going through his body as the color red creeped upon his neck, face and ears. Zuko wanted to say something smooth like “yes, I have been for a while, haven’t you noticed?” or “how could I not flirt with such a pretty lady like you?”, but he only managed to stutter, slightly panic, and then answer in a high-pitched voice, “what? No! What?”

Y/N lifted her free arm in surrender, trying not to laugh at his reaction, “alright, sorry for asking,” she smirked again before muttering, “I wouldn’t mind if you were, though.”

The Fire Lord’s eyes widened in surprise at her words, his tone now back to normal, “what do you mean?”

For some reason, his inquiry seemed to make her self-conscious of their conversation topic. Zuko wished for nothing more than to punch himself in the face. “It’s nothing. I was just joking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Great. Look, it’s been five minutes already!” she stared at her wrist so confidently he almost didn’t notice the lack of anything to actually check the time there. “You must go back to your Fire Lord things, right, Fire Lord?”

“We can still go see the turtleducks if you want?”

“Don’t worry! We can do that another time, when you’re not busy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. Hey, that’s Suki! I need to talk to her! Bye!”

“What? Y/N—”

“Bye, Fire Lord!”

Y/N was going absolutely crazy. When Suki first brought her to the Fire Nation to protect the so-called revolutionary and strong new Fire Lord, she had been skeptical. After all her years training and helping people around the nations with the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors, she couldn’t care less about the damn Fire Lord — she had spent a long time locked up after Azula and her stupid gang captured them and no new or old Fire Lord had come to their rescue. In conclusion, the bitch could catch on fire himself and be an On-Fire Lord for all she cared (she had spent too long thinking about that joke but that definitely did not matter), even though Suki had told her she knew the guy and that he was a great person or whatever.

Now she was biting her own tongue and trying to keep from flirting with him. In her defense, though, Zuko was a thousand times more good-looking and a billion times nicer than she expected him to be. She couldn’t help but always look for ways to make him smile, loving all his little quirks and habits, and suddenly found herself by his side a lot more than she needed to. She constantly acted as a personal guard, waiting outside his door during private meetings and accompanying him on walks, assemblies and gatherings in a somewhat intimate manner. She didn’t need to be right beside him the whole time — she could protect him from afar and maintain her distance like the other Kyoshi Warriors had chosen to, but Y/N simply didn’t want that. The stupid feelings she was slowly building towards the Fire Lord were dangerous at worst and annoying at best, constantly distracting her from her duties and responsibilities as Suki’s second in command.

It was infuriating, since love and relationships had never been really the type of stuff Y/N liked to partake in. She was good at fighting and giving witty responses and making jokes, but not at liking someone. Specially not liking Fire Lord Zuko, who was one of the most powerful people in the world and would certainly end up marrying some rich Fire Nation girl to guarantee a great and honorable successor to the throne or something like that.

When she finally went back to her individual palace room after a long day of trying not to embarrass herself in front of Zuko anymore and just all-around avoiding talking with him, she sat down before the mirror and started to take her facepaint off. That part of her routine, alongside putting on the paint in the mornings, had always felt like a ritual of sorts, calming her down and enabling her to let go of any unimportant worries.

Y/N let out a tired sigh, stared at her bare face and grinned. She might have fallen in love with the Fire Lord, but at least living in the palace allowed her to sneak into the kitchens in the middle of the night and steal some fruit tarts. She got up from her spot in front of the mirror and exited the room as quietly as possible, strongly believing that eating something would take her mind off the Fire Lord and his beautiful golden eyes.

-----

After another full hour of fruitlessly waiting for sleep, Zuko decided to put on an old cloak and walk around his palace. Pacing had always made wonders for helping him collect his thoughts and calm down from whatever it was that troubled him that day. It was not the first time he took on that habit and it would not be the last.

He honestly didn’t notice the person creeping up on him until he was pinned to a wall, an arm to his throat not pressing hard enough to hurt him, but enough to quicken his heartbeat. Zuko stared at the one responsible for the assault with confusion shining in his eyes, unable to recognize her without her greasepaint until she blinked and stepped back.

“Fire Lord?”

He widened his eyes, “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I was headed for the kitchens. What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“No. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“I see,” she nodded and yawned, averting her eyes from him, “you shouldn’t be out and about without a guard, tho. You know that.”

“I’m pretty capable of protecting myself, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He crossed his arms in defense, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want to go grab some snacks with me?”

“I—” he stared at her, for the first time seeing her blush under his gaze, “okay.”

“Great! Let’s go, Fire Lord.”

Zuko stayed quiet while they walked through the palace. He watched Y/N greet every single night servant they met on their way, earning big smiles and excited waves. For some reason, knowing how loved she was by his workers made his heart swell with pride. She would make an excellent Fire Queen someday. Or Fire Lady. Was there an official name for the Fire Lord’s wife? He couldn’t remember.

Zuko felt all the blood in his body drop to his feet when he noticed where his thoughts had wandered to. He shouldn’t think about Y/N as his wife — she was merely a protector, the help. He was not in love with her and therefore should not deliberate such things, not even by accident.

But he had never seen her bare faced before and he couldn’t help but take note of how alluring she was. He had always considered her pretty, but now he could really see her and she was so much more than just pretty.

“Come on, Fire Lord. I’m sure they have fruit tarts.”

He smiled as she sneaked inside the door to the kitchens, following soon after. In a matter of minutes they were sat before each other on the ground, sharing a bunch of fruit tarts Y/N had found hidden inside one of the cabinets. There was a comfortable silence surrounding them and Zuko appreciated how easy it was to be near her, without expectations or curious looks. Whenever he was next to the Kyoshi Warrior, he came close to forgetting his titles and obligations, satisfied with being simply who he was.

It felt nice.

“You look good with your hair down,” she announced suddenly, unaware of the thoughtful look on his face, “I like it.”

He felt his cheeks burn, “thank you, Y/N,” the young Fire Lord inhaled deeply to gather the courage necessary to express the response that came to mind, “you look good all the time.”

She stilled her movements with a fruit tart inches from her mouth, eyes blinking in surprise. After a tense moment, she grinned and lowered her arm, “do you really think so or are you just being nice?”

“I mean it, Y/N. You are… You are absolutely beautiful.”

The pair studied each other for a few instants, eyes sparkling with a breathtaking feeling both easily recognized but were not ready just yet to deal with. Y/N beamed at him, her face pink at the compliment. Zuko could feel his heart twist and turn inside his chest, butterflies flying in his stomach. “Why, thank you, Fire Lord. For the record, I have found you beautiful since I first saw you. I was expecting some rude and cranky old guy and there you were, with your pretty eyes and nervous smile. It was pleasant in a very surprising way.”

The Fire Lord was pretty sure she could hear his heartbeat as she leaned in almost subconsciously, her smile brightening up every small spot his eyes could see of the dark kitchen.

He was, indeed, very much in love with her, and there was no use in denying it, not while she averted her gaze to his lips and seemed to get closer and closer until their noses touched. Zuko’s breath hitched inside his throat as her lips ghosted his, eyes fluttering close before a loud bang sent them jumping in opposite directions, searching the source of the noise.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

The Kyoshi Warrior scratched her neck shyly, adamantly avoiding Zuko’s stare, “yes, Izum. How are you?”

The servant walked up to her with crossed arms, “I told you to stop invading the kitchens at night! You’re gonna put an end to our fruit tart stock, young lady.”

The Fire Lord watched the interaction curiously. Y/N and Izum smirked at each other as if they were old friends. “Well, if you don’t want me to steal your fruit tarts, you should maybe stop making the best fruit tarts in the entire universe.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, honey.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Fire Lord Zuko will be alerted about this.”

“I think he might already know.”

The young man seemed to finally notice Zuko’s presence, widening his eyes in surprise and bowing respectfully, “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there, it’s too dark and—”

“It’s fine, Izum, don’t worry. We’ll be off your kitchens in a second. Right, Y/N?”

“Of course,” she brushed the dust off her pants and walked to stand beside the Fire Lord, ignoring her friend’s raised brows, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will,” Izum looked from her to Zuko and then back to her, a teasing smile on his face when he greeted them goodbye, “good night, Y/N. Good night, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“How do you know him?” the Fire Lord asked after they left the kitchen, some sort of discomfort growing inside him at the way the Kyoshi Warrior had interacted with the servant.

“Oh, Izum is a good friend. He regrets deeply telling me where they keep the fruit tarts, but it’s too late now. We met during my first week here.”

“I see.”

“Let me take you back to your room, Fire Lord. It is already very late.”

Despite his unacknowledged jealousy, he wasn’t fast enough to bit back his smirk, “shouldn’t I be the one leading you to your room?”

“I am the guard, Zuko. I am the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, “right.”

“I can put you to bed if you want, I used to do that to my younger sibling sometimes.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

She threw her had back in laughter and he grinned.

They didn’t ever talk about what happened (or more accurately didn’t happen) during that dark night in the kitchens. Zuko was progressively busier with meetings and peace treaties, slowly putting the Fire Nation back in good rails. Y/N would routinely force him to take a break every once in a while, be it by leading him outside his office or taking his attention away from work and starting conversation.

Spirits, he was so in love with her.

It was during one of those breaks that one of her fellow Kyoshi Warriors knocked on his workroom’s door and entered with a nervous look on her face, nodding at him in respect before turning her attention to her friend, “Y/N?”

The young warrior smiled, “hey, Naya. Is everything alright?”

“Suki wants to speak with you. Privately.”

Y/N’s expression was instantly filled with worry and concentration. She gripped her katana tightly, walking towards the girl, “I want three warriors guarding the Fire Lord at all times, we are not taking chances regarding his safety. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“Good,” she turned to Zuko, her stone-cold face easing momentarily. She marched up to him with conviction before planting a kiss on his cheek that made his body burn with surprise and happiness. “Be careful, Fire Lord. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“I—I… I mean… I’m—” he kept on stuttering, unable to form an entire sentence with his feelings all over the place, “You… I—”

She smirked, walking away backwards, “see you, Zuko.”

Naya looked at him with a cheeky smile after Y/N left the room, crossing her arms and staring in a teasing manner. Zuko was still rooted into place, widened eyes and reddened cheeks watching the now closed door. “Are you alright, Fire Lord Zuko?”

“I—yeah. I am. Yes,” his tone was definitely not as certain as he wanted it to be, “of course.”

The girl giggled, “sure.”

The Fire Lord would only see his favorite guard again on the following day. She came to visit him in his office and had a gravity to her eyes that he was unfamiliar with, lips pressed together in determination.

“What happened?” he immediately asked, the letter he was working on quickly forgotten. “Are you okay?”

“There have been attacks to the warriors in Kyoshi Island,” she declared, “not everyone is happy with our new arrangements. People think Earth Kingdom fighters shouldn’t be helping the Fire Nation in any way.”

“Oh,” he managed to answer, anxiety building up inside him at her hardened expression. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Zuko,” she looked away from him, “but we can’t leave our companions to fend for themselves.”

He could feel his heartbeat pick up, “I see.”

“Suki is sending me back to Kyoshi Island,” Y/N confessed, a hint of sadness to her tone, “I’m her second in command and I should be there to help our warriors through this.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room, tension sparkling between the couple. He knew what that piece of information meant, knew what it would cause.

“You’re leaving.”

She softened almost instantly, taking a step closer to him and then hesitating, “no!” he stared and she sighed, “I mean, yes, but I’ll return when it’s over,” she looked at him with some sort of desperation, eagerly searching for something she couldn’t find, “when everything’s done and dealt with, I’ll return.”

Zuko nodded, a disheartening sting running through his chest, “I understand. Leaving is your duty as a leader.”

“I’m not leaving, Zuko,” another step, “I’ll come back. I’ll—” she hesitated, taking a final step towards him and reaching for his hand uncertainly, “I’ll come back to the Fire Nation,” she interlaced their fingers carefully, “I’ll come back to you.”

It was his turn to step closer, bringing his free hand up to her face and sighing when she leaned onto it, hopeful eyes shining at him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper, “will you?”

She chuckled sadly, moving to rest her forehead on his, staining his face with the white paint and rubbing circles alongside the back of his hand with her thumb, “I will. You are not getting rid of me this easily, Fire Lord.”

“Good. I didn’t want to.”

She smiled. On that exact moment, Suki opened the door and studied the scene before her with a bittersweet gaze, “Y/N, it’s time to go.”

His chest clenched in pain and distress, glancing from Suki to Y/N with anguish, “you are going now?”

The Kyoshi Warrior distanced herself from him and Zuko could’ve sworn he felt physical pain at the space between them, “I’ll come back, Zuko. I promise.”

-----

It was like he had a constant sunshine right beside him and now it was gone. He was pretty sure every single person in the palace had noticed the liking he had taken to moping around and staring sadly at the turtleducks, missing the one he had come to love. He thought his feelings for her would subside after her departure, but, oh dear, was he wrong. The deep ache that settled in his chest was enough to constantly remind him of how much he liked her, how much he missed her. Not having her around hurt so much that it became inconvenient, making it difficult to work and complete his responsibilities when he was constantly thinking about her safety and about what could have been if she had stayed just a little longer. Zuko thought they had finally reached the start of something new but she wasn’t here anymore and he would have to wait to find out.

Suki tried to report to him what was going on at Kyoshi Island whenever she could. Y/N was working hard to calm down the conflicts while at the same time training the new and old Kyoshi Warriors as well as possible. Suki told him it would take a while until things were okay enough for Y/N to return to the Fire Nation, but it would happen eventually.

He was so desperately in love it was embarrassing. He craved her presence, her voice, her laugh, her touch. He wondered if she felt the same and concluded that no, probably not. To be honest, however, he would accept anything coming from her, even some second-hand love. He would still be happy if she decided to settle for him after being made aware of his feelings.

The Fire Lord was adamant on telling her everything he felt when she came back — and she would come back, she had promised —, because being away from Y/N made him realize how much happier he was with her and he refused to let her leave again without knowing that he just absolutely adored her.

Meanwhile, Y/N felt incredibly overwhelmed. Between helping train the Kyoshi Warriors and trying to solve any misunderstanding with the Earth Kingdom citizens in a diplomatic way, she found it hard to breathe. It was somehow good, to be honest, because it didn’t leave her with much time to think about him. And, Spirits, did she think about him when she could. She was extremely excited to finally go back to the Fire Nation and just be by his side again.

There was a part of her that worried. Even though they had had multiple moments when she truly believed he felt the same, they never really spoke about it. Zuko didn’t seem the best at communication, and Y/N generally chose to joke around and tease instead of actually voicing her emotions.

“Miss Y/N, you must understand—”

“No, Mung, you and your so-called rebels are the ones who are not understanding. Fire Lord Zuko is trying to rebuild and strengthen the ties with Earth Kingdom in a healthy way for both nations—”

“But Miss Y/N—”

“—and the Kyoshi Warriors are collaborating with that by being a part of the official guard. How, for Spirits’ sake, is you attacking my warriors a good way of achieving anything you might want to achieve?”

The man swallowed harshly while he fidgeted. Y/N had worked hard to get a meeting with the rebels on Kyoshi Island, but was pleasantly surprised to notice how unorganized they were. “The Kyoshi Warriors shouldn’t collaborate with the Fire Nation, Miss Y/N,” a young man guarding the rebel leader’s door interrupted their staring contest, “the Fire Nation has done nothing but cause destruction and suffering. We won’t have our beloved warriors being corrupted by such a horrible mindset as the Fire Nation’s.”

“I appreciate your concern, but Zuko,” she cleared her throat in embarrassment at the verbal slip, “Fire Lord Zuko is different. He cares about people and he seeks redemption for Fire Nation’s wrongdoings. Having a good relationship with him is a great deal for the Earth Kingdom, believe me.”

The two men exchanged a look before returning their gaze to her. She tried to bit back a smile when she noticed the meaningful expression on their faces, signalizing she might finally be able to go home.

She tensed at the thought. Was that what Fire Nation was now? Home?

Or was she ready to admit the real home she had been thinking of was a certain Fire Lord all along?

-----

It was a hot day in the Fire Nation and Zuko was busy with his daily amount of sulking and missing his favorite girl when he heard a commotion going on somewhere near him. He confusedly followed the sound, finding the Kyoshi Warriors gathered around and talking loudly. The Fire Lord furrowed his brows.

“Is everything okay?” his voice quieted them down and he watched while the young fighters exchanged knowing looks. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Fire Lord, it did,” his heartbeat picked up immediately and he turned towards the voice he had fallen in love with, finding her dazzling smile. Y/N crossed her arms in a teasing manner, “told you I’d come back.”

Zuko stared at her while the other warriors scrambled towards somewhere else, aiming to leave the couple alone. He smirked, “you did tell me.”

She walked closer to him until they were chest to chest, and he wondered if she could feel his jumping heart against her, “I think I even made a promise.”

“You surely did.”

Y/N grinned, “well, then I guess—”

“I’m in love with you.”

This was not in his plans. He meant to say a lot of things about how he slowly fell for her during the months they spent together, but Zuko simply couldn’t help from blurting a confession out like a dumbass. He had craved being around her so much during these weeks apart and now she was finally there, just within reach. He couldn’t take any more dancing around each other.

She beamed, “that surely makes this less awkward.”

“Wait, what?”

Before he could wrap his head around her words, Y/N took a hold of his collar and pulled him to her, gazing at his lips as their noses touched, just like weeks ago in the kitchens. She smiled softly, eyes fluttering close, “I’m in love with you too, Fire Lord.”

“Oh, thank the fucking Spirits.”

The Kyoshi Warrior laughed against his mouth, sending a tingling sensation down his back. His hands held onto her waist, extinguishing any space between them before he kissed her deeply, relief and happiness flooding his senses all at once. His own personal sunshine was finally next to him again and he revelled from the pure warmth she provided, chasing all insecurities and fears away until only his love remained.

“I missed you,” he mumbled on her lips, so intoxicated by her presence he could have forgotten how to breathe.

He could literally feel her smile between kisses, “I missed you too, Zuko,” she moved slightly away so to be able to stare at his eyes, “but don’t you worry, Fire Lord. I’ll always come back to you.”

Zuko chuckled, “you’re so cheesy.”

“You love it. Can I be even cheesier?”

“Go ahead, pretty girl.”

“Hey, Fire Lord, your new permanent date is here, and she’s not leaving.”

“That was horrible, Y/N. But good to know.”

He attached his lips to hers again and, for the first time, Zuko didn’t have a single worry for the future or for his fate. For better or for worse, he had his favorite guard by his side, and that was enough.

ATLA taglist: @bottledcostcowater @officiallydarkgeek (for some reason I can’t tag you I’m sorry??) and @beifongsss and @azucanela I know you didn’t ask to be tagged but you didn’t seem to mind last time so here I am again?? if you don’t want to be tagged anymore just lmk!!

I hope you liked it!!

#atla #atla x reader #zuko x reader #zuko #zuko imagine #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #suki #zuko x fem!reader #zuko x f!reader #fire lord zuko #fire lord zuko x reader #suki x reader #kyoshi warriors #kyoshi warrior reader #this was kinda cute wasn't it #i'm lowkey proud of this #ngl

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foryoumyheroes · 5 years ago

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Otaku

[Bakugou + Todoroki] are in love with the anime character [Name].

A/N: Gender-neutral reader Crackish??

Bakugou Katsuki:

He’s sort of picky with the genre, be it fantasy, horror, shonen, but his favorite character has to be a super cool, super powerful one. No excuses.

You know, the type of anime character that’s probably introduced through a silhouette of them posing dramatically with their notorious group whose image is teased throughout the first few episodes/seasons.

He goes pretty hard for All Might, and he’s definitely the same for your character.

