#of rewriting so that it isn't

[garrywantspasta]

Part 1

Yes, there's more to this... I just... I just needed to.. I needed this. 😩

Idk If Agatha just dressed up for Wanda, or If it's an AU where Wanda somehow went back in time or met a variant, but what MATTERS IS THAT 90's Rock n'roll/Punk Agatha needs to be seen 👌(by Wanda...)

[scarapanna]

I liked your art, you won🎉🎉🎉

WE WON NO REDEMPTION WAHOOOOO/silly

I'm still terrified of the redemption route for this clown though hdhghfg, I want his silly self to stay evil and wimsy and goofy and with redemption uhhh

We're like

I dunno I'm sooo scared devsis is gonna take away that aspect which is what makes him just so funnn. Please pretty please let him be god awful and rotten and rude and goofy if you take that route Devisis I want him to keep his funny wimsy qualities. Please please pleaseeee write him well y'all are doing sooo good with him don't fumble by taking the redemption route (And if they do it better be good and he better stay chaotic and goofy and sassy and condescending and all his "rotten rabid thing" qualities)

If they do him (And his fun aspects justice in this dreaded hypotetical) then I may be cool with it. Though the mean ass possum has grown on me so much I'd 100% miss that evil and unhinged part of him TONS, devsis have mercy pretty please/silly

[Longer more insane ramblings are in the tags hsfhfhhv]

[theladyofrosewater]

I'm bribing yall with art so you'll listen to my current Ro'Meave lore that I'm using as an excuse to talk about Leona

Here’s the Ro’Meave Family Lore Dump for my rewrite you guys asked for. Buckle up because it’s going to jump around a bit and BOY do I have a lot to say. (very minor warning for my discussion of Zane and Kiki in canon)

I’m starting out with Gwyn and Mairwen, who are essentially just OCs to flesh out the Ro’Meave line.  Gwyn is the Ro’Meave heir and lord with Mairwen being their wife. Together they only have one child who makes it to adulthood, Garte. Gwyn however has an affair second child later on in life after Mairwen fell ill. the affair baby ends up being Malik, A.K.A the Lord of Phoenix Drop.

Malik gets basically banished from a young age with a nanny and Garte never finds out about him because family dishonor or whatever. Malik grows up bouncing around from village to village until the nanny who was supposed to accompany him falls ill and dies. Garte has become lord at this point but Malik heard rumors that Garte may have killed Gwyn and so settled down in Phoenix Drop where he married Matilda and they lived happily together for a while.

Garte of course marries Zianna like he does in canon and it’s Zianna’s family that has the big changes. Basically in my rewrite Zianna is the older sister of Lilly of Falcon Claw, who like in canon is Aaron’s wife. So this essentially makes Aaron the uncle of the Ro’Meave boys as well as giving more of motivation than besides love interest and revenge. This also makes Aaron’s son Jacob (knowing jess his name was a twilight reference) Zianna’s nephew and the cousin to the three boys

Garte and Zianna have Garroth early on in their marrige but when Garroth is 4 his parents get pretty frigid with each other and by the time he’s 6 he’s got two new baby brothers. Zianna has her affair like in canon except no one know who’s the affair baby if there even is one till much later. Eventually after the events of another draft that I have rotting in my notes Vylad ends up dead and Zane get’s shoved into the Church of Irene after someone stabbed out his eye. Then Garroth get’s engaged to Nicole while he’s away training at Brightport’s academy and decides to fake his own death on the way back and runs away to Phoenix Drop

Key takeaway with this is that Garroth when arriving in Phoenix Drop DOES NOT KNOW Malik is his uncle. Malik knows but hides Garroth because he thinks Garte is an ass (true) and then Levin is born and after awhile after Zenix is adopted into Phoenix Drop, the village is attacked, Malik dies and Matilda and Levin flee to Scaleswind while being chased by Shadow Knights. Garroth if he knew about Malik at this point get’s his memory wiped by Gene and doesn’t rediscover the fact till like season three

Then we get into the events of season one and everything kinda happens as normal until we get to Zane's arrival in Phoenix Drop

Okay now for the big can of worms

Leona

Leona in canon was originally heavily hinted at to be Zane’s daughter and then during season two Jess must have realized how fucked up Leona’s birth could be read and then said “Oh no her father could be Kiki’s old lover and its actually not as bad of a thing” Which considering Zane’s character makes like zero sense. When I watched MCD I never caught the implications but a lot of people have realized that what happened to KiKi could essentially be read as rape which….I personally DO NOT LIKE when stories have these elements so I knew that I would have to change that part of the story BUT I didn’t want to just make it so Kiki and Zane were a couple as I think that could be read in poor taste if I wasn’t careful. Zane is still an awful person but I needed to change something So here’s what I’m going to do for my rewrite. 

I’m going to make Kiki and Zane’s relationship consensual, Zane upon meeting her kept seeking out Kiki as she would be easy to sway over to his side, say a few sweet words give a few gifts and BOOM you have a very lovestruck magicks user who will soften up your image and potentially a useful ally. She’s essentially his Livia Cardew and as in my rewrite Zane 100% wants the Lordship of O’Khasis. He tolerates her, hell maybe he’s even a bit fond of her but he does not LOVE her, because he can’t. This version of Zane has had every negative trait enhanced and every positive one strangled and torn to shreds thanks to his father. He couldn’t love Kiki.

But Kiki loves him.

