#please do not talk in the prev manner to me

[tinydefector]

Hooray!!! Omg i’m so happy lol. I’m definitely going to be smiling for the rest of my day. I finally had time to think about it and how about a platonic familial scenario with mtmte magnus and the ambassador on break and casually chatting, fluff please. let me know if you need more details, and take your time <3

(i’ve been having data problems so hopefully this ask sends through 😅)

Out of the bag - human effects

I had so much fun writing this Buddee and I hope you like it!.

Word count 1.6k

Ultra Magnus x human reader

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________________

The ambassador sat quietly working through files while on the desk, fingers pinching their temple as they re-read the text. A hot drink beside them as they worked. Ultra Magnus sat at the desk as he too worked. It would have been rather funny to look at, A large alien robot sitting at his desk working while his co-worker who was much smaller sat on the same desk on their own seat with a desk. They looked almost like they were a toy figure. 

They take a sip of their drink and roll their shoulders slightly. "Please tell me I don't have to fix another 15 files of Rodimus getting side tracked again and typing out random words like Chinchilla?" They mumble almost like a pray.

Ultra Magnus cycled a weary ex-vent, field rippling with long-suffering patience. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. The captain seems...incapable of submitting forms in any semblance of proper order." He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, nearly the same pose as them. an unmistakably human mannerism picked up from long acquaintance. "At this rate, reconciling his haphazard paperwork will occupy the majority of your work cycle."

Magnus observed the ambassador's flagging energy levels with mild concern. "Perhaps you should take a brief respite. Overexerting yourself serves no purpose - I can handle the captain's responsibilities for the time being."

His tone, while stern, held an undercurrent of genuine care. Despite their differences, he cared deeply for the ambassador; their well-being remained in everyone's best interests. 

"The schedules can wait. I suspect you've had enough excitement for one orn already." A hint of dryly amused. "I'll be alright Magnus, Just got a headache and sore. Really wasn't planning on dealing with reports, but it beats having to do holovids with Prowl, I want to strangle that mech some times." They reply leaning back in their seat, bringing their drink up and holding it in their hands as they close their eyes for a moment.

Prowl's combative nature makes diplomatic discourse a...trial, to say the least." He cycled another heavy ex-vent. "Though I must say, your own entanglements have proven equally...taxing, of late." Magnus leveled them with a pointed look, with a hint of mild disapproval.

"I trust you understand the risks involved, consorting so closely with the crew. Propriety and protocol exist for good reason - to maintain order and prevent compromising our mission." 

Yet beneath the stern admonishment, a thread of genuine concern shone through. "I only caution you to tread carefully, little one. The games played aboard this ship can be...treacherous, for those caught unawares."

His gaze softened marginally. "I would not see you come to harm, simply for wishing to find companionship in these trying times. Despite what you and others may think i do care about you" 

Embarrassment slowly works its way into their system as they look down as if they were a child who just got caught stealing something. "How.. how did you" they start not knowing how to continue talking. "Come now, Ambassador - did you truly think your...activities would escape my notice?" Magnus replied, a hint of wryness in tone.

He shook his helm slightly. "I may be strict, but I'm not blind. The signs were...quite evident.” Leaning back in his chair, Magnus fixed the ambassador with a measured look. "I'll not lecture you on proper conduct - Primus knows life aboard this ship is complicated enough as it is." Attempting to soothe their clear discomfort. "However, I must urge caution. Entanglements with subordinates."

They continue to look down for a moment processing his words. "I know, I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone, it just sort of happened. Told Ratchet that it was to stay on the down low, and Ratchet had the same concern about risk, he wanted to make sure if something did happen with other bots outside of him and Drift that i had someone to trust if something happened. I was just worried that if you, Rodimus or Megatron found out. My job was gone" they mumble, they were filled with so much anxiety and panic over the situation only for the mech they feared the most about it to just say he knew. 

Magnus cycled a heavy vent. "I see. That...explains certain observations, I must admit." He rubbed a servo over his faceplate. "Ratchet and Drift, of all mechs. I confess, I had not anticipated that particular entanglement."

Fixing the ambassador with a level stare, Magnus continued, "However, you needn't fear repercussions from myself or the others." A hint of wryness entered his tone. " We've all been there, at one point or another." 

They let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Magnus, and I'm making sure to look after myself. Woah just wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with you is all. You have no idea how much fear I had about you finding out about my um.. 'activities'. You bots aren't exactly subtle about your 'human fucker' content  " they state before slowly having another mouthful of their drink.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand your concern. confess, even I am not entirely immune to the temptations that arise. However, I endeavor to maintain strict protocols."  Magnus continued solemnly, "I cannot - and will not - control the personal affairs of my crew. That is a burden I do not wish to bear."

A hint of wryness entered his tone. "Though I must admit, the antics of Megatron and Rodimus have certainly tested my patience on more than one occasion. They are both very fond of you"

“I had a feeling they were. Magnus you being tempted, now that's new to me, I'm sorry they are causing you trouble” they chuckle, smiling up at him, enjoying the banter.  

"Ratchet and Drift both know I'm not interested in a relationship, it's mainly just stress relief, and i think Sunstreaker just has a bjt of a kink for someone who isn't going to scratch his paint" they confirm, making him aware of yet another bot involved. Magnus's optics widened fractionally at the mention of Sunstreaker - another unexpected development in this tangled web. "I see. So Sunstreaker as well, hmm?"

”It would appear you...ambassador has been quite diligent in cultivating a support network aboard this ship." Fixing the human with a measured look, Magnus continued, "And you are certain this...arrangement suits you? Entanglements with the crew, regardless of intent, can prove...complicated."

The nod. “Yes, I'm content and want to keep this on the down low, I don't need it getting back to my superiors on earth, nor do I need Prowl making issues of it.” They explain. In truth they were very happy with the arrangement, and felt less guilty now that they were talking with Ultra Magnus over the situation. 

"I merely wish to ensure you are not inadvertently placing yourself in jeopardy, little one." Magnus paused, considering his next words carefully. "However, if this provides you the stress relief you require, then I shall refrain from further commentary." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat impressed by your...resilience, in the face of such formidable suitors."

It makes their face fluster as they look away from him quickly. “That's not funny and you know it” they huff under their breath only for him to let out a soft rumbled noise. Shaking his helm ruefully, the Autobot commander returned his attention to the ever-present datapads. "Very well. You have my discretion and, should you need, my counsel as well."

"They have all been good to me, very respectful and accommodating. They mainly have been dead quiet about involvement because of you actually." They hum. "Well technically you, Megatron and Rodimus. You three I do look up to alot, and your opinion means alot to me. I was just worried you would have me court martialled and shipped back to earth for fraternization "

Magnus's field rippled with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. "I see." 

"While I cannot condone such...personal entanglements, I confess I am impressed by your discretion thus far. It speaks to a level of maturity and pragmatism I had not anticipated." Magnus met their gaze steadily. "You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this ship. I would not see that jeopardized, simply due to youthful indiscretions." 

With that now out of the way they sit there quietly before looking up at ultra Magnus from their spot sitting on the desk. "Could I have a hug, at the moment I can feel myself shaking from the fear and anxiety " they try to joke and make light of how afraid they were of him finding out. 

Magnus regarded the ambassador with a soft expression, field pulsing understanding. "Of course." He gently scooped them up, cradling their small frame against his chest in a rare display of tenderness. "There is no need to fear, Ambassador." His deep voice rumbled with reassurance as he lightly stroked their back.

They lean their head against his plating, relaxing against him.  "Thank you, you're a real one Magnus. No one will ever change that" Magnus rumbled softly, the vibration soothing against the ambassador's frame. "You are most welcome. I am merely doing what I believe is right."

He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring their comfort as they leaned into him. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You have earned my trust, Ambassador. That is no small feat."

With that, Magnus simply held the ambassador, allowing them the chance to find solace in the steadiness of his frame. And in truth he rather enjoyed holding them close. 

_______________

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[fuchsiadial]

guys i dont wanna reblog the same post over and over again just to have a convo, im sorry. i use tags for feedback directed at the OP, i do not expect anyone else to answer them, unless it's like... performative or something. if you wanna tell me something then please just send an ask, comment or dm. this prev tag thing is stressful to me

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) reader || Chapter: 08 ୨୧

 PREV || 08 Klepto || NEXT

Last year, the strangest sequence of events altered [Name’s] life. It was a day like any other, beginning with countless possibilities. An inevitable build-up to the perfect moment, fate, which could have led to anything, led to him.

"Akio! It's good to see you, I'm on an assignment. Could you do me a favor and answer some questions?" [Name] greeted him with a smile.

Akio scoffed in reply he looked the [h/c]-haired girl up and down. "Spare me the trouble and tell me who reported me. My dad invests a ton of money into this school... so this conversation won't get you anywhere."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't act clueless, it's annoying just cut to it." Akio yanked [Name’s] bag off her shoulder. "Unless you tell me who sent you, I won't be giving this back."

[Name] felt so out of the loop. Akio hadn't been apprehensive towards her before. "Gakushuu sent me. I only need to collect a student survey." He quickly backtracked in an attempt to cover up his self-incriminating tone "Of course he did... forget this, I don't need Asano getting mad at me for bothering his girlfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend and you don't have to be so hostile towards me, if you don't want to participate it's alright."

"Not your boyfriend?" Akio laughed as if it were the most ridiculous statement he'd heard come out of anyone's mouth. He blocked out anything else she'd said and honed in on that.

"The entire school knows the real reason you're in council."

She felt her heart sink. "Are you trying to insinuate something?"

[Name] shouldn't care, it's only a rumor. Still, it was hard not to when a good amount of the student body targeted her on how she didn't deserve her position. No one else in the Big Six had to take the backlash she did. It wasn't fair. Why did people assume the worst?

This was the first time someone had the guts to say it directly to her. She worked hard for her spot but her success was attributed to some guy going and "handing" it to her.

Just as she was about to wack Akio with the clipboard in her hand, Akio held his breath. A tall red-haired guy wearing a dress-code-violating uniform and a creepy smile was standing right behind him.

[Name] stared at the stranger's face a little longer, oh- that's the guy Asano constantly complains about!

He grabbed Akio's shoulder in an overly friendly manner. "Did you think you'd get away from me?" Karma's voice dripped with confidence, he was confrontational and clearly didn't run away from a fight. A weird guy, his tone was friendly; the same way you'd talk to an old friend. It was comforting in an uncomfortable way, his words didn't match his attitude at all.

The life drained from Akio's face, he went pale and rigid.

"I'm having trouble deciding what to do. I could beat your face in before I take the wallet back, or you can give me everything you have on you, clothes and all. You can keep the underwear."

"You can have it back! I swear I didn't take money out of it!"

"You're funny, I don't just want it back. Not after you made me run around the block ."

Akio dropped everything he had on the floor, Nagisas wallet, [Names] bag, his pants... Karma laughed at the sight of Akio running off like his life depended on it.

It was a cute laugh, a little maniacal considering the circumstances, but cute.

"This is like hitting the lottery... Nagisa had 10 bucks in that old thing- That blockhead carries hundreds!" He was excitedly talking to himself like a child opening an early Christmas gift.

"Karma! There you are! I finally caught up. Huh? Where'd Akio go? God, please don't tell me you actually killed him..."

Nagisa was holding his stomach for support, completely out of breath and a few minutes late. He must've gotten lost while Karma was chasing Akio.

"Even better, check this out!"

He tossed both wallets to Nagisa, Then Karma opened up [Names] bag and started rummaging through it.

[Name] spoke up softly, even though the belongings were hers she felt pretty out of place after watching the whole ordeal go down. She wasn't keen on being next.

"Hi um, that's my stuff."

Karma gave her a suspicious glance out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you trying to rip my steal?"

She shook her head no in rapid motion.

Nagisa gave a panicked expression, "Karma don't be rude! She's in our class, she always brings that bag."

Karma furrowed his eyebrows in response, "Really? I never noticed ya."

He tossed the bag back into [Names] arms, "Heads up." She dropped her clipboard when meaning to catch her bag.

"What's that stack of papers for?" Nagisa asked while picking the board back up.

"It's just a survey I'm having people fill in for the school."

Karma tapped his open palm with his balled-up fist, a lightbulb moment, "Now I remember you! You're the square's girlfriend!" A little late, but at least he had some sort of recollection of [Names] existence.

[Name] was visibly taken aback, he did not just say that.

"Seriously where did that rumor come from? Asano would put a bullet in his head before going out with me."

Nagisa gave an awkward chuckle, clearly, he was only being polite. "Sorry about Karma, we can answer the survey if you still need people."

"You'd do that for me? Thank you! I have like fifty more to collect."

"Anytime, it's no problem!"

It was a really sweet gesture until the mood got spoiled by the delinquent behind him who didn't share the same enthusiasm.

"Do I have to? There are plenty of other people to choose from."

While Nagisa started going through and checking boxes [Name] couldn't help but focus on Karma. In contrast to his perfect hair and face his uniform was completely wrong. He could get into trouble if a teacher notices then it'll become a bigger problem than it has to be.