Reads the manga (but he buys it super secretly, like in a hoodie at night and the cashier probably thinks that they’re being robbed until he brings the entire [Series] collection to the register). Watches the anime the moment it’s broadcasted, reads metas and watches youtube videos that talk about conspiracies/analyses of your character.

NO ONE CAN KNOW THOUGH.

He’s taking his anime phase to the grave.

For some reason gets super aggressive when you’re being flirty or being shipped with another character?? He hates all the scenes that tease any potential romance between you and other characters. asdfgj He’s like, “No one is good enough for [Name]!!! Except for me.”

He even tries to think up ways he can legitimately square up with them LMAO. Like he wonders how he could defeat your potential S/Os in a fight but y’all are like ,,, anime characters SO WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER LOL

“Three-sword style?? Tch, I’d fucking blow that bastard to bits.”

“Who’s this Gaara of the Sand looking ass and why is the author getting so bold.”

He even tries to think of how well your abilities match up with his own Quirk, this dork.

THE LENGTHS HE WOULD GO FOR YOU.

If you were a real life person and your dislikes are lets say spicy food or loud, overbearing people, Bakugou would be like, “Tch I’m right, they’re wrong. Shut the fuck up!!!” But if his ultimate wifu/husbando has those dislikes he would be like, “Omg...😳😳 opposites attract...👉👈”

He honestly tries to be a low-key fan (as in, not be a fan at all to outsiders), but if one day during class Kaminari ends up saying that in [Series], you’re the weakest character in your group/squad, Bakugou would get super angry.

“Hey, Dunceface!! It’s so fucking obvious that you’re an anime-only fake fan, so don’t talk as if you know shit!”

Bakugou is those “um actually” ;; fans

Bakugou is a manga reader, so by the time your introduction scene or Ultimate Attack scene is being aired he becomes super OOC. He’s hyped for it for days, incredibly nervous at how the animators handle the scene.

By the time he watches it??

THE ANIMATION!! THE VOICE ACTING!! YOUR COOLNESS!!! PLS ORA ORA HIM IN THE CHEST!! HE’S BEGGING YOU! IF YOU’RE GOING TO UNISON RAID WITH ANYONE PLS LET IT BE HIM!!

He’s legitimately sweating buckets by the time the episode is over. A whole-ass fire hazard.

Probably knows how to play your character theme on the drums.

Omg but if your character dies/is hinted toward dying/or the most recent chapters ends with a cliffhanger where you’re fatally injured he will become legitimately depressed.

Like holes himself in his dorm room for a whole day without contacting anyone and with the blinds drawn type of depressed.

When he comes to class the next day with eye-bags and is slouching and his classmates think that something horrible has happened, it’s probably only Izuku who knows what’s going on.

He’ll say, “You’re upset about the most recent chapter of [Series], right? I know it must be hard for you right now.” He’ll give Bakugou an officially licensed rubber strap of your character and Bakugou will just ;; cradle it in his hands softly.

In complete seriousness, your character is probably someone who is strong physically, but publicly rallies for things like, “Failure is fine.” Your character arc would probably explore what it’s like being not good enough or feeling constantly disappointed, so he feels comfort in your character.

Todoroki Shoto:

In comparison to Bakugou, he’s probably a more low-key fan unintentionally, but goes just as hard.

Buys all of the merch, limited-edition or not, has your picture set as his phone lockscreen and homescreen, has a little acrylic charm of you on his phone, follows several fanartists that draw your character on social media. He buys enough merch that his room looks like a glorified shrine.

It’s canon that he reads manga, but I headcanon that he’s even less picky with his genres and willingly reads things like slice-of-life or shojo all the way to shonen or adult fantasy, so your anime could come from any possible story.

Your character is probably someone who is sweet and kind but has a traumatic character backstory.

He probably ends up thinking stuff like, “If [Name] was with me, I would never let them get treated like that.” asdhj he’s a dork too.

Unironically dramatically quotes you during battle and thinks that it’s still badass because he’s a teenage boy in his anime phase.

Doesn’t get into debates with people who don’t like your character. He’s like, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion :)) even though they’re wrong. >:(.”

If you’re from a sports/competition anime he’ll try to learn all of the rules, and even try it out for himself (if it’s not fighting) but he finds out that he’s... not very good at it. That doesn’t make him any less amazed though!

If your character is from a different culture with different customs and traditions, he’ll even learn more about them outside of your anime!

Forces his siblings to watch the anime with him. They don’t necessarily have to, but the Todoroki household has one big TV and he hogs it all the time watching your anime over and over.

Natsuo is begging him to watch something else and Shoto will just pout angrily from the other side of the couch.( ￣＾￣)

It’s so jarring because he doesn't look or appear like a hardcore anime fan, but sometimes he’ll just butt into conversations randomly and talk about you.

Like you know those tumblr Naruto posts that talk about it as if it’s some sort of Renaissance literature. That’s Todoroki.

[”Man, they’re so hot--!”

“You want to see someone hot?” Todoroki asks with a perfectly straight face, and he’ll just... turn his phone around and show them a picture of an anime character.]

When his dad tries to set him up with someone else: “You think they’re my type? Do they watch [Series]? Do they know what true friendship is?? Do they understand pining and love the way [Name] does?”

Endeavor: who the FUCK is [Name].

Gets into fanfiction because of your character and series. He’ll just be reading on his phone during break times at school and everyone thinks that he’s being so well-read but he’s just reading pure smut with a straight face.

Doesn’t mind when you’re shipped with other characters necessarily but he is super picky. If your character is hinted toward a potential romance with another character that’s pretty crass and doesn’t necessarily treat you well but you’re sticking together through the power of friendship, he won’t ship it.

He’s just like “[Name] would be so much happier with someone else like me.” :////

And if your character goes through something traumatic or terrible during the series he’ll be so sad, like soooo sad. :((( Deku would probably be comforting him on the couch in the common room and everyone is concerned because he looks like he’s mourning a lost pet, but it turns out to be over some anime character pshhhsdfh.

Deku would just be patting his shoulder trying to console him and Todoroki’s just sitting there with a big frown on his face going, [“But they’ve been through so much throughout the anime already...”

“I know, Todoroki-kun, I know...”

“The author can’t do that to them... It’s just not fair.”

“I get it,” Midoriya says mournfully.]

Plot twist: They like the same anime character

They’ll probably find out when they have to retake the license exam together.

Todoroki will just take his phone out during off times and Bakugou’s eyes looks over because it’s drawn by the noise but then his head just snaps to the side when he realizes its a little charm of you, like, he’s going to get whiplash from that.

“What the -- is that [Surname] [Name]?!”

Like they have never really hung out together before this, so when they both first realize that their favorite character of all time is [Name] they’re left ,, just standing there ,,, pointing at each other like the spiderman meme.

At first they’re both inwardly excited because FINALLY someone cultured and with taste. They spend the entire time talking about your stats, your attacks, your post-timeskip character design, and your personality, and then they delve a little bit deeper and then they realize ,,, oh.

Bakugou says that you don’t belong with the dumb protagonist, you should be shipped with someone strong, confident and loud, but Todoroki is like noooooo they deserve to be with someone that treats them gently.

They connect the dots.

[“Bakugou, you aren’t compatible with [Name]. It says so in their trivia page.”

“Says you! They won’t want some bland-ass pretty boy! They would want a real man!”]

They’re such fanboys ;;; they do realize that you aren’t real, right asdfghj?

One day Kaminari and Sero separately invite them to an anime convention, but they both say no and that they have plans or “something better to do” that day.

Then Bakugou and Todoroki both turn up to the convention at the same place because they both reach for the last limited edition [Name] figure and they just stare at each other wide-eyed (ʘoʘ╬) like that.

They start verbally fighting each other over the last figure and then physically fighting each other andddd then they get kicked out of the convention.

Izuku ends up swooping in and getting the last box.

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metalheddie · 4 years ago

Text

Are You Lonesome Tonight?

summary: Reader and Spencer's relationship is on the rocks, but they manage to work it out.

tw: light swearing, arguments

word count: 2.3k

genre: angst/fluff

a/n: This is a songfic after "Are you Lonesome Tonight" by Elvis! This one is honestly one of my favorites to write :0 and don't worry, it's not super sad, just a little :)(Reader goes by she/they)

This has been going on for far too long now. Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. They felt alone in their own lovers’ arms, he was like a stranger, a ghost of the man they once knew. They loved him still, so much, but he was distant and he never talked to them about the things he was obviously stressed or drained from.

Y/n just wanted to help him but he never gave them a chance to, they’re actively being pushed away and it’s a pain that they never thought they would experience in this lifetime. So they decide to talk to Spencer about it.

“Spence…?” She calls from his bedroom doorway. He’s sitting on his bed cross-legged surrounded by piles of books, and his head in his hands.

The case he had just gotten back from was a difficult one, to put it mildly. Teens held hostage by another student, who was a lot like Spencer. Too smart for his own good and always overlooked by his peers. He couldn’t save them all and it was eating him up inside. He didn’t look up from the page he was dwelling on. Re-reading and trying to fit all the pieces together that he missed. You hated seeing him like this. Broken and isolating himself, throwing himself into his work where he would eventually drown.

You walk over to the bed and place your hand on his knee. He flinches back away from your touch. He’s never done that before and it breaks your heart. You retract your hand and sit on the ottoman next to the bed. You both sit in the uncomfortable silence for a little while before you say,

“Spence… I know you’re having a difficult time right now, but I really think we should go on a walk or something, just to clear your head-”

“No, y/n. I’m fine. I don’t need your help right now. Just leave me be.” He said with venom in his voice. He’s never talked to you like that before, and it hurts like hell.

“I- ok I will, but Spence at least let me get you some water or something, please just let me help-” you tried to reason with him.

“I said get out! I don’t need you here!” he shouted. That was the last straw for you.

“Fine! I’ll leave you here for the next week and a half dwelling on all the things that you could have done when you should be trying to recover from all this. All you do is push people away when you’re upset and you never think of the consequences or the people you hurt in the process.”

You lost your cool then. All the pain you’ve been feeling for the past couple of months spilling out like a dam bursting.

“The BAU’s Golden boy who could do no wrong, huh? Well, I think that’s bull. Don’t call me until you put your big boy pants on and want to talk about what’s going with you.”

Y/n could see his jaw clenching so hard his teeth might split, but at that moment they could care less. She was done being the subject of his emotional whiplash. With that, you left with tears streaming down your face and a heart so heavy you thought you would collapse from the weight of it.

It’s been a week and 4 days since y/n has talked to Spencer. There hasn’t been a call, text, email… nothing. She misses him of course, but she has to stand her ground. It’s so difficult not being able to pick his big beautiful brain for ideas for her songs. Y/n realized she depended on him more than she thought. She wants to pick up the phone and call him so badly, to tell him that she’s sorry and that she went too far, but pride is holding her in an iron grip and it’s almost suffocating.

All y/n has been doing is working on their covers and desperately trying to find inspiration for their next song. They haven’t had any luck so far, their mind is too preoccupied with how Spencer is holding up after what happened that night. To try and distract themselves from their own mind, they put on their favorite oldies playlist and lay on their floor.

The first few chords of their favorite song play and then,

Are you lonesome tonight

Do you miss me tonight?

y/n closes their eyes and lets a few tears slip past their lashes. Oh, how they miss their lover so…

Spencer hasn’t left his apartment all weekend. Wading in the guilt he felt over hurting the most important person in his life. He hadn’t meant to snap at them like that...or any of the other times it happened over the last few months. He’s pacing his apartment trying to distract himself from his own mind.

On Monday as he walks into the bullpen, he tries to keep his microexpressions in check so the team doesn’t try to profile what he’s going through. All he wants to do is get his paperwork done and go home. To do what? He’s not sure, especially because his partner won’t be there with him. Just thinking about it like that makes him tear up. He’s eventually able to pull himself together with a few deep breaths, but not without Derek catching on at the last minute.

Derek looks up from his paperwork right as Spencer hangs his head in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Derek knows how private Spencer is when it comes to his love life, hell he’s only met his partner once the whole time they’ve been dating. He knows something’s wrong and he cares about the kid, so he walks up to him and says

“Hey, boy genius, what’s on your mind?”

Spencer turns to him, trying to keep it together. “Just thinking about this case….” He held up (what he thought to be) a random file.

“You sure about that, kid?” Derek said while reaching for said “file” which really turned out to be a loose page of his handheld calendar with a red heart around one of the days.

Derek only had to look at it for a moment to know exactly what was wrong. He was having relationship problems and suddenly he was floundering. Derek knew that feeling all too well, knowing that the job had put such a strain on his past relationships.

Spencer whips around and stares at the page, tears welling in his eyes that threaten to spill. He grabs at it and takes it back without a word. He’s embarrassed and upset and this day isn’t going as smoothly as he’d wished. Derek pulls up a chair and clears his throat to get his attention. Spencer turns to him with a look he can’t quite read. He says,

“Look, kid… I know relationships can be tough, especially in this line of work, but we have to push through the bad stuff to get to the good parts that we’ll remember forever.

Spencer sat in silence, contemplating his words.

“Do you love her?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes… A thousand times yes. When days and cases get really bad, she’s the only thing that keeps me going…” tears glistening in his hazel eyes.

Derek nods and leans forward. “Go to the place you think she might be… you mentioned she sings at that jazz club uptown right?”

Spencer nods, knowing where he’s going with this.

“Ok, so tonight you’ll go and see if she’s there.” Giving Spencer a small smile and pats him on the back.

He leaves for his desk and leaves Spencer alone with his thoughts once more. He would do anything to see his lover again...

---

That night Spencer found himself at the Black Rabbit Jazz Club, all by his lonesome. Sitting at the bar waiting for open mic night to start. He was replaying their fight over and over again in his mind when he heard the first chords of Y/n’s favorite Elvis song flow through the speakers. Then he heard it… The voice he’d come to know and love, filled with honey and gold.

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

He turns in his chair to see Y/n, in a sleek black cocktail dress with fishnets and 40’s style heels. She’s always had an affinity to dress to the club’s feel. Her hair is situated to frame her face beautifully and the spotlight she’s given makes her look like an angel, his angel.

Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

They’re scanning the crowd to find a spot, or someone, to focus on to pour their heart into. Suddenly a familiar face appears to them in the crowd.

Spencer

It takes everything in them not to jump off the stage and run to him. Instead, she chooses to pour her heart out to him the only way that would seem to fit, through song.

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

At this point, Spencer is in awe of his partner. Holding eye contact with her as she sings, knowing how much emotion is behind those words. He’s shed a few tears at this point, but she’s not finished.

She steps off the stage with the mic and walks through the tables and chairs in the audience gracefully. She says,

“I wonder if you're lonesome tonight, Fate had me playing in love with you as my sweetheart. Act one was when we met. I loved you at first glance,”

She was looking right at him now, baring her soul to him while he stared in awe into hers.

“You rambled your facts so cleverly and never missed a clue. Then came act two. Honey, you lied when you said you loved me, and I had no cause to doubt you. I'd rather go on hearing your lies, Than go on living without you.”

At this moment Y/n had let go just enough to let a single tear fall past her lashes, creating a faint trail of mascara with it. Though it was getting tough to hold it together, the show must go on.

“Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there, with emptiness all around, and if you won't come back to me then make them bring the curtain down.”

Spencer dropped his head to hide the tears falling from his eyes then. Seeing them so emotionally exposed in front of him like this was rare. Especially after putting up with so much.

By then Y/n had made their way back onto the middle of the stage and sang the ending lines of the song while staring at their lover.

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight…

She reached out to him as she sang, and as the ending chords played she placed her hand on her heart.

After the song ended there was roaring applause, for the performance and the show she put on as well. She thanked the audience and exited the stage. She made her way out the door and Spencer followed. He rushed after her so fast he barely missed her leaning on the brick exterior. She looked up at him, slightly startled. They gazed at each other, wondering who would make the first move. After about 2 minutes y/n reached for his hand, hoping he wouldn’t pull away.

He meets her halfway and they start on the walk home. It’s wordless, but there’s no negative energy, no tension to be felt. As they arrived at Spencer's apartment door he went to unlock it and y/n wrapped their hands around his waist and leaned their head on his spine. A subtle gesture to let him know that they loved him. After going inside and sitting on the couch together, Spencer finally speaks.

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for not being there when you need me, I’m sorry for putting my own insecurities and self-doubts before your feelings, and most of all I’m sorry for being selfish, y/n. You deserve so much more than being cast aside. I love you so much.”

y/n’s bottom lip quivered as she tried to hold herself together so she could speak too. She took a deep breath to calm herself and said

“I’m sorry too. I should have never said those things about you and your job. God, you're wonderful at what you do and I should have never used it against you like that. I was being stupid and I wasn’t thinking. Can you forgive me, even after all of that…?”

He took y/n’s hand and kissed the back of it, he pulled her in close for a tight hug and cuddled into her. She quietly cried into his shoulder as he whispered sweet affirmations in her ear to help her calm down. After a while, her breathing evened out and her sniffling stopped. She moved to be face to face with him and gently placed her hands on the side of his face and pulled him into the sweetest kiss he could have ever imagined. If she claimed her lips were made of honey, he wouldn't doubt her for a second. After a beat or 2, they pulled away and decided to order in and watch Doctor Who, and all was well.

Fin~

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #songfic #maddies fics <3 #boldlyreblog

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miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

Photo

Always.

“Truth” is just... I mean, I want to say “garbage” but that doesn’t even do how bad it is justice? Like, okay, I take four major issues with it (my followers be like: just four? :P):

First is the writing in general and the continuity of it all. This episode looks like it’s been through multiple drafts and the final product is an amalgamation of a bunch of them with no coherency between any of them. I already could kind of guess it from the Adrimi kiss that the finale removed, but it’s obvious that there were going to be Adrimi/Lukanette arcs in Season 4 but then stuff happened (i.e: the staff being cowards) and they got cut. It’s totally possible that the plot with Jagged Stone being the father and Marinette having to keep secrets from Luka were still the same episode even in the original draft, but I imagine it at least wasn’t episode one.

There are other, more subtle hints as well, like the episode giving no time to Luka learning that Jagged is his father (making the fandom wonder if Luka remembered when he was Truth) and Ladybug being shocked when she realizes that the akuma is Luka as if she didn’t already see him be akumatized. Juleka also gets weirdly sidelined in the episode despite being Luka’s twin (Astruc has stated that both Luka and Juleka are older and Juleka got held back, which is why she’s in Marinette’s grade but Luka isn’t), so she’s Jagged’s offspring as well. One might presume that Juleka just never cared at all but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be allowed to interact directly with the guy or have any involvement at all. All it would’ve taken is for Luka to mention that Juleka never cared about who their father was but he did, thereby implying that Juleka’s reaction to Jagged would probably be more like, “oh okay.”

You know, if they didn’t reduce her to incoherent mumbling.

Second is the timing of this episode. We had the New York special with Paris being destroyed, but it’s clearly fine here (so I guess it isn’t canon now; thank God honestly), and while it’s technically possible that enough time has passed (supported by the vague implication that Marinette having to miss out on dates with Luka has gone on for a while, given Tom and Sabine’s lack of reaction to them dating), it’s not supported by Marinette examining the Miracle Box as if she’s only just gotten it.

There’s also Shadow Moth, where we’re shown an extended version of the scene from the end of “Miracle Queen” where Gabriel repairs the peacock miraculous, giving the episode a “Volpina”->”The Collector” vibe but then why are the events lining up the way they do???

