#idk if I can tag ei I feel this looks like I’m ragging on her but I am just really a believer

[stardustdiiving]

One major thing about any hypothetical Ei and Wanderer reconciliation scenario to me is the fact Wanderer refers to her as his mother many times but Ei never once is shown referring to him as her son—or any indication she sees him as family at all

I think this would make any reconciling more messy in a way I find interesting: I really feel you’d have to sit Ei down and basically explain to her why Wanderer has mommy issues. You have the fact she sort of views her “letting Kabukimono go” action as something done on his behalf/a neutral well intentioned action with no malice, but I honestly think Ei might have an easier time understanding how that could be perceived as abandonment than she would understanding it being like, specifically parental/familial abandonment

In a way I think is a consistent trait in her character I feel Ei has spent a long time struggling to really consider other people’s emotions, wants and needs + if she has any sort of responsibility for them when she makes decisions. To me it’s the same sort of logic she decides it’s for the best she just leaves Kabukimono somewhere once it’s clear he can’t fulfill the purpose she made him for that drives her deciding to just let the Shogun run amok on taking people’s Visions—she has good intentions with both but doesn’t really seem to consider that other people might have emotional reactions to her actions—even post her second SQ we see her be genuinely confused why one of her citizens was scared of her and thought she would attack him for beating her in a card game

So with Wanderer…after the fact she’s clearly trying to be better about change and not closing herself off from the world post AQ, I think I can see her coming to ne sympathetic about how he may have been hurt by her actions and seen it as abandonment. But I really think the familial dynamic aspect of it would really confuse her and I think her struggle to be on the same page as Wanderer there would make it hard for him to feel really satisfied with anything. I really think you’d have to have like a third party come in and be the one to explain why Wanderer views her as a mother because i feel if Wanderer had to be the one to do this it would be unbearable for him emotionally ejjchfnfj

Which is so tragic especially if you consider Ei as someone who does care a lot about family via like, going off her relationship with Makoto. She understands it but I think has a very inhuman idea of it and I think would struggle to stomache or conceptualize creating More family after Makoto’s death for a while…it’s something she’d have to work up to. JJSNXJX. I can see Ei feeling she owes Wanderer something and trying to adhere to what she understands of Wanderer’s perception of their dynamic but Wanderer finds it really awkward and can tell she doesn’t get it and it’s honestly fine because it’s not like he really wants her as his mother at this point in his life

I just really like the idea it’s never really going to work out fully because of this gap in how they both perceive relationships and each other dynamic wise. Ei who doesn’t see Wanderer as family in a way that makes Wanderer realize she’s never really going to fully get it even if she does feel remorse and apologizes but is kind of just over it and thinks it’s more comfortable for both of them if they just don’t force their dynamic to be anything significant

[writersrealmbts]

Clearwater Springs: Part 9

SDescription: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: idk

Posted: 08/18/2021

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,463 words

A/N: Okay! Remember, two free-write and one survey chapter, which means the next survey chapter will be chapter 11 (technically they all are at this point), which means that the survey at the bottom of this post will be on part 10 as well. Sorry for the wait.

Previous ~ Next

You were in a warm cocoon, and you weren’t about to disturb it.

Yoongi was in cat form again, stretched out against your back, purring now and then in his sleep.

Namjoon was snoring, but you didn’t care because he was warm and his heartbeat was strong, and he was well-built. Strong enough to make you feel safe, soft enough to keep you comfortable. He was your haltija.

You lay in a comfortable doze for a while, smiling when Yoongi moved so you could pet him and he fell asleep again.

But then someone was sneaking in and over, fluttering above the ground and peering at you.

You yawned a bit, then turned to reach out both hands to him.

Jimin smiled and took your hands, gently pulling you from between the other two and into the air.

You grinned as he set you down on the floor by the bed, admiring his wings. His feathers looked shinier already, and the colors of his feathers seemed more vibrant. Happiness made such a difference in fairies.

Jimin tugged your hand gently, pulling you out of the room and down to Jin’s room.

The door swung open silently, revealing the most adorable sight of Jin and Jungkook cuddling. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around Jin, and head on Jin’s shoulder but still tucked close to Jin’s neck. Both of them looked so peaceful.

Jimin shared your smile, then tugged your hand again as he carefully closed the door.

Taehyung was being bearhugged from behind by Hoseok, drowsily watching some cartoon show that had the volume down as low as possible without muting it.

Hoseok murmured now and then, and pressed airy little kisses just barely into Taehyung’s hair--probably completely unfelt by the dryad. But he glanced over and smiled contentedly at you before whispering something that got a sleepy smile out of his companion.

