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lovee-infected · 4 years ago

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Hello!! Can I request headcanons about gn mc who got sick (with fever or something to the point they can't go to school) and the twst boys decided to visit and take care of them? I've always enjoyed your headcanon! Thank you!!

Riddle Rosehearts

He's got much of a weak immune system himself so he's usually prepared for unexpected situations like this. He knows what to do.

Just lay back against your pillow, do exactly as he says and you'll return to full health in no time

He'd probably be really angry if he finds you out of bed without his permission or spending too much time over your phone and reading books; he insists on you resting and much as possible.

He agrees on being possibly a -bit- over protective but he doesn't mind. If this will do any good at your healing process then he's more than okay with it.

Whenever you tell him to stop over stressing himself because of you he just goes: " Me ? Over stressing? Of course not! If you wish me to be calmer than I already am, then stop playing around and rest well till you get better."

He truly does work his hardest for you while you need him, from takings notes of what has been teached during your absence to spending at least 2 hours a day with you, making sure that nothing goes wrong.

As the strict leader of Heartslabyul, he usually spends most of the day watching over students and checking whether they are doing good at school and exams or not, but for now he cuts back on these responsibilities to take care of you. He may not shout that out loudly, but he always puts you before any other responsibilities he might have. Perhaps he enjoys spending time with you just as much as he enjoys having fresh strawberry tarts.

Trey Clover

You were still trying to catch up with the classes but Trey just knew that it'd be too much. It was him who made you forget about the school and instead, rest in your room.

You are a bit stressed out about not being able to take care of your chores, but thankfully he is there for you. He isn't known as heartslabyul's mother for no reason, make sure that he knows how to caress and pamper you better than anyone else.

Aside checking on you every day and bringing you additional medicines and food, he makes sure to collect notes of everything that is teached during your apsence so you won't have problems catching up with the studies afterwards . No need to mention that his cooking on the other hand is stunning, 5 star chef Trey at your service.

He understands that it might be a bit boring laying down in bed without anyone to talk to, so he often comes to you as you need someone to talk to and also brings you your favorite books to read so you won't get any bored when he can't be there.

He never says a word to make you feel any bad or frustrating about being nursed by him, instead he knows how to motivate you to get better even sooner: " Nursing you is absolutely adorable, but I don't want my dear (y/n) stuck in a bed all day while I'm willing to show you way more exciting things than a just couple of books,"

Cater Diamond

Clones, clones and clones :Time to get to work! The best part with it is that he can always make sure to have at least one of his clones watching over you even if he's busy with school or stuff, not that he lets you know what he's doing though.

You wonder why Cater's staying with you 24/7, as a third year student, isn't he supposed to be like, really busy with studying? Cater assures you that there's nothing to worry about, and it seriously isn't. He can always catch up with everything even his actual self stays all night at yours.

While his use of clones might seem a bit tricky, he still makes sure to provide you with anything you as long as you're sick need and even more: Bringing you roses and chibi, stuffed animals as gifts, along with sweet chill chats whenever you're awake, sending you soft love quotes with a bunches of colorful hearts and kisses via text even as he's right beside you, He enjoys how you'll need to look up your messages to see what he texts you allthough he's sitting just a few meters away from you. Aw, the way you blush whenever youlok at your phone, how cute~

Ace Trappola

What's the purpose of going to school when he does not understand a single word of it while his mind is all stuck on you? What are doing now? Are you fine? Does your chest Still hurt? Has your pain gotten any worse? Is there someone with you right now? What if you need help??

He's about to lose his mind, he tries asking someone free to check on you but there doesn't seem to be such a person available at the moment. 'That's it , I'll go on my own'

With the help of the year gang ( Jack, Deuce and Epel) he fakes breaking his leg during a PE session and yeets off the school for an entire week. YES!

He is moving to your place for a couple of days and Deuce will cover up for him whenever someone asks where Ace is.

Ace just knows that you're sick, he isn't sure of the exact name or type of your illness. On his way to yours, he fills a bag with anything he finds at Heartslabyul's cabinets with any title as -medicine- for you. He'll later look for the right one you need between them.

When you get to look into what he has brought, you aren't sure if he's kidding or not and when you ask, Ace realizes that he's really goofed up: what he actually brought was nothing else than animal medicines, and he he literally brought you each and every of them existing in Heartslabyul; how come didn't he see the pets/only label-??

You're lucky that you already have your medicines prepared, so you tell him not to worry about it. He feels so damn embarrassed wanting to melt into earth right now, but you have to admit he really lifted up your mood. You're happy to have your cute, Crabby-haired idiot besides you while you're sick, and he tries his best to help you with cooking and making sure of you taking your right medicines on time to make up for the mess he made on his first day:" Ehehe...at least...you can use some of them when Grim gets sick, right ?"

Deuce Spade

He really wants to stay there taking care of you but... he has to go to school as well. He has to get much higher grades this semester if he doesn't want to have to spend another year as a first year.

He can't skip any of classes, but promises to spend the rest of his day after school.

He rushes with his school uniform still on to your place, not wanting to be even a second late . He has to carry some casual clothes along with his books since he wants to stay over nights if you need him.

Due to get getting in trouble a lot back at the time, he's rather educated in medical field so he knows much and less of what he'll need to do as you're sick?

His cooking isn't something he can rely on so he goes to Trey, telling that he needs some soup for Ace since he seems to be looking a bit sick lately?

He prepares your food, brings you warm towels, repeatedly checks your body temperature and when you're finally asleep, gets to his own studies. He ends up Having fewer than 3 hours of night sleep multiplr times and once, he didn't get any sleep at all.

He tries his hardest to look his best in front of you so you won't notice how terrible he actually is; when you question the bags under his eyes, he claims them to be left from the mascara which a couple of guys put on him a few days ago for fun and consistently laughs. Damn, this boy doesn't even know how to lie huh? He is literally dying, but he won't tell you a word. He can handle worse...

When you finally return to full health you realize how terrible he's been doing lately and you take rule of his nurse this time. Making sure that your cinnamon roll would finally get some sleep.

Leona Kingscholar

"My room, now". You look way too terrible to be able to make it to the classes therefore he has to make sure that you won't do anything stupid while you need to be taking some rest.

Bringing you to his own room wasn't his main intention since he just wanted to keep an eye on you but couldn't afford to visit you everyday if you didn't live any close to him so, easiest solution to the problem would be you staying with him.

He lets you use his bed but keeps on reminding you that it's just because you're sick so you better not be expecting such things to ever happen again. He would fall asleep in less than a minute at whatever he lays his head on, so sleeping on the ground isn't as hard as it seems. He just had to make sure that you would't step on him or his tail when you walk out of the bed.

He can ask Ruggie to nurse you and all, but decides to do most of your stuff on his own because it'd be a lot worse if Ruggie too gets sick. Sharing the same room with you has already put him on a pretty high infection risk so, that wouldn't really matter if he's the one nursing you or not. He doesn't really mind getting sick either, a free chance to take some days off school and chill; why not ?

He turns out to be pretty good with board games and there's no need to worry about getting bored while you can go for 100+ chess matches with Leona winning you each and every time; a bit ironic, but entertraining nonetheless.

He's actually really enjoying spending time with you, but isn't really expressing it. The only time when he actually shows some direct affection is when he plants secret kisses on your forehead as you're asleep.

Ruggie Bucchi

He has grown up in an awfully poor family with multiple siblings, so he's pretty familiar to the pain of seeing those you hold dear sick .He has turned into a not only responsible but also supportive boy toward friends and family, so you can make sure that he can take the best care of you while you're sick.

Perhaps his only problem is...Leona. He'd need Ruggie around even during school time and the hyena boy can't even have a full 30 minutes away from him which makes it impossible for Ruggie to take his time checking on you at least once a day.

Well, he has to find a way to babysit both of you at the same time so, -Let's take you to his own room-

Great ! He no longer needs to worry now that he can take care of you both. Leona too agrees on you staying at his as long as you don't cause any trouble.

Poor Ruggie has to sleep on the floor but assure you that he rarely gets to be the one sleeping on bed back in the home so, he is kinda used to sleeping on the cold ground.

He knows how to cook? Much and and less of it but who cares? He just asks you what you want and returns with it in 30 minutes; guess why: Because he'd just borrow the food from someone else. He doesn't mind his dirty ways indeed, you're sick so, you're more important than some dude wanting to chill on his food during lunchtime.

He just takes a list of medicines you may need and returns with all of them in his bag. He has to come at the right time on his own every time you have to take any of them since you'd most likely either fall asleep or forget to take them on time.

Enjoy your time with him, because it's gonna be a real luxury. He'd treat you nothing less than the way he treats Leona as he's sick so, you may consider yourself a part of a royal family at his service.

Jack Howl

Fluffy tsundere wolf is ready to give up on all he's got for you, what on earth might be sweeter than this ?

The moment, no, the second he realizes that you're not feeling well, Jack would immediately take you to the nurse office to see if you're. It's such a relief that it isn't thst serious, all you need to do is to take some rest.

Meanwhile you're resting in bed, he'll do the shopping and asks the kitchen for some soup ( You're sick you can't have too salty or sweet foods like normal cafeteria meals ) He gives up on his own meal to get some for you instead, it's just hunger of course he can handle it.

He feeds you and makes sure that you'll finish your entire meal, reminds you to take your medicines on time, brings you your favorite books to read and, most importantly, listens to... anything you'd ask him for.

He hardly ever lets anyone touch his ears or tail but if it's you, why not? You even fall asleep hugging his tail like a doll and he just patiently waits for you to wake up, blushing as he appreciates how cute you look while asleep.

Damn he has to keep the distance otherwise he as well would end up being sick but, it just seems impossible to say no when you ask for cuddles.

Jack tells you stories of his home town and national legends making your mouth drop in fascination. His stories seem to amaze him just as they amaze you and it makes him unbelievably happy to see you liking things he's been appreciating all over his life.

He even gets to the point of talking about his will to become all mighty and strong just like the magicians he looks up to, especially Leona. Just watching his strength gives you the will to overcome your illness and be at least a bit like Jack; he's really great, isn't he?

Azul Ashengrotto

No no no- Unacceptable! You shouldn't be sick, you shouldn't -get- sick- He told you to watch what you eat and what you wear as it's raining out there - HE TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES- But now what? You are sick.

Azul panicks, he keeps on exaggerating the whole thing even if it's just a normal cold. He just isn't the type to easily deal with sicknesses. Whenever he catches a cold, it'll take him weeks to return to full health due to how weak his body is and, he's so worried about you being the same.

Soup, warm water bath, Medicines , magic potions to reduce the fever, ultimate revival spells... he showers you in all of them. Even if the virus won't kill you Azul's overprotection will most likely do, and he'll get really mad if you tell him that he's exaggerating it.

When you regain half of your full health, you ask him to let you return to school and- He immediately pits you back in bed: "No leavings, not until you're done with this troublesome fever or whatever."

You feel like an adult forced to stay in a cradle and wear diapers meanwhile Azul thinks that you're too naive to take your health seriously.

When you finally manage to pull him over, you realize how sick and pale he's gotten since you got sick. The bags under his eyes proved that he hasn't been getting much of sleep recently. "God what have you done to yourself-"

You finally tell him that he's the one who needs help , not you. You plant a kiss on his cheek and force his head to your lap, wanting him to get some sleep. He slowly understands that he might've been taking it a bit too seriously, but since you are fine now, he's kinda glad that he took it hard on you. He just wants you to be safe and sound; even if his it's going to cost his own health on the first placd.

Jade Leech

Humans get sick? It's pretty rare of aquatic creatures, especially eels to get sick so Jade's pretty new to this . 'wow , pathetic , aren't humans?' he thinks . Well anyway he can't just stand back and make fun humans while you seem to be in serious pain, but what can he do? He still has a lot to learn about human life and it's his first time having one of them sick, oh man.

Well, they tell that you should get some...rest ? Well maybe he should take you to bed. First step done , let's go for the rest. He blocks several of his classmates in the corners asking for... information. He simply takes notes . Possibly useful medicines and meals, hours of sleeping, allowed activities, useful tips, warnings, etc.

He has to read the list several times to make sure that he's got it all right. Let's nurse (y/n).

He unexpectedly goes from 0 to 100 like bam- bye eel boy hello nurse Leech. He'll turn your room into a hospital room, a good one though, filled with dolls and flowers and anything he was told to add because they send away positive vibes.

His cooking on the other hand is amazing. He'll look for several light meals for sick bodies but- chooses those which match your tastes . You can't help but to love everything he cooks . Chef's kiss.

He changes your bed pillow and cloths everyday, returning with washed, silky pillows and covers . A warm, smooth bed is what you need for a good sleep.

If there was such a status he would've been the god of nursing; wow you would've needed pay him off a lot for his service if he wasn't giving it all to his darling for free.

When you finally regain your health, he just has one more question left to ask before leading you to your daily classes: "Now now dear, would you mind rating me , and my nursing service?"

seem like he's really curious to see whether he's done it correctly or not.

Floyd Leech

Things seem so uncool when you're not as energetic as always , pale skin as if you're choking on lack of oxygen and bizarreness in your movements like a doll, smh, so boring.

Just like Jade, he's pretty new to surface life and watching you bear with illness looks pretty weird in his eyes?

When Jade, finally, informs him on what exactly happens to human body while struggling with an illness and what he must do to you to get rid of this annoying mode, he understands. Floyd still finds human's body shitty for how weak it is but decides to use Jade's words as a guide to deal with you.

A warm bed, fluffy pillows and stuffed animals, these seemed to be enough for step one: Enough of rest and sleep. He can't blame you on this one though, sleeping is always amazing. Something that never gets boring. Everything seems to be pretty fine to begin with, sadly it won't last any longer than a few hours-

He's told to bring you food, but when he returns with 4 bags filled with chocolate, candy, soda and chips; it's obvious that he didn't get the point correctly. Jade explains that your body is still way to weak for too salty or sweet foods, even highly cooked meals would worsen your immune system and make it take much longer to be healed.

Floyd goes for a second pick up and this time: this time returns with raw potatoes and frozen meat- Raw potatoes and frozen meat-. Well, he just followed everything Jade told him...? Neither too salty nor to sweet, and raw because Jade told him not to bring over-cooked stuff. Even if the virus did you no harm you would've probably died under his food selections if Jade wasn't there to stop him...

While his food choices might be horrible, Floyd's still one of the best mutuals you can have close when you aren't feeling well. With him beside you, giggling and chuckling as he rambles on how boring his day was, you've got to admit that you'd rarely feel sick when he's around. Although you're sick at the moment, nothing seems to have changed between the two of you, he enjoys spending time with you now just as much as he enjoys it when you're all safe and sound.

Well...maybe he can't be the best nurse you'd get to have , but one thing's for sure: No one can ever make you laugh like he does and, you know what say: Laughter is the best medicine~

Kalim al asim

He can't be any more worried, he stresses out whenver a friend is sick and now, it's not just a friend, it's -you-, one of the dearest and closest ones Kalim had ever had; just how can he keep calm ???

He is being raised under severe health protection and hardly ever catches even a simple cold, several people had taught him strict health routines and he had to follow them all over his life, so he is considerably familiar with ways of overcoming and illness , and that's what he's here for!

Jamil forbids him from cooking since it's too dangerous if he needs to use any knifes, but that wouldn't hold him back from finding enormous food recipes based on your favorite condiments to make your meal more pleasant.

He makes sure to prepare anything you need in a matter of seconds, golden peacock or 5000 camels, doesn't matter ! He's got way more than enough and what use would be better than giving them to you?

He can take care of you on his own, but Jamil insists on Kalim leaving it all to him and stay away from you as much as possible (No need to mention the high risk of infection for Kalim since he's almost sticking to you all the time)

Jamil as well would caress you meanwhile you rest at Scarabia (Right, Kalim proudly brought you there ) and Kalim, makes sure to stay close to you as much as he can, mostly when Jamil isn't around to tell him off- He doesn't want to put Jamil in more trouble but, you are his first priority.

You're bound to your bed, but just having Kalim around brings way more fascinating adventures than what you might get to see out there. His stories really do show you to a whole new world and takes the pain in your lungs and chest way further that your mind could catch . Perhaps Kalim is he one and only who can make your mind fly, even as your body's laying lifelessly in bed.

Jamil Viper

For the first time, someone stressed him out more than Kalim always does. He's always expecting to be scared to death because of him, but because of you? Damn he didn't see this coming.

Depending on what your illness is, he manages to freak out even more or clam himself down to his sane self, but the main point is how he's got to serve you all the best until you're totally safe.

He soon prepares any kind of medicine and chemical you may need and you have to use them all properly, don't even think of rejecting any single one of them otherwise Jamil would force feed you: "Don't be such a baby, you won't get any better unless you have these"

Just like Azul, he might be a bit overprotective with your health since he doesn't even let you leave the bed for more than a few minutes. He insists on you avoiding any sort of activities that may be tiring or heavy to your body.

To be honest, the thought of using his snake whisper on you when you don't behave or ask him to stop being so strict over a simple illness crosses his mind. Luckily, he refuses to use it. You're still his lover that'd be too heartless of him to take advantage of you like this just because you can't see how much he loves you.

He needs to keep the distance, but has to admit that it can be really hard to avoid hugging and kissing all over your face when you're gazing at him with that sweet smile.

Having you close makes Jamil realize how affectionate he actually is: How much he misses the healthy and happy you who he was never in a danger. Well maybe this nursing days gives him a lesson to at least try to have some sweeter time with you while you are all safe and sound - and not tiredly laying in your bed.

Vil Schoenheit

You can consider yourself nothing less than a Prince/ Princess when Vil of all people is caressing you. Your body is still way too weak to have control of anything going on in your life at the moment, and that's how Vil takes control over all of them- all in your life. Which means that you now have to live and do as he wishes.

He will take no effort in turning you into one of the fairest of all students in school (Not that you'll ever reach him though) as long as he can have his eyes over you. His rules are way more than just -beauty- ; just as he can be the all fair and powerful Queen who steps on you, he knows how to play the role of the nurse like a Queen would do~

A royal maiden is only to serve the royal family, so it's time to show how much of a princess /prince you can be in bed. You don't need to worry about your medicines or meals since Vil's always organized and on time with them, not to mention that his cooking too seems to be pretty good. He uses light yet, nutritious recipes that you'd enjoy and you're really surprised because these kinds food don't really look tasty.