The narrative also does a really bad job at showing us why Marinette is so strapped for time. She has guardian duties now but you’d think it’d balance out with her not having to go to Fu anymore for guardian training (you know, that thing we never saw but was said to be happening or at least that it was Fu’s intent to have it happen). You could argue that maybe Shadow Moth is more active, but then Chat Noir should be affected by this too; Ladybug states outright that she’s been busy and Chat Noir responds with something akin to, “oh I know, because you’re guardian,” which implies that it’s her guardian duties keeping her busy and Shadow Moth is just interrupting her dates specifically.

But we don’t even see what responsibilities she has added on as guardian. I knew the writers would make it so her being guardian was a hassle, but it’s the first episode of the series and we’ve gotten next to no answers for what being guardian actually adds.

It’s almost like this was a rushed first episode to break up the only thing that unambiguously made Marinette happy for the sake of bringing the love square back and needlessly making her suffer because the writers think it’s hilarious.

Speaking of which, the third thing thing is the comedy because--just--I hate the comedy in this show.

Like, just to start, there’s the kwami, who clearly begin with their mob mentality from the later episode of “Furious Fu” and all proceed to act like children. No, I didn’t expect them to all be wise (I mean, Xuppu exists and is very much not that, having been implied to be a fit for Kim who is known for being a total himbo), but I don’t expect them to all scatter like they do. Kaalki in particular, who was shown to be more poised and refined, blatantly reveals herself to a bunch of civilians just for the sake of Marinette freaking out and needing to make up an excuse.

Same with Alya and her friends. Marinette is panicking because of the kwami and Alya “deduces” (while shading Marinette so blatantly that it’s insulting) that Adrien must be there in her house which--maybe don’t SAY THAT OUT LOUD in case Adrien is literally in her room???). Then Marinette gets a call from Luka, shouts his name, and the girls do a complete 180 in support of Lukentte. It’s not like I’m not for them supporting whatever Marinette wants to do, but the shift is so sudden (and contradicts “Frozer”) that it gave me whiplash and the entire scene ends up being pointless since the girls still go with the “Marinette is in love with Adrien” thing when Truth asks them what Marinette’s secret is. Like, we could’ve gotten small, stupid secrets that everyone thought only they knew about Marinette, but instead it’s just the same thing over and over again (which makes no sense since, by the time Alya blabs the secret - which Alya has already told Nino before anyway - it’s no longer a secret therefore making the answer invalid).

Heck, the whole “secret” thing could’ve even been the people Truth shoots finding ways of answering his questions in a way that is technically telling the truth but also not really, such as if Anarka had answered the, “Who’s my father?” question with, “someone you know/someone famous,” so as to avoid saying that it’s Jagged Stone. It’s just boring seeing characters answer with whatever the asker wants to hear instead of being able to find a way around it.

And then there’s Chat Noir, who’s just--ugh.

Like--okay, I’m going to be extremely petty for a moment and just go off because I hate Chat Noir’s role in this entire episode. The Season 3 finale went out of its way to have Chat Noir be all like, “I have a girlfriend,” when it was a lie, and then Season 4 just parkours around Ladybug telling him that she’s dating (Ladybug clearly took no issue with Chat Noir telling her he’s dating so it’s not like she’s worried about issues there; she’s gotten on his case before in episodes like “Startrain” so there are exceptions) because they want to keep having him flirt and not be sAd because this is Marinette’s episode of suffering and Chat Noir actually having to face the reality that Ladybug is dating (not just in love with someone else) would’ve actually been interesting. Chat Noir gets tons of unnecessary screentime in the episode - mostly for the show to shove in LadyNoir shipping fuel - and then actively avoids telling him the obvious thing because he would’ve actually been forced to grow/develop/stop flirting.

It would’ve been so cute and sweet to see him awkwardly trying to flirt without overstepping boundaries (so more like banter than flirt) or - you know - actually try to support Ladybug and want her to be able to finish her dates by him offering to keep akuma/sentimonsters busy, but no, he’s just left in the dark.

The finale had Chat Noir supporting her (terribly but I digress) and then doesn’t do anything with it at the start of Season 4, meaning his support of her was completely meaningless and just there.

His first appearance is him pranking Ladybug when she’s already overstressed and busy, which comes off as super poor taste and I’m both glad he got splatted into that window for it but also upset because it’s screentime completely gone to waste, and of course it’s just a lead up to him guilting her by being like, “nooo the only thing that hurts me is when you leave me alone during patrol!”

I know he’s teasing (...probably) but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth because we know (well, I knew because I know how this show works) that Luka and Marinette were going to break up because of Marinette’s hectic schedule, so it just comes off as insensitive to joke about it, especially when Ladybug’s busy guardian status just serves as a reminder that Fu is gone.

Even when he’s protecting Ladybug from Truth’s questions by cutting in and asking a question of his own, of course he asks about himself to forcibly fish compliments out of Ladybug because she can’t lie to him, and of course they have Ladybug compliment his humor most of all as if that trait hasn’t nearly gotten them in danger multiple times and she’s been repeatedly annoyed when he decides to joke during the worst possible times. It’s as if the writers wanted to pat themselves on the back for their own comedy, so they had Ladybug be a mouthpiece to stroke Chat Noir’s ego.

He claims he won’t force a truth out of her and then literally forces her to say what her favorite things about him are. I acknowledge that this can be seen as me nitpicking but we went from the finale where Chat Noir actually stepped up and took charge (because Ladybug was stressed but I guess him doing anything useful is just whenever it serves the plot) to this where he’s back to flirting constantly and jamming in as much LadyNoir shipping fuel as physically possible. It’s not that he’s useless but he’s annoying and takes up space in an episode that’s supposed to be about Luka and Marinette.

And that leads us into the fourth thing, which is the break-up and just the treatment of Luka and Marinette in general. I could go on and on about how the Season 3 finale built up their relationship just to tear it down in the first episode of Season 4, but that’s not the main issue here.

Luka brought Marinette comfort. He made her happy. He never judged her. He was happy to just date her regardless of any conflicted feelings she might have because hey, who is he to complain if she wants to give him a try and who knows what’ll happen?

And the season couldn’t even give one moment of them being unambiguously happy without ruining or interrupting it. I was ready for the break-up and I was even ready for it to be the first episode but I wasn’t ready for it to be so bad.

Marinette’s Adrien pictures appear out of nowhere (again, makes no sense for the timeline) when they’ve been gone for basically all of Season 3 and even “The Puppeteer 2″ specifically which makes a direct reference to “Troublemaker,” the episode that purposefully overdid it with her pictures (”Truth” has more hanging up and clearly used “Troublemaker” as a reference, by the way). They’re just there for force the love square and Adrien into the episode as much as possible to remind the audience that Adrien breathes. There is literally no purpose to any mention of Adrien and bringing him up isn’t even relevant to Marinette and Luka’s break-up.

It’s just upsetting to know that the umbrella scene from “Origins” (which is already flawed in and of itself) kickstarts this whole thing. Adrien did basically nothing there except for clear up a misunderstanding and give Marinette an umbrella when his ride was a few meters away and Marinette’s house was just across the street, but that actives Marinette’s absolutely crippling crush on him that lasts for 3-4 seasons. Marinette is in this eternal struggle of not being allowed to grow and change because the writers think her stammering/crushing on Adrien is funny while actively punishing her for having this crush in the first place (again, like in the scene with Alya, which insults Marinette for her crush when she wasn’t even panicking over her crush).

It’s the same with Luka, and I can’t believe that it took me until this episode to realize that he and Marinette are both treated the same way: tormented by episodes for having a crush on someone. Episodes will go out of their way to forcibly insert Adrien into the plot to both humiliate Marinette and make Luka feel awkward when the episode isn’t supposed to be about Adrien at all. “Truth” is just “Desperada 2.0″ except Adrien is barely on screen at all and they still felt the need to name drop him constantly. The writers are so sensitive to the idea of people jumping onto another ship or forgetting that Adrien exists that they’ll find any possible way to include him.

“Silencer” knew better. “Silencer” knew that Marinette’s life didn’t have to revolve around the mere mention of Adrien’s name and that she had other interests/desires/traits outside of him. Adrien isn’t brought up once and it was great because the show didn’t feel the need (for once) to throw Adrien into an episode that he had nothing to do with.

Even if I was a love square shipper, I would feel insulted by “Truth” because one half of my ship kept getting name dropped and used as a tool to humiliate the other half, which makes it all the more eyeroll-worthy when the love square stans of the fandom praise this episode for breaking Lukanette up when--oh, wait, they didn’t even break up “because Adrien.”

And that ends up being the real thing here. The writers had to invent a reason for Marinette and Luka to break up. We already know that Jagged Stone being Luka’s dad is a retcon (not technically in the show’s canon but in information we heard about outside of it), so they shoved in Luka having issues about not knowing his father specifically so that he would be pushed over the edge when Marinette couldn’t tell him about her being Ladybug.

When Luka and Marinette were just together and hanging out, Adrien wasn’t mentioned once. Say whatever about the Adrien pictures being on the wall and Marinette’s stammering (she always says stupid stuff when she panics - especially stuff she doesn’t mean - so I’m not upset with her so much as the writing for having her mess up in that specific way), but the only time Marinette talks about Adrien at all in the episode is when someone else brings him up.

She goes on a date with Luka to the cinema and they were having a great time without Adrien involved at all. I know I already stressed this point in a previous post, but one of the reasons that I find Lukanette to be so amazing is because the show actually focuses on Marinette’s interests and doesn’t force her to be the writer’s mouthpiece for gushing about their sunshine boy a punching bag for comedy. In every Lukanette scene that doesn’t bring up Adrien/before Adrien shows up, Marinette is either praised, able to be happy, or is showing one of her interests that isn’t aDrIeN, and whereas Adrien being on-screen around Marinette usually just means that she’s gushing about/stammering around him with no development, Lukanette features us actually learning more about Luka or other characters.

“Captain Hardrock” - lets her bond with Luka over a shared interest in Jagged Stone, and Luka is established as a sort of empath who uses music as a way to speak for himself

“Frozer” - gets to practice ice skating with Luka, who is actually good at ice skating and also can tie laces despite not tying his own because he’s a rebel

“Desperada” - gets to try out guitar with Luka and we learn that Luka has been playing guitar for as long as he can remember

“Silencer” - showcases Marinette’s interest in fashion and properly introduces Kitty Section; has a plot featuring all of them together doing something not even remotely love-related and we get actual confirmation of Luka’s crush on Marinette, along with Marinette’s reaction (blushy+happy; just saying, idk how anyone could watch “Silencer” and not think that Marinette was crushing on Luka)

“Heart Hunter” - Marinette gets a song written for/about her and Luka is established to have a job

“Truth” - brings up Lukanette’s shared interest in Jagged Stone, features Marinette’s interest in fashion when she gives him a gift she made + had Jagged Stone sign, and shows her raising her voice but not being judged by Luka for it, who’s happy with her just the way he is

When the show focuses on Lukanette, it’s all about lifting Marinette up, praising her, and making her feel good. When Adrien is involved or it’s hyper-fixating on Marinette’s crush on him, it’s about bringing her down and making her feel bad for a crush they keep forcing her to hold onto and humiliating her for.

Point being, the writers had to force their way into getting Lukanette broken up because of their precious love square and the fact that Marinette and Luka being happy is the opposite of what they want.

It’s embarrassing to watch a team full of old white guys (I’m convinced at this point that they just hang their female writer on a coat hanger so they can point to her whenever someone says that their staff is too male-dominated) treat their female biracial lead with such disrespect, and I can only presume that the mistreatment of Luka is because he’s supportive of her and they don’t like that, meaning that the way she’s treated ends up rubbing off on him.

It doesn’t come off as a fun or interesting plot; it comes off as cruel. When Adrien is sad, he usually gets people rushing to comfort him (”Party Crasher,” “Gamer”), but “Truth” has Marinette in tears over the fact that she can’t have a boyfriend due to being Ladybug and the writing has the gall to crack jokes about Kaalki not knowing what tears are, and then Marinette has to ask for the kwami to hug her for comfort.

When Luka gets akumatized into Truth, the episode doesn’t even hesitate at bashing away at him, from everyone saying that Marinette’s secret is that she “loves Adrien” (which, as Truth points out, isn’t a secret, and they could’ve had this somehow lead up to a twist ending where Marinette actually isn’t into Adrien anymore and the Adrien pictures were genuinely for reference, but she stammered about it because it was embarrassing that her boyfriend got sent it with no context) to one of Luka’s favorite songs actually being about how Jagged abandoned him to go on tour. Luka has to deal with Marinette ditching him constantly (not that I blame her) and not knowing who his father is despite wanting to know, and the episode treats him like trash for... what? Having a crush on a girl who’s secretly Ladybug? Because that’s all it seems to come down to in the end.

I also have serious gripes with the fact that Marinette has this huge schedule established in “Gamer 2.0″ and they don’t even try to explain why she can’t use it to keep track of her obligations. The episode has her say (in a roundabout way but still) that she’s forgetting stuff constantly because of all of her emergencies (the emergencies of which are not stated and I hate the subtle implication that forgetting something means you don’t care about it when that’s clearly not how things work and also not what Marinette comes off as because - again - they establish that she’s overworked) but fails to properly explain it. The episode hammers away at Marinette having all these issues and even has Tikki chide Marinette by asking her about leaving Luka alone while apparently neglecting the fact that Marinette HAS to go be Ladybug right now and what else is there to even do??

Both Luka and Marinette are punished for just having a crush and wanting to be together and I hate that the episode forces a break-up instead of coming up with a solution to the problem. Instead of “Marinette isn’t ready for a romantic relationship,” it feels more like she’s just not allowed to be happy.

Long-distance relationships are a thing. Relationships where people don’t get to go on dates frequently are a thing. Instead of forcing a break-up, the episode could’ve had a lesson/development where Marinette is told that she’s allowed to pursue a relationship and just needs to plan accordingly. but they just didn’t want to.

For example: instead of planning dates, Marinette could wait until an akuma/sentimonster is defeated to call Luka and ask him out, because Hawk Moth usually doesn’t strike immediately after one is dealt with. I’m positive that Luka would happily take impromptu/sudden dates over planned-but-inconsclusive ones. Heck, they don’t even have to date specifically and can just stick to phone calls (kwami can’t be picked up on technology) or hanging out in Marinette’s room/on Marinette’s balcony while they do their thing.

Relationships are a commitment, but that doesn’t mean they have to be a burden, and the episode absolutely drags Marinette over it. The whole thing with the kwami being released and stressing her out when they’re not supposed to be able to just come out normally is explained away by, “oh, the new box must be like you, Marinette; full of surprises!” when the reality is just that the show wants to take away everything that’s sacred to Marinette. The Season 3 finale had Fu’s letter telling Marinette that “life doesn’t always give you what you want, but the real gift is life itself,” then proceeds to turn Marinette’s life into a living hell.

Her room? She has to say good-bye to her privacy because now the kwami are always going to be around. The first thing one of them (Trixx) did was start reading her diary, showing that they have absolutely no shame or regard for Marinette’s feelings.

Her schedule? Conveniently pops away into the realm of non-existence so she can look bad for ditching Chat Noir on patrol and neglecting dates with Luka due to her responsibilities/stress.

Her boyfriend, the one person in the entire show who loved her, respected her agency, never judged her, actually apologized when he made her sad, and who she was genuinely in love with rather than just having the equivalent of a celebrity crush for? She had to break up with him because plot and needing to force her to go back to fawning over the guy who has only made her life worse by her crushing on him.

When I say the universe hates Marinette, this is what I mean. It created random akuma to attack Paris all for the sake of forcing Marinette away from Luka, and apparently didn’t realize what they were doing in the scene where Marinette hurries back to the Liberty when Kitty Section and Adrien are playing together when Adrien is Chat Noir so he should’ve been late too.

(Oh, and Marinette completely ignores Adrien in favor of waving at Luka and even tells Luka outright that Adrien isn’t even a factor in their relationship issues, further proving the “multiple drafts smashed together” and “the Adrien name drops are pointless” points.)

The whole thing in “Backwarder” where it was basically outright stated that Marianne could’ve been Fu’s confidant had Marianne not been outed by Ladybug’s mistake? Completely forgotten and left to the wayside. Marinette could’ve told Luka that she was watching the Miracle Box in Ladybug’s place (for any number of reasons, really: either Ladybug thinks it’s too dangerous to keep with her, or if the public doesn’t know that Ladybug is guardian, then Marinette can just say that she’s guardian) and that she has to run off to keep guard of the Miracle Box when an akuma/sentimonster happens in case Ladybug needs a miraculous.

Boom, done, episode solved. Luka gets to help Marinette with the kwami, Marinette is less stressed because someone knows half of her secret, and Luka and Marinette continue to date but are able to plan around akuma attacks.

But no. That whole thing in “Backwarder” where guardians (or at least Fu) can have a confidant was just there so Marinette could feel guilty about screwing it all up, because she’s not able to take advantage of that perk herself.

How convenient.

#category: salt #category: critique #episode: Truth #other: ml spoilers #other: ask and answer #((This is mostly incoherent because I am very tired.))#((''In general or at the episode--'' Yes.))

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peppertaemint · 3 years ago

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Controversial ask ahead, but I know you’ve never been a blog to avoid unpopular opinion so I’m coming to you with this one. I see a lot of Army praising RM for his statements at the las vegas concert and the vlive after. But all I’m getting from his statements is a bad case of whiplash. First at the end of the show he’s all like they don’t give a shit about the grammys and they’re in vegas for the concert and army and not for the grammys and they don’t care about haters. Which tbh comes across as a tiny bit arrogant and bitter to me but if that’s how he feels well ok then. But then he goes to vlive moping about the very same haters he just said he doesn’t care about and goes on about them always being underdogs (don’t see how that still rings true in 2022) and talks about having to work harder and go back to their roots and change their artistry or whats not to earn the grammy. I know people can have mixed responses to disappointment but I just feel like he should probably choose his public stance and stick with it? This being said, I love BTS and RM to death and this is in no way hate but it’s a criticism against their public response (or lack thereof) to certain things.

Hi Anon,

I meant to respond to his sooner because I did happen to catch his comments post-Grammy. I think that, realistically, his slightly contradictory stance is a symptom of the disappointment he must have been feeling. Anyone nominated who thought they had a shot at winning might feel varying degrees of disappointment. I'm sure I would. This seemed to mean a lot to him; everyone has a different take on awards and accolades.

Him sorta pretending like they weren't in Vegas because of that might be seen as disingenuous, but I think it's just a symptom of going through that mini-grief. He even admitted it to a degree from what I recall: I'm just saying that to make myself feel better. Well, yes you are and that's understandable in my view. Is it arrogant? Idk maybe but he's also a two-time grammy-nominated artist. You could say no one should expect to win but maybe he just... really did think it was in the bag? Idk.

The other stuff he said felt like a wild mish-mash of so many things many of us had assumed were happening, but him saying it all out loud just confirmed it. They did change their sound and saying, now, that they'll need to go back to their roots to win makes me wonder if he somehow didn't realize that going down this road chasing a US contemporary sound was never the way to go in the first place? I mean, profit-wise it was brilliant. People dine out on Billboard number ones for their entire lives if they play it right. I just find it hard to believe he didn't understand what the critical response would be to the direction they took, and how a certain section of their fans would feel.

Regarding him making an attempt to tell people to settle down on Twitter or wherever, I don't think it was too little too late even if in some ways it felt halfhearted. I wish the group did this more because their fans will listen to them. Not all, but most. They are the leaders and they set the tone. The whole scrappy, underdog narrative creates an us vs. them that ultimately no longer works. The group and the fans need to stop claiming the world as their enemy.