You tugged on Jimin’s hand this time, drawing him into the kitchen. “Help me make them breakfast?”

He nodded.

You weren’t an exceptional cook, but you could make basic foods, and the boys didn’t seem to mind basic foods. “Did you sleep well, ma mignonne?”

He nodded emphatically. “Yesterday was tiring.”

Yoongi stalked in, scowling tiredly at you. “You left.”

“Sorry, mon chat minou,” You apologized, leaning over to peck his lips.

His eyes widened.

Jimin huffed, latching onto you again.

You leaned back into his arms and tilted your head back for a kiss.

He hesitated, but did kiss you—softly. As though you were a bubble that would pop at any moment. His lips soft against yours.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, keenly away of two more sets of eyes on the three of you.

Hoseok, probably already knowing the outcome, came over and claimed his kiss. “Morning, aluemdaun.”

You hummed happily at his casual compliment, curling your fingers around the neckline of his shirt. “Darling.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wide, and he slowly came forward.

You watched him with a soft smile. “Good morning, Taehyung. Did you sleep well?”

Taehyung nodded slowly.

You kissed his cheek, brushing over the spot where you kissed him with your thumb as you looked over his face. “Good.”

“So...does everyone know...about….” He gestured vaguely to your arm.

You nodded, smiling a little more. “Everyone knows. You can ask them anything about being soulmates that you want. You can touch them, hug them, kiss them, and they’ll have no room to complain because they’re stuck with all of us for the rest of our lives—provided all goes well.”

Taehyung started to get hints of excitement in his eyes. “Hugs?”

“As many as you like. Jimin gives especially good hugs.” You nodded toward the fairy, who was still cooking under your instructions.

Yoongi took Taehyung’s hand. “After we’re out of their way so they can make breakfast.”

Taehyung didn’t seem to accept that, turning and hugging onto Yoongi despite the werecat’s protests—loud as they were.

But Yoongi waddled himself and Taehyung out of the kitchen, and out of your way. And Taehyung forced his hugs on the werecat without avail.

You returned to your fairy, directing his actions with little gestures, happy when the food turned out well—just as Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook joined everyone downstairs.

Jimin greeted them with a chirpy ‘Good Morning!’ while ushering them to the table. “We just finished making breakfast!”

Jungkook looked like he was still half-asleep, movements languid as Jin helped him to a spot at the table.

Yoongi was still trapped by Taehyung. “Stop it. Stop it. Let’s not do this. Stop it.”

Taehyung ignored him, nuzzling the were-cat’s neck until suddenly the were-cat shifted and escaped. Then he pouted, looking hurt and sullen.

Jin chuckled sleepily. “Come here, Taehyungie, we’ll catch him later for you to cuddle. Sit next to hyungie to eat.”

Hoseok easily claimed the seat on the other side of Taehyung. “Yoongi-hyung was probably just hungry, Taehyung. He’s not very forthright, but—” he dropped his glass, eyes glazed and far away. He frowned, hands hovering shakily over his plate.

You glanced at Jin for a moment.

Jin got up and went around to Hoseok’s side.

Hoseok’s gaze cleared slightly, but he looked shaken. “I need my crystal ball. Need to get upstairs.”

“I’ll help you,” Jin whispered softly, helping him up. “Even breaths, Hoseokie. Keep calm.”

Hoseok nodded, leaning into Jin. “Need to look. Need to see.”

You watched them go with a little worry, but you knew Hoseok would be fine as long as Jin was with him.

Today, you had work to do.

After you had made sure that Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin had ingested an adequate amount of food—and helped Yoongi make plates for the two that were absent—you went to your room, silently asking your waters for some good working clothes.

Your waters ignored you and gave you a dress, but at least the dress wouldn’t expose your body every time you moved.

Jimin was waiting with Parsley by the front door. “You’re going to the library, right?”

You smiled and nodded. “I have work to do. Are you coming with me?”

“You can’t go alone,” He said nonchalantly. “Too dangerous. Especially with a dark mage about.”

“True. But I wouldn’t like it if you didn’t want to come with me.”

“I want to,” He answered quickly, looking a little sheepish. “I really like it there. High ceilings. I can fly even though it’s raining.”

You smiled. “Alright, then.”

You peeked into the living room, noticing that Taehyung had ‘captured’ Yoongi again and that both were watching a movie with Jungkook and Namjoon. “I’m off to the library with Jimin. Be back later. Someone check on Jin and Hoseok if they don’t come down in an hour?”

“Mm’kay,” Namjoon answered distractedly, but you saw Yoongi look over at you and nod.

