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kiaroscuro · 4 months ago

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Title: as the world caves in

Warnings: descriptions of violence, major character death

Rating: Mature

Main Pairing: Ren Amamiya / Arsene

Main Tags: post-canon, zombie au, angst, hurt / comfort, road trips

Warning:

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They wander into the city at the beginning of noon, scouring the shrine grounds first thing in the morning before setting off. The shallow groans of the mutated can be heard even before Ren and Arsene step past the stone arch designating the path towards the temple, and he's got his handgun out in a flash while they carefully slink past the infected humans. The snow crunches softly underfoot, and Ren wonders if there's any survivors in the city -- finds himself disinclined to inspect it. Their priorities right now are to scour a safe base for what might just be the remainder of the winter months: it is early December now, so they were looking at about two months, possibly three before they can continue towards Tokyo.

Nagatsugawa seems to be a very traditional city, at least in the parts they traverse, and none of the homes that are somewhat intact (not broken apart or full of visible gore, that is) seem like they would survive long against any mutated that would try to seriously hurt their little party, especially if it is infected shadows. Arsene frowns as they pass yet another disturbed zen garden. Something more western would probably be better, he comments kind of delicately, as if Ren would chose to be offended now of all times about the disregard for traditional buildings and architecture.

I agree, he sends instead, shifting around. Their short stay in the shrine might've done him good, but he was still stiff from the cold and his shoulder. They have a close encounter with a horde of humans who noticed them, but mutated humans are much less horrifying than shadows, and together they quickly thin the rounds until they can escape -- into a much more modern district, the wooden houses giving way to concrete builds. Ren takes a moment to recuperate, eying the snow in front of them. ...do we want to look for apartments again? Or something like a shopping mall, or hospital? What's the most secure?

Arsene is silent next to Ren, the soft snowfall melting on his mask and skin but sticking to his clothes and wings, making him look like a vengeful snow angel before he answers, head tilted. It depends, really. Considering the length of our stay -- maybe a hotel? Elevated rooms for defense, amenities that might still function -- do thou know anything about this city?

...a horror manga artist lives here, Ren answers, because that's his only bit of trivia. So a hotel, then: with a personal generator in the hopes that we might get some electricity? Unless you suddenly got zio skills I don't know anything about, Ren jokes, and Arsene huffs before they continue. The upside of hotel rooms is also the fact that they have the possibility of finding previously-unoccupied rooms, so that they don't have to invade someone's private home again, which still makes Ren's skin crawl with guilt. They pass a public library, making note of it absentmindedly because it also seems like a good last-minute fortification with its distinctly heavy doors and small, barred windows, before they start their search in earnest.

They dismiss the Hanasarasa and the Windsor as soon as they step into the lobbies and are met with the stench of the decayed and dead, and three more afterwards because Arsene doesn't think they're high enough floorplan-wise. The next is a traditional-styled Onsen Inn hotel that's, again, not very secure but which has a natural hot spring amongst its three choices. Ren stares at it, kind of awed that there'd be one, and they test the water to find it warm against all odds. "...at least we know where to come to take a bath," he murmurs, transfixed. It's been so long since he's had warm running water...

Ren shakes his head before continuing onwards, pressed to find a hotel nearby so that they could use this golden opportunity often. They check out two, finding passable floor-plans and little in the way of dead or mutated people -- one had electronic sliding doors that were broken in, making the lobby a possible hazard, so in the end the hotel they settled on the Enakyo Grand Hotel with its ornate wooden entrance door and rather traditional style. The best of both, Ren joked, glancing around the lobby and noting the little kiosk and restaurant area. Arsene has already walked over to the reception area, leafing through a pamphlet before whistling (somehow. Ren stopped questioning how the persona made over half of his noises with his mask). I agree; there's family suites that are decked out with kitchens -- and gas stoves.

Ren stares. "Really?"

Arsene smiles, wings fluffing up. "Oui. Not all of the rooms, but there's a few in the west part of the building. Not as high as I would've liked, but gas is-- good." He finishes. His voice still was kind of croaky, but nowhere near as bad as in the past, so Ren let it slide that Arsene was talking out loud, sidling up next to him.

"No words on any sort of generators or anything like that, but we can check that out later -- between the gas stove and the hot spring nearby, I think this is a good choice." Ren comments, turning towards the wall of keys and ignoring the flecks of blood in the reception. They'll have to clean out the lobby, Ren thinks, because he can't in good conscience leave it like this if they planned on living here for a while. Arsene consults the pamphlets before choosing their room keys -- five, so that they could decide between living spaces -- and Ren blinks abruptly, hand smoothing over Mona's collar.

"Oh." He says, and Arsene turns around in confusion. "Sorry, it's just -- this is all strangely... domestic, considering we're in the middle of a- zombie apocalypse."

They're both silent for a moment. "...we're out of mortal danger -- sure, we've not made it to Tokyo, and I don't know when we'll make it there, but we're as safe as we can be for only being a team of two, and we've found a place to sleep, have access to warm water and to gas for cooking, and there's a kiosk here and a seven-eleven three streets past, and we can always go hunting because we're near the edge of the city. So we're also pretty good on that front... it's just strange, isn't it?"

"I think," Arsene starts, delicately, "I think we deserve some down-time. Ever since the cataclysm has happened, we've been relentless in our goals to reach Tokyo, and we've not really had time to really grieve... or do anything but compartmentalize. I know that thou're worried about the others, but I think thou also-- need this. We need this," he amends, and Ren stares at him, before lowering his lashes and breathing softly.

"You're probably right. Okay. Let's choose a room and then clean up the lobby, yeah?"

Mh.

They ended up choosing one of the traditional-style rooms on the second-highest floor, with a view of the city and the nearby river and forest from their balcony; the room was on the corner, so the balcony wound around in an L shape, a surprisingly big thing. If they secured wires around it, they might even use it. There was a rectangular living room with low seats and a kotatsu and some storage space, a small tv in the corner. A sliding screen door was separating it from the humble kitchenette. Another sliding door lead to the small bedroom, two futons on raised frames and a drawer, and the only western door connected to the bathroom, consisting of a shower, sink and toilet. Ren knew from past experiences that the shower would be unusable, but the toilet could be used as long as they kept refilling the water tank after each time. He stares at it. Note to self: we need buckets of water. A lot of buckets. I think that should be our first priority, right after we clean everything out.

Also more gas tanks -- but I can ransack the first few from the other rooms. Arsene adds, amused. We'll need water in the kitchen, too. Maybe use the balcony to store it? And we have to explore the hotel before starting any renovating, I don't trust it to not have surprises in store.

Yeah, that too.

(Two days later, Ren glances around their new home, taking in the citrus scent of the air fresheners Arsene had hung up everywhere. They'd cleaned their room of dust and the lobby of blood, methodically went through each of the rooms and locked the ones with the dead while marking the ones that were empty. They checked out the working spaces as well, locked any doors to dangerous-looking equipment. A stack of candles has been squirrelled away, as well as any spare batteries and flashlights they could find -- a few baby lamps, too, until their room had sufficient light even in the dark and with the curtains drawn tight to not attract any attention. Any pots and pans have been taken for water storage as well. A trip to the supermarket had them stock up on basic necessities like shampoo and toilet paper and medicine for the little cabinet, and Ren found a handwashing machine and water tank and took that with them as well. Arsene acquired chicken wire and a toolbox, and the second evening in the hotel was spent hammering down the wire onto their balcony to protect them at least somewhat from flying mutated. Their things were stored in the drawers and cupboards, and Ren had pushed the beds together the first night, was now standing in the living room in sweats and pink fuzzy slippers the hotel provided. He had put Morgana's yellow collar on top of the drawer with two candles.

It felt like the first time since Mona's death that Ren could take a deep breath and really hope for the future.)

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#persona 5 #ren amamiya #arsene #my writing #p5 #ren x arsene #The Road Home #look #a reprieve from the chaos and stress!

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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Favouritism Headcanons | Dragon Cookies

requested by anon

reader is assumed as gender neutral and as the dragon cookies’ spouse

Ananas Dragon Cookie

being ananas dragon’s partner means that you’re going to be bragged to and about at every given opportunity - i mean, you are their partner so you signed up for this treatment in their eyes.

expects their followers to worship you as well as them - as their partner and equal, in their eyes, they should revere you for your superiority over them just as they do them

brags a lot more in your presence, emphasising their strength and prowess to impress you and earn your reverence

has their followers build a shrine dedicated to the two of you - one that emphasises your beauty, strength and devotion to them

will brag about you to the other dragons on the rare occasion that they meet; all smug smirks and long winding stories about how amazing of a partner you are to them

covers you in gold and jewels to show others that you’re taken and have a powerful spouse beside you - avoiding unnecessary confrontation and allowing them to spend as much time as possible being worshipped and revered by lesser beings

makes sure that you know that you’re superior to others of your kind however they can

Lotus Dragon Cookie

lotus dragon is a very calm and perceptive lover who will make use of their status and reputation to give you whatever you want, always answering with a smile and nod before calling on their servants.

insists on hydrangea and her fellow servants waiting on you hand and foot, pampering you at any given opportunity and discouraging them from denying any request from you

spoils you with the finest of luxuries one can afford: jewellery, lingerie, clothes, accessories and more

never leaves your side, having you lounge with them in their palace; constantly on display like a show pony or trophy spouse

they’re most often seen laying on their side with you beside them, their arms around you and their lips pressed gently against your temple

has art and stories made to emphasise your talents and beauty - commemorating you in the eyes of their servants and those under their control

constantly praises you and encourages you to pursue your talents

knows your dreams and emotions like the back of their hand and is extremely good at comforting you however you need them to

calls you their “beloved” and their “darling”, rarely ever using your name as you’re “above such mortal things now”

Lychee Dragon Cookie

lychee is very open about their fondness for you and will gladly brag about their relationship with you to anyone in reach - even doing so when using the “mangosteen cookie” identity by constantly calling back to their “dearest love” with a sickening sweetness that those around them found endearing.

has the monsters tend to and protect you, keeping you under constant surveillance to ensure your safety (and that you don’t leave them)

doesn’t let any of the “lower beings” near you and almost views them as a disease on the island that they’re protecting you from - talking them down whilst praising you to the heavens

very affectionate with you and can’t seem to keep their hands off of you in private/anywhere that people that they don’t want to see can’t

keeps you in their cave away from the rest of the island, in a lush room built especially to your tastes (the safest area of the cave by a long shot)

does have a habit of guilt tripping you if they feel your relationship is threatened, exaggerating their innocence and upset to keep you with them - though they’d never outright use their powers on you unless they were truly desperate

has murals and statues made in your honour so that they can have part of you with them after you’re gone

can be very dramatic and even manic, but you calm them down - so they can be very reliant on you at times

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

pitaya is an incredibly prideful spouse who will treat you like a god amongst men, coveting you like you’re a precious treasure and yet expecting all cookies to worship you as they did them.

very warm, even compared to their fellow dragons, and will hold you close whenever you feel cold or if heat soothes your pains

always has a hand on you, keeping you flush against their body so you know they’re there and will protect you - their grip getting harsher if there’s another cookie nearby

carries you when they fly and enjoys showing you the world - telling you that you’re above it all now, that you deserve it all and more

purrs when you touch or play with their hair but if anyone else gets close to them, they’ll lash out at them violently

has you sleep on their chest so they can protect you even in their sleep

sees you as their most valuable treasure and tells you as such often

doesn’t brag about you per-say, but anyone that sees you will know who you belong to because they have you wear their colours and the treasures they’ve collected

will ask for your input on any of their schemes, valuing your input above even their own at times - but will violently shut down anyone else that tries to interject into your conversation

openly territorial over you as their “dear mortal”

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ickaimp · 4 years ago

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[HTTYD] Break your heart, steal your crown

Sometimes ya just gotta write angst. Lotta people liked Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, my version of the ‘Hiccup runs away and becomes the “Dragon Master”, Astrid’s offered up as a Sacrifice years later’ tropes without Hiccup being a dick, and there were requests for sequels, which I didn’t do because this was all I had. Two years post Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, 4220 words, angst and some fluff.