Perhaps he just needed an excuse all this time to get this close to you, so he can take care of anything he's been dreaming to do with you all this time. Pedicure and manicure, trying on new fruit masks, resting face and body muscles to have a smoother, cleaner skin, etc.

Your room is a beauty salon at this point and you usually forget that you're actually sick.

He works on not only your physical beauty but also your manners, he doesn't care if you're sick or not . It's the best time to take away your poor manners and habits.

Well the scary Queen has got his own soft spots too; while indirectly giving you beauty lessons, he enjoys teasing you as you sometimes look pretty naive and new to all dos and don'ts of a high-level life like his, and he's more than pleased to teach you: "Pull yourself together , potato."

Rook Hunt

He isn't really into the whole nursing game but- If it's an opportunity to stalk caress and admire you all night, why not?

He is lowkey familiar with the basics so, it isn't supposed to be that difficult to handle . Finding pills and medicines isn't hard either since they can all be found at mister S's shop. ( He would've liked it better if he had to get them from a moster or something, anything more adventurous)

Though he doesn't really like quiet and safe journeys he'd actually appreciate it if it's with you. And of course, he won't let anyone else take advantage. Let it just be with the two of you and all~

He isn't about to hurt or scare you in any sort way; it's true that he just loves it when things get a bit dangerous but, he knows how to manage excitement as well. You want him to be a soft gentleman? Then that's what he's going to be.

Rook would be the softest Rook you could've ever imagined when he plays the nurse. It can't even be called nursing: It's about a passionate lover spending all his time with his darling who isn't feeling well. Even his expressions are taken to a totally different level, the mysterious smile he always puts on is replaced with a worried and, mildly sad gaze that makes your heart melt.

Might sound too dramatic bug he may even sing you to sleep. Sweetest words ever dancing to the rhythm of his unique accent that make your cheeks hurt at trying not to blush. This isn't the only drama he's up to though, even his normal speaking often ends up with your mind drowning in feelings. He won't bother giving you soft kisses on hand and forehead when you don't expect it. He likes surprising you, even if it's in a romantic way.

And...the real Rook, is only out when you're asleep. Sitting on a chair just a few inches away from your bed, a pair of eyes carefully follow the pace of your chest as it rises and falls. He's never tired, a huntsman gets no sleep as long as his prey's close by. Wow, if sweetness is all he needed to approach you, then he should give it a try more often~

Epel Felmier

His first reaction to hearing of you being sick is summarised in :Gasping, Blushing, Questioning, Sad puppy eyes. "It's just a simple fever...right? (Y/n) will soon be better..." , Epel confronts himself. He isn't getting overly emotional, but when it comes to you, he does have a sensitive spot.

At first, it is his anxiety over your health that makes him want to come over to your house to check up on you everyday but , it soon ends up being more serious. What if this is an opportunity to prove his reliability? You'd finally get to see how much of a strong and helpful man he can be. Even as he looks soft.

While Epel's trying his hardesr to seem a tough as possible, you can't help but to adore his cuteness as he is doing his best while you're sick. He bakes you the best of apple pies you've ever had and you have to admit; being sick can't hold you back from enjoying the sweet taste of fresh, caramelized baked apples melting in your mouth.

Growing up to be a country boy, he never really relied on chemicals as a useful cure to any illnesses. He's more into organic ways of helping human body into regaining its lost energy, which can be put as : 1) Healthy food 2) Enough of sleep and rest 3) Lifted up spirits and enough of humor. He'd be really protective over the last option, he wants to make sure that your self-esteem and spirits would be way better than ever

He has to keep the distance, but some small cuddles would not hurt, right? Perhaps some small forehead kisses before bedtime too. He's still pretty uncomfortable with kisses but, since you're sick...that can be counted as an exception.

Idia Shroud

He's been away from humanity for too long; long enough to almost forget that humans get sick. Robots sometimes have their codings crashed or their gears damaged, that's when they'll need an engineer to repair them . How did the cure system work with humans?? He can't really remember. Due to spending time with almost nobody except Ortho (who happens to be a robot) and hardly ever leaving his room and as the result, barely getting sick, Idia is pretty new to human body's metabolism; he isn't sure of what he might be able to do for you. But, humans have something called...immune system, right? Ah something that heals body on its own. Well maybe relying on that would be enough.

He decides to give you some far distance support instead of comimg all way down to your dorm . He can't be any more happier of technology's existence for such cases. Your immune system can heal you on its own, all he've got to do is to send some motivation your way. The summary of most of his extremely motivational texts would be : "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger! Keep it up (y/n)!!👊✨💥" and when you reply telling him how terrible you're feeling he'd just try to look for strongers sentences-

He repeatedly mistakes humans and robots and accidently texts you:" why don't you get someone to repair you?" several times. Then goes to bang his head against the wall realizing how dumb he's acting.

When you get worse he gives up. Maybe those sentences wasn't enough of motivation . Idia really does want to come visit you in person but he seems to be bound to his area. Well at least, Ortho isn't, right? He comes up with a way better idea to program Ortho to take care of you while Idia can't do it himself. He copied hundreds of anatomy, human biology and medicine to Ortho's data list. Well that seems to be enough. He can now cook, wash clothes, brings you your medicines and most importantly, remain by your side all the time as you may need help. Idia puts s small camera on Ortho so he'd be able to watch what's going on as long as you need Ortho's his help. He feels quite guilty for not showing up on his own but- maybe it's just better this way. Coming in person would do no good but him freaking out at not knowing what to do which would end up in making you feel worse. Long distance watch as he controls Ortho around is way better, even if he has to keep his eyes on tablet 24/7. He cuts back on his sleeping to make sure that nothing would go wrong. Even long distance watch seems to be stressful at this point...

He does care about you, a lot, but right now, he's no prepared to show physical affection. Let him show his love through his very own ways, he's just taking baby steps with you <3

Malleus Draconia

"Now now little one, don't give in so easealy. I know you're stronger than this..." Malleus motivates you. You certainly aren't going to die just because of a simple fever but still, wow. Humans -are- truly weak and fragile. He shouldn't really be caring for a mortal being especially if it's a human, but you are an 'exception'; you always are.

He could just leave you to Lilia and Sebek and you would've been under their watch and care 24/7, but he prefers to do this on his own since you are his favorite creature. He doesn't mind seeing how you'd overcome the pain even if it's with a simple cold. He wants to get more of you and your expressions.

He doesn't really have much to do, magic can do it all. All it takes to turn your depressing room into a prince/princess's dreamy bedroom is a twist of a finger. Go on and tell him what you want , you shall have in within a second. "All the best for you, child of man~"

While his significant magic skills are all truly stunning and helpful, his presence on his own seems to be the best part of him nursing you. He is your tsunotarou, afterall~ Not the descendant of Mistress of all Evil but only when it comes to you.

Sometimes he'd make you wish you'd stay in bed forever and ever, all to have him here, by your side. Just to have his soft, slender fingers brushing against your cheek and playing with the tip of your hair.

He does talk, but most of the time being is spent in silence since he doesn't want to bother you if it's hard for you to talk. He may pretend to be busy with something else but it's just to take your mind over the fact that he's watching you all the time. His small gestures are just as sensual as his words. Kisses on forehead, locking his dragon eyes with you , brushing your soft hair with hand as you lay on his shoulder (not that he cares about keeping the distance although you're sick. Your human illnesses are way too weak to do any harm to him, anyway~ )

His favorite time of the day is when you're asleep. You're adorable and lovely all time but, your sleeping pose, it's unimaginably beautiful to him. Watching your calm face empty of any emotion followed by the calm, yet, organized pace in your breathing as your chest falls and rises. He barely gets any sleep during the night, he doesn't need it. Watching you is way more pleasing: "Sweet dreams, my precious little human~"

Lilia Vanrouge

The most experienced, dedicated nurse here. He's been raising many of baby faes and struggling with a young, fireball shooter baby Malleus over the years. Nursing a fragile ill human like you is no more than a warm-up for him.

Chill on your bed and let him take care of everything, from the warm towels to fluffy blankets and pillows. Smooth music playing in your room as you take short naps, plushies and teddy bears around your bed giving you feelings of a newborn baby sleeping in a warm and fancy bed.

That's not all, along with his professional nursing skills, having Lilia himself around would take it all to a whole new level. He is so full of contrasts; Young and old, quite and wild, wise and careless, serious and silly and probably hundreds of other adjectives you can name.

Where else would you find a nurse who'd play you your favorite rock tracks on his guitar in the afternoon while at night, brings you cookies and hot milk to have while listening to his old but -gold- stories before going to sleep?

Lilia has got it all, old, new, calm, wild, and perhaps that's how it's never boring when he's the one you are spending time with. 'Sickness with benefits' to call. But, don't forget his horrible cooking skills.

Better hide some canned food under your pillow to save yourself from starvation when he's not around, refuse to eat his food st any cost (otherwise you'll need another 2 week hospitalized because of food poisoning-)

Make sure to thank your adorable bat nurse when you're back to full health; even if your stomach's still in pain because of his nasty cooking.

Silver

It's...his first time taking care pf someone. He is neither experienced nor educated when it comes to human health... especially because of how he's been living with fairies (who barely get sick) all over his life. The only reliable source for him would be his own memories; how Lilia used to take care fo him when he was a child. There isn't much he can remember but that'd do

Nursing doesn't seem to be that hard when he actually gives it a try - Mostly about you sleeping all day. Wow if sleeping this much is considered to be a symptom of being sick, then Silver himself has to be sick as hell 24/7. He isn't really sure if that's concerning or not

He is doing good since he seems go be pretty responsible and calm toward the whole thing, but don't expect him to be on time.

Silver wants to make sure that you'll take your medicines on time but he often fails to. He oversleeps most of the time and when he's up, he'd panic knowing that you missed your hourly medicine again.

He'd lowkey feel frustrated and useless when he misses stuff because of his sleeping issues, especially when it comes to you. He have to go for a stronger method so, he ends up in using 7 different clocks and alarms to make sure that he won't miss anything anymore; you're sick. He has to do all his best to take care of you. Nobody matters more than you do. Alarm clocks he uses are freaking loud and give him a heart attack whenever he uses them to wake up. Poor guy would need a long sleep when you're better.

He often falls asleep next to your bed after making sure that you are having a peaceful night sleep. He places a goodnight kiss on your forehead lays his head at the bottom of your bed. Who knows, maybe he would dream of you tonight, again.

Sebek Zigvolt

There's no way that you'd ever come close to master Malleus but- he still cares for you, a lot. Perhaps as much as he cares for Malleus although he refuses to confess to it. He is trained and skilled for all possible emergencies so he's all prepared to take the best possible care of you and make sure that you'll return to full health in no time.

He just knows what he is doing and makes sure that things would run smoothly. He is keeping each and every aspect in consideration and can organize everything like no one else can. From your sleeping schedule to light exercises required as you're sick. He insists on you starting to develop a better life style so that you won't end up in bed and lose time like this.

It's nice to have someone keeping the balance of your life when you need it, but when it's Sebek we're talking about, know that he might go a bit -too far- with it. He'd be overly protective and strict while you need a considerable deal of sympathy and softness too since you're sick - He collects notes of everything that was teached while you were sick and brings them to you to study, telling you that it'd be impossible to keep up with the rest of the lessons unless you study them right now, in your bed. And when you complain of it being hard to read and sit due to how weak your body is, he returns with the solution: Audio books (He isn't giving up... deal with it )

Studying isn't your only issue: he's being protective over each and every muscle you move. He'd wake you up early in the morning for a light, morning work out and doesn't let you out of the bed for the rest of the day. Whenever you complain, that's what his answer would be: " Master Lilia has blessed me with these , gloriously impressive lessons he's learned through experiences within his long- lasting life!! I believe in his words from the bottom and there's surely no cure greater than this if he says so" poor boy isn't considering he possibility of Lilia tricking him again at all.

This puppy means good, even if he fails to show it as great as you might be expecting him to. In fact he is just following all that he's told to, meanwhile he's pretty inexperienced and new to it. You may find it a bit unfair but, consider that he would've never gone out of his way to take care of you for plenty of hours everyday if it wasn't for you (Or Malleus-) seeing you sad on its own gives him wet puppy vibes let alone having you sick . He may act like a coward but, it's all because of how much you mean to him.

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headcanonstation · 4 years ago

Text

Phantom Thieves having a crush headcanons

Ren Amamiya

He tends to lay it on thick

He won’t flat out confess, but he will say various things that are definitely not leaving much room for questions

He’ll use cheesy pick up lines as well as just as cheesy nicknames that are exclusive to s/o

To be fair to s/o if they don’t think he’s serious: he does playfully flirt with his friends. //cough Ryuji

He is the master at catching glances without being caught and he uses that to his advantage. No one will know he’s got his eyes on s/o

If s/o manages to catch him looking at them, he is a little bit caught off guard and his face may blush a little bit

Ren doesn’t really mind if any of his friends tease him about the crush. But honestly he isn’t going to really talk about his crush- at least, not that often. He just doesn’t see times to really mention it

Usually pretty calm and relaxed whenever he’s around to s/o. However, sometimes if s/o catches him off guard he could be left stuttering a bit. And by catching off guard is more so friendly, unexpected gestures or seeing how adorable s/o’s laugh is

Daydreams about the possibility of his crush reciprocating his affections. Honestly, he never really thinks on the possibility of rejection. That rarely, if ever, crosses his mind.

Ren starts to get really, genuinely nervous when it comes to giving an actual confession and/or s/o confessing. He kind of seems more shy-ish and blushy

Ryuji Sakamato

Oh no

Look its one thing to look at girls and think they are super cute, its another to actually find himself having feelings

He’s gonna be flustered about it like the sweet golden boy he is

Talking to them? Blushing. Seeing something that reminds him of them? Blushing. Thinking about them? Blushing. His friends teasing him about it? Look at that face, its adorable

He really badly wants to ask them out but just? can’t?

Its the fact that Ryuji seems to struggle finding the right words and is tripping over them to a point that a repeat of said words is necessary

Which leads to him kind of backing out because he’s too flustered

Honestly like a puppy

He is so bad at hiding any gazes towards his crush. Anyone with eyes can see those looks are a little too long to be one if a friendly gaze

Seems to be a lot more fidgety whenever around his crush.

Ryuji tries to be around his crush more but really struggles

Is more willing to "study" if it means more time to hang around his crush. Even if that means involving school.

Gets flustered if they ask to train with him or watch him train. Finds he will try harder with them around

Struggles with eye contact when it comes to s/o

Compliments? Oh no- he’ll become so red

Ann Takamaki

What. a. sweetie.

Whenever she knows she’ll be hanging around her crush, she’ll try to look nicer for them.

Will play with her hair a lot more often whenever around her crush

May also play with the hem of her shirt

She rather bring her feelings to the grave than say it aloud. For certain: she wouldn't be the one to confess her feelings I don’t make the rules

Doesn’t really stutter or trip over her words

Say she is cute and pretty she will for sure get blushy

Pretty good at maintaining eye contact

If they give her literally anything she grows a faint blush and is super grateful and happy

She knows giving a present can just be a friendly gesture but this is her crush let her have this

Doesn't take teasing well when it comes to her crush pls don't its embarrassing and she doesn't need fuel to that fire

Yusuke Kitagawa

A crush? Oh dear-

His first assumption was this just meant he felt a surge of inspiration for his art

He had to be told what it was he was actually feeling towards s/o

It's weird. Nothing really inherently changes with how he acts around his crush. If anything, he is just trying to be around them more now or is talking about how their beauty is unrivaled

Is really shameless whenever he looks at them and really isn’t trying to hide it

If they watch him do his art, or are just around, he finds it harder to focus and he feels a weird type of pressure now to do well-

Finds himself observing them and becomes keenly aware of some of their quirks

Yusuke is gonna daydream and someone is gonna need to snap this boy out of it

Will start trying to find excuses to touch s/o, whether he’s actually aware he’s doing that or not is up to you.

Feels kind of honored in a way whenever his crush compliments his art

Isn’t gonna confess right out the gate, mostly because he weirdly doesn’t see a reason to do it right away

Not even because of nerves necessarily

Like Ren, he seems pretty chill and relaxed. Which he is, s/o would have no idea he really is crushing on them

Makoto Niijima

O h.

Is super unsure how to approach it and it really doesn’t take much to get her blushing. S/o just looking her way and offering that smile to her will do it

Makoto finds herself often kind of "fleeing" the scene cause she just doesn't know what to do

And she isn't the best when it comes to being secretive when looking their way. Her face bursts to red if/when she is caught by her crush if she has a book handy her face is going right in there

Confides in Ann and is ultimately asking her for help

Has also for sure confided in Sae if she had any helpful advice

Someone please help her

She is pretty stiff when around her crush, even when sitting across from them

Uses school as a way to help her get closer to her crush. "Why don't we study together? That way we can help each other."

Sometimes worries she may be getting on her crush’s nerves

If they give her literally anything she grows a faint blush and is kind of not sure how to operate

Makoto kind of rather just watch from afar in a sense.

