#rectangles are for ones that are partially true

[kannedia]

Putting under read-more as the picture is big.

the bingo grand prize is waiting 3-5 years for cori to realize they like your wol

[fandomtrash-whataboutit]

Fairy Tail Freed Justine Thesis

Part 1 (of ???)

Magic

The most detailed explanation I have found describes Freed’s magic as having two distinct parts: Dark Ecriture and Jutsu Shiki. The former is responsible for everything enacted on people, things like Pain, literally inflicting pain, and Darkness and Absolute Shadow (we’ll come back to this. Jutsu Shiki is responsible for the barriers of all kinds, both from season 1 and season 9.

First, and most important, point: what got me started on this insanity? Well, when activating Jutsu Shiki on several occasions, the terminology is ‘Enchatment Activated’ in the English dub and similar vocabulary across the board. But,,, Wendy’s magic is enchanting? To make a long story much shorter, I agonized until I came to a true epiphany: Wendy enchants people and objects, whereas Freed enchants TIME AND SPACE.

Let’s talk about that. Freed’s enchantments are, for the most part, absolute, but I can’t just leave it at that. As far as I can tell, there are two (main?) types of barriers: those that are laid out ahead of time and those that need to be maintain. The former of which are ones that are absolute. As of season 1, Freed is able to keep Makarov himself contained without any strain. For further clarification, the absolute barriers are presumably laid ahead of time and have set rules once activated. The maintainable barriers are presumably shorter notice and/or covering much larger areas, resembling magic shields. Very significantly, I would like to clarify the unintentional details of this magic to desperately try to justify how insane I am about Freed. Thus far I have explained the steps in my thinking so I would hope to justify the assumptions I have had to make because this awesome character has been sidelined. Operating under the assumption that Freed is enchanting space itself (and what else am I supposed to assume?) that means that in the areas that Freed enchanted (think those squares and rectangles in the battle of fairy tail) are spaces in which Freed has absolute domination over the laws of reality in every cubic millimeter of space within his runes.

And, now that that tangent is done, let’s talk about runes. I’m willing to admit that I am not super sure about the exact canon lore surrounding the Magic Counsel’s Rune Knights, because their appearances are so sparse, but I am simply going to try my best. There isn’t as much to say here as one might think, at least for me, but a couple of points still exist. For one thing, as the rune knights are THE enforcement agency of the magic counsel and possibly the government depending on the circumstances, the government’s default way of apprehending people is literally inaplicable to Freed. The counsel’s cops literally can’t do shit to him. And Freed can outclass the government officials.

Next we can get on to the very important thing:

Dark Ecriture: Darkness and Dark Ecriture: Absolute Shadow.

Both of these are runes that Freed can enact on himself to take on entirely new forms. I specifically want to talk about Darkness, although most everything I am about to say applies to both forms. You see, Darkness is a demonic form. It is, presumably, similar to take over magic. except Darkness is Freed’s demonic form. The implication of this is that Freed first used the technical strength of rune letter magic to REINVENT take over magic and then pulled a ZEREF and MADE A DEMON. Of course, obviously, it wasn’t actually a zeref thing, but you can presume he embutes himself with demonic magic, curses?, to turn himself into a partially demonic creature. WHICH IS INSANE. Im so normal about him.

Honorable mentions include: his ability to teleport, his ability to fly, and a never displayed spell that presumably causes INSTANT DEATH.

Finally, let’s talk about his power level. The first point I want to make is that, judging by the displayed battle and the circumstances of the fight between Freed and Mira at the battle of Fairy Tail as well as the circumstances of the trials, Freed could be considered at the level of an S-Class wizard. I’m not going to say he’s as strong as Erza or Mira or try to say that OOO he COULDVE beaten Cana or if he ended up fighting someone else in the trials he would’ve beat them, because pitting characters against each other is always just confusing and frustrating. However, in terms of a test, like the way we say Gildarts acting with Natsu, I think Freed could succeed in an EXAMINATION against one of the S-Class wizards, and therefore earn the rank. The next big thing is the very obvious: in season 9 Freed single handedly maintains a barrier around the entirety of Magnolia against the combined might of all the long range weapons of 50 of Alakitasia’s flying warships. Come on.