"Berk is dying."

The words sat heavily in the air of the smithy, lingering like a spectre between Stoick and Gobber.

Stoick almost wished he could take the words back, but that wouldn't change the accuracy of his words. Berk was dying.

Gobber closed his eyes and sighed, giving him a weary nod of agreement. So he had seen it too. Or more likely, he had seen it in Gothi's last roll of the bones, before she had gone to bed and passed away in her sleep, leaving the fortune out for Gobber to read when he found her body this morning.

He hadn't actually told Stoick what the bones had said, giving him the same world-weary look he was currently wearing instead.

Even without the soothsayer's predictions, Stoick could see it. The twins had left years ago, declaring that the isle was too boring for their pranks, setting sail with only a chicken as their companion. It had seemed like a blessing at the time, less things exploding in their wake, leaving Berk a much quieter place than it had been.

Then came Spitelout's stupidity with Astrid, offering her to the savage Dragon Master. They'd gotten her back, only for her to disappear a week later. She'd left a note that this time was by her choice, but it'd been little comfort.

This left Berk's next generation without any women old enough to be wives. To become mothers to bear future generations.

With the Jorgenson clan name soiled by Spitelout's actions, Snotlout was no longer able to be Stoick's heir. The other clans would never treaty with someone whose family had literally brought the Dragon Master down on their heads during a meeting of the chiefs. Except for maybe Dagur, and that was not a glowing recommendation, given the Berserker's... instability.

Which left Fishlegs as the only remaining of Berk's next generation to lead. The lad was smart, there was no doubt about it, and he would be fantastic as a second in command, the next Chief's Gobber, he was too quiet and soft to be a leader. The politics would eat him alive. And worse, Fishlegs was aware of this.

There were other children, Gustav and his ilk, but they were too young to start training as the next Chief of Berk. Stoick ran a hand down his beard, more grey than red from the stress and sorrow. He didn't have long enough to train one of them up.

And Berk's numbers were dwindling in other ways. Many had not been able to adapt to life without dragons to fight, finding a peaceful life did not sit well with their warrior blood. They'd left, being adopted into other clans. They'd just lost another family that way today. Stoick wished them no ill will, but if this continued, then they'd find their numbers too small to maintain the community.

Even Gobber was growing bored, not having enough work to keep the blacksmith busy. Without the dragons, there was no need for weapons, and the simple farming tools they had didn't need as much maintenance. Stoick looked around the smithy, his eyes falling on the curtain leading to a small room that Gobber wouldn't allow anyone into, his own private shrine to his missing godson.

And then there was the loss of Hiccup, the first of Berk's children to leave. The Dragon Master's words, that Hiccup was happy and healthy where he was, was little comfort without being able to verify this. There was little Stoick wouldn't do in order to be able to see his boy again, for even just a moment. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t his fault. The path had seemed clear when they were constantly being raided by dragons. But without the raids, he was floundering. His people were looking to him for direction, and he had no experience with peace to know what to do. More and more they seemed to realise this, and left. Seven generations of vikings had lived on this isle, going all the way back to the first chieftain, his many times great-grandfather, and it was starting to look like he’d be Berk’s last chief.

"I wish I had some words of wisdom for ye, my friend." Gobber said softly. "I-"

Stoick jumped as something flew in through the window and landed on Gobber's face.

It was a green and brown Terrible Terror, who was making a high pitched growling sound as he crawled all over Gobber's head. "Don't move." Stoick rumbled, reaching for his sword.

"Ach." Gobber made a sound of annoyance, reaching up and grabbing the Terrible Terror by the scruff of its neck, pulling it off his head. "What're you-"

He trailed off, eyes drifting upwards and Stoick realised that it was the sound of a larger dragon's wings flapping. A Deadly Nadder, unless he missed his guess. Stoick gritted his teeth, feeling fire in his veins again, eager to have something to fight again, to take this rage and frustration out on.

"Oh no." Gobber said, a look of horror crossing his face as he glanced at Stoick. That was all the warning Stoick found himself being spun, his arms being bound behind his back with a pair of iron manacles, and he was flung through the curtain into Hiccup's old room. He landed against something softer than he expected, falling to the ground.

"GRUMP!" Gobber commanded, sticking his head through the curtain and pointing to Stoick. "Sit."

With a complaining groan, something large and heavy pressed down on Stoick. He grunted, trying to push himself up with his shoulders, but the weight was too much for him to get leverage.

"I didnae want you to find out like this." Gobber said, sounding apologetic, the Terrible Terror riding on his shoulder as if this was a common occurrence. "But if you value yer son's life at all, do not make a sound."

Stoick opened his mouth to bellow, only to find a rag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He growled, ire filling his veins as Gobber turned away, pulling the curtain shut. The torn fabric didn't go all the way to the ground, leaving Stoick with a clear view of the smithy.

When he got free, and got his hands on Gobber...

A blue and gold Deadly Nadder head stuck it's head into the doorway of the smithy, then carefully stepped in, taking care not to bump into anything in the small building. A crowned pale spectre rode on it's back, white and grey wisps obscuring the figure.

"Gobber!" The spectre greeted the smith with a cheerful voice. The spectre raised an arm, throwing what looked like a bridal veil over their crown, revealing inhuman features covered in glittering blue scales.

"Is good to see you, lassie." Gobber returned the greeting, his voice rolling with affection. The spectre laughed, reaching up for their head and pulling it off-

-Revealing Astrid's smiling face.

Stoick stopped fighting, going lax in surprise. It had been almost two years since he'd last seen Astrid, grim faced and bitter before she disappeared. She seemed to practically glow with happiness now, as she slid off the Deadly Nadder's back, giving a little hop before leaping into Gobber's outstretched arms, giving him a tight hug.

"Good to see you too." Astrid declared, holding him out at arm's length. Stoick could see that she was wearing armour now, covered in scales that matched the Nadder she rode. She wore a skirt, cape, and veil made out of ragged strips of a thin sheer white fabric that seemed to dance in the air when she moved.

The Undead Bride of the Demon was Astrid. Stoick recognised the Nadder now, it was the same one that she'd flown when the Dragon Master had kidnapped Stoick from the Althing.

"What brings ye here?" Gobber asked jovially, the merriment sounding slightly forced. "Not that I'm complaining, but was nae expecting t’see you for another week or two."

A stab of betrayal felt like a knife between his ribs.

"We have news." Astrid bounced and gave a little hip wiggle of delight. It was a gleeful carefree movement that Stoick didn't think he'd ever seen from the usually tacturn lass.

"Hey, wait. No fair." A shadow at the doorway protested, and Stoick found himself growling as he recognized the outline of the Dragon Master and his demonic Night Fury. The Dragon Master swung a leg over his so-called brother's neck, standing upright on his cloven foot and moving towards them. "I wanted to see Gobber's face when you tell."

"Not my fault that you're being slow, my sweet husband." Astrid grinned, giving another skip-hop to give a little kiss to the side of the Dragon Master's scaled helm and Stoick growled, wiggling as he trying to get free, but the weight on top of him didn’t budge.

"Wait a moment." Gobber breathed. "Astrid... Your belly... You cannot mean..." He trailed off, too choked up to speak.

Looking at her in silhouette, he could see what Gobber meant. Astrid's previously flat stomach was curved out in a very distinctive solid roundness.

Astrid was pregnant. And from the casual arm around her shoulders that the Dragon master had around her waist, the babe in her belly was that demon's.

Stoick would kill him. He'd kill him for touching Astrid. He'd rip the foul creature limb from limb, and then he'd get rid of that Night Fury who was sniffing around the room-

All thoughts faded from his mind as the Dragon Master took off his helmet, revealing his face for the first time, and Stoick's breath caught in his throat.

It couldn't be.

The messy brown hair, almost reddish in the candlelight. Green eyes. The fond crooked grin on his narrow face, having finally grown into his ears.

"Hiccup." Gobber said, his voice thick with tears. "Astrid. You've got a wee bairn on the way."

His son. That was his son standing there with an arm around Astrid, the two of them shining with happiness.

His son, the Dragon Master.

"I'm about five months along." Astrid beamed at Gobber, resting comfortably against Hiccup, the two fitting together like matching puzzle pieces.

"We were hoping you'd agree to be the Godfather." Hiccup said, and Stoick didn't know how he hadn't heard it before, in the Dragon Master's dry sarcasm. It was his son's voice, a little deeper than as a teenager, but the nasally tones could only be him.

"Godfather-?" Gobber echoed in awe.

"It's not dependent on if you take up our offer to live with us." Astrid was quick to assure him. "But we'd like you to be. We wouldn't be having a kid if it wasn't for you."

"You got Astrid out of Berk, and you saved my life by taking me under your wing here." Hiccup said sincerely. "We're also open to them calling you 'Grandpa', if that's okay with you."

Grandpa.

Stoick was a Grandfather.

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes. He'd never thought he'd have that chance, not after his son went missing. And here his son was, was, healthy, happy, and with a wee one on the way.

"Och." Gobber shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You can." Astrid grinned, reaching out and taking Gobber's hand in hers, scales and claws curling delicately around calloused scarred skin. "We talked to Valka about it. She laughed and said she's fine with it. Someone else to share the responsibility of dirty diapers."

The tears spilled over his cheeks. Valka, his dear sweet Valka was alive as well.

He remembered now, the Dragon Master saying that he had his mother's eyes, and he did. Skies above, he did. Hiccup had always had Valka's clear eyes that seemed to penetrate and see more than anyone else.

"I mean, you did more to raise me than my own father did. It's only fair." Hiccup added without any trace of bitterness as he gestured around the smithy. "All of my fondest memories of Berk are here."

Stoick's breath caught, feeling as if a sword had just been thrust through his chest.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you." Gobber shook his head dismissively. "Otherwise some dragon would have flown away with your toothpick self."

The Night Fury, who had been circling around in the background, stuck it's muzzle under the curtain. The beast sniffed the air for a moment before poking its head all the way into the small room, it's acid green eyes narrowed into slits as it stared at him, a low warning rumble coming from its throat, lips curling back to show a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth.

Stoick stared back, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he currently was. The creature could bite off his head in one bite, and there was no way for Stoick to protect himself.

"Oh nooooo. How terrible." Hiccup deadpanned in the background as Astrid laughed. "Carried away by draaagons."

The great weight on top of Stoick shifted and grunted, and he realised that it was a giant heavy dragon that was currently sitting on his back. The Night Fury crooned what sounded like a question to the creature pinning him down, getting a snore-like rumble in return.

The Night Fury glanced back down at Stoick, giving him a look that could only be described as 'scornful' before turning away with a smug expression and trotting back over to his son. Stoick watched as the beast gave an amused warbling at his son, casually headbutting Hiccup, sending him into Astrid, who took a half step to keep them all upright.

"Oh!" She gasped, then took Gobber's hand that she was still holding and pressing it against her belly.

"They're moving!" Gobber gasped. "Oh, they're a fighter, just like their parents."

Stoick's breath caught again. His grandchild. His grandchild was moving.

"The only thing that really settles them down is when the dragons sing to them." Astrid looked amused. "Even if the dragons are confused as to why I haven't laid an egg yet."

The Night Fury gave Stoick a pointed look, then nudged Astrid's belly with it's broad flat nose, giving a soft affection croon, as if to point out that the creature could touch the babe in Astrid’s belly, but Stoick could not. Stoick choked on the gag in his mouth, silently swearing vengeance.

"Which is part of the reason why we stopped by early." Astrid said gravely, and Stoick wondered how much more news he could take tonight.