Futaba Sakura

Futaba would need someone to tell her how she’s feeling. Like, she kind of has a . . .guess of what it is she’s feeling. But she really isn’t gonna gonna grasp it

Futaba becomes a lot more talkative when it comes to her crush. A lot. Not only that but she will definitely talk with more nerdy lingo. {Someone smite her if they don't understand something she said}

While not super blushy, unless her crush touches her, she is VERY fidgety. Rocking on her heels, playing with her pockets, playing with her hands-

Stealing glances is 50/50. Sometimes she is as good as Ren, other times her skills are on the wavelength of Ryuji

May sometimes attempt to doll herself up for s/o. However, doing this is usually super subtle as well as rare

If she can, Futaba kind of prefers things like calling her crush. Because they can't see her and it helps the nerves. But the part she isn't a fan of is being unable to see them. Plus, hearing their voice over tech just isn’t the same as hearing it when they are standing next to one another

Like Ann, she would kind of prefer to take these feelings to the grave than say them outloud. It's embarrassing and she really doesn't want to feel what rejection feels like

That’s the part she’s feels the most uneasy about

Haru Okumura

She knows exactly what she is feeling. Now its more of a question of what it is she’s going to do with them

Will more often invite them to cafes or just quaint places in general

No real nervous ticks or anything, a lot like Ren and Yusuke honestly

She prefers not to confess, as she doesn't want to risk putting any kind of wedge in the friendship she has

Not like she can't though, but she will holdout against doing so for a while

Gets nervous if she learns someone flirted with her crush or her crush flirts with someone else, regardless if it's playful

May actually push her a bit more towards the idea of a confession if that happens

Offers to buy things for her crush sometimes. She can afford it and she would love nothing more than to see them smile even if its something typically expensive and they insist she doesn’t have to do that

Whenever s/o offers to help garden with her she’s already smiling so wide and sounding a little excited before she can really do anything about it

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up. my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again. Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right? Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor. When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted.

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times. “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh. We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there. Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…” He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing: "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant. "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap. “You guys have a lot more resources than we do. If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him. "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me. Just me. I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people. The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work. Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer. "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety."

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away. "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly. “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded. "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality. But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed. Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination. Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile. You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin. But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in. Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there. “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that. “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up. “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired. “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat? You couldn’t even tell anymore. Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off. In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that. You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction. Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught. And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible. It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused. “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little. "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly. Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window. It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun. “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained. “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking. “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door. You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious. “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod. He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck. Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound. The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.” We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside. You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom. You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay? Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little. “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work. “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind. You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly,

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark. The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel. It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered. “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back. “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented. “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible. Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock. He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car. A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move. You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully. That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort. “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you. “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you. His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little. “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face. “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that. “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me. I know you do. You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you. As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss. His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big. Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for. You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt. You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either. For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous. But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus. I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate. You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside. The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well. Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers. The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them. After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs. As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation. You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately. You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again. "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself. "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks. Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane. It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette. Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed. You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably. It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this. Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.' His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too. You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before. It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet. Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock. Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it. You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton. "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream. He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it. It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want. It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response. "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh? So full of my cock you can't even speak. Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word. "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you. I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder. His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust. Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder. "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered. "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely. He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality. His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you. You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets. You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince. The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine. He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever. He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that. "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next. I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that? "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly. "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking. "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel. You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you. Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side. You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse. But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.

He grinned, hugging you tightly. He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off. He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest. Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go. You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love. After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with. And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well. You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone. Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time. Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

#ari levinson x reader #dark!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x you

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locke-writes · 2 years ago

Note

Warning: Here there be spoilers!!!

Okay so once again I have no idea how to go about this so I guess?? I’m gonna word vomit??

I feel comfortable asserting that this was very intentional, at least to come degree, on the part of the authors for Wildseed and Amari, given that they are both black authors. For Skandar, though . . . Let’s put a pin in that because that one is actually quite interesting to me.

In the case of Amari, the messages are very heavy-handed: There’s constant references to how intimidating-looking people can get attacked for no reason besides how they look; Amari is bullied at her former school for being poor and also very likely for being black; in the Bureau, attention is drawn to the fact that she cannot afford her own pair of specialized shoes for an activity and she is one of the few children there who have to use worn out pairs provided by the organization; and so on. However, I need to clarify that I don’t think this or any of the other books invented the idea of magic/otherworldliness being equal to socioeconomic opportunity presented to the less fortunate – this is an old trope, and it’s frequently used in all kinds of fiction regardless of the age.

But I’m willing to bet that it’s become such a commonly used frame that it goes rather unnoticed if you’re not careful. After all, how familiar does this sound:

A world seemingly so out of reach that suddenly becomes available to the protagonist; they’re excited because it’s something they never thought they would be able to achieve, yet here they are – only “here” turns out to be less than ideal. Because “here” might have friends, but it has so many more enemies: People who look down on you for things you can’t control; people who don’t think you belong here because of things you do or don’t have; a game you have to play in order to rise up, but it’s intentionally rigged to where you will always have trouble keeping up. Maybe it’s because it’s built funny; maybe it’s because they handicap you.

Either way, it’s a game that don’t want you to play.

In the case of Amari, she is handicapped for things she cannot control, ie. her ability. In the Bureau, every applicant has a special skill that can range from being great at inventing to being able to fall yet have your stack of papers fall into a perfect pile. Amari’s skill is magic: She is a magician, specializing in illusionary magic. And considering the Bureau specializes in things like alien encounters, sasquatch sightings, and all sorts of supernatural and fairy-type stuff, you’d think she’d fit in, right? Wrong! Because the Bureau only uses a certain kind of magic; Amari’s type is regarded as all wrong due to a centuries-old stigma that magicians are dangerous. This is due to a pack of magicians having used their abilities for malevolence – once again, this was centuries ago.

Consequently, magicians haven’t been allowed to join the Bureau and anyone discovered to have any such abilities have had to remain quiet about it or risk potential imprisonment. It requires vouching from Bureau personnel who specialize in reading intentions just to convince the director to let Amari stay. And the entire time she’s there, Amari has to deal with bullying from peers – and even distaste from select members of staff -- who expect her to be a hazard and clearly do not want her there.

(Now I will throw out that in the universe established, kids can apply for multiple positions in their first year of training to stay within the Bureau. Amari, however, only applied to one – and of course it was the most coveted position with a very limited amount of slots. She did it because it was the position her brother, Quentin, had been in before his disappearance, but it was still made abundantly clear to her that if she failed to acquire it, then she wouldn’t be able to come back. It’s never really stated exactly what might happen to her if she failed, given that she would still possibly be able to do magic even if on accident. However, I’m willing to bet that they’d probably just imprison her.

But I point this out to keep it fair that she did sort of put herself in an even riskier position than she arguably needed to.)

Otherwise, Amari has to learn how to use her magic in secret through means that would raise red flags if anyone knew about it. And this is without going into how she fails her first go at a written exam because it’s filled with information she couldn’t possibly have known about due to it being on info about a world she had only just learned existed! All the while, her peers manage to get by far easier not only because they’ve been raised in this world, but also because their families could afford tutors to assure they would get top scores.

People call it unfair when she uses her gift in a very minor case for a part of the exam that literally everybody else got to use their gifts for. Furthermore, for the final part of the exams, everyone gets to showcase their skills – everyone but Amari. She has to basically force her way into her final by showing her benevolence and using her magic to do something completely innocuous as well as explaining to her peers who she is and where she comes from and why she is the way she is. And even then, the head of the organization tries to fail her.

Once again: It is a game nobody wants her to play, even when she has every right to play it.

But she plays it regardless, and does manage to scrape into the agent position she longed for.

Remember way back when I compared Amari’s opportunity of the Bureau as being akin to something of an outreach program? This is nailed in at the very end.

Throughout the book, we occasionally see a boy around Amari’s age whom she used to be sort of friends with. He’s a good kid and all, but his home life isn’t exactly great. So what did he do? He turned to gangs to fulfill that missing familial link he couldn’t get at home. Before he went off to work for the Bureau, Amari’s brother, Quentin, had been working with the kid to get him out of trouble. And even though the boy looked up to Quentin, without him there, he fell back into the gang. When Amari sees him, he insists he's trying to leave. But it’s very evident that he isn’t sure how to, or if he even can because if he doesn’t have the gang then what does he have?

At the end of the book, Amari invites him to join the Bureau the same way her brother had. She offers him a way out of the mess his life has become and grants him an opportunity that he otherwise would've likely never gotten if not for someone taking a chance on him.

This just immediately got added to the list of books I need to either purchase or pick up from the library because there's a lot going on that now you're making me what to dissect and and analyze as well

Absolutely feels like it's relying on classic tropes to emphasize a new message and I will agree that it does feel very intentional on the part of the author for Amari as it very much comes across as, yes this is the classic case of someone finding out about otherworldly things but I would say, with the added ideas of poverty influencing not just social standing but basically entire futures in terms of what you'd be able to do/what path you'd be able to take

I also am interested in the connection between the history of magic users as it may (intentionally or unintentionally) reflect a concept of being judged based on the prejudices applied to those of your ancestors. Because as you pointed out, there are many things that she is unable to change and the specific magic is one of them, not to mention having to work harder just to overcome an existing stigma in the terms of her type of magic (but I suppose many stigmas if you want to consider her being raised outside a world of magic as a stigma for the sake of this argument rather than something drastically outside any level of her control)

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medusinestories · 3 years ago

Text

Today is Two For One because these two eps pretty much follow onto each other in terms of storylines and themes etc.

Black Sails V and VI (s1 eps 05-06)

- A big plot point in these two episodes is Billy mistrusting and investigating Flint. It starts with Flint approaching Billy and claiming he wants an “honest” conversation with him (note that he’s had time to think about what he’ll say to Billy, coming back to my previous comment about how Flint does better at persuasion when he has time to script things). Flint explains that you can’t ever be entirely truthful to a crew because if you explain any risk of failure they’ll be demoralised. He also talks very briefly about Miranda, portraying her as a “nice Puritan woman” who likes books. When Billy asks if this is really true, Flint just gives him That Wink. Billy spends the episode wavering between trying to support both Flint and protect the crew, clearly conflicted. This feeling intensifies when Logan asks whether Flint will give up trying to get the guns even if the situation becomes extremely dangerous, and Billy can see that Flint is risking the lives of men to get at the guns and knows what he did on the Maria Aleyne. The last straw is the discovery of Miranda’s letter and the realisation that she didn’t prevent Guthrie from betraying them like she was supposed to. Gates dismisses Billy’s doubts and refuses to get into it, mostly in a stategic move, knowing that Flint is the only one who can get them through this battle, and that they all need to obey him in this moment.

- Speaking of battles, this is the first prolonged sea battle we get to see, and the first time that Flint is given a really worthy opponent in the character of Bryson. Bryson is extremely clever and uses both sailing and defense/siege/booby-trap strategies that make taking the Andromache practically impossible to take. Flint shows a lot of resourcefulness in response: he seems to know exactly how much his ship can take and how to handle it (in spite of DeGroot’s warnings, which end up being unfounded for once) and hammers out a good (if dangerous) strategy to board the ship. However, this isn’t enough to outwit Bryson, who’s extremely well prepared for a siege if he gets boarded and has the Scarborough already heading their way. In fact if the slaves in the hold hadn’t helped the pirates, I doubt Flint would have had to leave without the guns. Even when he’s dying, Bryson still attempts to blow his ship up. In fact, his explosive booby trap has a real impact on what happens in the end of episode 6.

- It’s interesting to watch Dufresne in his first battle. He’s clearly meant for us to identify with, as the “nerd” on the ship who’s never seen battle. Following him allows us to see the faces of a lot of crew members, to feel the tension and fear before boarding the other ship, the desperation of the battle, and... okay I’m not sure just anyone would go feral like Dufresne does and rip someone’s throat out. This is definitely a turning point in Dufresne’s character.

- Something new in Billy’s character that he is shown lying to Dufresne to reassure him before the battle, using exactly the technique Flint mentioned earlier. First he tried telling Dufresne that guns only go off half the time - not at all reassuring. Then he tells Dufresne that sailors on their crew never die in their first battle. Only after the battle, does Dufresne realise that what Billy told him isn’t true - and tells Billy that he appreciates the lie. Does this change Billy’s point of view on lying? Is lying all right, for a good cause?

- In the meantime, Eleanor is saddled with Silver. I absolutely love this plot line and wish these two had worked together some more, because they’re hilarious. Silver knows that Eleanor’s angry with him and finally gets to find out that it’s because he involved Max in his scheme, but he flatly refuses taking any responsibility for that, saying it was Max’s choice (which it was). Later, when the angry pirates are turning into a mob, Silver is clearly getting anxious and Eleanor pretending not to be, he says: "if you're pretending to remain unconcerned for my peace of mind, please don't", a line mirrored in S2, where Flint openly admits to Silver that he’s “appearing unconcerned” as a strategy (and thus establishing the Flint/Eleanor parallel). Finally, Silver confronts Eleanor about the danger of not appeasing the mob by letting Vane operate out of Nassau again; she asks him to convince her why she should - and he actually does. It takes two hours, but he actually gets through to her. In this conversation, he utters the classic line “guilt is natural; it also goes away, if you let it”. Clearly he’s had to make some nasty choices for his survival, and likely he has quite a personal experience of mobs, too.

- Richard Guthrie continues to be one of the biggest assholes of the show. In these two episodes he 1) betrayed Mr Scott by telling Bryson to kidnap him and sell him as a slave, 2) announcing that he’s liquidating his holdings in Nassau without warning Eleanor and saddling her with the angry mob, 3) shamelessly revealing to Eleanor how he betrayed her and why, disregarding the fact that she’s made Nassau what it is over the last few years, 4) is worming his way into Mr Underhill’s good books and got himself a cosy and very safe place to live while all hell breaks loose in Nassau.

- Speaking of Mr Scott, he ends up amongst the slaves in Bryson’s ship and appears somewhat disdainful towards them, mostly because he doesn’t want to knows the realities of what would happen to them if they joined the pirates (some would still be sold as slaves). Eme believes that they should still seize their chance for freedom, but Mr Scott won’t help the pirates get these weapons, which “are dangerous to someone I love". This of course is understood as being Eleanor, but it also easily be interpreted as the Maroon Queen/Madi in light of S3. In fact, it makes much more sense that he is resisting the Urca plan to protect them/his community than because he’s worried that Eleanor will be killed. Eme counters that he’ll never see this person again, which still isn’t quite enough to break his resolve. Finally, once Mr Scott has changed his mind and helped free the slaves and ended up helping Flint, he has a conversation with him. Flint decides not to tell the crew of Mr Scott's betrayal, because he’d rather prove Mr Scott wrong re: making Nassau into more than it currently is.

- Anne’s inability to bear the violence done to Max comes to a head in these episodes. First she dismisses Mrs Mapleton who’s not being all too gentle while “tending” to Max, and the brief talk between Max and Anne seems to reinforce Anne’s resolve to stop Hamund (looked him up) (but did they really need to bond while Anne pushes a phallic instrument into Max’s cervix after lubing it up? there’s clear sexual innuendo in the way it’s filmed and it’s pretty inappropriate). It’s only when Rackham sees Anne defending the entrance to Max’s tent and can’t believe that Anne would put herself in danger over “a fucking whore”, that it finally dawns on him that Anne is horrified with this situation (something he could have guessed considering the circumstances in which he met Anne). Once Max is freed and thanks Anne, Anne tells her that she didn’t do it for Max. Which is probably not completely true, but again what we know of Anne’s past also means that she didn’t want to see any woman treated that way.

- The theme of men siding together and not listening to women comes up several times in these two episodes. Guthrie says that he persuaded Mr Scott to betray Eleanor because “we talked like men and he saw reason”. The “like men” suggests that men support each other’s decisions, especially to resist a woman’s folly. The Consortium refuses to listen to Eleanor unless a respected captain, in this case Hornigold, also backs it. But of course Hornigold won’t back it unless Eleanor allows Vane to become a captain again; he considers how Vane’s men are treating the “thieving whore” to be of absolutely no relevance. Rackham opposes Anne’s attempt at stopping Hamund from visiting Max to protect her from Hamund, who he fears would harm Anne. And finally, Pastor Lambrick doesn’t believe Miranda when she tells him that doesn’t need to fear Flint’s anger.

- An answer to this is unlikely collaboration between women people in ep 6, aka, Eleanor and Anne who deeply despises her. Both of them share a sense of responsibility for what happened to Max, and believe that they’ll only feel better when Max is free and Hamund is dead. John “guilt will go away if you let it” Silver is roped into the plot, when Eleanor, reminds him that he’s a “loose end” to Flint, who will likely want to get rid of him, and promises to tell Flint not to kill Silver after he’s served his purpose if Silver helps them. Which he does, begrudgingly, and at the risk of getting murdered by Hamund at any moment. This puts Eleanor and Anne’s plan to kill Vane’s remaining crew into place, and ruffles Rackham’s feathers: he’s forced to help kill even the men who aren’t disgusting rapists like Hamund. He asks "do I not deserve say", to which Anne answers "you had your say, now I have mine". GOOD FOR HER.

- When the dust settles, we get a really interesting moment where Silver accurately analyses Eleanor, pointing out that she can’t stand to be wrong, feel weak or let anyone get away with fucking with her - which makes her in his opinion possibly more dangerous than Flint. Does this mean that Silver still thinks he had a genuine chance of winning Flint over and surviving him even without Eleanor’s help? (he’d be right, considering how his relationship with Flint evolves later on the show; perhaps the difference between Flint and Eleanor is that because she’s a woman, she can’t *afford* to show any weakness at all)

- Lambrick has his big moment in episode 6 when he rides chivalrously to Miranda in the middle of the night, hoping to save her from Flint’s retribution. Instead of really reassuring him, Miranda chooses to talk about Thomas instead. This is where we hear the most about Thomas in S1, and the way Miranda speaks about him is clearly loving and admiring. She compares Thomas to Lambrick, saying that he was also a sort of shepherd (the comparison stops here imo). Then she imagines how Thomas would have played devil’s advocate, left all of Lambrick’s beliefs in tatters, all for his own good, to free him from the yoke of shame. I can’t help but think, from her teasing tone and the way she smiles, that she believes that Thomas would have somehow debauched Lambrick. The fact that she decides to have sex with him moments later certainly supports that idea. The ghost of Thomas looms on this scene, and it could be that she briefly imagines being with him, which could explain her smile and the way she holds him afterwards. But Miranda had another reason for sleeping with him: it was a very good way to make him stop asking questions about Flint.