[Name] took a step closer and began to fix his outfit the best she could. She straightened up his blazer and buttoned up his collared shirt.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself as she lectured him about cleaning up his look. He focused on her hands. "Your shirt's unbuttoned, the blazers on wrong and I have an extra tie in my locker so you can have mine if you want."

He smiled and gave her a weird look, "No thanks I'm not a big fan, ties are suffocating."

He'd gotten told off millions of times by the councilors and teachers over dress code but this was the first time a girl his age nagged him about it. What was her deal? "Sorry if I sound pushy, I'm only looking out for you."

Looking out for him, that's a first.

"Nah it's okay, your shoes are untied by the way."

She looked down to check completely forgetting they didn't have laces. "Hm? But they aren't."

He laughed again, this time not like a sadistic weirdo. "Made you look! Are you always that gullible?"

Back then, [Name] and Karma didn't know they'd eventually become the most important people to one another.

He's always there when she needs it, that's what sets him apart from anyone else. [Name] thinks this makes her over-reliant, and needy. She hopes he won't grow sick of her. In that way they're the perfect pair, behind his poker-faced facade Karma is worrying about the same thing, hopefully, she never gets sick of him.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 43: Katherine's Advice

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: conditioning, discussion of abuse, panic attacks

Oliver put the finishing touches on a set of egg-salad sandwiches, neat triangles with the crust removed, and set them on a platter along with an assortment of tea cookies from a local bakery. Truthfully, he didn't know the first thing about entertaining -- with no friends or family and a tiny bookshop apartment, it wasn't anything he'd ever had to do. Alexander had some helpful suggestions for things he'd seen other thralls do, and had procured the supplies Oliver would need for a light midnight lunch (or whatever one might call it.)

In fact, Alexander had been hovering around Oliver a great deal since their fraught conversation a couple of nights before. He'd bought a bounty of foods he supposed Oliver might like, and seemed to be popping up around every corner of the library to show Oliver interesting books.  It was as though his master thought he needed to win his favor all over again -- despite the fact that Oliver was still very much enthralled, his thoughts often going hazy and filling with imagined echoes of siren song.

Oliver didn't really need the attention, but he did appreciate the advice on entertaining. Embarrassing as it was, Oliver really did want to impress his guests. So much had happened over the past few weeks, his entire life and conception of the world turned on its end. The only people who might really understand were vampires' thralls. Miriam hadn't seemed quite lucid enough for a true conversation, but Alexander had told him that Miss Ruth's thrall, Charlie, was quite intelligent and together.

It'd be nice to talk to someone else who had gone through... this. That was all.

He had just finished up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang and his master rushed to greet the guests. "Hello hello!" sang a voice that Oliver would never forget: Miss Lily. She brought both of her hands to her face in a dramatic mock gasp. "Lex? No, it can't be. You don't look like you just clawed your way out of a grave. Who are you, and what have you done with Lex?"

"Mm. Nice to see you too."

"And look at you!" Miss Lily ruffled Oliver's hair. "You look like you're adjusting quite well! Are you the one responsible for Lex's shocking good health?"

Oliver blushed, not certain how to respond to the praise. She seemed different from how she had been in the auction house, more relaxed, but something about her voice and mannerisms still made Oliver feel a bit dazed and eager to please. "I'm just glad I was able to help him, sir."

"Of course you did. I just knew a thrall like you could do him a world of good. Speaking of which..." She pulled her thrall Miriam through the front door, and she looked at Oliver with her usual clouded expression. "Miriam, you remember Oliver, don't you? Lord Alexander's new thrall?"

She looked confused for a moment before her face lit up a bit in recognition. "Oh, yes! From when we were staying at the auction house. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too." Miriam's uncertain mental state made him a bit uneasy. If Lily and Alexander were anything alike, would he end up similarly entranced? Would he even realize if it happened? Was it happening already?

"But Miriam's not the only person I've brought along. I took the liberty of inviting one of our old friends that Lex has been avoiding."

Alexander looked confused. "Ruth? I haven't been avoiding her."

"Ruth's on the way, too, but no, not her."

"Oh -- you don't mean --"

A sophisticated-looking older woman, gray hair tucked in neat curls, stepped out from the porch. She was wearing an old-fashioned, dark blue flannel dress with a high collar. Behind her was another older woman, also wearing an old-fashioned flannel dress, hers covered with a ruffled white pinafore.

"Edith! It's been ages!" said Alexander.

"And whose fault is that?" she said, in the tone of a worried mother. "You kept turning me away when I called on you, and I'd hear all about it from Lily -- how you refused to take a thrall, and were drinking bottled blood --"

Alexander looked uncharacteristically cowed by the scolding. "And I'm sure she's told you that I have a suitable thrall, now, so you needn't worry about my health."

"I'll stop being worried about your health when you start taking proper care of yourself," she said. "But I'd like to meet this thrall of yours. Is this him?"

Even with his master and Miss Lily around him, Oliver could still feel the pull of this new vampire's aura on his mind. It was soothing, almost numbing, and he had the odd thought that she must be a good master. "My name is Oliver Pines, sir, and I am indeed Lord Alexander's thrall. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, what a polite and charming thrall," Miss Edith said with a smile. She shamelessly took Oliver's chin in her hand to examine his face, and Oliver was surprised that his master didn't seem to mind. "Healthy, and his blood smells very nourishing."

"As you can see, I'm taking care of myself just fine," said Alexander defensively.

"I suppose this is a better state of affairs than your usual. But where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself properly." she said, and then turned back to Oliver. "You may address me as Dr. Edith. I'm a doctor who has served the vampire community for over a century. If you're ever sick or injured, no doubt your master will call on me to help."

"You're a vampire... doctor, sir?"

"There are very few health ailments that can afflict vampires, so I primarily take care of their precious thralls. After all, healthy thralls are necessary for a healthy vampire," she said, with a pointed look at Alexander.

He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. "Yes, yes, your point has been made."

"And this is Katherine, my faithful nurse," said Dr. Edith, gesturing to the woman who had accompanied her.

Katherine delicately shook Oliver's hand. "Good to meet you." She looked bright-eyed compared to Miriam, but her hand was warm, and she clearly was not a vampire.

"Are you a..."

"Dr. Edith's thrall, yes, and her nurse and assistant and whatever else is required of me."

"I see," he said with relief. He was looking forward to having a chat with a thrall who seemed to still have her wits about her.

While the group was still exchanging pleasantries, hanging up coats and hats, when the doorbell rang once again. It was Miss Ruth, the vampire lawyer who had sized up Oliver's suitability for a clerk at the auction house. She was followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man.

"Do you remember me, Oliver?" she asked.

"Yes, sir, I remember you very well. You asked me to recite state capitals. I'm glad to see you well."

Miss Ruth looked at him with longing. "Oh, I do wish I could have afforded to buy you," she said. "But no matter how hard I work, I just can't compete with Lex's fortune."

The broad-shouldered man was named Charlie, and he was one of Miss Ruth's thralls and law clerks. He favorited Oliver with a stoic nod, and between him and Katherine, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Now that he was fully enthralled and owned by a vampire, it was strange to be around other humans, even those in a similar boat. It made him more keenly aware of his situation, and he wondered how he seemed to other people, all too aware that he was under a hypnotic spell.

"Now that all of our guests have arrived, Oliver, why don't you get your tea and refreshments and show the thralls into the second-floor sitting room?" said Alexander. "We'll be meeting in the parlor, and I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling more than a bit like a child being shooed off so the adults could talk. But even though he'd love to hear what the vampires were discussing -- especially since he seemed to be of particular interest to them -- he was also eager to have a chat with the other thralls.

A few moments later, and he'd enlisted Katherine and Charlie's help in carrying trays to the sitting room. The curtains were open wide, offering a pleasant view of the gaslit city streets and the waning moon. Miriam settled into a plush chair and pulled a knitting project out of a small bag as Oliver poured tea for the four of them.

"Please, help yourself to sandwiches and cookies," he said.

"You're a lovely host, Oliver," Katherine commented. "And so lucid, as well." 

"Um --"

Charlie glared. "An awkward thing to say to a new thrall, don't you think?"

"At my age, I don't see any point dancing around the bush. I've seen hundreds of thralls, after all, and I'm well aware that we're some of the more fortunate ones."

"How long have you two been thralls?" asked Oliver.

"Six years for me," said Charlie.

"I've been with the doctor for nearly thirty years now."

"Thirty years!" said Oliver. "I didn't know... well..."

"Didn't realize that a thrall could last so long in the service of a vampire?" said Katherine, amused. "It's understandable, but it's more common than you might expect. I'm particularly lucky in that my master is a doctor, and so I'm kept very healthy."

"Do you like your master?"

"I do," said Katherine. "I'm under her spell, of course, but after all these years, that's practically background noise. But after having met so many vampires, I'm glad it was the doctor who enthralled me. I meet lots of interesting people and vampires, and I get to help them. I'm never bored. And she's always treated me well."

"I'm also happy to serve my master," said Charlie in a tone that sounded a bit strange. "I mean, I do miss my old life sometimes, and it's hard work to be a clerk, but my living conditions are so much better than when I was working at the factory, that's for sure. My math and reading have improved, too."

"And how about you, Oliver? What's your first impression of serving Lord Alexander?" said Katherine.

Oliver's mind swirled with thoughts, of his master's siren song and his feeding and his need, of the library and the comfortable bed and generous food, of his tiny apartment above the bookshop that used to be modest but his, of the threat of his master's sire.

"It's been good so far. Lord Alexander will be a good master to me, I hope," said Oliver carefully. "But... did you two know his previous thralls?"

Katherine exchanged a look with Charlie. "Ah, yes, Henry. I remember him. He was more... subdued. Like Miriam." 

"Like Miriam," Oliver repeated, his fear of having his mind fade away from him renewed.

Miriam looked up from her knitting. "Hm?"

"Nothing, dear," said Katherine. "I believe that Lord Alexander has, for the most part, always treated his thralls very well. He's a gentle vampire, and he's always treated me with more respect than is due a thrall. But..."

"But?"

"Well... I have had to treat a number of mysterious injuries on Alexander's previous thralls. Miss Lily's as well. I assume you know what those two have in common."

Charlie looked impatient. "There's no need to beat around the bush. Our vampires won't mind us talking about this. They're probably talking about the same thing," he said. "Oliver, what has Lord Alexander told you about the Maestro?"

"The Maestro?" said Oliver, his eyes widening. "Is that... his sire?"

"Oh dear. Yes, he is," said Katherine. "So he's told you very little. It's the way of vampires, unfortunately. Even my master barely tells me anything."

Oliver gripped his chair. "I need to know. Please, tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't know that much myself. He's notoriously reclusive. But I have had to visit his manor to attend to thralls on a number of occasions. Even my master would prefer not to go there, but she says it's too dangerous to defy him."

"What was he like?"

Katherine leaned in close, as though the subject of their conversation might somehow overhear. "His power lets him control people's bodies utterly. His thralls are like toy soldiers, moving to a drum only they can hear. I'm used to all kinds of thralls, but his were uncanny." Katherine shuddered. "Even though he didn't lay a hand on me, he was glaring at me the entire time, and I could feel his influence pulling at my mind. A feeling as though I had to fall in line immediately, or something terrible would happen. Like I could barely think without him hearing it. I've rarely wanted to flee a manor so quickly as that one."

"That does sound... unpleasant," he said, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his tea, unable to stop his imagination from conjuring visions of himself being used as little more than a puppet. "And his thralls were injured?"

"My master complained that he hadn't called until they were practically bleeding out -- afterwards, of course, not while we were there. Malnourished, too, with a haunted look about them." She put a hand on his knee with a sympathetic look. "But these were the Maestro's own thralls, not Alexander's. You have far less to worry about here. As I've said, I've always found him to be a very gentle vampire."

"Convenient," huffed Charlie. "A vampire with a reputation for being gentle and honest, who gets to blame all his thralls' injuries on his notoriously cruel sire."

Katherine looked alarmed. "Charlie --"  

"I'm just saying that I find it hard to believe the apple falls that far from the tree."

Before Katherine could interject again, Miriam unexpectedly looked up from her knitting, fear written on her normally placid face. "But it is true," she insisted. "Lord Alexander has never hurt me. Neither has Miss Lily, except when she has to leave me there, and --" Tears began to roll down her face. "I can hear it. I can still hear it. Miss Lily told me I could forget, but I can't, I can't forget or he'll punish me --"

"Miriam, oh dear, Miriam, it's okay," said Katherine, pulling the sobbing thrall into an embrace. "It's all right, Miriam. No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe with us, dear."

"I can dance. I can do the dance perfectly, I promise, just let me try, I can do it." Miriam's anxious mumble was barely intelligible between her crying and the way she was pressed against Katherine.

"Miriam, you aren't there. You aren't anywhere frightening. You're having tea at Lord Alexander's house, remember?"

"I'm at...?"