So when she finds out she’s pregnant she’s happy! She thinks she’s going to get married and have a child with someone who she thinks loves her why wouldn’t she be. So she sends a letter telling him all about it and doesn’t question why his next letter takes twice as long to arrive or how short it is. By the time he sends the next one it’s as if it never happened, he’s even giving her gifts and money for the baby promising he’ll be back soon. It’s only after the gang goes through the Irene portal does she start to question if he ever actually loved her. Kiki never stops loving her daughter and she wouldn’t trade anything in the world for her, she just wise the rose-colored glasses wore off sooner. I don’t think it’s a perfect solution, but I think it’s a decent enough start until I can talk to some people

But one more thing that’s swooping back round to the Falconclaw region.

How is Leona a werewolf

Basically in my version is because Leona just so happened to have parents who both have a VERY recessive werewolf gene and when they had a baby, that baby turned out to be a werewolf. Kiki gets it from the side of her family from Brightport and Zane gets it from his mother because she’s a native of Falconclaw. There is a decent chunk of the population in Falconclaw has this recessive gene it’s why many of them are immune to werewolf bites and many of them have werewolf traits themselves. And yes this does mean that Garroth, Vylad and Jacob when he was alive also have this trait.  While Leona being a werewolf can make her general life a bit harder it actually benefits her growing up thanks to striking resemblance she has to Zane and Zianna. Her ears and tail make it so no one would spare more than glance at her because if they looked closer they might just find a certain family resemblance.

also have a rough page of the family tree+ what I think Kiki's full name is

[utilitycaster]

I feel like a lot of people mistake comic relief or goofiness for lack of effort or caring by the creator, and that belies a real lack of understanding of like, writing and humor and art in general.

[erinwantstowrite]

hey chapter 15, why are you at 10,000 words when i've only written the first scene? hey chapter 15??? hello??

[mentally-a-slut]

this is not a drill, through out my seemingly endless flare up of my multitude of illnesses, i have returned to my roots of aphmau's mcd and mystreet. i am obsessed. i want to grab these minecraft men by the face and smooch them to death.

they are all i can think about. i am having daydreams about writing fic for them. these stupid fucking block men are ruining my life once again.

someone please stop me before i start yet another full length fanfic about them PLEASE HELP ME.

[hypertranced]

you know what I wouldve loved? in act 1 instead of isha being involved at all it was vi who protected jinx from caitlyn. them fighting and vi's heart clearly not really being in it. vi not wanting to be the one to land the final blow, but wanting to at least be there for her sisters final moments.

caitlyn lines up the shot, it'll be said and done soon. but when caitlyn pulls the trigger vi's instincts kick in. she moves without thinking, sprinting and launching herself at jinx, her shield activating as she tackles her. jinx looking at her with confusion and a little love as vi protects her with her body once the shield goes down.

caitlyn gets pissed and starts to aim her gun at vi, angering jinx who sets off the gas attack on piltover. jinx tries to grab vi as the air blows viciously around them but she can't get a proper grasp, sending vi and cait into the pipes as jinx screams for vi.

caitlyn in a rage at the fact that vi would go against her to protect her sister with vi being like well what the hell did you expect? you want to kill her for your mom. I saved her because she's my sister. the caitvi fallout would be much more interesting if it was because vi simply couldn't go along with caitlyns wants the way she thought she could. vi choosing her family at the risk of losing the connection with the woman who freed her.

cait could still hit her with her rifle and leave but instead of vi crying on the ground like a kicked puppy she writhes for a bit, cursing caitlyn out with misty eyes as she flees. vi gets angry, at caitlyn for even daring to aim at her after vi ignored her morals and convictions for her, at herself for even doing so in the first place. how could she ever think some piltie would matter more to her than her sister?

instead of vi's pitfighter era she has a vigilante era. her prowling the streets protecting those who are in desperate need of a helping hand. utilizing her shield instead of her fists. looking everywhere she can for jinx, unaware that jinx has been doing the same thing.

jinx hears rumors of a girl with heavy gauntlets on the streets of zaun and knows immediately who it is. she stalks her, confirming for herself that the rumors are true, vi has gone back to her roots of being a protector. the vi and jinx reunion arc would flow much nicely in this case

[simplydnp]

There’s something so beautifully heartbreaking about the man who’s so anti fate/destiny being forced to believe in those things bc he has someone that loves him so deeply and unbelievably 🥺🥺🥺🥺

see, i don't think it's just that someone loves his whole, authentic self. i think it's that he loves them back. equally. it's that they're in this together and it feels like they always have been. it's how life never started for him before this. it's that love is nebulous and unfathomable and unreachable, and yet, he's gotten a taste. it's that, when the universe was created, every single neutron in existence was formed. and all the ones that eventually became you and me, were together. what explanation do you have for praying to a god that's not listening to fix you, to take this all away, to make you better--and someone offers you a hand. and a smile. and sure they help you up but you climbed out of there goddammit. you put this work in, side by side. you've fought every battle together. faced every crowd. sacrificed. and you're coming up on spending more life on earth with them than without. and without thinking or asking; you've already got the next twenty planned. how can you rationalize the fact that you were on the same planet, at the same time, in the same place, if it wasn't meant to be? there's billions of people here and there's been billions before. but your person knows you better than you know yourself. and you love them more than anything. how can you ignore that they're your perfect half--from interests to opinions to humour. how do you miss the way a room lights up with both of you there. how it feels like magic. and no one else will ever understand. how can you stop the feeling in your chest. of when you know in every universe, you'd end up here.

you can't.

[rexonalapis]

it is very telling that average genshin players cannot comprehend seeing an actual mature, qualified leader that is actually good at taking her job seriously after meeting archons who either is still childish, clowning whimsically, or straight up incompetent.