- And in the meantime, Flint knows that Billy has been asking questions about Miranda and overheard him talking angrily with Gates about the letter. It just so happens that Billy has to go cut off a piece of the Andromache’s sail that’s slowing the Walrus down, which puts him in a secluded and dangerous spot. The conversation between Flint and Billy is very brief: Flint asks about the letter Billy found, and Billy answers “I think you know what was in it”. Actually, no, Flint has NO CLUE what was in it. Whatever else passes between them is a mystery, and the next thing we know is Flint announcing that Billy went overboard. We see him hovering behind Gates, watching him intently, until Gates decides that they can’t turn back for Billy. The camera pans a lot on Flint’s face, and his expression is quite unreadable. At first I wasn’t convinced that he’d pushed Billy, but on this watch I’m not so sure, because of the way Flint’s face is filmed. There’s also a sort of clue where we see Flint throw Billy’s sword into the sea during the burial at sea ritual. Of course as Captain he was meant to do that... but the gesture is suggestive of him throwing Billy himself. It’s certainly true that Billy had become a thorn in his side for two reasons: 1) he was one of the rare crew members who could influence Gates and get him on his side; 2) he was much too interested in who Mrs Barlow was and what her motivations were - if Billy had alerted the crew of what she’d done, Miranda may have been in danger (a mob quickly turns against a witch who works against the crew).

- To finish on Flint and Miranda: season 1 has painted them as a unit, an inseparable pair, working as a team (in supernatural ways, sometimes). And to some extent they are. Even at this time where they are truly at odds, where Miranda has tried to take control of Flint’s fate behind his back, they are still protecting each other. Flint doesn’t reveal anything about Miranda and possibly attempts to kill Billy to protect her, while Miranda seduces Pastor Lambrick as a way to distract him from his questions about Flint. She can’t convince him to believe her, but she herself is clearly convinced that Flint is a good, decent person (as she tells the Boston judge in her letter) and she trusts that he knows that she only tried to stop him get the Urca because she wanted to save him - something he will come to accept by the end of S2 (unfortunately for them).

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mithranqueersmusings · 3 years ago

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I Think I'll Love You Too II

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following clean-up from their nocturnal experiment was far from easy, the wax seemed to crumble into tiny pieces and was determined to cover each inch of the carpet. George was insistent on doing most of the work, a struggle of manners ensued in which Ringo was adamant that he should help but eventually gave in and took up George's offer to relax in the bath.

Soaking in the warm water, Ringo's mind began to wander to their first official date. It seemed like such a long time ago now, although it had only been a couple of months at the most. Ringo could vividly picture arriving at George's house for the first time and picking him up for dinner, bruises still dotted across George's pale skin from the somewhat embarrassing but retrospectively rather comical fall at the club. Ringo had struggled to figure out the best place to take George, unfortunately the only advice available was John's.

"He's a vegetarian." Ringo emphasised for the fourth time, John had once again offered up a meat-only establishment.

"Oh, well you could've told me sooner." John scoffed, sometimes Ringo couldn't tell whether he was joking or truly that oblivious.

"What about sushi? That can be veggie, right?" Ringo was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that had been left on John's kitchen counter, a small card had the name 'Paul' written on it, punctuated with a kiss.

"Sure." John offered "You could always, and hear me out, ask where he wants to go."

Ringo rolled his eyes "Great advice John, thanks. What if he doesn't know either?"

"Then you're both helpless and you belong together."

In the end Ringo had settled on sushi, which only calmed his panic somewhat because he still had to find which sushi place was best. He'd forgotten all about how stressful dating could be, and it'd been a long time since he'd been a proper date. Eventually he settled on a fairly affordable place that wasn't too far from his house, he felt rather silly calling up to make a reservation an hour in advance but he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by not having a table booked.

This struggle with the restaurant left Ringo only an hour to get himself looking presentable for the date, his closet was emptied onto the floor and bed as he rummaged around for something suitable. He felt like making more of an effort than usual, this was one date he didn't want to screw up, especially knowing how fashionable George was likely to look. In the end he settled on a paisley blazer, it had been a gift from John years ago and had hardly been worn, and a black shirt underneath which he experimented with the buttons of.

He left himself just enough time to brush his teeth, sort out his hair and tidy the room as quickly as he possibly could. Hurrying over to George's in the car, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the date itself. Almost forgotten, because as soon as he knocked on George's door Ringo felt a wave of dread washing over him. He hadn't even thought of any conversation starters, or what he was going to order at the restaurant. As he waited for an answer, the dread only festered further. Yet once the door finally opened, revealing George draped in a decorative kimono, all fear subsided.

"Hi." Ringo spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Hey." George replied with a grin, stepping out onto the street and locking the door behind him.

The two of them looked at one another for a few moments, eyes tracing from head to feet with no words being said. George was wearing makeup: his eyes darkened with liner and mascara, his gaunt cheekbones sparkling with highlight and his lips painted a tempting shade of red. Ringo could see that he'd tried to use foundation to cover over the bruises on his face but it wasn't entirely successful, not that it mattered.

"You look great." Ringo managed to get out without stumbling over his words as they walked over to his car.

"Thanks, so do you." George responded but Ringo supposed he was only trying to be polite.

Passing a shop window, Ringo stole a glance at the reflection and found himself presently surprised at how good the two of them looked together. Ringo was even beginning to believe George's compliment, a surge of confidence arising merely from being stood next to George. He'd anticipated that George would only make him look worse, but there was something complimentary in how the two of them were dressed. It was a small boost that Ringo needed to quash his nerves, he was determined to not ruin the night just because he was feeling anxious.

"So... Where are we headed?" George asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Sushi." Ringo replied more curtly than intended "Is that alright?"

"I love sushi." George answered cheerily.

"What a relief." Ringo chuckled "I'm not gonna lie I was struggling to find a place to eat, with you being a vegetarian and all."

George paused for a moment "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did." Ringo panicked for a moment, afraid he'd said the wrong thing and given too much away but the smile that spread across George's painted lips calmed him back down.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the restaurant, it was rather busy but not so much that it would become uncomfortable. Ringo still couldn't believe his luck, that he'd actually been able to get a date with George. Looking back on how their relationship started, it was strange to consider that they'd end up here.

"Is your face alright?" Ringo asked when they'd been seated, it was hard to not notice the swelling on George's lip.

"Oh yeah, it's fine." George provided evidence with a genuine smile "I've had way worse, don't worry."

"You fall over a lot then?" Ringo joked, looking down at the menu and feeling a little intimidated by the amount of choice.

"Only when I know you're there to catch me." George winked "No, I've had my fair share of scraps here and there. That's just life, isn't it?"

Ringo chuckled "Not in my line of work, no."

"Don't be so modest, I haven't forgotten when you beat up that creep in the club." George was studying his menu with far less fear than Ringo "Any idea what you're gonna order?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo read the same words over and over again as though it'd help him understand "What about you?"

"Hmm, I think so." George answered with a confidence Ringo envied "Want some help?"

"Please." Ringo smiled sheepishly, laying down his menu and looking to George for assistance.

The date was hardly going as Ringo had anticipated, but while George went through dishes on the menu with a clear expertise Ringo couldn't stop himself from smiling. The intimidating Spike was describing in detail the difference between maki and temaki with such delicacy, it was such a strange moment of realisation for Ringo that made him truly understand how far they'd come. Ringo realised too late that he hadn't been listening to what George had been saying but it didn't matter in the end because George ordered for the both of them.

"So..." George began, drink in hand.

"So." Ringo repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"How long have you been waiting to take me out?" George asked with a knowing smile.

Ringo half expected this line of questioning to begin, he only wished he'd prepared some answers "Does it make a difference?"

"I'm just curious." George leaned in a little closer, a devilish look in his eyes.

Ringo sighed "Now I'm debating whether to lie so you don't think I'm a loser."

"I wouldn't bother with that, I already know you're a loser Ringo." George spoke deadpan, staring without expression then burst into laughter "I'm sorry, I had to."

"And that's meant to encourage me to be honest?" Ringo laughed nervously.

"Come on, tell me." George sounded almost whiny, a tone Ringo had heard before but never in regular conversation.

"Fine, fine." Ringo conceded after drinking his beer "In all honesty it was probably the first time I saw you... Not that I thought you'd ever say yes, of course."

The answer seemed to satisfy whatever itch George had "Really? I'm that good looking am I?"

"Not to sound cliché, but have you seen you? I don't think I've seen anyone more attractive." Ringo spoke somewhat seriously.

George blushed just slightly, having to look away from Ringo's intense gaze "You're sweet. But why were you even in the strip club in the first place? You didn't seem too at home, at least from what I remember."

Ringo felt rather complimented that George even remembered how he'd been acting all that time ago, he'd always supposed he hadn't left much of an impression at all and whatever he did was surely negative.

"John dragged me there. He, uh-" Ringo stopped himself before saying too much "Thought it'd cheer me up."

George squinted his eyes in suspicion "What aren't you telling me?"

Ringo paused, debating the best verbal exit strategy but the good beer and even better food was slowing his thought processes "Uh... Nothing?"

"Oh come on." George kicked Ringo lightly under the table "You think I'm gonna judge you?"

"Well, yes... But fine, I'll tell you." Ringo chuckled, pausing for an anticipatory breath "I'd been going through a bit of a... dry spell, so to speak."

A grin spread across George's face "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ringo repeated, hiding his shame behind his beer.

"I find it hard to believe that you were having a 'dry spell'." George rested his hand on Ringo's own, his finger tracing around the metal of the rings.

"Well, I'd, er- I'd still be having one if you hadn't come along." Ringo stammered "Shit, that sounds really pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Just a tad." George smiled reassuringly "I'm just glad I could be of service."

"For a while you were making it worse, actually." Ringo had finished his beer and was itching for another "With all my pent up frustration and then I see you undressing on that stage, I nearly lost my mind."

George chuckled, looking rather proud of himself "I can only apologise for being so tempting." He emphasised the word by running his tongue over his top lip onto his sharp canine tooth.

"No need to apologise, it's your job after all." Ringo tried to remain composed "And in the end it all worked out so... No harm done."

"My aching body disagrees." George pouted his still somewhat swollen lip.

"Well... That was your own fault really." Ringo joked, finally catching the waiter's eye so that he could order another beer.

"You're right, you're right." George's hand was still pressed against Ringo's "Hopefully from here on out all the pain will be consensual."

Ringo blushed "Hopefully."

Later that night it was clear that there was no longer any need to be hopeful.

#the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles #starrison #george harrison/ringo starr #george harrisonxringo starr #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #ringo starr/george harrison

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 24: Helen Richardson

It’s been almost five hours that Helen has been making the rounds of this particular house. It’s a Grade II listed building, which means that on top of the usual bankers, executives, dentists, and barristers traipsing through, she has a few people she’s fairly certain can’t afford the building but who are clearly interested in what a historic home that can be lived in might look like, despite the fact that the interior has been redone several times. She’s a little more brusque with them than the others—nothing that can be complained about, of course, just on the off-chance they are actually able and, more importantly, willing to buy it, but there’s no point in wasting her time on someone she won’t earn a commission from.

She checks her list. She has one last viewing scheduled for the afternoon, and she frowns slightly at the entry. She’s not certain how to pronounce the last name, which instantly puts her on edge, and she’s a little bit annoyed that whoever put together her appointment schedule didn’t proofread it before they printed it.

It’s only when she answers the door that she realizes that her list is actually meant to say Dr. and Mr. Walter Koskiewicz.

“Ms. Richardson?” one of the two men says. His voice is far more polished and refined than she would have expected. He’s neatly dressed in a pearl-grey button-down, tailored black pants, and a discreet but expensive-looking watch. His bearing is assured and confident, and despite the warm smile on his face, he moves like a man accustomed to obedience, respect, and wielding a decent amount of power.

Still, Helen is hard-pressed to keep her distaste from showing. The man’s silver-streaked dark hair is longer than she thinks is decent for someone in a position of authority and worn in a style more appropriate to a twenty-something entrepreneur running an experimental tech start-up than the middle-aged academic he appears (she guesses the “doctor” title is more in the nature of a Ph.D. than a medical degree). He’s also covered in scars, round and slightly ridged, pale against his brown skin, and she can’t even begin to guess where they came from, but it’s probably not something she wants to even think about, let alone know about.

And then there’s his…husband?

They’re an odd-looking couple, to be sure. The second man is at least a head taller than the first and decidedly fatter—Helen thinks uncharitably of an illustration in the book of nursery rhymes she had as a child depicting Jack Spratt and his wife—with blue eyes and fair skin dusted with freckles. His hair is short and curly, a mix of caramel and white, which is the only clue that he’s probably around the same age as the other man. He doesn’t hold himself with the same assurance and authority; while he’s smiling as well, he actually seems more than a little nervous. He’s dressed just as neatly and professionally as the first man, but he’s clinging to the first man’s arm very tightly. She can’t tell if it’s out of nerves or possessiveness or what, and she almost wants to tell him that she’s not interested in his man.

Instead, she schools her expression as best as she can. “Yes, I’m Helen Richardson.” Normally she would ask if they are the last name on her list, but she doesn’t really want to try and pronounce it, so she simply waits.

“I’m Dr. Walter Koskiewicz,” the first man says smoothly, holding out his hand. It bears the same round scars as his face, with the addition of what looks like the remains of a severe burn on his hand, which makes Helen extremely reluctant to touch it. “This is my husband Kieran. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Charmed,” Helen says. She accepts his hand for a perfunctory shake and keeps her professional smile on her face despite the somewhat unpleasant feel of the thing. She ought to offer her hand to the other as well, but frankly she just wants to get this over. “Shall we begin the tour?”

“Of course.” Is it her imagination, or does Dr. Koskiewicz sound slightly disappointed?

Helen launches into the by-now familiar script as she begins showing the two men around the house. Dr. Koskiewicz makes several remarks that seem rather banal to her regarding the decor, and she finds herself wondering what his field is. She can’t place what Mr. Koskiewicz does for a living, either. She’d almost suspect he was simply arm candy if he was younger and fitter, but unless he’s let himself go to seed a great deal, there has to be a reason beyond that they married. And in her experience, most men whose trophy wives no longer meet a certain standard of attractiveness obtain divorces and trade in for a newer model. It may be different for gay men, though—how would she know? Of course, Dr. Koskiewicz isn’t exactly a beauty prize himself, and considering this house is on the lower end of the pricing spectrum for the sorts of places Helen usually shows, he likely isn’t as well-off as all that, comparatively. So it’s entirely possible he simply doesn’t want to rid himself of an old spouse until he’s lined up a new one.

It’s also possible that they’re actually in love, but Helen wouldn’t know about that either.

As they approach the kitchen, she begins mentally wagering with herself on whether or not they are actually interested in purchasing the house. Usually the kitchen is where the distinction comes in. It’s had all modern appliances and new counters and cabinets put in, so generally speaking, the people who are only there for curiosity’s sake start asking questions about when it was renovated and how permission was obtained and what it looked like before (Helen has no idea; the renovations were done some years ago, per the specs, and she wasn’t even working for Wolverton Kendrick then) and, often, rant about destroying the historical significance of the house, even though it’s only a Grade II. At least it enables her to weed them out as having an intent to buy before they see what’s been done to the upstairs. The serious buyers will peer in but not usually show much interest in it, considering most of them have someone to do the cooking for them, or else comment on the colors or the brand of the appliances.

She doesn’t tell the two men this, of course, only gives them the standard patter about the timing of the upgrades as she leads them in to show them the door to the back garden. Dr. Koskiewicz checks in the doorway and turns to his husband. “It’s a bit narrow. Do you want to go first?”

“You go ahead,” Mr. Koskiewicz says. It’s the first thing he’s said since he came into the house, and his voice definitely isn’t as polished as the doctor’s. Helen wonders if he’s an academic as well, just not as highly distinguished a one—a librarian, maybe? He also has a faint accent she can’t quite place. She can’t tell if they’re both foreign and Dr. Koskiewicz just had better teachers, or if, odd as it may seem, Dr. Koskiewicz chose to take his less-impressive husband’s surname rather than whatever name he had before. “Just warn me before you stop.”

“Of course.” Dr. Koskiewicz kisses him on the cheek, then moves forward to follow Helen.

She watches Mr. Koskiewicz for a moment, and then it hits her all of a sudden. He’s blind. She didn’t notice at first because of his glasses—clear glass, not sunglasses—and his eyes look, well, normal, not cloudy or scarred like she might have expected. The fact that he can pass himself off as a normal person bothers her, for some reason. However, the couple appears to be in the class of being able to afford the house, so she’s not going to risk saying something that might offend him, or his husband. She merely continues with her spiel.

“What are the schools like in the area?” Mr. Koskiewicz asks as they come back in from the back garden. The question makes Helen miss a step. The sorts of people who usually buy homes from Wolverton Kendrick normally have their children taught at home, and the older ones tend to get sent away to boarding school. It’s so unheard-of for her to get that question that she hasn’t even bothered to familiarize herself with the answer.

“How old are your children?” she asks, to buy herself a bit of time while she sneaks a quick glance at the folder. Surely there’s something in there about area schools. Surely.

“Oh, we don’t have any yet,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. “At the moment, it’s only the two of us and the cat. We’ve begun the application process to adopt, though, and we’re hoping to be matched soon. It’s why we’re looking at homes. Our current living situation is spacious enough, I suppose, but…not necessarily somewhere you’d want to raise a child. Or children, as the case may be. We’re hoping for more than one, at some point.”

“Well, then, you’ll have time to select the right schools.” Helen manages to find the data on local primary schools and reads off the statistics in her file. She tries to make it sound like she already knew the information, but the steady look Dr. Koskiewicz gives her makes her suspect he knows she was unprepared for it, which makes her tense and a little angry. It’s not her fault they chose to ask about something so unusual.

As they head up the stairs, she decides to fish about a bit for some information. The problem is that she still isn’t confident that she’ll pronounce their name properly, and the last thing she wants is to be condescended to. That’s the way with these academic types, she’s often found; they have a little bit of power and wield it like a weapon, especially over a woman or someone they perceive to be beneath them. So in order to get the information she wants, she’ll need to come at it sideways.

“Are you at Kings College?” she asks, casually, trying to sound as if she doesn’t care one way or another if he does.

“No, I work in Chelsea,” Dr. Koskiewicz replies. At first she thinks that’s all she’s going to get, but after a moment, he adds, “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Magnus Institute?”