Rain didn’t bother you that much, it was just water after all, but Jimin seemed a little averse to it, so you made sure he had the umbrella. Not that it was much of a rainstorm, the gentle pattering drops far more soothing than harsh. Pleasant and somewhat warm.

There was a truck sitting in front of the library, and Valina was under the overhang of the doors, glaring at another person.

Jimin gently touched your shoulder and took off to watch from a distance, a distance from which he could easily intervene if he needed.

You carried the closed umbrella up to those waiting, wondering what was going on. “Hello Valina, how may I assist you?”

She glanced at you, eyes widening slightly, panicked a little.

“Ah! You must be the librarian, I am Grendel,” The dark mage said, turning toward you and bowing.

You froze, but tried not to display your panic. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Yes, well, you see, as well as conducting my own business, I was asked to convey this load of books to this…charming town’s library.” He eyed you. “I had not realized that this library was run by a xana.”

“I had not realized my species could be of any interest to any being other than my own kind,” You answered evenly. “There is a room around the side of the building for after-hours book deliveries and donations, and the sign is right there, as well. I believe that lettering is large enough for any to read.”

“Ah, but I have…certain donations that need special care, and I wished to convey the instructions in person—as I was telling this…fiery, young woman.”

“That’s witch to you! And I told you I could have given her the instructions.” Valina crossed her arms.

“And I told you, there are certain things that only a librarian can understand. This place has special vaults for…dangerous tomes, does it not?” He turned to you.

“We would have to ask the owner of the library,” You answered vaguely. “I have not been informed of any. If you would be so kind as to deliver the rest to the side room, I will call the owner and have him come and talk with you.”

“I was specifically instructed—”

“I understand,” You cut him off. “However, I have no answers as to security for dangerous tomes, and for that, the owner is required. Once he has answers in regards to the safety of such tomes, then we may further discuss the tomes staying here. Until then, please patiently wait in the delivery room around the side of the building. I shall not ask again.”

“But—”

“You have about five seconds before I start singing: can you bare it, mage?” You asked, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

His mouth clamped shut and he bowed stiffly. “As you have asked, so shall I do.”

You nodded firmly and moved to the front doors, waiting until he was pulling the truck to the side of the building before unlocking the front doors and ushering Valina inside.

“Are you crazy? He’s a dark mage!” She hissed the moment the door closed.

“I am…very…aware…of…that…,” You said in between trying not to hyperventilate in the ensuing panic.

Jimin landed and quickly wrapped his arms and wings around you, forcing Valina to back up. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely crazy.”

You just hugged him back with all of your might. “Need to call Jin.”

“I’ll do that,” Valina said, regarding you and Jimin and just a tiny bit disconcerted.

“It’s a trick, right? He’s just trying to get to you, right?” Jimin asked, sounding panicked.

Parsley twined around your feet, mewling.

“Where’s his pheonix?” You whispered.

You saw Valina look up sharply.

Jimin let go of you and shrunk, darting off to look.

You went to the desk slowly, sitting down and beginning your work. “He stop at your shop first?”

“Not exactly. Had a feeling.” Valina leaned against the counter, frowning. “A faun pointed him out to me, and my brain worked from there. My coven will ward the town. We’ve already been setting up protection wards on people’s houses, so most people should be safe at night. Except your house. But you have a haltija.”

“And a were-cat, and a djinn, dryad, seer, incubus-fairy mix, and a human that I swear has magic in his blood.”

“Mr. Kim definitely has magic in his blood,” Valina said, eyes flashing pink. “Ancient magic, but it is there. His family tree is made of touched and clearsighted.”

“Touched and clearsighted?” You asked.

“Touched people have a sort of intuition, they get a sense for things quickly—especially in regards to the magical. They tend to become fighters, people who protect others from…less-savory magic. Clearsighted folk can see through all magical protection that would confuse other humans. Why do you think he didn’t become a slobbering fool upon seeing you? Yes, he sees you’re hot as hell, but, because he has clearsight, he is able to resist that pull and instead focus on you as a person. Me? I have special charms to resist folk like yourself and stay a decent witch.” She looked you over and quickly looked away. “Though, I think it’s about time I recharge them.”

“I appreciate the effort,” You murmured, thinking about Jin and grateful for the distraction that she had been trying to give you. “There’s still so much I don’t know about the world and about people. I only knew my people.”

“Might help if you came into town more often.”

You looked at her quietly until she met your gaze with a little regret.

“Nevermind, that would be mass chaos and not pleasant for you. Forget I mentioned town. Let me ward it for your protection first.”

“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”

“I won’t. My coven planned on putting up warding to protect from…unwanted behaviors.”

“You’re the police of the town, aren’t you?”