"Lord Alexander's house. His thrall Oliver is being such a gracious host. It's perfectly safe. See?"

Miriam seemed to wake from her terror almost as quickly as she'd fallen into it. "Oh, of course, I don't know what I was thinking!" she said, glassy-eyed as she lifted her head from Katherine's shoulder. "Oh, I always enjoy when my madam visits Lord Alexander. He's very kind to me."

"Of course he is, dear," said Katherine, patting her back. "We really shouldn't bring up such awful topics around Miriam. She's a sensitive soul. Charlie, how's your baseball team doing?"

Oliver wanted to hear more, even though it terrified him, but he also felt awful that his questioning had thrown Miriam into a panic, so he eagerly went along with the topic change. "You like baseball, Charlie?"

"Love baseball, always have," he said, also looking relieved at the conversation switch. "My master gave me a great radio set, so I can listen to all the games. But my team's doing awful this year -- bottom of the league. They never shoulda traded their star pitcher..." 

As Oliver listened to Charlie rant about blown games and poor referee calls, as Katherine discussed birdwatching and a new bread recipe she'd tried, he could almost forget the fear of his situation and feel a little bit normal.

It was only later, after Charlie and his madam left and Miriam was engrossed in her knitting, that Oliver was able to pull Katherine aside. "Katherine, will you please hear me out?"

"Certainly," she said in a motherly tone. "I know how hard it is, the first few weeks of being a vampire's thrall."

"What you said before..." He glanced around as if he were afraid his master would pop out of the shadows at any moment. "Am I safe here? Will I be all right? I've been conditioned to be unable escape..."

"That's normal, yes. I assume Miss Lily was the one who handled your conditioning?"

"She was."

"Then no, I don't expect you'll be able to escape," she said. She put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "I can't promise that you will be safe. What I said about the Maestro was all true, and while I do believe Alexander means well on the whole, you're among vampires now. We live in their world, and they do what they will with us."

Oliver felt his gut twist. "So then..."

"I've met so many thralls in my life. Hundreds, probably. Most in worse situations than you, and some in better," she said. "Would you like to hear my honest advice about surviving this?"

"Yes, by all means."

"Find happiness wherever you can. Find joy outside of your master's enthralling and feeding. Hobbies, food, art, education, anything that brings you pleasure -- indulge in it." She smiled warmly. "You'll need these pleasures to keep your mind sharp and keep your soul from despair. When you're permanently a prisoner, you need something tangible to look forward to, even if it's simply a warm drink or a beam of sunshine. You seem like the sort of man who can appreciate the mundane."

"...I like to believe so, yes."

"That's a skill that will serve you well, Oliver," she said. "Even if Alexander and his sire are cruel to you, you'll still have something to hold on to during your darkest moments."

"Something to hold on to..." 

"I think you will figure it out. With how much Lord Alexander seems to prize you, it wouldn't surprise me to meet you here twenty years from now, looking back on our lives with our vampires."

She seemed to mean it, and that gave Oliver hope.

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I really enjoy Edith as a character and hope to write at least one side story with her.

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[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #6 Summary: Marc spends the evening with you and Steven gets a haunting

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: ANGST, the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, dealing with death and grief, manner and COD discussed, violence, spooky/horror elements, probably inaccurate DID (show based), not beta’d

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PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

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Marc wanted to stay home with you all day, but you insisted that they lead normal lives. You promised to come back.

He wanted to kiss you goodbye. You’d just told each other you loved one another. It almost seemed as if he was headed downtown to work, and you would venture into your loft to write for the day.

You missed your loft. Why couldn’t you go in there? Maybe if you concentrated hard enough…

You missed writing. Maybe you could write some children’s ghost stories. After all, you now had first hand experience.

What…were you thinking? Write?

Was this death? Feeling all these tormented emotions? And good ones too? The sparkle of laughter with Jake, the yearning to talk to Steven, the love and longing, even lust for Marc.

And the guilt. You were too harsh with Marc before, when you said he ran away from pain or punched it in the face. You had to see him again soon, to apologize. He was going through too much already - he didn’t deserve that - not from you.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” you whispered into the stillness of your bedroom. As if he could hear you.

The feelings washed over you, making you feel…alive. And clearer than you had felt since you first became aware of yourself, or of this room.

You waited all day. This was new. It was boring. But boring was better than darkness. Feeling anything was better.

You were practically bouncing with anticipation by the time the sun set. Finally Marc arrived.

You called his name as soon as you saw him climbing the front steps to your front door, and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of you.

“Baby? You okay?” He huffed, having run up the stairs.

“Yes, you can see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling off his jacket. “The way you were calling my name, I thought…something was wrong.”

You both realized how weird that sounded. Being dead kind of meant everything was wrong.

So you told him about your day. How you thought and thought and felt so many feelings. How you wondered about writing and your loft. How you never went back to the Dark Place. And how very sorry you were for what you said to him.

“I’m the last person who should be confirming your worst thoughts about yourself, Marc,” you explained. “Please forgive me, I felt terrible about it all day. I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” No way he wanted you of all people to feel anything negative. You were the one who lost your life after all.

You talked for a little while longer, about simple things - his day at work, his walk home. Ordinary things. He mentioned speaking with Ms. Marjorie and you shared that you heard Steven speaking about her quaint, lovely shop.

Finally, Marc’s stomach growled, letting you both know that he needed some dinner. He could plainly see that you were anxious about him leaving the room.

“Just gonna grab some leftovers, honey, I’ll be right back,” he softly assured you.

Great. Now you were a clingy ghost. What the hell…

He wasn’t gone long, by your estimation anyway, and ate in your bedroom, with the two of you sitting on the bed. Then you felt even more guilty, as if you were trapping him here somehow.

“Hey, is the World Series on yet?” You asked, knowing October meant baseball postseason.

“Next week,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

You smiled at him knowingly. “Well, I mean…you can go watch baseball if you want to. You don’t have to sit in here all night.”

He pretended to be offended. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No! No, I just…I want you to live your normal life…” You trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Fuck it, I’ll just move the TV up here. Or get a new one,” he shrugged. “I want to be with you.”

That proclamation sobered you both, because it was the whole problem. You couldn’t be together. Not really.

“I want that too,” you whispered, easing a little closer to where he sat, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “It’s all I want. To be with you. But…it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” he found himself telling you, without really thinking before he spoke.

You frowned, confused.

“That’s what you kept saying, or…some voice I kept hearing when you first started appearing to me. ‘It’s not too late’. Even Ms. Marjorie said it. I didn't realize it til now but...I've heard it a few times: 'it's not too late.' What do you think it means?"

You shook your head. "No idea. It's obviously too late for us to really be together...isn't it?"

The sight of your wide, hopeful eyes broke his heart. "There has to be a reason you're here."

You talked a little while longer, about what this all could possibly mean. And instead of fading away, you seemed energized...and felt more alive, but you definitely were not.

Marc kept trying to touch you on instinct and you were most assuredly a ghost.

So you talked about ghosts: about myths and fables and any lore you could think of. You even looked it up online. Marc admitted Steven might be the better consult regarding this topic, but you both soberly remembered that he couldn't see you.

Which hurt because you felt overlooked and Marc felt crazy. But it wasn't Steven's fault, clearly.

"Ghosts can have unfinished business," Marc read from his phone screen. "All right, who are you still pissed at?"

The tension in his shoulders and the scowl he normally wore had relaxed as the night wore on. He almost seemed like his old self again. The person he was with you. The loving partner you adored, not the grief-stricken lonely man who questioned his sanity.

"No one," you thoughtfully answered, not knowing how the next words out of your mouth would change everything. "Well maybe the asshole who killed me."

Marc's phone dropped out of his hand and hit the mattress. He went deadly serious in one second flat. The mirth in his eyes turned stone cold - his lips parted as he drew a shuddering breath.

"W-what did you just say?" He choked out.

Shit, that wasn't a topic you should have made light of, or thrown around carelessly. Marc must still be reeling from your murder, if not blaming himself for it somehow.

"I'm sorry I said that - "

"What...did you say?" He covered his mouth with both hands as his eyes burned with fury. Pushing up off the bed, his fingers tore through his hair. "You...you weren't murdered," he gasped, his chest heaving the way it normally did right before he panicked. He wouldn't likely be here for much longer.

"You weren't," he hissed out a whisper. "What are you saying? There was an autopsy. You weren't...what are you saying!?"

Shit.

You floated off the bed, bewildered. You hadn't considered, even for a moment, that Marc was unaware of how you died. And it hadn't exactly come up.

"Marc, I...it doesn't matter how it happened, really. I didn't mean to...I thought you knew - "

"Yes, it really fucking does matter," he snapped, his fists clenched so tight they were turning white. His wild, frantic eyes landed on you, and seeing your distress, he shook his head in agony.

"You were...how? Who did this?" He let out a choked sob. "Tell me who. Who hurt you?"

"I-I don't know him. Marc, I thought you knew. If I wouldn't have gone to see Jake that night - "

"What?"

You went into the city the night you died? And Jake never fucking thought to mention it?

"I...I was on my way to see Jake." You did that sometimes - ride around with him at night, when Marc and Steven would have the next day off. It was a way to spend a little extra time with Jake, in his environment - his own little world. Plus it was fun to stay out all night, driving people around, eating at your favorite diner...making love in the back seat...

"I never made it," you explained. "I-I was still here in town when a man grabbed me - covered my mouth. He was strong. Then he moved my arm and I felt a pinch underneath my armpit. And that's all. He...maybe he injected me with something."

Marc pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, almost doubling over in agony. "No. No, no, no, no." He banged his fists against his forehead and before you could follow your instinct to go to him - before you could even remember you wouldn't be able to touch him, he was gone.

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Steven straightened up, blinking a few times before using his sleeve to dry his eyes. "What?"

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings when he heard the most heartbreaking cry of anguish...

coming from you.

“Bloody hell!” Steven gasped, scrambling away from your visage - not because it was you. He simply wasn’t expecting anyone at all to be in his bedroom. And he still couldn't see you, but he did hear someone cry out.

“No, no, no,” you cried, knowing Steven couldn’t see you.

"Losing m'mind," he mumbled, drawing his hands to his chest. His eyes swept across the room nervously, but he saw nothing.

"Maybe this place really is haunted," he murmured to himself. Deciding to take an evening walk and shake himself out of his spooky mindset, Steven found his shoes before shuffling downstairs, leaving you alone and heartbroken.

The feeling of being alive was so close, you could almost taste it. Your chest heaved with emotion - your heart, which stopped pumping life through your veins months ago, raced with worry for Marc and longing for Steven.

"Steven, please," you gasped, in a manner that would have been tearful, except that you had no tears to cry.

But he was gone.

Steven no longer lived in complete oblivion as he once did. If he suddenly fronted, his cheeks wet with Marc's tears, there was clearly a reason. Maybe Marc was still seeing you. He wasn't sure right at the moment because his alter was quiet - nowhere to be found, really. And it wasn't a parlor trick. He couldn't force Marc to appear or share anything.

Perhaps your little bungalow truly was haunted. Without giving it much thought, Steven's feet carried him back downtown, straight to the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop.

He was looking for Ms. Marjorie. He wanted answers and somehow, he felt that she could give them.

But as he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he stopped short. There, right where the Mystic Delights shop should be, was...nothing. The building was dark and little run down. Unoccupied.

"Wait a minute..." Steven mused to himself, inspecting the darkened windows, where twinkle lights had recently shone out, welcoming him in. He scurried a few more doors down, to Mrs. Alraune's flower shop. Her store was closed, but in tact.

Retracing his steps, Steven tried to reason with himself about where Ms. Marjorie and her lovely shop could possibly be.

Finally, he decided to inquire in the corner drug store. He recognized the face of the cashier but didn't know her name. She looked to be in her early 20s and often rang Steven's order when he stopped in.

He inquired after Ms. Marjorie and the little shop that had come to mean so much to him in only a couple days.

Devon, the young cashier was named, told him she had been employed at the drug store since high school and that particular store had changed owners a few times. The city had tried to clean it up on many occasions but she couldn't remember an antique store - not recently, anyway.

"No, that's not possible," Steven argued. Realizing his words might offend, he apologized. "Sorry, I just...I swear there was a lovely little antique shop right there. The most extraordinary woman owns it..."

Realizing he sounded like he wasn't quite right, he offered up one more apology and left.

Steven felt more confused than ever. Where was Ms. Marjorie? And her shop? Who was making noises in his home? And why had Marc claimed to see you?

October 31st hadn't quite rolled around, but Steven was all done with spooks. He walked home, quickening his pace, fueled by confusion and agitation.

Once he reached your front yard, he saw the curtain of his bedroom rustling.

"All right, ghost," he firmly declared, "I'm coming up and you bloody well better make yourself plain. No more games."

He rushed up the front steps to unlock the front door, hoping with all his heart that, if you were here - if Marc really saw you - that he might see you too.

So he called your name.

"Darling, I know I haven't been able to see you, and...I don't even know if you're here, but please...please send me some kind of a sign."