[harukamitsuki]

man. spinner and shoji were two characters that i really enjoyed and wanted to see more of... until i did get to see more of them and horikoshi stomped on my dreams...

spinner goes from being one of the best characters to being ridiculously one-dimensional. the heroes don't do jack shit, until it's revealed at the last second that they did, meaning that everything the 'bad guys' did was ultimately useless. kurogiri being in a hospital made no sense; the guy is a high-ranking villain who is far too useful to the villains to give up, he should be in a highly secure location like tartarus. shoji goes from being someone who i really enjoyed to being someone with ignorant beliefs, despite him accusing his friends of being such people.

seriously, shoji's rant on how the 'people from the city' wouldn't understand because they 'had it easy'. NEWSFLASH: discrimination happens everywhere. yes, it's a lot more rampant outside of cities, but it still exists within a city. heck, i had someone scream racial slurs at me while i was walking home, and i live in a big city. to say that someone had it easy just because you had it worse is a horrible thing to say, especially when it's coming from someone who is supposed to be empathetic.

this is not shoji's beliefs. this is horikoshi's beliefs. he could have easily had shoji say something like 'you have had it hard. that being said, people are more willing to turn to extremes outside of the city'.

also, shoji's whole 'violence to get what you want never works out!!' is wrong. i'm not saying from a moral standpoint - that's perfectly fine. but it's historically wrong. yes, there are such a thing as peaceful protests, but they have never worked out as well as those that fight violence with violence. blm riots, for example, were the thing to force the government to take a closer look at why people were rioting and do things to prevent more property damage.

another thing i found troubling was how the mutants became enraged at a person of colour, specifically black, for trying to intervene and empathise with them, screaming that he could not understand. it's supposed to imply that racism wasn't a concern after quirks emerged, as people found other things to discriminate.

which is... very idealistic. if that were something people would really do, then racism wouldn't be a thing after sexism came to light. and neither of them would exist after the lgbt or the neurodivergent. but that's not what happened.

if someone else arises that people could discriminate upon, people would just add that to the list of things to discriminate on.

horikoshi could have drawn anyone for the mutants to yell at. he chose to use a person of colour. it comes off as very tone-deaf and it was just another sign that the mini-arc would screw up.

spinner losing his mind was bad. as in bad-bad. as in, there were so many ways to write this fight, and he chose this? instead of being a battle of ideaologies, it's shoji convincing the rest to step down, then trying to beat a mind-less spinner.

it could have been one of the best fights, with shoji's belief that using violence to solve your issues will only make it worse, and spinner arguing that using violence is the only way to do it with the state of their society.

no matter who won, in that case, it would be ultimately up to the readers to decide who truly won. who had the stronger argument, who made the more sense, all that jazz...

instead, shoji yells at a bunch of people about how 'destroying property isn't good' and 'violence is never the answer', all the while using violence to subdue him.

that could have been could, if it was commented on. if there were some sort of self-awareness.

but it's not and there is none. it went from being an arc i was really looking forward to reading, to something i can no longer stand.

shoji. spinner. you were both done so dirty

[bayetea]

to be honest I think the fact that a very significant proportion of people found jason/his povs to be uniquely boring is more evidentiary of a writing flaw than something being wrong with the readers who felt that way

[moonchild-in-blue]

The difference in tone between Emergence and the other two singles is so jarring when you listen to them back to back. On one second you're ascending to the 9th realm with Miss Gabi Rose's sax solo, on the other you're clutching your chest on the floor like a wounded animal of prey. Fun stuff.

[patolemus]

double-whammie wip (not) wednesday

got tagged by @novasillies (still freaking out over their current wip update!!) and i have a bit of the newest chapter for my time travel au to share

“Hey, Stiles?” he calls out to the older boy. Stiles hums distractedly, and Derek knows he’s not really listening to him, too caught up in whatever he’s doing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Stiles says. His back is turned to Derek, and he spends a moment appreciating the way Stiles’ muscles shift underneath the fitted shirt he has on as he mixes up his herbs. Stiles still doesn’t look like he’s paying all that much attention to him, but oh well. Derek will take what he can get.

He props himself up with his right forearm, half sitting as he puts his weight on it. “You like me, right?” he asks, sounding calm even though his heart has started beating faster and faster by the second. Derek doesn’t regret asking, though.

Stiles goes taut almost as soon as the question registers. He doesn’t turn around so he can’t see what kind of face he’s making, and his scent doesn’t betray anything, but Derek knows better than to trust it when he knows Stiles knows ways to manipulate it. After a few moments, though, his posture relaxes again and he goes back to mixing up things in the mortar.

“Yeah. Of course I do,” Stiles says. There’s a sort of vulnerability, a softness in his voice, and Derek feels his heart soar. 

He didn’t lie. Stiles didn’t lie. He likes Derek, Stiles likes Derek.

Don’t fuck this up, he thinks, only a little desperate as he tries to keep his heart under control. Not for the first time, he thanks whatever higher being is looking out for him, because if Stiles could hear how fast his heart is racing right now he’d think Derek is the lamest person ever. Which he is, but Stiles doesn’t need to know that.

“Cool,” he says, immediately regretting it. Cool? Who the fuck says cool to something like that? “I mean, I like you, too,” he adds hastily, fully sitting up as Stiles finally turns around.

“I know,” there’s the ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips and mirth in his eyes.

Derek starts to smile, then frowns. “Did you just Han Solo me?” he asks, not knowing what to feel when Stiles just bursts out laughing right there and then.

It’s a beautiful laugh. It takes his breath away. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever heard Stiles laugh like this before. Chuckle, maybe, definitely an amused huff here and there. But never an outright laugh like this one. Derek wants to hear it forever, wants to record it so he can play it back again and again and again, all the time.

