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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

#bnha 323 #uraraka ochako #rat principal #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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qslovebot · 4 years ago

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Midnight Escapade: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid and the reader have been crushing on each other since they met, but neither of them cared to admit it. When doubled up in a hotel room for the night, reader tries to convince Spencer to go with her at 12:30am to get frozen yogurt to cheer him up and it turns into much more than a snack run.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Swearing, mutual pining (a long time of pining leads up to this fic), food, mention of Sept 11, 2001, self-doubt, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 4533

The case was solved, closed, and finally, your eyes could rest. The case you had just finished was particularly stressful to not only you, but your fellow BAU members as well. You all hadn't slept for nearly twenty-nine hours and Hotch decided it was best you all got the rest you deserved at a nearby hotel.

The ride there, you struggled to keep your eyes open, but Spencer Reid was on another greatly interesting rant about a show he liked, so you figured you would try to stay awake to hear it. You always listened to him because a lot of the time, the rest of the team dismissed him and his oddly accurate monologues. They grew tired of Spencer talking so much about things they didn't understand but you were rather the opposite- and that's probably because you liked Spencer so much.

The two of you met when he was introduced to the BAU. Praised for his mind, he introduced himself to you with a shaky voice and a meek handshake. You instantly admired him from his geeky personality outwards to his tall, thin self with a face sculpted by artists. Little did you know he did the same, but immediately thought of you as out of his league, so he stayed quiet.

You had been friends since then, pairing up on cases as your minds seemed to work like a perfectly oiled machine when together. Like Penelope and Derek, you two were known for the science jokes no one understood and shared looks of adoration that the both of you somehow didn't recognize as romantic. But everyone else saw it.

Derek Morgan teased a lot. He talked to Reid about working with the 'pretty girl' every day, poking him in the side and messing with his hair. The geek and the girl who was smart as hell, but didn't make it her dominant trait.

A doctor and the outgoing agent who matched the loudness of Penelope Garcia at times at karaoke night. You brought more liveliness to the BAU- more music, more spinning, more levity in dark cases. Spencer was always trying to hide a smile when you walked in, trying to pretend he hadn't been waiting for you to bring him coffee each morning. You didn't need an eidetic memory to remember his order and that, for some reason, always sent him over the moon.

But you were here now, listening to him wrap up his story as you fought the sleep that was looming over you as the car came to a stop outside the hotel.

"-And that was the end of it all. I think it's so fascinating how they wrapped everything up into this intricate timeline of interactions and moments and backtracks. We should, uh, watch it sometime." He said as he hopped out of the back, holding his small bag and yours.

You sleepily hopped out after him, hoping you didn't look like you felt, because you truly felt like hell. "Yeah, I'd like that," was all you could really mumble out. He passed you your bag and you smiled your thank you.

Emily held you up by the shoulders as Hotch sent through the check-in information. "Some case, huh?" She laughed as you rubbed your left eye. "I suppose we can't make this a girl's night of post-case celebration if you're dead asleep."

You groaned, "You wanted to do that? Damn it, Em, I'm sorry-"

"You need beauty sleep, (Y/N). I'm not mad or anything, I'll just take a bath and pull out an adult romance novel." A smirk played on her lips as she raised her eyebrows. You chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, no worries."

"Did I hear talk of a romance novel?" Derek shuffled over. "Which one are we reading? 50 Shades of Grey?"

Spencer stepped in, "Did you know that 50 Shades of Grey is actually fanfiction written about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga? If you go further back, Stephanie started Twilight as written alternate universe fanfiction where the emo-slash-hardcore band My Chemical Romance were all vampires. But My Chemical Romance was started by musician and comic book creator- who published a series of comics called The Umbrella Academy in 2008, unrelated, his name was - Gerard Way, who created the band to make music that expressed the trauma he was given from witnessing the twin towers falling on September 11th, 2001."

Emily looked at him, jaw open. "So Nine-Eleven essentially created a badly-written and toxic sex novel, years later?"

Spencer nodded, eyes flickering to you for a brief moment. Derek grinned at Emily, "So you have read 50 Shades of Grey, huh?" He teased. She swat at his wiggly fingers away as Hotch walked over, brow furrowed.

"Rooms need to be doubled up tonight. Morgan, you can come with me. As much as you may hate it, I feel like (Y/L/N) here might collapse on the spot, so we can't go anywhere else." He handed Spencer and Emily a key, expecting them to make their own choices. Of course, Emily knew exactly what she needed to do when Hotch walked off. You were about to turn and go with her, but she bolted off, reaching for JJ.

You looked up at Spencer Reid who had his mouth in a shy, straight-lipped smile. You both knew what this meant, but you were glad you'd get to crash somewhere, floor or not. The room was on the fifth floor, so you took the elevator with Spencer in silence that you were sure he was granting you until you reached the door of your room.

"I will... take the floor tonight," he said, sticking the key in the lock. "You're tired and I'm just going to get dinner and um... read."

His watch read 4:34 pm- it was so much earlier than you had thought, but you were almost collapsing. "I'm sorry," were the last words you could reply with before you walked into the room, got into the bed, and you were out, cold.

You had never had such a fulfilling sleep. You woke up feeling clean, fresh, renewed and restored. There was no groggy feeling that you had accidentally travelled to another dimension while asleep. The room was dim, except for the lamp that was on in the right corner.

When you peered over the edge of the bed, there was Spencer, laying on his stomach with few pillows under his chest and elbows, a book in his hands. He looked peaceful, quiet, calm. "Spence," you whispered. He practically jumped out of his skin and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." You grinned.

He smiled sheepishly, setting down his book. "You're awake."

You nodded back, "How long was I out?"

"Since 4:34, so... 8 hours and 20 minutes. It's only 12:22am." Spencer sat up and against the wall while you adjusted yourself to sit cross-legged. You were still in your clothes from earlier and it surprised you to see Spencer in less preppy clothing.

Well, less preppy for him. No cardigan, no dress shirt, just a t-shirt that read 'math is as easy as pi' with the pi symbol made of cherry pie and his regular khaki pants. "Aren't you tired?" you asked, smiling from his shirt, back to him.

"No, uh, I actually got about four hours in the middle of your eight. I usually don't dream anymore but I actually dreamt I was falling, which is a sign of..." he stopped himself, but he was with another profiler, what was the use, you could already fill in the blanks. He continued, "Which is a sign of insecurity and inferiority, but I don't believe in dream analysis..."

You furrowed your brow, watching his eyes look down at his hands. "Are you feeling insecure and inferior, Dr.Reid, because need I remind you that 99% of the time, it's your brain that leads us to solve the cases."

He shook his head, "Thinking myself over, I'd-I'd say it doesn't revolve around work." The stutter was back. He hadn't talked to you with a stutter in months, you'd assumed it was just because he wasn't as comfortable around you then, but now it was back. Spencer Reid needed to be cheered up, something was wrong.

"Well you know you can tell me anything, right? I've kept secrets about my friends since grade one, I can keep yours." You slipped off of the bed and walked to your bag on the table in the far corner. You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you went, so you shot him a smile over your shoulder. He reverted back to looking at his hands.

Through situations and being friends, you knew Spencer was insecure. He was bullied constantly as a child, some going as far as to strip him down and beat him. Disgusting, self-esteem-ruining acts you wished you could remove from his eidetic memory.

You took off your button-up blouse to stay in your white t-shirt that lay underneath. You hadn't the time to remove it before falling asleep. Thinking about that- you probably had bedhead too. Your balled-up shirt was shoved into your bag and you pulled out a brush in exchange, to get the knots out of your hair.

"I could really go for frozen yogurt right now," you said, running the wooden brush through your hair. Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, a little confused. "I haven't eaten dinner."

"It's nearly 12:30 am..." Spencer said. It looked like he was running through his vast mind to find a scientific explanation as to why you might have wanted frozen yogurt at half-past midnight. You let him, a teasing smile on your lips as you pulled the top bit of your hair up. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, out of the blue, entirely serious. Seemed like the only logical explanation he could find. You nearly choked on the air.

"No, Spencer, I am not pregnant!" You laughed. His face tightened as he went back to searching his mind. "I just want frozen yogurt. Regular cravings, not... pregnancy cravings. Are you coming?"

He looked at you, oddly surprised he was invited. "Why?"

"Why not?" You picked up his jacket from the hook and tossed it to him. "Nobody has to see your cheesy math shirt."

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, but went right back to being analytical, a mumbling rant with hand gestures.

"The average half-cup serving of frozen yogurt alone has about 17.3 grams of sugar and plus various toppings, the sugar is upped to at least 25 grams. But, versus a half-cup serving of vanilla ice cream, the sugar is only about 14 grams and with toppings can be upped to about 22. Fat-wise-"

You interrupted him because this was seemingly the only way to lift his mood and he was making excuses to stay here and wallow. "Come on, for once, let's be able to act like the youngest members of the team. Once, Spence. I don't need a play-by-play on how much sugar is in it- though I did find that interesting-I just want frozen yogurt and I would like you to come with me. I'll pay for yours if you want any, just... please?"

He met your eyes with a curl falling down his forehead and quickly looked back at his hands. You'd been friends for nearly a year and four months and he still couldn't look you in the eyes for long. He really wasn't good at refusing you at all, either.

Spencer nodded and you practically beamed. Maybe this would help to take his mind off of what was bothering him, even if the distraction was brief. You jumped on the spot and slipped on your own jacket and grabbed your wallet, ready to go and by the door.

He had a small smile when the two of you stepped out, his hands behind his back. You locked the door behind you and the two of you walked silently to the elevator, careful not to accidentally wake anyone else in case they decided to peer out into the hall.

In the elevator, you turned and looked up at Spencer who was fiddling with his hands. "You look nervous, Spence. It's frozen yogurt, not a pretty girl."

"Well I'm with-" he stopped himself again and actually started laughing his breathy laugh, squeezing his own hand so hard his knuckles turned white while his cheeks and nose went a little pink. "You..." He finished, rocking on his heels.

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. Though you mentally disagreed with him sometimes on your appearance, you smiled and looked back up at him. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

He shrugged himself further into his jacket, hands still wildly fidgeting. "Thank you..."

You both stepped out of the elevator the moment it got to the ground floor, looking for air that wasn't filled with odd tension neither of you could explain. You two walked through the lobby and into the cool midnight air outside, where things were open, dark, and still.

You shut your eyes for a moment and opened your arms to face the gentle, cool wind that blew your hair and hit your face gently. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes again to Spencer in a similar state, but much less relaxed looking. Instead, it looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Spence, you look out of it," you said, folding your arms over your chest. You had gotten him outside, now maybe instead of distracting him from whatever it was, you could help him through it. It was part of being a friend- profiling wasn't needed to see he was thinking long and hard over something that bothered him. "You can tell me what's wrong."

He started walking down the street toward the neon lights that shone bright with the word 'fro-yo', you stepped quickly to follow. "If I like a girl.. h-how am I supposed to go about telling her?" He asked, not even looking at you. His forehead was creased and his hands in his jacket pockets.

So this was about a girl he liked. Spencer Reid had a crush. Of course, you were oblivious it was you, but Spencer Reid was romantically interested in someone!

Yay?

An odd feeling of happiness came with finding this out and there was an uprising feeling within you like the first drop on a rollercoaster, but it lingered... and it was much less happy. You ignored it, of course, letting your outer emotions display themselves.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia- have you finally found a girl that puts you at a loss for words?" You teased, pressing the back of your hand to your head for dramatic effect, struggling to keep up with him.

His mouth twitched, "Maybe."

"Well, to be honest, Spence, just... tell her. Just go at it- ask to kiss her, maybe, then confess after. Or... or, you could confess, see how she takes it, then you can see if you should or shouldn't kiss her based off of if you get rejected or not." You told him, catching him by the shoulder to get him to slow down at the entrance of the frozen yogurt place.

He was much taller than you, so that came with him being that much faster, but that didn't matter now, he had stopped. Spencer looked at you, concern in his eyes, panic. You smiled kindly, "She won't reject you. I don't know any girl who would even think of it." Reassurance, because he needed it.

His eyes trailed to the ground and he ran a hand through his hair, opening the door for you. "And w-what do I say?" Spencer asked when you both went inside. You were the only two there and the cashier must have been in the back room.

You hopped over to the flavours, "I mean, whatever feels right, Spence. If you feel like going on a long, romantic, poet-written rant about how much you like her, do that. If you're afraid to bore her, you can wait for her to speak, but the truth is if she can't listen to you rant, she probably isn't worth going for."

He evaluated your words while you casually got yourself vanilla frozen yogurt. He also scanned the flavours, probably mentally shaming the company for marketing this as somewhat healthier. You giggled watching him try to figure out how to get the yogurt out of the machine as you put raspberries in yours.

"(Y/N), uh..." he said quietly, gesturing you over. The genius's mind was scrambled enough to miss the lever in front of him. You took his cup from him and pulled the lever, to which he made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded comprehensively.

"Chocolate mocha," you smiled, handing it to him as he stood there sheepishly again. "Good choice."

You spun back to your yogurt, adding a bit of honey over the top of it all. He followed, choosing raspberries as well, silently adding them. He still didn't seem at rest with the girl thing, you noticed by the way he was failing to open the scoop-box of cookie crumbs. He had long fingers, usually nimble ones, but not so much right now. Spencer was too stressed to work properly. Error in the system, you may have joked if things weren't so bad with him.

When you were both finished, Spencer tapped the little service bell on the desk and a little woman, maybe mid-30s came out wearing the merchandise of the shop. You both placed your cups on the scale and she weighed them for the price, but both you and Spencer pulled out your wallets.

He put his card out faster, so you swat his hand with your card and paid while he mumbled "Ow..." Of course, you checked to see if he was really hurt, but he had his small, crooked smile back on his face. He was okay, maybe he was feeling better?

Saying good morning/night to the lady, you both stepped back into the midnight air, starting to walk, but not back toward the hotel. You'd think with what cases you two had worked on you'd be a little warier, but with each other, you both felt safe. You walked a few steps, eating your yogurt, before Spencer spoke up again. "Is it a bad thing I'm so clueless as to what women like? Everything I know about women is scientific. Chocolate releases endorphins, flowers are associated with beauty and love, but... other than that... I don't know anything."

You swallowed your bite as Reid took his, waiting on your answer. Just as you always listened to him, he always listened to you. He probably valued your opinion over Derek's at times. You waved your spoon in the air when you spoke, "I wouldn't say bad. Everyone starts somewhere for everything. If anything, a man who is willing to learn is more attractive than one who wings it and doesn't ask comprehensive questions to up the relationship quality."

"Asking questions, got it. Should my confession include a gesture, though?" He spoke with his mouth full. Spencer really wanted to get this right- it was admirable. But there came that uneasy feeling again. It was more like an ache this time. Perhaps it was the awkward hours of sleep throwing you off?