Turning this way and that, he checked the living room, the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pausing at your picture in the hallway.

"What's happening, love? Marc is seeing you, and I'm apparently having tea with a spectre instead of a shopkeeper. Please...are you there?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat and confusion, he trudged the final step into your once-shared bedroom

...and there you were.

Right there, seated on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

"Oh my days," he breathed, his eyes widening as he stepped right in front of you. “Darling? Is it really you?”

Your gaze, so forlorn, snapped up to his. “Steven?” You gasped, “Can…can you see me?”

He rubbed his eyes for good measure, then nodded eagerly. “You are here. Aren’t you, love?”

"Steven, oh my god," you breathed, rising to meet him, wishing with all your nonexistent heart you could throw your arms around him. "I've been trying to talk to you, but you couldn't hear me, or see me," You emphatically explained.

"God, I'm so sorry," he sincerely returned, his dark eyes shifting, studying you with concern. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe it. Marc was right. H-how are you here?" Stepping closer, he interrupted himself. "Are you alright, love? You're not hurt or anything? I mean, besides the obvious..."

He trailed off, granting you a bewildered smile as he drew his hands close to his chest. Oh, how you missed this precious, adorable man of yours.

"No, I'm okay. I was with Marc before. Then you left."

You explained to Steven a little of what had been going on, with your talks with Marc and Jake. Then you asked Steven if any of them knew how you died.

"Coroner said your heart just stopped," Steven explained.

"Yeah because someone injected me with something," you supplied, feeling the need to pace back in forth, even though you were really sort of floating. "They didn't find anything in my system? A drug, or a puncture mark under my arm?"

"Darling you're not...you're not suggesting that you were...killed?"

Just the thought of some asshole taking you away from your life - from your stories, your loft, from the town you adored, from this house and from the man you wanted to marry and have a family with - the feeling of the helplessness and despair you felt in that moment boiled into rage.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you curled your fingers into fists, squeezed your eyes shut and cried out, sending a wave of energy jolting through your bedroom, knocking Steven clean off his feet. The power was so strong, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table, crashing to the floor, and lastly, the mirror over your dresser shattered.

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

Steven reacted equally, having summoned his Mr. Knight suit without a second thought. He didn't even intend to do it - it just happened as soon as his mind registered the danger of falling and flying glass.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...

It absolutely shattered you. The coherent thoughts you wanted to share with your partner were as scattered as the shattered mirror glass.

Powerful emotions swirled and blurred into despair. You found yourself untethered from the sweet conversation, longing and desire with your partner - the serenity you had experienced here over the last day or so, with Marc and Jake.

The broken lamp sent the room into darkness and as you fell further into despair, you could no longer detect the white of Steven's suit, or see even the moon's glow through the window.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away, the way a voice above the surface of a swimming pool sounds when you're underwater.

The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

next

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[hannahssimblr]

“Nobody better be kissing in here,” she announces when we meet her at a cafe a stone's throw from Christchurch Cathedral. She arrives after a haircut, short, cut all the way up to her ears and a hand performatively shielding her gaze. 

We ignore her. “Jen! Your hair!” 

“I hate it,” she announces, “I think I look stupid.”

“No, you don’t,” Michelle insists as she slumps into a seat across from us, “It’s chic.”

“Chic? I don’t think I’m capable of being chic. I feel like I have nothing to hide behind anymore, you know? Now I’m all just face.”

“Well, you have a nice face anyway. Lucky you.”

Jen grunts, “thanks.”

“You know whose hair it’s like?” I say, trying to be helpful, “Emma Watson. You know how she’s done the whole hair-like-a-boy thing ever since she finished up on Harry Potter?”

Michelle frowns at me. 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” says Jen, “but this haircut does not make me look like Emma Watson.” she grabs the menu from the table and skims it with disinterest, “I don’t want to talk about hair. It will grow out eventually, please, tell me about your NCAD interviews. How did they go?”

Michelle gets right into it, regaling her with the full story from start to finish, how Ida and Paul looked at her when she came into the room, the manner in which they unzipped her portfolio, the questions they asked, the way they made her feel, while I sit humming along sympathetically, hoping that if I stay invested in what Michelle is saying then I won't be asked to describe my experience.

“And you, Jude?” Jen says, “Did you find them to be dickheads too?”

“Uh, yeah totally,” I say, “it was fairly uncomfortable alright.”

She looks at Michelle, “He’s lying.”

“I’m not!”

“You are! I bet it went so incredibly well that you feel awkward about telling us, look!” she stabs a finger in my direction, “his face, he’s an awful liar, see how his eye twitches like that? It’s his tell. I would know.”

“I’m not-” I grab hold of Michelle’s knee and squeeze it, “I’m not lying, it went the same for me as it did for you.”

I glare at Jen. Can’t she see that I’m just doing damage control? The last thing I want to do is upset my girlfriend. As sensitive as she is already, I feel the knowledge of what happened inside that interview room would send her into a spin for the whole day. Jen wrinkles her nose and sticks her pointy little tongue out at me. 

“NCAD isn’t our preference anyway,” I continue insistently, “We’ve done our interviews for Paris, next week is Munich and Berlin, then Amsterdam and London. This is really, like, a last resort, but something will work out for us.”

Jen raises her eyebrows, “Germany? Michelle, you can’t speak German.”

“Yeah but I’d learn.”

“Exactly, and if we end up going to France then I’ll learn French.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of learning on top of what you’re already doing, isn’t it? You sure you’ll be able for all that?”

Michelle clutches hold of my hand, “We’ll make it work no matter what,” she says, and I can't tell if it's a statement, a question, or an order.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[minastras]

04. please tell me we didn’t fuck

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words: 2k

warnings: swearing, one christianity joke, sex mentions

——————————

Your previous roommate used to despise you being in the living room while he was there. He seemed to expect you to stay holed up in your room constantly — as though the common areas belonged to him — and to avoid conflict you usually complied.

As panicked as you were when he abruptly decided to drop out of university and head back to his hometown, leaving you alone on the lease to pick up his share of the rent, you were also relieved. Now you could lounge around in the living room and cook in the kitchen as much as you pleased.

Taehyun was orders of magnitude a better roommate, even if he mostly ignored you. He wasn’t the friendliest, sure, but he was tidy and cordial and considerate. You didn’t like being on your own — Yeonjun and Soobin could attest to how frequently you begged them to come over before Taehyun moved in — and having him around even if he didn’t talk to you was better than being alone.

So when you dragged yourself home after a bad day a week ago to find that he wasn’t there, you found yourself missing his presence. Somehow, you’d grown attached to having him sitting on the opposite end of the sofa as far away from you as possible, scrolling idly on his phone and paying you no mind while you caught up on your lectures.

You put on your comfort show and curled up on the sofa under a thick blanket. As usual, the heater wasn’t working and the apartment was freezing.

He came home just a few minutes later, greeting you in his typically brief manner. You tried to muster up the strength but you didn’t have it in you to respond with your trademark enthusiasm, so you just waved and gave him a weak smile as he headed into his bedroom.

Your mind was totally fogged over. The only thing that snapped you out of it was Taehyun coming back out of his room and joining you on the sofa. This time, however, he didn’t leave enough space between you two for Jesus and all twelve of his disciples. He sat down right beside you, his knee bumping up against yours.

“Hi?” you said, unsure, taking off your headphones.

“Are you okay?” he asked, forgoing a formal acknowledgement.

“Uh- what-”

You had spent the entire day fumbling with your word choices — whether because of burnout (likely) or stupidity (admittedly less likely) — and having Taehyun’s gorgeous face just a few inches from yours, searching your eyes for answers, wasn’t helping.

He’d changed out of his work uniform into a grey hoodie and black sweatpants, and swapped his contacts for glasses. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, staring at your blanket-bundled form quizzically. But when you took too long to answer he leaned back, his eyes hardening in a swift return to their usual state.

“Alright, never mind. I’ll leave you to it,” he sighed, standing up.

“No! Uh- please stay,” you said hurriedly with a nervous laugh, shifting over to make more room for him next to you. Okay, Soobin was right. You were down bad.

Sure, some of it might have had to do with the undeniable fact that Taehyun was incredibly attractive. You weren’t lying when you’d said he had nice eyes and a trustworthy face. He was tall and well-built, constantly going to the gym, and just about every feature of his was perfect. To you, anyway.

His bright red hair was meticulously maintained, but contrary to your assumptions it wasn’t a problem. He always cleaned the shared bathroom extensively after his dye sessions, which was what you were worried about when you first met him.

He wore contacts when he was in public but switched to his round wire-framed glasses at home (you didn’t realise you had a thing for glasses until you saw him in his). He walked around in sleeveless tops a lot. He smelt nice.

But a lot more of it had to do with things like this: he could tell instantly when you were down, sang the songs he knew you liked when you were around, and plugged in your laptop for you at night when you forgot to so it would be fully charged in time for your early morning classes.

To your surprise, he sat back down. You handed him a blanket from the pile.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked, hoping your nervousness didn’t bleed into your voice.

“You seem upset. I felt like you needed the company,” he replied. “Bad day?”

Hot, respectful, and caring? You were done for.

“The worst,” you answered with a sigh.

That morning, your parents had called to tell you not to bother visiting them over the summer holidays. A groupmate of yours messed up a project submission, costing you twenty percent of your grade. Then one of Yeonjun’s dance crew members who despised you had called you a clout-chaser in front of about forty people just an hour ago, which was what had made you cancel your plans and come straight home.

Taehyun didn’t ask you to elaborate, and you’d never felt more relieved. You sat in comfortable silence together, watching I Love Lucy until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight, Taehyun,” you smiled as you both headed for your bedrooms. “You’re an angel.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” he said, scratching his jaw, brushing you off.

Maybe it was your tiredness or your emotional exhaustion or the shitty lighting in the apartment, but it almost looked like his ears turned red after you said that.

——————————

When Taehyun first decided on a whim to check on you a week ago, he never expected this. His plan was to join you on the sofa for a few minutes, make sure you were alright, and then go to bed.

He normally only spoke to you if he absolutely needed to — you were like oil and water, after all — but you’d looked so upset that he just had to. He didn’t think you’d ask him to stay and watch your weird 1950s sitcom with you.

And he definitely didn’t think that doing so would become part of his daily routine within just a week.

On most days he reached home before you did and would study at the kitchen counter, since neither of your bedrooms were big enough to fit desks. You’d bring back dinner for both of you from the restaurant you worked at, only letting him pay his way on occasion, and watch TV together under at least three blankets to stave off the creeping cold in the apartment.

Over time, he’d started sitting closer and closer to you until eventually, you were practically leaning on each other. It was for warmth, he told himself repeatedly, and so he could see the screen (he was now far more invested in your show than he would’ve liked to admit).

The heater malfunctioned more than it worked and he still couldn’t figure out how to fix it (you’d given up a long time ago). Your apartment was full of draughts, despite the rubber tape seals you had installed around the windows and under the front door. He didn’t understand how you could bear living here for as long as you had.

“Fuck, your hands are cold,” he hissed when you brushed against his arm one night while readjusting one of the blankets.

In response, you grabbed his. “So are yours,” you teased. You let go of his hand within a second, but within that time his cheeks had already turned as bright red as his hair.

He used to think of you as a pest, constantly buzzing around, obnoxiously friendly and bubbly, never shutting off your social battery no matter what. Fine, Beomgyu may have laid a somewhat unfair groundwork of prejudice before you’d even met. And you were all of those things, but you were also kind.

You thanked him for everything: for cleaning the bathroom after he’d turned it into the site of a horror movie while touching up his roots, for reminding you to bring your keys when you were rushing out of the house in the morning, for letting you shower first when you had an early class and he had absolutely nowhere to be.

He still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the time you made dinner for him when he came home at 11pm, leaving a post-it-note on the kitchen counter that read ‘welcome home taehyun! check the microwave <3’

That wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that.

He had a habit of constantly opening the fridge when he was hungry, which you’d picked up on immediately. Once when he was doing that, you ordered food without saying a word and knocked on his door to give it to him. He complimented your cat mug a while back, and the very next day you returned home with a similar one for him.

And you were cute. God, you were so cute.

After that first day he had hesitated to ask to join you again, but when he worked up the courage to throw an unpopped popcorn kernel at your head and tell you to move over, all you did was beam and call his name in such a joyous tone that he couldn’t believe he’d ever been unsure.

You had a habit of twisting up the blankets of the sofa without realising you were doing it, and he often had to nudge you to stop. Sometimes you muttered lines from I Love Lucy under your breath as you watched, so accurate in both words and inflection that he’d asked you more than once how many times you watched the show.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to fall asleep while you were curled up together on the sofa trying to stay warm — to which he always responded by violently shaking you awake until you kicked him in the stomach and grumbled why couldn’t you just let me sleep — but it was only on that one fateful night that he fell asleep as well.

He was planning to stay out that night, not for any particular reason other than wanting to walk around for a bit. But when you texted him asking if he was going to be home soon he turned right back around.