He’s so gone on this boy. So, so gone. Derek feels overwhelmed by the sudden rush of affection that overcomes him, a hot, fluttery thing that leaves him tingly all over.

couldn't not do the star war's reference i mean IT WAS RIGHT THERE. anywayssss take the rare angst-free scene. no pressure tags: @dontcallpanic @hedwig221b @salty-fryingpan @oldefashioned @endwersed @dear-massacre and of course anyone who wants to do it

[weskie]

To Make Your Heart Sing (Albert Wesker x ftm!Reader)

3556 words, fluff, hurt/comfort, s.t.a.r.s. wesker, ftm!reader, top surgery mention, coming out, main character injury, soft wesker, established relationship | Fic Directory

some truths are simply hard to tell. still, they must be told

You tried your best to keep things under wraps.  

RCPD’s human resources department knew of your ‘condition,’ but the file that landed on Captain Wesker’s desk a year and a half ago mentioned nothing of it.  You were just, well, you.  And that’s all you needed to be.  You were hired and the rest was history.

Or it was supposed to be.  Instead, you found yourself getting into the best of trouble.  Make no mistake, Captain Wesker intimidated you to no end.  Suppose that’s why the first time you turned a corner and the both of you knocked into each other left you a stuttering mess while you tried desperately to help him pick up the stack of paper he’d been holding.  The other officers who had been in the adjacent break room had the luxury of watching with bated breath to see him chew you a new one for such a careless mistake.

But he didn’t. 

The next was when you’d overcooked your food in the microwave, leading to a loud, wet pop and spaghetti sauce all over the insides of the machine. To your embarrassment, your captain was beside the coffee pot, brow arched just above the rim of his sunglasses as you sputtered and chuckled your apologies for both the mess and the noise.

You could’ve sworn he smiled.

Then there was that day you’d been running late.  You called the precinct from your clunky Nokia, begging for forgiveness from your captain.  As a peace offering, you offered to bring him coffee from a local shop, stating that it was “so much better than the liquid tar in the break room.”  His silence had scared you half to death, but his acceptance carried the strangest hint of amusement.  Black with two sugars, he’d told you.  When you’d finally arrived and delivered it, he took it directly from you, fingers brushing yours and making your cheeks light up.

That was the first time you’d ever seen more than a miniscule smirk on his face.  

Not to mention that time you’d pulled overtime and, upon entering to deliver yet another report, you’d found Wesker with his head resting atop his folded arms on the desk.  To this very day, you still had no idea what came over you to retrieve your S.T.A.R.S. jacket from your desk and drape it over his back.  You’d returned the next day to find it neatly folded atop your desk with a sticky note that simply said ‘Thank you.’

When the day came that he cornered you in the break room, black coffee with two sugars in hand from another one of your late mornings, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“I want to take you on a date.” 

Your eyes practically fell out of your head and your cheeks went up in flames.  You were stunned.  Captain Wesker was into men?  Not only that, but he was into you? You didn’t know what to say, what to do– anything.  You must have sat there blinking with your mouth agape for minutes before he’d finally just hummed, snagged a napkin and wrote his number down for you.

“If you find it agreeable, call this number later.  We can… work out the details then.”  

Looking back on it, he seemed just as nervous in that moment as you felt.  Not that you could blame him.  You figured he must have observed you for a long time to gauge if you’d be receptive to advances from another man, but the risk was still high– rejection, risk of harassment accusations… all sorts of bad outcomes must have been weighing on his mind.  But, that night, you called him.  Awkward as it had been, you both settled on a restaurant an hour outside of the city to reduce the chances of you two being seen by the others from the station, and the rest?  Well, it had progressed slow and steady, but your secret relationship with Captain Wesker, now simply Albert to you when appropriate, had entered its third month.

Which is why you’d grown nervous.

You didn’t know how to tell him.  At some point, things would progress beyond warm kisses and tender touches.  At some point your… anatomy was going to matter.  You wish you would’ve told him before all of this began and saved yourself the potential heartache of losing what had been the sweetest, gentlest relationship you’d ever had.  You worried yourself sick about it, always careful never to wear tank tops or shirts bright or thin enough that the tone of your chest scars could show through.  Your testosterone shots were easy enough to hide, thankfully.

Albert had been nothing less than a pure gentleman throughout it all, never once pushing your boundaries or showing impatience when you’d shy away from things.  Even the night you’d both fallen asleep on your bed consisted of little more than a hand resting atop the small of your back and your face nuzzled against the comforting rise and fall of his chest.

But, try as you might to hide it, Wesker had picked up on your anxieties.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”  

Your heart fell through the floor the night he’d asked that.  You swore up and down over and over again that it was nothing he’d done and that you were just dealing with something that you didn’t know how to put into words.  He accepted your answer without question, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and continued reading the file he'd brought home from work.

Your mind always turned to thoughts of how you were going to tell him, distracting you at the worst times.  Which, of course, put you in a situation where you had no choice in how the truth would come out.

The bulletproof vest had saved your life– for the most part, that is.  Gunmen in a hostage situation had released a young girl, sending her out to run toward the blockade.  She was to be a message, clearly, because they fired at her as soon as she got close.

You bolted out to cover her, mind devoid of sense the very moment you saw one of the men emerge from the building.

You took two to the chest with the first simply lodging into the center of your vest.  The other managed to pierce, embedding in your right pectoral.  You’d laid between squad cars and the steps to the bank for god knows how long, shaking fingers applying as much pressure to your wound as you could muster while the sun beat down on you without mercy.  The next thing you knew, you were being thrown into an ambulance and given the good stuff, and you woke up after who knows how long in a hospital bed.

Your first visitors were Rebecca and Jill.  You’d grown closer with them than most of the others– save for Wesker, of course.

“How are you feeling?”

You simply answer Jill with a lopsided smile and a hum, tipping your head back against the pillow.  “Mm, yup.”