"Valka says I'm probably fine for flying up until I give birth." Astrid said, wrapping a protective arm around her belly. "But we decided that fighting is out until afterwards. So it may be awhile before I'm back in the area."

"Trapper tried to kick her in the stomach." Hiccup growled, and all three dragons in the room echoed the sound, even the Terrible Terror on Gobber's shoulder. The sound covered up Stoick's own noise of outrage at such an act. "Stormfly stopped them, but it gave us all a bit of a scare."

Astrid nodded, leaning against Hiccup, who looked a little anxious, rubbing his hand up and down the blue scales of her arm. "I can still do air support, but the pregnancy is making me exhausted lately. Which is probably only going to get worse." Astrid looked annoyed. "So we're all going to be staying with Valka at least until I give birth."

"It's not like the Hidden World really needs Toothless and I to guard it." Hiccup said with wiry humour. Stoick blinked, finding he had no more room for shock. Of course Hiccup found the home of the dragons. Of course he had. "But if you did decide to accept our offer to live with us, we didn't want you looking in the wrong place and thinking the worst."

"And Valka promises not to cook in your honour when you do show up." Astrid smirked. And Stoick nearly choked on muffled laughter, aware he was crying again. Valka had never been the best cook, but she tried. And it'd been worth every burnt and raw bite he'd choked down.

"Thank you." Gobber's voice was thick. "But I cannae leave just yet. Your Father needs..."

"I know." Hiccup hastened to assure. He stepped forward, wrapping a clawed hand around the back of Gobber's head, resting his forehead against the blacksmith's. "When you're ready, we'll be there. Even if you're never ready, we just want to make sure you know that there is a place for you."

"You just don't want to be the only one with experience making protestetics." Gobber grumbled, and Hiccup laughed, tapping his cloven foot on the ground, making a ringing sound.

Hiccup's prosthetic foot, Stoick realised, watching the spring inside the metal contraption flex. His son was missing a foot.

And Stoick had no idea when or how it happened.

"You caught me." Hiccup didn't sound angry about it as he released Gobber, more jovial than anything. "But it doesn't make it less true."

"I'll think about it." Gobber promised with the air of having said the same thing many times before, taking the Terrible Terror off his shoulder and transferring it to Hiccup's.

"And I'll teach you how to make Dragon Iron when you do." Hiccup said with a grin, his voice both teasing and cajoling.

Dragon Iron, which the Dragon Master was the only one who knew how to make. Because Hiccup had been a smith since he was six years old, put under Gobber's eye to keep him out of trouble.

"Stop trying to bribe me, you brat." Gobber cuffed him upside the back of his head with a grin. Both Hiccup and Astrid laughed, even if the Night Fury gave Gobber a glare. "Now g'wan. Get out of here before you're seen."

"Yeah, yeah." Astrid rolled her eyes and stood up on her toes to give Gobber a quick fond kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you later, one way or another." She informed him matter of factly before putting her helmet back on and climbing on top of her dragon, settling the veil around her shoulders.

"Take care of yourself." Hiccup clasped Gobber's hand, then pulled the larger smith in for a back thumping hug before releasing him. "And say ‘hi’ to Grump for me, wherever he's snoozing at."

"Will do." Gobber agreed blithely. "Stay safe, all of you."

The Night Fury let out a warble as if to say that it was his job to keep them all safe as Hiccup fastened the helmet back on his head, transforming back to the Dragon Master. The beast gave Stoick one last pointed look as Hiccup climbed in it's back, before turning and heading out of the smithy, both the dragons and their riders losing their relaxed easy going postures.

Astrid followed a few heartbeats later, following Hiccup's soft whistle. There was the sound of wingbeats, and then they were gone.

Leaving the smithy empty aside from Gobber and Stoick. It was with a sinking realisation that he realised he probably wouldn’t get another chance to ever see Hiccup again.

The Dragon Master was essentially Chieftain to the dragons, a role that clearly kept him busy and constantly travelling all over the archipelago and beyond. Stoick knew first hand how busy having a newborn kept one as well. It would be months, if not another year before Hiccup would free to visit Berk. And there would be no way for Stoick to know where or when.

Gobber gave a great big heaving sigh before turning back towards Stoick, his peg leg sounding loud against the ground. Gobber moved the curtain aside, and then knelt down, removing the gag from Stoick's mouth.

"I'm sorry y'had to find out this way." Gobber said softly, and the thing that hurt the most is that he could feel how sincerely his oldest friend meant it.

"How long?" Stoick asked, ignoring the way his voice broke.

Gobber gave a thoughtful hum, reaching up and petting the dragon on top of him. "Almost two years now." He finally said. "I recognized Hiccup's work on the blade the Dragon Master gave Astrid when he returned ya both here. Astrid had suspected as much, it just confirmed it for her."

He'd travelled with his son for an entire day, and Stoick hadn't a clue it was him.

Stoick, who had sworn that he'd be able to recognize his son anywhere, any time, in any place.

Horror went down his spine as he remembered the accusations he'd hurled at the Dragon Master after the dragon had crashed into their camp. Threatening to kill the Dragon Master in order to find his son.

His son, who had been right there. Who had told him while hidden behind a mask, that Hiccup was alive, healthy and happy where he was, far away from Berk.

Away from Stoick.

"About a month after Astrid left, she stopped by for a visit, ta let me know she was fine." Gobber continued, nudging the dragon off of Stoick. The giant creature grumbled as it slowly obeyed, leaving Stoick still shackled and on the ground. "The next visit, she brought Hiccup, and we cried together for nearly an hour."

Gobber paused, checking his pockets for his keys, then started to work on the manacles around Stoick's arms. Stoick had broken through stronger bonds before, but he didn't have the energy in him now.

"They stop by every every other month or so to check in on me, let me know how they're doing, or send a Terrible Terror with a letter." Gobber continued quietly. "Valka's been by once as well, weren't real comfortable here and left just as quick. Too many memories of blood shed."

The manacles released with a click, and Stoick slowly moved his arms, his shoulders protesting having been twisted in such a position. He carefully sat up, turning to face the monster that had been on his back.

And found himself looking at the least dangerous dragon he'd ever set eyes upon, for all its enormous size. It was large enough that it had probably only been it's head that had been resting on Stoick's back, and looked like it was already asleep with its eyes half open.

And it looked like a giant turd. Large, brown, and lumpy.

"This magnificent fellow is Grump." Gobber motioned to the sleepy dragon, with a fond expression. "They left him with me for back up, and so I have a way to meet up with them some time. He's been running the forge fires for me. Never realised how helpful having a dragon in the smithy could be before Hiccup mentioned it, even if the great lump sleeps most of the time."

Grump slowly turned an eye in Gobber's direction, thick club of a tail bouncing a few times as if realising that they were talking about him. He briefly wondered how many months the dragon had been sleeping here and no one had even suspected.

Stoick felt as if everything he had believed in had suddenly been turned upside down and shaken about. Dragons possibly weren't evil. His son was alive. He had a grandchild on the way. Hiccup was the Dragon Master.

"Is he happy?" Stoick asked, mindful of the tears still on his cheeks. "Hiccup?"

Gobber thought it over. "Aye." He finally said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "The lad weren't never made for being a Viking. Living amongst the dragons brings him not only comfort, but joy. Astrid and Valka too. Once you've earned a dragon's loyalty, there ain't much that can break it. And the three of them fit among them like they were born for it."

Stoick nodded. "And you?"

"Me?" Gobber looked surprised at the question.

"Will you be joining them?" He had the invitation and the dragon.

Gobber hesitated, looking at the slumbering dragon. "I'd like to." He finally admitted. "Some day. But not any time soon."

Because he was staying here, for Stoick's sake. He'd told Hiccup that clearly enough.

Gobber was his oldest and dearest friend, loyal to a fault, and Stoick couldn't blame him for keeping HIccup's secrets. Not when Stoick's reaction to meeting the Dragon Master hadn’t been nearly so generous, even as he realised that the Dragon Master was only trying to help in his own way.

"You should join them." Stoick said, rising to his feet. Gobber looked like he wanted to protest, and Stoick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "When you're ready."

Gobber closed his mouth and nodded. Stoick nodded back, then walked out of the smithy. The cold air hit the tear tracks on his cheeks, and he ignored it, trudging up the hill to his cold empty hut.

He had gotten his wish, to know that his son was not only alive, but thriving. Astrid too. And Valka as well, his wife living amongst dragons for nearly two decades now. He was so elated to know that they weren’t dead.

Stoick wouldn't trade that knowledge for anything, not even with the understanding that the reason for their happiness was that they were living their lives far away from him.

-fin- (no, there are no plans for anything further in this au, but if it sparks something in you, feel free to play.)

#HTTYD #how to train your dragon #stoick the vast #gobber the belch #astrid hofferson #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #toothless #icka fic

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asmolemmeeatyouout · 4 years ago

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The boys with Autistic! MC! part two ! SFW

(Bc I’m self indulgent and like 5 ppl wanted it so yesyesyes)

(Had my first proper spoonie day in a while today so imma finish this after what 4 months? Whoopsie. Sorry if any of the points overlap I’ve not re read my last post, please shoot me an ask if you want anything clarified/expanded on !)

Lucifer:

Has to stop his brothers from constantly bothering you when you’re overwhelmed (they’re just worried)

You very quickly learn his office is the safest place to be when overwhelmed due to the dim lighting and the brother deterring curse on his doorway

He has a record player and SO much classical music for when you need background noise

This leads to impromptu slow dancing when you insist he needs a break and there’s music playing

If you have your own records, the *smoother ones will end up mixed in with his

*smoother as in less staccato /distracting because he is most likely working

Very much enjoys spending time in silence with you, he finds it comfortng to just exist with someone without having anything needed of him

Especially if you’re both doing your own thing, like you just being in the room with him (playing a game or reading or smthn) while he does his paperwork is so soothing to him

Mammon:

Have you seen his horns? They’re so smooth and shinyyy, a+++ stimming material

He loves head pats so he’ll willingly put his head in your lap when you watch movies

he’s very proud of his demon form but also kind of shy so it’ll take some coaxing to get him to let you touch his horns but when he sees how content it makes you? It’s his new favourite hobby letting you play with his hair and horns during movies

(That said they’re very sensitive (like him) so be gentle)

He WILL adopt your love language and mannerisms:

if you bump people he will start knocking into you constantly, (wrists, hips, shoulders, head, any and all on random repeat)

if you like to collect and give things to people he will a. Hoard them in a little shrine (that he Denys. having) and b. Start looking for things he can give you back

If you rub textures you like you’ll find him stroking your arms/face/jumper right back (sometimes with his face, but only ever in private because he feels vulnerable using such a soft form of affection)

Levithian:

You cannot tell me this man isn’t autistic

Communication is SO! EASY!

Then even If you don’t understand you can just ask. You can just ask and he’ll tell you. None of this ‘figure it out yourself’ nt bullshit

Our baby has anxiety anyway so he’s probably ‘over’ explained it before you can say anything

(Over explained in the sense of nt, personally I love it when ppl get really detailed)

In that case he gets embarrassed about how much he’s talking so it’s your turn to reassure him that he’s not boring you

The solace you get in realising you like all of his autistic traits soothes your own insecurities

That being said your anxiety (if you have it) is matchy matchy so don’t expect him to talk to the cashier for you

He’s very chill with you being non verbal because either he’s absorbed in his own game/anime/show or it means there’s more room for him to talk about his interests

That being said if your special interests/ hyperfixations don’t line up on any given day? The bickering over who’s turn it is to infodump gets intense (this is the one source of all your arguments)

All the other brothers are kind of terrified/jealous of your relationship, especially when they see you talking about a shared special interest because you talk rapid fire and very in-depth. to them it’s almost like you’re talking in code or another language because they know all the individual words but what the everloving fuck are you on about

Asmodeus:

Has specific outfits he wears when he wants you to hug him (which is always). They’re made out of the softest material, or any clothing of his you’ve expressed a texture interest in.