Taehyun woke up first to find your head on his chest tucked under his chin, his arms wrapped around your waist, and your legs tangled together as you lay on top of him. A sharp pain radiated up his spine as he tried to sit up, a reminder of precisely why he didn’t let you fall asleep on the sofa.

“Shit.”

You jolted awake at that, even though he’d whispered (or he thought so, anyway). And you practically flew off the sofa, landing on the floor with a hard thud.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, scrambling to your feet and flustered beyond measure, still barely conscious. “Please tell me we didn’t fuck.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Why on earth would we have fucked? Neither of us drank a thing,” he responded.

You stopped flailing around. “Oh. Right,” you said, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. 

His heart was still pounding, too, but he was doing a much better job hiding it than you were. He sat up on the sofa and crossed his legs, taming his bed hair with his fingers while he watched you fuss around.

“I’m- I’m late for my lecture. I gotta go,” you told him, scooping up your laptop and phone while tripping over the blanket you’d dragged down onto the floor with you in your panic. He suppressed a laugh and stepped on it so you could free yourself.

You raced back to your room like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough, but you turned back around right in front of your door. “Taehyun,” you called.

“What?”

“Your hair looks nice like that, by the way,” you said, before rushing into your room and closing the door behind you.

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

[daddysfangirls-dc]

UnTamed Ch.11

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

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He has found nothing. Tim has been searching for the strange girl for three days now. With facial recognition and DNA testing (pulled from Robin's uniform), I found nothing. The relief he felt early on was quickly swept away.

The others were quite overjoyed and amused with the new knowledge of his new female 'friend.' While they wanted to meet, talk, and ask about her, they knew they couldn't because they weren't even supposed to know about her. Now, it amused them to watch Damian disappear because they knew/assumed where he was going. 

Tim had yet to share his information on the girl, or lack thereof. 

-

"Pretty," Duke said as he was shown a clearer picture of the girl. 

"And they kissed," Stephanie cooed 

"Oh, Damian had his first kiss," Dick owed like an adoring mother

"That was most definitely not his first kiss," Tim said as he continued to type aggressively on his computer."Our bro was handling that like a pro."

Tim ignored Steph's nudging. "Like father, like son," Jason laughed, tossing his head back.

"I hope not," Dick whispered, no longer feeling such joy, especially at the thought of another Bruce.

Dick remembered his youth and all the women that followed Bruce, the late-night giggling, and the many scandals. Of course, the women and scandals slowed down with each child. Six official children later, Bruce's scandal no longer involved women, at least not in a sexual manner. Now, all his scandals dealt with his kids and parenting, if not business. Dick very much did not want to see Playboy Damian in the tabloids. 

"If that's the case, is she Selina or Talia?" 

"Neither, I hope." Tim held Stephanie.

-

Damian watched as Asta lay across his bed, reading a book and putting colored tape on a few words as she went. " You're getting better," he said as he looked over her shoulder. She was doing much better but still struggling to pronounce some words or missing them altogether. 

"I'm trying. Big words still get me," she says as she closes the book and rolls over to lie on her back. " I'm not a genius -"

"Obviously"

"But-but I'm smart now. Smart enough to survive, at least. Thanks to you." she says as she beckons him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as he leans over her on his forearms.

"You're welcome." she giggled.

They hadn't spoken about the kiss from a few days back. They hadn't forgotten about it. They elected to simply ignore or not acknowledge it. It happened, and that was that. Or "What happened the other night?"

"what do you mean?" she asked. He lays down with his head on her chest.

"The kiss it was... very intimate and intense. we've never done anything like that before"

"I'm sorry-"

"I liked it. I really liked it ... And I'd like to do it again... please?" he looked up from where his head lay on her chest. She could feel his emotion. He was anxious, feeling worried, but also a bit excited and eager. She recognized it as an emotion he felt when he wanted a kiss. Rolling them over, Asta was on top of him, straddling him, and leaning down, she gave him a soft peck. 

"Another," he whispers. She smiles against his lips.

He chases, having his tongue trace her lips before slipping past. She could taste that morning's orange juice on his tongue. He could probably taste the apple she stole this morning. His hands moved from her waist to her back, pulling her closer. She pulled away slightly to catch her breath. Asta giggles as she feels his joy.

He did not enjoy her giggles. Grabbing the back of her neck, he rolls over, putting himself on top. He laces his fingers in her hair, pulling her into another kiss, a bit more forceful and aggressive. She held on to his shoulders, holding him closer. Feeling his warmth as it seeps into her skin, asking for the beat of his heart as it beats between their chest. His clothes were their only barrier. It was all so overwhelming. As he pulled away slightly, she whimpered. He stopped.

"I'm- I'm sorry"

"It's okay. I liked it."

[orangez3st]

Dream Currents

Captain Rex × OFC Force Goddess

— Chapter 12: Soon-To-Be

Tags: teen & up, f/m, gen, hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump, the worst is probably sw curse words (tell me if I should add more tags!)

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Sho’cye is scrutinizing him. Though, not in a bad way. Looks like she’s entertained. Arms folded across her chest, she grins in amusement as she takes him whole with a twinkle in her eyes. “This is the first time I’m seeing you in armor.”

He looks down at his training armor. “I don’t even know why I’m kitted up here.”

Sho’cye huffs a laugh. “Well, if you’re not comfortable with that, you can always put it away.” She begins to walk away. Then she pauses, turning around to see the trooper in a trance. She gives him a look. “Do I have to tell you ‘at ease’? Relax. You’re as stiff as a plank.”

In truth Six-Seven is not even in attention, but– yes he’s still, yes he hasn’t moved an inch, but that’s totally her fault. Under the dull weather in the Coastline, greying clouds and chilly ocean breeze coming their way non-stop and the sea brushing over the shore higher than usual, he’s fallen into a trance of her inducing. Her dress, of some soft material and its tail dramatically sways in the quite loud breeze. Midnight ocean hair in a braid down one shoulder. Warm, luminous smile. Familiar, welcoming air about her. Something about her easy-going manner is almost… otherworldly. A life as a soldier is all he knows, but in the Coastline with her… the distinction makes his stomach all warm and fuzzy. Makes him feel safe. But he knows better.

“Come on.” He doesn’t even realize Sho’cye has come back for him, nimble fingers tugging on his gloved hand. Sea green pools bore into him. “We’ve to find shelter. I think it’s going to rain soon.”

The notion finally sets him apace. Nodding, he walks up to her side, bucket clutched under his arm. Sho’cye lets go of her grip, smiling up at him as she allows him to match her pace up the shore, and he’s got no damn idea why he forgot to pull his hand away himself.

It's been four standard years now since they first met. Their daily – or, nightly, per his situation – meetings dwindle as he ages. Trainings are becoming more intense and the physicals are shaping and pulling his muscles taut. It looks much clearer and more obvious that his trainers are putting him up to the clone commander ranks (Two-Four can’t be more pleased for the life of him) since his leading initiative and combat prowess result in top marks among others – and they don’t even know why he’s a CT either. He leads squads in countless battle sims now and exhibits the sharpness of his mind when it comes to strategy talk, along with chugging on hours of studying planetary terrain, plus numerous munition briefings and close combat training. His trainers, even the most seasoned Mandalorian bounty hunters who personally know Jango Fett himself, continue to be flabbergasted by his not-so-CT capabilities. I swear that’s just how I am. CT comedy life or somethin’. One of his batchmates who’s gone into combat medic training once threw a ‘maybe you’re a defect’ or something that it was enough reason for him to roughhouse the poor guy and won.

And since he ages up twice as fast, seems like she’s chosen to keep up with the pace as well, following him toe-to-toe into mid adolescent stage. It astonishes him still as to why.

“What, want me to change appearance into a white-haired grumpy version of me?” she joked when he asked about it one time in their now-bimonthly meeting. Since then, he knows better than to loudly question that particular thoughtful decision of hers, although a bit ridiculous, in his opinion. She could be whatever she likes but she chose to match with my…growth phase.

They find shelter. It’s one of those caves on the west side of the beach where they have to make up quite a walk towards the rocky cliffs. Just as they duck under the entryway that faces directly towards shrubs and trees and a peek of the shoreline, the first torrential drizzle has started to splatter onto the sand and rocks. Six-Seven notices Sho’cye taking a deep breath, staring out into the rain, pleased as she breathes out her nature.

He follows suit. Deep breaths, counting, in and out. The smell of ichor and dampness starts filling his nostrils as he stands by the cave’s entrance – by instinct. On the rather smooth rocky cave floor, the distinction between Sho’cye and himself becomes more apparent than before. Here he is kitted up in his training armor, helmet under one arm and DC15S standard-issued blaster safely holstered looking almost ready for battle at a moment’s notice, while she calmly squats and leans back against the wall with a longing look into the rain, the tail of her soft-looking white dress grazing the cave floor. Looking vulnerable… too delicate. But he certainly knows there’s much raw primordial ire behind the surface softness of it all.

It's not their first encounter with rain. He loses count already, seemingly unable to find the reason why she opts for the weather. Change of scenery? Mood? Beats me.

“Ah, won’t you look at that! Already prepared for us. As if there’s someone else on this beach.”

He turns at her cheery voice, arms unfolding from his chest to his sides. Not far behind them, on the smooth surface of the cave, a modest, yet comfortable-looking red rug is splayed out with a couple of throw pillows on it. Sho’cye is innocently grinning up at him with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

Scoffing, he remarks dryly, “Very convenient.” As if she didn’t manifest that out of thin air herself.

“Ha, don’t I know it,” Sho’cye reciprocates, grinning the whole time she goes to settle onto the rug. Smiling up at him, she pats the spot beside her. “Come sit. Or is the armor bothering you to?”

“I’m fine. I’ll just be here,” he refuses. At her face slightly falling, he immediately adds, “Just out of habit. Thank you, though.”

Sho’cye hums, recovering. “Ever the soldier,” she smirks, fetching a pillow and holding it to her chest. “Is that whole get-up going to be on you too when you’re out in the battlefield?”

He shakes his head, glancing down at himself. “No. This is just training armor. We use it for battle simulations.” He bangs his knuckles against his chestplate. His other hand hovers on his holstered blaster. “And these, uh, these aren’t loaded with live rounds. Practice only. Basically harmless, but still packing a punch if we get shot.”

Sho’cye eyes him teasingly. “Did you ever get shot?”

“In battle sim?” He ponders for a while, then shrugs. “Once or twice.”

She gasps. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“In your whole life? You’ve only been shot ‘once or twice’ in battle simulations?”

The look she throws his way is incredulous, yet there’s her sea green eyes that tell him everything – she’s mesmerized. Her lips slightly part with a curious look on her face prompting him to tell more and more of his story. Her fascination may contain childlike enthusiasm, but it drives enough heat onto his cheekbones in sheepishness.

“Uh… let’s just say by this point I’ve memorized almost every move those practice droids would make,” he shrugs, hoping that the dimness of the cave covers enough of his flustered cheeks. “They’ve got different commands, and I’ve been in hundreds of battle sims, leading the squad and cooking tactics. It’s, it’s kinda mandatory for me to catch what those clankers would do in every scenario possible.”

He needs to glance away at times to recover and prevent himself from stumbling on his own words, but that adorable look is making it difficult. He mentally shoves himself. Maker, you need to kriffing stop.

Sho’cye has been nodding along, taking care of his spoken words like a treasure. She hums, gaze pointing at his training armor. “So you’ll be getting a different set of armor when you’re deployed?”

Finally something else I can focus on that’s not about me. “Yeah.” He runs a hand across his blond, buzzed head to relieve some of the tension. He exhales heavily. “Depends on what kind, actually. My trainers and overseers are… considering putting me in the clone commander ranks, despite I’m a regular trooper.”

There we go again. Talking about yourself. Stupid, stupi–

“But your combat prowess proves otherwise, no?” She raises a single eyebrow.

“Exceedingly, yeah.” Shrugging, he folds his arms tight across his chest. “I’m surprised too. I mean, I’m surprised they’re gonna do that. I’m just doing what I’ve learned.”

Sho’cye ponders seriously for a moment – the earnest change in the atmosphere is enough for him to recover and finally the heat on his cheeks subsides, just in time as she continues, “Well, alright, maybe their programming slipped? Didn’t you say you are to be made Captain, eventually?”

He nods. “At that time I thought they were gonna veto it, but eventually I’m made an exception. Usually ranks are for command clones. The CC’s. They receive much more intense training, more tactical tests, just as much as leading the action on the battlefield. They’re engineered with more free thinking and intuition for the sake of making the best battle tactics, and with our Mandalorian independent culture our trainers have been fueling us with, they’ve become the best in the area.” He pauses. “And there are others like the RC’s, but what they do and learn is off-limits for us, even the CC’s. Classified kinda stuff. For now. All we know is they’re the super duper elite unit.”