“I don’t think the pain meds have worn off yet,” Rebecca giggles from across the room where she inspects the whiteboard covered with hastily scribbled patient information.

“Lucky him.  Should let Captain Wesker know he’s at least feeling good when we go back.  He’s…”  Jill turns to you with a sweet smile, clearly pondering her words.  “Distraught is a… is a word for how he is right now..”

That, of course, breaks your heart.  He was there when it happened.  Albert saw you go down.  Silly you, covering the girl they’d released…

Your eyelids grow heavier as time goes by, eventually slipping shut while you bask in their company.  When they open again, you’ve got two nurses at your bedside.  Even in your dazed state, you can put two and two together.  Just a change of bandages…

“Hi, sweetheart!” Chirps the woman closest to you while she peels away tape and gauze.  “You bled through so we’re just cleaning you up, okay?”

You simply nod and stare up at the ceiling.  It doesn’t hurt, thankfully, and the only thing you feel is cold air on your chest.  Part of you shudders.  Medical settings could be… complicated with your unique condition.  But you try not to anticipate the worst.

Oh how wrong you are.

“You can come in,” says the other nurse.  “Just replacing his bandages.  We’ll be out in a few.”

The hum in response yanks you from whatever blissful stupor the pain meds had lulled you into and you shoot up in the bed, shocking the nurse tending your wound.

“Careful, baby! You’ll tear your stitches–”

You barely hear her, nor do you feel her hands attempting to coax you back to the bed.  You go down, but not before locking eyes with your one and only.

Fuck…

They’ve got the top of your gown off and there’s no way–

You swallow thickly as your throat closes with a wave of shame.  You shut your eyes to hide the tears gathering within them, listening intently as Wesker’s nearly silent footsteps come to a halt on the other side of your bed.  He sees you.  There’s no way he doesn’t.  He’ll have questions.  Fuck, maybe he’ll just know outright.  Wesker’s a smart man…

You should’ve told him.

You keep your eyes screwed shut for what feels like eternity, even after the door clicks and the nurses leave you to each other’s company.  Neither of you says a word and it’s nearly pure silence until you hear the drag of a chair.  You just about jump out of your skin when his fingertips graze your knuckles, but they don’t retreat.  Instead, he takes your hand in his, lifts it, and presses kiss after kiss to it.

Your eyes crack open, vision bleary from tears and clearing as they spill.  You find him looking at you with furrowed brows and some painful combination of worry and relief written across his face.  His glasses are hooked on his shirt, showing you icy blues with a touch of red in the surrounding scleras. 

“How do you feel?”  His voice is as calm as ever, but, for once, his expression betrays him.

“Like I got shot,” you rasp.  You crack the tiniest smile despite the swirling dread and anxiety filling you to the brim.  You observe him for a minute, looking for something, anything to confirm your fears.

You find nothing.

“Indeed,” he hums, lips twitching at the corners.  “I’m glad you’re in good spirits despite the tears.”

You give a weepy chuckle that turns to tight sobs.  You feel so helpless and pathetic.  You’d almost died and now your little secret had been put on wide display for him.  Part of you figures this is just the universe’s way of telling you to get on with it.  Just finally rip the bandaid off.

You suddenly start to rise from your flat position.  Wesker watches you for signs of discomfort, taking his finger off the bed controls only once you were upright and–

Oh fuck– no, no, no!

They hadn’t buttoned your gown earlier.  The front section falls forward and you scramble to push it back up, holding it in place as you clench your eyes shut and bite your tongue.  His hand leaves yours and your stomach drops, ice shooting through your veins. For a minute, you think he’s leaving, but then–

Snap.  Snap.  Snap.

Your eyes widen, gaze falling to the hands working to pinch together the little buttons that run along the seam at your shoulder.  Wesker leans across you just slightly to repeat the process on the other side.  His scent fills your lungs and you can’t help but take a deep, greedy breath, chin quivering all the while. 

“Would you like to stay with me while you recover?”  He asks softly, taking his seat once more.  “Or would you prefer if I stayed with you instead?”

It’s so earnest that you could scream.  Part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding the elephant in the room.

“I imagine the comfort of your own home would lend itself better to your recovery,” he continues, taking your hand in his once more. “But I am not averse to either choice.”

“Al, you don’t have to–”

“You’ll need the help.”  He says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.  “I assume you’ve had restrictions like this before.”

That cold feeling runs through your body again. He’s not avoiding it.   

“Yeah…”  

And he’s completely right.  You will need help.  You doubt your restrictions will be as tight as those you had after top surgery, but you did take a bullet to the chest.  Two, technically…

“I want you to think about it.”  Wesker checks his watch as he speaks, rising from his chair with a small huffed breath.  “My break is nearly over, but I’ll try to come by again before visitation hours end.  You should rest some more.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow once again, eyes fixed on him as he pushes the chair back to its original spot.  Wesker approaches your bedside again, hand raising to rest against the side panel controls.

“Up or down?”  He asks, voice soft.

“Mm, somewhere in between please.”  

Your eyes lock with his as you descend.  That same tenderness still dances in his gaze– the kind he saves for you and you alone.  Despite the tendrils of anxiety tugging at your mind, you find such an act soothes you to the core.  Wesker breaks eye contact for a split second to glance behind himself, ever the private man he is, and he leans over you.  His lips press to your forehead first, warm and soft, and his right hand rises to your cheek to thumb at the curve.  He holds that position for a moment, breaking it only to press another to your lips.

“Hm,” he hums, breaking away to glance at the monitor.  He chuckles softly.  “Your heart rate just jumped.”