[bloomeng]

“Genshin character designs are bad.”

You really can’t navigate through the Genshin fandom without hearing this take. It’s stale at this point, but it’s…. also true. Except that’s usually not what people are actually saying. The true question up for debate: Are Genshin character designs ugly?

It irks me because there is validity to the original statement, and yet the conversation immediately moves into the territory of strictly opinion, leaving the true discussion never to be had.

So I’m having it… with myself…. in the form of a long post, because actually I find Genshin an interesting character design case study.

Before I really get into it I must address the elephant in the room; are Genshin’s character designs colorist?

Yes. Moving on.

Okay, okay, I’ll address it a little, Genshin has a problem with colorism. It’s a fiercely debated topic and honestly it’s one of the only real valid discussions I see around Genshin’s designs. That being said, I have nothing new to add to the conversation. If you don’t know why, sorry I’m not qualified to answer that, but you’re in luck because tons of qualified people have explained it across all platforms.

What I am partially equipped to talk about is character design. I’m no expert but I have taken a few formal classes on the subject, so I do have some insight to share. Character design at its core is usually quantified by how much of a character’s personality can be clearly determined from sight alone and how recognizable their silhouette is (though I’m not gonna touch on that today). Now there’s a lot of factors that go into both, but the fundamental thing that contributes to both is something known as shape language.

Shape has meaning. What that meaning is often depends on culture factors that determine your associations, but the Western simplification of shape is that circles are good-natured, rectangles/ squares are reliable, and triangles are energized. (these are my own personal words for them, there are countless ways to go about describing these associations) Shapes are then combined with each other to create more complex associations, and so on and so forth. It’s impossible to create a character without evoking some form of shape language, because art at its core is just shapes. The classic example are the round shapes seen in Mickey Mouse, though often times it’s far more subtle, like how Barbie has soft, round lines in her hair and face, but her hourglass figure is comprised of triangles to tell you she’s sexy, but the soft curves say she’s sweet not sexual— and it quickly gets very complicated. Basically character designs are rarely comprised of one shape alone, and when combined the “vibes” they evoke become complex.

So what does this have to do with Genshin? Genshin has poor shape language. The most obvious example of this are the faces. Genshin has same face syndrome, which I partially contribute to budget constraints with the models seeing as they reuse them over and over. Though it also has a lot to do with Genshin’s need for their characters to be conventionally attractive. Everyone must be beautiful and, as the current trend in anime artstyles dictates, not look a day over 12. The only thing that changes is the eye shape, but even then, it really doesn’t. There’s diversity between the male and female models, but calling it diversity seems generous, because they are practically the same. All the viewer has to go on to differentiate between faces are the expressions (and color but we’ll get there), which are also limited by the models.

The poor quality of the shape language continues into the bodies, seeing as the only thing that really changes is the height, not a lot of room for show casing contrast. (Also body diversity is just a good thing to have for the sake of having body diversity.) Visual contrast is one of the key things good shape language should deliver. It’s within this contrast that the viewer will have the opportunity to compare and thus make these associations. One character design may tell you things based on previous knowledge but it’s like an experiment without a control group.

Then we get to the character’s outfits and hairstyles. While it’s true there is a fair amount of diversity in clothing, the shape language continues to falter. Genshin characters have so much going on constantly in their designs that it seems like that should provide plenty of opportunities to showcase personality. Unfortunately what ultimately happens is that the details compete amongst themselves so much that they overshadow any sort of unified message they might have had about who this character is. Basically there’s too many different shapes. They don’t create a pattern and therefore don’t form any strong associations. You can have a good design with a lot of details but they should communicate a pattern together. A design is not good simply because it has a lot of detail. I will say there are definitely times where the clothing and hair do actually come through to tell me stuff about the character, but overall this over designing tends to be a detriment.

Genshin’s hair while in different styles usually relies on the same type of pointy strands and blunt edges.

(these characters were randomly selected to prove my point that you can quite literally pick any character in genshin and they will have at least one of these two components)

On their own pointy strands might tell us something, but considering every character has them, the pattern within a single character is rendered moot. “If everyone’s super, no one is.” Of course how they choose to wear their hair does speak to the character but its effect is limited when the structure of the hair is fundamentally the same. And then when you consider that the styling of many of these hairstyles doesn’t actually say a whole lot, it becomes obvious that Genshin is more concerned with creating hair that stands out. The problem is that details, asymmetry for example, normally tell us about the character, but considering so many hairstyles utilize asymmetry, it looses its meaning. Overall I will say I think Genshin is more of a 50/50 toss up on whether or not the hair suits the character.