Sho’cye’s eyes light up, her lips stretch into a beaming smile. “Okay. Now I’m more confident their programming slipped and got absorbed by you, then,” she chuckles. His own small laughter escapes him, having to look down and focus on every single ridge of his boots in order to, y’know, not blushing. “Have you received the command training?” she asks again.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head. He meets her questioning gaze. “But I’m told I’ll be formally assigned somewhere this year.”

“I hope soon. Your brothers must be excited about you joining them in classes,” she smiles fondly. The twinkle in her sea green eyes returns as she moves to another topic, “Have they had their names yet?”

“Some.” He tilts his head to recount. “Two-Four, not yet. Three-Six is Wolffe. Ten’s batchmates are getting creative and starting to call him Fox now, since he’s been reluctant to name himself. And he loves being an ass to Wolffe. Think it’s funny to name Ten after an animal too.”

Sho’cye giggles. “Those are good names, nonetheless,” she comments, nodding towards him. “How about you?”

He shakes his head again. Popping a list of possible nicknames he wants for himself hasn’t been on his recent to-do list, given he’s not in such a hurry. “Haven’t found anything fitting,” he says.

“Hope you’ll find one.” Sho’cye locks her gaze with him, a genuine, luminous smile reaching her eyes. “Considering you’ll be a Captain and all, it’s got to have a nice ring to it.”

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

Word Count: 1,853

[hybeboyenthusisast]

➺ seven (written)

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warnings: alcohol, drinking, frat party, gross boy trying to hit on yn, threats, minor violence (yn holds her own and she's my hero).

not edited because i dont edit hehe

wc: 861

Soobin actually really hated parties; and frat parties were the worst. Despite being in a fraternity, he never really fit in with the stereotypical frat bro. Sure, he was outgoing and fearless on twitter, easily able to public and unashamedly talking shit about Choi Y/N, but he was truly the opposite in real life. In real life, he found himself to be a people pleaser, frequently nervous, and much quieter than all of his friends. People pleasing, nervous, and quiet were the perfect words to describe how Soobin was gliding through the night.

He would chat with anyone who approached him, offer to grab them a drink, all with a smile and a carefree attitude. Inside, he was nervous they wouldn't leave soon so he could sulk in the corner like the loser most present would consider him as. While one of his classmates was striking up a conversation about their upcoming project, Soobin couldn't muster the energy to fully pay attention to the conversation. He either didn't care anymore, or he was drunk. Maybe just tipsy, though. He wasn't too sure.

His attention was not on Yeonjun's complaints of their professor, nor was it on the rest of the party, it was on you. He really did not care about what you were up to, and could have easily looked away without a second thought, proceeding about his night, sulking in the corner. But, he didn't. He was focused on you, dressed in a silky top and mini skirt that showed off your sexy legs (wait, sexy?). Your heels added some extra height onto you, though most partygoers still towered above you.

You weren't smiling or laughing, drinking and dancing with your friends. Not that Soobin really noticed or cared, of course, but you were often with your brother and your friend Jungwon, sometimes your cousin. No matter who you were with, Soobin always saw you having a good time at these parties.

Not tonight, though. Your arms were crossed against your chest, a frown etched upon your face. A member of another fraternity, someone Soobin recognized but did not know the name of, was speaking to you in a manner that Soobin instantly recognized was a sleazy way. The frat bro leaned in closer to you, reaching over and brushing your hair out of your face. You visibly cringed and stepped backwards.

Soobin couldn't hear what was happening between you and this creep, but he could put together the context. As you removed the man's hand from your waist, he grabbed you instead with both hands, appearing like he was trying to convince you to do something. Soobin may really, truly hate you, but he wasn't a monster. He knew that you were in a dangerous situation, and apparently nobody else had even noticed.

Muttering something to Yeonjun, Soobin began making his way across the large living room to intervene in your situation. He hadn't reached you yet when he watched as you ripped the man's arms off of your body and slapped him. When Soobin was finally within earshot (which was really pretty close to you, at this point, since the loud music was, well, loud), he could hear you shouting.

"Touch me again and you won't like where I shove your tiny penis! How do you feel about a meat grinder, bitch?" Soobin's jaw dropped at your threat. You apparently did not need any help. The frat bro's eyes widened and he quickly spun around and scampered away. "Can I help you, Soobin?" You had turned to him, an eyebrow raised.

Soobin gulped as he locked eyes with you; he could see the fire and anger in your eyes and knew he didn't want to argue with you or piss you off right now. "I was- I just," Soobin sighed, failing to come up with an excuse. "I saw what was happening and wanted to help you."

"Oh."

Your anger appeared to resolve as your body language shifted to be more relaxed. Your eyes, too, softened as they confidently gazed into his. The answer you were expecting, you didn't know, but you certainly hadn't thought Soobin would say that. "You so have a crush on me. As you probably saw, I can handle myself. Thanks, though, honey."

Soobin couldn't fight the blush that spread across his cheeks as you winked at him and turned, disappearing into the party. He did not have a crush on you, and he would never admit it, but even though he hated you, he knew how sexy you were. And having someone so sexy, even his enemy, speak to him in such a manner, was hot. But there was no proof that he watched your ass sway as you walked away from him.

You had no idea what Soobin thought as you were walking away, but you hoped that one day he would finally see you as more than a troublemaker twin. Truthfully, you were hoping that Soobin would see you even as just a beautiful woman, someone he'd want to be intimate with. You would be happy with a small slice of Soobin, even though you wanted the whole cake.

Loser Taglist (open!!) : @yangwaa @izzyexe @reiiydained @mackjestic @yawn-zzns @browniestraykidshiteu

Permanent Taglist (open): @junnmizz @ashxxgyu​ @igotkpoops​ @xiaoderrrr​ @alyssajavenss @mintxts <3

[pardi-real]

Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 4 - Feelings to Convey

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[Central Land, Maginaria]

We arrived at the city of Maginaria that night. As we got off the carriage in front of the inn... all the butlers who had arrived earlier were there to greet us.

Fennesz: "We've been expecting you, my lord."

Lamli: "Wow~! My lord, your outfit is absolutely splendid ♪"

Hanamaru: "Looks good, and our outfits are almost matching, right? Hehe. It's kinda like a date."

Yuhan: "Mr. Hanamaru… Please refrain from such offhand comments."

Teddy: "Please do, Mr. Hanamaru! The other butlers are giving you the cold stare!"

Flure: "Sigh... I knew you'd say that."

Hanamaru: "I-I feel like everybody is being unusually cold tonight... Sh-should we head inside the inn soon? My lord..."

Miyaji: "Yeah, that's right. You must be tired after being in the carriage for so long."

Lucas: "We’ve reserved the finest accommodations for you, my Lord."

Nac: "Yes. We've meticulously planned the security arrangements as well."

Lato: "Not even a single mouse can sneak in, so please rest assured..."

> "Thank you, guys"

[Maginaria, Inn]

I entered the inn, guided by everyone... It was quite a large inn. The interior was luxurious, almost like a hotel.

> "What a grand Inn"

Lono: "Right! Because my lord, all of us, and Lady Elvira will be staying at this inn."

Bastien: "For security reasons... We've booked this entire floor."

Boschi: "Hm? Speaking of which, where did Elvira go?  She was with us until a moment ago..."

Ammon: "Oh, her... She quickly headed to her room.  Those northern witches... Maybe they prefer being alone, rather than being in a place bustling with people?"

Boschi: "Hmph...  Even so, we're here on guard duty. It would've been nice if she said something before leaving."

Haures: "......For you to talk about manners……"

Boschi: "Huh? Got something to say, Haures?"

Haures: "No, it's nothing. Anyway... About tomorrow's plan, a few of us will take turns to guard her when she goes out. Meanwhile, the available butlers will accompany you, my lord...  And guide you through the city of Maginaria."

> "Guided city tour?"

Lono: "Yes! Because it's a special festival, after all."

Bastien: "We couldn't relax at the mansion... So, at least, we hope my lord will enjoy this trip."

Lato: "Kufufu...  We'll be accompanying you from tomorrow onwards. Rest early tonight… Please prepare yourself for the enjoyable times starting tomorrow."

"O-okay"

Yuhan: "Well then... Let us guide you to your room, my lord."

Teddy: "A soft bed is waiting for you!"

Led to the room by the butlers, I felt utterly exhausted after being rocked in carriage. I quickly finished bathing and dining, and laid my body on the soft, warm bed. Before long, I fell into a deep slumber.

~ Meanwhile, around that time ~

Tap, tap, tap

Muu: "Everyone, the lord is asleep! Seems like it's safe to start the discussion now!"

Berrien: "Understood. Thank you, Muu."

Miyaji: "So, Berrien. What's the discussion about?"

Berrien: "Yes. Of course, it's about 'the tarot card drawn by the lord.' "

Yuhan: "It's 'upright Death'...  Even though we're behaving as if we're not concerned in front of the lord... I'm still worried."

Hanamaru: "But come on. Isn't it just a mere fortune-telling? I mean, fortunes don't always come true. It's a hit or miss."

Berrien: "That being said... Lady Elvira's fortune-telling is famous for its accuracy."

Lucas: "That's right… With her fortune-telling indicating the 'upright Death'... The lord is probably... deep down, feeling anxious."

Berrien: "However... When we were in the carriage earlier... Lady Elvira mentioned something that concerns me. 'You already have a way to save the lord from a bad fate'..."

Lono: "Huh... What's that?"

Bastien: "Mr. Berrien, please tell us more."

Berrien: "Yes. According to her..."

........

Hanamaru: "Hmmm~... Through the tarot cards each of us has been given, look into ourselves... And then, the feelings that surfaced from it... convey them to the lord. I see...  I don't get it at all."

Teddy: "I don't understand the meaning either...  But if we follow as instructed, maybe it could save the lord? If that's the case... I think it's worth a try!"

Haures: "Exactly, I agree. Does everyone have their tarot cards with them?"

Boschi: "Yeah. Just in case, I've got mine in my pocket."

Fennesz: "Looking at these cards... Looking back at myself and the feelings they bring up... then...  Should I convey the feelings that come to mind to the lord?"

Flure: "I think we should. Although I don't understand the meaning at all... If there's a chance to save the lord... I'm willing to try anything!"

Bastien: "Yes. We've been spending almost two years with the lord. I can't imagine a mansion without the lord anymore."

Lato: "That's right. That's how much the lord has given us.  The lord saved me... Changed me..."

Haures: "Hmm... Yeah, indeed.  If the lord wasn't here... Some of us wouldn't be here in this world."

Berrien: "Yes... The lord didn't just save us. Our lives are heading in a better direction thanks to the lord. From before the lord arrived until now... The impression of everyone has changed a bit."

Miyaji: "Yeah... Absolutely."

Lucas: "The lord is... indeed a special person to us."

Haures: "Well then, from tomorrow onwards... As we discussed earlier, while strolling around the city with the lord... Each of us, the butlers, will convey our feelings.  Let's proceed with this plan. Does anyone object?"

Lamli: "Of course not! It's to save the lord, after all."

Nac: "If it's to save the lord, these feelings... I can keep talking about it for three days and three nights."

Lamli: "......Isn't that super annoying?"

Knock, knock

Berrien: "Oh? Who could it be at this hour...  I'll go and check.  ...Who is it?"

Prev | All | Next

[kagedbird]

Cicero Loves You, Listener! TESSDE AU - Dark Brotherhood route

~ [First] ~ [Next] ~ [Prev] ~

I peeked out of the door carefully, wincing as the bright light burned my eyes.

I’d been locked in this room for so long, I’d forgotten what anything brighter than a few candles was like. Not that my memory could remember much in the first place, but that was besides the point.

Cicero hadn’t returned as promised, and I was getting antsy. I needed answers about that voice, and… she wanted me to talk to him.

‘Darkness rises when silence dies.’ I repeated in my mind, stepping through the doorway slowly. It felt like I was breaking a rule, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I was going crazy in the emptiness. ‘Darkness rises when silence—!’

“Eep!”

I jolted, startled beyond belief as a giant fucking man stepped from around the corner in front of me. He didn’t even flinch as he stopped walking, merely looking down at me from his nose with a sneer and a glare.

“Who the hell are you, ham hock?”

“H-ham hock?” I echoed, feeling my body shaking endlessly in fright. I hadn’t heard him approaching at all! He was huge!

“Yeah. You look like a bite sized snack.” He huffed, leaning down to sniff me?!

I flinched back, stumbling backwards against the closed door behind me, and clutched the front of my shirt. “Did you just smell me?”

“Yeah.” He stood tall once more, tilting his head. “You must be the pet that jester brought in. Was wondering whose blood it was I smelled.”

“Smelled—” I shook my head, feeling incredibly confused and in slight pain as my left eye started blurring and burning like crazy. “What?”

“You must’ve hit your head hard.” He snorted. “At the very least, I know you aren’t much of a threat. Shaking worse than a leaf in a storm.”

“I’m—!”

“What’s going on here?” A beautiful woman rounded the corner, piercing blue eyes and blonde hair like my own. A large juxtaposition to the white haired, scruffy man in front of me, but no less intimidating as she fixed me with her own glare. “Who are you?”