Oh god, you think it yourself.  You can practically feel your cheeks go up in flames, but you giggle nonetheless at his cheeky little observation.  “Well, you know… handsome blonde guys named Albert do that to me.”

He leaves with a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, much to your satisfaction.

They keep you at the hospital for another full day just to be safe.  Wesker spent his lunch break with you again, during which he reminded you that he would absolutely be aiding you while you’re under physical restrictions– you need only pick the place.  He’d been positive your own home would be better, so that’s what you opted for.  

Much to your joy, you weren’t excessively limited.  No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity– all the usuals.  You were to have two full weeks off before returning to simple desk duty.  Wesker picked you up, duffel bag of his necessities already packed in the back seat of his car, and brought you home.  Things were stellar until you realized he wanted to do just about every little thing for you, convinced you would cause yourself further harm.  Cooking was out of the question, so he made you meals that you could’ve sworn belonged in a gourmet restaurant rather than your little apartment. And laundry?  Forget about it.  You practically had to wrestle a handful of socks and towels from him so that you could feel less like a deadbeat.  Wound care, though… that was where things got tricky.  Wesker insisted that he be the one to change your bandages, and he did so twice a day, which was more often than was even recommended.

“I said I would take care of you.  What kind of partner would I be if I let you walk around in old bandages, hm?” 

It had been hard to let him do it.  Despite knowing full well he had a clear view of your chest in the hospital, you were still apprehensive to let him see it again.  No questions had been raised in regard to the origin of your scars, but that was somehow worse.  For a time, you figured he chalked it up to some sort of wound obtained in the field, but the day came where his hands wandered and a fingertip trailed the line running beneath your left pectoral.

“I…” You try, swallowing thickly to quell your nerves.

“Tell me about them.” Wesker breathes, finger still running along the ridge, pausing over the parts that weren’t quite perfect.

The worst part of everything?  You know full well you could just walk away and he’d leave it.  Al never pries; he always respects your boundaries.  'No' has always been a complete sentence to him, something you’ve appreciated endlessly in your time together with him.  But, all the same, wasn’t it time you gave an inch?  The man so endlessly patient and sweet to you, despite how he presents himself to the rest of the world, deserved the truth.

So you spill.

“I’m transgender…”  You murmur, words tight in your throat as you stare down to your socked feet.  From there, the rest falls free.  Every little detail.  Childhood woes, adulthood struggles– how happy you were the day you got your very first shot of testosterone and how you felt like you had a new lease on life itself when you woke up from your chest surgery all those years ago.  A tear or two escapes you as you tell your tale, but they’re not the bad kind.  No… they come from something else entirely.  A joy you could never put to words, a cresting wave of pride that you’ve come so far and lived so well despite every bump in the road, a sense of self that felt like wings upon your back…  With every story, you find yourself meeting his gaze more often until you’re looking right into those icy blues.

If Albert is dissatisfied with your revelation, he doesn’t show it.  Instead, he stands before you and listens intently to every word.  Without his glasses, you can see his eyes soften at certain parts, but it's the way his hand doesn’t quite leave from where he’d touched your scar before that keeps you hopeful throughout the entire ordeal.

“And I– I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just…” You exhale hard, eyes dropping with the weaning of that miracle burst of confidence.  “Telling people is… difficult.”

“Did you think I would react badly?”

You didn’t expect such a question, let alone for it to be asked so gently.  “I… yes and no.”  You chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder the way to best explain it to him.  “Not everyone is kind about it.  I didn’t think– it wasn’t that I thought you’d be mean about it, I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I was lying to you…”

Wesker’s eyes flit to the side for a brief second.  “I understand.  Though I fail to see how you would’ve lied.”

At that, you let out a breathy little laugh, eyes closing as you shake your head.  “So you’re okay with it?”  You ask finally, hand rising to rest over his that still lingered at your chest.  The anxiety returns and you worry the side of your lower lip between your canines.

“I am,” Wesker hums, offering you perhaps the softest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen grace his face.  His free hand reaches for the one that hangs loose by your side, holding it tenderly as he leans forward.  At first you think he’s going for a kiss, which you happily prepare for, but he presses his forehead to yours.  You allow your eyes to flutter shut, same as him.  “I’m afraid you’ve stolen my heart, my dear.” He pauses for a moment, brushing his nose against yours. “You are who you are.  I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

At that, there’s simply no helping the way you throw yourself at him, arms wrapping around him as tight as you can without agitating your wound.  He returns your embrace immediately, palms stroking up and down the length of your back, perfectly warm against your skin.  

There’s one last thing to tell him.  Something that’s been in your heart for a while now.  He deserves every truth from you, and you’re all too happy to give it to the man who assigns you heaps of reports at work and makes your heart sing at home.

“I love you.”  You murmur against his collar, smiling big and wide at how his arms tighten around you.  “I really, really love you.”

“Good,” he hums.  Wesker rests his chin atop your head, swaying slightly as if to music that wasn’t there.  “Because I really, really love you, too.”

You giggle at his mimicry, but, in truth, you’re overflowing with joy.  It’s as if the sun itself has risen in your chest to hear those words, but that is simply the effect Wesker has on you.

What bliss to know you warm his heart the same.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Some doodles of my aus' G-men

[lucius-i-ran]

The sound of a basketball going through the hoop, cheers rising, slaps on the shoulder and laughs. The air was nose-numbing and Will was actually convinced he caught a glimpse of Frosty the Snowman strolling around but all he and his friends needed was some extra sweater, a gallon of warm, rigorously unsweetened tea and the sun shining on their backs.

"Do something with that damn ball, Solace! My shoes will freeze on the damn floor"

Heavy breaths, steps and soles grating the ground. 