You sucked it up, shoved the feeling down. "Really, Spence, it depends on the woman. Do I know her? Maybe I can help- that is unless you want to profile her to get her interests? I can help with that too-"

"No, I-I don't want to profile her, I want to stay away from that, we do that on a near-daily basis."

"We?" You questioned. Reid froze, but kept walking, looking a little petrified. He put more frozen yogurt in his mouth, maybe to shut himself up. You grinned, "We as in you and her are both profilers or we as in you and I profile others together, so you don't want to profile her with me?"

"I don't want us... to profile her," he cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

You sighed with a breathy laugh, "Good, because I was starting to think you were after Emily."

He chuckled, "Oh, no, not Emily. She's too scary for me anyway. Uh..." He swallowed hard, the way he always did was he was anxious or nervous. I saw in his face he'd come to some sort of conclusion. "Don't... don't yell at me for this, alright?"

"Yell at you? Spence, I wouldn't..." You were confused. He set his frozen yogurt down on the bench he had stopped in front of and stood back in front of you, pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked at you with his doe eyes and the wind blew his curls back in front of his face, he looked to the ground. His forehead still creased between his brows, but his eyes were soft and sweet, his nose was slightly scrunched and his mouth was twisted to the side as if he was once again mentally calculating something. You granted him back the silence from earlier, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. That was... until his eyes met yours and he looked so desperately lost and longing and like he ached inside... and you no longer wondered.

You let out another long sigh. She was you.

This girl that he was trying to understand how to win over, she was you. He asked you because he needed to know what you wanted. He was nervous because he was practically confessing to you and you, a profiler, were too blind to see that.

He watched your face for your reaction, waiting for something good, but you were too shocked to react right. He unfroze, hands flying to the roots of his hair and he spun away from you. He started rambling, obviously thinking everything had gone wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That- that wasn't how I had things planned and I was so certain that maybe you-hm- liked me too."

His words made it true. This was, in fact, happening at 12:56am in the middle of a foreign city. Your words spilled out, stern, focused, serious. "Kiss me then."

He spun around again, "What?"

"Confess, then kiss, remember?" You recounted carefully, looking directly at him, stepping closer.

"But I didn't get to do my whole monologue thing-" He was grinning pretty hard now, all signs of stress removed from his face. He looked brighter than the neon froyo sign, in happiness and disbelief right down at you. You were pretty sure you looked similar as all the pieces fell in place in your mind. It all fit.

"I don't care." You beamed back. "Do it after."

So without wasting another second, he grabbed your face and kissed you. He kissed you with a year and four months' worth of frustration, lust, confusion and past jealousies. His hands holding your jaw, his fingertips in your hair and your hands on his chest, holding fast to jacket. The kiss was a little messy the first two seconds, but every second after it was enjoyable and sweet and oddly powerful. He also tasted rich, like chocolate mocha, but you knew where that came from.

He pulled away first, which surprised you, but he didn't move very far, in fact, he mumbled against your lips as he tucked your hair out of your face. "I think I've liked you since you and I first met. You didn't hate my science jokes and instead of being annoyed with my informational rants, you listened to me. I wasn't expecting you to be so involved with me since you're, well... you're you and you're loud and fun and sweet and beautiful, but we worked so well together how could I ignore what I felt?"

His hand was a little shaky still, but his fingertips on your cheek were gentle. He continued to quietly ramble, "I decided maybe I'd do something with myself that wasn't devoted to the BAU so I thought maybe I'd- I'd tell you this. That I think you're beautiful and smart and talented and maybe you'd understand and feel the same way and now that I know maybe you do, I feel oddly put back to how I'm supposed to be. And... I think I'm supposed to be with you. If this is too soon or... ruins our friendship, I'm sorry and I'll slow it down, but I won't stop liking you."

You couldn't believe that in a three-minute span you had gone from painfully oblivious to so extremely wide awake. But it was in the best way possible after a year and four months of you also being painfully crushed by your secret feelings for Dr.Reid.

"It's fine, Spence," you said quietly, smiling at him with the most happiness you had found in months. "More than fine, I can't believe this is real."

He tucked the other side of your hair behind your ear, "You might have DRC, then. It stands for dream-reality confusion and is a difficulty or inability to determine whether an event or experience occurred during the waking state or whether it was part of a dream. I can assure you that you aren't dreami-"

You reached up and pulled him onto your lips by the back of the neck, smiling into it. This would be the first time you've ever shut him up. He welcomed it by kissing you back again, softer this time. Now that he was sure you wouldn't hate him for it, it felt a lot more natural, a lot more at ease. His passion was still there, as was yours, but this was how things were supposed to be. There was no longer a rush.

The two of you started laughing after it all. Both of you laughed at how painfully oblivious you both were and he went on a small explanation as to why we don't see our own tells and how feelings of romantic relation cloud the judgement. You went over every time the rest of the team had made a comment you both secretly loved or some you dismissed because it was an ache to hear.

Spencer opened up about his fear of rejection and you did the same and that too resulted in more laughing because here you were, so afraid, but you had both been in it for so long. You deserved to have each other after all this time not only because you fit, but because everyone saw it too, far before either of you did.

An innocent, fun, midnight escapade to cheer Spencer up turned into him finding a truly happy state of mind. You took that as a win and success as you tossed frozen yogurt containers in the garbage and found your way back to your room where you told Spencer it was okay to sleep in the bed as long as he was nice.

So he let you turn out the lights and lay next to him, your head on his chest in the way you had done before when it was only an achingly platonic move. He played with your hair, stared at the green walls, ranted about the history of the colour green and soon after, the both of you went right back to sleep, entirely happy.

Tagged: @ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #emily prentiss #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer x y/n #cm #aaron hotchner #mutual pining #romance #spencer reid fandom

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pallasperilous · 5 years ago

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Boneless Wings

{AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares.

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now.

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it.

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1. Bird mites. Holy shit.

2. Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

3. Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube.

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose.

4. The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is.

5. When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

6. Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

7. After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning.

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can.

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit.

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8. No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.”

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry.

9. Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

10. Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

11. You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice.

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex.

12a. One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV.

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

12b. The less said about angel molt, the better.

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit.

13. There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings.

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

14. Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas.

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

15. Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement.

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

16. So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon.

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously).

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off.

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17. For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration.

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening.

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack.

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel.

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy.

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato.

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually.

18. There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything.

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

19. Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership.

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns.

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

20. Seriously though, the bird mites.

Gross.

#deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #wingfic #or maybe...#wingsquick #spn fanfic #spn fanart #spn crack #sorry everybody #now with pictures!#pallasperilous art #pallasperilous fic #pallasperilous crack

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hoekaashi · 5 years ago

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3 am Talks - hq pt 2

a/n: i hope you enjoy these! they take place some time during the time skip or close to when the six years are up. pairings: oikawa x reader, iwaizumi x reader, mattsun x reader, kuroo x reader, kenma x reader warnings: some spoilers, smoking weed taglist: @babydabi, @suckersuki, @bakugoustanaccount, @animoozies part 1 | part 3

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

⇾ c o n s p i r a c y t h e o r i e s ⇾ lots of aliens talk ⇾ will try to convince you that he did in fact, see a UFO once ⇾ but also, will complain about the flat ass comments he constant receives ⇾ spills his secret that not even iwa knows - he dropped a shitton of cash to work out with the Kardashian’s personal trainer in hopes to get a nice juicy bubble butt ⇾ spoiler: it didn’t work ⇾ if he’s in a more serious/softer mood, he would talk more about the mistakes he made in the past in regards to his relationships ⇾ friendships or romantic ⇾ a very vulnerable moment for him where he just let’s everything he’s been holding in out

“I swear! I was seven, I went camping with Iwa-chan and his family!” Oikawa was sitting back on his heels with his right hand up, swearing to you. You rolled your eyes. “What, did the aliens abduct you and perform a surgery? You got a nasty scar on you somewhere?” He narrowed his eyes. “I will prove it. I just need to find the picture for you.” “Right. Wait, have you been working out more?” His expression quickly changed from utter disbelief to a smirk. “I have.” “Well, none of it is helping your ass.” He hung his head in defeat. “All that money wasted. I can’t believe I actually thought the Kardashian’s trainer would be able to help me.” “Babe, they’re all plastic and I think that’s the only thing that will help you at this point.” “Every amazing thing about me is natural. Why would I ruin that by enhancing my features unnaturally?” You shrugged. “At least you have that going for you.” “What do you mean ‘at least’?” he asked with air quotes. “I have you, don’t I?” You didn’t expect him to say something like that. “What?” “If you’ve stuck around this long, I must be doing something right. I know I fucked up in the past, but I’m glad you’re so patient with me. It can’t be easy dating someone who only thinks about volleyball.” You smiled softly as he continued. “I want to apologize to Kageyama properly for the way I treated him. And Iwa-chan too. He always had to deal with my bs and that wasn’t his place as my friend.” “Well, he stuck around you all this time, so you must be doing something right too.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ since california is 16 hours behind, these talks would be in the middle of the day for one of you until a surprise visit happens ⇾ but usually, it would just consist of the two of you catching up ⇾ in person though, he would talk more about how freeing it is to be in a new place, away from everything that was familiar ⇾ how it feels good not to live in anyone's shadow and just start fresh ⇾ (not that he hated being with oikawa, it was just something new for him) ⇾ but also how he doesn’t want to get left behind in the game of life ⇾ how even his new friends *cough* ushiwaka *cough* is going after his dreams

“So how do you like California?” It was 2 am, you just picked up your boyfriend from the airport and you were heading back home. It was a long drive back which gave you plenty of time to talk. “It’s nice. You’re not there, but other than that, I like it.” “Don’t let Oikawa hear that,” you laughed. Iwa slid down his seat a bit and got comfortable. “It feels so freeing. It’s a new start. No one knows me as the ace of Seijoh or as the guy who’s friends with Oikawa. I enjoy people not assuming I’m gay for my best friend.” Even though he was being serious, you couldn’t help but snort at the comment. After all, you had been one of those people too. “It’s like I hit restart and I’m enjoying every minute of it.” “Do you miss anything though? You sound like you’re really enjoying it there.” “Of course I miss things and people. Even though it’s fun, I do miss Shittykawa’s annoying ass and walking in on Makki and Mattsun getting high. Hell, sometimes I miss not being around all the fangirls. But everyone is moving on with their lives, so I can’t stay stuck in the past.” You hummed to let him know you were still listening. “I refuse to get left behind. Even Ushiwaka is going after his own goals.” “Who would’ve thought you would go to a new country, run into him there, and become friends?” Iwa laughed. “Not me, and definitely not Oikawa. He still brings it up, to this day. It’s been two years and he thinks I’ve replaced him.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ high talks ⇾ i feel like he’s not stressed about much that he needs to vent or get something off his chest ⇾ would probably feel free when he’s high - free from being an adult - and would talk about that ⇾ maybe some funny stories from high school ⇾ makes lots of jokes ⇾ but once it hits him, he’ll be talking about deep shit ⇾ talks about life and everyone’s purpose, why we’re here, that sort of shit

“And then Iwa got so annoyed, he just pantsed Oikawa in front of the girl.” You giggled as Mattsun finally got the story right. “So what happened with the girl?” you asked. “I think she died in the spot because she got to see Oikawa in his underwear.” He took another hit of his blunt and blew the smoke out, over his head. “I wonder if he’s enjoying Argentina.” You glanced up at him before turning your attention back to the show neither of you were really watching. “I’m sure he misses you guys.” “I hope he finds his purpose. All that practice to never make it to nationals…” He sighed. “Iwa is studying to be a trainer. Him too. I hope he gets what he wants in life.” “And you?” Mattsun chuckled. “My purpose is to enjoy my time here. There are enough people in the world who are stressing over something or another. I’m here to balance the scale. Can’t have too much stress in the world or the negativity will just take over. That’s me and Makki, we just chilling through life. What's that saying? Que salsa?” “Que sera sera?” “Yeah that one! Oikawa said that to me when we were talking once.” “I’m surprised you remembered it.” “I’m smarter than I appear. I can’t threaten the nerds either. Balancing the scales.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ would range from crackhead ideas to deep conversations ⇾ could go from reciting a funny story about kenma to his insecurities in your relationship real fast ⇾ so kuroo is a scorpio and l i t e r a l l y every scorpio I know absolutely sucks ASS at opening up, doesn’t matter what gender ⇾ a part of his insecurities is that you’re constantly trying to get him to open up more and confide in you, but even after knowing him for as long as you have, he barely does ⇾ and it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s just he doesn’t like to feel that vulnerable with anyone ⇾ there would be a lot of thanking you - for being so patient with him, for dealing with his teasing, for accepting his friends, etc ⇾ he doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys serious conversations too much so if he felt awkward, he would try to make things more light, cue talks about the latest scientific discoveries

The two of you were calming down from a story Kuroo told you about Kenma that happened recently. “I’m sure deep down, he wishes we never became friends.” “It’s not hidden very deep. He texted me that this morning.” Moving closer to Kuroo, you rested your arms on his chest and placed your chin on top of your hands. One of his hands automatically went to card through your hair. Kuroo’s face softened as he took a moment to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You stared at him confused. “You’ve been with me for so long. I feel like I know your entire life story and your life stories from your last five lives and here I am, unable to even bring up my childhood and family problems. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.” You shrugged slightly. “I mean, yeah it’s pretty annoying but I’ve just come to…” You bit your tongue. “Come to what?” “Come to not expect anything,” you said with a sigh. That caused Kuroo to sit up, making you sit up as well. “Do you really not expect anything from me now?” “Well, not nothing. More like I’m not expecting you to open up. I’m tired of sounding clingy whenever I try to even ask about your day.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You know I never want you to feel like that, right?” You shrugged again. “I just… I don’t know, it’s just hard for me to open up to other people. I guess I’m just used to having someone who understands me without me having to say anything. Vulnerability feels so strange to me so I just try to avoid it when I can.” He took both your hands into his. “I’ll do a better job, I promise. Thank you for being patient with me.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ he’s not much of a talker, we all know this ⇾ but if you ask him the right questions (ie. being annoyingly persistent) he’ll talk ⇾ LOTS of appreciation ⇾ very grateful to all the people he’s met in his life and how each one that he holds dear to his heart plays a different role in his life ⇾ how much he cherishes the people he loves ⇾ and then the conversation would turn to you - how much he appreciates you ⇾ let’s be honest, kenma sucks ass at being affectionate, his love language is probably quality time because just knowing that you’re willing to sit with him as he streams is good enough to make his gamer heart happy ⇾ so he would take the time to fully express how much he does love you since he rarely makes it known to you in other ways

“Kenma, how much longer are you gonna play? You have class tomorrow,” you said while he was streaming. Glancing at the time, he told his viewers that he was going to wrap it up for the night and he joined you in bed. You were talking his ear off about the meet up you had with some of your friends and you could see him grow more and more irritated. “Why did you call me to sleep if you were just going to talk.” “Oh. Well, this is the only time I got to be with just you today…” You pulled the blanket higher up on your body and curled into a ball with your back to Kenma. You felt him shift under the covers until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I’m sorry. Tell me what happened next.” You shook your head. “It’s fine, we can talk in the morning.” He buried his face in your neck, giving you a soft kiss. “I love you. I don’t say that enough. I cherish you even if I don’t show you that. You and Kuroo and Shoyo. All of you are the closest people to me, and I appreciate you all so much for the different ways you’ve helped me.” You placed your hand on top of his and interlaced your fingers. “I love you too.” “How about we have lunch tomorrow? I can cancel the stream at night and we can watch a movie.” “What about the viewers?” “They can survive one night without watching me. I owe you since I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

#oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #mattsun x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

Text

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

#my writing #tfatws #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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teddybasmanov · 4 years ago

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This is not just a self-insert or self-indulgent – this literally happened like a week ago and I wanted someone to comfort me and so jumped to an obvious conclusion – namely Huxley. You should (probably) thank me that I spent the last bits of dignity I have on not naming the freelancer. Proceed with caution.