Finds it so amusing when you come rushing over to rub your face against his chest bc mmmmm softsoftsoft

Likes to text you in the morning to see how you’re feeling (and how sensory sensitive you are because god forbid his outfit with chains and jangles stops him from seeing you)

Understands better than Anyone that affection and love can be shown in a whole barrage of ways not just physically

Figures out how you show affection faster than any of the other brothers

Immediately starts reciprocating it (partly bc he’s selfishly trying to make you love him most)

Satan:

Will learn about your special interests so he can engage you on the topic

Is the ONLY person in the house you can talk about any special interest with, no matter how niche because he loves learning (although he does prefer the *academic* side of them rather than pop culture but he will listen to both)

*academic* as in something involving learning about something or crafting or *how* to do something, not just like, maths

You’re pretty much the only person who can keep up with him in terms of knowledge and enthusiasm (even if it’s only for very specific things) and thus you become the person he talks to about his interests

Originally kind of annoyed by how absentminded you are (because you forget several dates) but once you get settled into a routine he starts to find it cute how habitual you are, and then realises it could work to his advantage.

He then schedules a date into your weekly routine (or biweekly depending on your energy levels) so you start to get upset if it’s missed bc it’s part of your routine. (Satan is ridiculously smart and is very much willing to manipulate your routine to his (and yours) advantage, he is a demon after all)

Beelzebub:

Gives the best squishes. He’s just so big he can literally envelope you (in other news he is terrified of hurting you so he’s very nervous at first, he’s used to huggin ppl very gently bc he is a muscle mountain)

Maybe don’t use chew stims around him (unless he’s eating) because seeing you use them will either make him hungry, or he’ll ask to see it and oops it’s been swallowed hope you didn’t want that back (he’s very apologetic he really didn’t mean to but it was in his mouth and chewed before he could think)

Literally the kindest man in the universe, if you have issues with shame or *guilt* (especially if it creeps outta nowhere or it relates to not being able to do something) he will a. Reassure you and give you cuddles until you feel okay (or one on one bonding time if you’re too touch sensitive) then b. Go help with whatever task was too much so you don’t have to worry

Belphagor:

Have I mentioned the stuffies? This boy definitely has a stash of soft toys that all have names and personalities. This originally stemmed from the fact he was locked alone in an attic for a year, he needed some form of company or he was gonna go crazy, and sleeping alone is meh in his opinion. But then he became attached and after you showed him yours? And you weren’t ashamed of your teddy bears or how much you loved them he confided in you about his. (And you had a tea party)

Problems sleeping ? (Me too bud it’s 3.44 am lol) nonononno baby boy has got you, just snuggle up to him and you’ll be snoozing in no time (I HC that being around belphagor just makes you a little sleepy and the longer you’re there the stronger the urge to sleep gets)

You’re at rad (or out in public and can’t leave) and get overstimmed? Belphie has got you! He keeps sunglasses on him so he can secretly sleep when he’s not supposed to. Also (imo) he’s the king of hoodies, both his main outfits have a hood (and you can’t convince me he doesn’t wear one of them over his uniform as soon as lucifer dips), my boy will slip his hoodie on you and wrap you in a hug to get you away from the noise/sights

(I am now too tired to write anymore, hope yall enjoyed!)

#obey me #obey me hcs #obey me autistic mc #autistic mc #mammon hc #belphagor hc #lucifer hc #asmodeus hc #satan HC #beelezebub hc #leviathan hc

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years ago

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Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

#night manager jed #elizabeth debicki #liz debicki #elizabeth debicki avatars #vita & virginia #elizabeth debicki imagine #elizabeth debicki fanfic #elizabeth debicki x reader #elizabeth debicki smut #elizabeth debicki fluff #elizabeth debicki angst #elizabeth debicki x you #elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston #wlw imagine

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justafewsmallsteps · 5 years ago

Photo

Okay, with the new series announcement, I’ve finally been inspired to finish off this artwork and story that I’ve been sitting on for years. Call it a goodbye to my headcanon kids because now we have the real deal!!!

Title: The Golden Girl

Word Count:

3576

Rating

: G+

Let it be known that Mizuki adored her father. Anyone could tell by the way she followed him around and tried to copy his actions.

She had his temperament and lack of patience, but in a cuter way (for now). Her big, shiny, golden eyes were just like his, and the black ears atop her head swiveled around just as his did. She loved it. She loved being just like him in every way she could; going around picking up big sticks to swing like her own Tessaiga.

She looked up to him so much, it made Inuyasha’s heart ache. It did come with some new, dangerous territory though. For instance, he had one hell of a time trying to watch his vocabulary once Mizuki started speaking. He’d never forget the dagger of a glare that Kagome sent his way when their daughter babbled her first, “Damet” after dropping her snack. He thought he would be skinned on the spot.

“She’s going to copy anything you do, so you have to be more careful!” Kagome chastised.

“Why me?” Inuyasha asked in a grumbled whine. “She should be looking up to you! You’re her mother, ain’t ya?”

Kagome frowned. “Mizuki thinks the world of you.” Her expression softened. “That’s what daughters do when they love their dad.”

A pang of guilt seized his chest. In flashes he remembered another time and place, photographs and a stick of incense at the shrine tucked away in a private room; a young man with Kagome’s eyes. It was something that she didn’t talk about often, but her father’s loss still shook her sometimes. He took in Kagome’s glassy eyes and the pink flooding her nose. He reached around to hold his wife in his arms. “Okay,” Inuyasha mumbled as he kissed the top of her head. “You win. I’ll watch out.”

So he proceeded with caution, tried to hold his tongue from cursing, and he did his damn best to be more patient than he’d ever thought possible. All for their family, for his wife, for his daughter.

He never thought of himself as a role model.

He used to think he was a freak.

But then Kagome came around, and then he had friends. He found a place in the world that accepted him as he was, and he held onto her with a fierce protectiveness. He even let her go once and was forced to find peace within loneliness. He did it for her, because even if he never saw her again, he’d love her. He’d live for her even without her there.

But then by some miracle Kagome came back. The world was right. He belonged, they got married, and they were a family all on their own. He didn’t think life could get better honestly. Then they had their first kid. When Mizuki was born, Inuyasha was sure that he’d never seen anything more precious in his life. He loved the dark ears atop her raven-haired head, and he nearly melted the first time she opened her honey-colored eyes. She was an existence made up of his and Kagome’s love.

He wished she didn’t take so much after him though. She was just shy of passing for normal…

“So beautiful,” Kagome had whispered, instantly washing away his fears and doubts. “Just like her dad.”

Beautiful, huh? He hoped that someone would love his daughter like Kagome loved him. He also hoped that day was very far away, he thought warily. For now, he would make sure that his kid felt good about herself. He would never let Mizuki think of herself as a monster or a weirdo. He’d do his damnedest to build her confidence and surround her with love.

And it worked out pretty well. Maybe too well if her ego was anything like his own.

Mizuki really did love everything she had in common with her father. When they both heard a sound and turned the same way, she’d puff up with pride. “Mizuki hears it too!” she’d exclaim gleefully, making a point to wiggle her ears.

It always made him grin.

He never thought there could be a downside to her adoration. She loved him, she loved herself; everything was good.

Then Shouya was born.

Shouya, his son, who did not have his ears or his eyes. He actually looked a lot like Kagome, Inuyasha thought fondly. He had his mother’s nose, her human ears, even her adorable puffy cheeks. The one thing that made Shouya anything like Inuyasha was his distinctly silver colored hair. Yet somehow, despite being almost the opposite of his daughter, he was equally as perfect. Inuyasha had thought it was impossible to love anyone more than Kagome, and then Mizuki, and yet somehow his capacity for love simply grew as soon as he witnessed his son.

And when Mizuki, at just five years old, laid her pretty, amber eyes on her brother... she burst into tears! Kagome was still bedridden and recovering, so Inuyasha flew into action. He tried to calm her down but she was inconsolable, and her crying triggered Shouya to follow.

With two wailing children, Inuyasha and Kagome were immediately set to high stress mode. It was not the cute first meeting between new siblings that they had anticipated, dreamt about, planned for when Kagome was still waddling around as she told Mizuki all about being a big sister.

Instead she cried. A lot. Loudly.

Inuyasha had to pick up his distraught daughter and take her outside.

“Kiddo, what’s wrong?” He asked, shifting her a little in his arms.

Mizuki rubbed at the tears on her face and clutched to her father’s shoulders. Unable to form words past her sobs, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged, but Inuyasha didn’t pay any attention to the pain. Instead he did his best to soothe her, patting her back until she was reduced to hiccups. That night she cried and sniffled herself to sleep, leaving two very anxious parents. Thankfully Shouya slept soundly.

It took a week of grouchiness and tantrums before anything productive happened. Inuyasha whined to his recovering wife about his daughter’s poor attitude and lack of communication. Kagome simply laughed at him. “Now you know what it’s like dealing with you.”

Indignant, he scowled, “She’s a child!”

“At least she has an excuse,” Kagome retorted cutely.

Inuyasha would’ve been more upset, but having her humor back was a relief to him. She’d been exhausted and bedrested for the end of her pregnancy. Kaede had assured him that she’d be fine, but it still made him anxious to see her so putout. Shouya came out a fat, healthy baby, but even then Kagome didn’t get much time to relax. The newborn was up at odd hours and constantly hungry. It was the least Inuyasha could do to try taking care of Mizuki, though he hadn’t anticipated her moodiness.

Whenever they were out of the house and away, she seemed to relax, but otherwise his girl was totally uncooperative. Miroku and Sango figured that she didn’t like sharing the attention. It was something they dealt with in the early days with their own twin girls. They shrugged and gave him their sympathy, but otherwise couldn’t offer much advice except for him to be patient and try to talk to her.

The problem was Mizuki didn’t want to talk. As soon as he mentioned her brother she’d have a fit. Admittedly, he joked dryly to himself, he felt the same way about his own brother for a long time. The feeling had been mutual, probably.

But Sesshoumaru was an asshole, and Shouya was barely eight days-old.

Inuyasha sniffed the air as the wind passed them by. Kagome was waiting for them. “Kiddo, the sun’s getting low. We gotta go home to Mama.”

Mizuki didn’t look up from her spot on the ground making leaf huts. “I don’t want to.”

“There’s dinner at home.”

“I’m okay.”

He wondered how to persuade her. “Papa’s getting real hungry though. I might fall over if I don’t eat!”

“Papa can fish,” she replied with no mercy.

“So we’ll never go home again? I’ll never see Mama again?”

She seemed to consider that. “Mama can visit us, but leave the baby.”

Inuyasha folded his arms. “That’s your brother, ‘Zuki.”

“I don't care. I don’t like him.”

“So you won’t go home unless we get rid of your brother?”

“Maybe Mama can put him back in her tummy.”

He snorted. “That’s probably going to hurt your mother.”

“Then give him away to someone who wants a new baby. Far away.” She seemed set, and if Inuyasha knew anything about his daughter, it was that her stubbornness rivaled her parents’. Yikes. At least that was only half his fault.

He figured lying would get him farther than arguing for now. It’d get him home at least. “Okay. We’ll tell Mama to leave the baby because you don’t like him. Then you’ll let us go home and eat? I can smell the food. Smells good. Can you smell it, little one?”

Mizuki wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air.

“I smell it too, like Papa! It does smell good!” she agreed with enthusiasm, but Inuyasha smirked. She had to be lying. They were far away enough that Inuyasha knew she’d have trouble picking out the scent, but she was always trying so hard to keep up with him. He decided to humor her.

“You smell the stew?”

“Yes!”

“Wow, I’m so impressed. Let’s go get some. I’m starving!” He knelt down and opened his arms wide for her. When she barreled into his arms he was reminded of his great, unending love for her. He spun her around and squeezed her squirmy body as she giggled, then dipped her over to attack her face with kisses.