"Shut up, Cecil" a frustrated huff parted Will's lips, his breath suddenly visible. Will had always been good at athletics and generally physical stuff. He was a marvel in P.E. and he basically grew up on meemaw's farm doing all sorts of chores; but damn Cecil needed to give him a break. He had only been playing basket for three months. 

He was a wonder alright, but not that much.

Will looked at the basketball in his red and unnaturally warm fingers. In a confused and irritated jam, he tossed the ball, a little too hard, not clear what he was aiming for. 

It went over the edge of the field. It bounced once, then a second time, then a third one, out of their sight and "Ow!" a small voice whined.

A blissfull but brief moment of silence had the nearby tree nymphs thanking the gods; but a basketball field full of eleven year olds can only be silent for so much time.

"Go get the ball" Cecil demanded

"Why me?" Will barked back 

"You tossed it there on purpose!" 

"No I didn't!"

"Then you're a ham!"

"Am not"

"Totally are" 

Will felt his freckled cheeks get hotter 

"I'll go just b'cause I know that if I stay here I'm g'nna have t'hurt you" and he went searching for the ball, stomping his feet (and almost eating it because of the icy floor).

Of course, being the caring and thoughtful healer that he was (and that no one appreciated) he didn't forget about the poor guy that had to suffer the might of Will's absolutely calculated toss. After retrieving the basketball, he followed the direction of that tiny, high-pitched voice.

On the grass, just behind the public restrooms nearby, a small boy sat with figurines and cards scattered in front of him. His small and olive hand place on his head, massaging his jet black hair.

Will cleared his voice and sniffled "Sorry"

The boy looked at him with a little pout and a line crossing right bewteen the furrowed brows.

"You okay?" 

The boy nodded, his face muscles relaxing a bit.

Will knew he had a relaxing effect on people. Mostly. Probably. 

"Basketballs are pretty hard, they can really rattle your head y'know. You sure you don't want an ice packet?" Will got concerned in real Apollo kid style.

The boy shook is head. 

"You new here?" 

He nodded again.

"Hey Solace! The game isn't over" Kayla yelled from the field. Will looked down at the freezing cold basketball in his hands and then over at the boy.

A scarf made of thick red wool was covering most of his face, but Will could still see his bright red cheeks from the cold. He looked like how Will pictured the orphan boys from Charles Dickens's books his momma used to read him. He couldn't have been that far from Will's age. He remembered so much from his first weeks on Camp, alone and miserable. Will also remembered how his siblings and friends had been patient and kind enough to warm him up, going unimaginable distances to welcome him in the family. 

He tossed the ball back at his friends.  "You go on without me" he yelled back. 

Questioning glances and shoulder shrugs were shared but Will could not give two hoots and sticked a hand out to the boy.

"William Andrew Solace, Apollo Cabin, age 11 and blood type B. Everyone calls me Will, pleasure to meet you" he bared his teeth in a wide smile, like he always did.

The boy studied it for a while "My sister told me not to speak with strangers when she's not here" 

The boy got a funny little accent. Will liked that and mentally checked one little box on his imaginary Things I Could Bond Over With The Newbie list.

"Well.. where is she?" Will quickly understood that the question stung a little, because the little line between his brows was back.

"On a" he put two fingers up and mimed quotes  " 'quest'. With strangers" he strongly concluded.

"So what are you gonna do, not talk to anyone until she comes back?" 

Will could basically hear the thoughts in the boy's black haired head, like one could hear an old computer's fan. Then, after pondering for quite a while, the boy hesitantly took Will's hand and shook it. "Niccolò Marco di Angelo. or- ah.. Nico. I'm not sure what cabin yet" he looked down at his game "and uhm.. blood".

Will looked down at the game, too. "Whatch'ya playing?" 

"Mythomagic" 

"What's that?" 

A glint flashed in Nico's eyes, like had been waiting centuries for someone to ask him. "It's this, like, super cool card game where, like, you have cards with gods and- and monsters and they have powers and points. Best game ever" he sniffled from the cold "You can even collect figurines!" He studied the plastic little guys spreaded out and finally reached for one "This is the Apollo one" 

Will, like the massive nerd he was, could only take it and stare in awe "Cool.." he whispered.

"You can keep it, if you want to" 

"Seriously? I couldn't- I mean.. it's yours"

Nico shrugged "It's okay, Apollo is not the rarest one. I've got like three of him. I've been searching for the Hades one for a while, though"

"Thanks.." Will muttered and he studied the figurine a little more. "It's like Yu-gi-Oh!" 

Nico grew that little wrinkle between his brows again, like Will just blubbered the most deranged sequence of words to ever be uttered  "You do what?" 

"You're not from here, are you?" 

Nico looked in the distance, like he was trying to recall something "I'm not sure" 

If both their attention span could be measured and summed, on a scale of one to ten the number would probably not go over 0.8; consequently, the topic was forgotten just as quickly as it was introduced. 

"Why are you playing behind the bathrooms, though? People play games on the lunch tables all the time" 

Nico got a little pout. 

"I did! But some kids said I was lame and playing with dolls. They called me a nerd. I don't even know what that means!" 

"I bet it was the Stolls" Will squinted and seethed between his teeth. 

"Connor and Travis?" 

Will nodded and just as quickly, Nico vigorously shook his head like his life depended on defending the Stoll's honor. "No, they would never do that! I think they like blackjack better but they never teased me" 

"Well, that's weird. Last time me and my friends played DnD they picked on us for like a month! How can you come up with at least forty jokes a day, everyday, for thirty days straight?" Will shook his head and threw his hands in the air in exasperation "The Hermes kids, I swear"

Nico got a pout again, this time it was a little more sorrowful "If my sister was here, she would have totally kicked their butt" he sighed "She's awesome, you know" 

"Something happened to her?" 