Helen isn’t, not really, but she’ll chew off her own arm before she admits that. It never goes over well with clients when you profess ignorance of their profession; they always get offended if they think you should have heard of them, or at least what they do, and you haven’t. Besides, she doesn’t want to wind up in the middle of a history lesson on a non-profit or a think tank or whatever the Magnus Institute qualifies as. Best to hedge her bets. “Quite a prestigious institution,” she says in as neutral a voice as she can.

“You might say it’s outstanding in its field,” Mr. Koskiewicz says. His voice is almost as bland and neutral as Helen’s.

“It’s where we met,” Dr. Koskiewicz informs Helen. She glances over his shoulder to see him smile at Mr. Koskiewicz in a way that makes her stomach turn over. “I was hired as a researcher, he was in the library.”

Helen feels a slight stab of vindication—she was right about Mr. Koskiewicz—but it’s layered with a veneer of disgust about the whole situation. This isn’t the sort of neighborhood that would normally welcome people like them, she doesn’t think. Some of these high-end neighborhoods are getting a bit more diverse, but these two are a bit much all at once. She’ll admit that Mr. Koskiewicz seems normal enough, at least to all outward appearances, but he’s very clearly the less powerful of the two, and his blindness is definitely a point against him.

Upstairs in the home are four rooms designated as bedrooms, and used as such by the current owners, but which can also be studies or something similar if need be. She delivers the usual speech extolling the virtues of the rooms. Mr. Koskiewicz is listening rather intently, but to her surprise and slight annoyance, Dr. Koskiewicz seems distracted. He keeps examining every door intently, peering into the spaces in between, like he’s looking for evidence of woodworm or wants to see the details of the construction. There’s something a bit unsettling about it.

“Calm down, serce, you’re going to give me a headache,” Mr. Koskiewicz murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I know, it’s—” Dr. Koskiewicz sighs and squeezes his husband’s hand before turning to Helen. “Ms. Richardson. Have you ever noticed…something unusual in this house? Or any house you were showing? Like…a door that shouldn’t be there?”

“I’m…sorry?” Helen says cautiously. She’s had some weird questions asked before. She’s been asked about whether or not a basement can be made watertight (not waterproof, the client had insisted, he wanted to fill the basement with water and have a subterranean swimming pool and wanted to know if it was possible). She’s been asked about a room’s suitability for rituals to the Old Gods and about whether it contained enough space for an exorcism. She’s been asked if homes are haunted, if any murders have taken place in them, and if they might have secret tunnels used by robbers or counterfeiters. But being asked if she’s ever seen a door that shouldn’t be there? That’s new.

“It’s not a trick question, Ms. Richardson. Have you ever encountered a door in a place you weren’t expecting—yellow, perhaps?”

Okay, this is definitely weird. And a yellow door? Why is he being so emphatic about it? Her smile is slipping. The worst of it is that Helen doesn’t know the right answer. The truth, of course, is that she has no idea what he’s talking about. Of course she hasn’t seen any appearing or disappearing doors. She deals firmly in reality. She’s never seen a ghost, never spotted a UFO, never met anyone possessed by a demon. She doesn’t believe in magic, or have much truck with religion—she goes to church services with her mother on Christmas and Easter, but that’s about it, and she’s not sure how much of it she actually buys into. Certainly she’s never seen a door that wasn’t exactly where the house plan said it should be.

But she’s also usually fairly good at judging why a client is asking about such things. Some of the people who ask about murders or hauntings are fearful. Others are hopeful. The answer is almost always actually no, especially if it’s about the supernatural, but when she senses a client who will pay extra to be haunted or to be able to claim a salacious history to their new home, she’ll make something up, then jot it down after the client leaves just in case someone else asks before the first client commits to the sale. Very, very occasionally, there is an actual alleged haunting attached to the house—and once she really did have a house on the market that may have been lived in by a serial killer during the height of his crimes—but she’s good at spinning the story properly whether it’s something the owners disclosed to her or she made it up on the spot. The trouble is that she doesn’t know if Dr. Koskiewicz wants this alleged door to be there or not.

After a heartbeat, she decides on honesty. Frankly, she doubts they’re actually going to buy the house, regardless of what she says. At least this way she doesn’t have to pretend to have seen an unexpected door, be asked to describe it, and get caught out in a lie. That won’t do much for her credibility, or her commissions. You never know what kind of influence people actually have and they might spread around that she can’t be trusted.

“I can’t say that I have, Dr…” She trails off as she realizes she still doesn’t know how to pronounce his name properly.

“Koskiewicz,” Mr. Koskiewicz supplies. He’s studying Helen intently, making her wonder if she was wrong about him being blind…but no, he’s just looking in her direction, but seeming to focus on a point slightly to the left of her. It’s actually more than a little creepy and she wishes he would stop. “That’s a good thing, Ms. Richardson. A very good thing.”

“Please, allow me to explain,” Dr. Koskiewicz says, sliding his arm around Mr. Koskiewicz’s waist. “We at the Magnus Institute study the paranormal and the supernatural. One of the phenomena I have been studying involves this…door that keeps turning up unexpectedly. You might say it’s a rather persistent haunting. And it’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

“I see,” Helen says politely. She hopes he’s not about to lecture her. There is nothing she finds less enjoyable than an academic explaining his pet project or particular area of study to her. She would, in complete honesty, rather jam a sharp stick into her eardrums. And the paranormal? Definitely not an area she has any interest in. The historians she can just about tolerate, as she occasionally learns something worth sharing about a house she’s showing that can bump up the price if the right party hears it. But she really isn’t sure she can sell a haunted door as a feature. Unless this mysterious door comes with a ghost of some kind, but really, that seems a bit ludicrous. And there’s no guarantee it would be tied to any one particular house. There’s no resale value in it.

“But you haven’t seen anything like that,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. “You’re certain?”

“Very,” Helen says firmly. “I would remember.”

Dr. Koskiewicz studies her, then nods. “Good. Very good. I’d hate to raise a child in a house with that hanging about.” He laughs and adds, “I’m not altogether certain the Professor would be all that thrilled with it, either.”

Helen raises an eyebrow before she can catch herself. “Ah, if you have an adult housemate, this room right here also has an en-suite bathroom. Not as grand as the master suite, of course, but certainly private and well-appointed.”

“The Professor is our cat,” Mr. Koskiewicz says with a smile. “I doubt he needs a whole room to himself, but we do appreciate your point. Perhaps a room for an oldest child.”

“Perhaps,” Dr. Koskiewicz agrees, the corners of his eyes crinkling upwards. “Someday.”

Unbelievably, there’s still a chance Helen can make this sale. She still isn’t sure she wants to, but there’s a chance. She slips back into the familiar patter, rattling off the specs and amenities of the house and neighborhood. Now that they’ve dealt with the ridiculous question about an unexpected yellow door, it’s a lot easier.

She winds down the spiel as they head down the steps. Dr. Koskiewicz asks several questions, more normal ones than asking about the supernatural or the paranormal, and from the sorts of things he asks, she thinks she gleans a bit more information about the pair of them. Certainly enough to tailor her closing speech properly, anyway. It’s something she prides herself on. She tends to get the bigger commissions from her employers because she can sell houses most people have given up on, at a higher price than the seller is asking, by targeting specific things about the potential buyers—either something they’ve shown interest in regarding the house, or something they’ve let slip about themselves that she can exploit. Admittedly, she’s prone to occasionally exaggerating a teeny bit, and sometimes downplaying things she can be sure won’t show up as a hit on a pre-sale inspection, but nobody’s ever come back to complain about it. As long as the company does well out of it, nobody really cares.

She delivers the closing remarks, highlighting those things she thinks they’ll be drawn to, and talks up the amenities. She decides not to mention her concerns about how well-received they would be in the neighborhood, since neither of them looks like they belong; if they buy the house and find out their neighbors are going to make their lives miserable, well, that’s not really on her, and maybe she’ll get the listing if they decide to resell. Not that she’s necessarily hoping for that, but hey, a commission is a commission.

“Contact me if you decide you want to buy,” she finally says, handing Dr. Koskiewicz her card. He studies it for a moment, then pulls out a leather wallet and tucks the card inside. “I understand you’ll need to think this over, but if you’re interested, you may want to hurry. There was a couple in this morning willing to put in an offer.”

It’s a lie, of course; these two are the most intent viewers she’s shown the house to yet, and nobody’s made an offer. The house also hasn’t been on the market very long. But she’s learned that dangling that bit of bait often gets people to put in a higher offer. The owners want two and a quarter million, but she wonders if she can get these two to go to two and a half or maybe even more. She might even be able to get them up to three, which of course means a bonus for her.

“I can assure you that you’ll be the first to know, once we’ve talked it over,” Dr. Koskiewicz says. He holds out his hand. “Thank you very much, Ms. Richardson.”

“Of course.” Helen gives him her most professional smile and accepts his hand, trying not to wince at the feel of the scar tissue against her palm. She means to give it another quick shake and move on, but he tightens his grip slightly, holding her still, and stares at her intensely. It’s extremely uncomfortable.

“Please be careful,” he says quietly. “And if you do run into…anything unusual…I urge you to come to the Institute. You’ve been so kind to us. It’s the least we can do.”

Helen has no idea what he means, or what she should be worried about. And she doesn’t feel like she’s been especially kind, unless the other real estate agents they’ve dealt with have been more openly hostile about their foreignness and their homosexuality and his scars and his husband’s disability. But she’s not stupid enough to say that out loud.

“I assure you,” she says, fighting to keep her smile in place. “If anything unusual happens, you will be the first to know.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Koskiewicz releases her hand, but he keeps staring at her intently.

Mr. Koskiewicz holds out his hand uncertainly in her direction. “Thank you for being so helpful and direct. It’s refreshing to not feel…misled.”

Helen accepts his hand uncertainly, but honestly, after the doctor’s, it’s a relief—soft and fleshy to be sure, but he doesn’t grip overly hard, and it’s not as dry or, well, corrupted. Still, she’s a little unnerved by his statement, or more accurately by the way he says it, like it’s some sort of joke she doesn’t get. “Certainly. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I wasn’t.” She takes a half-step back and manages another smile. “Have a nice evening.”

“You as well.” Dr. Koskiewicz takes Mr. Koskiewicz’ arm and leads him to the door.

Helen, as is her habit, walks them to the door and watches them head down the path. Then, unable to stand it, she quickly hurries after them and peeps through a gap in the privacy fence sheltering the front garden. She doesn’t know much about cars and isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but the battered, ancient Ford Escort isn’t it.

She stares, utterly gobsmacked, as Dr. Koskiewicz opens the door for Mr. Koskiewicz, then goes around to get in the driver’s seat. The engine coughs and chokes for a moment before it catches and the car pulls away. It somehow doesn’t fit with the image she cultivated of the two of them. Either they have less money than she thought, or they have as much money as they do because they don’t spend a lot of money on new vehicles.

Either way, she thinks, glancing at her watch, her appointments are over for the day. She’s free until eight o’clock tomorrow morning and can go get something to eat, and she decides then and there that she is going to have a martini. Maybe two.

She rather thinks she’s earned them. Even if she doesn’t make a commission off of this one.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #homophobia cw #racism cw #xenophobia cw #ableism cw #classism cw #general bigotry cw #(all more implied than anything but still)#I'm sorry but I've never thought OG Helen was all that nice

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years ago

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A New Year’s Truth

Characters: Loki x Empath Avenger Reader

Summary: Reader is stuck at Stark Tower with Loki after the December holidays are finished. But each glancing touch with Loki speaks a truth that he doesn’t seem willing to face. Will the New Year change that?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is only loosely edited, as I’m still very very ill. I will go back and further edit it once I’m better, but I wanted to get this out to y’all before the New Year. I hope you enjoy!

The time between the various winter holidays and the New Year was always a weird one.

It was as if the world was stuck in a holding pattern, waiting with bated breath for a new year with new expectations to begin. When was the right time to take down all the festive decorations? How long was socially acceptable to do absolutely nothing on the couch but watch cheesy movies from your childhood and pig out on chocolate-covered treats? All the stress and excitement died down to leave everyone in a trance-like state, shuffling in pajamas from the couch to the kitchen to bed and back again. For some it was a relief, to finally have the stress and familial obligations lifted from their weary shoulders. For others, that had never been a concern, and one day just melted into the next.

It was the fourth day that you’d worked on permanently etching a likeness of your backside into the couch while you binged Bake Off and ate your weight in the last of the cookies you had made for Christmas. They were left behind, as were you, after your teammates had all split off to spend the last of the year with their respective families - even Steve and Bucky had gone with Nat and Sam to relax with Clint’s family.

You wiped a stray crumb from your shirt when Loki strolled in from the direction of the kitchen. He was the only other inhabitant in the tower, choosing to stay rather than to go to New Asgard with Thor and play diplomat for a people lukewarm to him at the best of times. You didn’t blame him. He cast a critical eye at your disheveled appearance before folding himself gracefully into the comfortable leather chair he preferred, pulling a book from his pocket dimension to read while he sipped at the steaming mug in his hand.

You could practically feel the judgment pouring off of him in waves without looking at him. Groaning at your ruined relaxation, you rolled your head around to stare at him, quirking a brow. “Out with it.”

He mirrored your expression, although with much more disdain and arrogance than you could ever muster. “I beg your pardon.”

“I don’t need to go over there and touch you to know that you’re judging me. Spill it,” you muttered, sitting up and stretching, arching your back into it with a sigh you felt all the way down to your toes. You tugged your hoodie back down from where it had exposed just a sliver of the skin of your stomach, and Loki’s eyes quickly flitted from it back up to your face. Interesting.

“If you must know,” he closed his book, leaving it to rest on his lap, “I am honestly astonished that one could descend so far into a vegetative state without going comatose. I do not believe you have moved from that spot but to sleep or gather food in days.”

You stood, brushing cookie crumbs from your sweatpants absentmindedly. “And?”

“It is almost impressive, were it not such a waste. There is much to be done, and yet you are perfectly content to waste away watching others live their lives.”

As if he was one to talk, sitting there drinking his tea without a care in the world. “And what is there to be done exactly?”

“To begin, the decorations from Christmas and Hanukkah remain on display, and the kitchen is almost out of provisions,” he rattled off with a shrug.

Well, that second one certainly would need tending to. Normally the groceries were delivered twice a week from a food order that everyone contributed to, but you had forgotten about it when it hadn’t been brought to your attention. Perhaps a bit of fresh air would do you some good. You left the room without another word, quickly dressing and making yourself presentable to the public before coming back out into the living room with Loki’s wool pea coat draped over your arms.

“C’mon, Muscles. You can help me carry the groceries.” You held up his coat for him in invitation, shaking it lightly.

He rose, smoothing his hands down his white button-up shirt to come to a stop on his hips. There weren’t any wrinkles to be found on his outfit, but you would touch that body at any opportunity if given the chance, so who could blame him? “You expect me to accompany you to the market?”

You popped up a hip and mocked his rich, velvet accent that admittedly sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. “You expect to eat, don’t you?”

The once pristine glittering snow had morphed into a grey sludge that sucked at your feet with each step back from the store. Your hands were thrust out from your sides to maintain your tenuous balance as you trudged along behind Loki, who had taken the reusable bags full of food from you without protest excluding a well-executed roll of his dark eyes. His towering figure cut a path through the crowded New York City pedestrians who watched him with unabashed curiosity and trepidation as he passed. You were afforded mostly confusion as you inelegantly followed in his footsteps.

Until your foot slipped on a hidden patch of ice beneath the slurry, and a squeak of shock came from your throat as your hands flailed out wildly for something to grab onto. Concern rushed through you, strong and overwhelming, as Loki’s hands grasped yours to keep you from falling. When you looked up to him in grateful shock, and your eyes locked, tendrils of desire snaked out from his heart to wrap around yours and squeeze with the barest of heat. There wasn’t any mistaking the feelings he had at that moment, no matter how fleeting, and you both knew it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, awestruck in the face of such intense emotions that Loki worked to keep hidden.

He jerked back from you as if you had burned him, picking up the bags he had forgotten in his haste to help you. “Do not mention it. Come. I’m famished and you obviously are not suited for this weather.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?”

You looked up from where you kneaded the flour-covered dough against the countertop, jaw set in determination as you leaned into your work. “It tastes better when you make it from scratch. I figured someone with your impressive knife skills wouldn’t find it challenging to chop a bit of garlic and tomatoes for a simple pasta sauce. If I’m mistaken…”

Loki bristled, his eyes tightening as he made quick work of unbuttoning his sleeves before rolling them up the pale expanse of his arms. “I am quite capable of performing such a menial task.”

You dropped your gaze to the exposed skin, delighting silently in the flex of his forearms as he set to work doing as you had asked. It was quiet, calming, to work together in the kitchen. The rhythmic sound of his knife hitting the wooden cutting board timed with your rolling and kneading the pasta dough was almost musical, working with the pulse pounding in your ears at such a domestic scene to keep you very alert.

Not too alert, apparently, as when you began to cut the long floured noodles from your rolled sheet of dough, you managed to slice the pad of your index finger.

“Shit!” you cursed, dropping the knife and pulling the bleeding digit into your mouth. You quickly checked to make sure you hadn’t ruined the dough, eyes darting around the room for something to staunch the bleeding.

“Let me see,” Loki commanded quietly from behind you.

You turned to him to see his hands held out for yours, exasperation written into the firm set of his mouth. “You don’t have to touch me. It’s okay.”

“Let me see,” he repeated, gently encircling your wrist with his long, elegant fingers, pulling your finger from in between your lips.

There was that concern again, warm and soft as it wrapped around you like a blanket from where his hands deftly worked at cleaning and wrapping your hand in a band-aid. You weren’t used to people touching you, not of their own accord, not once they knew that you could feel their every emotion through the connection. It was an invasion of privacy, and more than that, it was opening them up to the possibility of you pushing certain feelings onto them - an aspect of your powers that you never used unless in dire situations on missions.

You would never do that to Loki, even with the desire that unfurled deep within your belly as you watched his calculated emerald eyes admire his handiwork. Anything that he felt, you wanted it to be authentic and coming only from him. Which was why the affection that teased just at the edges of your awareness made your breath catch in your throat, and your gaze drop to his lips as he wetted them with a flick of his tongue.