Valina grinned. “Yup! But don’t worry, we have people we answer to as well. Now, if we could get real town status, then we’d probably elect Mr. Kim as mayor—”

“Never gonna happen,” Jin said firmly, walking quickly over to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, standing up. “I sent him around the side to the drop-off area and Jimin is looking for the Pheonix, but he’s been gone since Valina called you.”

Yoongi shifted and ran out to see if he could track down the fairy.

Hoseok was looking a little…out of breath.

Jungkook seemed to be visually assessing you.

Namjoon was talking to the doorway.

Taehyung was looking around, awestruck. “Hyung…this place is so beautiful….”

Jin kissed your forehead and then glanced at Valina. “Got any extra protection charms?”

She patted her pockets demonstratively. “I was in a bit of a rush, toots. Apologies. Take the Djinn with you, he can use magic to protect you and it’s stronger than even a dark mage’s. He can protect you if he wishes.”

Hoseok gripped Jungkook’s arm. “No.”

Jungkook looked both surprised and hurt. “I can do it, hyung.”

“No, it has to be…” Hoseok looked desperately at him, then at you. “It has to be you. I…can’t tell you why…but I know….”

You could tell it was killing him to say it, tearing him up inside. “Okay. If you say it must be so, then it must be. Jungkook could protect us from here, correct?”

Hoseok considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, now please sit down. You look so pale,” You pleaded softly, gently, touching his arm.

He relaxed a bit and pliantly let you guide him to your chair.

“Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon; please look out for Hoseok, I have a feeling he’s going to be having a rough day,” You asked, picking up Parsley and setting her in Hoseok’s lap. “Pet the kitty.”

Hoseok let out a small breath of an amused laugh, then did as told.

Then you and Seokjin went outside to meet the dark mage.

Grendel was waiting, looking patient, casually unloading boxes from the truck, but he quickly set aside the box he was carrying as he noticed your approach.

“This is Mr. Kim, the owner of the library. Mr. Grendel had inquiries about secure vaults for…dangerous tomes.”

Jin nodded. “I am only allowed by the government to approve of certain types of tomes. What is the nature of the tomes?” He pulled out some paperwork.

“One is a necromancers guide made with dragon leather,” Grendel said, looking worried.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

Grendel nodded. “Dark magic that must be locked away and never let out again. And that one…that one should remain off-record if possible.”

Jin was quiet, partially frozen. “Where is that one?”

“Still on the truck. I didn’t want to unload it if it couldn’t stay here.”

Jin nodded slowly. “I know a place where it can go. I’m assuming you don’t want to know it’s final location either.”

“That would be correct.”

“Okay. And the other tomes?”

“A Demon Book, a Crimson portfolio, and the notebook of…Fausto Vilareyo,” Grendel finished, not meeting your gaze.

Your heart seemed to stop.

Jin was looking to you. “Fausto Vilareyo?”

“The first dark mage,” You answered, trembling.

Jin nodded slowly. “All of these fall within what I am able to take in. I will care for the notebook and the necromancer’s guide.”

You nodded. “I….”

“Can you go get me some notecards?” Jin asked, providing you with a brief escape. “And a pen?”

You nodded, turning and fleeing the presence of such an evil book.

The others startled when you hurried in.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked, pausing in his task of what appeared to be drying Jimin’s wings.

“Yes. Did you find the pheonix?”

“No,” Jimin said, drooping. “No sign of it.”

“That’s fine,” You said hastily, grabbing some things for yourself.

“Slow down,” Valina advised, “before you drop everything you’re trying to pick up.”

You just nodded and raced out again, pausing before the corner and composing yourself.

Grendel conveyed the instructions for the last two books, then bowed. “I thank you for guarding these relics. It has been a long journey to find a safe resting place for them.”

You dipped your head very slightly. “War makes many things difficult, though they be difficult to begin with.”

“Very true. I must be off. Many more false trails to lay,” Grendel said, bowing once more. He hesitated in leaving, though. “I know it may not mean much, but I apologize for the wrongs that have been committed toward your kind. I had never seen one of your kind in person before now and I regret not knowing. I do what I must, though, and for that I know I would never be able to listen to your songs. Thank you for your benevolence toward me, even knowing I am of the kind that is dangerous toward yourself.”

“If you continue to remove dangerous things from those who would abuse them, then I wish you luck,” You said, meaning it. Not just anyone would turn over what they had found to be locked away. And while his dark magic was fresh and potent, perhaps it was because he needed it to get those items. “May I ask, what were you doing in the forest?”