“Papa, let’s go!”

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.” He shot off with his usual pace when carrying his daughter. She liked to feel the bounce of his steps, laughing her way as they went up then down. It was slower than his run, but way more fun. He figured he should put her in the best mood possible when they broke the news that they were going to have to keep her brother around.

“We’re home,” Inuyasha announced as they entered.

Kagome was standing near the futon, rocking the baby in her arms gently.

“Good timing. Shouya just had dinner and just fell asleep.”

“I’m envious. Sounds like a good life,” he joked.

Mizuki tugged on his arm. “Papa.”

Right.

“So Kagome, I have some bad news.” When she looked at him confused, he made sure to emote that everything was fine. He liked how easily they communicated.

“Oh yeah?” she goaded.

“Yup. Looks like we’ll have to get rid of the new baby.”

“Oh no! That’s so sad. Why’s that?”

Mizuki squirmed around and pulled her father’s face down. “Papa!” she whispered with urgency.

He held up a finger, motioning for Kagome to hang on. She gave him a smile to show her amusement. He missed her face today. He hasn’t seen enough of her while he was out distracting their daughter. Speaking of which…

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She cupped her small hands around her mouth to relay her secret message. “Tell Mama you don’t want the baby! Don’t tell her I don’t want him.”

“Mizuki, I’m not going to lie to Mama. You’re the one who wants him gone, so you should tell her,” he whispered back. He lifted his head back to Kagome, assuming she must have at least heard some of their conversation. “Mama, Mizuki has something to tell you,” Inuyasha proclaimed, full-well knowing he was throwing her under the bus. Poor thing.

The girl seemed to go red in his arms, suddenly panicked as she faced the most intimidating figure in her (and his) life: her mother.

“Is that so? What do you need to tell me, Mizuki?”

“I--” She sputtered and her eyes began to water and she looked up at her father, silently pleading for him to take over. He shook his head. Of course he felt bad, but she wasn’t being very cooperative when he asked. Kagome was their best bet at getting some answers. If she could get him to open up, she’d manage a five year-old.

“You?” she leaded.

“I want the baby to go away!” she admitted quickly. Her mouth turned itself into a defiant pout, as if she was putting on a brave face.

Kagome paid it no mind. “You do? Why?”

She hesitated for a second before supplying, “I don’t like him!”

“Okay, but why?”

Mizuki whined; a true, genuine whine that sounded like a puppy.

Inuyasha would’ve broken, but Kagome seemed unfazed. How could she? Did she have no heart? It amazed him.

“Do you not like him because he’s a boy?”

“No.”

“You don’t like how he smells?”

“No…”

“Are you jealous?”

Bingo.

Mizuki ruffled and got even redder in the face. Inuyasha gave his daughter a reassuring pat. They already figured that was the problem, but it was a new feeling for her to navigate.

“Mizuki, are you jealous that Mama spends so much time with Shouya?” Kagome asked softly.

“No!” she yelped back.

“Don’t yell at your mother,” Inuyasha chastised.

She shrunk down, her ears flattening. It must have felt like they were ganging up on her, but the time had come for her unexplained tantrums to end. With pent up frustration and embarrassment, pools of tears began to stream down her face and she cried, “I hate him!”

“You don’t have to be jealous, kiddo.”

She wailed, and Shouya finally took notice of the volume, beginning to wiggle and fuss in his mother’s arms. Kagome motioned for Inuyasha to take her away so she could calm him down before he had his own fit. The baby was a heavy sleeper and not a huge crier, but he was cranky when woken up. They’d both be miserable with the two of them crying up a storm, especially Inuyasha with his sensitive hearing.

As soon as he got out the door, he went into comforting mode. There was no use trying to talk to his little girl in this state. He bounced her up and down, shushing her and rubbing her back as she got out her tears and hiccuped.

Inuyasha wracked his brain for the right approach. He had only recently come to terms with expressing his emotions. How was he supposed to tell a child to handle hers? “It’s okay to have feelings, you know.”

Exhausted from crying, she slumped against his shoulder.

“Papa gets jealous too sometimes. Is that what’s happening? You’re jealous?”

She sniffled and slowly nodded. He could feel the heat and moisture of her tears seeping into his firerat. Probably snot too.

Gross, he thought affectionately.

“That’s alright. Do you want to tell me why?”

He felt her shake her head.

“And it’s not because Mama’s busy taking care of him?”

Another no.

He was kind of at a dead end. She was jealous without much reason behind it. Was she capable of having a good reason? He searched the recesses of his mind, channeling the nurturing care of his wife.

“Even if I love your brother, you know I don’t love you less, right?”

“Okay,” she replied in a small voice.

“Does that make it better?”

Negative.

Inuyasha sighed, feeling impatient and hopeless.

Kagome emerged from the hut just then; Shouya once again soundlessly asleep and swaddled against her chest. She smiled at him sympathetically, knowing that crying was never his wheelhouse. He’d always hated when women cried, but Mizuki’s tears were a whole other level of unbearable.

“The weather is nice. The sunset looks like it’ll be pretty,” she stated in a soft, even tone.

“Wanna take a look, kiddo?”

“The colors are pretty. The clouds are getting pink! Our favorite.”

Mizuki shuffled a little as her father angled himself so that she could see from her place on his shoulder. She turned to rest her cheek on him, but otherwise kept sniffling.

“Are you feeling any better now?” Kagome asked her daughter, placing a quick kiss to her swollen face.

Instead of replying, she tugged at her father’s hair again, using it to cover her face. It was a strange, new behavior. Usually when she wanted to hide she’d simply turn her head into his shoulder. Maybe it comforted her though.

“Not sure why she’s doing that,” Inuyasha murmured. “She does it whenever she has one of her fits now.”

Kagome stared for a while before she let out the lightest gasp. When the hanyou looked down at her curiously, he saw the familiar expression of her coming to some kind of understanding.

“Oh, Mizuki…” she cooed with sympathy. “You poor baby.”

Inuyasha raised a brow and Kagome pulled away to laugh. Whatever it was, he knew she’d explain, but it was killing him to be out of the loop.

“She just wants to be like her Papa,” she said with soothing empathy threading her tone. Kagome looked up at her husband fondly, taking her hand to cup his cheek. “From his golden eyes,” she ran her thumb across his eyebrow. Then she reached up towards his ears to stroke one until it flicked in response, “To his fuzzy ears…” she smiled brightly, “to his pretty, silver hair…” Kagome finished, loosely twirling a strand around her finger before turning her gaze to their son.

It clicked for him then.

“You’re jealous of your brother because of his hair?”

Mizuki whimpered, the scent of collecting salty tears assaulting Inuyasha once more as she grabbed more of his locks to cascade down over her own head.

Mystery solved!

It was so cute and so stupid that Inuyasha wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Is that really it, ‘Zuki?”

“I told you, she wants to be just like you,” Kagome reiterates, placing a soothing set of fingers to touch her daughter affectionately.

“Keh!” Yet somehow he was blushing. Maybe it had to do with the way Kagome was beaming at him, prettier than any sunset. “That’s stu--silly. What a silly reason to be upset.”

Mizuki huffed in anger.

“I mean,” he faltered. “It’s sweet. It’s very sweet.” Finally feeling like he had a hold on things and the world made sense again, he mindfully moved back his daughter’s sagging body from his shoulder, some of the hair getting pulled along with her. “But you don’t have to be jealous, little one. You’re great just the way you are, you know that?” He nuzzled their noses together.

“B-But I want to be like Papa!” she sobbed, pushing back. Not even her snotty nose or blotchy crying face could detract from how wretchedly adorable she was.

Kagome thought her heart would melt. “Papa is pretty great, but baby, you are so much like him! You don’t have to have everything be the same.”

It didn’t seem to matter. “Why does the baby have Papa’s hair and I don’t? It’s not fair!”

Both Inuyasha and Kagome exchanged looks. It was clear that Mizuki wasn’t going to get much consolation from her mother on this issue.

Finally, an idea popped into Inuyasha’s head.

“You got my eyes though, don’t ya?” He asked, looking right into her honey colored irises. They were even more intense at this golden hour.

“Yeah…” her ear twitched along with her sniffle.

He grinned. “Then you see the same way I do. You see everything I do, right?”

“Right,” she agreed.

“When I look at you, I see the most perfect little girl in the world. Beautiful eyes, cute little ears and nose, pretty hair like her mother, and the best smile. I see all that. You see it too?”

Mizuki’s eyes watered again, but she nodded. Kagome took the time to brush back the hair stuck to her face.

Inuyasha prodded his daughter more. “You see it, kiddo? Just like me?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what I want to hear!” He pulled her from his body and hoisted her into the air. It was one of their favorite things to do. He spun her around and tossed her until she was nothing but an exhausted heap of smiles, and the stars began to twinkle in the early evening sky.

Later that night when she was about to sleep, Mizuki looked at her brother for a long time before turning away with a curt, “Goodnight baby. We won’t give you away.”

Kagome snorted back a laugh and had her husband put her to bed. Crying, laughing, and letting go of a grudge all in one day really took it out of their poor toddler. Still, seeing Inuyasha fumble through feelings and childrearing-- it all felt so surreal. It felt like home, and she’d never been more content with her life.

Once the kids were both asleep and tucked away, Inuyasha sat behind his wife and finally held her close, his head sitting on her shoulder. He inhaled her scent to re-center himself.

“Tough to be a dad?” she asked teasingly.

“She’s a lot to handle.”

“She’s just like her father.”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes but let them fall shut as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

Kagome turned her cheek and pressed her lips against his bangs.

“Perfect to me,” she added.

Embarrassed but happy, he simply tightened his arms around her. “Yeah, yeah.”

#inukag #inuyasha #inukag babies #kagome higurashi #mizuki #shouya #justafewsmallsteps #jelly art #sango #miroku #jelly fic

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bright-eyes-strawberry-lies · 4 years ago

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I recently read The Camp Half-Blood Confidential for the first time and while most of it made me cringe, there was one story in particular that really made me cringe: Space Could Be An Issue.

For those of you who haven’t read it, the premise of Space Could Be An Issue is this: Annabeth is in charge of designing and building the cabins for the children of minor gods/goddesses but it appears that there’s no space for all of them!

What is an architect to do?

Annabeth suggests treehouses or houseboats and both are shot down by Chiron, who says the nature spirits would never allow it. Good thing that there’s no spirit of grass or open field, otherwise they’d never be able to build anywhere, right? Annabeth suggests caves; because why not just dump all those extras in a cave. Chiron shoots her down again; there’s only one cave and it belongs to the Oracle. Damn. Well what about stacking the cabins on top of each other? Parents associated with the sky can be on top and parents associated with the ground can be at the bottom. What? That seems a little bit...classist? No. Of course not. The real reason that won’t work is because demigods can’t cohabitate. You heard it from Chiron! All of your ships are invalid because demigods of different “families” can’t live together in peace.

Never fear! For Annabeth is here to save the day! Her latest idea is for small and low profile tiny houses. Her words, not mine. (I was going to make a sarcastic comment here about how, after fighting a war for equality, it’s a good idea to put the “lesser” demigods in places that are small and low profile...until I realized that Annabeth wasn’t fighting a war for equality, she was fighting for the continued reign of the Gods and therefore inequality because she ultimately privileges from the system no matter how often she cries mommy issues).

Anyway...The tiny houses are two stories; with a living area that sleeps two, a bedroom loft that sleeps two, and a bathroom. So four demigods per tiny house. Somehow there’s storage beneath the beds in the living area, which are the kind that pull out of the couch. Not sure how that works since normally the bed goes in the “storage area” when it’s in couch mode. And there’s a single closet beneath the stairs for more storage. The bathroom is the coolest part of the whole thing but it’s never mentioned if there’s a shower in those bathrooms or just a toilet and sink.