#RM #namjoon #bts asks #namjoon ask

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aftgandotherbooks · 4 years ago

Text

Father-Son Bonding

Kevin only knew about his mum from what he heard about Tetsuji telling him (which is almost nothing really) and barely remembers her himself. What’s worse is that he knows nothing about Wymack and his past. A few years after Kevin graduated, he decided to visit his dad for the Christmas holidays. Wymack was a man of habit and still lived in that one room apartment near Palmetto university, which meant that Kevin unfortunately had to sleep on the couch for the week. One night of an especially bad nightmare of Riko, Kevin moved to the kitchen to make coffee since he wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep again. Coincidentally it was also around the time Wymack usually wakes up to go out for his morning smoke. After a short and gruff “‘morning” *nod* “‘morning” *nod* exchange, both men headed out to the front porch. It was the long stretches of quiet that Kevin appreciated the most from being around his father. After spending years around people who always had something to gossip or complain about, the comfortable silences he shared with his father were a blessing. After an hour of bliss, Wymack looked over at Kevin and saw deep dark purple bags under his eyes and a surge of concern welled up in his gut. He cleared his throat and nudged his son’s shoulder, asking “couldn’t sleep?” Kevin, transfixed by the quiet morning air jumped at the sound of his father’s voice. “Yeah, um. Nightmare” he muttered, looking down at his hands that were fidgeting with the string of his pyjama pants. Wymack sighed and looked out onto the grass and birds singing their wake-up songs to the rest of the world. He nodded his head and looked back to his son. “That’s one thing that never seems to leave you alone. I had a bad one before you came. I could barely leave my bed for two days.” Wymack huffed. Kevin looked up to his father in shock. He always knew Wymack had a troublesome upbringing, but he never mentioned it. Of course, he knew something must have happened, otherwise the foxes and their reputation of ‘second-chances’ would have never even existed. However, Kevin would have never known his father was still affected by it to this day. As morbid as it sounded, it was comforting knowing that his father was struggling the same as him. Kevin had never asked about his dad’s past. Mostly because Wymack made an active effort to stay out of Kevin’s personal business after he graduated because the other Foxes had a tendency to go too far whenever Riko or the nest were mentioned. Kevin respected the fact that Wymack refused to be like that. But before that morning, Wymack never spoke of his own burdens. He barely spoke about Kevin’s mum, the pain of her absence too painful most of time for Kevin. That’s why Kevin asked “you don’t have to answer me but… what happened? Does it have something to do with mum?” Wymack was quiet for a few minutes. Kevin started to think that his dad would ignore the question altogether. But then with a quiet sigh, Wymack put out his cigarette and turned to face Kevin. “Look kid, I know you’ve been through too much shit in your life, and I wish there was a way that I could have known and stopped it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I knew you before Riko got his hands on you. The point is, I didn’t want to put more shit on you that you don’t need. But... I guess it’s only fair you know more about me. I am your dad afterall.” Kevin nodded, hearing the solemn tone Kevin was too familiar with. The same tone was used whenever Wymack was faced with another kid with a messed up childhood. Wymack then closed his eyes, breathed slowly and methodically and squeezed his hands into fists for a minute or two. It reminded Kevin of the breathing exercises Betsy taught him when he was plagued with the anxiety attacks that came with his sobriety. With a neutral and emotionless tone, Wymack started speaking. “I was in prison for a year before I met your mother.” Kevin’s face snapped to Wymack’s. He opened his mouth to say something when Wymack held up his finger to shut him up. Wymack continued speaking. “I had just turned 18 and thought it was a good idea to get in a car with my drunk best friend after we left a graduation party one of our other friends held t their house. I only had one drink that night, I didn’t see the point of drinking. My old man was in a shit mood that morning and would have punched and kicked me to hell and back if I came home 10 at night, drunk. I kept going on about how I should drive since I barely had anything to drink, but he was too stubborn and I just wanted to get home early enough. So, my friend ended up driving, and we were blasting music, all that typical stuff teens do when they’re young and too stupid to care. It only took a second of us not paying attention that a kid crossed the road to fetch a ball. What sane kid plays with a ball at ten at night?” Wymack rolled his eyes. “anyway, I saw the kid before my friend did and grabbed the wheel to swerve it to the opposite side the kid was on. It just so happened that the car swerved too far and the road was still slippery from the storm we had a few hours before. And can I just say kid, the moment the car swerved and smashed into the light pole I knew we were screwed.” Kevin’s eyes were starting to water. It wasn’t at all what he was expecting. His father went to prison? “My friend, Alex, he died on impact. He was on the side the pole smashed into. I only got away with a bruised right leg, a broken arm and severe whiplash. The kid was fine. It was actually his mom that called an ambulance for us. When I told the cops what happened, they said that even though I saved the kid, what I did was technically manslaughter. That’s why I was sent to prison. My sentence was way shorter though ‘cause I barely had alcohol in my system, and Alex was way over the limit, so he was at fault for the reckless driving. Plus, the fact that my intentions were to save the kid, not to kill-” Wymack took a shuddering breath. “Not to kill Alex.” Kevin grabbed his dads tight fist and squeezed it. “Dad, you don’t have to keep going”. Kevin said, he could see his father’s defences slowly crumbling. But Wymack, the stubborn and persistent old man he was, shook his head and kept going. “Prison was… prison. Not a fun place, and there were things that I would rather never think or talk about. And when I got out of prison, I had nowhere to go. My old man used my sentence as an excuse to stop speaking to me again. Useless pig he was probably celebrated the day I left. My mom, well she’s been dead since I was 13, breast cancer. I’ve always wondered what she would have done about it all. So, I had nowhere to go, and no one to run to. I was working at a run-down diner because that was the only place that would take in a fresh out of prison convict. It was just a few yards off from where your mom lived. Her and Tetsuji would meet up every Saturday at my diner to grab lunch and work on the specifics of how Exy should be played. I always tried to be the one who would serve her, and then we traded numbers and started talking. We got real close for a few years until she asked me to join her first trial team for Exy. She’s the one who got me a job at Palmetto when I told her I wanted to expand the sport to other universities. She gave me the chance to move forward in my life when no one else would.” Wymack opened his eyes and looked at Kevin again. “She reminds me so much of you kid. Every time I look at you I see her commitment and passion.” Kevin looked down to their hands again, and smiled a watery smile. “Thanks dad. All I ever wanted to do was make her proud of me.” Wymack huffed again and said “I’m sure she is… I know cause I sure am.”

A.N: I have no idea how the criminal system works. Nor do I know how long, or even if Wymack would have been charged. I also haven’t read the books since last year so my knowledge of Wymack’s history is limited to other fanfics, so if I got anything wrong, I’m sorry. This is just my interpretation of how Wymack’s character and his personality were formed :)

#aftg #aftg fic #aftg headcanon #aftg headcannons #aftg headcanons #david wymack #coach wymack #Wymack #kevin day #kevin & wymack #bonding #riko moriyama #neil josten #andrew minyard #the foxes #taans headcannons

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inklingofadream · 4 years ago

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Hey for some reason I am thinking once again of your scenario where the Eye loves Jon and is jealous of Martin and so it indoctrinates Jon's new polycult with Anti-Martin Propaganda to show them Martin must be kept away from the Jon at all costs. Do you feel up to sharing some Anti-Martin talking points courtesy of the Eye?

cw for discussions of domestic abuse: lies about it happening between Jon and Martin and the manipulative, controlling actuality of any of the Eye/Jon verses

so if i had any video/audio/whatever editing skills i'd spend way too much time making the evil anti-martin clip show, but a lot of it is the bits where martin's a bit mean to jon without the context or jon's response.

most of this period takes place with jon unconscious, having himself a little coma to recover from all the apocalypse whiplash and stabbing, so by the time jon himself can express any opinion about any of this, everyone's formed very solid ideas of what his Terrible Boyfriend Martin was like, and they're all really sure that it was a situation where jon was being abused and couldn't see it. obviously jon's going to be resistant to the idea at first- they have all kinds of statistics to "explain" why jon's still attached to the idea of Martin, instead of being glad he's dead because martin was The Worst and jon was trapped with him.* stuff like how most ppl have to make multiple attempts before successfully leaving an abusive partner. obviously when jon starts healing from his Martin Trauma he'll Understand

[*completely unrelated tangent, but yesterday i was looking on the wikipedia page for "Faked death," and their list of notable incidents includes this passage:

Timothy Dexter was an eccentric 18th-century New England businessman probably best known for his punctuationless book A Pickle for the Knowing Ones or Plain Truth in a Homespun Dress. However, he is also known for having faked his own death to see how people would react. His wife did not shed any tears at the wake, and as a result he caned her for not being sufficiently saddened at his passing

like geez bud i wonder why she wasn't sad about you dying!]

anything that happens on tape is fair game, with special emphasis on the scenes of jon showing up in s4 like "martin my beloved 🥺" and martin giving him the brush off- jon asking to elope is NOT included, because it implies an agency for jon in the getting-away-from-the-eye thing that's detrimental to the narrative. martin luring jon away from his patron is a talking point, all the little things he expresses discomfort with during s5

a big one is the "plz don't look in my brain" thing, because while that's a p normal and reasonable request usually, why would any of you, beloved jon harem followers of the eye, want to keep your thoughts from jon? Inconceivable! Jail for Martin for one thousand years!

Also, since a decent segment of ppl who end up Eye-inclined are the kind who go into academia and the like, or who at least value that construct, lotta emphasis on how unworthy of jon martin is bc he's a dropout and has never accomplished anything with his life, framing him as like. the stereotypical basement dweller, almost. like he's coasting (jon is SO OFFENDED on martin's behalf about this in particular)

martin lured jon into the lonely and jon was lucky to make it out alive! you could have lost the archivist before he was ever even in your universe! gasp! (who arranged this affair you ask? who benefited? don't worry about it, not the eye, the eye was horrified, we promise)

And a special, starring role for the clip of Jon in Night Night, where Jon's going to keep going with the statement and Martin asks him to stop, but edited down to just "Thank you for not hitting me this time" and the heavy breathing after. It makes all the new Eyevatars absolutely berserk. You HIT the archivist??? you hit the archivist often enough he thinks he needs to THANK you for not??? etc

The version the new eyevatars are getting is basically like. you know those relationship advice reddit posts that go around, where sometimes you can and sometimes you can't tell that the op is twisting around everything to make themselves look as sympathetic as possible? Like, there was a recent one abt "what do i do about my wife trying to use magic on me" that notably left out the reason for the central issue (op not wanting the wife to be friends with a specific guy. like wtf happened. probably the reason is actually "I don't want you to talk/look at/think about men who arent me in any capacity" but he knew that wouldn't play well). It's like those, but ESPECIALLY (from an audience pov) like the ones where the person being talked about finds it and adds in some details and context that flip it completely around so op looks the Worst. The ones that are like "aita bc i technically stole my daughter in law's cherries (but family is supposed to share with each other!)?" with specific enough details for the daughter in law to turn up like "she didnt pick some w/out permission, she physically dug up our cherry tree and planted it at her house. also in the past she's dumped a bottle of ink all over my wedding dress and put a rattlesnake in my shoes". Except jon's the one with all that essential context, so the Eye's version gets taken as uncritical fact.

#asks #writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #beholding/jonathan sims #tma beholding #jon/beholding somewhere else #ink post #the reddit post abt cherries is one i made up but they're all along those lines #that one didnt happen but its an amalgamation of stuff that has in various threads

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sweetchup · 4 years ago

Text

Hot Cocoa Mix

Type: Kurapika x reader

Prompt: Jour de la Lumière givrée (Frosted Light Day) — A popular Winter Holiday commonly celebrated in the Yorbia Continent and the republic of Padokea. On the day of December 16, some people will go shopping for a gift at local shops to give to family members and/or lovers while others will prepare their snowflake lanterns. Such festivities will continue until 11:05 when strings of lights placed around the city or town will light up and people will begin to release their lanterns into the sky; creating a beautiful sea of lights.

Author Note: I hope you guys enjoy! I’m sorry this took so long, for so reason I just forgot how to write Kurapika’s character like it was insane. I had to rewatch the whole Yorknew Arc just to get a single idea.

(Prompts/Rules) (Holiday Masterlist)

The winter wind howled on from outside. Throwing around the snow that was falling from the sky with it, creating a painful whiplash to whoever crossed its path. Though that was the last thing on your mind at the moment for you could not hear the weather outside nor was aware of it as it was being drowned out by the loud chattering of people. Well, more like a swarm of people, who were interacting with each other throughout the tightly packed and crowded mall.

A clear sign that it was now the holiday season. More specifically, That today was officially December 16 and Jour de la Lumière, or Frosted Lights day, was upon you. Due to this many people, including yourself, were trying to buy lanterns or get a gift to give to family members.

“Oh I want this one! And that one as well!” Neon shouts out as she continues to pull out sweaters and throws them onto the pile of clothes in your hands. As people stare on and whisper to each other, quite confused at your strange group, You wondered if Neon truly even knew that she was supposed to be trying to get a gift for her father instead of herself.

“Miss Neon-n, aren’t we supposed to be finding a gift for your father? Eliza asks, worried about your well-being as well as how much the young girl was spending.

“Oh yeah… Well, I’ll just pay for these and then we can go find a gift for daddy.” Neon says happily, as she gives you her credit card and skips away with Eliza following in tow. Before leaving, Eliza gives you an apologetic look but you only shake your head. There was nothing for her to apologize for, it was your job as a bodyguard to take care of tasks such as this one.

Once the girl is reassured, you stagger over to go wait in line while balancing the large pile of clothes in your hands. Thankfully this line wasn’t as long as the other stores you have visited, so you should be able to catch up to the rest of the group rather fast.

As you wait in line, you let out a sigh while you ponder for a little. You wondered why you just felt so odd. Like as if you were kind of sad or…. gloomy? It was Frosted Lights Day, your most favorite times of the year, so there should be no reason for you to be feeling this way.

“Honey, I think you made a perfect lantern,” A young gentleman's voice says, catching your attention. Looking over, you see the man with an arm wrapped around another young woman. They both were in front of a vendor selling Make-your-own lanterns, the lady painting one herself. They must be a couple, you concluded to yourself as you continued to watch them.

The girl giggles happily to her boyfriend.

“You think so? I messed up the snowflake design though…” She admits, rather embarrassed at herself. The boyfriend laughs and kisses the girl’s temple.

“I think it’s perfect! Come on, let’s go pay for it.”

As the two pay for the lantern, you can’t help but realize your heart feels rather heavy now. Was that what was making you feel down? Because you couldn’t celebrate the Holidays with your own boyfriend, Kurapika?

You quickly took your eyes off of the couple, you were being ridiculous. It wasn’t like Kurapika was gone or anything, you would see him tonight like almost every night. You shouldn’t be feeling down just because Kurapika doesn’t celebrate the Holidays. It wasn’t his fault he grew up in a tropical climate and his people do not have winter-esk holidays.

You let out a groan as you start to feel even more gloomy than before. Why did Frosted Lights Day have to be your favorite holiday?

“Miss!” You are startled as you hear a voice yell in front of you, “It’s your turn to pay.”

You gulp, embarrassed you had spaced out and missed the fact the cashier had been calling your name for a while. Giving an apologetic bow, you walk up to her counter.

“S-sorry about that. I was a little spaced out.”

“I could see that.” The cashier mumbles out as she begins to ring up the items. You clearly heard the rude response but chose to ignore it. There wasn’t any point in starting a fight in a clothing store after all.

Originally you were going to go back to observing the area around you but you feel your phone buzz suddenly in your backpocket. Taking it out and opening it up, you see you have a message from Melody.

‘Miss Neon would like to pick up a cake from the bakery. It’s closer to your location do you think you could pick one up?’

Typing back a quick response in confirmation, you quickly put your phone back away and bring your attention back up to the cashier. You didn’t want to come off as rude or impatient for having your phone out after all.

After punching in the credit card when the cashier tells you the amount needed, you take the bags of clothes and leave the store. As you find a map of the mall nearby, you hoped Melody was referring to the cake shop you saw when you entered the mall. If not then you would have to deal with one of Miss Neon’s “episodes” for bringing her the wrong cake.

Swiftly moving around other crowds of people as you get to your destination, you notice something in the corner of your eye. Looking closer you see near another store stood a hunched over elderly lady seeming to have dropped some of her stuff. People walked by her but it seemed none were trying to stop and help her.

Letting out a sigh, disappointed by other people’s selfishness, you quickly make your way over to go help the elderly lady.

“Oh deary, thank you very much. You didn’t have to help little old me.” She tells you as you begin to pick up the dropped items for her.

“It’s not a problem,” You tell her, give her a small smile as you place the items back into the bag. Though as you were picking some of the items up you would pause for a moment to make sure your eyes weren’t tricking you. Some of them were quite peculiar. Usually gifts that were given or treats that were made for Frosted Lights Day were decorated with a winter theme in mind but this lady had more of a spring theme going on. Cookies and pastries decorated with flowers. Bright yellows, greens and orange colored wrapped gifts. It was far from the usual traditional way of doing things.

As if sensing your curiosity the elder in front of you begins to explain,

“Odd choice huh? Well, ever since I was a child I never liked the winter. Especially the cold weather and snow that came with the season. I much, much preferred the spring. The blooms of colors that came with the buds of flowers that grew. The many scents that you could come across. Just everything about spring was so perfect.”

You stopped picking up the last item to look up at the lady. Amazed at how happy and carefree she looked as she explained her love of spring.

“Though, my friends and family loved winter, especially the holidays that came with it. So, I just added my own signature twist to it.”

“As if it’s your own tradition…” You mumble out almost as if you are in like a daze as a thought comes to you. Finally putting the last item away, you hand the bag back to the lady as you stand up, “Thank you, Miss.”

The elderly lady didn’t understand why at first you had thanked her but when she looked at your eyes, without any words, she suddenly understood. When she had first met you, she saw an anxious storm brewing in you, with your eyes dark and a light sheen over them. But now, the storm was gone and your eyes were bright and shined like stars.

“Your welcome.” The elder mumbles out, giving you a small wave as you leave to travel further into the mall.

—.—.—.—.—

Kurapika lets out a heavy sigh as he punches in his floor number and leans against the wall of the elevator. He was utterly exhausted, taking care of the business in the place of Mr Nostrade was really tough. Though, Kurapika knew it would all be worth it.

As the elevator doors open on his floor, he clutches tighter onto the box in his hands. To anyone else walking by the package would look like a gift given for the holidays. But it was anything but that. For a pair of scarlet eyes laid in the box. Kurapika’s recent item he had obtained from his hard work.

As Kurapika continues to walk down the hall, he tries not to allow his anger cloud his judgement. Though he couldn’t help but feel an itching, almost burning, feeling come over his eyes as he recalls the events from earlier today. Those slimy bastards, Kurapika thinks to himself as their laughter and carefree manner echoes throughout his head. How dare they treat these eyes —the eyes of his brethren— as if they were just some sort of item to decorate their shelves. Some sort of useless toy…

“Kurapika,” The soft touch of your hand touching his cheek and your calm voice brings him out of his thoughts. As he slowly comes out of his trance, he realizes he had already gotten back home.

“(Y-y/n)...” Kurapika mumbles out, still slightly dazed. Even though no words are spoken between you two, you can tell what exact “item” was in the box he was holding. Especially at the fact his knuckles were white from clutching it so harshly.

In a slow manner, you lightly lean over and allow your noses to rest against each other. This Eskimo kiss type of act always had a calming effect on Kurapika, “Come downstairs when you are ready, okay?”

With that, you allow Kurapika to make his way upstairs to do his thing. You knew not to interrupt or press into him when it came to something like that.

In the meantime, you decided to finish up the activity you had planned for tonight. You just hoped Kurapika was up for it.

“Ah,” The sudden voice startled you. Turning around, you are surprised that Kurapika is already back down stairs. Usually, it takes him a while to calm himself when he finds a pair of scarlet eyes. Especially if he wants to find a safe place for it, “(y/n), what is all of this?”