He blinked in surprise. “The forest? Oh…I…I’d actually heard that the forest was quite nice and I have this stupid pheonix that’s bound to me and he goes and gets into all sorts of trouble if I don’t properly exercise him.” He looked around. “Thinking of…you haven’t happened to see a pheonix?”

You shook your head rapidly.

Jin shook his head as well.

He sighed. “He probably went after the dragon magic, the stupid fledgling. Well. Either he gets eaten or he learns a lesson. Thank you for your time.” He bowed again and hopped into the truck.

“Dragon?” Jin asked, eyes wide.

“The river dragon, probably,” You offered.

Jin looked at you like you’d grown a second hand.

“Jungkook and I ran across him when we were passing the time before going to look for you. He’s my river-kin, apparently.”

Jin shook his head, showing you the vaults for the books you would care for, how to access them and such. “Of course he is.”

“Hoseok looked pale.”

“Yeah. He’s not as strong as he likes to convey.”

“Are any of us?”

Jin kissed your cheek. “Probably not.”

You ran your fingers along the mortar between the bricks. “Do you think he had an ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. You want to stay at the library?”

You nodded. “I have work to do. Jimin will probably stay with me.”

He nodded. “I don’t think Taehyung will leave now, either. Is that okay?”

“He’s cute. Jimin and I can keep an eye on him.”

“Okay. I’m going to take the others home, then. Make sure Hoseok gets some water, food, and rest.” Jin kissed your cheek. “Don’t speak a word to the others about what books are hidden in the vaults. Or about the books I will be hiding. It’ll be safer.”

You nodded firmly. “Agreed. It’s for their own well-being. Hoseok knows.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Yoongi stalked up in his black and grey form—his largest form—and then paused, getting ready to leap into Jin’s arms.

Jin stroked Yoongi’s head. “Hey. We’re okay. Thanks for worrying.”

Yoongi just snorted and rested, acting like he’d intended to fall asleep in Jin’s arms.

You reached over and scratched his head, then went into the library to finally do the work that you hadn’t been able to get done in the past three days.

–

Post-Chapter 9 Survey

Previous.  Next.

Masterlist.  Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

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[delicrieux]

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta. 

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up. 

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?” 

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow. 

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

.

hope you liked it! xxx

.

[thewritingstar]

26&27 with Butch and BC?

26. “Do you ever think?” “27. I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

Okay I’ve never, at least I don’t think I have, written in 1st person perspective. So imma try it and you should all let me know what you think. If its good great if not be honest because I trust the opinions of you very much. 

----

This was bad, this was really bad. I thought the situation was under control, Blossom told me it was! But the pounding in my head was becoming too much. 

Of course right when I feel my brain pulsing, Bubbles loud ass had to belt out a sonic scream, in soprano none the less. My hands cup around my ears as the pounding increases. If I wanted to fly, I would be met with even more pain. 

Flying and headaches are a no go. 

From above I can see the monster stand and rush behind the building to be out of sight. 

“Hey Butters.” That voice. 

“Not fucking now Butch.” I scold and thankfully my head lets up. 

I don’t even have to turn to know hes wearing that shitty grin before waltzing his pansy ass over to me. “What ya doing?” He asks in such an annoying matter. Fucking asshole. 

I can only scoff. “Saving the day moron, now get lost.” I try to shoo him away but like a pesky bug, he won’t leave. 

“I know that dumb ass. Red sent me to get you. We got a new plan.” 

My eyes finally meet his. “New plan? Blossom didn’t-”

“Yeah don’t remind me. I’m not sure she even knows what I’m about to do.” His laugh was dark and my shoulders shuttered. 

“What are-HEY WHAT THE FUCK.” My scream is muffled as my body is jolted into the air and-did this bitch just throw me? I can feel the impact of the ground behind me as my head looks towards the sky. 

The stomping of the monsters feet vibrates through my body and my eyes widen as I understand now. Human bait. Fucking great. “Do you ever think?” I yelled as a shield activated just inches from my face allowing for the fire breath of the monster to not roast me alive. 

“Nope.” He smirks before hosting me up like some fucking rag doll, yeah my boyfriend was absolutely the kindest. 

So now my face is plastered into his chest and another shield encapsulates us like a bubble of steel. How come he got this cool ass power? Where was mine? Hello chemical X? Yeah thanks for giving everyone special powers but me, fucking douche bag. 

The claws scratch at the dome and I can just see the moment where we become cat posts for the overgrown lizard. I may have super powers but I don’t trust this plan, especially since it didn’t come from leader girl. Brick might rival her in almost everything but she had the title of commander and leader for a reason, not his dumb ass. 