If you put four of these tiny houses together, they’re the size of one major demigod cabin. Isn’t that so funny. How you need four tiny houses for demigods but can’t build a regular sized cabin. Ha! Hilarious!

Which brings up a question. How big are the original twelve cabins anyway? The Hermes Cabin is so over crowded that kids need to sleep on the floor. Poseidon’s Cabin has nothing but six bunk beds (and later a small saltwater fountain) in it. Meanwhile, the Athena Cabin has multiple smart boards, work desks, a library, and a small armory on top of the beds. They’re clearly not all made equal (and that’s not even getting into the fact that the Hermes Cabin is literally falling apart).

Why does the size of the Athena Cabin matter, though? It matters because none of the other cabins are used for anything other than sleeping and chilling when there aren’t activities. The Athena cabin is so disproportionately huge and ironically high tech compared to the other cabins (WHY DOES RICK HATE THE HERMES CABIN?!). Okay, but they’re using it as a school. Why would you use a cabin as a school room?! Because those kids are supposed to be “geniuses?” So they don’t have anywhere in camp to just relax? It’s always work, work, work for the Athena kids, huh?

Where would you put the school? Oh I don’t know. Maybe the Big House, which only ever has two people living in it despite being three stories tall and super wide and easily the biggest building on the property. Ah, the Big House, where the occupants are always outside on the porch and the only interior mentioned is a living space with a ping pong table, Chiron’s office, and the attic used to stash the Oracle and other useless shit no one wants to look at. Why in Hades would you put a school room there? Think of the ping pong table! Relax! It was just an idea.

Hang on, we’ll come back to this. Now I want to bring up the decorating of cabins. The tiny houses also have the ability to be decorated however the occupants want, with only a single touch, which means that maybe the demigods of Nemesis want neon green walls despite Nemesis having nothing to do with neon green. Or the children of Iris are going through a Goth phase and decide all the walls should be black. Why does that matter? Because all of the other cabins are decorated according to godly parent. The demigods who live in the major cabins are extremely limited in what they can do with decorating because of “tradition and respect.” In fact, Percy and Tyson only add two decorations to their cabin: the aforementioned saltwater fountain and hippocampus figures on the ceiling. Which are both related to Poseidon. Despite some of the major cabins having been rebuilt, they were rebuilt to be exactly the same as before.

Which leads us to two points:

1.) The cabins aren’t shrines to the gods. These cabins aren’t sacred temples to the gods. The gods don’t care what happens in them or to them. They don’t care if they’re broken or overcrowded. They don’t care if the kids are fucking in them or if they’re digging tunnels underneath them or putting curses on them. The gods already have statues of themselves everywhere and most of them have a separate place in Camp that could be considered to be “their” place (Hephaestus and the forges, anyone?).

2.) Hera and Artemis’ cabins should both be nixed completely. Hera, as a goddess who will never have demigod children, doesn’t need a cabin on principle. She only has a cabin out of politeness, not necessity. And I can hear your protests already but no, Artemis shouldn’t have a cabin either. Her hunters have magical tents that they live in every other day of the year except for the one day out of the summer that they stop by Camp Half-Blood. That’s two cabins that regularly stand empty - one 100% of the time and one 99% of the time - and take up valuable space for people who actually need it.

Speaking of cabins that are usually empty: Poseidon and Zeus dont have more than one or two kids at a time (despite Zeus being a slut) so their cabins don’t actually need to be as big as the other cabins. Percy mentions that upon arriving at Camp Half-Blood, there are a couple hundred kids. More than half of them “disappear” during the first winter. Some die over the course of the series. Then the camp gets a huge influx of demigods; both the ones that came from Kronos’ army because they were pardoned and the previously unclaimed demigods.

Annabeth suggested stacking cabins on top of each other, which is a stupid idea for so many reasons (only one of which is pointed out to her and I listed another one), but she was actually on to something.

Except instead of making each floor for a different group of Godlings, what if, hear me out now, you bulldoze every single Cabin. (You get a tent! You get a tent! No, just kidding about the tents unless you’re a hunter of Artemis.)

Bulldoze the existing Cabins so that you’re starting from scratch (Annabeth, take some damn notes). Rebuild without Hera and Artemis’ Cabins. You never know when Zeus and Poseidon are going to get horny now that they’re technically allowed to reproduce again, so make their Cabins the same size as all the others (if you must). Rebuild the Cabins so that they’re a smidge narrower and a lot taller. That’s right! Slap two or three floors on top of those suckers! Make! Everyone! Fit! Give! Them! Space! No! More! Sleeping! On! The! Floor!

But what about the disabled - THERE ARE NO DISABLED DEMIGODS. Not even a single one! Everyone can climb stairs! Everyone! All the time!

Well that’s...true (and ableist) but what about Chiron? Shouldn’t he be able to get into the cabins? Chiron already can’t get into the cabins. He couldn’t get into the original twelve, he can’t get into any of the new ones.

Which brings me to the final, and possibly most important point. GIVE THESE KIDS PRIVATE BATHROOMS FOR FUCKS SAKE! If everyone thinks it’s a good idea for the tiny houses to have “personal” bathrooms, then give them to all of the cabins. No more communal showers! No more hazing other campers in the public toilets! No more getting eaten by harpies because you had to pee after curfew!

This way everyone is equal. No one has a better space or more space than anyone else. Everyone gets to decorate how they want. No one is going to die on the way to the bathroom. Because even though the war was ultimately about maintaining the status quo, Percy and Luke both said “no, this isn’t right and too many are suffering because of it and things need to change.” One traded his life for it, the other traded immortality for it.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#percy jackson #percy jackson series #riordanverse #annabeth chase #camp half blood #long post #text post

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princepsumbra · 3 years ago

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"Lord Leo."

She finds him in his office, as she had suspected. She is thankful he is alone. She would have rather not had others hear what she had to say, and for whatever other qualities the Nohrian prince had, she knew gossip was not one of them. "I am well aware you do not wish to see me. This will require a simple moment of your time." She is due to depart for her mission soon anyways.

Mitama stands a respectful distance away, remaining just inside the doorway of his office rather than approaching any further. However downtrodden she may be feeling, she manages to stand tall, stand determined, and meet the other's gaze. It is a small triumph, one she tucks away for later.

"I am unsurprised to hear you so quickly heard of what had transpired between Siegbert and I, but I do wish to assure you I had no intention of playing a fool and going to you for advice." She had heard plenty enough for Forrest over the years to know well enough that Lord Leo was unlikely to provide any of substance.

"I am well aware of my fault in the affair and my failings as one Siegbert has chosen to devote himself to. I do not deny that the situation is mine to fix alone. And I am under no disillusion that you are under any obligation to do more than tolerate me should things be amended."

Mitama takes a moment to breath, forcing down the instincts of her wounded pride to allow her tongue to grow sharp. That was what had caused this all in the first place after all. "I simply wished to assure you my failings were not intentional, though that does little to make their gravity any less. I make no idealistic promises about solving this immediately, or making it so such a bump never existed, however."

She breathes again and then sinks into a bow, a proper one, hands gripped tightly into fists behind her back. "I am glad Siegbert has family who cares for him such as you at his side."

She straightens and quickly nods in acknowledgement. "Pardon, but I must depart for my mission now. Thank you for your time." And with that done, the shrine maiden leaves the prince to his thoughts.

"Miss Matsuo."

Leo closes the book currently sitting open on his desk with deliberate motions, the thick cover falling shut with an audible thump. He remains silent after the terse greeting to allow her ample time to speak.

No, he does not want to see her, unless she's bringing news that she's spoken to her beloved. A vicious part of him hopes she stares at the painting behind him, knows Siegbert painted the snowy landscape, because he is only ever doing things he hopes will make his loved ones happy.

Her posture remains rigid, standing firm in the doorway of his office. If she wants to let any passerby hear this private matter, that's her issue. (Or it's calculated. He won't say anything too sensitive where anyone can eavesdrop.)

Starry eyes meet his own steely gaze. Point to her; she hardly flinches, nor does her voice ever waver. Leo only moves to fold his hands over the book. Face remains still throughout her speech.

Hm. Given this little display, his opinion of her has elevated slightly; if she does make her intended amends, and means them, then perhaps he can do more than only tolerate her. He's fairly certain Siegbert wouldn't stand for his uncle holding a grudge years in the future, regardless.

And then Mitama bows. A proper one, showing complete deference.

Leo finally raises one eyebrow. In the moment he takes to gather his thoughts, ensure his tone remains cool, she departs. He does admire her courage in even approaching him, much less admitting her faults.

"...And thank you," he says to an empty room. The slow flame of anger in his chest turns to a simmer. After this mission, he believes he can blow them out for good.

Only time will tell.

#at least i didn't embarrass myself [asks]#WHEW #HE HAS MANY THOUGHTS...but he won't voice them #not yet

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dancingkirby · 4 years ago

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ATLA OC Week Day 6: Journey

@atlaocweek

Summary: Shiza and her son journey to Kyoshi Island to pay their respects to a fiery ancestor.

WARNINGS: Past homophobia. Brief mention of a (mutually) nonconsensual sexual encounter.

Shiza and her younger son had been planning this trip for several years now, and had finally saved up enough money and freed up enough time for the long boat voyage to the far south of the Earth Kingdom. Their destination: Kyoshi Island.

When Shiza and Teza got there, they were surprised by how quiet this place was, with it being such a place of historical significance. The islanders were an odd sort as well; soon after they got there, Shiza had witnessed one of them, a middle-aged man maybe a few years older than her, appear to have some sort of seizure and fall to the ground foaming at the mouth. However, while she had panicked and shouted for help, none of the man’s fellow islanders had been concerned.

“Aw, don’t worry, Ma’am,” one woman finally said. “He just does that sometimes. He’ll be fine.”

The native residents had also been a little wary of Shiza and Teza at first because they were of Fire Nation origin, but they warmed up decidedly once Shiza had revealed the reason for their visit. The little inn they stayed at was perfectly comfortable, and the food delicious and plentiful. The day after their arrival, after a luxurious sleep-in, they were duly escorted up a small hill behind the main Kyoshi shrine until they reached a smaller shrine tucked away in the trees.

Obviously, this one didn’t get as much traffic in recent years. However, the building had been maintained well. It consisted of one tiny room, empty except for an offering tray and a life-size statue of Shiza and Teza’s direct ancestor…Rangi. Avatar Kyoshi’s life partner. (Rangi had been obliged to marry a Fire Nation man, since she was her family’s only child, but they’d gone their own ways after having the requisite two offspring. This had been a mutually beneficial arrangement, since her husband had also been an only child and liked men.)

The statue stood there proudly, hand on hips, glaring at anyone who dared approach it. Rangi had lived a long life, almost 120 years, and had accomplished much during her life. After her passing, it was said that Avatar Kyoshi had never been quite the same. Shiza wondered what the boisterous, passionate, fiercely loyal Rangi would have thought about having such a meek and boring descendant as herself.

She placed a bundle of dry noodles on the offering tray; this had been suggested by the islanders. Apparently, noodles had been something of an inside joke between Rangi and Kyoshi. Then they both knelt. For a few minutes, they held their positions without speaking, enjoying the quiet and serene aura of the place. Then, Teza spoke up.

“Do you want to go first, Mom, or should I go?” he asked. They had previously agreed that each of them would have a few minutes alone to say what they wished to their ancestor.

“I’ll go first,” Shiza said. “Unless you really wanted to be first?”

Teza said that he was fine with that plan, and walked out. Once she was certain that her son was out of earshot, Shiza began hesitantly speaking.

“Um…just so you know, I’m really good at thinking up big and important things to say, so bear with me, please. If you’re even listening.”

She had been worrying that she’d just freeze up and not be able to think of anything to tell the statue at all, but while her words weren’t the most eloquent, she found them easily.