A dash of heat comes to your face as you feel yourself slightly become embarrassed.

“W-well it is Frosted Lights Day and I know you never grew up with exactly ‘Winter’ and my holidays. But, I still thought we should celebrate in our own way.” You explain to Kurapika as you watch him make his way to the coffee table and grab the flowers and colorful paints you have placed out.

You can’t help but feel nervous as you wait for Kurapika to respond. Just waiting for a single word, anything at all.

“These are to decorate the lanterns right?” Kurapika mumbles out, breaking the silence as he picks up a white lantern nearby.

“Y-yes. It’s a tradition to make them.”

“Then, let’s do it,” Kurapika states as he gives you a smile, allowing all your worries to disappear.

Shuffling over to make room for you, You sit down next to Kurapika on the soft carpet decorating the floor. As you two begin to decorate the white paper lanterns you bought, you two converse about your day. You tell him about how guarding Neon at the mall went. While he slowly, almost hesitantly, tells you about his meetings today. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, you knew he would trust you with his life, but you knew it was still hard for him to open up to people about his vulnerable side.

“I see…” You say out loud once Kurapika finishes explaining. At this point in time, you were resting your head on his shoulder. In a slight way to comfort him while he was telling his story, “I’m sorry Kurapika. I wish people weren’t heartless, money grubbing bastards.”

Kurapika laughs, almost sarcastically in a way, before kissing your forehead. “I wish for that too. But soon I won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

“Oh yeah, your new job is coming up right?” You mumble, almost to yourself in a way. It was some sort of bodyguard job for an emperor if you were remembering it correctly.

“Yeah—“ Kurapika is cut off by a loud bell ringing out.

“Ah, it’s already time?” You shout out surprised as you take a look at the clock. It truly was already 11:05, you two must have been talking for a while.

As both of you make your way outside, with Kurapika helping you get to your feet, you gasp as you see the sea of blue and white lanterns. Even with the cold pricking at your skin, you can’t help but feel a happy warm-like glee fill you to the core.

“So pretty,”

“Yeah it is…” Kurapika states, almost breathless and amazed at what was in front of him. He had seen the lanterns a couple of times while he was exploring after the Kurta Massacre but always from afar, almost hard to make out the shapes. Never up close. Never like this.

After a little bit more of watching the lanterns go by, you feel Kurapika tap you from behind. Turning around, you see he has already lit both of your lanterns. “Ready?”

“Yeah..” You whisper out, breathless out how handsome your boyfriend looked in the soft warm glow of the lanterns you two had made. Taking your lantern, you two stand next to each other ready to send them off. “On the count of three, okay?”

“1…”

“2….”

“3..—“

“Ah. Wait.” Kurapika suddenly says, quickly searching for something in his pocket. Thankfully even though he caught you off guard, you are able to stop yourself from letting the lantern go. Confused, you look at your boyfriend as he finally finds the item out he was looking for.

“A string?” You questioned confused as your boyfriend grabs the lantern from you. Though, you soon realize what he was doing and can’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“Yeah, I don’t want them to get separated after all,” Kurapika explains as he ties the lanterns together, each with a bit of space in between so they don’t bump into each other when they float away. As Kurapika gives your lantern back to you, you can’t help but feel extra jittery now. “Ready, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah…” You whisper out, finally allowing both of your lanterns to slowly float up into the sky to join the others. In the sea of blues and whites, the warm orange glow from your colorful lanterns stick out like a sore thumb.

After the lanterns start to make their way higher into the sky, you quickly close your eyes and begin to make a wish to yourself. Though as soon as you are about to wish for something you feel something caressing your cheek. It took you a moment but you soon realize it was Kurapika’s warm calloused hand.

Quickly, almost worried you would open your eyes too soon, a pair of soft lips mold against yours. It’s hesitant at first giving you slight pecks but once Kurapika gains more confidence as he goes on, he dives in further to give you something more passionate.

It’s as if the world has stopped when you two slowly pull away from the kiss. It’s peaceful, quiet and as if nothing could ruin this moment.

Kurapika flashes you a rare smile and he rests his arm around your waist when you slowly open your eyes. Even though he ruined your chance to make a wish, you didn’t care in the slightest and press further into his touch by resting your head on his chest and draping your arms loosely over his shoulder. Softly, you two begin to hear some jazz music playing from a band down on the street below. Leaning in to rest his head against yours, Kurapika begins to slowly sway you two back and forth. There wasn’t any reason behind the actions, you weren’t even sure Kurapika knew how to dance correctly. But, all that you two knew was it just felt… right…

Taking in each other’s presence as the aroma of hot chocolate fills the air from somewhere, you can’t help but feel at peace. Especially as you watch your two lanterns float off into the horizon.

Never, ever, floating two far away from the other…

#kurapika #Kurapika Kurta #kurapika x reader #hxh #Hunter X Hunter

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miss-eucatastrophe · 5 years ago

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Pairing: Levi x Erwin x Mike x Thick!Reader/PlusSize!Reader

Summary: When you purchased your first home you’d anticipated it being a turning point in your life. You just didn’t anticipate that turn to give you whiplash.

A new home throws you into a new lifestyle you would have never thought you’d find yourself in-- with three men you’d never expected to be with.

Rated: Explicit [18+]

Main Tags: Polyamory/Polyamorous relationship, BDSM, Attack on Titain Modern AU, Slow Burn

A/N: Hey all, Just some things about the reader in this fic before you get invested:

I keep the reader ambiguous in appearance and use [y/n]. Use of [y/n] becomes minimal in favor of pet names as the story progresses.

One thing that is not ambiguous is that the reader is thick, you could also say plus sized though because that’s different in every country I favor the word thick. I also think its kind of a sexier adjective.

Reader has self consciousness issues and anxiety, both are being treated/have been treated through therapy. I keep it ambiguous as to whether or not the reader is still in therapy-- regardless the reader is insinuated to be far along and doing well in her treatment. Shout out to my peeps who are/have been in therapy, your mental health is important and you’re doing great no matter where you are in it.

Reader is in her mid to late 20′s because realistically purchasing a home before that is near impossible. Hell even in our 20′s its hard. I also wanted to give a little love to my thick girls in their later 20′s because we out here.

A lot of AOT reader inserts, if not completely ambiguous, often emphasize a super fit form. Which makes sense in the typical setting when the reader is in the AOT world and maybe a soldier-- but I wanted to give some love to our fuller body types. Maybe I just got tired of reading “...reader’s flat/muscular stomach...” and going-- ooh can’t relate! Haaa.

That being said, you can read this no matter what your body type because everyone’s perception of self is different-- I just wanted to give the heads up because the reader does struggle a bit with her sense of self in the story because of her body type as her self confidence continues to develop.

BDSM dynamics ultimately take place in this fic. Some are good BDSM practices/etiquette, some are not good. Professionals know the difference and this is not your guide to polyamory or BDSM. The poor etiquette will be rather obvious but if you’re interested in pursuing BDSM in your real life, please don’t use this work of fiction as gospel. Do your research and practice safely!

My fictional stories are for ADULTS. Do not read them if you are under the age of 18.

With all that out of the way, Please enjoy~

Chapter 1:

“I got this,” A panted breath.

“I got this,” A strained grunt.

“Nope I lied.” A loud thunk of a heavy box hitting green grass.

“Told ‘ya so.” The brunette breathlessly quipped from her position beside another box, her arms haphazardly flung over its surface. “Can we please take a break now?”

Admitting defeat, you fell in a heap on the lawn and nodded your head, but not before running your forearm across your sweaty brow. “Okay, yeah,” your reply was just as breathless although your friend had given up long before you. “Like five minutes.”

The other female placed her chin on the box, framing her head between her outstretched arms. “Okay, yeah, like fifteen minutes.” She echoed in a tired din, attempting to get you to thoughtlessly agree to her editing of the time.

Though tired with your legs and arms throbbing under the surface of your skin, you shook your head. “No Sasha,” you said firmly. Though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself over her. “If we take longer than five minutes, we’re gonna quit and we’re almost done!” You gestured with an open palm to the admittedly small moving van parked in the street in front of you. You’d made good headway with it. It was amazing how much stuff you could fit in such a small van.

It was amazing how little space said stuff could take up in such a big home.

Well, big might be a little generous. It was by no means a mansion, certainly not as big as some of the other models on the same street, but it was bigger than your previous living conditions.

More importantly it was yours.

Yours.

You smiled, looking up at the bright sky above you, dotted with a few fluffy clouds.

Your first home.

Your heart sped up when you reminded yourself. You had doubts that it would ever happen. Saving enough money to put a down payment on a home without loans or handouts was no easy feat. But you did it, and that hard work had paid off in achieving your goal. Your down payment was enough to make the house payments bearable; though for the first few months you could see that a majority of your income would go back into the home either in the form of said payments, filling the home with furniture, or renovating some of the areas that needed love.

Like the front yard.

The front yard needed some love.

Not the lawn. The lawn was good. The lawn was providing you and Sasha with a much-needed reprieve. Yes, the lawn could stay.

You loved lawn.

Lawn loved you.

Until your arms started to itch. A less than intimidating growl left your lips as you quickly sat up, your nails digging into your skin as you scratched at it for some relief before flailing your arms about to try and save them from the irritation—as if you could shake it off your flesh.

“Back to work.” You chirped, making Sasha groan.

“Remind me what I’m getting out of this again?” She mumbled, her face planting itself back to the box to muffle her protests.

Kicking yourself up to standing, you looked over your shoulder with a playful smile, “I’m feeding you.” You reminded her.

After a long pause, perhaps letting your words sink in, Sasha released a huff, lifting her face and flexing her small arms in her baggy t-shirt. “Second wind!” she shrieked by way of a battle cry, her hands clenching the cube between her legs in a vice grip as she moved to a squat, yanking the box off of the pristine lawn.

Who would take such good care of a lawn but ignore the rest of the yard? The previous owner apparently. Then again, it made a bit of sense. It was easy to turn on a sprinkler system to keep a lawn looking fresh whereas the things you wanted to add would take work. Like flowers. You loved flowers. Though you’d struggle on and off with a potentially green thumb, unlike your mother who could make anything grow. Planting flowers was a must. You would work your way to the backyard. But the front yard was like a first impression and you wanted it to be pretty for when friends came over as well as for the strangers that passed by. You wanted people to say, “Oh what a cute house. Whoever bought it really spruced up the place. It looks much better. Oh, it so does, blah blah blah.” Should you care what other people said? No. But you were human. Besides, your mother always kept an immaculate home, you wanted to emulate her in the maintenance of your own home.

As always you were getting too ahead of yourself. You were thinking twelve steps beyond where you were. That could be dangerous. Such thoughts could stimulate anxiety. Something you were unfortunately prone to. You took a deep breath, stealing your resolve to focus on the present moment.

You lifted your gaze, letting it drag over the neighborhood. “Find every color.” You murmured to yourself.

Red, the roses on the bush two houses down.

Orange, the moving van.

Yellow, your shirt.

Green, the lawn.

Blue, the sky.

Purple, your struggled to find purple and made a note to plant some purple pansies to rectify that.

Pink, the flowers of the magnolia tree next door.

You took a deep breath. This was your favorite grounding exercise you’d learned from therapy. It forced you to stay in the moment, steel yourself, and stop racing thoughts—often times before they happened since now you were much better at recognizing the warning signs. It took a lot of work to get to this point. It was work you were proud of.

You took another breath.

First the van. Empty the van. One thing at a time.

A huffing and puffing Sasha stumbled down the shallow steps of the front door—your front door you though joyously—with her hands on her hips, bent slightly at the waist to pin you with judgement. “Excuse me? Am I do’n all the work around here?”

You smirked, nudging the box in front of you with the toe of your shoe, the memory of your struggle to lift it still fresh in your mind. You weren’t in a hurry for a repeat performance in spite of your hassling of Sasha. “Depends, how big of a meal you want?” You teased her.

The brunette scoffed. “If you want me to go at it alone then you better be treating me to a buffet.”

You giggled, though a twinge of envy settled in your chest. Sasha was a petite thing considering how much she ate. You were not. The fact that she could eat so much and still keep her shape while you struggled around your weight made you jealous. The thought of going to a buffet filled you with dread. You always wondered what people thought when they saw someone of thicker size stepping into one of those. It triggered the self-consciousness you were working on diminishing. It wasn’t as though you were lazy, ugly, or any other stereotypical term that so wrongly coincided with your set. Hell, you’d moved over half your old residence by yourself. You were strong! Your body could do amazing things. You just didn’t match the image plastered all over social media and society of what a woman “should” look like.

Size 0 mannequins could go fuck themselves.

You had hips, you had a butt, you had ample breasts—all things sexualized excessively in the female form—you just also had a little extra. Thick thighs, a bit of a tummy—society wanted you to have tits and an ass but when you had the addition that often went with those things naturally, you were frowned upon. It was a complete catch 22. However, society wasn’t going to change, not overnight. So instead you worked on yourself—or rather your perception of self. Therapy helped, but it was an everyday battle to combat two parts of your brain. The half that liked and appreciated the many elements of you, including your body—and the half that was an asshole.

Right now, the asshole was winning. Because of this you had no interest in taking Sasha to a buffet—which meant you had to actually pick up the box you were glaring at.

Bending over, you hoisted the box into your arms with refreshed energy and groaned as you started to your home. “Remind me again why we didn’t recruit the guys?” You mumbled; your voice strained with effort. You probably had books in there. Yeah that was absolutely the book box. Should have spaced those damn things out. What kinda dumb ass were you to put almost all of them in one box?

“Oh, it’s not that much and they’re working, we can totally handle it.” Sasha said, her voice mimicking yours as best it could, though laced heavy with sarcasm. “That’s you. That’s how you sounded.”

You were kicking yourself, “Talk some sense into me next time.” You called, over your shoulder, dropping the box just inside the door where it was going to stay until you either, one, had the energy to move it, or two, had finished putting up your half book shelf.

It was probably going to live there for a while.

“Already thinking about ‘next time’? Oh, no, you’re not moving for at least 10 years. You can’t get me to do this again before that.” Sasha said sternly when you walked back outside to meet her by the van. “I’ll book you for 10 years from now.” You agreed, leaning against the side of the vehicle while Sasha took a moment to fix her ponytail which had gone messy with her unloading efforts.

Walking around to the back of the moving van, you leaned down to pick up another box, a smaller one than the last and took a moment to look over what was left. Just a few bigger items. They were bulky but between the two of you they wouldn’t be difficult to manage. Getting the bed frame and headboard up the stairs was going to be a pain in the ass, luckily TV’s were thinner now so that would be easy to get inside, the bedside tables were small and each of you could carry one of those, the dresser was going to be a bit of a bitch…

You bit your lip, looking over the items and making a list of difficulty in your head. Once again you were filling your mind with ‘to-do’s. Luckily, a voice pulled you out of your own thoughts as you backed down the van’s slope.

“Hello girls!”

You turned around to see an older woman toddling down the driveway beside your own, holding a tray with cookies and two glasses of what appeared to be lemonade.

Putting on your best ‘first impression’ face, you gave the woman a bright smile and placed the box down at your feet to greet the woman who was undoubtably one of your new neighbors. “Hello ma’am,” you said politely. Sasha was too busy drooling over the cookies in the woman’s hands.

“Please, please, call me Della.” She said, lifting the tray in her hands to present the offering to you and Sasha, who was quick to snatch the lemonade and two cookies, chewing both of them at the same time with happy hums and grumbles. You nudged her with your elbow silently scolding her for bypassing the introduction process. Della waved you off, having noticed the subtle action. “She’s absolutely fine! I’m thrilled to have someone enjoy my baking so much.”

All the same, you introduced yourself before taking your own cookie. “It’s nice to meet you Della. I’m [y/n] and this is Sasha.” You took the tray from her and placed it on one of the taller boxes so you could shake the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much for the lemonade and treats.” How on earth had the woman baked that fast? You’d only been there about two hours and these cookies were absolutely fresh out of the oven. Clearly you were living next door to a witch. A kitchen witch. You were totally okay with that so long as she directed her baking powers on you regularly.

“These are amazing.” You mumbled around a mouthful of warm cookie, the flavor sitting on your tongue for a moment, only to have your pallet cleansed by the lemonade.

Della gave a bright smile, “Well thank you dear. It’s nice to have another darling couple to bake for.”

Sasha spit out the lemonade she was sipping, her eyes popping out of her head as she coughed.

You swallowed your bite to try and keep from choking yourself. “Oh! Oh gosh no. No Sasha is just helping me move in. She’s my best friend.” You clarified calmly.

Sasha was thumping her fist to her chest in an attempt to clear her esophagus. “Connie would kill me.” She managed to choke out between wheezes.

“I think he would be down.” You murmured around another sip of lemonade, teasing her.

Della however covered her mouth, looking a little embarrassed by her assumption. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I guess I’m just so used to our other neighbors.” she trailed off, gesturing to the house on the other side of yours. You took that to mean that your other neighbors were a gay couple.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it!” Honestly, you were pleasantly surprised to have an older woman be so openly accepting and progressive. Having a neighbor like that wouldn’t be half bad. Especially if she made a habit of sharing her cooked concoctions.

It seemed you’d managed to move to a rather well-rounded neighborhood. It made a smile tug at your lips.

“Will you be living alone, dear?” Della asked, smoothing her hands over the apron tied around her waist. The action cause tiny plumes of flour to drift in front of her before her green eyes came up to regard you with her full attention. It must be her way to ask if you had a significant other that would be moving in alongside you. To some it may seem prying, but you didn’t blame her for wanting to know a little more about the person living right next door to her.

Nodding your head, you reached for another cookie. You probably wouldn’t have normally, sometimes you felt odd eating in front of others— it might have something to do with your negative self-image—but in this case it seemed rude to not show how much you enjoyed the treats after your neighbor slaved over them for you. So, you justified the second as you answered her question. “Yep, just me.”

Humming her understanding, Della nodded in response. “Well don’t you worry. This is a very safe neighborhood. I’ve never felt nervous living alone.” She assured you.

It was not something you’d even considered. You’d lived on your own before, in truth you just slept with a baseball bat under your bed or a heavy flashlight by your nightstand. You’d never had to use them of course, but better have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. You were confident in your ability to defend yourself. As confident as an untrained baseball bat wielder could be anyway. It’s not as though you knew martial arts.

“That’s reassuring.” You told Della with a smile who returned your kind expression. “If you ever need anything, do let me know,” she said softly, picking up the tray as you and Sasha placed your glasses on it—though she handed you the plate of cookies which was for your to consume at your leisure. “Us girls gotta stick together.” She winked, pulling a giggle from you before she gestured with her chin to your other neighbor’s home. “We’re outnumbered by boys after all.” She was just teasing but it clarified your suspicion of your other neighbors being a male couple.

“They’re very kind,” she added, “So I’m sure they’ll tell you the same. It’s a very lovely neighborhood.” She gave a little curtesy since she couldn’t wave. “I’ll let you girls get back to it!” She called as she walked back up to her driveway.

You smiled back, waving as she made her way to her home, “Thank you again! It was nice to meet you!” You raised the plate of cookies to Sasha’s view once the woman had retreated into her house after the brief welcome. “These are gonna be gone.” You whispered, walking past her to get them to the empty kitchen before you and Sasha could turn them to crumbs.

“Don’t you owe me a debt?” Sasha called after you, picking up the box the tray had once sat on top of.

You gave her a look over your shoulder. “I’m not giving you all my welcome cookies. I’m ordering pizza later.” For a moment you contemplated hiding the sweets. But that wouldn’t protect them from you. Just Sasha and her ravenous hunger.