“Butch.” I try to reason with a growl. Maybe he’ll drop it so we can get out of here and just blast the son of a bitch but he doesn’t listen but tightens his hold on me. 

“Relax” And in a flash the shield disappeared and reformed smaller around us, barely saving us from another claw. 

This death grip on me doesn’t allow me to get away and even if i could, I wouldn’t be able to tear down the electric green force field.“ I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

Above us i hear another crash come down on the shield. The impact made it bubble and I heard his breath hitch. “Just shut up woman. We are not gonna die so quit bitching” He scolds me as if im not the one whose gonna die first if the thing were to fall. 

I can heard the scream of Bubbles again and my head goes back to a violent pounding. I can also hear Blossom scolding the fucking shit out of Brick as they attack he monster while its still occupied with the hamster ball bait that is us. 

“Your hair smells good.” 

“Fucking creep.”

“um yeah i think I can say that about my girlfriend ass wipe.” 

“Well you smell like shit.” Lies. He smelt like fresh pine but he didn’t need an ego stroke, not when we are being useless due to him. 

He lets out a chuckle and I only roll my eyes and don’t even try to wiggle out of his grasp. Its a little comforting knowing that I had the person I trusted most by my side in times like this. 

“They are almost done.” He says and I forget that the only view I have is of him. His face is stern as he focuses on the monster and yeah know, not killing us. One of his arms is stretched to the side to keep the force up and I wonder what it would feel like to have that sort of power at my disposal. 

“Remind me why we were bait and not the blues?” It really wasn’t fair. Bubbles secretly loved being the bait. The way she flew faster than anyone was kinda cool and she had always loved tag as a child. 

“Because Boomer isn’t fire proof and neither is Goldilocks.” And with that another flame of fire hits the surface followed by Blossoms ice and a loud crash. 

It makes sense and soon I feel the breeze hit my back and I never noticed how stuffy it was inside. Butch still has a hold on me before pressing a small kiss to my lips. “See. I wouldn’t let ya die babe.” He winks and I wanna hide my smile but I can’t.

“Yeah whatever.” I lightly smack his arm before he finally releases me. “Still sucks we couldn’t do anything, or at least I couldn’t” 

He wants to respond but before his mouth can open a large pink blast sends him flying into the nearest building with a loud crash.  

“DO NOT EVER DO THAT AGAIN BUTCH!” Blossom yells before turning towards me and grabbing my cheeks. “Oh Buttercup I’m so sorry, someone.” She glares at her boyfriend who is sitting on the sidewalk pouting next to his blue eyed brother who looks like he is gonna cry, poor dude. “Decided to use you as bait and I for one did not agree because you could of just smashed that monster and we could have been done with it.” 

I bit back a laugh before hugging her. “Its okay Pink, you saved the day so all is well.” She huffs and nods. 

“I guess so but it was still dumb. I am surprised you didn’t try to kill Butch.” 

I looked towards where she sent him flying and he finally stands up from the rubble with a thumbs up and I laugh out loud this time. “Yeah but I trust him. Now Im going to go see if he’s alright and maybe you should deal with your puppy dog.”

Blossom smiles softly before turning. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” 

“Me too.” And I mange to get to my boyfriend who is leaning against the rubble. 

“Sup babe.” He has a cut on his forehead and I swipe away the blood. 

“Looks like you got a good beating.”

“At this point I don’t know who the real monster is.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Blossom yells from fifteen feet away. 

“GOOD!” He yells back with a smile. “I’m her favorite.” 

I snort before he throws an arm around me. “Well Boomers my favorite.” I joke. 

“THANK YOU.” We hear Boomer shout before Blossom tells him he is still on time out and not even Bubbles puppy eyes can make her reconsider. 

We both laugh. ‘So wanna go get a milkshake?” He asks. 

“Sounds good as long as you never use me as bait again.” 

“no promises.”

“Ass wipe.”

“Bitch” 

“i love you.”

“I love you too.” 

-----

Hi heres me never writing 1st perspective ever again cause its TRASH!!!! Also i think they would be in high school or maybe 19 in this? idk your choice but anon im sorry if this was trash. 

[newl0ndonfire]

@wolfinogotbored (idk why I can’t tag you but I tag you in spirit) @lxnxlyghxst @murderhous @macaroni-necklace and whomever else saw and was interested

do any of y’all remember that story I mentioned writing a while back? I was going to post it for pride month but that didn’t happen since I was really tired thanks to work, so I’m sorry about that.