Taymyr

Pairing: Huxley x the freelancer

Tags: kind of hurt but not really, comfort, fluff, crying.

Word count: 728

Huxley had to finish his TA notes for tomorrow, so about half an hour ago the freelancer patted him on the shoulder, kissed on the temple and said that they are going to read in bed a bit before going to sleep. Now he’s almost finished and his mind starts to drift to the bedroom where the freelancer is probably already asleep and where he’s going to slip under the covers, wrap his hand… He hears sobbing. Someone is crying loudly and hopelessly. The freelancer is crying!

Hux rushes to the sound but slows down at the threshold and enters the room as quietly and carefully as he can. He does indeed find the freelancer in bed, sobbing and sniffing, tears running down their cheeks and chin, with an open book lying beside them. They don’t even notice him at first and only raise their head when he sits beside them.

“Bro, what's wrong? Is the book that sad?” he’s trying to look into the book just to realize that some of the letters look unfamiliar.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” they sniff again and try to wipe the tears “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re feeling like this, babe” he has seen them crying over movies and books before – silent tears, slightly disturbed breath but that’s it, he got worried the first time he saw it, but they smiled at him and explained that it’s okay, “You can talk to me,” he extends his hands towards the freelancer.

They cling to him like a drowning person to a straw, “Taymyr gets lost in three months!” Well, that didn’t really explain anything.

After some more time of patting the freelancer’s back and head, holding them and hugging them and them blowing their nose into his handkerchief on the volumes close to eardrums breaking, Hux found out:

The book is a sixties sci-fi novel.

It has a lot of specific dates mentioned.

On the ninth of November 2021, the scientific committee has already finished working on the results of the expedition of the starship Taymyr, which has gone missing.

This means in about three months time the starship would not only exist but reach the light speed barrier and accidentally jump into an even more distant future. This means that by that time the humanity would have already dealt with all the other problems – diseases, words hunger, inequality, wars. Capitalism is almost over and the borders are nothing more than a silly formality.

“I feel like writing it all down and nailing to the doors of those cursed capitalists with their space tourism like a damn Martin Luther nailed his theses to the cathedral,” the freelancer jokes bitterly when they calm down.

Huxley holds them close, while they breathe warmly into his shoulder, and thinks of what he can say.

“You know there are people who are trying to make it all better,” he traces patterns on their back, “Both magical and human, dude. My moms, for example, always do en-viron-mental stuff when they can,” he managed to pronounce the word slowly but without stuttering – he must have had practice with it. “And you know there are guys like Damien everywhere,” Hux looks down at the freelancer, “And there are people like us who help them and we’re going to make it better,” their eyes meet.

“I know,” the freelancer’s hands come up to his face, “thank you,” the corners of their mouth twist upwards just a bit.

“Of course, bro,” Hux smiles at them too, “I love you, you know, right?”

“I love you too,” they bury themselves in him again, “Do you still need to finish your work?”

“Nah, I’m done for today,” he kisses the freelancer on top of their head, “even if I did, I wouldn’t have left you now.”

“Good,” they sound very sleepy.

Huxley pulls them closer and carefully lies down so that the freelancer is on top of him.

“Tell me about your TA plans again, please,” they mumble somewhere into his chest.

“Sure,” he smiles again. He has told them at least twice already – first to hear if they have any ideas and second just to be sure he had everything prepared.

The freelancer drifts to sleep while Huxley talks. He follows them soon, soothed by their weight on his chest and the sound of their breathing.

#redacted asmr #fanfiction #writing #Huxley my beloved #redacted huxley #redacted freelancer #yes it's about #XXII century midday #by strugatsky brothers #not actually that badly written #but the target audience is just me #I've wrote this on a train #yes I eventually posted it on ao3

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 5 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Ray Stantz

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You first met Ray when you were both still working at the University. You worked down the hall from him and would run into him frequently.

- In the mornings, the two of you would arrive at the same time and he’d open the door for you. You’d make small talk whenever you ended up in the same room or walking in the same direction and he was always willing to lend you something; or a hand, if you needed it. You didn’t know him incredibly well but you did know that he was a sweet guy.

- Ray had a major crush on you. He pretty much fell for you the moment he saw you but his own insecurities kept him from trying to do anything about it. You were smart, gorgeous, and had an amazing personality. What would you want with him?

- It takes him a while to actually ask you out. He keeps going back and forth on whether or not he should, wondering if he’s willing to make a fool of himself just for the off chance that you’ll agree. Peter has a field day with him when he’s in this state, constantly teasing and prodding, urging him to just get it over with and see what you say.

- There was definitely a few instances of him approaching you and/or opening his mouth to say something to you, then quickly shutting it and excusing himself with an apology. It takes him nearly a year to actually go through with it.

- You were just leaving the building and preparing for your walk home when he caught up with you and somewhat shyly asked if you would like to have dinner with him sometime. To his utter shock, you smiled and agreed, and the two of you made plans to meet.

- The two of you went out to a not so fancy restaurant which was perfect for the occasion. He felt like he was walking on clouds the entire night; here he was, with you, and you actually seemed to like him. What were the odds that you would actually like him?

- But regardless of his disbelief over how lucky he was, the two of you had a really great time together and you were happy to see him again the next day at the university.

- The two of you shared your first kiss on your third date. He was walking you home and you were both stood in front of your door, saying goodbye. You were just about to walk inside when you paused, turning around and placing a gentle kiss on his lips before saying goodnight again and closing your door.

- He was frozen in shock for a good minute and a half but you should have seen the smile on his face.

- It wasn’t long before the two of you considered yourselves a couple, and he couldn’t have been happier.

- Ray is a big sweetheart and you can’t convince me otherwise, though I doubt you would even try. You’ll never meet another man who treats you so right.

- He loves Pda, especially when people recognize him in public. He feels particularly cool with you hanging on his arm.

- Quick giddy kisses.

- He keeps his hand on your lower back whenever you’re standing together, it’s just a habit of his.

- He likes using nicknames; he thinks they’re cute. He usually just calls you things like honey, sweetheart, and beautiful; he’s somewhat old fashioned in that regard. He wouldn’t even mind you calling him pet names. In fact, he’d probably love it.

- He’s a strong boy and proud of it! Ask him to hold something! Ask him to open a pickle jar! Ask him to carry you! He’s got it covered! …Although, occasionally he wont be able to open the pickle jar and you might actually show him up when trying it again for yourself.

- Cheek kisses. He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you in, pressing his lips to your cheek enthusiastically and smiling down at you.

- Stealing his sweaters. They’re big and cozy and he melts every time he sees you wearing them.

- Takeout meals. You order in or pick something up at least once a week.

- He’s not afraid to make a fool out of himself so the two of you always have a great time together, filled with jokes and stupid/ridiculous behavior. He loves being able to make you laugh.

- Cuddling? Sign him the fuck up! No matter what you’re doing, he’ll find a way to squeeze himself beside you and wrap himself around you in some way. Whenever you’re going to bed, you’ll rest your head on his chest with his arms wrapped around you; …or you’ll just be laying almost completely on top of him.

- A lot of your dates are going to be interrupted, it just sort of comes with the territory. When something strange is in the neighborhood, he’s the one being called so you just have to be patient and understanding. He always makes it up to you anyway.

- Occasionally, he’ll stop and pick up flowers or a movie you’ve been wanting to see from the rental place on his way home. He likes surprising you with something nice, especially if he was called away when you were supposed to spend time together.

- Becoming close with Egon, Winston and Peter. You see them constantly so it’s sort of hard not to.

- Sticking by his side and cheering him up when the Ghostbusters aren’t too popular anymore.

- You may or may not be a partial owner of the bookshop. As much as he loves being a Ghostbuster, he can’t deny that he likes running the place with you.

- He’s always there if you need someone to get you something or somewhere. He’s particularly good at pushing through crowds and coming up with things to say that will make it easier for you to do what you have to do. He also just doesn’t take no for an answer so, ya know.

- He’s a total pushover when it comes to you. You can always convince him to do something for you.

- Ray looks like he knows how to fix things. He looks and acts like a man I could trust with my things. If my car broke down, his smiling face would be the one I would ask to help me. So, if you need anything fixed around your house, all you have to do is ask.

- Little traditions. Things like watching a specific show after dinner, going to a certain place every weekend or eating certain things on certain days.

- He loves hugs, they’re pretty much his favorite thing in the entire world.

- Random playful harassment. He kind of likes to tease you, jokingly making fun of and tickling you. He thinks the way you react is cute and it’s usually after you do or say something to him so technically it’s revenge.

- Now, I’m not saying that Ray owns action figures or other toys of that nature, but Ray would definitely be the type to own them.... You may or may not have a little shelf full of figures when you move in together.

- He’s a big fan of going to zoos. You practically know the animals at your local zoo by name from how many times you go to see them.

- Carnival and amusement park dates.

- He gets this dopey smile on his face whenever you try to give him a massage or dote on him in anyway. He’s just so overjoyed that you actually like him and care about his wellbeing. He also just loves the feeling of your hands.

- Ray sort of craves domesticity. Seeing you wearing one of his shirts and cooking breakfast or being there to welcome him home after work or surprising him by doing some chores would literally make him melt. He’s a centimeter away from proposing to you on the spot.

- The two of you are pretty much the epitome of two best friends dating. You have the time of your lives together and are always completely comfortable and happy in each others presences.

- Walking around New York together. You wind up just wandering around the city a lot, occasionally stopping for food or drinks or whatever comes to mind when you pass a store.

- He isn’t the most sensitive person to talk to when you’re upset or scared about something but he apologizes when he goes off on a tangent or says the wrong thing. Don’t blame him too much, he’s got a skewed view of what’s considered a problem rather than a good scientific discovery.

- Ray gets easily excited about a lot of things, he’s sort of like a puppy at times so even though you might not be so amused with a situation, he’ll be incredibly happy. Whenever he notices that you aren’t thrilled, he’ll usually just give you a sheepish smile and a “sorry honey”.

- Having him randomly show up and borderline embarrass you when something big is found out. Just picture the restaurant scene from the second movie.

- Visiting him at the office.

- Letting him gush to you about the paranormal and supernatural.

- Helping him with his research, experiments, and invention. He loves having you around and hearing your input.

- He’s definitely named something after you, whether it be a theory, project or machine he’s created. It’s cute, in a geeky sort of way.

- Be prepared to get scared and not just by ghosts. Sometimes Ray will just pop into view out of nowhere, excitedly talking about something he just saw and scaring the living daylights out of you. He doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, did he do something wrong?

- He works with all things supernatural and paranormal; he’s seen a lot over the years and because of that, he’s gradually gotten more and more protective of you over time. Wouldn’t you if you knew that evil slime once ran wild underneath your girlfriends apartment?

- He gets particularly miffed when jealous, not livid or angry just …miffed. You know he’s not upset with you but you can tell that something is bothering him. Occasionally, you won’t even have to figure out what because he’ll insult whoever he’s jealous of like he’s talking about the weather.

- The two of you don’t really fight all too often, you rarely have a reason too, even though your lives are incredibly hectic most of the time. He doesn’t really have one certain way of responding when he’s angry, everything depend on the situation. One day, you’ll bicker, the next, you’ll yell.

- He always feels bad whenever he snaps at you. Almost immediately after he storms out, he’ll get this pang of guilt in his chest and debate on whether or not he should just walk back in and apologize. He usually doesn’t right then; wanting to give you time to yourself, but does come back not very long after and apologizes, admitting he was wrong if he was and asking if things are alright between the two of you.

- He’s always happy to say he loves you, and gosh does he love hearing you say it.

- Your family probably loves him. He’s a guy that’s easy to get along with …and he’s a ghostbuster so he’s got that going for him.

- Ray is sooo ready to have kids and settle down with you, he’s just waiting until he’s in a more stable work environment. He doesn’t need any ghosties lurking in your kids nursery, even if he’s the most equipped to get rid of them.

#ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters headcanon #ghostbusters headcanons #ghostbusters imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanon #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #ray stantz imagine #ray stantz headcanons #ray stantz headcanon

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su-univeralai · 4 years ago

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GOOODDDD MORRNNNNIINNNGGGGG SUU 💛

I am here for your essay. Or yknow, just any dunebaby facts that you can spare.

*heavy breathing* oh no, she's come for my OCs exactly like she said she would.

lolol Ok, I've got bios on 9 out of 10 of my kids so far, but I wrote a quick blurb about them so hopefully you can't figure out who I didn't start until now lol. The older 4 (which 3/4 are legit characters in LOK, but tweaked to my liking) are grown-ass adults while the other 6 are probably between 14-21. So, our beloved Taang parents have been popping kids out from when they were 18 or 19 to 39 or 40 years old.

At some point I'll make a family tree for you, since most of the older dunebabies have their own families and that can be confusing. Some have more information than others, but more will be added on each of them as time goes on. I just haven't figured them out yet.

Also, gonna put a cut here, because it's a long post and I know not everyone wants to see my OCs lol.

Ok Onto the Dunebabies from oldest to youngest:

Gyatso (M) Airbender, 35: Named after Aang’s father figure, Gyatso is Toph and Aang’s first born and first of several airbending children. He has a knack for the art and excelled quickly with mastering it, narrowly falling short of beating Aang’s record of mastering airbending at 13. As he got older and his parents continued having children, he became like a father figure to the younger ones. That’s the best part about having tons of kids, right? At some point the older ones raise the younger ones and the parents can just have fun. Once Tiao Wu turned 13, Gyatso and his own wife, boyfriend, and kids moved away from home and resided in the Western Air Temple with some Air Acolytes.