“Allora,” I said quickly, feeling my pulse thumping aggressively in my throat. “I-I’m just… I was just looking for Cicero. Are you his family?”

A red head, a giant man, and a beautiful woman. What an interesting combination.

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked me up and down slowly. It felt like she was undressing me, but not in any sexual manner, more… assessing me.

“So you’re what he was hiding in there for so long.” She drawled, crossing her arms.  “What exactly has he told you?”

“Not much, really.” I admit, shaking my head. “That there are about nine of you, ten including someone’s pet. The religion you guys share, the tenets… that sort of thing. But not really in depth?”

There was a heavy silence that followed, and I felt myself panicking that I inadvertently got him in trouble. But at the same time, he hadn’t mentioned me at all?

That was incredibly suspicious. I needed to know what was going on.

“Cicero said he found me nearby, injured and unconscious.” I continued after neither of them said anything. “I’ve been recovering in there for about two weeks now. I think. I don’t… I don’t remember anything. I could barely remember my own name.”

“How convenient,” the man huffed. “We supposed to just believe that?”

“I-I don’t know how to prove it to you,” I said, shrugging uselessly. “Please, if I could just find Cicero—”

“And what do you need him for that you can’t talk to us about?” The woman interrupted me, making me flinch.

“I-I…”

‘They’re going to think I’m fucking crazy.’ I thought to myself, glancing to the side with a wince.

“If you so much as think of lying to me right now, you’re going to regret it.” The woman snarled, stalking forward to push me against the door.

“N-no, wait! I’m not— I wasn’t going to lie!” I squeaked out, gasping at the sight of a blade being pulled from her waist. “Pl-please—!”

“What is going on? Hm?”

I breathed a sigh of relief despite the position I was in as I looked up to see Cicero at the doorway, holding a plate of sweets. He may look incredibly angry despite his smile, but a familiar face was better than a face that was threatening me with a knife.

“Cicero!” I called out, breath hitching as the knife pressed against my throat more.

“Have you been sharing things with outsiders, Keeper?” The woman mocked, eyes never having left my face.

“Certainly not! Cicero would never betray the Night Mother so!” Cicero answered back, voice strangely tight despite his overall happy tone. “However, if you are to injure Miss Allora, you will!”

“What?” The woman asked incredulously, finally turning to the smaller man.

“Miss Allora, why are you out of bed?” Cicero asked instead, giving me a mocking pout. “Cicero knows you were eager to get up and about, but he cannot protect you if you don’t remain close!”

“Y-you were late, and I got worried, and—” I winced as the blade slipped against my neck, feeling blood trickling down. “And Mother spoke to me and told me to tell you darkness rises when silence dies!”

My heart was hammering in my chest a mile a minute as the three of them turned to me, wide eyed and slack jawed.

Cicero was the first to recover, skillfully hopping over and all but ripping the woman from me, gleefully jumping and clicking his heels. “Oh joyous day, joyous day! Cicero knew he heard you say you heard her before! Oh happy days!”

I clutched my throat to staunch the blood, unable to keep upright as I slid down the door to the floor. I was glad he believed me. This ‘Mother’ said he would, but she was also a fucking voice in my head.

So you can never really know.

“You’re the Listener?” The woman spat, glaring at me with all she was worth.

“That’s— that’s what she said,” I shrugged, letting Cicero help me to my feet when I had feeling in them again. “I-I don’t really know what it means…”

“Dutiful Cicero will explain everything!” Cicero crowed, gently guiding me to a bench nearby. I hadn’t even really noticed the rest of this secluded chamber, and only just noticed an intricately styled coffin and mural behind it.

I was sat down, and Cicero placed the plate of food next to me before gathering some salvant from his pocket. He moved my hand from my throat, tsking all the while under his breath about ‘harlots not knowing their place’, spreading the cold salve over my wound.

It tingled, but did feel better afterwards.

“Thank you,” I murmured softly.

“Dutiful Cicero is always here to help his Listener!” Cicero chirped as he pulled away. “He is so very sorry for being pulled away for so long, but he needed to find proper sustenance for himself and you! That, and he was hoping Mother would talk to you if he was not around!”

“Can you not hear her?” I asked, frowning.

He laughed. It wasn’t like his usual ones, though it was a very well practiced one. It felt slightly strained.

“Oho, Listener is very funny! But no! Cicero is the Keeper! He… keeps!” He claps his hands before motioning to the plate. “But Cicero can explain that another time, please, eat! You need to regain your strength!”

“By Sithis, you will explain what is going on, fool,” the woman spat out, snarling at Cicero with clenched hands. “How in Oblivion is she the Listener? And you just happened to find her?”

As angry as I felt on his behalf for the attitude, Cicero seemed nonplussed.

“Oh Cicero had a feeling Miss Allora was our beloved Listener for some time!” Cicero explained, grinning wide. “She was so kind, so kind! Helped poor Cicero along the roadside when that awful Loreius family refused to help!”

Loreius?

“She had mentioned hearing something from the box that contained Mother’s coffin before she left! Cicero was certain of it!” He clapped and jangled as he danced around.

A flicker of a memory came to mind. The blue sky, covered with clouds. A nearby farm. A giant wagon, a wheel broken.

A familiar jester…

I flinched as a hand came to my face, watching in a daze as Cicero pulled back his glove from my upper lip to show blood.

I gasped, covering my nose and pinching it, leaning forward to stop the blood flow from getting too bad.

“Are you all right Listener? Tell Cicero what is wrong so he can help!”

I shook my head lightly, feeling incredibly dizzy and light headed all at once. Was it because of the memories? Or stress? I couldn’t tell anymore.

I just felt myself slip forward into that listless void that knew me very well by now…

[natriae]

chapter 7

<prev | next>

masterlist

1.1k words

short one but the plot really gets shaked up

Running to the school you at least made it on time to pick up Isamu, and had enough time to compose yourself before he could tell you ran. The little boy ran out of the school and hugged his mother in joy. "how about go to the park," you said to the little boy.

"yes please," Isamu responded, he always used his manners, and you were glad your teaching has stuck with him.

Several blocks away Sakusa began following the direction Tendou and Ushijima went. When he finally caught up to them he shouted, "Ushijima!". His face was more sour than usual, and he was going to make it a problem for everyone. Sakusa walked up closer to the two men, and all friendship they had was lost. They turned around at the voice of a familiar man, but the voice was harsher then they've ever heard it. Getting closer to Ushijima, Sakusa held his head up high and stated, "you will stay away from y/n and her son, okay" He pointed his finger at the larger man's wide chest. He was serious about this whole thing. "don't contact her, and definitely don't get in touch with her son," Sakusa finished, "do you understand?" He wouldn't let Ushijima have her again. He hated having to lie directly to her face, but if it would keep her away from other men then he'll do it.

Both Ushijima and Tendou were taken back by Sakusa's statements. Tendou had to double check to make sure Sakusa knew who he was talking to. His eyebrows scrunched and he looked around the small plaza they were in. Taking a step forward, Tendou was about to put Sakusa in his place, whenUshijima put his arm out to stop Tendou from doing any harm. He knew his friend was just trying to be supportive and stick up for him, but he could defend himself. He lost y/n once he won't let it again. He would take every beating that came his way if it meant he would get to have you again. He's put in so much work, and he wants to prove that he's changed. Not moving from his spot, Ushijima rolled his shoulders back and asked Sakusa the most important question in his mind. "Is he your son?" He needed to know. Who does he have to compete with for your love? It's all he cared about since he was 19 years old.

Sakusa scoffed at his question. He looked around making sure it was real, and that Ushijima was seriously asking him that question. Ushijima's arms were crossed and his eyes squinted a little making sure he didn't miss any twitch in Sakusa's face. Sakusa couldn't help, but laugh at the man's actions. "You really don't know, do you?" Sakusa said with a smirk. He watched Ushijima remain unmoving. He scoffed again, sticking his tongue to the side of his cheek. " God you're a fucking idiot… guess somethings never change, huh" Sakusa said to bite at the larger man. "that's your fucking son, dumbass!" Sakusa said, shouting at Ushijima.

Tendou looked at Ushijima, apologetically. That's when Sakusa realized that everyone knew except the man himself. "You had no right to tell him that," Tendou stated in a sharp tone, shaking his head, "Ushijima let's go," Tendou said, grabbing Ushijima's bicep. Sakusa kept his smug face, and Ushijima took a deep breath to contain his emotions, and remained unmoving.

"You can beat me up. Degrade me all you want, but you can't tell me what to do. I'm going to keep pursuing Y/N," Ushijima kept his composure and said his statement in a confident voice. He didn't need to say much more, he knew he got his point across when Sakusa's smirk fell off his face.

Yet Sakusa tried to add more fuel to the fire and added, "she's gonna leave you. No matter how hard you try you'll just be the boy who fucked her and then abandoned her for a sport. She hasn't forgotten Ushijima," he finished. Ushijma walked away with Tendou to prove his point that he's not giving up. He didn't need to yell to get his point across. His mom always told him actions speak louder then words and that's exactly what he'll do. The whole walk back to his apartment Ushijima thought about messaging you to get the full truth. Hopefully that's still your number. Even if that was his kid, why would you hide him from him?

You Isa were now at the park, both on the swing set. You were stuck in your thoughts moving back and forth on the swing while Isa was swinging high. "Isa baby today I went to a really good Onigiri shop. When I get my paycheck I'll take you. How does that sound," you said, sounding hopeful about the future. Completely unknown to what was happening across town. Isa began to stop himself from swinging by stomping on the red patterned ground below the swing.

"That sounds fun," Isa said, you stopped yourself from adding to the conversation seeing that the boy was lost in his thoughts. "Momma," Isa said, looking at the ground. He seemed hesitant with his next words, "what did Atsumu mean when he called you Ushijima's girl?" he said. His eyebrows were scrunched together in thought, and it was obvious he was trying to find the answer out himself. Has he been thinking about this all week?

"Well, when I was in highschool I actually dated Ushijima… that's it wasn't a big deal," yes it was you thought you'd marry him.

"did you love him," he asked. He was quiet with it like it was a taboo topic.

"yeah, yeah i did love him," you said nodding your head. Still do for some reason. As hard as it was to indulge in these conversations it was nice to have these harder conversations with your son.

"why did you break up" he asked. His head was tilted waiting for your answer.

"it's adult stuff. I'll tell you when your older. It's nothing a little boy like you should know," you said leaning over and cupping his face. He nodded his head once just like his father, and didn't ask any further questions.

Once the two of you got home, ate dinner, and got ready for bed you were left in the same position as you were before. staring at Ushijima's contact except this time you were actually thinking of things to say. For 5 mins you've been sitting here typing and typing till you settled on a small 'hey, it's y/n' However before you could hit send the green haired man had sent you a message

fuck your life.

tags: @mineta-phobic @rukia-uchiha-98 @ssc7514 @megumuro

[faela404]

☆The Library ☆

kazuha x gn! reader

prompt: - you and kazuha attend the same university, him being a english lit major and you being a person in stem😎 your paths never crossed until that day in the library…

*this is an smau so please do expect a lot of twitter posts and messages to read, there will be proper writing too but, it will mostly be that!!*

warning! this chapter involves mentions of self- neglect, possible eating disorders, insomnia, swearing, implications of inappropriate acts (though it never happened), mentions of anxiety and biblical references (kinda? idk jesus and the bible was mentioned in a lighthearted manner)

masterlist - prev | next

☆it was a mistake ☆

i’ve been sitting here, on my phone, for over 6 hours now. this isn’t good. i’ve forgotten to eat again.

i’ve never been too good at taking care of myself, most the time i’m too engrossed in what im doing to remember that i need to eat, drink or even use the bathroom. however, recently it’s been getting worse. before, i would be able to remember by atleast 7pm but lately, i’ve been having my dinners at 12am, sometimes even later.

i suppose i should be happy i remembered just before midnight this time, but i just don’t see it that way. to me, this is still a failure.

pulling myself out of the warm comfort of my bed below me, i wandered out towards the kitchen. we never tend to have much food in, with us being university students it can be hard to get enough money for such necessities. nonetheless, i managed to find a packet of chicken super noodles (if you don’t know what these are or don’t eat chicken, just read it as your favourite type of instant noodles😌). careful i pulled open the bag and dumped the contents out into my bowl, along with the flavoured powder and some hot water from the kettle, before putting this in the microwave.

after finishing my noodles and placing the bowl in the sink to wash up another day, i once again returned to the comfort of my bed and bright phone screen.

i didn’t get to bed until 3:49am.

i woke up too late, again.

i’m going to be in so much trouble.

i wish my class wasn’t so small, then maybe the professor wouldn’t notice me as i slip through the door and attempt to make my way to my seat.

we’re doing lab work.

she notices me.

“how lovely of you to finally join us, y/n” god did she have to say it so loud. i feel so many eyes on me but, i can’t falter. i try my hardest to ignore them as she continues to speak.