I wrote this story because this girl in my math class had to write a five(ish) page original story for her social justice class about a utopian or dystopian society that talks about something they talked about in class. her original idea was a utopian earth but all men were killed a century or more ago and if a baby is born male, the baby has a sex change so they become female. needless to say, this made me uncomfortable (why would you want to commit large-scale genocide against something people don’t choose? how is that a utopia? you do realize your teacher is a guy, right?), so I proposed a different story. she ended up liking my idea more but didn’t want to write it, so I told her I would because it was something I’d love to write myself.

anyways, I wrote this in like four hours and I doubt she proofread it, but it’s under the read more. comments and likes are appreciated!

Teachers and professors must either love listening to themselves speak or feel very passionately about what they teach, Nina muses.

As she walks home with her Catherine, her best friend for as long as either can remember, she ponders this and their teacher’s lesson, which they been released from only five minutes ago.

Nina can usually pretend to listen to her fellow blonde and best friend babble, unfortunately Nina simply can’t process what she’s saying today. They had their only class together this year today, but Catherine was whispering to Nina for the entire class.

Suddenly, Catherine turns to Nina and Nina can tell that she’s been caught.

“You know, we don’t have to walk and talk if neither of us are listening.”

“I’m sorry Catherine. Professor Roger’s lecture today wasn’t what I was expecting. I can’t stop thinking about all the years of meetings and debates that went into making the world like it is today.”

“It’s fine girl,” Catherine laughs, “I feel the same way. Can you imagine, a society that’s not separated by gender? It’d be so different.”

Nina smiles weakly at that, still lost in her thoughts. She distractedly says goodbye to Catherine, but knows that as best friends, she will be forgiven.

The walk to her apartment is still a few minutes longer, and Nina takes the time to reflect on how the world she knows came to be.

Differences between boys and girls had always been known, ever since humans first walked the earth. Oh sure, the differences were usually not too big of a deal, but 138 years ago, numerous world leaders gave up on appeasing both men and women with their proposed taxes, healthcare plans, insurance rates, and more by creating a city for men, a city for women, and a train connecting the two together that runs once in the morning and once at night every day. By keeping the two genders separate, it was believed that the governments of each city could better focus on the needs of its people as they relate to their gender. Besides, the cities themselves are often based off of stereotypes about the genders, but the people in the cities tend to be accepting of ideas and people who do not follow their city’s stereotypes.

As she turns around a corner, Nina can tell she is heavily distracted by her musing. Most people choose to either eat dinner or stay at home rather than venture outside at this time of night, as the sun has not been down long enough for it to be much cooler than the day was, so she is quite startled by plowing through and knocking over another person.

“Aaaaaaah!”

“Aaaaaahhhh! Please don’t kill me!” The person begs as they scramble backwards until their back hits the building’s wall.

Taking time to bring down her pulse, Nina peers at the shivering person in front of her. They are trembling in fear, covered in dirt, and wear little more than rags. Bruises and small cuts mottle their face, their skin is pale, oil and grime are clear to see in their brown hair, and their body looks slightly too skinny to be healthy. They clearly live on the streets, but Nina knows that there is both enough housing and food for everyone in Girl World. On first glance, the clothes appear to be dark grey or black, but Nina looks closer at the person’s clothes. The shadowy alley makes everything appear darker, but their clothes are too dark to belong to someone from Girl World.

“Are you, you know, a boy?”

The person whimpers and shies away, alarming Nina to the fact that she probably should have asked the question in a nicer way.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have that in that way,” Nina says as she crouches down to be at eye-level with the person. “Are you okay? What’s your name?”

“My name’s Jason, but I go by Jace”. The person curls inwards, as if they expect Nina to hit them.

“Alright Jace. Did you miss your train for Man Land?”

Jace’s eyes widen in fear. “No I-I don’t belong there. I know I was born and grew up with people thinking that I’m a guy, but I know I’m not.”

Nina has heard rumors of people feeling a similar way before. Alexa, a girl from her elementary school, told Nina about how she didn’t really feel like a girl most days and how she wished she was a boy instead. Nina didn’t understand at the time, but someone must have overheard them talk because the next day, Alexa was forced to sit on her own while the teachers looked at her with disgust. Alexa didn’t return to school after that, and all Nina can think about is how this is her chance to make something right in the world.

“It’s okay Jace,” Nina says soothingly. “I can’t say I understand how you feel, but I don’t think how you feel is wrong. You’re your own person and no one can tell you how to be yourself.”

Jace looks equal parts relieved and confused by that, as if she had never heard such a thing before. While Nina knows that her mom raised her to be far more open-minded than others, it seems impossible for someone to grow up without hearing similar reassurance from their parent or teachers.

“So, you don’t think I’m an abomination?”

Nina is thoroughly confused by Jace’s question. “How can you be evil for something you didn’t choose to be?”