It took a little under an hour to get the remainder of the van emptied, without any interruptions—no matter how pleasant. Assembling the bed was a bit of a pain, as suspected, but it was the only piece of furniture you were going to rope Sasha into helping you with. You’d bought a few new pieces of furniture that were still in boxes, which made them easier to pack, but you still had to assemble them. You were confident in your ability to do so on your own. You’d put together enough furniture in your time; and Sasha had done more than enough to earn her pizza.

Thus, the remainder of the evening consisted of eating said pizza, demolishing the plate of cookies, and yelling at reality stars through the television about their actions even though they couldn’t hear you nor Sasha. Thank god you had gotten the cable hooked up day one. You at least needed internet to watch Hulu and Netflix.

Your spunky brunette friend didn’t stay too late. Bless her, she took it upon herself to take the van back to the rental facility for you so you could continue to get settled. The most important piece of furniture was already complete, ready for you to pass out on it when you gave up on the boxes.

To your credit, you managed to unpack most things that didn’t involve the furniture still needing to be assembled. In fact, you unpacked and sorted all your kitchen ware very easily. The kitchen was a good place to start because it didn’t require the rearrangement of furniture which would inevitably come with unpacking areas like your bedroom. Empty cabinets, drawers, and countertops were a blank slate that only required methodical stuffing. Most people’s kitchens were relatively similar in where cutlery went, mixing bowls, cups, pots, and pans—there was only so much variability. It wouldn’t require the careful placement needed to make a space cozy and inviting. It just had to be functional and neat.

Another aspect that made the kitchen simple was your lack of items. Again, this home was much larger than your previous residence. It had much more space for things. Things you didn’t have but would come with time. You were rather excited to shop around for new things to fill your kitchen as well as the rest of your house.

You’d also managed to unpack some knick-knacks and items that would be set on already constructed furniture, like photographs of your family and friends. One of your favorite pictures included you, Sasha, and Connie in Disneyland. Because you were never too old to enjoy Disneyland. It had been your first trip with friends instead of family when you’d reached adulthood. You smiled fondly back at the joyous photo, all of you wearing Micky Mouse ears and grinning at the camera.

Connie and Sasha were two of your closest friends and though they were together romantically they never made you feel like a third wheel. You enjoyed their company dearly. The picture would get a place of honor in the living room before you went to bed that night, concluding your first day of unpacking.

The next two days went by in a blur of screws, hammers, nails, bubble wrap, newspaper, and boxes as you unpacked neatly tucked items and assembled furniture that was somehow always missing a screw or two that probably wasn’t important to the overall design anyway. Hopefully, the instructions were more like guidelines. So long as the furniture was sturdy and looked the way it did in the picture, it was fine. A lot of it was place holder furniture anyway. Rather cheap IKEA stuff that would serve to fill space and allow storage as you’d slowly accumulate nicer goods overtime.

It was a process, you reminded yourself, and the home wouldn’t be perfect or look like a catalog home right off the bat. It was what your mother had told you as well when you told her you were buying your first home. Her encouragement and soothing words also helped to keep you grounded much like the techniques you were still learning and utilizing from your time in therapy.

You’d hardly been out of the house since Friday when you first moved in and in spite of your fatigue caused by tedious unpacking, you were itching to start work on the front yard.

Not the backyard.

That was an adventure you weren’t ready for. You didn’t have an idea mapped out for that yet and weren’t going to spin out trying to construct a plan for it. The backyard would be last. Mainly because that was going to be a big project. It wasn’t poorly maintained, but it was empty. It had a nice lawn, much like the front yard, but that was it.

A blank slate almost overwhelmed you more. It allowed too many options. When you were ready, you’d likely ask the opinion of your parents or friends. Picking their brain for ideas would be helpful and take some of the burden of decisions from your shoulders.

But that was another day, likely many weeks from where you stood now.

Where you stood now was The Home Depot, in the gardening section, looking over the flowers, shrubs, pots, and yard décor they had to offer.

As you promised yourself earlier, you picked up some purple pansies, leaving every other flower and shrubbery up to the whimsy of your mood. Once you had enough plant life to fill the sparce areas of your new home you picked out a few more gardening essentials that you were severely lacking in. Such as gardening gloves, a trowel, and a small bag of soil to fill the few cute pots you would put on the front porch containing succulents. Because succulents were hard to kill—and admittedly you were still a bit green regarding the whole gardening thing.

Pun very much intended.

You snorted at your own stupid joke.

People looked at you in the checkout line.

You looked away, chagrinned.

Quickly, you paid for your greenery items and scurried out to your car. You would start planting right when you got home. It was still early in the morning, hardly 9:00 am. Way earlier than you liked to get up if you were being honest. But, if you started now you could get most of it done before it got too hot.

This was Mike’s favorite way to start the morning. With his heart pounding in his ears to the tune of his running mix, his nose filled with the fresh scent of the creek’s running water, and his bare shoulders gently warmed by the sunlight dancing through the canopy of trees overhead.

Almost every day before work, Mike would jog down to the creek trail not far from the house, enjoy the scenery, make a loop or two around the two mile-long path, and then jog home. It was a routine that never changed. He’d been doing it for years now and the consistency was part of what grounded him. He would credit his morning run with assisting in coping with his PTSD. Going without triggered his anxiety and instantly set a poor tone for his day. As such, his boyfriends were good about allowing him to untangle from the sheets every morning, despite one not being a morning person—because he hardly slept in the first place— and the other being a bit of a cuddlier, though he would insist Mike was the cuddlier. Not himself.

A smile tugged at Mike’s lips at the memory. He wiped his sweating brow with his shirt which was draped around his neck rather than on his body. He’d discarded it early in his run in favor of feeling the light breeze tickle over his bare torso.

His breathing changed as dirt road turned back into concrete when he turned from the creek trail back onto the sidewalk of the main streets of his neighborhood, making his way towards home.

As home came into view, his jog slowed to a walk, allowing his muscles to feel the rush of blood flow under his skin, the tingling throb of adrenaline cycling through his system becoming more noticeable with the shift of pace. Mike’s arms stretched over his head before bending at the joints. His hands folded behind his skull just under the knot of his blonde hair—the half up hairstyle keeping his shaggy bangs out of his face.

Getting closer to his home, he noticed a difference in the normally consistent pattern of houses along the street. A person was in the yard of the house beside his. Their old neighbor had never spent time tending to the yard. He hummed a curious sound. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce himself to their new neighbor. The “for sale” sign had been taken down days ago, and he vaguely remembered the presence of a moving van without occupants when he’d left for work that Friday.

Mike pulled his phone from his pocket, pausing his music before taking out one of his earphones as he got closer to the house. Though his own music was silenced, a new tune hit his ears, getting louder the closer he got to the kneeling form. The music wasn’t so loud that he would have to yell over it—he could probably clear his throat and the stranger would hear him.

With every intention to politely do just that, he opened his lips and—

Stopped dead in his tracks the moment he got behind the stranger because of what he was greeted by.

There you were, in front of him, on your hands and knees, back arched and your body at an incline as you dug the hole in front of you. But that’s not what got his attention. It was that your legging covered ass was perfectly on display, high in the air, round and inviting.

Mike stood there; mouth partially agape without realizing it. It was a few moments of ogling before he could take in more than that. He picked up your gentle voice, humming to the tune of what was playing on your portable speaker, he picked up the scent of flowers and damp earth, and he picked up on your doe like eyes wide with surprise. It was only then he noticed you had turned around away from your project, hand on your heart as you let out a yelp of surprise at finding someone standing behind you.

A giant standing behind you.

“H-hello…” you murmured, collecting yourself as you moved to turn down your music to a gentle background noise.

Mike was able to take that time to gather himself. He quickly closed his mouth, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. The man made a conscious effort not to stare, though now that he could see your face it was becoming even more difficult. A cute face to go with a nice ass. A blush dusted his cheeks. Hopefully covered by the sun kissed pigment of his skin.

God willing.

“Uh sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He lifted his hand not currently on the back of his neck, pointing to the house to his left, the one with the magnolia tree. “M’name’s Mike Zacharias, I live next door.” He put on a smile though it was no less sheepish than his previous expression. “I hadn’t had the chance to introduce myself yet.” He was thankful to have a cover up to his staring.

You paused for a long moment, the gears in your head almost audible—then recognition flashed over your face. Part of you was trying to recall the conversation you’d had with Della on move in day, the other part was mesmerized by the husky voice.

The sudden brightness that filled in your eyes when you smiled had Mike’s heart in his throat.

“Oh! Yes,” Pulling yourself up to standing, you rubbed your palms together to brush off the dirt and then pulled off one of your gardening gloves, extending a clean hand to him. “I’m [y/n] [l/n]. It’s nice to meet you.” You were extremely eager to make a good impression on your neighbors. You thought you had done a pretty good job with Della—though her cookie offering had done most of the work for you. It was imperative you get along with Mike and his partner. After all, you’d gotten very lucky with most of your neighbors throughout your life. Most of that was due to your parents. Your mother was friendly, polite, and warm. Your father was boisterous, funny, and generous. You strived to offer the same mix to your neighbors and have a good relationship.

You had seen enough episodes of “Fear Thy Neighbor” to understand that a poor relationship on either side of you could wreck an otherwise comfortable home life.

Of course, “Fear Thy Neighbor” was the most dramatic of examples often leading to violence and murder.

You should probably stop watching the ID channel.

Stick to the stupid reality shows.

Mike swallowed thickly, the dusted pink in his cheeks brightening. His large palm engulfed yours and it was as if his blush traveled from his face, down his arm, through your hands and up to your own cheeks. His hand was huge, it practically swallowed yours. Your palm was completely swaddled by the deceptively gentle squeeze of a rough hand, slight calluses made firm by some sort of labor you couldn’t name.

With your surprise having warn off from the initial contact you found yourself fully registering the man in front of you—

And holy shit if your brain didn’t almost immediately short circuit again.

First of all, he was a giant. Already established—but something you didn’t truly comprehend until you’d stood and fully approached him from your botany project. If you dug the hole you were working on a little deeper, you were pretty sure you could plant Mike up to his knees and he’d continue growing into the tree he so clearly was.

Second of all there was his face which was generously exposed by his tied back dark blond hair. Hazelly-green eyes, pronounced nose—that fit him perfectly, and a strong jaw lightly bearded along it as well as his upper lip.

Your eyes followed the curve of his jaw down his neck, past his broad shoulders and onto a sparsely haired chest just where his defined pectorals met. If you followed the path from his chest down to his toned stomach, which you absolutely did, you found the same light etching of hair extending from his navel down to his—

Your eyes quickly darted back up to his face, your own heating up substantially as your hands all too soon disconnected.

Mike placed his hands on his hips which served to flex his strong arms and momentarily distract you again.

If you could have slapped yourself subtly, you would have done so. But with those hazel eyes boring into you, you settled for mentally berating your thirst. ‘Get it together woman. He’s taken… and gay.’ But gay came second to taken. It was important to respect a preexisting relationship. It was important to respect sexuality too.

But—

You could look, right? No harm in looking. That’s why people went to museums. To drool over the Statue of David.

That throaty voice pulled you back to focus. “So, is it just you?” If you weren’t completely sure that the man in front of you was gay, the question would have sounded hopeful.

He must have just been asking so he could introduce himself to any other potential newcomers.

“Yep just me. It’s my first house.” He didn’t ask for that second part, but you were proud. You were proud of having your own home and doing so alone. You didn’t have to depend on anyone to get to this important step in your life. That wasn’t something many people could say. You weren’t trying to brag—it was just that residual excitement of having achieved one of your life goals.

Mike to his credit seemed excited for you. His eyebrows raised, as if impressed. Buying a home was getting harder and harder for every generation. Though he didn’t seem too much older than you. Probably in his early 30’s. Even if he were ten years older than you that would be a generational gap and that meant the struggles to find a home were different between the two of you. However, you didn’t think he could be that much older than you considering you were in the later part of your 20’s. 30’s seeming to creep ever closer. But seeing Mike reminded you that your 30’s didn’t make you old in the slightest. The more you looked at Mike, the better your 30’s looked. Because fuck if Mike wasn’t fine as hell.

You were thinking too far ahead again, this time years.

To pull yourself from your spinning thoughts, you looked back at Mike’s face. The smile momentarily dazed you. Because of course he would also have perfect teeth. “Congratulations, that’s wonderful.” He murmured, looking to your house for a moment and then back at you. The house was rather large for one person. “No significant other chomping at the bit to invade your space yet?” The tone was teasing, and you managed a laugh which dispelled your previously spiraling thoughts. God, sometimes you didn’t even notice when they were spiraling.

Mike seemed interested in your relationship status. It put little butterflies in your stomach which were squashed when you looked down at yourself. Even if Mike were interested in females, why would he be interested in you?

You growled internally at those disparaging thoughts to shut the fuck up. You counted to three in your head, a brief distraction from those thoughts used to ground you in the present.

Normally, you preferred your longer methods of distraction, like your colors. However, those weren’t feasible when in the middle of a conversation with your hot neighbor.

“Nope, no boyfriend or anything. Just me and maybe a dog or a cat at some point.” You grinned at the idea, reminding yourself that now that you had your own home no one could tell you if you could have a pet or not. No landlord, no parent, no roommate—no permission needed.

The twinkle in Mike’s eye was easily missed. “My votes’ for a cat,” he murmured offhandedly.

“Not a dog fan?” You asked playfully. Though maybe he was worried about you having a yappy dog that he would have to listen to all day. Understandable.

“No, I like dogs too,” Did his voice get a little deeper? “Just always been fond of kittens.” His eyes slid over you, a smile tugging at his lips that made your blush from earlier give an encore performance.

‘Taken. And. Gay.’ You reminded yourself, willing the blush to dissipate and scolding yourself for reading too much into his gaze. Schooling your expression with the same friendly smile you’d given Della; you nodded your head. “Well I’ll just have to drag you along when I adopt one, then you can play with some pussy.”

Oh lord.

That was a Freudian slip if there ever was one.

You felt your face go hot and resisted the overwhelming compulsion to connect your palm to your forehead. Inappropriate joke for a first meeting—for sure.

Mike’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t name, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’ll take you up on that,” he grinned, and the expression was playful, putting you a bit more at ease. “It’s been far too long since I’ve played with a cute pussy.”

Your thighs squeezed together. Unnoticeably, you prayed.

Mike must have been messing with your somewhat unintentional word choice. Though you were happy that Mike seemed to be the lighthearted type. You could see yourself forming a friendship with the man. Hopefully, his boyfriend (husband?) was half as laid back.

You also hopped his partner was half as sexy.

Because if he was just as sexy as Mike, you were going to suffer a heat stroke.

The giant grinned, tilting his head to gesture to his home. “I gotta get ready for work.” Was it your imagination or did he look a bit reluctant? His grin was back in place too soon to really tell. You nodded your head politely with a little wave just before he turned away.

“It was nice to meet you.” You called, getting back on your knees next to the little pit you’d dug for your shrub.

The blond looked over his strong shoulder as he made his way down the sidewalk and threw you a very obvious wink. “Catch ya later, kitten.” He replied before he rounded his driveway and walked up to his front door, giving you one more glance and disappearing inside the much larger home.

Blinking, you sat frozen for a few moments before your eyes drifted to the hole beside you. Maybe if you dug it a bit deeper you could bury yourself in it.

Because Mike was surely going to be the death of you.

When Mike got back into the house, he had to lean against the door, tilting his head back to let the cooling air of the AC drench his heated skin. Though at this point the heat was less from his run and more from the cute new neighbor. It took everything in his power not to pin you to the dirt right there. He let out a little groan, hardly audible.

But just audible enough.

A voice, smooth as honey called from around the corner. “Mike? You alright?”

Mike hummed an affirmative and pushed himself off the door to make his way to the kitchen where the voice was coming from. If he didn’t answer right away, he knew the male would come searching for him and instantly begin to drill him on his mental state. There was no need for that.

His mental state was good. Very good this morning.

His large palm came up to slide over the marble of the kitchen island as he bypassed it to get to the fridge, sticking his head in for longer than necessary to retrieve a water bottle. A soft crack filled the room as he twisted the cap, breaking the seal as he turned to face the kitchen table. Two sets of eyes peered over at him. One set a bright blue; the color of the ocean, the other a stormy grey sky.

The honey voice spoke again, the blue eyes having been peering behind a newspaper completely revealed by its placement on the table. “Good run I take it?”

“Looks a little too happy about a run, Erwin.” The stormy eyed male murmured from behind a teacup held at the rim.

Mike smirked a little. Levi always was perceptive. They both were. But Levi noticed subtleties far more quickly than Erwin did. “I met our new neighbor.” He brought the opening of the bottle to his lips, letting the chilled liquid sooth his throat of the dryness from his run.

“Oh?” Erwin asked, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head back as a silent hint for Mike to lean down to him. Levi was good at noticing subtleties, but Mike was good at reading hints. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Erwin’s, his own cool and water glazed compared to Erwin’s soft and warm ones. “Mm hm,” He confirmed while righting himself. “And Levi,” Mike moved to the other side of the table, tilting Levi’s head back with a fingertip to direct his gaze to him which had been glued upon the novel in his left hand. The ravenette looked up from his book with the giant’s prompting, gaze aloof and seemingly disinterested. However, the look in Mike’s eyes gave him pause.

Since Mike knew Levi, really knew him, he noticed the curiosity lingering behind that seemingly blank expression.

Mike pecked his lips to the shorter male’s, whispering against them. “She’d be perfect.”

#attack on titan fanfiction #levi x erwin x mike x reader #levi ackerman x erwin smith x mike zacharias x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #mike zacharias x reader #mike x reader #aot modern au #thick reader #thick!reader #plus size!reader #plus size reader

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onthepageoftears · 4 years ago

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Hold Them Closer ~ Ch.7 [Jaskier x assassin!reader] || Witcher

A/N: It’s been less than a week and school is kicking my ass :) lol anyway i hope yall enjoy this chapter!

Summary: All that lies ahead is a skeleton of what you called home.

Warnings: mentions of killing/death/murder, insinuations of attack, language, slight angst and comfort

Words: 2,638

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The sky was bright, not a cloud to block any of the sun’s shine. The local farmers wiped tirelessly at the sweat that formed on their foreheads, but still, they smiled. Days like this didn’t come often, so a smile was a silent thank you to whoever blessed them with the hopeful weather.

You watched the square with a smile on your face, noticing the uplift in everyone’s spirits. A chicken walked aimlessly past the well that sat in the middle of the area, where your mother was gathering some water to bring back to your house. You giggled as she pulled the bucket from the well, accidentally sloshing some water onto the chicken’s back. It clucked, rushing past your mother and shaking its body to rid itself of water. But even in the chicken’s annoyance, it was probably happy as well. It was a nice day for everyone, no matter what happened.

You opened your eyes, almost shocked by the sight in front of you. Your memory hit you like whiplash as you stood in front of your now abandoned village, the darkness of night looming over you, almost as a threat. Even in the daytime you guessed that your village would feel dark and dim, now empty of the life you once witnessed it having.

You sighed, placing your hands on your knees as you kneeled in the same spot you once did as a child. Though you told yourself this could very well lead to nothing, the fact that it did make your heart shrink. At the very least, you thought you could ask the locals what happened to your mother — but there was no one here. Not a trace of anything, it seemed. It was a lost cause.

Footsteps crunched behind you, but you didn’t bother to turn. Next to you, Jaskier kneeled, placing a hand on your back with a sigh. He didn’t say anything for a bit — just watched the scene before you, waiting for you to speak.

To him, this place was just another abandoned village. You came across many of them before, stayed in some empty houses for a night despite the risk of them collapsing right then and there — but this…this was your home. It was the only home you considered calling home, despite the many places you and Rauf stayed in. And now, it was ruined.