Lin (F) Earthbender, 32: Lin is a straight arrow, always following the rules. Sometimes Toph’s jokes that her first born daughter is actually Katara’s because wasn’t as goofy as Gyatso and Tenzin. As kids, Lin and Tenzin butted heads like no other. They may have had a year or two when they got along, but that was when Lin was training to be a police officer and Tenzin was always out because he was dating Pema. They constantly bicker at family gatherings, but make a mean team when they spar against the other next gen kids. Their twin telepathy (yes, they are twins in my universe) comes into play and they are undefeatable. That is until the triplets becomes masters in their own right. While Lin is a talented earthbender and metalbender, she struggled with picking it up (perhaps because of Toph’s hardcore teaching style). She responded to a “more gentle approach” as Katara would say, and Aang helped her learn the basics until she was ready to take on Toph’s more intense lessons. Lin is definitely closer with Aang than she is with Toph, but goes to mom if something needs to be done quickly and under wraps. Lin works long hours as chief of the police force in republic city, so she doesn’t have much time for romance. When she finds a spare moment for intimacy, she frequents a bar that accepts everyone. She brought Songa with her before her little sis fell in love with (insert steambaby daughter name here).

Tenzin (M) Airbender, 32: Tbh Tenzin still marries Pema and has his four kids, like in LOK. Lol. Unlike the show, with the weight of the whole air nation not on his shoulders, Tenzin was not a serious kid. He played pai sho with the white lotus members and roughed it up with Lin. Tenzin had a difficult time mastering airbending, though. He lacked the spiritual connection that his father and brother easily had. He blamed being stuck with an earthbender in the womb for 9 months at his lack of skill with airbending. His masters airbending at 21 and is pumped to finally get his tattoos. Since Pema is an air acolyte, I'm saying that her parents were also acolytes, and she and Tenzin met as kids and got along really well. They started dating at 16. Tenzin wanted to wait to get his arrows before proposing to her, so they date for 5 long years as Pema cheered him on in the grueling training. Tenzin and Pema eventually move to the Northern Air Temple and kept Teo company.

Suyin (F) Earthbender, 26: Suyin was a troublemaker when she was a kid, always pranking her siblings. She spent way too much time with Sokka. At least that’s what Toph says. Her teenage years, that’s when things became dicey. With Lin on the streets as a cop and Su committing petty crimes, the two were bound to cross paths. After Lin brought her in for whay must have been the thousandth time and Toph had to bail her out, Toph sent her to the her old stomping ground: the Earth Rumble 6. Toph still had her ear in the stadium and stayed in touch with The Boulder, and she thought it’d do her some good to get beat up by other earthbenders. Su stayed with her grandparents and got the structure she needed and got her act together. She got pounded by her opponents the first few years, but she slowly moved her way up the food chain and eventually held her mother’s old title as champion. Once she turned 18, she left to travel the world, meeting up with Kya (can't decide if Kya will be a steambaby or a Sukka baby. Is there a cut name for Sukka babies?). Along the way she met Bataar and fell in love with him and together build zaofu and have all their kids from LOK.

Songa (F) Airbender, 21: The oldest of the triplets to be born. Songa is a calm spirit, she reminds Aang of Yangchen with her way of keeping the peace in their large family. She’s a true romantic like her father and catches the attention of a lot of men, but alas, her heart is won over by one of Katara and Zuko’s daughters, (insert steambaby name here lol). She sees the best in everyone and trusts a little too easily. Watch out though, if you get on her bad side or betray her trust one too many times, her mother’s sass and tongue come out and no one wants to be hit by her earthbending styled airbending. Songa is a talented bender and has a tendency to use her airbending like an earthbender, facing things head on. She can seemlessly switch between styles, but she'd prefer to take her opponents on directly.

Kera (F) Nonbender, 21: Kera is the heart of the triplets. She’s passionate like a firebender and meets conflict head-on like her mom. Being the first non-bender didn’t feel great coming from the lineage of the Avatar and Toph Beifond, strongest earthbender in the world and metalbender originator, but she found peace in being a non-bender when hearing all the stories of Sokka, Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Teo, and their many other friends taking down bender and non-benders alike. Kera begged her parents to live in the Fire Nation to study under Mai and Ty Lee. Aang and Toph didn’t have any problems with her going, but Zuko and Katara did, fearing she (being a dunebaby) would cause mayhem in the palace. Only after swearing to Zuko that she wouldn’t make a mess did the Fire Lord allow her stay with them. During her time there, she mastered Mai and Ty Lee’s techniques and trained under the Yuyan archers. When she came home, she could beat the other two thirds of her triplets easily. Only when she teams up with the other two, can they take down Lin and Tenzin.

Choekyi (M) Airbender, 21: The last of the triplets to come be birthed. Choekyi is a free spirit, much like his father. He enjoys traveling and meeting new people. As a child (and an adult) he is easily excited and is a very charismatic guy, which gets him far with the ladies in his teens and early twenties. He’s never scared of trying new things, sometimes to his detriment, as he gets hurt a lot for someone light on his toes. His preferred method of transportation is air scooter. Choekyi gets along with Uncle Sokka the most, with his never ending jokes and letting him learn how to throw a boomerang even though he’s a bender. Choekyi spends some time in the swamp with the swamp benders just because he finds them to be hilarious and interesting. This is where he connects with his spirituality and returns to excel in airbending, and earns his tattoos.

Songa and Kera are idenitcal twins, so no one (beside Toph and Choekyi) can tell them apart until Songa earns her arrows. Choekyi looks similar to them, as he is their triplet, but since he came from a different egg, he turns out to be much taller than his sisters. Just imagine Toph's face when she feels three freakin' heartbeats along with hers. Idk if that's scientifically sound, but it's my universe, so I can say what I want lol.

Gyun (M) Nonbender, 18: He's a very musical guy. Gyun means music, but it can also mean germ or bacteria. So his older siblings make fun of him when he’s young. While his bending siblings practice and spar, he masters most musical instruments and even becomes a skilled singer. He’s a favorite of Uncle Iroh’s and spends time with him playing music and perfecting his tea making when he’s not training with Master Piandao and mastering different types of sword fighting styles. Gyun is a lover, not a fighter, and is recruited as the youngest member of the national opera company. He rises in fame, without having to reveal his high ranking connections to his family members. Gyun is a true renaissance man (you know if the renaissance existed back then). He looks up to all of his siblings and soaks in all the stories and advice his can get to perfect the art of storytelling and acting.

MeiLin (F) Nonbender, 17: MeiLin may be one of the youngest, but she’s definitely the sassiest of the bunch. With the personality like her mother, it’s no wonder she’s a bosslady even from a young age. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. While she’s the beauty of the dunebabies (but who really isn’t attractive in this family?) and can hold her poise better than any royal, from the tender age of three, she’s wanted to become the fiercest fighter in the world. After a lot of convincing, Toph and Aang let her train with Aunt Suki and learn how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior. After she masters that, She begs her parents to send her to the Fire Nation to study under Mai and Ty Lee. By the time she’s 14, she’s already mastered the art of dagger throwing, chi blocking, and the Kyoshi warriors fighting style. Aang isn’t too pleased that she fights in tournaments like Toph did, but Toph watches every match she can get! MeiLin asks her to bet on her and they split the wealth at the end. Lin wants her youngest sister to join the police force when she turns 18, but MeiLin isn't sure she wants to enforce the law like Lin.

Tiao Wu (M) Earthbender, 14: The baby of the family, and loves it. Unlike MeiLin, Tiao Wu is a homebody and a huge mama’s boy, though really isn’t a mama’s boy in the Beifong Family? Like his name suggests, he’s a great dancer and for an earthbender, he sure is light on his toes. While Gyatso is called Twinkletoes Jr, Tiao Wu is known as the Fancy Dancer. Literally. That’s the stage name he chose for his bending dance competitions. When he’s not dancing or hanging out with Toph, he’s studying his cousin’s bending forms, wanting to incorporate it into his repertoire. Tiao Wu is also close to Aang, as he showed an early talent to be one with the spirits. As a six year old, he would meditate next to Aang and beat the freakin’ Avatar, master of all four elements and bridge between the physical and spiritual world, to the Spirit World. He’s also known to be the only human who is allowed to visit Wong Si Tong’s library there.

ALRIGHT Joy, here are some basic facts about my dunebabies universe. If you or anyone else wants to send me asks so I can more deeply construct their personalities, feel free!

#I did it Joy!!#thanks for the ask #my asks are open #ask me about my dunebabies #eventually i'll create steambabies and other next gen #but her now only dunebabies #who's your favorite?#can you guess who I didn't have a backstory for yet?#you and stitch should be proud of me #ignore the fact that I haven't looked at my wips in months #i mean what?#I definitely am working my wips #👀

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acousticcheeze · 4 years ago

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Here's my 100 questions for my OC thing!

My OC is Laureli, a 6'2 Altmer trying to make his way in Skyrim

1. What do they smell like?

Whatever alchemy ingredient he’s been working with, really. Lavender is what he smells like most often, though.

2. What is their voice like?

A smooth-ish medium pitch Altmer voice that has elements of calm and irritation.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Helping others through his alchemy. He wants to improve medicine for Skyrim, as well as all of Tamriel.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

He had a whole scientific presentation one year that ended up being completely wrong. He got humiliated in front of everyone.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Winces at it, curses, and then gets to treating the problem.

6. What do they like to wear?

Functional clothes that keep him warm and allow him to carry alchemy ingredients in his pockets.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

The relationships with some of the people he’s helped over the years. It gave him a sense of purpose and fulfillment knowing that he could help people, save people.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

He’s an alchemist...in Skyrim...I’m pretty sure there are a few contenders… (giants toe, large/small antlers, ectoplasm, the list goes on)

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Normal side sleeper. Prefers to sleep on his left side.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Horker stew. It’s actually way better than he thought it would be.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

If what he’s doing is good enough. He has big problems with perfectionism that still persist with him even after leaving Summerset.

12. How do they like to dress?

Robes with an alchemy enchantment and a hood.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

He tries to shake them off, but has panic attacks and whatnot sometimes as a result of them.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Is completely shattered by it. He’s dealt with this so many times before, though, so he keeps his cards close to his chest.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Creating potions that help much more than the average cure disease potion would, as well as all sorts of other concoctions. Also, he’s created a sort of disinfectant and is working on a hand sanitizer.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Cranky, cranky, cranky.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Drunk? Oh no no no no Laureli does not drink (and even if he did he’d be out real quick)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

He isn’t really into music, but he enjoys the songs the bard plays at the Bannered Mare.

19. Are they right or left handed?

Right, but is practicing with his left hand too in case something happens to his right.

20. Fears?

Death and failure, mostly.

21. Favorite kind of weather?

As the sun rises and there’s dew all over the grass, the light reflecting through each drop.

22. Favorite color?

The color of eyes. Or, more specifically, the hundreds of little pinpricks of different colors inside of eyes, It’s really quite fascinating.

23. Do they collect anything?

OH YEAH. So many different alchemy ingredients and random stuff to be used in his next works-

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold, which is good since he lives in Skyrim.

25. What is their eye color?

Chartreuse (like most Altmer)

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Altmer

27. Hair color?

White

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Yup. Breezehome is small, but manageable, and Whiterun is a decent hold to live in.

29. Are they a morning person?

Yes. He gets tired around 9 and can’t stay up past 12.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

Very organized. Again, he’s a perfectionist.

32. Pet peeves?

People touching his things as well as people inserting themselves into his business.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

An amulet of Talos a Nord gave him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to learn much about Talos at home, and he found it very interesting talking to the local Nords about their beliefs. That amulet reminds him of his first day in Skyrim, the first day of his new life.

34. Least favorite food?

Taffy treats, or anything with that sort of texture and stickiness that can get stuck to his teeth very easily.

35. Least favorite color?

Very pale green. It looks gross.

36. Least favorite smell?

Death. (Yes, death has a smell)

37. When was the last time they cried?

Recently.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

No. Oh Auri-el, no no no no. He cries alone and he makes sure of it.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

Was in a fire when he was younger, he has a burn going up the inner leg on his right leg.

40. Do they have any scars?

Only mental ones. (and the burn scar on his leg)

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Perfectionism, past abuse, self hate, among others.

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Picking at his nails. He knows it makes them hurt and get bloody, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He can be very rude if he’s working, but to be fair, it is really annoying to be bothered in the middle of your work.

44. Why might someone love them?

Who wouldn’t love an overworked science boye? But in all seriousness, if he loves someone, he will be very caring towards them and is also just great listener. Tries not to care any more though because of personal trauma.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yup. He’s heard of people’s encounters with them. Honestly, you’d be stupid to not believe in them.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

At this point? No. Farkas later down the line? Yes.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Farkas, but we ain’t talking about that yet~

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

49. Do they like surprises?

No. Please do not surprise this poor man he will stagger back and crash into everything.

50. When is their birthday?

9th of Hearthfire (September 9th)

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

He takes a few seconds to acknowledge it and then gets on with his work.

52. Do they have any family?

Yup! A Mom, a Dad, a younger sister, and a male cousin that lives nearby (he’s in the Thalmor and the whole family has very Pro-Thalmor views)

53. Are they close to their family?

HAH- no~

54. What is their MBTI type?

INTJ (Damn this list for making me look up stereotypes for this. Honestly I hate the MBTI system so much-)

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Virgo

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Ravenclaw

57. What D&D alignment are they?

If lawful chaotic good was a thing then yes

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Yes, but they are often so tangled up that it’s hard to get any real meaning from them.

59. What are their views on death?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll be fine-” Hopes that he’ll be fine but is really scared about it.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Bad science puns. He will stifle a chuckle before telling you how bad your joke was.

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

This man does not get bored. He will always find something alchemy related to study or look into.

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

Yes. Laureli loves the Skyrim weather (for the most part. Places like Dawnstar and Winterhold suck)

63. Do they have an accent?

Yes. He has the typical Altmer accent.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

“Why is this here? This isn’t mine.”

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say

He would probably take too long deciding and die before he could do/say anything.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Sex repulsed asexual.

67. What is their sexuality?

GAY

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

Nope.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

He’s seen so much it would take a lot to surprise him here.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

Grumpy scientist with no people skills.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yes, definitely

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Not really. (Lucky)

73. Do they have a pet?

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Nope, unless you press his buttons. His anger is pretty much “What in the name of Auri-el is wrong with you?! Don’t touch my equipment!!”

75. How patient are they?

Very...until you hit his limit. Then he gets passive aggressive.

76. Are they good at cooking?

Not really. He can be good at it, he just chose not to learn in favor of working on his projects. Can make enough to live on, though.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

He doesn't have a favorite insult (he rarely insults people).