Jace ducks her head down in shame, as if shedding tears at such a heavy subject was something to be ashamed of. “It’s what I was raised to believe.”

A lump forms in Nina’s throat, and she swallows before she can continue speaking to Jace. “You’re being yourself, and there’s no way someone can be wrong for being themself.”

Jace looks up, misty eyed and choking back tears. “Thank you.”

Nina offers a comforting smile to Jace. “You’re welcome.” Thinking once again of Alexa, Nina reflects on what she would be willing to give to Jace so that she can feel more comfortable with her gender given how she can’t feel more comfortable about her surroundings. “Are you here most nights? I can give you some of my unused or older clothes and stuff if you want.”

Jace’s smile at that shines despite the dim world around her.

                                                           ***

When she gets home, Nina goes through her nightly routine mechanically. She does her nightly aerobics and yoga, showers, eats dinner, and brushes her teeth in a daze. The same few questions swirl around her head.

Will Jace be safe tonight? How long has she been living on the streets? How many people feel the same as her? Is this normal for people like her?

She doesn’t rest easy that night.

                                                           ***

“Nina? Hello? Earth to Nina!”

Nina shakes her head, needing the physical reminder that staying in her own head doesn’t help anything. As much as she would love to help Jace more than she has been able to in the last week, outright telling someone about her would most likely not help her situation.

“Sorry Catherine. I’ve just been really distracted lately.”

Catherine quirks up an eyebrow at that. “I’ve noticed. You know, you can always talk to me about whatever you’re worrying about.”

Nina thinks about how to respond for a second and manages to only open her mouth before their teacher, Professor Judith Rogers, sweeps past and interrupts.

“I’m sure Nina appreciates the sentiment, but sometimes friends are simply not enough to help alleviate a problem”.

Both girls flash their Professors a smile, and they continue working, though Nina is still distracted.

                                                                       ***

“I’ve noticed recently that you’ve been distracted in class, Nina.” Professor Rogers clearly doesn’t pull any punches when she demands a private meeting. Her fingers are steepled yet her grandmotherly face provides Nina with the strength to finally tell someone about meeting Jace and how she’s been trying to help yet doesn’t understand how she can truly help her.

When Nina finishes, Professor Rogers simply lifts an eyebrow, as if asking if there was anything else Nina would like to share. “I had expected the world to change and start treating transgender people better a long time ago.”

Nina gasps while her mind begins racing with even more questions. What’s a transgender? Does it mean someone like Jace? Who does she know who has a similar secret to Jace’s? Is there a safe place for Jace to go where people will understand her? Is Professor Rogers like Jace?

Professor Rogers raises an elegant hand to stop Nina’s internal questions. “Before you ask, no I am not transgender myself. My wife - yes, teachers and professors can have private lives, thank you very much - was before she was murdered in the so-called accident eighteen years ago at one of the clothing factories in town. The supervisor at the factory where the incident occured believed that people were born either one gender or another. Frankly, I did as well, until I met my beloved Fran who showed me how that idea hurts people and kids like her.”

Nina is still shocked into silence by her beloved professor’s secret. She never would have guessed that about her professor!

“Thank you for bringing your friend - Jace, you said? - to my attention. I have known for a long time that change has been needed, but I did not realize how dire the situation was until you brought it up. I will talk to my supervisors immediately about this. Something has ought to be done, and fast. People deserve better.”

Nina is dismissed and walks out of the room shocked, yet hopeful for the future.

                                                                       ***

“…This change has been a long time coming, and I sincerely hope that it can help ease the strain of conforming to a set gender roles in the future. Thank you.”

Nina snaps back into focus when she hears people begin to clap after Girl World’s mayor finishes her speech. It’s only six months after she first met Jace, and already people have been incredibly willing to change and accept people who are questioning their gender or don’t see themselves as a boy or a girl. Plans for a slightly smaller city for the people “existing outside of the gender binary”, changes to the train tracks between Man Land and Girl World to include the new city, and an increase in the number of trains running between the cities each day would have seemed impossible only a few short months ago.

“Hey Nina, wait up!”

Nina turns, shocked at hearing Jace call out to her so openly, and even more so when she sees Catherine jogging alongside Jace.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Catherine and Jace both flash smiles at Nina. “Good news! I’m gonna be in your class with that professor you were telling me about! You know, the one who let the changes of today even happen.”

Nina’s mouth drops open in shock. “I’m so glad to hear that! When do you start?”

Jace flashes an even wider grin. “Today!”

Catherine claps Jace on the back. “I can’t wait for you to be in our class! You’re going to love Professor Rogers, I just know it.”