“How did you know this was your village?”

You shrugged at Jaskier’s question, “I just…knew.” You took a sharp breath in, “And I still have the memories.”

He nudged you gently. “Tell me about them.”

You blinked as he looked over at you, avoiding his gaze. You kept your eyes on the well whose roof was on the brink of falling over. “This area was always so…alive. Kids would run around barefoot with chickens chasing after them for stealing eggs.”

You snorted, but your face stayed grim. “I thought they would still be here. Kids wandering, people doing their chores and…waiting to go home for supper.” You fought the tears that brimmed your eyes as you turned to Jaskier, whose face was as grim as yours. “What happened here?”

“I don’t know.” Jaskier took your hand in his own, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I don’t know what it was like before, but I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it. The life. Even if it is just my imagination.”

He watched you a moment longer, squeezing your hand so you would focus on him once more. “Let’s look around. You never know what we might find.”

With a deep breath, you let Jaskier pull you up with him, though standing felt like a chore in itself. Your limbs were heavy as the two of you walked through the village, passing Geralt a couple times on the short walk.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, part of you not believing it was real. Though you left at a young age, the memories flooded you with every step, making what you were seeing so much worse. The houses that were now decrepit were once strong, with torches just by the front doors and someone sitting in a chair saying hello to their neighbors. The emptiness was shocking, and every time you felt it overwhelming you, you squeezed Jaskier’s hand.

Despite your weariness, Jaskier led the two of you inside some of the buildings. It was strange, entering houses that you knew people had lived in before. It wouldn’t have been strange if you didn’t remember the village, but knowing your neighbors once lived in these places — laughed, breathed, slept, ate — you felt like an intruder. Maybe you were one.

However long your village had been abandoned, it didn’t seem like stragglers found this place. If they did, they didn’t think it was worth it to stop and steal the leftover items. Some houses still had good blankets, leftover food (not that it was still good), forgotten coin. Others didn’t have the same luxury — they were ransacked, all essentials gone, leaving any useless items behind. That could only mean that the people from your village left in a hurry, or didn’t get the chance to leave at all.

The thought made you shiver, but maybe it was the cool air. The sky was almost completely dark by now, and the three of you met in the same square that you had been sitting in before. Geralt had a fire started already, acknowledging you and Jaskier with a grim nod as you sat across from him.

Jaskier was the first to speak, “I don’t understand.” No one responded. You were too busy staring at the embers that flew towards the sky, disappearing just as quickly as they appeared. Jaskier continued anyway, “What would make everyone just…up and leave?”

Geralt grunted. “Bandits?”

You took a sharp breath through your nose, eyes flicking to the ground in front of you. “That, or assassins.” You didn’t wait for a response to continue. “From his entries, I don’t think Rauf came back. But maybe his men did.”

The words settled in the silence of the night, making you shiver. Rauf lied about so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot to mention that his men tried to find your mother for him. He wasn’t the type to forgive and forget, clearly. So why would he have truly let your mother live? He was too much of a coward to kill her himself, so he might as well have sent people to do his dirty work for him.

It’s not like it would be the first time.

Jaskier touched your arm gently, bringing you back to reality. “Your house — do you remember where it is?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Of course,” you whispered. How could you forget? You directed Jaskier away from it purposefully, not wanting to face what might have happened there. So many times you had visited your home in your dreams, but nothing good ever came from it. You feared it would be too painful to see the state of your house, because then, the memories you had clutched onto so delicately might perish forever.

When Jaskier didn’t answer you, you croaked out a, “Why?”

It was Geralt who responded. “Whoever came here didn’t come to loot.”

You turned your gaze to Geralt, wondering what he was getting at. “What do you mean?”

Jaskier spoke, “Some houses had stuff taken out of it, but others were left practically untouched.”

“Looters would never leave that much coin behind. Not unless they were blind.”

You blinked, letting their words swirl around your mind. You had noticed the same things, but the pieces hadn’t formed in your head. Perhaps your nostalgia was making your brain foggier than usual. You frowned at the information, working out the facts out loud.

“So the people who came here had a goal.” Your frown deepened. “It must have been Rauf’s assassins.”

“Maybe. But still—“ Jaskier turned to you, thoughtfulness etched in his face, “If we check your house…well, what I’m trying to say is — if the essentials are taken…maybe your mother got away.”

Maybe she got away. The thought made a spark ignite in your chest. As soon as it was there, you pushed it back. You didn’t want to be disappointed again, so you set your lips in a tight line.

“She could have left before the attack.”

Jaskier nodded, hope still surfacing his blue irises. “But if we check the house, you’ll be able to tell what stuff was hers, right? You’ll be able to know if she was living there when they…attacked.”

You pondered this, considering the man’s words. Though your memories were a bit scattered, you could remember your home relatively clearly. With a deep breath in, you pushed yourself up from the ground beneath you.

“Let’s go.”

—

The house stood before you, though stood was a strong word. The outside felt…off, definitely lower to the ground than it had been before. Still, it was too dark to truly tell, despite the makeshift torch Jaskier held. But it definitely wasn’t as you remembered it. It wasn’t nearly as comforting to see as it might have been in your memories.

“I can go in for you,” Jaskier said, his voice just above a whisper.

You shook your head, “No. I have to see this myself.”

You forced your feet to step forward, Jaskier just behind you. You blinked, noticing that the door to your old house wasn’t just open — it had been ripped off the hinges.

You let out a breath and pushed aside any fear that lingered in your movements. Stalling wouldn’t help anybody.

But as soon as your feet past the threshold, it felt like you were transported. Despite the darkness outside, you remembered the mornings with your mother making you breakfast, when the sun had begun shining through the windows and leaving rays of light on the cracked floors. You remembered the hum of your mother’s voice, the scratchy fabric of your homemade clothes, the way the wood floor felt under your bare feet.

“Come eat, Y/N.” You turned our head to the right, where your mother cut the bread she had just made onto the small table your father made not long ago.

You rushed to the food — it wasn’t much, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t know what you were missing, or that this wasn’t the usual food everyone ate. Your mother had done a good job of hiding the fact that you were quite poor, trying to keep your innocence as long as possible.

As you took small bites of your bread, you watched your mother walk out of the main room and into the room where the three of you slept — it was a small area, with no door, and only two beds. Your father and mother would squeeze into one of the twin sized beds, leaving you the other. But right now, your mother wasn’t going to lay down, she was going to get something. Something important.

You blinked in the darkness of the room, slightly overwhelmed by the memory.

“What are you thinking?” Jaskier’s voice nearly startled you, but you shrugged it off.

After the flash of your memory, you immediately felt a pit in your stomach. The main room was practically ripped to shreds — the table you used to eat at was cracked in half, drawers ripped from their places, items thrown on the floor, forgotten.

You slammed your eyes closed, hoping some of your memories would help you. The state of your old home made your stomach churn, but what Jaskier said before circled your mind. Just because it looked like a wreck didn’t mean she was killed — it just meant the people who did this were sent to wreak havoc if she wasn’t. The only way to know if your mother got away was if there was something important, something essential, that she needed to take with her.

The memory you recalled from before hit you again:

“What’s that?” You said, swallowing the last of your breakfast. Your eyes were wide with curiosity as your mother sat at the table beside you; she cradled something in her palms, a somewhat serious expression on her face.

“My sweet, sweet child. You know I love you very much, and I love our life more than anything.”

You nodded. Your mother was always a positive person, a charmer. It was no wonder so many people loved her.

Even so, she was quite a lonely woman. A lot of her time was spent taking care of you while your father worked as much as possible. You loved it, having her company — still, she was a dreamer. She wanted more for the both of you, however she had to get it.

She continued talking to you, but was mostly talking to herself.“I appreciate everything your father does for us…but someday, it might not be enough. And I fear that we may need to make a change, soon.” You didn’t interrupt her, eyes still trained on her closed palms. “This is a very important item. It was passed down from my mother to me, and is meant to be passed to you as well.”

You widened you eyes even more, captured by her statement. Wordlessly, she opened her palms, revealing the shiniest thing you had ever seen. It was a necklace with some sort of jewel at the center of it — even though you didn’t know exactly what it was, you knew it was probably worth a lot.

“Your father doesn’t know about this. Because this gift is yours as much as it is mine, I want to ask your permission for something.” You blinked, surprised by your mother’s forwardness. You were only eight after all, so a decision being placed on your shoulders felt strange. Still, you listened to your mother like her words meant everything to you — because they did. “If we sell our necklace, we can start a new life. We can have our own shop, maybe even a small farm—“

You perked up, “And animals?”

Smiling, your mom nodded. “And animals.” She reached forward to rub a crumb off your cheek, her eyes full of love.“What do you say?”

You smiled, “Okay.”

To you, the memory only lasted seconds. It was hazy at best, a jumble of expressions and feelings that didn’t make all that much sense. But what you knew for sure was that your mother saw that piece of jewelry as the key to your future, and would never have left the house without it.

Without a word, you trudged past the wreckage and walked into the side room where you used to sleep. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you leaned down, hope falling in you as the hiding spot in the floorboards was already ripped open. Swallowing your fear, you reached your hand into the crevice, feeling around the space like your hand would burn if it touched anything other than the ground.

With a breathy laugh, you stood from your spot, turning back to Jaskier in the darkness.

You could see his confusion in the light of the torch. “What is it?”

You smiled slowly, hope rumbling in your chest. Never in your life had the absence of something meant so much — but right now, finding a seemingly priceless jewel would have ruined your entire journey.

You nodded your head at Jaskier, rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him towards you in a passionate kiss, feeling one of his hands find the small of your back.

When you pulled away, you kept your forehead to his, a smile finding it’s way on your face. “She got away.”

———————————————————————————————————

:O let me know your thoughts!

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drwcn · 5 years ago

Text

Hi anon!! :) I’m so thrilled to get a btsf ask because my brain has been on discordance waves for the past week. It really has motivated me to write more for btsf. It’s turning into a such a complex plot that I’m feeling a little daunted. I’ve got a lot of stuff written, bits and pieces... just not....chapter two >___>

Wen Qing and Meng Yao do not necessarily work together. For the most part, they are two independent spies existing simultaneously, each with their own agenda. Below cut is a little snippet of Wen Qing.

Warning: SPOILERS & graphic displays of violence.

Wen Qing doesn’t burn. No Wen ever does.

Still, she winces when the tea touches her tongue, a degree left of too hot, ruining the flavour. Hissing in more annoyance than pain, she flashes a cold side glare towards the underling who brought her the drink. The boy lowers his head immediately, curling into a deep, embarrassed bow. His name is Wen Tinglu, and he’s even younger than her A-Ning.

She frightens him.

Wen Qing sets the ceramic cup down on the table with one hand, the dismissal in her gesture clear. It lands louder than necessary, eliciting a round of half-suppressed flinches from the Wen soldiers - disciples, a reminding voice whispers - waiting at her beck and call.

She frightens all of them.

Good.

Wen Qing inspects her nails, drawing out the suspense she knows is eating up those around her. They’re painted a nice dark red, a Wen red, and long too, not too long to be inconvenient, but longer than she would’ve had them in the past. She has no use for short, sensible nails these days. Nails that short were meant to prevent injury when she bandaged patients, to not get caught on sutures when she stitched together wounds.

These hands do heal anyone anymore.

Across the room, her victim shivers on the rack. Winter rain in the south is a wretched ordeal. The poor thing is soaked through, dragged from the muddy ruins of their latest battlefield.

Wen Qing approaches him silently, letting her fingers gently caress the row of instruments she has ordered to be prepared and laid out neatly in clean, wooden trays. They’re thoroughly washed and soaked in alcohol daily, and in the flickers of firelight illuminating this dingy little countryside hut, the metal shines and glistens.

She sees the man’s gaze follow her movement, his eyes though drooping from exhaustion remained focused, unblinking. She sees him swallow and his body tremble. This time, she knows it’s not because of the rain.

From the colour of his tattered robes, she realizes he’s one of Nie Mingjue’s men. From experience, she knows they’re hard to break.

No matter, Wen Qing always gets what she wants in the end.

She picks up a scalpel and puts it underneath his chin. The press of her hands is gentle as she lifts his face so he can meet her smile. “Tell me, brave soldier, what’s your name?”

He spits in her face. A drop lands in her eye.

“Demoness!”

Her disciples lurch forward to defend her, but Wen Qing waves them off with a nonchalant flick of her wrist.

Dabbing her face with the edge of her sleeve, Wen Qing laughs. “You make your Nie-zongzhu proud, I must admit. I’m sure he won’t blame you for all that you’re about to tell me.”

“I will tell you nothing!”

Wen Qing flashes him her best and brightest smile. He is stunned momentarily, the full force of Wen Qing’s beauty giving him mental whiplashes. It must be disconcerting, she muses - fully aware of her appearance and its effect on the people around her - to see such a lovely smile on a such an abhorrent face, too beautiful surely to belong to a woman promising the most terrifying of ends.

“We’ll see.”

The scalpel cuts down the prisoner’s sternum before he could speak another word, one long stroke from nape to navel. The cut is shallow, just a thin red ribbon rippling in its trail.

The man does not die, but he does scream.

From the corner of her eyes, Wen Qing spots the boy who ruined her tea sway from where he stands, probably imagining himself in this poor sod’s place. To her satisfaction, he’s not the only one who appears mildly green around the gills.

Wen Qing twists on her heels, swirling around almost dance-like. “Would anyone like to try?” She holds out the bloodied blade towards her disciples, waving it in a welcoming gesture at the myriad of other instruments available.

No one takes her up on her offer. She doesn’t expect any of them to. Back in the early days when Wen Ruohan gave her free rein to form a team, she had chosen her men and women carefully. She picked the loyal, the humble, the competent, and even the brave, but she had searched into their eyes and made sure she could not detect any trace of blood-lust. Those, she argued, should be kept on the front line where the enemies are. The disciples at her side need to be efficient, obedient and nothing more. That, is paramount.

“Useless!” Her expression darkens, and her friendly, teasing tone vanishes in a heartbeat. “Why does His Excellency even bother keeping you lot around? Get out.”

Her Wen disciples do not need to be told twice.

“You,” she stops Wen Tinglu. “Bring me another cup of tea when I’m done. Try not the ruin it this time.”

“Yes, Wen-guniang.” The boy bows repeatedly, backing out of the room and nearly tripping on his feet in the process.

Once she is left alone to do her work, she turns back to the Nie disciple. He has closed his eyes, trying, she imagine, to retreat somewhere deep in his mind where there is no pain. He will not have much luck with that.

She steps up close to him, so close she can smell the sweet metallic tang of his blood. “It would be easier if you told me your name. I’ll keep you in mind, as I keep all of them in mind.”

“Go fuck yourself, Wen Qing!”

Wen Qing takes out a small vial from her robes. She let the darkness slip from her disguise just a fraction. “I’m sorry I have to do this, but this will help. You’ll be with your family soon I promise.”

The prisoner’s brows furrow, and he struggles in vain as Wen Qing forces the liquid into his mouth and makes him swallow it.

“What did you just give me,” he pants, retching at the vile taste of the potion.

Wen Qing does not answer. She closes her hand over one of his and whispers against his ear.

“The Sunshot Campaign thanks you for your service. Now, don’t forget to scream.”

And he does.

Half a shichen later, when the screaming and begging quiets, Wen Tinglu returns with a fresh cup of pu’er. Wen Qing looks up from the meticulous washing of her hands as he enters, jittering and quivering, his presence announced by the cacophonous tune of the chinas clinking against each other in his tray.

The boy meets her eyes, then steals glance over her shoulder to the flayed carcass left on the rack. He’s only just able to set the tea down on the table before doubling over and throwing up onto the dirt floor

Maybe the pig’s intestine was too much...thinks Wen Qing, rubbing her arm where she has also made a cut into herself.

Each clan has their own collection of forbidden practices, some more than others. Wen Mao’s rise to power was not entirely achieved by following the path of righteousness. One does not, after all, defeat an enemy like Xue Chonghai without a deeper understanding of the other side. This kind of cultivation is bordering on the occult, and it demands a heavy price.

Wen Qing is completely depleted; she hopes it does not show. Her spiritual core has never been cultivated to be strained in such a way. She can’t go on like this forever, she knows, but the war is far from over, and the path she has embarked on stretches endlessly ahead.

“Burn him. I want a clean finish,” she says to Tinglu and takes a seat. She drinks her tea and closes her eyes.

The boy does as he’s told, but he barely has enough gumption to grasp the torch and light the Nie disciple’s body aflame. It is no wonder then that he does not notice the protection talisman carved into the prisoner’s back.

#corie replies #btsf #Anonymous #wen qing #cql #the untamed #mdzs #before the sun falls #corie fics

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hydemind · 4 years ago

Note

Your thoughts on Isaac, William, Frankie an Jack 🎤?

OHHHHHH CROW I COULD GO ON ABOUT THEM FOR HOURS.

this post is SUPER FUCKING LONG so for the first time in my life im using a read more link.

I'm gonna start out with Will, who, a little fun fact, isn't actually named William! His full name is Willis Grossman. His parents thought it'd be funny. Will doesn't know his full name.

Here are some other fun facts about me and @functionentropy 's Will (along with other characters below) (he is also the one who has been making this entire creepypasta interp with me! Go check out their art or else /lh):

Will was born in the late 1800s early 1900s!

His parents were a lot like a Bonnie and Clyde duo, and they cared and loved for Will very, very much.

Will always looked up to Isaac! He wanted to be exactly like his grandpa when he grew up. Isaac was also a wonderful grandfather as well.

Will, on his 13th birthday, got Isaac's mask as a gift. When he got it, Isaac said to him: "keep it safe. It's a family heirloom.", Will uses that excuse as to why he still wears it to this day.

Speaking of Isaac, he's the underrealm equivalent to a tumblr sexyman. Everyone thinks he's hot shit, but that also goes for a lot of serial killers residing in the underrealm. Will unfortunately had to see his grandfather on magazine covers talking about the underrealm's HOTTEST NEW KILLER. He hates it.

Will ran away from home after Isaac died at around the age of 20 to 21, and considering he was a legal adult, his parents couldn't do much. They're still looking for him. (How, you may ask? Well, a little thing about the underrealm is that it stunts growth. You're essentially unable to die of old age down there. Think shitty immortality. His parents are looking for him, and they know he's in the underrealm- so that's how they are still around!)

Will had the worst time in the underrealm for the first few years he was down there. He wasn't immediately enrolled in the institution and he had a hard time holding down a job. Eventually he met Frankie! They live(d) in an apartment together. The first time Frankie met Will he thought he was Isaac and told his landlord and him HELL NO. Frankie does not like Isaac. Cue [will's offended gasp] and him saying he's his GRANDSON, and WHY IS HE ACTING LIKE ISAAC SUCKED? Cue Frankie making fun of him for being a grandpa's boy.

Frankie and Will had a bumpy relationship for a while. Will wasn't always a good person. Not really bad, just a fucking dumbass.

Speaking of Frankie...

Here's stuff about Frankie!

Frankie's origin story is essentially the same in this interp. Except for the fact that Frankie very much HAD A PAST. (which. If u wanna know more........I would love to talk about it......but this is about CURRENT Frankie so if u wanna know more bro just pop up in my dms or send another ask im feeling wild tonight)

After Amy passed (which was NOT due in part to the operator in this universe. The operator just found her like that) he was found by Bell (prince beelzebub, ruler of the underrealm at that point). You should know Frankie wasn't always an adjusted and normal fuckin person. He was like a rabid dog for a good while there.