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Talking fast, pacing, flappy hands.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Try to avoid bringing those fears up around them and avoiding making fun of them. If their fear is nearby, he will either tell them or take care of it. (which is good because Farkas is scared of spiders)

80. Are they trustworthy?

Yes, but you have to be a very certain kind of person to work with him.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Sometimes, especially romantic feelings. Romantic attraction? Nope, not possible- (It totally is; he’s in denial)

82. Do they exercise regularly?

With all of the walking he does around various holds, yes.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yes. He’s a perfectionist with many things, but has learned to let go a bit more when it comes to his appearance. He still will take ages to get ready, though.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Tattoos, braids, basically everything you’d see on a typical Nord. It’s so different from his home and he’s completely enamored.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Himbo nord men. Sweet morons basically.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Not really. Sweet foods do have their place, but he isn’t wanting to get any cavities, so he tries to limit his sugar. (Especially since Altmer live 200-300 years aprox)

87. What is their age?

52 (~20s for an Altmer)

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Tall, but about average for an Altmer

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

No, but if he did he would have half-moon spectacles.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Not really. He doesn’t really think anyone is attractive. (Well, except for Nord himbos, but he doesn’t know that until he meets Farkas)

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Practically nonexistent, but when there is humor it’s mostly dry and sardonic.

92. What mood are they most often in?

That sort of focused work mode you get in when you’re really concentrating, as well as somewhat-sociable-but-still-kind-of-tired-and-grumpy

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People messing up his equipment. Oh sweet Auri-el, if you touch his things he will explode. Also, he hates the racism that the Thalmor promote. (He hates racism in general, but he hates the Thalmor’s views the most).

94. Outlook on life?

“It sucks, but I do find quite a bit fascinating and I’ll help where I can.”

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

His perfectionism, how lonely he knows he is, and more.

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Again, his perfectionism, as well as having his work dictate more in his life than he should.

97. What is the greatest strength?

His brain. He remembers small details extremely well, and is practically an encyclopedia when it comes to alchemy.

98. Something that they regret?

How awful he used to be to everyone back home. He got a lot of pushback on his dreams and who he was, so he lashed out. Even though there wasn’t much he could do there, he still regrets hiring his family and wants to try at a relationship again with them (lol good luck).

99. Biggest accomplishment?

How is this different from “Greatest Achievement”?

100. Create your own! (Why is his alchemy so different from the norm?)

Because he’s trying to do something much more along the lines of modern medicine as opposed to just potions.

101. (Bonus!) Why is he in Skyrim?

Because it’s rather lacking in the medicine department compared to the other provinces, so he decided his talents would be best used there. Obviously, his family protested, but he went anyways.

#oc #laureli #skyrim

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vendeavendea · 5 years ago

Text

How Entrapta Has Become My All Time Favourite Autistic Representation in Media: Long Version

Just so you know what to expect, this is more of a very long and boring personal post and less of a character analysis. By "very long", I mean "very long". Also, half of it was written at night when I was supposed to be sleeping (like, right now), so some parts might not even make sense. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Just days before I started to watch She-Ra, I answered a question in a writer group where someone asked what are the do's and don'ts of writing an autistic character. I've been told a couple of times in my life that I can’t be autistic based on the fact that I'm not really interested in or good at science, so I think special interests of autistic people are something that definitely has to be presented better in media. So I advised this person to make their character have a special interest that's NOT related to science, technology, space or computers, because it's a very common misconception that people on the autism spectrum are always into these stuff, and there are so many autistic fictional characters based on this stereotype that I feel like we absolutely don't need any more.

And then I saw Entrapta.

I didn't know she's canonically autistic until a much later episode, but it didn't surprise me when I was told she is, because my autism radar went off like a hundred times while watching System Failure and all her other season 1 appearances (so did my ADHD radar, by the way, but as far as I know, this hasn't been confirmed by the creators, so it's just my headcanon). And she looked like the purple ponytails princess version of the autism stereotype that I didn’t want to see any more of. The genius who is into space and robots, knows nothing about human relationships and keeps driving everyone nuts with her long and impossible-to-follow scientific monologues. Also cute and funny, yeah, but still, as someone on the spectrum who is super artistic and has nothing to do with science stuff, my first reaction was "dang, not this shit again." Just for once in my life, I wanted to see an autistic representation that's not just that typical weird tech-lover but a character that's at least a tiny bit more like me. Seeing her only in her first episode, little did I know that Entrapta's character has an incredible depth and her whole arc was going to be hair-raisingly personal to me (I know I'm not funny, but pun intended).

First, let’s talk about robots, because we can't talk about Entrapta without talking about robots. Entrapta builds robots just for fun, because technology is her thing, but there's actually a lot more behind this. Starting from as early as her debute episode, we see through the whole series that she creates robots with different designs, abilities, personalities, very similar to real people, as a sort of substitute for the human (or whatever species) company she'd wish to have. She even gives them names. She programs them to like being around her, to understand her, something that she hasn't really experienced from real people, which is sad enough on its own, but even sadder if we consider that she actually has human staff working at her fortress. She pretty literally makes friends, and she does it with the help of her special interest. And this totally reminds me of my primary school years when I had zero real friends and used my special interest, which was writing fictional stories and creating worlds/universes/languages in my head, to make up imaginary characters that could be my "friends" so that I wouldn't be that lonely.

Then, her interactions with other characters, especially with Hordak. Entrapta consoling Hordak in Huntara is a very powerful scene to me, not only what she says, but also how she says it. When Hordak starts venting about how he is a failure and all, Entrapta's first immediate response is to provide a practical solution, to design an armor for him, and comforting him with words is only a secondary action. She's helping in her own way, with technology, because that's what she's the best at, but she also wants to make sure he understands that fixing imperfections isn't always the solution, embracing them is. I also love how it's hinted with the "loved" crystal that Entrapta's love language may be acts of service (and probably quality time as well), which is another thing we have in common. And there's another thing in that scene I found very relatable: that part when she stops consoling him and starts to talk about herself being a failure instead. In real life, most people would read that in a negative way. I've been in many situations where I've tried doing something similar to people who were venting to me, and normally, they're like "ew, I'm the one complaining now, stop making it about you." But Hordak's reaction is different, all he does is try to tell her she's not a failure before she shushes him, then he just listens. He understands what Entrapta means by saying all those things about herself isn't "hey, look, my life is also horrible, so I get to complain, too" but rather "I feel you, we're the same". For a person who thinks and acts as differently from average people as Entrapta does, connecting with someone through similar experiences and feelings is a huge thing, and this is so relatable to me that I cried like a baby while watching that scene. Also, kudos to Christine Woods for making Entrapta's monologue sound so factual and casual. It really gives the impression of someone who is fully aware of her own strengths and weaknesses and accepts herself as a whole with all her flaws. The way she lists all the things that make her feel like a failure right after saying "imperfection is beautiful" is just... wow. But seriously, this whole "imperfection is beautiful" thing in general is such a cliché that it's not even supposed to work on me, but hell it does, because it's so well-presented that it's actually one of the most powerful moments of the whole series. Entrapta giving me self-acceptance lessons is all I've ever needed in my life (Hordak probably agrees, lol).

Speaking of self-acceptance, I also love how Beast Island shows that it's a long and difficult process with its ups and downs instead of just a door you walk through once in your life and then stay on the other side forever. Even if I accept and love myself the way I am, it's still totally normal to have low points with thoughts like "I'm not suited for friendship" or "everyone leaves me behind". And it's very nice and uplifting to have someone's love and support when I'm in a bad mood with stuff like this on my mind, but personally, I often find it easier to deal with if I have something related to any of my special interests around that I can focus my thoughts on. My "we flew here on an ancient First Ones ship, do you wanna see it?" would be something like "do you wanna create some characters and then write the shit out of them?" and before this show I've never actually realised how neurodiverse it is to use a hobby or interest for self-care like this. The "definitely the ship" part called me out so hard, and I just adore how the writers were able put so much meaning into a single joke line.

Back to interactions, there's also something painfully relatable in the way the other princesses treat Entrapta. Even in the beginning in No Princess Left Behind, but mostly in season 4 and 5. In most cases, Entrapta is only considered to be worthy enough to not be left behind in situations when her skills are useful. Other characters "liking" her isn't really about herself as a person but her tech knowledge. Just like when you go to school and the only reason your classmates want to make friends with you is because you always do your homework and let others copy it, or you're good at explaining stuff and are willing to help people getting prepared for tests/exams. When I was in grammar school, my classmates ignored me or mocked me for liking animation and comics, but every now and then they did the bare minimum of treating me like a human being and expected me to do their arts homework in return, because I was the only one in my class who was good at arts. When I studied linguistics at the uni, I was really into phonology and historical linguistics, and those were the compulsory subjects most of the other students were struggling with, so many people wanted to hang out with me just to make sure they could get my notes before the exams. The same people kept calling me nerd and making fun of me behind my back. I also had a few genuine friends, which I'm grateful for, but I still know what it feels like to be needed only for a specific skill while not being noticed and respected as a person, and Launch portraits this experience in a very clever way. It's so amazing to see how the princesses realise who Entrapta really is and start to treat her as someone who just thinks differently instead of someone who's a deliberate bad person. They finally get to see that she's not just an unwary tech nerd, but also a determined, caring and loyal friend who gives others so much love in her own geeky way and deserves love, too. But I shouldn't even be surprised, I mean, we're talking about a show that teaches us "you worth more than what you can give to other people," and it's great how this message applies to other characters as well, not only to Adora. And the best part is that this whole conflict is not presented as something black and white, it's not like Entrapta is the poor misunderstood autistic person and the princesses are the evil allistic bad guys who mistreat her. It's simply a miscommunication between neurotypical and neurodivergent individuals, and while the other princesses get to understand that they hurt Entrapta by their actions and that they should be more respectful of her, Entrapta also realises that she's made mistakes and hurt people, becomes aware of her own bad habits and makes efforts to get rid of them in order to save Glimmer. Plus I also love the faint implication that most of the princesses never really, genuinely, 100% make friends with Entrapta even after this scene, because sometimes people just don't resonate with each other enough to become close friends, but they learn to accept her differences and treat her with respect, nonetheless. This episode is so full of realistic interactions and character development it blows my mind every time I rewatch it.

I could just go on and on about all those tiny relatable details such as "I've waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!" I think this was the line that first made me fall in love with Entrapta's character. I mean, if someone from the crew wrote this line, that means they might know the feeling, too, so I'm not the only dork who feels this way every time someone asks me a question about my hyperfixations. And it's just so reassuring. Entrapta has many lines of the kind, they're not even important plotwise, but still super relatable and validating.

Now that we're here, and I know that I probably should have said this at the beginning of the post, but I'm too lazy to rewrite the first paragraph accordingly, I'd like to note that these are all my own interpretations and reflections on Entrapta's character based on my own experiences. This whole thing is totally personal, and I don't want anyone to think that this is how Entrapta is supposed to be seen by the whole fandom. So yeah, that's pretty much it for now.

#She-Ra #She-Ra Reboot #SPOP #entrapta #autism #personal

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ryuichirou · 5 years ago

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Oooh can u share you and your gf's headcanon's on top Erwin too :3? Sending you love and positive energy, ty for blessing us with ur art I live for it lol

Do u and your gf have any erwin headcanons?

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

Yesss more headcanons!!

Thank you for your interest and for loving the stuff we post <3 Of course we have A LOT of headcanons on Erwin, we love him to death.

Here we go!

It might look like he isn’t that interested in sex, but looks can be deceiving: this man is quite needy. He is much more stubborn, childish and capricious than he seems. And unlike Eren, who wears his emotions on his sleeve, you can’t really tell what Erwin is thinking about and when he’ll get horny and why. Levi knows Erwin’s freaky face pretty well and can usually sense when he’s getting playful, but sometimes Erwin’s sexytime mood is a surprise to him. Like why? From what? Why now?

Erwin also can be surprisingly reckless, he’s a gambler after all and it affects his sexual life too. He can start being clingy with Levi in a public space just because he made a bet to himself that they won’t get caught, and the possibility tickles his balls.

Erwin is the hugest one out of all people we ship Levi with (in every way…), and since he is Levi’s first in almost all of our AUs, it was kind of difficult for them at first. But Erwin is horny, stubborn and inventive, so he was able to stick his entire peen inside Levi pretty quickly. The fact that Levi is an Ackerman also helped of course.

Erwin isn’t very good at controlling how much weight he’s putting on his partner when he fucks, so he just lays on Levi with his entire bodyweight sometimes. It’s hard to say whether it’s intentional or not, he can say “oops sorry”, but Levi can easily see on his face that he isn’t sorry at all. Erwin enjoys feeling and seeing Levi’s small body hidden completely under his heaviness.

Erwin’s tall and wide and also kind of clumsy sometimes, his movements can be awkward, but he’s so confident that if anyone would feel the awkwardness, it’s not him. It’s actually next to impossible to make Erwin shy or embarrassed.

Erwin, like much Eren, is fascinated by Levi. He’s madly in love with him and adores every single aspect of Levi’s appearance and behaviour. His “scientific” interest mixes up with his love, so sometimes he doesn’t know he has a crush on Levi.

He finds Levi’s bitching charming and arousing in sexual situations. Even if Levi is complaining about something shit-related (as he does…). He even replies to him playfully sometimes. He’s heard “you’re weird/creepy” from Levi more than anyone on this planet.

Erwin is extremely curious. Whether it is the canonverse or modern life AUs, he’s always interested in new sexual practices. Of course, he doesn’t have much time for the experiments in the canonverse, but he still managed to do some very unusual stuff with Levi. And in the AUs he browses the internet daily to learn more about some crazy and weird sexual practices, and then either gives Levi an interesting lecture about it afterwards (while distracting him from the housework/work/anything else…) or just asks Levi to try it with him. It can get really gross sometimes, you just never know with him. Erwin’s choices in what he finds “worthy” of practicing with Levi are very weird, though. You can never guess what he’s planning to do with instruments he has on his hands, or he reveals too little info, hiding something important from Levi and making a surprise for him. Sometimes Levi can get lucky with Erwin and guess stuff correctly, and he almost always knows if Erwin’s hiding something.

This happens in several AUs, but mostly in the NEET!Erwin AU: he’s addicted to weird porn and watches too much stuff. Nothing surprises him at this point.

Erwin prefers ejaculating inside, but he also loves how Levi’s body look when it’s all dirty, so sometimes he tries to do both somehow. He especially likes how it looks on Levi’s face/hair and on his back.

His preferred sexual position kind of depends on the AU. He likes all of them in some ways, but if we’re talking about NEET!Erwin, he enjoys it when Levi is riding his dick the most.

Sometimes we joke that Erwin is a cuckold but there is some truth to it. I’ve said it before, but Erwin just isn’t prone to jealousy. He adores Levi, but he also doesn’t feel that Levi sleeping with Eren would steal something from him, so to speak. There are some nuances that depend on the AU, but a lot of times Erwin just sees the chemistry these two have and says that he doesn’t mind. He even encourages it, especially when he’s busy at work or has to leave the town for some time.