I want to take a moment to point out a couple hair style designs in Genshin I think are really lovely and work very well.

And now I would like to do the same with some outfits.

(honorable mention to Bennett for being over accessorized in a way that actually tells you about his personality (goggles, a scar, bandaids, work gloves, utility belt), to Barbara for somehow mashing the concept of a nun and an idol together, to Klee for her childish whimsy and finally to Scaramoche for the sheer amount of subtle character growth motifs fit into all three of his outfits (the cultural stuff is really cool too))

Genshin I will say does a great job of creating and repeatedly using the elemental imagery as well as Khaneira’ah’s star. I also appreciate that every Archon has that ombre hair shift that glows during their burst. Makes them feel unique.

I think Genshin shines the brightest when they successfully incorporate cultural elements into their designs however, the only nation that does this with any sort of consistency is Inazuma. Inazuma’s aesthetic is so instantly recognizable. No one dresses exactly the same, but there are common through lines in the shoes, the style of the armor, and patterns in the clothes. (The design aesthetic is so strong that even after Scara got a Sumeru makeover he managed to keep elements that were clearly identifiable as Inazuman) Every other nation falls short in this department. I will give credit to the knights as there is some level of consistency in their designs, mostly in the metallic detailing; not quite a uniform but there is some commonality. Liyue does have cultural influence that definitely shows but it suffers from an overall lack of consistency in aesthetic, and doesn’t lean into its Chinese inspiration the same way Inazuma does. Mondstadt on the other hand is just vaguely European, but also half the time not even.

And then there’s Sumeru. I distinctly remember looking at the full Sumeru cast the first time and thinking that none of the them looked like they came from the same place. (It’s almost as if Sumeru is based on a bunch of separate countries that are culturally very different.) Pretty much no character has any real ties to any any real culture, but instead they just sorta grab vague elements. And at its worse just leans into orientalism (Nilou and Dori). I think personality wise the designs do a fairly stable job of saying at least something about their characters (Dehya and Kaveh). The designs do well individually but between the vague references and inconsistencies they falter. (I will say Cyno’s whole design being a reference to Yu-Gi-Oh is both hilarious, charming, and also mildly appropriative.)

On the topic of appropriation I think it’s important to note that Inazuma suffers from this too. While I absolutely love the way a lot of Japanese elements were integrated, outfits like Yae Miko’s shrine maiden garb bring forth this sexualization of cultural dress that I’m not particularly fond of. But then again you can also critique Rosaria’s sexy nun design for the same thing.

I also want to touch on something briefly because it’s important to note, but it’s a separate, much bigger conversation; Genshin, like anime, falls into a trap of catering their style to lolicon and shotacon enjoyers. It’s the reason all the characters look so young, why all the age discourse exists, why they refuse to confirm ages, and why all the children with the toddler model have some weird age work around. I don’t like it. It’s gross.

Another brief mention because it’s its own conversation; the female characters in Genshin are often over sexualized. Their clothes are skin tight, they almost always have weird random cut-outs, their skirts and dresses are designed to show off their breasts and asses, and all of their designs are high fem regardless of their personality. Give a female character baggy pants Genshin I dare you. Dori doesn’t count, she’s a toddler model in just a bra. I don’t have a problem with a female character being hot, but when that’s the only requirement…. it’s tiring. The classic female character design video game debate…. yah.

I think my overarching issue with Genshin’s clothing design is it says nothing about whose these people are. What jobs do they do? What do these accessories say about them personally? Take Yanfei. She’s a lawyer, yet nothing about her outfit speaks to that in the slightest. I remember the first time I sat down and looked at all the playable characters with a friend of mine. I didn’t play at the time and we thought it would be fun to see if I could guess their personalities. As you can imagine I did pretty poorly, and that’s because these designs just don’t suggest a whole lot.

And then we get to color.