While Frankie was unhinged he fucking death rolled Daisy the first time they met. (Daisy is an oc! I'm willing to talk more about him if you want the deets. He's interesting :]) because of this Daisy is the only one allowed to openly make fun of Frankie. (Playfully, of course.)

Daisy and Bell both basically helped Frankie adjust to society.

Frankie is autistic! So is Will. And Isaac. All. Everyone. Everyone has autism. (Shhhh. i'm projecting.)

Frankie can see souls! He's a very good judge of character because of it. However Frankie doesn't know what he's seeing is people's souls.

Frankie goes specifically after bad people. He'll take jobs from bad people, but he'll kill them, too. He says "he's sending them back to where they belong".

Frankie was the first to really show Will killing isn't just something you do. It's more than that. Will had never really processed death and murder of his fellow man like that before. He has a hard time even processing people as people sometimes, outside those of whom he cares for. This is because of Isaac. Isaac taught Will that people are bad- all of them. And that killing them is preventing them from hurting others, even if they haven't yet.

Frankie is a good guy and honestly a softie deep down. He worries and cares for all those who are close to him, even if he doesn't act like it sometimes.

Frankie says Toby "kidnapped him" and "made him diseased". 1. Frankie can very much leave the household at any time and 2. Frankie is referring to the operator sickness. Speaking of that-

Frankie was dragged through the operator's own personal hell! (Aka the realm they reside in more often than not, aka the place that Tim gets tossed around in near the end of marble hornets.) Reason being was because he threatened Toby's life. The operator is very protective of Toby.

Speaking of that, someone else was around when Toby met Frankie...

ONTO LAUGHING JACK!

ohhh man. Oh man. Oh baby. This clown is FULL of illness. Alright. So let's start off simple:

Lj was of course, made for Isaac. That's still a consistency. What isn't is that lj was around Isaac for a lot longer than in the original story. They developed a very close bond over the years they knew eachother, but, all good things must come to an end.

Lj returned to his box when Isaac left for boarding school. However, unlike the original story....Isaac didn't really come back to open the box. In fact, the most Isaac did was...well, I'll wait to spill that for Isaac's part later.

However! Eventually the house got passed off to another family. Years, and it mean YEARS later someone found lj's box in the attic! They were an unfortunate casualty.

After this, lj went and hunted Isaac down. Cue gore filled murder scene.

Things to note: LJ feels HORRIBLE about what he did to Isaac. He regrets it everyday. He wishes he had never done that to him.

But, time skip a bit.. we're further in the future now. LJ has his carnival set up and hidden away in an empty spot in the forest. He eventually comes across a wandering spirit because of this. This wanderer just so happens to be Sally!

LJ takes her in and swears to protect her with his life. In a way, you could say he sees her as a chance of redemption.

Sally was a wandering spirit, meaning she never really was stuck to one spot in particular- also meaning she wasn't very strong. Because of this, LJ gave her some of his own angelic essence. This boosted Sally and essentially made her a poltergeist!

(Note: Sally doesn't know how she died. Also, none of the things in her og story happened to her in this one. Fuck mishimishi. All my homies hate mishimishi.)

A little while after this they actually meet Toby and Jeffery! But this is getting long and to explain THAT entire debacle would make it even longer. but again I fully invite you to send more asks or just straight up dm me if you wanna know!

Now, last, but certainly not least..

ISAAC GROSSMAN.

OH MAN. Isaac is a DOOZY. Just like LJ, this baby is chocked FULL of illnesses! *slaps the top of his head like the roof of a car* but also, fair warning here: im gonna be talking about some heavy stuff. Abuse, physical and mental, gore, just. Death in general. Cannibalism, and EXTREME MENTAL ILLNESS *loud airhorn* so if any of that stuff gets to you steer clear of this part!

Anyways, let's start out simple!

Isaac was born in victorian England.

Isaac's mother was terrible towards him. I'm talking mental and physical abuse. She was a horrible, horrible woman.

Isaac's father...he wasn't a good person either, but he didn't beat Isaac. Nor did he really mentally abuse him either. He just...let it happen. He didn't even hurt his mother like he did in the original story. Isaac's mother was just plain bad for no good reason.

Isaac was sort of. Born having mental illness. They didn't just develop for him due to the abuse he experienced, though they certainly DID make it worse. There were other mental issues he has now that developed due to the abuse, however.

LJ was quite literally a godsend for Isaac. Metaphorically and not Metaphorically. LJ made Isaac happy, gave him comfort, and was basically like the mom he never had.

that's why it was so hard on Isaac when he had to leave lj behind. For a while he even had hallucinations of lj while in boarding school (which only furthered his future belief that lj was a hallucination brought on by the need to cope).

Isaac's first technical "murder" you could say was at boarding school. He pushed a shitty teacher down the stairs when there was no one around and they died. It wasn't even premeditated- more like it just sort of..happened.

Eventually Isaac graduated. When he did, he promptly returned home and killed his parents, as you do. /s

Isaac killed his mom in a rather violent fashion in comparison to his father- he whiplashed her so hard she fucking died.

Not long after this Isaac started his..well. I guess you could call it career.

Basically you know what happens after that. human skin chair, yadda yadda yadda, underrealm's sexiest killer, you know the drill.

Isaac did more than the human skin chair though! In fact, he uh. He. He did a lot. He did. SO much. But that was because Isaac believed in not wasting any part of the body. Which means Isaac not only made human skin chairs, but he was an avid cannibal, as well. (Fun fact, this very much extended to Will's father, mother, and Will as well. Will didn't know they were eating human for a long time. He had to realize that on his own.)

Eventually, Isaac punched his ticket because of LJ. But..I'd be a liar to say he really died.

No, our wonderful boy Isaac didn't die. He became a ghoul. Which, by the way, only further fucked with Isaac mentally! He's so ill. Some other things happened which I won't say here because they're spoilers for the fanfic I'm working on (Oh yeah the hyperfixation is that bad, but if you wanna know, again, I fully invite you to ask), but basically Isaac eventually gets taxidermied by, drumroll please..TOBY!!!! yeah. Toby does taxidermy as a job. He invited a new type of it for taxidermying Isaac. It was to repay daisy for something he did for the group.

But to say, again, that THAT was Isaac's end, would be another lie! No no no. Isaac was alive during the entire process! The good news is that he's never looked better after he escaped daisy's house when it got exploded by Frankie. Which..that's uh..another story for another day. This post is already insanely long and I am NOT putting it in the main tags.

So yeah! Im absolutely crazy for these dudes and I love all of them. By the way if you couldn't guess before Frankie and Will very much get together and are so so gay. Another little thing: Isaac is gay too, he had a past relationship with a man by the name of Dr. Locklear! Locklear is French German and his accent shows it. They were very close but fell out because of Locklear being involved with the institution and...a certain foundation.

I'll leave it to you to ponder on that one.

#if you have any specific questions about them feel totally free to ask!!!! im so insane and i WILL talk about all of them for hours given #the chance #asks #shut up murphy #ALSO please dont reb/lo/g this im a little afraid of me and tropy's ideas being stolen sgjndfk #th ank

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squeeneyart · 5 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 5

AO3

Beta reader was @thesnadger!

Some thoughts on where to go next.

Martin is as helpful as he can be.

Their business finished, Jon and Martin exchanged a friendly “See you tomorrow” and went their separate ways. Jon turned on his heel and took the first turn out of sight. Martin, still holding his groceries, pressed his head against a nearby building and said under his breath, “God, you’re predictable. Smiles at you once and you’re done for. Must be a record.”

It had been a nice smile, though. Maybe at some point he would get to see a non-nervous one, the kind where the person’s face seems to open up like- No, he was not going to fall into poetic daydreaming, not this soon. Good lord.

He stood up straight, fixing his hair and checking for any witnesses. With the coast clear, he started the long walk home. It was fine. Martin wasn’t a complete idiot. He would accept the good news that Jon didn’t despise him and would roll with it, trying his best not to muck it up with more stupid mistakes. Then, with either their time used up or the investigation completed, all three of them would be gone.

The thought struck him hard, and Martin almost stumbled from the emotional whiplash. It had been, what, a day and a half? Surely not long enough to miss them that much, especially the person who had only just started being nice to him ten minutes ago. But Martin knew himself better than that.

Jon had been nice, just as Tim and Sasha had been nice, and he was going to miss the company when they had to leave. It was natural to feel sad about it, he told himself, but eventually their leaving would be a relief. The one-sided affection would have no room for hoping or growing otherwise. At the same time, he might as well enjoy the company of interesting people. Interesting people who wanted to help him, even! Jon had said he’d wanted to work together to figure things out, so that’s what Martin would try to do.

As long as it didn’t get him fired. As long as nothing they did fucked over any chance of employment. As long as his place of work didn’t eat him out of a hunger for vengeance.

Pushing those sour thoughts deep into the back of his consciousness, Martin focused on the morning’s events the rest of the way home. Plans of action formed in his mind, most of them related to the task at hand, a few needing to be waved away as wishful thinking. There was work to be done.

It took quite a bit of digging through crumpled and disorganized paperwork he’d saved from many unsuccessful attempts at employment, but after lunch, Martin sat on his bed with his original work contract. At the bottom was the signature of Peter Lukas, and in the bottom left corner was the stamped Lukas family crest, which Martin had seen every day on a small plaque adorning the lighthouse interior, right over his desk.

It was a simple and rather generic image of a black and white shield, framed by an albatross and a laughably inaccurate seal that Martin couldn’t help but gawk at years after he’d first seen it. He wondered if the artist responsible had had to work with someone telling them what a seal looked like from memory or if the family just hadn’t cared too much for accuracy. Based on the strange ideas Peter would spout at times of how the ocean worked, Martin would bet on the latter. Maybe the whole family was just like that?

Either way, it was equal parts ridiculous and unnerving as it lurked over Martin’s shoulder during the work day but didn’t have much use to him otherwise. He was no expert on symbolism and there was nothing he could see that would relate the crest to the task at hand.

Martin leafed through the work contract, glazing over benefits and salary before stopping on the section labeled “Employee Assignments and Other Expected Duties”.

“Sec. III. The employee agrees to the following non-exhaustive list of duties:

-Be present at the premises between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, Monday through Friday, including lunch break. -Complete bookkeeping for the employer, Mr. Peter Lukas, using materials delivered to the premises on Monday morning. Delivery will always be completed by the employee's set arrival time at 6am. If nothing is delivered, contact the main house for further instruction to procure materials. -Clean the interior of the premises at regular intervals, including the main entrance, bathroom, kitchen, and upper floors. -Between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm, complete the maintenance list of the top floor (see Sec. IV). This must be completed once every day of the week, including Saturday and Sunday, between the hours of 6 am and 4 pm. There is a zero-tolerance policy for lack of completion. -Inform unexpected visitors of the proper procedure for scheduling a paid tour of the premises (See Sec. V) -Accept packages and sign for if necessary.

Martin looked over the list, biting his cheek. He’d grown lax on staying until 4pm, but with Peter’s general lack of awareness, it had never come up. Otherwise, the duties seemed in line with what he remembered. He looked down to Section IV.

“As referred to in Sec. III, the employee will complete the following tasks during the hours of 6 am and 4 pm every day, including Saturday and Sunday:”

Following this was the list he had long ago written down and taped to his desk. There were no details relating to the purpose of each task, just procedure. He’d kept to the instructions consistently, every switch flipped and seemingly-pointless button pressed, though he’d been very close to missing the 4pm mark on several occasions because of the dreaded walk to the top. This list, again, wasn’t much help. He went over the document a few times then set it aside and flopped onto his back, scattering some loose papers to the floor.

He’d need to find some other angle. Research was a non-starter for him without experience, and as far as his town knowledge was concerned, it wasn’t wrong to call him forgetful in that area as well. It was likely he’d have to accept his part as an amateur tour guide. It didn’t feel like enough, but starting Monday, he’d be back to working and have no time to help anyway, unless their work somehow kept them late into the night.

Jon had been nice with all the working-together talk, but Martin knew he wouldn’t be of much use at all. If he wanted to be helpful, he should begin prepping for dinner.

As evening turned to night, Martin and his mother sat at the dining room table in silence, interrupted only by the light clinking of plates and utensils as they finished the pan-fried chicken and vegetables in front of them. Weekends were always better meal days, always leaving Martin feeling more satisfied with his cooking with all the time he had to focus on it. His mother showed no greater signs of enjoyment than eating without complaint.

“Mum, can I ask you something?” Martin ran his thumb against the smooth metal of his fork. “It’s about work.”

Martin’s mother paused from eating another bite of her meal. “What is it?” she asked, frowning.

Swallowing hard, Martin said, “How much have you had to deal with the Lukas family? There’s this research project being completed and it’s involving a lot of history, so I thought since you’ve lived here so long-”

“Long enough, yes.” Martin could see her nostril twitch. “They came in long before I did and will most likely stay until the fish run out. Otherwise, I kept to my business and they kept to theirs. No reason to get involved with people who wouldn’t bother walking down the hills on foot.”

“Right, it’s just-”

“I don’t feel like talking, Martin,” she said, her voice cracking slightly at his name. “My throat is too sore.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll get you some more water.” He picked up her glass to refill and bit back any other questions. Next to the sink was his mother’s pill case with the current day’s compartment still full. “We’ll get your meds done now, then. Should help a bit.” His mother didn’t respond, having already returned to her dinner.

Afterwards, she requested to step outside. “The night air is good for my lungs,” she argued as a matter of fact, and with no way to dissuade her, Martin completed their little ritual of walking out the door and standing in the fog-filled night in silence, his own face covered in an old scarf. His eyes watered in the dry, salty gale, and he wondered how much time it had taken for his mother to withstand the sting without any tears.

By mid-morning the next day, Martin had finished his duties upstairs. Sitting at the table, he listened to the group’s progress from after he had left them the day before. Spread across the table were photocopies of what looked like legal documents, some of the bare spots between them filled with used mugs of varying sizes.

“We weren’t able to stay there for long before it closed, but we were able to look up some records at the library yesterday,” Sasha explained, sifting through the papers. “Not a terrible archive, all things considered. We’re going to head there again tomorrow morning for a more in-depth look. We didn’t even get to looking for details on the construction of this place.”

“But!” Tim waved one of the copies above his head. “We did get some info on the Lukases themselves. Current residents in town, major stakeholders, that kind of stuff. And-” He pressed the sheet close to Martin’s face. It was a copy (of a copy) of a newspaper article featuring the lighthouse, with some figures standing at the entrance, including one Peter Lukas. “Martin, d’you know anything about the person who worked here before you? He’s one of the younger ones in the family, standing on the left.”

Martin scratched the back of his neck, squinting at the photo. “A bit? Evan Lukas, he was really nice from what I’d heard.”

Tim frowned, lowering his arm. “‘Was’?”

“Yeah, he passed away before I started working here. Peter said it was some heart thing. Runs in the family.” Tim slumped. “Sorry! I’m surprised the records didn’t say so. It was a pretty big deal, really shook people. It made the front page, though I never read the details.”

“Did you ever meet him?” Jon asked, tapping on the rim of his empty mug.

“Sort of? We went to school around the same time and were only a few years apart, which was weird since you wouldn’t expect him to go to a state school with a family like that? Anyway, that was years ago, but even after that you’d hear about him. He was gone for a while, actually, but somehow he ended up in this old place a few years back and, well, y’know.” Martin rubbed his hands.

“Hmmm.” Tim leaned back in his chair, flipping a pencil between his fingers. “Okay, well, that’s one person we probably can’t talk to outside of spookier means. Is there anyone who knew him well?”

Pausing for a moment, Martin said, “I think… no, yeah, he was engaged, but his fiancée left town pretty soon after he died. Don’t know anything about her except she wasn’t a local.” Silence stretched over them as Tim sat in his disappointment

“Well, shit,” Tim let out in an overblown sigh. Sasha patted Tim’s shoulder in sympathy. He grinned at her. “That’s all I’ve got, then. Time to call it a day?” he asked, earning himself a pinch on the ear.

“We’ll just have to go over the items we have until tomorrow,” Jon said, his sigh brimming with exhaustion. “Who knows, we might’ve missed something the first time. Before that, Martin, who was the person we missed yesterday? Would they be worth talking to?”

Hesitating, Martin responded, “Maybe? But if you’ve already got a way to look up historical stuff, it might be better to skip this one.” Jon raised an eyebrow at him and his stomach dropped at the attention.

“It’s just, he’s an eccentric person, difficult to track down, and while he knows the Lukas family pretty well, it’s only because their families do business. His family, the Fairchilds, they’re not a huge family in this town, but this guy, Simon, he’s, well. He’s this small, old man, right?” Martin tapped his foot, looking for something to say to end his babbling. “And you know the cliff behind the lighthouse? It’s got at least 150 meters straight down to sea?” The three nodded, and Martin smiled, his brows furrowed.

“Years ago, he dove right off the damned thing.”

Tim gaped over the railing, his breath floating over the edge. Sasha and Jon gaped slightly less, and from a safer distance, though that didn’t seem to save Jon from the effects of the harsh, cold wind that sent him shivering through a nothing of a windbreaker. Far below the cliff’s edge, down past the wind-worn rock and smattering of trees, through a thin layer of fog that cradled the seaside, there waited an incredibly harsh landing of sea and stone.

“But there’s a fuckload of rocks down there?” Tim sputtered.

Martin kept his gaze straight forward. “Yeah.”

“And even if he just hit water, I mean-”

“Made it out just fine.”

“And you were thinking of just skipping this guy? I don’t care if he’s unhelpful, I want to see if he can fly or something.” Tim stepped from the safety rails, giving one a good pat.

Sasha crossed her arms, eyeing the drop. “Do you know where we can find him?”

Martin scratched his face. “Most of the time he comes here to see Peter for business. Peter absolutely hates it since it’s usually out of nowhere, and Simon always claims he does it because he likes surprises, but I think he just likes to be irritating. Otherwise…” Turning to look at the lighthouse, Martin said, “I do know where Simon lives, and while I can’t guarantee he’ll want to speak to you about anything specific, he definitely loves to talk.”

“Is there anything he’s said to you about the Lukas family? Or the building?” Jon looked at Martin intently, clearly doing his best to not shiver.. “Anything that might’ve seemed like nothing more than gossip or reminiscing?”

With Jon staring at him, Martin’s brain sputtered to a stop. “I-I don’t think so? Like I said, he’s eccentric, so it’s hard to pick apart anything he says as being sincere or as a joke. He told me he was once a firebreather, and I still don’t know if I believe him. Sorry, I know that’s not super helpful.” Martin rubbed the back of his neck.

Jon relaxed his gaze, his corner of his mouth quirking down just a little. “It’s all right. If we can get a hold of him, we’ll ask him some simple questions and hopefully sift through any confusion. Right now, we can all stop giving ourselves vertigo and get back inside. It’s freezing out here.” Jon made a show of shoving his hands under his arms and walked back to the lighthouse.

“Poor guy’s circulation is shot, honestly. Could get hypothermia walking into a basement,” Tim teased behind his hand, not bothering to lower his voice as he leaned toward Sasha and Martin.

“Ha. Very funny.” Jon sent a withering glare over his shoulder and slipped indoors. They followed him back inside, and while the other three sat to discuss possible interview questions, Martin got another round of tea going. He had to have some of those to-go paper coffee cups somewhere in these cupboards, but no amount of looking revealed them. Instead, he managed to find one lonely travel mug and contemplated his options.

Would it be too obvious? Would Jon consider it him joining in on the teasing? At the thought of Jon stubbornly standing outside in a too-thin jacket, Martin resigned himself to whatever reaction he would receive. Either way, he'd get something warm in Jon’s hands so the little pang in his chest would go away.

When Martin brought him the mug, Jon looked suspicious but didn’t complain.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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