But he’s also extremely interested in seeing Levi having sex from another (unusual to him) angle. So Erwin going “don’t mind me” and watching Ereri is a thing that can happen. Although it usually ends with Erwin being extremely horny and either joining in or fucking the life out of Levi afterwards.

Erwin is a kisser and he leaves a lot of hickeys. He leaves them in unusual places too, Erwin is generally drawn to Levi’s butt and thighs.

Speaking of Levi’s butt. Erwin eats it.

He especially likes to do it when Levi is busy with something. Brushing his teeth, cooking, washing the dishes, standing on a chair to wipe the dust off the bookshelf, anything. Sometimes it’s hard to say whether he’s trying to pleasure Levi or just to indulge himself. It’s both of course, but still, he’s enjoying it too much.

Erwin is the king of multitasking in the worst way possible: sometimes when he’s horny but is doing something, he’ll do both of these things. In the canonverse, it is pretty common for us to headcanon that he received blowjobs from Levi under his table while working, and I dunno I think it’s a fact at this point lol. In the NEET!Erwin AU it’s a usual thing for him to play videogames or watch TV while he’s fucking Levi. And he’s stupidly good at it, although sometimes he either forgets to move his hips or dies in the videogame. It is frustrating to Levi sometimes.

Erwin likes to chat after sex, but more often than not this is just a little break before he goes for the second round. At least two rounds is a norm for him.

You’ve probably guessed it already, but Erwin loves petting.

Ok, I think that’s it for now... Hope you enjoy them ❤️

#replies #erwin smith #headcanons

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uncloseted · 4 years ago

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Hey, I’m a big fan of your blog! When I saw the post about stupid questions, I thought I’d ask for some help. This isn’t necessarily stupid, but I don’t know.

How can I seem more confident?

I am confident within myself, but people are always telling me how insecure I am. Everyone is saying that I should be more confident. I don’t feel insecure, so why do I seem that way? I can be kind of quiet, so maybe that’s why.

Thanks! This isn’t a stupid question at all! The thing I get asked the most is actually how to build self-confidence or to care less about what other people think. For you, it seems like the issue isn’t actually in having self confidence, but in projecting self confidence. Some of that is in body language- having good, open posture (no crossed arms or legs), making eye contact, standing firmly, and not fidgeting will help to convey confidence. Some of it is in language- instead of hedging what you’re going to say will, “I think” or “maybe” or minimizing your feelings with “just”, try making clear, concise, and strong statements that end declaratively rather than questioningly. And some of it is in actions- do you ask everyone around you what they think before you make a decision? Do you defer to other people when a decision has to be made? Do you do things that you’re interested in, wear things you want to wear, watch what you want to watch, etc., regardless of what your friends are doing? You might appear more confident if you start asserting yourself or focusing less on what other people think of you.

Here are some other tips and tricks I’ve amassed for building self-confidence and not caring what other people think. Some of it might be relevant for you and some of it might not, but hopefully someone who needs it will see it.

The first thing to remember about confidence is that people aren’t drawn to people because they’re beautiful, or smart, or kind, or fun, or interesting. People are drawn to people who are confident (or appear to be confident). If you’re confident and weird, you’re not weird, you’re a visionary. If you’re confident and ugly, you’re not ugly, you’re “unconventionally beautiful” or a trendsetter. If you’re confident and overly serious, you’re not boring, you’re a leader. A lot of people think it’s the other way around- that only beautiful, smart, charming people who are well-liked can be confident- but it’s not true. To use a Skins example, Tony’s not a good person. He’s manipulative and cruel. But people like him (at least in the beginning) and go along with what he says because he’s confident. The same goes for Katie. You can argue about whether she’s objectively the most attractive girl in the group, but she acts confident in herself and in her appearance, and it works. Lots of guys are attracted to her. So that’s the first thing- don’t focus on changing yourself (physically or emotionally) in the hopes that you’ll be more confident. Instead, focus on changing your mindset to that of a confident person. It will make a huge difference.

Of course, that’s all easier said than done, and the process of building self confidence can take a while. In the meantime, while you’re on the journey of actually becoming confident, one thing that can help is “faking it until you make it”. When you’re going about your day, ask yourself, “how would a confident person who’s never experienced insecurity or anxiety handle this situation”? Then do what a confident person would do. If you have a really confident friend, it can help to imagine what they would do in a given situation and then do that. Pretend everyone you meet already loves you and thinks you’re great. Pretend like you think you’re great. It will feel uncomfortable at first, but you’ll start getting used to it and the “confident” responses to things will start feeling normal. One thing that can make this a little bit easier is to talk to yourself in the second person. By saying things like “you’ve got this”, your brain will (sort of) feel like you’re receiving advice from somebody else, which is more motivating than getting advice from ourselves.

There are also some exercises you can use to build your self confidence on your own. Some of you have heard this one before, so bare with me, but the first thing I suggest is: every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and say some things you like about yourself. I know you probably feel like you can’t find any, but try. Focus on those things that you like and try to only focus on those things. Write them down, either physically (on a sticky note on your mirror, maybe) or in your phone. Each day, try to add a new thing to the list. When you’re out and about, remember those things that you like about yourself, focus on them, and try to draw attention to them. When other people compliment you, add those to your list as well. I think eventually by recognizing all of the things that you like about yourself, you’ll be able to feel like there are things about you that you can be confident in, and you won’t focus so much on the things that you feel are negative. These don’t have to just be things that are physical. You should include things you like about your personality as well.

A lot of people who are insecure use deprecating humor to cope and as a bid to get other people to like them. But I think that can be really emotionally damaging. Like Hannah Gadsby said in Nanette, “I have built a career out of self-deprecating humor, and I don’t want to do that anymore..do you understand what self-deprecation means when it comes from somebody who already exists in the margins? It’s not humility. It’s humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak, in order to seek permission to speak, and I simply will not do that anymore, not to myself or anybody who identifies with me.” Self-deprecation impacts our self-esteem, and it impacts the way people around us view us. The more times we say something, even as a joke, the more we start to believe it, and the more the people around us start to believe it. So instead, make fun of yourself by pretending you’re really, really cocky. If you trip and fall, instead of saying, “I’m such a disaster”, replace it with “I’m the epitome of grace and beauty”. If you make a piece of art and you think it sucks, say, “Obviously I’m the next Di Vinci/Michelangelo/whatever.” If you say something dumb, instead of saying, “I’m so stupid,” say, “I’m clearly the next Einstein.” You still get to make a joke and diffuse any awkwardness the situation has, but you also get practice saying nice things about yourself. And eventually, you’ll get so used to saying nice things about yourself as a joke that it won’t feel so weird to say those things about yourself in a serious way, too.

For those people who feel insecure about things they did in their past, try and think of something embarrassing one of your friends has done. Can you think of anything? The vast majority of people remember their own embarrassing moments really vividly, but don’t remember things other people have done at all. Reminding yourself that you’re probably the only one who remembers or cares about the mistake you made can help you let go. The mistakes you’ve made in the past are learning experiences that you’ve grown from and changed from, and the fact that you’re embarrassed by them is a good thing. It means that you’re not that person anymore- that you’ve become someone better. I think that’s something to celebrate instead of something to cringe at. It can also help to talk to yourself as if you were a friend who’s remembering an embarrassing moment. Would you tell them how embarrassing that moment was and how much they suck? Probably not. You’d be nice to them and tell them things will be okay. Talk to yourself like you would a friend.

The fact that people aren’t paying attention to what you’re doing doesn’t just apply to cringey things you did in your past. People are unlikely to remember that one time you tried a new hairstyle or wore an unusual piece of clothing. They’re unlikely to remember that one time you asked someone out and they rejected you. So many of the social pressures we feel can be remedied by remembering that most people are way too worried about what they’re doing and how they appear to the world to care about what you’re doing.

One more piece of advice- stop comparing yourself to other people. The old adage, “comparison is the thief of joy” is totally, scientifically proven to be true. Comparing ourselves to other people (or to TV shows, movies, characters in books, etc) makes us much less happy because we’re comparing everything we know about ourselves, good and bad, with a curated version of this person. We don’t see them when they wake up in the morning with crusty eyes and frizzy hair, or when they have the flu, or when they’re overwhelmed and anxious and lashing out at the people around them. But the truth is that everyone, even the people you think have perfect lives that you see on social media, are just people. They have bad habits and negative traits and days where they’re not at their best, just like the rest of us. If you really want to start being confident, one of the best things you can do for yourself is to mute or unfollow the people who make you feel insecure online, and replace them with people who inspire you- artists or activists or cute videos of animals, whatever works. You’ll never be able to feel good about yourself if you’re constantly tracking all the ways in which you feel you don’t measure up. But you will if you’re constantly seeing all the ways in which you do.

Last thing. Basic life care stuff, like good posture, exercising, eating well, sleeping well, meditating, and just generally practicing self-care and taking care of yourself can improve your confidence as well. If you’re not starting on a strong foundation, it’s hard to build anything that will last. But if your foundation is solid, all of the things you do to build your self-confidence on top of that will be, too.

#Anonymous #effys-closet #effys closet

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rina-writes · 5 years ago

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Calm Waters (Part 1)

Summary: For the last five years, you have been locked away twelve to sixteen hours a day in a cell...filled with water. Your ability to hold your breath underwater for extended periods of time has led to a series of unfortunate events that led to your captivity. The only time you get outside of your cell is as a worker at the aquatic theme park where you are trapped. You had resigned to your bleak life until one night, the newly hired, attractive lifeguard, Grayson Dolan, falls into your tank as a result of a prank. Saving his life could be the start to saving yours.

A/N: This is probably the most unique thing I’ve written on this blog because it’s a sci-fi AU. You know how a lot of original content being a former fan fiction (ie. 50 Shades originally being a Twilight fic)...this is the opposite haha. Where this is an original concept that I made a fanfic using the twins since they are my current muses. Sooo....definitely let me know what you think!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, loss of parents, captivity, and bullying. There is also lots of fluff and teenage romance!

If darkness had a temperature it would be cold. That’s what you decided after five years in the cell. It didn’t matter that the water was always kept at 67 degrees Fahrenheit, the optimal temperature for your survival, it always felt cold. In the ocean, the vibrations kept you warm. The sounds of a whale calling to it’s lover, dolphins whispering hello, and sharks chewing their prey all prickled your skin in tiny waves. You didn’t get that in your cell, because it was just you all alone until morning. Then the cover would be lifted and you could embrace the world.

If freedom had a temperature it would be warm. It would be sunshine of a cloudy summer’s day or the cotton candy machine churning out treats for a long line of toddlers. It would the smell of butter popcorn and the snug fit of a new promotional cap. While your world was small, you savored the seconds of your warmth outside of the cell. You knew your days of warmth would continue to decrease as you got older and you wanted to cherish it. This was your so-called youth that you overheard your audience joke about in between performances. Youth, the thing that you knew you possessed, and the one thing that was being taken away from you in order to provide it to another. Youth, the phrase that you understood in concept, but not what it showed in practice.

Until he fell into your cell.

It was what started it all. His kindness and curiosity launched you into a journey of discovering what it meant to be young. What it meant to live for today and tomorrow, making mistakes, learning from them, and making new ones. Falling in love. And ultimately, breaking out of your cell.

You were sleeping when it happened. You learned to find comfort in the dark. You would sink to the bottom and roll yourself into a ball. The entire side of your body would lay on the smooth, cold floor. As you rocked yourself to create small waves in the water, that always felt heavier at the bottom, you would fall asleep. You equated it to “tossing and turning” in a bed, a feeling you had not experienced since your confinement.

The moment his body hit the water, you felt it through all of your nerves. It was like an electric shock. Your eyes opened, despite not being able to see anything, but your skin told you everything you needed to know. Your legs fluttered behind you as you glided toward your target. It almost seemed insulting to call it swimming as your technique was so graceful that it looked like a dance.

At first, you didn’t know what it was.

The creature in your cell was about 5 feet and 11 inches in length, 180 pounds, and terrified. It was thrashing around, causing more waves in the water and alerting you of its presence. Your hands reached out and touched what you could identify was the middle of it’s back. It was covered in a jean jacket, that felt tattered even in the water. It was at that moment that you realized it was a person and one that didn’t want to be here.

You knew it wasn’t a threat. Most threats came in the form of scientific experiments. These tests were accompanied by a bright white light and white lab coats and shades staring at you almost in the nude. They wanted you to feel scared and powerless, so they would never sneak up on you in your own terrain.

Your touch obviously scared the person more, and with a gasp, you felt the last bubbles of breath leave their lips. Now terrified, you pushed the person towards the top of your cell. You figured there had to be a break in it somewhere if someone fell in. As you neared the top, you heard the sounds of distant laughter and footsteps. You knew the sounds of mockery when you heard it. It sent a chill up your spine, and a bit of anger burned in your heart. Why did people always have to hurt others? You saw a bit of light towards one of the edges of your cell and you pushed the person toward it. With a few hefty pushes, you finally got the person over the edge. You continued to push and push until the person was laying on ground beside your cell.

You poked your head through the hole and looked around. It looked different at night than during the day. At night it looked abandoned and scary. You couldn’t see the other cells from where you stood at all, despite knowing that the dolphins were one over and the hammerheads were on the other side. Your eyes narrowed in on the person as they got used to the darkness.

Your brows furrowed as you recognized him. His usually styled dark brown hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, his full brows relaxed, his hazel eyes shut close, his sloped nose twitching as he sucked in air and his full pink lips stuck shut. Grayson was quite popular since his arrival. All the girls liked him and all the boys envied him. To assert their status, some of the guys started picking on him. They would point out that he only wore old clothes and knock offs, and that his mother did all his hair cuts at 18. It seemed as though their latest stunt was tossing him into your cell.

They didn’t know what was in here. This area had been closed off, but it was easy for workers here to get to if you knew how. The cover didn’t allow people to see inside, especially not at night, and during the day, it was too risky to come up here without getting caught. You often heard people whispering above you, but no one ever broke in. You assumed it was neighborhood kids daring each other and backing out of it the moment it got too real. Most likely, Grayson didn’t know the rumors about the “dangerous creature” that lurked the last cell. He probably tried to look cool and pretend to go into the cell. They probably pushed him.

You rested you cheek on your arm which was resting on top of the tank. He really was handsome. Tomorrow, this damage to your cell would be repaired. You wouldn’t be able to exit it on your own. Part of you wanted to take your freedom and do something great with it. Runaway and save yourself from this hell hole.

Instead, you watched the breath finally enter through his lips and the rise and fall of your chest. You told yourself you wouldn’t get far. That no one els like was ever able to successfully blend in and you were the last person to be able to assimilate into society. But this, watching him, was something you could do.

You reached a hand out to touch his arm and then move to his shoulder and then to his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and you retracted immediately. Those hazel eyes squinted at you past his long lashes.