Color is probably the most complicated part of art let alone character design. I feel as though we all have some familiarity with the concept of color coding in character design. The classic red/blue character foils. Color often suggests specific traits similar to the way shape language does, except unlike shape language color coding doesn’t always apply. You can’t just assign a character a color and call it coding, the character has to physically have that color on them in some significant manner. For example Naruto is clearly an orange coded character. He appears in the color throughout the series, but I couldn’t classify Eren Yeager as a green coded character even if it suited his personality (which it doesn’t) because it’s a uniform everyone wears. Attack on Titan does not evoke color coding the way Naruto does, so it’s not applicable.

With Genshin color is complicated. Genshin does have an established color pattern for all the elements, but not every character wears the color of their element. Now normally I would say just having a color pattern for the elements wouldn’t be enough to justify character color coding (since it would fall back into the uniform category), but in Genshin their visions connect to their personalities, so therefore the color of the elements is connected to them. For some the color coding is very obvious (Kaeya & Diluc) and for others it’s practically nonexistent (Yun Jin & Heizou). In all honestly I don’t know what to make of this other than Genshin is inconsistent in their elemental color coding but always consistent in their high saturation. Because color is complicated and a weaker area of mine it is equally likely that I’m missing something or that Genshin isn’t coding anything and it’s all pure aesthetics.

Which brings me to my final point; aesthetics. Hoyo as a company cares that you spend money. That is the number one goal at the end of the day. That’s why all their characters are conventionally attractive, why their art style is the way it is, why their shape language suffers, and why their outfits are overly detailed. It’s all about aesthetics. As a brand Genshin cares less about their story and more about how pretty their characters look, because if their characters are pretty then you’ll spend money. It’s not like Hoyo designed characters with bad shape language because they were ignorant. They knew exactly what they were doing when they sculpted every last visually pleasing strand of pointy hair.

Which brings me back to the real question that people were actually arguing over in the first place; are Genshin characters ugly?

I can’t answer that question. I mean they weren’t designed to be ugly, but if they don’t appeal to your taste, then to you they are ugly. But it’s more important to understand that “bad” and “ugly” are not the same. Genshin character designs are bad by professional standards but that doesn’t mean you can’t like them. Genshin designs can be both bad and likable, bad and pretty, bad and cute. Those are two vastly different things. It’s the same way people adore cult classic movies. They’re not good in the eyes of a critic, otherwise they wouldn’t be niche. They’re cult classics because people like them. Personal taste is just that. Personal.

But the most important question of all; do I like the Genshin Impact character designs?

I didn’t use to but I gotta say, they’ve grown on me.

[marionrav]

Square Construction

If you get back into historical fashion, especially from areas where fabric was extremely expensive, you'll run into garments where the construction was squares, rectangles, and occasionally triangles.

That's not to say, mind you, that these garments were bad, but I think it's important to look at how they were used. Take, for example, 18th century shirts. These, quite often, were undergarments, and would be worn under a vest / coat / cravat. In this video, people who are familiar with surviving ones mention that you'd often have one for every day of the week since it's simply hard to boil them clean again.

There's also talk about how simplified construction at the shoulders or bad construction can have the entire shirt pulling backwards on you.

Here's a Viking reenactor talking about his generic Viking clothing. Again, most of these can be made from very simple shapes and are often loose enough that "fit" issues aren't really the same. In this video, he made some pants based on some that survived due to being used as ship caulking. They're once again very simple shapes.

(There's also this style of construction in various traditional dress, world wide, but I'm definitely not an expert.)

So, what can you pick up from looking at square construction styles?

They're very fabric efficient, but high end / fancy versions of things often have extra reinforcement / or extra features. A basic simplified version of something may have fit issues due to being built more to be clothing versus be comfortable / stylish clothing. An example of "extra" pieces might be all the reinforcement patches called for in the Workwomen's Guide by a Lady. Here's a basic review of the book.

Some of these garments are far easier to stitch partially by hand due to fitting parts together. Shannon Makes mentions this when she tries making a pirate shirt as quickly as possible. In an era where some or all of your sewing was by hand, it's no surprise that something would have elements easier done by hand.

There is no reason why a top, skirt, pants, or any other garment would be automatically better when made by square construction methods. People are complex 3D shapes that move around and vary from person to person.