“please stay behind once class is finished y/n, we need to talk” she sounds so smug. i give a curt nod and quickly scurry to my lab partner.

i must look disheveled, i can feel how red my face is, the sweat dripping down my neck- getting caught on the neckline of my shirt. mascara from yesterday is sure to be lining the underneath of my eyes.

my lab partner, lumine, looks worried. however, she seems to ignore my disgusting outward appearance as she begins to explain the experiment to me, giving me time to write down her words and the results.

class wraps up quickly. everyone begins to shuffle out, talking to eachother of their weekend plans, but not me.

i make my way towards professor ningguang. she looks angry but, she doesn’t shout.

“i did warn you there would be consequences if you was absent again, didn’t i?”

i’m so nervous, i’ve never gotten into trouble before.

“yes, professor but, i wasn’t able to get much sleep i’ve haven’t been able to-“

she cuts me off. she’s angrier than she’s letting on.

“i don’t have time for your excuses, y/n. you have been late 5 times in the past 2 weeks, that is completely unacceptable. however, with only 3 weeks left of school before winter break, i can’t give you the standard punishment for a disobedience such as this. instead, you will help out the librarian. ms. lisa has been complaining recently of the mess the library has become. for the next 3 weeks, you will go to the library after school and clean it until there isn’t a spec of dust left, do i make myself clear?”

im not sure if it was the nerves or the fear of her telling me this in such a calm way, but i made no move to object. i simply nodded and left as she dismissed me.

it wasn’t until i got back to my dorm that it truly sank in.

are. you. fucking. kidding. me?!

clean the library? everyday? for 3 weeks?!

i suppose it could be worse, but come on! i have a life, i have homework! i can’t dedicate every evening to cleaning a stupid library!

god, this is going to be miserable.

a/n - ahhhh this was so fun to create! i can’t wait for ya’ll to see the next part! i hope you enjoyed this and will enjoy the rest of the series! take care of yourselves <3

taglist- open! @kazuhaprnt

[verdantcrimson]

Heaven and Earth / Creation of Heaven and Earth - 5

(Unproofread)

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[The day after, on the grounds of a shrine in the Kansai region]

Ieyasu: —Absolutely, I’d be thrilled to help!

Ieyasu: If that show, which is like my dear child, is at stake, then stepping up is a matter of my pride as a man!

Ieyasu: Hrrmph! Hrrmph! Hrrmph…!

Kuro: … What’s up with the buff old guy workin’ out on shrine grounds?

Keito: Don’t be disrespectful.

Keito: That man is ‘Ieyasu-sensei’, often regarded as the leader of the ‘Three Sages.’

Keito: Furthermore, he’s one of the most renowned historians in Japan, though he primarily works as a Shinto priest.

Keito: Although our religions may differ, I’m the son of a temple too, so he’s the most relatable of the ‘Three Sages’ for me. Kiryu, Kanzaki, please don’t be rude.

Kuro: Hideyoshi-sensei rubbed that in my face real good, so I’ve understood that properly now. I’ll use a little more tact and be polite.

Ieyasu: HEY! YOU SPEAKING QUIETLY OVER THERE, DON’T MUMBLEEEEEE!!!

Kuro: What, so they’re all just gonna be pissed at me no matter what I do!?

Ieyasu: The problem is that young folk these days have no energy!

Ieyasu: The world belongs to you youngsters, and yet, all you do is meet with people you already know and talk incessantly!

Ieyasu: So in that respect, you are a fine one! Firstly, you have a good physique!

Kuro: Huh, ya mean me? Bein’ favored by a weirdo feels strange, hey!

Ieyasu: FWAHAHA, He called me a weirdo! I like your spirit! That’s how young folk ought to be! That’s the privilege of youth!

Ieyasu: What say you, would you like to work out with me!?

Souma: Fufu. This person has a personality that one would not expect of a scholar or teacher.

Keito: W- Well, when he was on ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’, he wore glasses and had a more intellectual sort of aura—

Ieyasu: I’m serious about my work, obviously.

Keito: And Hideyoshi-sensei too, behaved far more politely and intelligently on the show.

Ieyasu: DON’T SPEAK SO POLITELYYYY!!!

Keito: Huh!?

Ieyasu: I’d like for you to shake off the constraints that the adults have put upon you and stretch your wings freely!

Ieyasu: No, it is our duty to make sure that you can live that sort of life!

Ieyasu: That is why, as I said before, I shall cooperate with you to the fullest extent these old bones will allow for!

Ieyasu: However! You must promise me! Promise that you won’t damage ‘Rumbling Heaven and Earth’, the program that we have risked so much to create!

Ieyasu: You must respect your ancestors! Follow in the footsteps of those who came before you!

Ieyasu: We are but lucky travelers who just happen to be able to board the great boat that our predecessors built for us!

Ieyasu: That is my main principle as a historian! It is something I will never compromise on!

Ieyasu: Having energy is a virtue of youth, but that energy ought to be exercised in a healthy manner!

Ieyasu: Don’t waste your youthfulness on something stupid like destroying the artwork on display in a museum!

Ieyasu: That’s all I wanted to say! If you can adhere to these points, I will support you with all my might! Hrrmph, hrrmph, hrrmph…!

Souma: (whispering) It looks as though Ieyasu-sensei is quite similar to Hideyoshi-sensei, in that he is one who cannot be relied upon.

Kuro: I get the sense he’s a stubborn old geezer. Ah, he kinda reminds me of Itsuki’s gramps.

Keito: I understand the feeling though. It’s only natural to not want something important to you to change.

Keito: Ieyasu-sensei is known for being conservative, but that’s also the reason he is beloved.

Keito: More importantly, Ieyasu-sensei is the oldest of the three, with an impressive track record and authority in the world of academia compared to the other sages. That isn’t to say that the other two sages are unneeded, but—

Keito: If Ieyasu-sensei turns us away, then other academics in the field may follow his example and do the same, refusing to cooperate with us.

Souma: It seems that he is a heavyweight in the field, so to speak?

Keito: All of the ‘Three Sages’ are like that, in a way. For instance, Hideyoshi-sensei whom we met yesterday has a great reputation amongst younger scholars and college students.

Keito: You could even say it’s his ‘youthful charisma’.

Keito: Nobunaga-sensei, who we are scheduled to meet with, is extremely popular with women and foreign scholars.

Keito: In fact, in many countries abroad, you’d be more likely to find someone who knows of Nobunaga-sensei than the other two sages.

Keito: So conversely, if we manage to have all three Sages come together, we’d be able to garner support from all audiences. People of all ages, genders, whether they be Japanese or foreign.

Souma: That seems quite idealistic… However, as you had said earlier, Hasumi-dono, it is nothing but a pie in the sky at the moment.

Ieyasu: —By the way, you over there, by the looks of that sword you must be a member of the Kanzaki family, correct!? I have two or three questions to ask you, so come to the parlor room with me! I’ll serve tea!

Souma: Uwah!? Sensei, I implore you not to pull my arm so suddenly!

Kuro: Incredible. Kanzaki has a strong core y'know, so even if ya tried to push him by force he wouldn't budge an inch. That old man is draggin' him around like it's nothin'.

Keito: Don’t just be impressed by something so strange, we’re going after them, Kiryu!

Keito: SENSEEII, we don’t mind if you want to talk to Kanzaki, but if you could just cooperate with us on the program in return…!

Ieyasu: That is another matter entirely! It's not right for youngsters to be sly and use such conditions! If you're really a man, don't be cowardly and use clever schemes, use your body...!

Keito: It's no good! This sensei is the type that'll only understand the language of brute force! Kiryu, you're up!

Kuro: Eeeeh...? Well, I guess it's better than havin' to use my brain, right?

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[istherewifiinhell]

hand on rbing prev post as circling back around on sts thought apparently gave me enough to say it needed to escape the tags and be its own post. um! the emh from voy: my wife is a bitch and i love her so much

i think the emh is like. the exact definition of "the soul first shows itself by a gnashing of teeth" as its all well add good to appreciate the aliveness of nice and polite data who follows all the rules and is like. even MORE real than a flesh and blood person.

(in sense of his tangibility... his mechanical complexity and physical and mental competencies. are MORE than that of a traditionally recognized person. you know? not that that is an accurate summation of how the show acts about him. the only person who thinks that is julian bashir lmao. more often its like the. oh you disrespect him? well disrespect THIS! [he does a feat unmatched by any of the biological life forms around him] which... isnt exactly useful as principled, ideological and philosophic statement, about who gains the right of person-hood. OR RATHER! it is literally and precisely that, its conclusions sucks shit)

[Cam K podcast voice] when someone reaches for abstractions to doubt data's existent, the show throws materialist egg on their face.

The lynchpin in the proof of Data artificiality. Is that he has a PHYSICAL SWITCH, that can turn him OFF. This counters his otherwise uninterrupted verisimilitude of humanity. He looks like a toy. A thing. (Teenage wifi would like to point out if i had a big enough rock i could also turn riker off, but alas)

BUT the thing about the Doc, is that this guy ISNT "REAL". Getting shut down is not grand solemn act to the doc. It happens to him. ALOT. "Computer: End Program"... Hes so much more dependent on those around him. He isnt nearly the same as them. AND HES AN ANNOYING LITTLE BITCH about it. please turn him off when you done! please turn him ON to tell him things, and u could visit sometime... Turn your emergency holographic medical channel! cause this is a SENIOR STAFF MEETING. and hes the God Damn CMO.

AND. its not just mistreatment he gets (RIGHTFULLY!) angry about. Its that (as joelle correctly pointed out, ofc) when confused, or when things are wrong, when he has no control, he default right to agression! He is not a sad kicked puppy that goes 'oh' and 'i do not understand the meaning of ur behaviour' like data does. (again that sounds like data slander its NOT! i love data and wish ppl would stop laughing at him for having questions)

Whereas the biggest actual impediment of data's full recognition of personhood is his feelings, and suppose lack there of. He doesn't react to social stimulus the way people expect him too. If you try to goad him into a response he might say he 'is not capable of experiencing emotions such as you do' cause hes lacking the magic part in his brain that will do that. (to which... every neurodivergent person ever said: data, bestie, baby girl, they say that about a lot of people. you have clearly expressed internal experiences that are just... you baselines for emotion)

But to compare. When people say the doc isnt acting socially normal, which is an assholish thing to do, btw. HES READY TO BE AN ASSHOLE RIGHT BACK. His is INFACT, gnashing those holographic teeth! I don't think anyone has ever accused the doc of a LACK OF FEELING. Like, he has horrible beside manner, he "isn't programed for small talk"... but thats cause he's RUDE! He's too obviously prideful, snide, needling and just general, self involved for it to not seem like a DELIBERATE CHOICE that he is making.

And even when these traits are regarded to simple programing (which makes them... less real? 🤨) Examine the moments that are definitively about him claiming autonomy, engaging in recreation and becoming more self actualized. And find that a lot of them are angled to make him LESS likable. His hobbies, which he WILL speak about, AT LENGTH, include being a tropy writer, a photographer who makes hour long presentations, and a uncompromising operatic tenor diva.

(love when opera singer is used as insult, media wise, oh noooo ur TOO good at singing. your voice is TOO powerful, ur vocal control and ability to perform complex pieces in multiple languages is TOO impressive. lol. mr picardo ur so cool and u looked good doing it. frankly)

In the moments that serve to mark specific advancement in control he gains over himself, he gets to make himself MORE OBNOXIOUS! You do not, infact, get to recognize a someones full personhood without running the risk that you, specifically, might not like them! As a person!

And in dramtic turns. His true psyche breaking, foundation shaking experiences are acted to hell! It's uncomfortable to behold someone so emotional. Confusion and denial not expressed quietly, but belligerently. Meeting of sadness fear that can only be expressed as anger. Unlike the picturesq Adam and Eve figures from the end of R.U.R. (spoilers? i suppose). His awareness of the true personal impact and price of mortality is not signaled by a noble self-sacrifice, gentle weeping and pleading to not have someone taken away. It's a choice he made to save a close friend, instead of a distant coworker, when forced to choose between the two.

And then, his complete and total inability to comprehend, internalized and accept that fact. A person would be dead, truly and utterly gone from this world. Cause he wanted to save his friend instead. And the only way to ingrate this horrible fact of reality, the capital A, Absurd, was to do it as any human might.

Have a very public and loud mental breakdown, spend prolonged period of in which you cannot be left alone because your darkest thoughts will loop forever into themselves as you become more and more upset, and yet, neither can you simply avoid thinking about it, has the only way to come to terms with it is though a mire subjects that cause revulsion. The desert of thought the mind shrink from, and the truth that lies in it. Which. Is very inconvenient for all your friends who would really just rather be having a normal one.

In conclusion? The doc shows autonomy and sentience by being loud, opinionated and embarrassing. Rude, precocious, and easily offended. Self obsessed, high-mined, and anguished. Dependent, vulnerable and inconvenient. Which is to say he possible the most real anyone could ever be. That he has a much of a soul as any of us. That he is a bitch and i love him SO MUCH.