"Nothing! I mean, I think nothing happened. She just went on this quest, alright? But I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen" 

Will made a face that said 'yeah, tell me about it' "I understand, y'know" he said "It's the worst when my siblings go on missions. It's scary, but they always come back" he smiled, reassuringly. 

Then Will felt the warmth from the imaginary light bulb that appeared on his head. "You should come play DnD with us. You'd love it!" Will wasn't sure actually. Mythomagic sounded almost nothing like Dungeons and Dragons, but this Nico di Angelo kid looked friendly and nerdy enough. 

"What's that?" 

"It's this game where you meet with a bunch of friends and you go on, like, this cool imaginary adventure where you explore dungeons and, you know.. you fight dragons. You also get to create your own character!" 

Nico's eyes lit up "Sweet"

Will thought anyone with an average level of social skills would understand how definitely not convincing the proposal sounded, but Nico must have been a real, huge nerd or very, very lonely. The two didn't mutually exlude each other. 

"We meet every friday in the Dionysius cabin at five in the afternoon"

Nico nodded and Will started to get up 

"Great! See you then, di Angelo. Oh and, try to be on time, the harpies are not that nice to demigods up past the curfew"

5:08 p.m. Will and his friends were all there but no signs of Nico. 

"C'mon Will, it's freezing"

"I'm sure he's coming, Kayla. He just got here, so maybe he got lost" 

His sister shook her braided head. She wasn't there to play DnD. She was nothing like the nerdy type to get into stuff like this, actually. She was more like the jocks that shoved guys like Will in lockers. Will was actually very much surprised her dad got her to see Star Wars; he was even more surprised when he found out she liked it almost as much as he did. Almost. It was difficult to reach Will's level.

Kayla was just kind enough to escort Will to the Dionysius cabin so that the other kids knew better than to tease.

Steps were heard from behind. It was one of the kids he was supposed to be playing with ten minutes ago. "Ten minutes, Solace!" she scolded "We're giving you another ten, then we start without you" 

5:16 p.m. and no sign of Nico di Angelo. 

Will waited around another minute. For some reason a horrible feeling of dread grasped his stomach, like something awful happened and he so desperately wanted to see Di Angelo come out of the light blizzard to ease all of his bad thoughts. 

He tried to ignore the cold slipping into his coat, cupping his hands in front of his mouth and blowing some hot air, clinging onto hope until the very last minute. 

Eventually, feeling his nose falling off from his face, he got inside. 

The warmth engulfed him but that bitter feeling in his stomach didn't melt away.

"Isn't di Angelo that sandwich place on 62nd?"

"I heard he had a fight" 

Three days had passed from friday and Nico di Angelo was still missing. For some reason Percy, Grover and Annabeth pushed for the best demigods to go with them, searching for him.

And they did. They went on without pauses, three days and not only the little guy disappeared from the face of the earth, but nothing seemed to get them to track him. No traces, no footsteps, no nothing.

It was like he just dissolved into thin air. With monsters roaming around and Luke's army on the hunt, that couldn't have been a good sign.

Will really tried to push back those thoughts, at least for Christmas dinner, but some of his siblings just came back from a fresh gossip session with the Aphrodite cabin and they were on a roll. 

"A fight?" 

"Yeah, with Percy Jackson" 

Michael Yew shook his head "The kid was ten" 

"Is" Will corrected, his voice cold but faint. 

Nico di Angelo was just one year younger than him and the sole thought that he might be dead made Will's stomach churn. 

"Sorry, Will" Michael said as an awkward silence spreaded on the Apollo table. Will's mind settled for a minute, thinking that he might have escaped his siblings's absolutely necessary insights and evaluations but boy, was he wrong.

"Don't underestimate the kid, Mike. You see that crack in the floor?" the table turned around to look at the dent in the marble floor. All the table but Will. He kept looking at the nothing straight ahead like his head was glued in place. "Apparently he caused it. People have been doing theories and stuff and I heard some kids say that most likely he is the son of.. you know" the son of Apllo pointed downwards.

"The table?" 

"No, nimrod" the he mouthed 'Hades'. 

A grim silence fell on the table again and Will's stomach dropped. He really wanted to doubt that was true; after all, demigod speculation was a dangerous thing but everyone on camp knew it was mostly empty talk. Right then, however, all proof looked like it in favour of the empty chatter.

And if that were to be true- and if the other side got to find out-

Will felt panic starting to bubble against his throat.

Austin shook his head this time. "We all know and trust Percy. I do, for sure. I mean, he has his moments but he's a good guy" he chimed in "What could have he possibly done?"

"Beats me, but some people have heard it has got to do with Di Angelo's sister. And guess what? She's dead. Now, I'm not saying Percy Jackson killed the poor gal but y'know, to get that reaction you must-" 

Will couldn't take it anymore. He slammed two hands on the table, making some of his siblings jump. Heads from other tables turned but he didn't care and left, anger and panic stirring in his chest in an uncomfortably familiar storm. The sly chattering behind his back didn't help.

"He's too sensitive"

"Or maybe you're too much if an ass" Kayla yelled.

"Honestly, you're so tone deaf" He heard Lee's cold voice cutting the air "A girl died and most likely so did her brother-" he lowered his voice  "her ten year old brother. Just one year younger than Will and you're here, eating your stupid fucking Christmas dinner, talking like it's gossip! You know what?"

His voice faded with the strong wind rising before Will could 'what' but the cold and the tears stung his eyes, so he concluded that right then and there he had bigger problems to solve.

Nico di Angelo was not dead and he had to find him.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

next part

- this, along with all my future solangelo posts, goes out to you bestie @nicodisigma -