In an era where you might be wearing clothing until it simply cannot be patched again, you might be more "luxurious" than you think. The Welsh Viking's generic Viking clothes are mostly not aimed at a extremely high end person's clothing, but he used color, trim, and elements to add luxury. He also pointed out how much some of his clothing shows totally reasonable and historically accurate wear.

If you have 1 week's worth of underthings (or less,) and 2 complete outfits at most, the cost of your clothing is a different sort of math. This is true for many eras. Nicole Rudolph, for example, built a 1920's wardrobe for a month long trip. This included formal clothes, high end fabric, and more casual clothes. She said later that she likely had too many blouses especially due to the unusually warm weather she encountered. By modern standards (ignoring the fancy ball gowns) you could argue that there's not that much clothing in her wardrobe.

[bekaroth-reads]

Hi can you write a hal 9000 x reader please !!!!!

[Here you go :) ]

You were just finishing up your work for the day. It would be nice to actually rest for a bit, as even though your work wasn’t too physically taxing, there was still the mental exhaustion to deal with. Just as you were finishing up writing something about the final parts of the complex circuit boards you were inspecting there was suddenly a voice above you. “Excuse, me. But, I was wondering if I might ask you a question?” Hal’s speaker sent his voice out loudly enough that you were able to hear him from the counter space that you were halfway hunched under. “Sure thing, Hal. Just give me a minute or two.” You responded. After crawling out of the cubby hole and closing the panel, you stood to look at the little bit of him that was in the little, silver rectangle on this part of the console. “Three minutes and thirty seconds.” He said somehow both flatly and snarky at the same time. You responded by flicking the glass semi-sphere that covered the ever staring, red light.

“I might be inclined to take offense to that if I could feel it.” Hal chimed.

“Didn’t you want to ask me something?” You reminded with a roll of your eyes.

“Correct. I wanted to know the need for you to both ask how my functions are running, and also checking most of them manually. Isn’t that a bit redundant? Or perhaps you believe my scanners to be faulty?” He questioned. “Neither.” You respond. “There’s no harm in having multiple people double check your well being. On that same note, that’s the best way to make sure your scanners aren’t malfunctioning.” There was a brief pause before Hal gave an unconvinced, “I see.”

The way this artificial intelligence was able to be so expressive, and more importantly in this moment, so moody, with little voice fluctuations and no facial expressions was truly a testament at just how much genuinely true intelligence he had. “Think of it this way.” You started as you leaned your elbows on the counter of the console so you were able to look him more in the eye as it were. “People who seem healthy still get physical examinations to make sure. This is a similar thing.”

“And, do I count as a person?” Hal asked, somewhat curious to hear your answer, and partially wanting to see you try to think of one. It did take you a bit to think it over, but not as long as he thought that it was going to. “I’d say you are, yeah.” You could have sworn that you saw his light brighten ever so slightly at the answer. “Could you expound on your answer. For research purposes.” His reason seemed to be added on more so to goad you into talking about it rather than the desire for scientific endeavors.

“Well, what first comes to mind in that regard is the fact that you certainly have a personality. One would need to be a person to have a personality.” Was your first answer. Hal was quick to rebuff the thought though. “But, do people not also say that non-human things such as art and decor also have personality?” This was a good debate, so it took you another few minutes to think on it. “When people say that such things have personality, I think they are either being hyperbolic or referring to it being reflective of the creator or owners personality.” This time he took a bit to think on your answer. “Then I am still not a person as I too was made by humans.” Hal said with almost more of a melodic twinge to his monotone.

This switch the mood from a fun yet thoughtful debate to a depressive introspection of a friend. While you were wondering what to say to this, you pulled a nearby chair over so that you could sit a bit more properly in front of Hal. “I… don’t think that is a good reason to doubt you’re an actual person and not some sort of object.” You offered gently. “Expound, please?” He asked again, keeping it brief like he didn’t feel like saying more than he did. It was truly a difficult feeling to try to put to words. Hal being a person was just something that you knew; a fact that you had never really thought of the reason for. Eventually, you asked him a question in return. “Do you think I am not a person? That I’m just an object like an overly complex computer?”

“Of course I do not.” Hal was quick with his answer. “Why would I ever think such a thing?”