“Angel…” He whispered. He coughed, water coming out of his mouth as he turned on his side.

He may have said more, but you retreated to the bottom of your cell. You curled into your ball and rocked yourself as fast as you could. You tried to forget and fall asleep. You tried to pretend that tomorrow would be another day and you wouldn’t have to suffer the punishment…

Surprisingly, it was a normal day the next day. At sunrise, the glass top of your cell slowly rolled back, allowing the light to slowly seep through. You floated upward with trepidation, worried that there was danger waiting for you at the top. However, as usual there was nothing. You stepped out on to the roof and looked out over the town.

The houses looked like little dots next to the long spiraling streets and highways. You could see cars slowly moving in bumper to bumper traffic, and the specks of people leaving their homes. You wondered, like you always do if you looked like a speck too. You walked to your clothing station, waving at the dolphins as you walked by their cell. You hummed so they knew you were near.

Doris, the eldest dolphin, waved her left fin and then flipped around to twitch her tail fin twice to the right. You sighed and nodded understanding her message. One of the youngest dolphins was still having trouble sleeping. It was “rescued” from one of the fishing traps in the sea and was still adjusting to captivity.

You motioned with your hands at first creating a cover for your eyes with one hand and then letting that hand drop into a fist on top of your open palm. I’ll see what I can do.

You continued walking and opened the storage container. As far as other workers at the park knew, this was where they kept the cleaning supplies. Only you knew that this was where you got your clothes. As you put on your uniform, a white polo shirt and white wide leg shorts, you stared in the tiny, broken reflective piece of glass you kept there as a mirror. Your mother once told you that you couldn’t run around naked because it wasn’t polite. Yet, every night, you stripped off your clothes to your undergarments and every morning you got dressed on this roof. When you first were captured, you would hide away as you got changed. Then you realized that you were just a speck. Not just in terms of distance, but also of importance. No one would ever be curious what you looked like without your clothes.

Angel

The word popped into your head and you shook your head violently as if trying to get it out. It was the way he said it, his chest puffing up with air and then that air releasing from his mouth almost like a gasp as he looked at you with these hopeful eyes.

It didn’t matter. Grayson worked the wave pool as a lifeguard. He didn’t even work near the performance arena. Even if you did run into him, he wouldn’t recognize you. It was way too dark for him to make out your features. Still, you had to confess that the thought of him made you excited. The fantasy of him falling for you, the real you, was one that could keep your mind occupied for a long time.

You put on your socks and your shoes, your skin always drying quickly. Your hair took a few minutes longer, but you put the cap on anyway.

Pete’s Ocean Land.

To some people it was an affordable, local Sea World that saved aquatic creatures from the beach a couple miles away. For you and the other aquatic creatures here, it was a prison. At least you got the chance to leave, because of what you were. The dolphins, sharks, seals...none of them had the ability to just stand on their legs and play human. That’s why you did your best to help them. Making sure they had good food, alerting when they were sick, and keeping them company when you could. It was easier since they understood you.

You had inside jokes. For example, your main job at Pete’s Ocean Land was as one of the lead dolphin performance instructors. Prior to your arrival, they couldn’t get the dolphins to perform any tricks, but you were able to convince them to do it. While you yelled out commands to the crowd, in reality, you were signing the moves to them. The dolphins would often sign back rude or unseemly comments that made you stifle your laughter. Sometimes, they would even ask you who they should splash and you always chose someone who was ruining the event for someone else.

The best part was, the language was a secret. No one knew about it, not even your captors. It allowed you all to speak freely and have a bit of community. You didn’t know the origin of the language, but it was one your mother taught you back then. You always assumed it was the language of her people.

Your mother. Your father. The images of your parents brought both happy and sorrowful memories for you. Your father was human, but your mother was...whatever you were. It wasn’t quite clear. Mermaid sounded a bit far reaching as you didn’t have a fin or gills. If you had to describe your activity under water, it was holding your breath under water for long periods of time and gracefully swimming. Essentially, you were an amphibian. On the outside, however, you appeared like a completely normal 18 year old girl. That was how you were raised until you were 13 years old. Your parents died in a mysterious fire and on the way to the police station to get you up for adoption, you were told that your uncle would take you in.

Your uncle, aka Pete, was your dad’s eldest brother. Apparently, your uncle had tried to persuade your father to put you and your mother in his little exhibit for years, but your father refused. With him out the way, he now could do whatever he wanted with you. He told people he put you in the best boarding school, but in reality, you were locked away in one of the old tanks at the park. You called it a cell, but you knew what it was...it was a tank just like the other animals.

At 13, you ability to breathe under water wasn’t that strong, but Pete trained you. If you could call it that. Locking in that cell until you clawed at the glass for help. He would invite scientists who would push and prod you without a warning, and often with out anything on. You felt disgusting and less than human...thus leading you to feel like you were.

In the five years you lived in captivity, the only hope you had was your job. The occasional little girl that said she wanted your job when she grew up, or listening in on what was hip these days as teenagers conversed in the cafeteria, gave you the will to keep pushing forward.

You considered yourself lucky that Grayson had scurried off and was not found by any of the personnel. It allowed you to keep up appearances.

“Aurora?” You heard a voice ask behind you.

That was your name at the park. Obviously, your uncle couldn’t let you just walk around using your real name when you were supposed to be away. To emphasize your difference more, your hair was frequently dyed bright red. You hated it because when it was freshly dyed it would taint the water in your cell and your uncle wouldn’t bother to change it for days.

“Yes?” You said closing the cabinet. You expected it to be one of the workers here to feed the animals. Whoever they were, they were early.

Your eyes widened when you turned around to see Grayson standing there. He looked different in the light. His skin was so tanned, the muscles in his arms bulging under his white polo shirt. His white shorts hit him different at the waist, like he was a model or something. His hair was styled up in the front and he was cleanly shaven. His eyes, twinkling hazel eyes that looked green in this light, stared at you brightly.

“It was you! You’re the person that saved me!” He yelled.

You dashed forward, your eyes darkening in a way that Grayson had not seen anyone’s eyes change before.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said in your sternness voice “But do not come here and yell at this time of the morning. The hammerheads are still sleeping and they get restless.”

Grayson’s jaw dropped. He let out a soft laugh that faded into a smile.

“I heard you were serious about this, but I guess I didn’t realize how serious.” Grayson put a hand on his chest and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I won’t wake them. I just, I can’t believe it’s you. Last night…”

“What are you talking about?” You asked him frowning.

Your uncle taught you how to deflect any weird questions and it was always by gaslighting. Did you really see that? Are you sure I said that? He taught you threw practice and it hurt you to cause Grayson the same pain that you endured.

Seeing Grayson’s eyes saddened only made it worse.

“Please,” Grayson whispered. “I don’t know how you were able to save me, but you are my guardian angel. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I-I…” You stammered as you stepped away. How could you deny something so sweet?

“Be honest…” Grayson asked. “Is it just an empty tank?”

Your eyes widened. Could this be the silver lining?

“Yeah…” You nodded, walking him over to your cell. It was the first time you ever looked at it from this angle. It looked so big, but down there, it felt so small.

“Whew…” Grayson said with a smile. “I didn’t really buy that it was a monster or anything...but can’t say I’m not glad.”

“No monster down there.” You said, bitterly. “The monster is up here walking around in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a silence. Grayson looked at you, strangely. You wanted to curl into your little ball. You almost settled for the next best thing, running away, when his laughter stopped you.

“You’re so edgy, I love it.” Grayson grinned.

You forced a laugh. “Ha, yes, edgy.” You didn’t really know what that meant, but you would figure it out eventually.

Grayson looked nervous and he glanced away from you. You also took the opportunity to look at the sun. You didn’t have a watch, but from the sun you could tell your shift was starting soon. You needed to prep the performance arena area. You motioned to leave when Grayson stopped you by grabbing your wrist. His skin was so warm now. It was warmth of the sun on the cloudy day, of the cotton candy machine, of butter popcorn...it was that warmth.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” He blurted out. “I-I can invite my brother and his girlfriend if that would make you feel more comfortable for a first date.”

You shook your head. “Dinner? Date? Oh no, I can’t do that.”

You couldn’t leave the premises. Even if you wanted to, you didn’t have anything else to wear. He would know that something was wrong when you came in your uniform, soaking wet.

“How old are you?” He asked. “Are your parents strict?”

“18...and sorta.” Your real parents were not strict at all, but your captor was a demon.

“Hm,” Grayson rubbed his chin with his right hand. “What about lunch at the cafeteria?”

You ate there anyway. There were no rules about you eating with coworkers. You were just so weird, no one wanted to talk to you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

His face lit up with the brightest smile you had ever seen. You felt like your heart had been wrenched. You felt your face get hot and you looked away.

“See you in front of Lu’s?” He asked.

You nodded again. That was the burger joint in the cafeteria. It was where everyone ate and the line was always long. You never bothered to wait because it was lonely to stand on line by yourself. Now, you had someone to talk to while you waited.

You heard Doris making noises and you turned around. Grayson made an “aww” noise and ran over to look at her. Standing behind Grayson, you saw that Doris was signing you a question. She moved her head in a circle to the right before lifting and dropping her tail fin three times. That was an easy translation...

New mate?

“Grayson, let’s go.” You said, pulling his arm. “Doris, is just trying to rile you up.”

“I don’t mind,” Grayson said, but he still allowed you to pull him, liking the way it felt to be held by you.

Behind your back, your crossed your index and middle finger before pulling your crossed fingers in a straight line toward the right.

Shut up.

You heard Doris make another sound as you both exited the roof area that you easily recognized as her laughter.

By lunch time, you stood by the cafeteria with your head down. The cafeteria was really just an outdoor food court with an awning made of cement covering each of the restaurants and a seating area. It had archways all around that allowed people to enter from all side. It was painted a pee yellow color that you hated, but you weren’t sure if it was only because you hated this place.

With your (terribly) dyed red hair, people often stared at you. When people tried to talk to you and realized that your vernacular and knowledge of the world was trapped to five years ago, you were seen as some kind of freak. Once enough people realized you were weirdo, the bullying began. They would make fun of you, sometimes pretending to be your friend only to humiliate you. They would throw food at you. The worst was just the laughing. It felt like everyone who laughed just laughed at you.

“Hey Rory!” Grayson said.

You looked up to see him waving at you theatrically. You pointed to yourself and he nodded with his laugh. His laugh didn’t feel like daggers. It felt comforting.

“Yes, you.” Grayson laughed. “I wanted to give you a nickname and I think Rory is kind of cute. You can call me Gray.”

“Okay, Gray.” You felt a tingle of happiness. You hadn’t had a friend or a nickname in so long, you forgot what it was like.

“Shall we?” He asked, gesturing to the long line, and you nodded.

As you stood in line, you sucked in a deep breath. All eyes were on you and you felt your entire body tense up. You stared at the ground and said nothing as the line slowly inched forward. Grayson cleared his throat and if you had looked at his face, you would have noticed his bashful expression.

“So, besides saving stupid lifeguards, what do you do in your free time?” You looked up to meet his eyes and saw his shining, pearly white smile.

Your eyes darted to the people around you, but this time you realized that it was not YOU they were staring, it was HIM. Suddenly, you realized that people didn’t even see you around him because he was so gorgeous. For some reason, this emboldened you to raise your head, just a little.

“Uh, I don’t really do much outside of work.” You said, trying to seem normal. “I actually really like working with the animals.”

“Oh I see. Do you want to be a marine biologist or something?” Grayson asked. “I think you would be good at it.”

“I don’t know.” You bit your lip. “I’m kinda known for being dumb.”

Grayson’s brows furrowed and you worried you somehow offended him.

“What do you mean?” Grayson asked. “I see you rattle of facts about every species in this place every day, answering the wildest questions with grace. Who is calling you stupid?”

You blushed. “Well, outside of the water, I don’t really know much.” You smiled. “I mean, Doris doesn’t know what’s happening on Facebook.”

“Wait, you don’t have social media?” Grayson asked, his eyes going wide. “Like, nothing?”

You shook your head. Grayson’s jaw remained wide for awhile and then he nodded.

“Oh right, strict parents.” He reminded himself. “So, like how do you usually date people?”

“Ha, I don’t.” You gave a soft laugh that showed your shock at the ridiculous question.

Grayson smirked a little bit. “I mean have you ever kissed anyone?”

You thought about it and you did. Before all of this, before you knew how different you really were, life was pretty alright. You had your first kiss when you were nine, and shortly before the fire you had your second kiss with a boy in your class. He said he wanted you to be his girlfriend, but he wanted you to think about your answer. It was over a vacation break, so you had quite a bit of time. It was an easy decision, you were going to say yes. You just never got a chance to tell him.

“I have, when I was younger.” You glanced at him. “You?’

“Uh yeah, a few times.” Grayson looked away. If you hadn’t kissed that many people, there was no way he was going to list his previous rendezvous.

“What do you do outside of work?” You asked, wanting to learn more about him.

“Typical stuff I guess. I surf, skateboard, hike…” He continued to list outdoor activities that you remembered partaking in or hearing of during your childhood, but it all seemed distant now.

“You’re really active, huh?” You remarked.

“I like it!” Grayson jokingly flexed his muscle. “I like to stay fit. Do you exercise?”

“Uh, I swim.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Ha, no kidding!” Grayson joked. “A little embarrassing to be saved as a lifeguard.”

You smiled. Before you could respond, you realized you were at the front of the line. It felt like a couple seconds with Grayson. Time just flew with him which usually only happened during your performances. The rest of you life was counting the moments until it was over. You almost wished you could relish in this a bit more.

“Can I get the beyond burger, with the vegan cheese fries?” Grayson ordered. He smiled at you. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“What’s the beyond burger?” You asked, tapping your chin. You usually went to the less frequented pasta place and got their pasta of the day. You would split it for dinner, learning over the years that no one would feed you if you didn’t do it yourself.

“It’s a meat substitute.” Grayson explained. “I’m vegan, so…”

Grayson was getting embarrassed. Being vegan wasn’t super popular in your area. When he first starting working at Pete’s Ocean Land, the other boys ridiculed him for it, claiming there was no way he could have six pack without eating meat. He soon learned it wasn’t worth arguing and just stopped talking about it. It felt weird to have this conversation again and he didn’t want you to judge him.

“I’ll try it too.” You said to the person ringing up the order.

Grayson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Alright, well let’s throw in some vegan shakes too.”

The person nodded and gave the total. Grayson put it on his employee card and took the receipt. You waited on the pick up line, rocking back and forth on your heels. Conversation was so difficult for you, but you worried he would ask you more questions if you didn’t beat him to it.

“What do you want to do? Is it your dream to be a lifeguard?” You asked.

Grayson laughed, shaking his head. “No. In my dream world, I would be a pro surfer, but right now, I could settle for being a diving instructor at some fancy resort.”