“I didn’t know that much about you until fairly recently,” she admitted. “When I was a child, the sort of relationship you had with Kyoshi was illegal, and not talked about in proper society. What was more, your lover was the incarnation of the Avatar. Double no-no in the Fire Nation. Whenever I brought you up, Mother would shush me.”

She touched her forehead to the smooth wood floor, gathering her strength for the next part of her story.

“Teza was always really interested in you,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when it’s his turn. He’d read any book about you that he could get his hands on. And I never questioned it. I was just glad that he was reading anything; he inherited my difficulty with that, unfortunately. But now I know what appealed to him so much. You were a role model to him; a person who openly lived with the person she loved despite so many people being against it. And I…really dropped the ball on that.”

Tears pricked at Shiza’s eyes as she remembered the day four years ago that she’d come home from grocery shopping only to find her younger son, only recently turned eighteen, standing in the living room surrounded by suitcases. He’d told her that he was moving in with his boyfriend, and that she never had to see him again if she didn’t want to.

She’d never liked to think about same-sex relationships before. After all, when one grew up only hearing it discussed in the briefest of shocked and disgusted whispers, one wasn’t predisposed to feel favorably about the subject. And then there’d been the time that Ozai had made her and Naoko do…that while he watched. Even when Fire Lord Zuko lifted the ban on these relationships, Shiza hadn’t understood them, nor had she really wanted to. Eventually, she had adopted a viewpoint which she had thought was a reasonable compromise: she was okay with them doing what they wanted in the privacy of their own home, but she didn’t like them flaunting their relationships in public where she and others were forced to see it.

Then she’d seen how shy, sensitive Teza’s face had been twisted with worry. I can’t keep this private anymore, it had said. Will you hate me for it? And she’d realized what a gigantic mistake she’d made.

She had always loved her children with all her heart; had always prided herself on being a good mother. And if that meant giving herself an enormous mental slap in the face, changing the entire way she thought…so be it. The choice was clear. Almost immediately, she had firmly said that he was staying right here, and they shared a weepy embrace. Although Shiza would have liked it to be the case that all if her problematic views had disappeared right then, that didn’t exactly happen. She’d had a lot to learn; still did. Sometimes, she still said bad things without thinking; however, she’d given Teza permission to call her out. Jinhai and Teza’s siblings and stepsiblings had been accepting from the start, having grown up in the more relaxed Yu Dao, which also provided Shiza with a good example.

“…Anyway, I’m so proud of him,” she told Rangi’s statue while dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her tunic. “And I’m sure that you’d be, too. He’s still with his boyfriend; his name’s Bingwen and he’s the perfect match for Teza. They did finally start living together last year. Zoren and Ai send their best wishes. Unfortunately, they were unable to make the trip…Ai’s busy with her summer kuai ball league, and Kiyi’s due to give birth any week now.” Indeed, once she was done with this, Shiza would have to rush up to Capital Island to be with her daughter-in-law as she had her first child.

“Well, I guess that’s all from me. It was nice talking to you, but I shouldn’t keep Teza waiting any longer,” she concluded. She got up rather slowly (Ack. She wasn’t even forty yet, and her knees were already giving her trouble!), walked out of the shrine, and saw Teza sitting on a bench about twenty feet away.

“It’s all yours now!” she called out to him. As he ran up the hill to take his turn, she took his place on the bench. She felt at peace, as if she’d finally accomplished a big task that she’d been putting off for some time. The physical journey to Kyoshi Island hadn’t been the only one she’d taken.

#avatar: the last airbender #fanfic #atla oc week #non-con

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years ago

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Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 12: I Beg You

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing, Mention of Suicide Words: 2536

Sitting beside the pond in the palace courtyard, you were silent as you watched the fish swim about, not at all bothered by the fluttering snow that landed in the water. You knew that you were also covered in the soft flakes, but that was of little consequence to you. The cold did little to bother you at this point, as a depression had settled into your core. Although it had been a week, you couldn’t quite get over the way that Bakugou had treated you. He hadn’t even come to see you or beckoned for your assistance since then, so either he felt guilty about what he had done, or he was truly mad at you.

Had it really been your fault? Had you completely misread all the signs to take everything he had said and done that day as something more special than it was? You still didn’t know how that could have been possible. All of it was so obvious that, even while drunk, you could easily see it. There was an interest that went far beyond what he claimed his feelings for you were, but he was just too stubborn, or even scared, to admit it.

How could you allow yourself to care about him so much in the first place? What if you suddenly woke up back in your own world or found a way to go home? You would be forced to forget him, and that would do nothing but bring on more pain.

But… would you really be able to go home at that point? If you had the choice between staying here and going home, what would you take? It could go either way, you guessed, depending on the state of things here. If the palace was burning, if people were dying, then of course you would go home. But, if he did come to love you like you hoped, if he cared for you as deeply as you wished, then would you be able to leave him?

Probably not. Probably so. In truth, you didn’t know why you bothered contemplating over things like that. He may never come to love you, and you may never find a way to get home. For all you knew, you’d be stuck here for the rest of your life, talking to fish. How pathetic such a life would be.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

The comforting and familiar voice for Tsuyu pulled your attention from the pond, forcing a smile onto your lips as she came to sit in the snow beside you. “Ah, Tsuyu… I didn’t realize you were back already.”

“Yes, I just got back earlier today. I’m grateful to be home.” Smiling, Tsuyu leaned over a bit to look down into the pond, watching as the white fish Sushi swam about and peered up at her. “Spending some time with Sushi? Have you told him any stories?”

“Not today,” You reached down and let a finger sink into the ice-cold water, softly stroking the top of Sushi’s head and allowing him to nibble at your skin. “He’s already heard all I have to say…”

“Then perhaps you would like to tell someone who can actually talk back?”

Tsuyu’s offer to hear you out tugged at your heart, nearly immediately bringing tears to your eyes. You wanted so badly to talk to someone, to anyone about what you were going through, but it was nearly impossible to do so without spilling the truth. But, at this point, you didn’t really care if you did. You just wanted someone to listen to you, and so, Tsuyu it would be.

“If you don’t mind listening, I have some stuff I’d… like to get off my chest. If you don’t tell Bakugou. Please.”

After a moment of silence, Tsuyu nodded, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Don’t worry… At this point of you being here with us, I know there are things that need to be kept quiet. Personal things aren’t something I should share anymore…”

Nodding, you took in a deep breath, trying to fight the tears to keep them at bay. “I just… I am so grateful for the people I’ve met. The kindness that you have all shown me. But I still feel just like I’m a prisoner, even after all this time. I… I want to go home.” It was then that you couldn’t hold back the tears, letting them stream down your cheeks freely. “But I don’t think that’s ever going to be possible…”

“Escape would be difficult for you… As would finding your way back from here, since you don’t know where we are on the maps, technically.”

“It’s not even that. If I could escape from here, if I could get out on my own, it still wouldn’t be possible. My home is so far away from here… It would be impossible, even if I got back to the shrine where you found me.”

“That shrine. It is an odd place, isn’t it?” Tsuyu pulled a cloth from her kimono, handing it to you so you could wipe your eyes. “There are a lot of stories, some from many years back talking about the strange things that happened there. People would vanish and others would appear, some speaking in odd languages and others just completely out of their minds. Exactly like you.”

Sniffling, you looked down at Tsuyu in shock, surprised to hear that she knew these things and wasn’t at all put off by talking about them. “W-what? You knew about these things?”

“I have. I… am quite interested in the odd things of this world. Stories and myths… Horrors and superstitions. It’s all fascinating to me. I don’t tell many people this because they find it strange for a woman to be interested in such things… But I feel like you should know that I’m aware of it. And… I think that is what happened to you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“There’s no way that you are from this world, Miss. Your clothing, your speech, your mannerisms, and most importantly, how you know all the things that you do. I feel it isn’t possible… Unless you are a witch or a demon.” Tsuyu moved some of her dark hair back behind her ear, and you couldn’t help but for the moment find some humor in what she was saying. She believed that you could easily be from a different era, and yet you were still suspected of something so… primal. It was odd, but you didn’t question it, allowing her to go on.

“You don’t have to tell me the truth. But I will say, you are very lucky that I am the one that found you first. If it would have been anyone else, you would have been killed immediately with no questions asked.” Tsuyu turned her gaze up towards you, small smile on her lips. “It was like perfect timing… Like it was meant to be.”

With a sigh, you wiped the chilled tears from your cheeks using the cloth she had given you, before letting your hands fall into your lap in defeat. “Even if it was… It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel like I belong here. I just want to go home… If you know about these things, can’t you help me?”

Smile fading, Tsuyu gave a shake of her head. “No, Miss. I can’t and will not do that. I may consider you a friend at this point, and I trust you, but I won’t go against the word of my Lord. If you truly want to return home, or have a chance to… Then you’ll need to speak with Bakugou.”

“That’s like talking to a brick wall…” You handed Tsuyu back her cloth, finding that the tears had stopped for the time being. “He’s impossible.”

“He is. But I heard that he took you into town recently. How was that?”

At the thought of how much fun you had that day, you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across your lips, feeling your cheeks flush hot against the cold winter air. “It was… wonderful. Up until the very end. I misread some… signals, I guess, and I upset him.”

With a small sigh, Tsuyu stood, cleaning her clothing of snow with sweeping and patting hands. “Miss, I doubt you misread him. What you probably did was just embarrass him. He’s not very good with emotion, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. When he doesn’t know how to act or what to say, he just does what he knows, and that’s to be angry. I have seen a change in him, though… You bring out his soft side.”

Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you stood as well, though you ignored the snow that stuck to your clothes. “Well, I’m tired of sitting around here moping. I’m going to go try and talk to him.”

“About that night?”

“No… About going home. If I do bring out his soft side… then maybe he will let me try.”

…

“You want to leave? Do you really think barging in here without even making your presence known and then demanding your release is the right way to go about things, Demon?” Bakugou glowered up at you as he sat on the floor around his map table, with Kirishima across from him and Kaminari to his left. The two other men stared at you in shock, probably put off by your rudeness and harsh tone. Did you really care? No, not at all. You knew that coming to Bakugou all timid and sad wasn’t going to work. So, you figured that coming in aggressive might just give you a better chance, considering that’s how he tended to handle everything.

“Yes, I do think it’s the right way. Can we talk in private--”

“No.” Bakugou interrupted you with a sharp snap, his glare changing from annoyed to truly irritated. “You’re interrupting. You need to wait. I will come get you when I have time.”

Kirishima sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Sir, it’s alright if she needs to talk to you, we can come back.”

“I said no.”

“Katsuki, this can’t wait! I need to talk to you--” A gasp interrupted you as Bakugou stood, snatching you by the arm and pulling you out of the room. “--H-hey, wait!” You were quick to catch your footing, but you didn’t bother fighting back, as this was exactly what you had wanted. He had fallen for your pestering, so now all you had to do was get him to listen. “Katsuki--”

“I told you not to call me that around the others!” Bakugou finally came to a stop, hissing at you in a harsh attempt at a whisper. “Can’t you follow even the simplest damn directions?! You’re such a stupid woman, trying to undermine me in front of my men! I could have your stupid ass killed for that!”

“Then why don’t you do it? Huh? Why don’t you just get rid of me already! If you won’t let me go home, at least do something with me so I’m not sitting around here rotting!”

“You’re a fool! You have free reign of the palace, you have everything you want, you can do anything you want here, it isn’t my fault that you decide to just sit on your ass all day talking to damn fish! You might as well accept that and be content with what you have, because as long as my Lord wants you here, you aren’t leaving!”

“Does he really want me here, or is it you?”

Your question caught Bakugou off guard, his grip on your arm loosening. “I already told you. I told you, when we were in town, that I didn’t want you to leave. I want you to stay, but not just because of what you can do for us. I--” Whatever he had wanted to say caught in his throat, and just like that night, anger instantly took over the truth. “It doesn’t matter why. You can’t leave. My Lord requires your skills, as do I.”