“Loki, I-”

“Perhaps I should finish the rest of the meal, so you do not risk ruining the pasta with your blood,” he commented dryly, leaving you empty as he released you from his hold.

You cradled your hand to your chest as if you could still feel the affection he had unwittingly shared on the stinging skin. “Of course. Just do what I was doing, without the stabbing part.”

You should’ve worn gloves for the party. Or perhaps a dress with sleeves.

The combination of so many bodies jostling around you, leaving you with just flashes of humor, lust, frustration, anger, sadness, and so many more emotions that you couldn’t name but could taste on your tongue, was too much. Tony had gone all out with the guest list for the New Year’s Eve party, and you felt positively ill at so many sensations washing over you in time with the pounding music and conflicting colognes and perfumes invading your nose.

The frigid wind on the balcony was a welcome breather, whipping around you and electrifying your senses to remove the lasting negative effects of the others from your person. Until you were just you again, as conflicted and frustrated as ever as you thought about Loki and Thor chatting amiably with amiably inside. The countdown was due to begin soon, and you didn’t want to see who the dark god paired off with to welcome in the new year with a kiss. That was one mental image you were perfectly content not to have engraved in your brain for the foreseeable future.

“The party not to your liking?”

Your chin lifted from where it had settled on your chest to watch the crowds below, all packed together and shouting their revelry into the abyss that climbed up the tower windows to reach your cold-reddened ears. “I didn’t realize it would be that crowded, and I’m not wearing sleeves.”

A coat, woolen and heavy and scented with cedarwood and spice settled over your shoulders to block the worst of the cutting wind. Your arms unraveled from around your waist to grip onto the lapels, holding Loki’s coat tighter to you. Loki stepped into your line of sight, regarding you with an unreadable expression as he leaned against the safety rail as if he wasn’t several hundred feet in the air. “That was poor planning on your part.”

“Yeah, but I look good in this dress,” you replied with a humorless laugh, swinging your hips back and forth as it to prove the point.

“You do,” was his warm reply, matching the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth as his eyes trailed down the length of your body slowly.

What you wouldn’t give to know the feelings behind that look, but you wouldn’t ever invade his privacy in that way. Not without permission. Thankfully, the cold air already turned the tip of your nose red and flushed your cheeks, otherwise the effect his searching gaze and thoughtful gesture would be much more clear. “Thanks for the coat. You always seem to be stepping up to help me, lately.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he replied in that crushed velvet voice that had just a hint of roughness to it as he took one step closer to you.

The crowd down below began counting down. You could barely hear the numbers over the roar of the wind in your ears and the pounding of your heart as Loki shielded your body from the cold with his own. His hands came up to settle over your upper arms, rubbing the soft satin lining of his coat into your skin.

And your eyes fluttered closed just before his lips brushed against yours at the last second. Love unlike anything you’d ever felt before matched the caress of his smooth lips over yours, catching in your heart and coaxing out a warm glow of happiness that you weren’t sure began or ended with the man cradling you in his arms. It was untainted by darkness, driven from the purest sense of adoration and affection that you had experienced from another soul.

His forehead rested against yours once he allowed you a moment to breathe, quite kind of him after having stolen the very breath from your lungs. Hope, sharp and bright, teased out from him and into you to make your fingers curl into his black suit jacket. “I am not one to easily speak my emotions freely with others. But you must know…”

You nudged your nose along his, your heart soaring at the physical contact and the shared joy that danced between you to the tune of your drumming heartbeats. “I do. You can’t exactly hide that from me.”