“You must really like the ocean then.” You deduced, a bit of hope in your voice.

“Yeah, I mean obviously I care about animals since I’m vegan. But, ocean animals are like so cool. It’s a whole ‘nother thing seeing them in their natural habitat and not in tanks.” Grayson paused and his voice drops into a whisper. He leans in to your ear “Like don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Pete rescues these animals, but you never see him put them back. They just stay here forever. How sad.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you felt his hot breath on your skin. It didn’t help that it felt like he was talking about you. You would also have to stay here forever. How sad.

“I wish we could set them all free.” You said in a low voice.

Grayson smiled. He was staring at you with a soft sweet smile that made your heart loop-di-loop. “Yeah me too.”

The number on top of your receipt was called and Grayson went to retrieve your food. You looked around the seating area for an empty space, chewing on your lip nervously. You also hated looking for a seat, this where people would usually try to tease you or throw stuff at you.

“Come on, let me show you my secret spot.” Grayson was holding your food in to-go paper bags, a move you hadn’t noticed until now.

You follow him out of the cafeteria and around the corner. There were some stairs that were blocked off, but Grayson ducked under the barrier with ease and confidence. You followed his lead and walked up the steps to the top floor. It was the roof of the cafeteria and there were tables with benches attached scattered around. There was an umbrella on a few of the tables and Grayson chose one to sit under. You guessed that people were once able to eat up here, but it was closed down for some reason.

“Nice and quiet.” Grayson remarked.

You sat down on the bench just as a cool breeze tickled you skin. You didn’t feel like you were in your prison. In this moment, you felt like you were on a real date. With a very handsome guy who treated you to lunch and wanted to get to know you. It was your first dose of normalcy in a very long time.

Grayson separated your meals, tearing the bag to use it as two plates. You unwrapped your burger and inspected a bit before taking a bite. Grayson was pretending not to stare at you, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see your reaction. Your eyes lit up.

“It’s delicious!” You said, covering your mouth as it was still full. “I haven’t had a burger in a long time, but this tastes amazing.”

Grayson grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”

You continued to devour your burger and Grayson watched as he fought back laughter. He finally started to eat as well, but he would take bites without much thought, focusing mostly on you.

“Try the fries too.” Grayson suggested, pointing at your fries.

You nodded, shifting what was left of your burger to one hand and grabbing your a fry with your now freed hand. Your eyes widened.

“This taste better than the cheesy pasta at Marco’s!” You remarked making Grayson laugh.

“As a mix of Italian and Irish, I can confirm that Marco’s may not be the best judge of cheese.” Grayson gave a bright grin. “But it’s really a cheese substitute sauce that add more seasoning to take compensate for the different flavor.”

“It’s amazing…” You gushed, eating more fries.

As you polished off your food, you couldn’t help but wish you had saved some for later. It would have been nice to enjoy this for dinner instead of as one meal. At the same time, something told you that it wouldn’t taste as good cold. You hoped it would hold you over through the night.

“I love a girl who can eat.” Grayson said, sitting in front of his empty food wrappers. “You almost gave me a run for the money.”

You gave him an embarrassed smile. Your mother always criticized you for eating too quickly. It would give you gas and cause uncomfortable bloating. It had been so long that you had eaten something that you truly enjoyed that made you revert to your old habits.

“It’s not good for you.” You said, echoing our mom’s words. Your eyes danced over to the milkshake, and your mother’s lecture was out of your mind. You reached for it and took a sip.

“This is amazing!” You said, sucking it down faster.

“You say that a lot.” Grayson teased, taking tiny sips of his milkshake. “They are sweeter than real milkshakes to make up for the lack of fat, but I think this is made with oat milk.”

“I really like it.” You said, taking a breath of air. “I want to eat more vegan food.”

Grayson grinned. “There aren’t many vegan options here, but there’s plenty outside the park. If you’re down, we can have a picnic or something after work.”

You face saddened and you shook your head. “I really can’t.”

“Where do you live?” Grayson asked. “I am pretty good with parents. Maybe if they meet me…”

You thought about your parents. They would have loved Grayson. He was sweet, polite, well-mannered and had a great sense of humor. Your father would have probably tried to come off as intimidating, but then he would warm up within seconds telling embarrassing jokes. Your mother would have made some iced tea or something and offer some of her homemade shortbread biscuits. Tears stung your eyes and you blinked quickly to shove them back.

“No.” You shook your head again. “It wouldn’t work.”

Grayson pursed his lips. “Can I call you? What about walking you home from work?”

You shook your head sadly to both questions making Grayson sigh. With slumped shoulders he announced why he was pushing you so much.

“Rory, my shift starts in 20 minutes. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see again. I just want to spend more time with you.” Grayson leaned forward. “I mean don’t you feel the connection between us?”

You blushed. Of course you did, but not because you “saved his life.” For the first time, you were just you. You weren’t some freak being tested and experimented on. For so long, your human status had been ripped from you and allowed you to be treated like garbage. But Grayson saw all animals equally and it made you believe that he would be able to accept you too.

“I do.” You said, finally. “But, I think we should take our time.”

Grayson nodded. “Alright. That’s completely fair.” He laughed nervously. “My brother always says I fall hard way too quickly.”

You smiled. Your friends used to say that about you too. “Tell me more about your brother…”

You and Grayson talked for fifteen more minutes about your childhood and old memories. It was easy to blend in with Grayson since he enjoyed reminiscing. He didn’t ask you about current events or quiz you on gossip. Talking with Grayson was easy and your mouth got dry from speaking and laughing. Most of your interactions were with the other aquatic captives and that was all signing. You hadn’t heard yourself say things outside of the performance script in so long, you forgot that you had opinions and interests.

In the five minutes before Grayson’s shift, you cleaned up and took your trash downstairs to dispose of it. Grayson reached into hug you and you tensed up a bit.

“Sorry, I smell like chlorine.” You apologized.

Grayson laughed. “Don’t we all?”

He hugged you tightly and you realized he was a liar. He didn’t smell like chlorine at all, but of the most refreshing floral scent you had ever encountered. It was almost like the smell of freshly washed linen being fluffed on a bed. So comforting. He waved to you and ran off to the wave pool. You watched him run away before going to feed the dolphins.

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins fic #grayson dolan fluff #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fluff #fic-cw #r-writes-fic

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ashamefullife · 4 years ago

Text

ash-blond & peacock-blue

On such a pleasantly mild summer evening, surrounded by chirping birds, Albedo sometimes forgot what time it was, forgot to look at his pocket watch, and forgot to ride back to town in time. His old bicycle, slightly rusted in some places, was leaning against an apple tree. He himself dangled his legs half over the rock he had climbed and sat on. From there was truly a fantastic view over Mondstadt, though the spot was a bit too far away to see more than blurry outlines of the city walls and houses.

Albedo exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his loose ash-blond hair. The sun was slowly tilting towards the horizon, which meant that the sky had already changed by several shades and levels of blue. Normally, Albedo would take the opportunity to capture this chart of honey yellow, mandarin, fire red, turquoise and lilac on a canvas. He would crawl over to his backpack and search for matching colors, mixing them if necessary, probably almost missing the sunrise in his search. The painting would still look passable, not that he praised himself for it, but the people in town would have liked it for sure. It was always like that. Still, the young artist couldn’t be satisfied with his talent. Today Albedo didn’t pick up a brush, today there would be no painting to show Klee and the other children in the neighborhood. That was unusual for him.

But usually, Albedo's mind wasn’t on certain person either. He would’ve never imagined that it would throw him off track like this - especially now, at a time when he was so busy trying to hold his life together by any means necessary. A nervous breakdown, he thought and then a soft but panicky laugh escaped his mouth. While his fingers were still caught in the middle of his hair strands, he dropped his back onto the warm rock. Although Albedo couldn’t see the sunset anymore, his thoughts felt lighter and his eyes relaxed after staring into sunlight for so long. To lie here, somewhere surrounded by trees, by nature, by fresh air - gave him the feeling of being alive, of an emotion, even if he did not always feel. Even in moments of inner numbness and dullness.

People, on the other hand, gave him the feeling of being a burden, the feeling of having to be active and productive non-stop. It was important to be someone, to be useful for others. To function right. A human machine until the point one could no longer be or no longer wanted to be human. Albedo had already learned that before he came to Mondstadt and he had never questioned it. He liked to learn and work, he liked to be diligent and he knew a lot from an early age on. Others would describe him as inquisitive and curious, but also as a loner and rather quiet type.

But since he knew Kaeya, Albedo began to question things. All philosophical thoughts he had discussed with Sucrose, a girl who sat next to him in some university courses, never seemed to connect with himself - whether he was blind, whether he just didn't want to see it. He didn’t know.

Since he knew Kaeya, he noticed. He realized how naive he had been, how much energy he had lost in the past, how many things he didn't know, even though he loved to learn and was inquisitive and curious. All these details made sense and they were true, not because Albedo wasn't trying, but because he was trying in the wrong corners or trying too hard. He finally understood that it was okay not to have to please everyone.

Nevertheless, the young artist hated this truth, a reality he would like to avert. And he hated that it was Kaeya who gave him the words, the sense, the feeling of meaning, of emotion.

At best he wanted to tell himself that he hated all of this, but it was surprisingly hard. Because every time Kaeya wore his long peacock-blue hair open and took individual strands in his hand, he looked over to Albedo. Followed by stroking some hair out of his face, slowly, practically in slow motion, and every time he did so, this guy grinned. A small dimple formed in his left cheek, nearly invisible, not for an artist, and a skin incredibly delicate and smooth, darker than of the other Mondstadt citizens. The sky-blue eye on the ash-blond young man, no matter where or when, queer through the lecture hall, around the foyer, in the library. As if Kaeya knew what Albedo was thinking. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to immortalize the peacock-blue hair and the owner of it on paper.

Albedo hardly noticed how it was getting gloomy around him, the sun had passed the horizon by 3/4 and the first fireflies were buzzing around in the air. Warmed up by the sun shining during the day, the rock beneath him still radiated pleasant warmth and he slowly turned on his side and pressed his cheek against the stone. The touch felt not unlike a hand. How lonely. How beautiful.

Clearly, he imagined Kaeya's hand, he imagined Kaeya lying next to him. On this lukewarm summer evening when it was not worth being productive or depressed. On which Albedo could have painted a sunset but had changed his mind - because the words in his head that had formed into Kaeya-poetry were louder than the inspiration for art. All the rumors Albedo had heard about the Casanova, the macho, the loudmouth, the egotist. All the women who wanted to bring Kaeya a coffee in the morning, get in his way, while he was almost late for his first class. All his jokes, sarcastic replies, his permanent laughter, and grin - how he knew what he was doing to please. Albedo thought he would loathe Kaeya, but when the ash-blond realized, when he absorbed and understood.

Internalized.

The fascination was overwhelming, the interest awakened in him confusing.

All the terms he usually used in chemistry and physics seemed too scientific. A pure theory. Because what did it mean, what was that chemical love formula, it was one with which you couldn't explain it. Red cheeks and butterflies in bellies have nothing in coming with letters and hexagons.

No matter how hard Albedo tried to remember their first conversation or how words eventually turned into sentences, he couldn't recall it. A whole semester long, the two did attend a few classes together, knew each other's names, and probably had a handful of mutual acquaintances - but didn’t talk. Nothing unusual at a rather large university for two students whose majors took different directions. Still, there must have been a moment, something that had shifted Albedo's attention for a second. It seemed to the blond as if his life would hang on this memory. He wanted to know, he longed for this moment. Albedo needed to understand when the first time had been, when he had looked over at Kaeya and felt him no longer as a student among all the other students, but as a man out of a painting. Too beautiful, too bright to look at with the naked eyes.

What he could remember was that Aether, one of their mutual acquaintances, had mentioned how Kaeya liked to drink Death After Noon, a particularly strong wine, and of the fact that shortly afterwards, Albedo had walked into a campus pub and poured himself a glass of it. The ash-blonde had wanted to know what was so special about it, wanted to know what Kaeya might have experienced on his tongue and taste buds. The wine was fine, Albedo was not a connoisseur in the field anyway, in fact he felt rather confused about why he had been drinking alone.

He didn't want more wine, he wanted to know more about Kaeya.

Kaeya revealed little about himself and tried to keep himself and everything around him in check. He lived with his facade, which got him ahead in life, but seemed to suck him dry emotionally. Control was nice, Albedo knew that too, but not long-lasting and very fragile. The peacock-blue haired one was joking, laughing, and giving his best flirts. Everyone around him fell for his charm, wanted to be around him and hung on his lips. No doubt, this man was charming, but Albedo could see that he also had wounds, scratches, places where his facade tore huge holes and left damage.

There probably wasn't that one moment in which Albedo was aware.

At some point random words had spilled out of their mouths, perhaps they had exchanged trivial text answers or planned a project for a course together. Albedo thought about everything they had talked about in the past. What ideas and fantasies had left his mind to connect somewhere and not be lost in the darkness, such as in his head. There was so much he hadn't said because he didn't know how. Perhaps because of insecurity, fear - because he liked to go on as it was right now. Sometimes they would meet on campus after their last class and sit under a tree. No one talked, shared silence. Kaeya read a few pages in his book and Albedo sketched a rose or a cecilia. It was as if they had agreed in advance, but most of the time it happened naturally and without them coordinating. Later in the evening, when they were both in their own homes, Kaeya would usually send passages that he had liked best from the pages he had read earlier. And then he would add a meme or a funny video, completely out of context, yet appropriate. Albedo had meanwhile completed the sketches, not always showing them to Kaeya, but the latter did not push him.

Some days Kaeya completely disappeared from the picture surface. Neither on campus nor in the chats, Albedo could reach him. Although he didn’t appear to be sick, he wasn’t present. These were the days the blond artist felt lonelier than usual. Funnily enough, he had been used to being alone in the past, a state that had never seemed particularly unpleasant to him. These Days, however, something was missing, a part that slipped into his circulation like serotonin and gave energy for everything necessary.

Yes, Albedo wanted to tell himself that he hated that it was Kaeya who gave him the words, the sense, the feeling of meaning, of emotion. That he hated how much he enjoyed Kaeya's attention, his glances, every conversation he was allowed to have with him. He was unhappily and happily attracted to him. Albedo was afraid that it would eventually hurt him and that he would not be able to bear the pain caused.

But it was so incredibly difficult not to long for Kaeya.

The ash-blonde opened his eyes and stared straight up to the sky, simply to find out that it had become pitch dark. Stars offered him the only source of light, even the fireflies were gone. His cheeks felt wet, the hand numb under the weight of his head and the rock under his body had cooled noticeably.

It was not easy to resist someone like Kaeya. And maybe Albedo didn't want to either.

#genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #albedo #kaeya x albedo #falling in love #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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