“And what if I just won’t offer my help anymore, hm? What then?”

“Then you’ll know what being treated like a prisoner is truly like.”

His threat was cold and harsh, instantly making your entire chest feel like it was frozen in ice. Pulling your arm away from him, you took a few steps back. “You always say that you don’t know what to think of me… But I know what to think of you. You’re nothing but a cruel man… and all this…” You reached up and pulled the brilliant crimson jeweled hairpin from your hair, before shoving it into his hands. “All this you did for me… it means nothing.” Before allowing him to say a word, you began your way back down the hall, arms wrapped tightly around your chest.

You ignored Kirishima and Kaminari as you walked past them, not caring in that moment that they had been eavesdropping just inside Bakugou’s room. Kirishima seemed particularly worried about you, however, and so he began to follow. “Wait, [L/N], where are you going?”

“I want to go out for a horse ride… I need to be away from here and away from him.” You spoke barely loud enough for Kirishima to hear you, though he did stop and glance back at Bakugou. You assumed at Bakugou must have given a silent command for him to follow you, as the redhead jogged a bit to catch up, keeping just a few paces behind you.

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Why? So, you can keep an eye on me?”

“Not fully… I just don’t think that you should be alone right now. People can make bad choices when they are left to fend off their own demons.”

Keeping your head down, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for worrying him. From what you had said, you were positive it must as come off as suicidal in some ways, especially with how you demanded Bakugou to just kill you. It was true, that wasn’t a thought that had necessarily been vacant in your mind. It had come to you a few times in the night, when you felt so alone and lost in this world.

With a sigh, you looked up Kirishima before chancing a quick glance behind you, feeling your stomach clench as you saw Bakugou still silently standing there, glaring down at the hairpin in his hands.

“I just… I wish that he would just tell me the truth…”

“[L/N]... What you felt that day when he took you out to town, what you experienced with him, that was the truth. If you’re expecting words out of him, you’ll find yourself feeling like this over and over. Actions are what matter. And giving him back that pin… He won’t forgive that easily.”

“He talks to you about me, doesn’t he?”

“Occasionally. But none of it is my place to say… I know what when the time is right, though, he’ll offer that pin back to you. And I hope that you’ll take it.”

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #personal #ancient soul

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save-ben-swolo · 5 years ago

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I want to understand...why did the shrine move from one side of the room to the other??? Why is that it in different sides of the room in some trailers??? Did it moved on it’s own???

I would like to understand too!!! I’M CALLING SHENANIGANS ON THIS SCENE:

CLEARLY there is not enough room behind the shrine in the first picture for them to be lunging like that (with room to spare) in the second picture. And besides that, the shrine is OBVIOUSLY further beyond the stairs in the second picture.

Unless it’s a (really unfortunate) editing mistake that was missed and this IS just one continuous fight scene where they end up behind the shrine and smash it.... something more is going on here.

If it SERIOUSLY turns out that the shrine can move and it yeets itself in the way so they break it.... there was ZERO chance of trying to accurately predict what’s happening in this crazy movie. My other (slightly more reasonable) crack theory is that these could be shots from two different scenes in similar looking rooms because Kylo is playing “musical shrine” and moving it around trying to hide it from Rey.

Ultimately the theory I’m likely going into the theater with is that they fight while talking and eventually chill, agree to work together (at least for NoW), move the shrine (for reasons?!) and destroy it. (idk why they would have to move it though??? Maybe it IS just a horrible inconsistency in editing?!?) But I still prefer this theory because it would also explain his “nod of agreement” (??) in the white room and why he lets them go in the hanger scene afterwords (the spec that he’s letting them go is obviously open for debate but... that’s seemingly shot/framed very poorly if he ISN’T letting them go for “reasons”).

Important Addendum: As some (smart) people have pointed out in reblogs, it’s likely a mirrored hallway with stairs on the other side making it look like the shrine moved but it’s just a different angle in the same hallway (what a weird fucking place to display the helmet. A hallway?! NOT a private room with limited access?! W/e Ben) Anyway, I obviously need to retire from spec because I’m just making up conspiracy theories now. LOL!

#idk guys spec is too hard with this movie #they will defeat Palps by coming together. ben will live. they will kiss. but other than that.. shit IDK #i’m still dying on the dark rey hill and they Leia’s death moves ben towards redemption/they have an emotional reconciliation hill #tros speculation #the white room #asks

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ironforgedrp · 5 years ago

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♛ ATTENTION THOSE IN SUNSPEAR !

a plot point, occurring within the midsummer ball —

as those at the ball begin to CAST THEIR LAST VOTES FOR THE SUN GOD & SUN GODDESS COMPETITION at the midsummer ball, things have been… — - happening whilst everyone is enjoying and revelling in the merriment.

still in a haze of delighted shock and happiness at rediscovering a long-lost friend, ADELAYNE ( @adelaynehill ) the new handmaiden to the queen is lost in a sea of glittering, smiling, joyfully wine-happy people. she is up on her toes searching for a missing black head of hair that seems to have vanished... when a booming voice belonging to a certain crownlands blacksmith shouts out ‘WHERE IS LADY LYSELLA !?’ she feels the room slow around her as she begins to feel sick — she can only find morrec’s face, worryingly contorted in — panic?! wait... where is the queen? her brother the king? her sister lysella? why is nicholas leaving? where is everyone? ade feels slightly lightheaded and grips the wall for support as she frantically searches the filled, glistening, unrested hall and panicked tears prickle at her eyes. her house is under attack again, she can feel it and the blood roars in her ears as her feet begin to move without consent, hurrying towards her chambers with increasing pace. dimly she hears muffled yelling, and she picks up into a light run as she approaches the door of her quarters — a horrified cry coming from her lips as she beholds the destruction.

it is a similar scenario of mirth and noble celebration for the youngest targaryen present at the ball. DAENYS ( @daenysxtargaryen ) is playing the part of the perfect lady and giving a polite curtsy as she finishes a spin on the dance floor with a young lord of the north. stopped on her path to retrieve a refreshment, she is informed by a trusted guard that several nobles have left unexpectedly and the safest place may be in her chambers with a locked door to protect her. hesitant but given no real choice, she allows herself to be escorted by two loyal men, with instructions for a third to send for her sister CAERELLA ( @drragonbcrn ). the clanking of the armour only just covers up their footfalls as they enter the sprawling manor house and towards her rooms, an eerie quiet over the rooms occupied by the dragonstone cousins of the iron throne. a hushed question crosses the subconscious of her mind as they approach her door — where are there servants?

OUTSIDE HER ROOMS — adelayne.

ADELAYNE / ACE: your door is violently kicked in, your small & understated room is in a state of absolute destruction. the bedding is shredded, feathers all across the room, the clay water bowl is shattered against the wall and soaking the ground. your box of belongings: dresses, shoes, undergarments — all have been tossed around the room and all are ripped, soaked in dirty water or damaged in some way. there is nothing left untouched, nothing left unturned and you know what is gone before you find the obliterated shards of the small wooden box. though you will go on to search again and again, the letter explaining your lannister birthright is gone. that is not what scares you most. on your bedside table, atop where the draws have been ripped out and emptied, it is neat... uncannily so. disturbingly so. your small shrine brought from home to honour the seven, the seven-pointed holy star, and your book of scriptures are neatly arranged, with seven candles lit.

your legs finally buckle in your golden dress, you grab the bed as you sink to the floor fighting the urge to cry out... you had never purchased candles in your rooms in dorne — it was too hot. and the papers on the seven, your private prayers and thanks to them... they were carefully stashed at the bottom of your trunk, wrapped in the shawl you used to bind your hair back when you were training to join the septas. sitting in shock for a moment, you pick yourself up and turn to the door at the sounds of masculine shouts echoing off the wall but you freeze all over again as your eyes lift higher... above the door, which is hanging off one hinge, you see the words ‘SINS OF THE FATHER’ in a dark red, dripping paint scrawl and maybe, maybe now you know why you have been targeted.

LIST OF DAMAGE IN THE ROOM: discovered after cleaning and sorting through mess

There are very few items that aren’t damaged in some way.

ALL of her new dresses have been shredded by some sort of blade and had the same dark red paint poured over them

ITEMS LEFT UNTOUCHED: a plain and modest dress with long sleeves, and a similar dress though with shorter sleeves for the warmer days, shawl from the Septas of the Seven, given to noviciates to cover their hair & ensure their modesty. (& obviously the small shrine atop the side table)

MISSING:

The letter decreeing Adelayne as a blood member of House Lannister, last-born daughter of the Grey Lion of the West.

TASK:

ADELAYNE / ACE: One shot describing her arriving at her rooms, and going through her items to find that her document about her heritage has been stolen.

OUTSIDE HER ROOMS — daenys.

DAENYS / GINNY: you slide your key into the lock of your room, solid clunk of the mechanism allowing you to turn the handle and enter. it is slightly cooler than you were expecting, which is a nice change, and you call for a servant to bring flint to light the oil lamps. no answer comes at your call, and you send a guard to go find one thinking perhaps they were enjoying their own celebrations but as you step further into your room to un-shutter your bedside lamp a crisp, grinding crunch underfoot stops you in your tracks. you call for the other guard to bring one of the wall-lamps as you notice the curtains of your window flapping strangely... you had not left a window open, had you? as the guard confirms there are no marauders hidden under the bed, in the wardrobe, nowhere in the strangely untouched room you notice a clean sheet of paper laying neatly on your bed.

as you reach for it curiously, a loud yell of ‘OH, GODS — NO!’ from the guard you had sent to find a servant to assist you causes you to jump on the spot. both you and the guard hurry to the source of the cry, and the sight churns your stomach... you turn away immediately as tears spring to your eyes. the closest servants of both you and your sister have been found... bound and hung by the neck in the wine cellar. below them, the ground is saturated with spilt wine as it appears several casks have been uncorked and tipped on their side. as you stand, trembling in shock and fear and revulsion you look down at the paper in your hand, the one that had been on your bed. it reads:

❝𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐞 — 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.❞

a tremble creeps up your spine, a tremor in your hands as you re-read the words again, willing the image of the poor servants out of your mind. none of it makes sense, and you find yourself demanding (screaming? you’re not sure anymore...) for the guards to find your sister immediately.

LIST OF DAMAGE IN THE ROOM: discovered after cleaning and sorting through mess

The window is completely shattered in: they locate a large sea-worn stone the size of a large pomegranate under the bed, other than that the room seems untouched

MISSING:

Some jewellery, coins, you note nothing else out of place

TASK:

DAENYS / GINNY: a 1x1 thread between you and @drragonbcrn when the guards arrive, it is up to you if you share the note with her (or anyone) as you try to make sense of the attack and the senseless murder of their dear servants.

OOC NOTE:

if you have been assigned a task or paired thread, (not everyone will be, it is again up to chance!) please do complete it as we have put a lot of energy and time into creating these and tailoring them to each character or pair. there is no word count minimum, or any conditions save for completing the task within a fortnight/14 days of it being posted. we cannot stress this enough: it does not need to be long, the point is to have your character react to what has happened to/around them. unless you have spoken with the admins, if you don’t complete the task, or respond/reply to the paired thread it will affect your activity come the applicable check, as well as this your character will not be eligible for the next random event selection.

while this may seem quite stern, we don’t mean it to be. though we must impress that the admin and mods put several hours of work into these posts, we know and love how you all get very enthusiastic at the idea of the random events, and we are ridiculously excited to bring them to you all, but it is very discouraging when nothing comes of the plots we post up and we have noticed this has been happening. if you have any problems please let us know via the main blog, but in the mean time —

THE FABLED D&D DICE OF IRONFORGED HAVE BEEN CAST …

@adelaynehill / @daenysxtargaryen … for better or worse you have been selected!

#plot point: a marauder in the night #cw: murder #plot arc: dornish summit #plot drop: midsummer ball

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