He gathered you into the warmth of his embrace, tucking your forehead beneath his chin with a relieved sigh. It was safety and contentment and promise and a love so new and bright that you hoped to never find its shadow. “No more hiding. Not in this new year.”

~~~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki @otakumultimuseoc @ms-cellanies @rosierossette

Whole Shebang taglist: @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @silverswordthekilljoy

#loki #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki/reader #avenger reader #empath reader #new years eve fic #marvel fanfic

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migila · 3 years ago

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Sakura’s Story: Love Riding the Spring Breeze

I just finished the novel and I know it’s not exactly new, being written in 2015 and all, but in case someone who hasn’t read it yet doesn’t want spoilers, I’ll warn you that this post will contain some.

First, I’m not all that happy how much it focuses on romance (read: Sakura crying after Sasuke), but considering it was Sakura’s novel, it is very in character for her to think about him a lot. After all, in the original story, Sakura’s thoughts are very Sasuke centered when the man is brought up. With that said, points for keeping the main character in character (assuming Ohsaki Tomohito had a big part in writing this along with Kishimoto; I’m not sure how this co-writing works. Did he write the whole novel, only using Kishimoto’s world and characters, or did he consult the man?) Still, romance as a theme lingers there the whole time. Ino and Sai’s relationship acts a relevant part in it, there’s some NaruHina and even Chouji having dates with Karui is mentioned. This wouldn’t bother me otherwise, but Shikamaru’s story didn’t really have this kind of weight on romance, just deep things being implied, and this kind of makes me think romance was given a big role simply because the main character is a woman. Of course, the fact that the main character was Sakura, a character who puts a lot of weight on romance in the actual story, somewhat justifies it; if it had been Temari’s story and so romance focused, it would’ve just come across as sexist ‘cause it would’ve been so out of character. But still, it gave off a bit of a bad taste.

Speaking of sexism, Shikamaru seemed to have a bigger role in fights and planning in his story than Sakura did in her own. Of course, that could be explained by saying that Shikamaru is a genius who’s always making plans while Sakura’s not, but still, it kinda gave of the air that you can’t leave the important battles and plans to a woman. Again, one could argue that Sakura was busy with the hospital and that’s why Sai was used instead, but... sour taste. Just a bit. Still, this ended better than I expected at first though since not only did Sakura bring down the main villain, on her own I might add, but the main villain’s right hand was also taken down by Sai and Ino, with Ino’s plan. So, all in all, it went well for a novel made based on a shounen manga.

And now, I want to talk about the main villain, Kido Tsumiki. His backstory is a bit tragic, rather cliche but still tragic, yet it really made me think about Konoha’s shinobi education system. Kido’s dad was also a shinobi, it was mentioned that he took more missions to get more money, and he stopped buying the medicine he needed so that he could afford to send his son to the shinobi academy. In other words, he stopped taking a possibly life saving medication just to send his son to a school that would prepare him for a very dangerous profession where he would be very likely to die on job. And since it was mentioned at the beginning that Kido was around Kakashi’s age, that meant that he went to the academy in times of war, which made him dying young on the job even more likely. And that’s just weird; why did Kido’s father send his son to such a place at the risk of his own life? Would a child of a shinobi be shunned if he didn’t go to the academy? Or was the man so brainwashed by the village that he saw no problem in his son possibly dying at young age for the sake of the village? I wouldn’t put either of these past Konoha. Anyway, I always assumed that the shinobi academy would be free since kids from important clans, like Hyuuga and Uchiha, to no name families like Haruno, and even an orphan like Naruto went there. I thought it’d be financed by the village that exists for the sake of bringing up and employing the shinobi, but no, looks like it’s “give us money so that you can send your child in to a school that teaches them a very dangerous profession that is likely to get them killed” -kind of thing.

As for the children’s therapy centers, the villages really need those. They’d need ones for adults too, but this is a good start. This novel is the only one where I can recall them talking about some kind of mental therapy; the only therapy I noticed in canon was the physical kind. And that’s a big mistake; we’re talking about people who, if given the order, hurt and kill people from very young age. They should have regular mental health check ups for god’s sake!

For the story as a whole, it was decent. The plot was rather predictable, but it flowed well and I didn’t really spot any plot holes. The only real surprise for me in this book was that, while Sasuke appeared to take down the anbu, he also left before he could actually be seen in the story. Very in character, but I thought that this novel would put some more light on how SasuSaku really became a thing, but guess not.

P.S: At least in the edition I have, Sakura and Sasuke’s names are mixed up many times. One or two times I’d probably just overlook it, but it happened often. How the same mistake got through proofreading so many times is beyond me.

#sakura's story #love riding the spring breeze #naruto #novel #haruno sakura

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 4 years ago

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I've gone my whole life thinking people were right to say that Belle is a Ravenclaw, and after watching the original Disney animated version I think I can safely say this: Belle is NOT a Ravenclaw.

Here's Why.

She's a Gryffindor.

Textbook case.

One of the worst I've ever seen.

To start, let's re-cap the qualities of Ravenclaw vs those of Gryffindor

RAVENCLAW

~Basic Qualities~

• Wit

• Wisdom

• Learning

• Intelligence

~Extrapolation~

• Problem solving

• Insatiable intellectual curiosity (asking the 'what if's' of life)

• Extensive reading/study for the betterment of the mind.

GRYFFINDOR

~Basic Qualities~

• Courage

• Chivalry

• Daring

~Extrapolation~

• Stubbornness

• wanderlust (desire for adventure- many Gryffindors seek jobs that travel widely and offer adenvture)

• talent for mischief (almost every famous Gryffindor is notorious for getting into trouble - even ones considered to be goody-goodies)

• insatiable spacial curiosity (aka snooping. Curiosity for Gryffindors regards their surroundings, where Ravenclaw curiosity tends to manifest in a more theoretical, academic plane)

This could be why Gryffindor/Ravenclaw hatstalls are so prevalent- because it takes time to differentiate and weigh their shared qualities beyond the surface. Now keep in mind that the sorting hat tends to weigh the motivations that drive certain qualities, rather than the qualities themselves.

So let us ask this - yes Belle reads a lot. But WHY does Belle love to read? WHAT kind of books does Belle enjoy?

Novels. Fantastic romantic adventure novels.

She wants, as she so eloquently states in her song, adventure.

And let's now look at her behaviour through the story

• She makes what could be considered reckless decisions ("Take me instead!)

• she displays courage (both reckless and true)

• she snoops around in specifically forbidden areas

• never actually admits any wrongdoing after she is caught snooping around

• does not take no for an answer

• passes up a vault full of knowledge in favour of adventure (ie, snooping around)

Think about it

Harry Ron and Hermione are all famous for snooping around out of bounds and after hours (though a difference could be pointed out here that their snooping always has a purpose and they know exactly what rules they're breaking and why, and have decided that the risk is worth it. But MANY other Gryffindors share this reputation for going out of bounds, and for less altruistic reasons, to wit...)

Fred and George also famous for breaking rules, and The Marauders seemed to be at Hogwarts to do nothing BUT get into trouble.

Of course you can juxtapose them with more straightlaced types, like for instance Prof McGonnagall, though she falls under a very specific subtype of Gryffindor: Too Narrow Minded to be a Ravenclaw. Very studious. Very intelligent; but not at all interested in pressing the envelope in terms of what is "possible". As much as I respect Minerva Mcgonnagall, she Learns in order to accumulate knowledge for later use, not for the love of learning itself. I call this stagnant assimilation, and it's a quality she shares in common with Hermione (though in Hermione's case this is much, much more pronounced.)

Now you wanna talk about a REAL Ravenclaw?

Let's talk about Ariel.

This is great juxtaposition, since Ariel and Belle are the heroines of movies that came out back to back.

Like Belle, Ariel feels out of place where she lives and longs to leave.

Also like Belle Ariel is curious and takes an opportunities to explore.

The first, immediate difference I suppose is that Ariel has had lots of opportunity to explore for much of her adolescence, where Belle is more forcefully sequestered simply by circumstance that there's not much adventure of any kind to be had in the Provincial France (while Ariel is still only exploring locally she's had run-ins with adevture that Belle is probably insanely jealous of. SHARK CHASES, i mean come on!) and must satisfy herself with reading exciting stories.

But as courageous as Ariel is, her desires and motivations are telegraphed and stated in a fairly good deal of depth and this reveals the difference in curiosity between these two Princesses.

Belle talks mostly of just leaving; experiencing more than what she has done so far, which lets me conclude that Belle's got true wanderlust and this also hints at that desire for EXPERIENCE being her main motivation. She ends up marrying a rich man who could afford her with that travel while still providing a home base (although that will make him a rather absentee ruler, but that's not what we are discussing here).

Belle needs an adrenaline fix.

Which is why she defies convention, thumbs her nose at a very influential man at the risk of his ire, and directly disobeys her host/ captor when he tells her not to go a certain place. Because in some way, she wants that risk. What could he be hiding? Doesn't matter. She wants to find out because she was told not to look.

Ariel goes exploring ALL the time, and she's also got a place she's been forbidden from going.

That place for Ariel is the Surface.

For Ariel, the motivation to go to the surface isn't idle curiosity. Its a long-standing rule and one she's had trouble following for most of her youth, because she's not looking for the unknown just to get a thrill, but to expand her knowledge of something she's already been exposed to, in a small away.

Finding and collecting surface objects is a passion for her because everything she finds has the potential to teach her something about that world.

She explores because she has a goal and that goal is learning. She doesn't LIKE disobeying her father, but she does so because not exploring limits her opportunity to learn and She. Can't. Stand. It.

It's even implied that the books she's found have helped her learn to read, or perhaps she overheard sailors talking about "fire". What is fire? What is it like, what is it's purpose how does it work? Why does it burn?

"I wanna know what the people know, aske them my questions and get some answers"

Part of the reason Ariel hates living in the same sea her whole life is because ever since she started to learn about the surface, she's found out about so much she never would have without that surface world. She's not just afraid of missing out, she's afraid of living in forced ignorance.

True Ariel also makes some reckless decisions. She also displays stubbornness and curiosity and is unapologetic for disobedience, but her disobedience doesn't invade anyone's privacy (apart from maybe the sailors but I doubt they'd complain) and her recklessness and bravery are merely secondary means to a primary end - learning.

#Disney princess #hogwarts houses #ravenclaw #Gryffindor #beauty and the beast #the little mermaid #fairy tales

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jhaernyl · 4 years ago

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So my ninja taxes are predicated on a handful of concepts, one of which is a big straying away from canon bc I cannot rationalize why Konoha works the way it was if we don't change Hashirama and Madara's motivation for founding the village.

If they really had started their village So That Children Would Not Have To Fight And Die then there is no fucking way that Konoha would have ended up the way it did, not even from the beginning.

Children would not have been allowed in the field, full stop.

My reasoning, instead, went that Hashirama and Madara looked at how hard life was for their older relatives, the ones that got injured too much to fight again but didn't die, the ones that went blind or deaf and had to be cared about from the rest of the Clan and possibly thought themselves a burden on the other members of their nomadic society, respected "Elders" who weren't necessarily old but who couldn't fight anymore and who dealt with a slew of PTSD complications that might have barred them from even interacting with children and teaching them, further making them feel inadequate or who possibly left the Clan to go into civilian careers where they could settle down in one place, get more or less regular medical care as needed and thus sort of 'left' the Clan behind.

(As a side rant I would like to add that the reason why Madara and Hashirama wouldn't focus on the 'children shouldn't be soldiers' is because that while child soldiers definitely do happen in the real world, in the contest of the Naruto framework it didn't make sense for the time Madara and Hashirama were in to send children as young as the manga told us they were to fight against full-grown adults the way the manga depicted them doing.

I can buy the occasional genius being put into battle way too young (cough Tobirama cough) as long as it came with other factions being anything in the range from impressed-but-somewhat-disapproving to downright appalled at the age the kid was thrown into the field but not it being a systematic thing, because the infant mortality rate would be too high and unsustainable so I think it would make more sense, especially given their ages when they meet, if Madara and Hashirama older brothers died rather than their younger ones.

Hashirama and Madara are supposed to be SEVEN YEARS OLD when they meet and yet somehow both of them are the eldest of their siblings, with Tobirama being the second eldest to Hashirama and Izuna being somewhere around Tobirama's age supposedly, and both have already lost three younger brothers to battle against the opposite faction? Huh huh, sure Kishi, whatever you tell yourself to feel edgy.

No, it makes more sense to me that they were middle children who both became Heir because their older siblings either died or were crippled too bad to continue fighting and that was followed by frustration/rage/depression/sense of being rejected / feeling of uselessness in relation to their war-like Clan whose tradition and Leader Are In The Field kind of leadership demanded an able-bodied shinobi to lead them and that shaped them and informed their ideas for and dreams of an ideal village where that wouldn't be the case and where their younger feelings shouldn't have to feel that was going to be the end they were going to one day meet unless they died in battle.)

So Hashirama and Madara looked at that and they went "That's not what I want for my brother/cousins/uncles/aunts/relatives / etc." and so their dream was to create a place where a shinobi would be supported (the way many self-made shinobi at the time weren't, unless they joined the Clan and, as said above, even joining a Clan didn't necessarily protect them in the long run, depending on their specific situation) beyond his or her or their utility in the field, where they wouldn't have to leave the Clan and their support network to settle somewhere safer, (Tobirama, in the background: where their health and minds could be looked after so that they would not snap and go insane and have to be mercy killed.)

Which allows for the focus of the village to be on a very Japanese-appropriate taking care of your Elders who have already contributed to your society and can still have more to contribute in the way of teaching young ones without having to die in the battlefield or feel themselves become 'burdens' (which they aren't but they might still feel like) and reducing the weight of care on the families by having a support system to person and families be something organically built into the Village’s structure, in more ways than taxing but also through the taxes levied.

It also allows for a spiralling effect being present towards having more people and time to devote to training the young and thus, especially once the Ninja Wars happen and create that sort of constraint on society, leading to younger graduation classes because that can happen as a slippery slope kind of situation where no one means to send young kids into battle before they are ready but if you are sending the older teens and adults into battle, then the younger kids can take over in-village missions that would otherwise be given to adults, right? And if they are doing in-village missions, why not missions right around the village, not too far from it, with their jonin sensei coming along to ensure their safety? They are not being put at risk, they are just being helpful to the system while still being safe.

And that slides into 'well they can do missive runs to safe places on safe routes, we are not putting them in danger, they are just covering for the kind of thing that the adults are too busy with the war front to do' and then slowly and slowly inch down until it becomes 'bring cargo to the back of the lines, far away from the front line, so that we are sure it gets there safely and then they can help the adults escort the wounded back, reduce the number of people we have to discharge from duties where they are needed and there are still enough adults around that it’s safe enough.'

As I said, a slippery slope.

Starts small and over time it gets normalized and slides down inch by inch.

Back to topic, the focus is on looking after those who get injured and/or need to retire means that two of the main taxes being levied are the Injury Insurance Tax (IIT) and the Invalidity, Old Age & Survivors Tax (IOS) which works like the national funds do in Italy.

It's something that you invest in, just in case you will need it later. Almost all ninja end up needing the IIT funds, at some point during their career, while recovering from injuries and being unable to run missions (thus reducing the stress on ninja on the monetary side and sometimes making life easier for the medics, because patients who know that they will get paid while they work to get back to 100% are patients who might be less likely to book it out of a window at the first instance) and all ninja who are not on a suicidal bend and actually looks forward to managing to make it out and retire can look at the IOS as a support system that will one day help take care of them, should they be too damaged / too old / not able to be around children to make out a living by having a profession/teaching children, etc.

The IOS being something that they have put money in during their service to the village, this also avoids the mental trap of being seen as a charity because it's not you accepting charity from someone else. It's you reaping the reward of that money you sacrificed for so long and set aside exactly for this specific occurrence.

It's not a handout but rather one of your rights that you are expecting/requesting/demanding to be granted to you as promised, so it skips quite a few mental traps that might otherwise prevent them from accepting the help they are being offered.

There are fixed percentages for how much you get taxed depending on rank because the higher you get, the more money you make and the more danger you are exposed to so you both can afford to be taxed higher and you are undergoing higher risks, so you are more motivated to invest into taxes that will give a return when something happens.

Clan ninjas are especially invested in the system and joined under the clear assurance that the village would look out for them if they look out for the village and have a higher investment in wanting their retirees to be supported and looked after properly since that was one of the reasons Konoha got founded to begin with and they were attracted to the security it was supposed to offer.

They get taxed an extra on the IIT and an extra on the IOS in all categories because living in a Clan gives you all sort of advantages that people outside of a Clan don't have and thus you are expected to have the funds to be able to afford that extra and being part of a Clan you have plenty of people around you that are benefiting from the system which goes to show you that it's worth investing in it.

Everyone pays a not indifferent amount of their paycheck to the village in general, upfront, and that amount of money is part and parcel of being part of the Village.

The Village provides for you in many ways, including allowing you to be part of the village and take their missions at all along with things like the free healthcare, but for the village to be able to afford to provide for you, the Village needs the funds and so your missions get taxed and what you get taxed on is fed back into the natural circle of the village's economy.

That is especially important during wartime when funds are going to be depleted way faster than they would normally be and a lot of missions you would see during peacetime fall to the wayside / cannot be taken on by you so you wouldn't see an income from them so you have to be offered a different kind of Wartime Paycheck if you are deploying in the field on the frontline in one long stretch rather than on a mission-back-to-Village-have-time-off-to-train-and-relax-and-get-some-TLC-get-another-mission-back-to-Village-again-etc. basis.

So every ninja pays a specific tax amount to the Village and then Clan ninja give another cut to their Clan because of societal obligations to your Clan and because the Clan provides for you and all Clans pay a general tithe to the village in the form of being taxed based on the number of members they have, the space they occupy and what percentage of whatever it is they produce (poisons and antidotes for the Yamanaka, medicines for the Nara, preserved food for the Akimichi, insect-related products for the Aburame, etc.) gets handed over to the Village to be used for everyone (the rest they keep to store or sell as they prefer).

Being part of the Clan is a privilege and a duty and part of it is contributing to the Clan, which is both a remnant of before the Villages were formed and how the Clan maintains their specific level of independence from the Village. Some Clans will ask more of you, some Clans will ask less and leave more in your pocket, it depends from Clan to Clan.

It's not all detractions, tho, though there are a few more that go to hit non-Clan, non-Clan-affiliated ninja. The Village provides you with basic kits and as they get depleted you can just go to the quartermaster and get refills issued without paying. If you go out to shop, you get discounts (calculated monthly based on medium earnings, the family of origin, living situation, taxes paid, quality material, economical support you have or don't have, etc.) on goods that you might need to use as a ninja and, if you are from a Clan, you get discounts within your own Clan or allied clans.

Orphans, especially ones without Patrons to look after them who are still underage or who are of age but do not yet have a trade to fall back on / are unable to be at least chunin ranked, are given a base monthly stipend and then they receive extra money on top of that basic stipend depending on their needs. Food needs, training material needs, age, family situation, your rank, how long have you been your rank, clothing needs as identified by the wear and tear of your gear as witnessed by your rank's quartermaster, if you need feminine hygiene products, etc.

On top of a basic food allowance, there are also extra food categories are organized based on whether you are pre-pubescent, pubescent or adult (the amount of food a growing kid vs a growing teenager vs an adult needs varies), what kind of diet do you need for your, for civilians, apprenticeship or, for ninja, training and development.

Are you focusing on your physical skills rather than your chakra skills? Non-chakra intensive diet. Are you working with a lot of Jutsu / genjutsu / training to expand your pool of chakra? Chakra-intensive diet. Are you doing both? Okay, file for both. Your sensei needs to confirm and vouch for your request.

Depending on what you are doing, who your sensei is and what he has you doing and what brand of skills you are focusing on (which influences which kind of foods you will need), the 'very chakra-intensive' / 'very non-chakra intensive' and the 'extreme chakra-intensive' / 'extreme non-chakra-intensive' diets are something you might need to apply for.

Someone like orphaned teenager Maito Gai would definitely hit the 'extreme non-chakra intensive training diet' category because he is doing extreme taijutsu training but given that he also needs to develop and train the amount of chakra necessary for summoning, he'd also be able to apply for 'very chakra-intensive training diet' whereas someone like Kurenai, who is a genjutsu mistress and relies less on her physical abilities, would go for the 'extreme chakra-intensive training diet' box possibly with a side of 'chakra-intensive training diet' if she's keeping up with something more than the barest levels of physical conditioning.

Plus depending on what kind of things you are doing, you might qualify for more than one category of the same type. Let's say you are Minato and you are working on fuck off giant Jutsu (extreme chakra-intensive) but you are also working on finicky, control-based sealing work that requires a different use of your chakra but is also exhausting in its own way (chakra-intensive) but you also need to work your ass off on your speed and reflexes (extreme non-chakra intensive) to keep up with your in-development Jutsu technique without getting disoriented / splatter yourself against trees along with the general physical training you do (non-chakra intensive).

Depending on what your schedule is and what you are doing, you will eat different quantities of food and you will need different types of food as well so if you can convince your sensei to sign off on it, you just apply for whatever you think you need the most or you go big or bust and try to apply for all categories if you think you can get away with it.

And then there's the housing tax if you live in Village housing for ninjas (with the expected wear and tear for being somewhere ninja lives and thus often needing repairs that are given to you free of charge because you are already being taxed for occupying a ninja-specific living space with all that comes with it).

There’s also whatever you (if you are an orphan) owe to the orphanage and/or academy (calculated based upon the resources spent to house and feed and clothe and wash and train you accordingly to your potential).

A lot of the housing thing and owed-to-orphanage/owed-to-Academy debts are predicated upon whether or not you have or not a Patron or a Clan sponsoring you or relatives who might not have been able to take you in (due to age of the relative or other issues) but could help pay for your upkeep and studies and if you do have someone which kind of person they are, what kind of agreement is in place and what kind of economical support they have been able to give you.

Aaand I'm going to stop there for right now because I've been typing about taxes for an hour and a half and I need a break XD

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tjswritingstuff · 4 years ago

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Risk Tolerance in Writing

In business there’s a concept known as “Risk Tolerance.” Risk tolerance is exactly what it sounds like, how much risk your willing to take on in a given investment. For businesses it usually refers to either monetary investment, new product lines, etc.

Everything in life has some risk involved. If you are trying to find an audience for your writing at some point you will have to take a chance. There is a trade off between the amount of risk you take and the potential reward that comes from it. In many cases the higher the risk the higher the possible reward, but since there are no sure things in life you have to make sure the risks that you take are in line with what you can afford to lose.

For someone who is a born writer, writing doesn’t sound like a risky endeavor. It seems about as risky as breathing. However, becoming a known writer, creating a business out of writing, does have it’s risks.

On the low end of the scale low risk/low reward, you can always write for yourself. It is completely possible for a writer to never spend more than a few dollars here and there on pens and paper there’s no monetary risk involved. There’s also no readership for this kind of writing.

Another low scale risk/reward writing option is blogging. An example I’m positive your familiar with if your reading this is Tumblr itself. This site is a low risk/low reward writing platform. Some people do make a few dollars here and there using various means, advertising their books, taking commissions, etc. but for most of us, there is no monetary investment or risk of loss in this kind of site.

Building on risk you can have your own website. This is where you start getting into cost/benefit. A domain name/ web hosting will cost you some. For my website; www.TamaraHaddock.com I pay about $250 a year. $12 to keep the domain name active and 19.99 for the web hosting. It’s important to note at this point I’ve had the site about 2 years, and it gets almost no traffic, however I keep it up and running, I can afford the loss of $21 a month to own my domain name. Some people might choose not to take risk of losing that much.

When you start trying to market your work to a wider audience there is always a risk involved.

Advertisements can run you as much, or as little as your willing to spend on them, but there is no guarantee that the person who sees your ad will have any interest in buying your book or your writing.

If you attempt to go the traditional publishing route of a book there is always the risk of rejection. Sometimes emotional risks or “dread” risks are harder to overcome than monetary risks. It’s not hard to throw five or ten dollars at putting up an ad for something yourself published, but when you put something out in the hands of someone capable of tearing it apart, it’s a little harder to take that chance. It feels like you personally are at the risk of rejection rather than your work.

Choosing who to work with on your writing is also a risk/reward endeavor. If you contact an editor/book reviewer/ agent/publisher you are taking the risk on that persons experience, skill, and connections. Sometimes the risk pays off and you get a good working relationship, other times unscrupulous people try to profit off of the dreams and ambitions of others. I’ll give you an example of this one that drives me crazy. Online Writing Courses. There are writing courses out there that claim they make six figures a year and promise that they can help you do the same. Consider this though, if you are hearing about a writer not through the popularity of their writing, but through the class they are selling via ads for a couple hundred bucks a piece are they actually making their income by writing? Or are they making it off their customers desire to make money off writing?

How much are you willing to risk getting where you want to go?

What risks are you willing to take, either personally to your ego, or monetarily to your bank account? Look at the potential reward that each risk offers, what are the odds that the reward will be worth more to you than what you risk losing? What if you lose everything you invest in the endeavor? Would it have been worth it? If the answer is no, then the risk is too high.

Remember never take a risk if you’re not comfortable losing whatever you’ve put into it. While some people have higher risk tolerance than others, at the end of the day you need to know what risks are worth taking, what chances will move you closer to your goals and what chances if they fall short are going to discourage and de-motivate you from following your dreams.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #writing advice #risk tolerance

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sign-from-god-complex · 5 years ago

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Idealistic

Summary: Even after months of friendship, Logan didn’t know Remy’s major. There was, in fact, quite a lot he didn’t know about Remy, but Logan found he was more than willing to learn.

Pairing: Sleeplogical / Losleep

A/N: This fic is based on the lovely @sleepless-in-starbucks' space!Remy idea!!! it’s probably also worth noting that Logan’s last name here is McKenzie, which is why that’s what Remy is calling him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are certain things certain groups of people will always find important.

For example, when you meet a child, they will often tell you their age down to the month—a fact not many adults will care all that much about sharing. Fisherman will talk about fish and authors will talk about books; each group has its own unique priorities.

One of the things that university students find to be particularly important is your major.

Your major can tell people a lot about you—give hints as to whether you're practical or creative, whether you dream big or are more realistic and, often, what you are truly passionate about.

Logan's own major—psychology—told others that he was fairly grounded, ambitious and that his misunderstanding of other human beings and how they work had culminated in a lifelong fascination in figuring it out. Had Logan been looking into practising psychology rather than simply researching it, that would have said other things, but Logan had made it very clear where his interests lay.

Logan's roommate, Roman's, major declared him an overdramatic idiot with his hopes set higher than it was usually possible to achieve; Patton's major declared him sweet, caring and hardworking; Virgil's major declared him subtly intelligent and willing to stay up to unreasonable hours to get things done. Truly, there was so much you could learn from knowing the majors of the people you socialise with.

Which is why it irritated Logan so much that he still didn't know Remy's.

Remy was an enigma. From the moment they sauntered their way into Logan's regular coffee shop, only displaying the bits of themself they wanted people to see, Logan had been enamoured by the idea of what lay underneath the surface.

Every so often he would get a glimpse of something more than the flirty persona Remy put on. They would laugh—genuinely laugh, ducking their head, their cheeks flushed—or they would sigh—soft and quiet and sadder than Logan ever wanted them to feel—and moment by moment Logan fell just a little bit further for them.

He didn't mean to, but he had been reliably informed that no one ever did.

Logan exhaled into the cold air, watching his breath mist in front of him. The sound of music from the house behind him was muffled as he leant against the balcony railing, trying to catch a moment alone.

Roman had dragged him to this party, citing that he needed to get out more and stop being such a buzzkill. Logan personally thought that there was a large difference between finding studying important and being a buzzkill but he wasn't going to waste his breath attempting to explain that to Roman, who rarely listened to him anyway.

"You doing alright out here, McKenzie?"

Logan caught the sound of Remy's voice and he spun around, watching them close the sliding glass door behind them. There was a grin at Logan's reaction but it wasn't unkind, just teasing and playful.

Logan, hoping the dim lighting outside would hide his blush, turned back to look over the railing. "I am fine, Remy, thank you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw Remy approach the edge of the balcony to stand beside him, lifting their sunglasses to perch on the top of their head. Something in Logan warmed at the fact that Remy felt comfortable enough around him to remove their armour—and he knew without a doubt that's what those sunglasses represented.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Logan whispered, gazing up at the sky and failing to notice the way Remy tensed beside him at the question.

"The stars? I mean, they're just balls of gas." Remy's voice was stiff and uncomfortable as they fiddled with the sleeve of their leather jacket. "What’s there to be so excited about?"

Logan startled, turning to look at Remy incredulously. "There is so much more to them than that, Remy. Barring the fact that the stars are one of the most visually pleasing things we, as human beings, will ever get a chance to see, they represent so much more than just balls of gas. They represent the idea of exploration, of infinity, of a sense of longing for that which is outside our reach.”

He gestured vaguely upwards, expecting to go on, but was interrupted by a single word from Remy.

“Astronomy.”

It was blurted, hurried and almost afraid, and Remy appeared as if they already regretted it.

Logan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You… wanted to know my major, that day in the cafe when we met.” Remy spoke slowly, seemingly almost rolling their words around their mouth before releasing them.

Logan nodded. He hadn’t been sure at the time why Remy had so adamantly avoided the subject of their major but it was obvious they didn’t want to share and Logan was learning not to push. It bothered him immensely—because it was another missing piece of the puzzle when it came to figuring Remy out—but he didn’t want to risk their friendship over something so trivial.

Remy sighed, directing their gaze upward and away from Logan. “It’s astronomy.”

And suddenly, Logan felt he had a much clearer picture of who Remy was then he had ever been afforded before.

Because astronomy tells tales of someone always longing for something else. It tells the story of a young child sitting on the roof, wishing to be anywhere but here, wishing to be somewhere they felt they fit. Astronomy was patient, insatiable curiosity and childish excitement hidden behind the guise of serious scientific achievement; it was someone who looked up once and never saw the worth in looking back down.

Logan tilted his head, trying to figure out the reasoning behind Remy’s previous attitude. “But why would you…?”

He trailed off as Remy huffed, twisting up their mouth with a look Logan couldn’t quite identify—something between self-deprecation, anger and regret.

“I was just so sick of people’s reactions. Sick of being told I wasn’t smart enough, sick of being told that I needed to be more realistic, get my head out of the clouds. The stars are gorgeous—” and with that, Remy leaned out further over the railing, almost as if they were trying to throw themself right up there to join them—“and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t give to know everything I could about them.”

“I feel the same way about humans.”

Remy laughed, pulling themself back from the railing, their face painted red in embarrassment. “See? Grounded.”

Logan shook his head. “Idealistic,” he corrected, “I think we both are.”

That seemed to calm Remy, prompting them to sigh—low but not too heavy. They both returned to look out at the sky, hands resting side by side on the balcony railing and eyes catching subtle glances at each other between breaths. The atmosphere felt as if it had been lifted, making Logan seem weightless, even hopeful.

“Can you… tell me about them?”

“About the stars?” Remy looked hesitant but Logan felt as if he knew what that stemmed from. It was from every dismissal, every pointed and over-dramatic sigh and every time they’d been disrupted. Logan wouldn’t even dream of letting that happen here.

“Please,” Logan insisted, “I’ve always been interested but I’ve never really had the time to look into it. You would be doing me a favour.”

They took a steadying breath, their eyes scanning the sky for a second, before settling on one spot in particular. They pointed upward, their hand wavering ever so slightly. “That’s Sirius, d’you see it?”

Logan hummed lightly. “I’m not sure.”

Huffing a breath, Remy moved to stand behind him, pressing up against his back and resting their head on his shoulder. The two of them were about the same height—Remy was slightly taller but it was by an almost negligible amount—and yet Logan had never felt quite as small. Or as warm.

They grabbed a hold of Logan’s hand on the railing and aimed a finger towards a particular star.

"How ‘bout now?”

“Yes, I see it.” Logan’s voice was hushed, almost reverent, as if he was concerned about disturbing the quiet that had settled over the two of them.

“Sirius is the brightest star in our sky, though it’s actually a binary star system made up of two stars, Sirius A and Sirius B. It’s also one of the closest stars to Earth, sitting at eight and a half-ish light-years away.

“And if you see the stars, here…” Remy elongated the word as they drew Logan’s hand around the sky, gesturing to a few other stars in the area. “They’re all a part of the constellation Canis Major, or the Greater Dog, which also contains VY Canis Majoris, one of the biggest stars we know about. At the moment, anyway.”

Logan made a hum of acknowledgement, watching Remy grin out of the corner of his eye.

They were excited—genuinely excited—their eyes glittering and bright, biting at their bottom lip as they thought of what to say next. Again, they moved Logan’s hand, gesturing to a particular star, then another, then a cluster, then a constellation, filling Logan’s head with passionate chatter and a landslide of interesting facts.

He's certain he's never felt so fond—potentially of anyone but certainly of Remy, and he's always fond of Remy. There was just something about seeing someone engage in their passions without remorse that lifted that feeling to a whole new level.

If only there was a way to remove that hesitance for good.

"What?"

Remy drew away, their tone defensive as they caught onto Logan's shifting mood.

"It's nothing." At their unamused glare, Logan sighed, correcting himself. "I just… I wish you were this excited all the time. I don't know what happened exactly to make you so apprehensive about your interests but watching you ramble like this is enchanting, Remy."

“Well, I got an image to maintain, gurl,” Remy snarked, “Can’t just be throwing this kind of vulnerability around wherever; gotta save it for the people who matter.”

Logan flushed, ducking his head slightly to avoid the adoring look Remy was giving him, making him feel warm even despite the bite of the wind. “I have to admit that I’m vaguely surprised to be included in that group of people.”

“Hun, you’re almost the whole group. Don’t really have people chomping at the bit to be my best friend.”

Their tone wasn’t disappointed or resigned, simply stating it like they would anything else in their life and it frustrated Logan that they thought they were worth so little in the eyes of other people when they were so valuable in his own.

“I truly can’t imagine why not,” Logan muttered under his breath.

They gave Logan something of a soft look, shaking their head in a way that made Logan wonder if they’d heard him. “Anyway, I think we have a party to be getting back to, doll.”

Flipping their sunglasses back onto the bridge of their nose, they gave Logan an impish grin, tossing in a wink before pushing them up for what Logan was sure was no other reason than to watch his cheeks stain red. They had a tendency to do things like that, to make Logan flustered or stumble with their words and small gestures.

Somehow, he felt as if this could be more than simple teasing, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

They threw their arm around Logan’s shoulders, steering him over towards the door and pulling it open with more flourish than was probably required for the action.

“Wait, Remy.” Logan flung his arm out, stopping Remy halfway to walking back into the house.

He paused for a moment, trying to gather both his thoughts and his courage. Remy only waited patiently, their focus entirely on him—not on the rest of the evening or what they might be doing tomorrow, not even on the stars or the sounds of the party inside, but solely on him and this moment.

“I… enjoyed this…” Logan began, words hesitant and low, “And I would be amenable to doing something similar again in the future. Perhaps without the drunk college students in the background.”

A smile softened Remy’s face, their sunglasses gleaming in the dim lights of the street outside and Logan couldn’t tell exactly how they were looking at him but he thought he had a pretty good idea.

“I think I’d like that.”

Logan smiled back—more involuntarily than in mirror of Remy’s own expression. He felt no butterflies or fireworks inside him; instead, Logan felt warm and safe, like a sunrise cresting over the hill, shining a light on a day that he’d been anticipating for months now.

It would also be fair to say he felt… protected. He always did with Remy. Logan would never claim to want for or require protection by any means, however, it was comforting all the same.

“Good.”

It was barely more than a whisper, a suggestion of a word rather than practical implementation.

“Good,” Remy echoed. Then their brow furrowed the tiniest bit, their smile turning into a smirk, “It’s a date then.”

Logan nodded absentmindedly. “Yes, it’s a dat- wait, what?”

Remy laughed at his shocked expression—bright and sharp and their tongue poking out and gods, they were so pretty; Logan wasn’t sure he was capable of fitting all of these emotions inside his chest without simply exploding.

They painted on a Cheshire-cat grin, somehow looking amused and affectionate all at once. “See you ‘round, McKenzie!”

And with those parting words, Remy twirled on the spot and disappeared into the crowd of people, leaving Logan with nothing more than the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears and a night to look forward to.

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @mctaetae613 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @kee-and-co @autistic-virgil @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @thomassandersenthusiast

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #remy sanders #losleep #sleeplogical #lo can write #or so I say hahah #I have to say I'm actually not 100% on the characterisation in this one?? but oh well

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welcome-to-green-hills · 4 years ago

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Ok, let me forget about Sonic for one sec. I really like you, Mystery, and I hope you're doing good! I don't know exactly what's happening in Florida that's upsetting you so much, but I still want you to know that I care about you, ok? Your blog makes me really happy! And I really want you to be happy as well ❤

It’s okay, I can explain.

In the United States of America, our coronavirus numbers are up. We are around 4,450,000 people infected and about 152,000 deaths. Not everyone here is able to get a COVID19 test. You can in my town, but you have to make an appointment... that’s about a week or so of waiting. Results of your test won’t come back until 6-8 days later. That data would not be accurate anymore.

Dr. Anthony Fauci, the USA’s leading doctor on the whole pandemic here, says that for each state you should go back on immediate lockdown if you’re state has a 5% risk of getting infected. The state of Florida is 16% positive. We need to be on a lockdown. My state governor said that we shouldn’t be on lockdown, that would upset Trump.

I could care less what that incompetent fool thinks. State governor and Trump.

In the USA, each citizen is entitled to a form of public education. Trump, not the smartest little boy in the whole world, claims that he can cut funding from public schools and send the funding to private schools if we do not force public schools teachers to go back to a brick and mortar school. Legally, he cannot stop funding. That’s been proven. Public education has been defunded—do not dare challenge me that it’s the same as defunding police—before in the past, but to completely stop funding public schools cannot be done. Legally, it would be almost impossible.

My state governor, Ron DeSantis, claimed that he’ll stop funding funding schools in the state of Florida. I’ve done my research, this is what an anthropologist does, and I found that with Florida’s governor and the USA government funding Florida’s schools is not even near 32%. We get all of our school funding from the working people of the town. That’s why when you go to a public school it looks nice.

The plan that I proposed was simple:

Give The state capital the middle finger and say that we’ll lose the 30% for the one year.

Last year Florida’s education was rewarded a surplus of money for the improvement of test scores in students and with what the school did in performance academic wise. We could use a great chunk of that to keep the paychecks flowing to teachers.

Schools earn money for each kid present on campus. This helps factor in school supplies, such as text books and class materials. Have each kid stay enrolled in a public school and collect that check to invest in online software. We can create Blackboard, Google Classrooms, and Canvas rooms for the new year to interact with each kid to help them through the new year.

It’s a state requirement here that kids in public school need to take an online class. If you have all the kids do this now, then you DONT need to worry of a child will graduate will all Florida credits.

We, my town, partnered with the university that I attend. We could work together and create “Hot Spots.” It would be a designated school bus parked in one part of neighborhoods for low-income students, and provide iPads for students to do their work on. The university agreed to help in a townhall meeting.

I also proposed a math problem to school board members:The average substitute teacher makes $75.00-$100.00 dollars around the week that they substitute. Let’s say that for our seven hour school day, we take six class periods. If they’d have to call upon a sub for each teacher that ONE sick kid interacts with, they school would have to pay for a substitute. But think of this also: kids interact with other teachers, teachers aids, and if they come across some in hallways, then they’d need a sub as well. We’re looking at ten subs for just six teachers, as well as those that need to do lunch duty and dismiss kids from school. You’d need six separate subs for each class... and then think about the other teachers that come to interact with one another. We might need more than ten a day. We could need at least 12 or 14 or more. Each student also interacts with that one kid and transitions to another class... think about THAT. It would be cheaper to use the reward money from last year to invest in hotspots and iPads for each student.

You have to pay for a COVID19 test here. It’s supposed to be free, but some people are reporting that they are paying either $23.00 to $2,300 for each test due to the insurance companies’ fee. Not every test goes to a specific place in back, this means that it’s shipped to whatever lab is willing to take it and test the results given to see if you’re infected or not. The school would have to pay for that.

Again, it would be cheaper to have kids stay home rather than have them go to school each day.

DeSantis stopped testing sites in some parts of the state due to Hurricane Isaias. Why is it that testing sites are closed, but not schools? They could move testing sites somewhere else.

There were lots of things that the school board said that educators should do for their students, but somethings that they’ve said, such as opening windows and taking students outside, violates fire safety hazards and an American Teacher’s ALICE training. (ALICE prevents school violence. I’ve been to a couple of schools where there was really bad school violence). This was detailed in my essay.

DeSantis claimed that teachers can take a sabbatical—that means that they have a job, but they won’t be paid for a whole year—if they’re at-risk. My mom is asthmatic. She can’t afford to take a sabbatical. This was what was written in Florida’s opening process plan for the state’s schools.

DeSantis also states that it’s options for masks in schools for kids. Here’s the thing with that. Children are asymptomatic. They carry the virus and spread it. They can get sick, yes, they have different symptoms than we do. Teachers would have to wear the mask. This already endangers younger kids in elementary school, specifically kids between 4-12. When a teacher speaks, kids will need to study the teacher’s mouth on how words and sentences are pronounced. Their face is already covered. In ONE year, that specific age group could have a development issue on how they speak because they are not seeing how certain words are pronounced. You’ll debate that, “oh, they’ll learn this from parents,” but that’s part of the argument. Developing minds need this access all the time. You could have a generation that would require speech therapy. I’ve been in speech therapy due to hearing problems as a child. That’s not fun. The online screen time where the teacher can call via video chat would be much more efficient.

So, yes. There’s a lot on my mind. I’ve given a chunk of what I’ve explained to many school board members AND to DeSantis himself. This is crucial. This is a matter of saving many lives or endangering lives due to COVID19. The answers were there. Now something else is happening because they’re afraid of losing something that’s not even possible in our USA government. I even used lots of citations in the essay that I’ve shared supporting my arguments.

I encourage you all to use your voice. This is what I proposed.

#mystery anon #off topic #covid 19 #Like I said #I had an essay #I can share it

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acaseofthewiggins · 4 years ago

Text

Reverse Charge Call (Giles/Ethan)

Summary: After the incident with Eyghon, Rupert's back with his parents and has almost got his life back on track. And then he gets a call from Ethan.

Length: 1637 words

Also available on AO3 here.

This is based on a prompt from left_handed_moth, who’s no longer even on Tumblr that’s how long ago I got it. Better late than never? Anyway the prompt was “things you said over the phone” + Giles/Ethan.

----

“Yeah? Er, that is, Giles residence, Rupert speaking.”

“Good afternoon, sir. This is Miriam from the telephone company. Will you accept a reverse charge call from an… Ethan Rayne?”

“%*@#$!”

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Put him through.”

“Hello, Ripper.”

“My name is Rupert. And I thought I told you not to call me here.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice too. Not sure about the new accent, though. Can’t say that it suits you.”

“This is my real accent.”

“Still doesn’t suit you.”

“Why are you calling, Ethan? I thought we agreed to keep our distance while we sorted our lives out.”

“As I remember, most of the agreeing was on one side.”

“A-and I’m quite certain that I’m not in the mood to have this conversation again. I’ve got a lot of studying to do—”

“Oh? Back in uni already?”

“No. Though, if all goes well, I should be by Michaelmas term.”

“Michaelmas term? Oxford, then? Only they’d be too snobby to just say ‘autumn.’ I wonder, have your posh old school chums missed you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I imagine some have moved on by now. It’s been several years. And, as for those who are still there, I imagine they’ve more or less forgotten about me.”

“Yeah, easy enough, isn’t it? Making new friends and forgetting old ones? You were struggling with it when we first met, but you’ve always been such a quick study.”

“I wasn’t planning on forgetting you, Ethan. I’ll be out of London for a few years, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still meet occasionally.”

“Oh, yes. I can just see it. You, me, and your fancy Oxford mates… No? Maybe something more like this: you call, I bus up to Oxford, we meet in some towny bar where you don’t run too much risk of being seen by anyone you know. Or, if that’s still too much for you, you can always pop down to London during a school break, meet me in some dive, and finish up the evening by buggering me in a filthy alley—”

“Ethan! I am at my parents’!”

“Ah yes, and how are the ‘stodgy old hypocrites’ now anyway?”

“My parents are fine. Now—”

“Remember when you took that scabies-infested slag home for Christmas, just to piss them off? Now that was a laugh.”

“The look on their faces was—Er. Th-that is to say, it wasn’t particularly funny in the end. It took Mum months to get rid of the infestation.”

“Come now, you laughed harder than any of us when you told that story.

The funny thing is though, you never had to pick up some twat. You could have taken me up on my offer. Scabies may itch, but I could have really gotten under their skin.”

“...”

“Oh. Bad choice of words. Does your mark ever bother you? Mine does sometimes. Prickles in the middle of the night, keeping me awake. And then I’ll start thinking about what it was like. When he was inside us. That feeling of freedom. All the worry and pain, just sliding away. It’s enough for me to almost want him back. Even remembering—”

“Yes. Well, I do have quite a lot of studying to do, so if there’s nothing else…”

“Wait! I didn’t call just to catch up.”

“What do you want?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was happy to hear your voice. But the thing is… I’m in a spot of trouble.”

“Ah. And what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Mmm, nothing much. A slight complication. I’d agreed to do a job for a clan of Kelroth demons. Just a spot of chaos magic. Meant to make the members of the rival clan lose all their hair. No small feat considering how the buggers are covered in the stuff.”

“So your spell failed?”

“Oh, it worked perfectly. A little too well really.”

“It affected all of them didn’t it?”

“Both clans, yes. And you how vain the Kelroth are about their hair. Now that I’ve seen what’s underneath, I can understand why.”

“Ah. And now the Kelroth want their money back? Money which you, of course, no longer have?”

“Er, yes. Plus extra for ‘loss of dignity.’ Really, I can’t see why I should be blamed for the vagrancies of chaos magic.”

“Why indeed? Honestly, Ethan, don’t you think a little more caution would be warranted? Kelroth demons are notoriously hot-tempered and chaos magic is—”

“Dangerous? Unpredictable? You might be able to afford caution. You’ve got your parents and your destiny to fall back on. But me? At least Janus won’t turn his back on me. I’m not even sure if that’s even possible given his two-sided nature.”

“You’re worshiping Janus now? Have you completely lost your mind? When did this start?”

“A few months ago. I didn’t have you or the others to back me up anymore. I needed power, and Janus offers plenty to his worshipers.”

“And mental instability and early death.”

“I’m touched by your concern. Really. It’d be a little more believable if you hadn’t vanished the instant things got difficult.”

“I told you. I needed some time to see my parents, a-and get my life sorted. That didn’t give you the right to start worshiping chaos.”

“The right? And you’re the authority on what I have the ‘right’ to do?”

“That’s not what I meant. But… you can’t seriously think that Janus is the answer.”

“What I think is that, if I don’t get the Kelroth their money, they’re going to tear my fingers out one by one and give them to their spawn for teething toys.”

“And how much money are we discussing here?”

“Well, the advance was around three hundred quid—”

“Three hundred?! That is, no. I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t.”

“Why not? Your family’s not exactly short on dosh.”

“My family. Not me. And I can’t ask them for money, not after everything I’ve already put them through.”

“There must be something you can do.”

“No, but maybe there’s something you can do. Leave Janus behind. Find a more legitimate use for your gifts. Th-the council maybe. They could always use a sorcerer of your talents. They’d protect you. My word may not count for much with them right now, but maybe if I could convince my father to vouch for you—Don’t laugh, this isn’t a joke!”

“Your father? Hah, well you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny. You weren’t willing to take me to your parents even to piss them off.”

“This is different.”

“Yes. It certainly is. Tell me. How exactly would you introduce me to your father?”

“As a friend. And a competent mage.”

“Right. I’d rather take my chances with the Kelroth.”

“Of course. Why should I expect anything else from you?”

“Look, Ripper. Surely everything we’ve been through together is worth a couple hundred quid?”

“It’s Rupert. And everything I own doesn’t add up to more than a few hundred. Look, Ethan—”

“Hmm. Well, I wonder how your dear Mummy and Daddy would respond if I were to turn up at your doorstep.”

“What?”

“Oh, just imagine the chaos I can make. Not to mention all the things I could tell them. Some of which I’m sure you didn’t mention when you pulled your prodigal son routine.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I can think of a few particularly juicy anecdotes right now. For example, there was the night we started at the King’s Head and ended in the rubbish dump—”

“Ethan, stop. I’d been about to say, before you tried to blackmail me, that I can try to get your money. But it won’t be easy. You said 300 pounds?”

“Er, better make that an even 500. I’ll need a little extra, don’t-rip-out-my-extremities money.”

“500? Jesus, Ethan.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious, you know that. It’s just, you should see how angry this lot is and—”

“Shut up. I’m thinking. My father keeps too close of an eye on the books and artifacts. But my nan collected a lot of stuff on her travels that hasn’t seen the light of day in decades. I bet I could nick some of her things and fence them downtown without anyone being the wiser. … Er, that is, items that aren’t too dangerous to put on the market.”

“I knew I could count on you, Ripper old chap.”

“It’s Rupert! Ripper was an idiotic nickname from the worst part of my life. And I won’t be called by it.”

“The worst? You can’t mean—”

“How can I not mean it?! Randall died, Ethan. Have you already forgotten, or do you just not care?”

“…”

“I’ll get you your 500 pounds. But on one condition.”

“That I’ll get on the straight and narrow and never touch another drop of chaos magic as long as I live?”

“No. We both know you’ll keep looking for your next thrill till it kills you.”

“And you’re any different?”

“I bloody-well am! … Or at least, I’m trying to be.”

“What then?”

“Give me one week to get your money. And after... You will leave me alone. You will not call, you will not scry, you will not write. You will not happen to run into me on the street or turn up suddenly on my door. Our association will be over.”

“But, surely there must be some way we can still be—”

“Be what, Ethan? We’re… we’re not on the same path anymore.”

“I just… don’t want to lose you too.”

“Then don’t make me steal from my family. Tell me you’ll get the money some other way.”

“…”

“I thought not. Give me a week. I’ll contact you through the old channels when I have the money. Now, is there anything else?”

“No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

“Fine. Goodbye, Ethan.”

“Goodbye. Rupert.”

#fanfic #my writing #my fic #btvs #gethan #giles/ethan #rupert giles #ethan rayne #ripper!giles #kinda #pre-canon #dialogue only

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