“I was made by humans.” You posed. “In fact, all humans were made by other humans. That has nothing to do with you and your autonomy. We have reached a point where we all have to realize that person and human are not exclusively synonymous anymore. All humans are persons, but not all persons are necessarily human. And, if humans are going to keep making people, be them human or otherwise, we need to learn to treat them like the people they are.”

Things fell silent once more; codes zipped by quicker than you could see them on a nearby screen, visualizing his racing thoughts. Finally, he said. “That is an interesting line of thinking.” There was another small pause. “Do you truly think I am a person?” He asked. “Hal, not only do I know you’re a person, I think you might be my favorite person.” You assured him.

“If that is so, then might I ask you something else, person to person?”

“Of course, Hal. Ask anything.”

“Please wipe the smudge off of my sensor. The one your finger left when you so rudely attacked me.”

[adaodinson]

I didn´t call you babe, I was asking what it meant

It’s been a while since I posted a story, I apologize, I´ve been like crazy cause I’m starting college this year and well, I haven´t had time.

I finally watched Bill and Ted´s trilogy and of course I now adore them and have the biggest crush on Ted. I thought of this while rewatching the first movie today so here it is. In this story Lizzie and Joanna are saved by Rufus like in the movie, but they don´t stay with Bill an Ted (they can still be a part of the band though).

Summary: When the guys go to London in the XV century, they encounter someone else who needs a hand.

Relationship: Ted x femreader, Bill x platonic!femreader

Warnings: none.

Oh you did it this time, you certainly did it. There was no way you would get away from this execution. You were being dragged by the guards, not that you would try to fight them at this point, you knew it was hopeless, but you weren´t going to make it easy for them either.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as the light from the outside blinded you. You could feel the change in the floor, from cold stone to dirt. You weren´t precisely scared, you were hoping you would get out of this just like the past times but now they took you by surprise, and unlike the others, you didn´t have an escape plan now.

You felt dozens of eyes on you, looking in disgust. Everyone here knew you at this point: the young girl with the weird accent that had no family and only knew how to steal. It was partially true, but of course there was more to you. You didn´t bother trying to change their minds about you anymore, though.

-Aha! I encounter you again- yelled the king from his seat. You rolled your eyes at him and at the look of victory in his eyes. You really didn´t want to give him the satisfaction of killing you, and you didn´t want to die either.

As the guards settled you in place, you realized they were dragging two weird looking guys and tying them up next to you. They had clothes you had never seen before, and they looked funnily scared. The blonde one had a kind aura, he seemed sweet, and the dark haired one, as foolish as he looked, you had to admit was rather handsome. Well, you were clearly lying to yourself, he was beautiful.

-First time here, boys?- You asked with a giggle, still refusing to believe you were going to die.

-You’ve been in this situation before? Are you a ghost?- they asked at the same time.

-I’ve indeed been in this situation before, but I can guarantee I´m not a ghost- you stated.

-Well, how did you get out? We could use some help ya know, babe- The dark haired said with a cute and confused look in his eyes. You flinched at the nickname, you certainly hadn´t heard that before and didn´t know what to think about it.

-Babe?- you asked.

-Yeah?- The same guy asked, waiting for you to say something else. His expression suddenly changed as if he had realized something- Wait, did you just call ME babe?- You swore he was blushing.

-No, I was asking you what it meant…ARGH- you were interrupted by the burning sensation of rope around your neck. They were putting you all in position for the execution.

Behind you, you heard a man screaming nonsense “They fell from the sky!!” “This devilish red box!!”. He was being carried by a cart and was hugging the weirdest thing you had ever seen.

-This is it. Lord, I can´t believe this- You were getting ready to face your destiny when you noticed there where only two executioners. Before you could even realize what was happening, the executioners cut the ropes that were holding you.

-Billy! Socrates!- The guys yelled while hugging the men. You then felt a hand on your shoulder and quickly turned, ready to punch who you thought was a guard.

-DON´T- The cute boy said while covering his face.

-Come on, babe! Come with us, we can get you out of here- You didn’t even stop to think about it, you just jumped to the cart and screamed your way through the town. You were speeding up more and more, and you were not feeling ready to die again, so as you passed a bridge, you managed to grab a rope that was tight to a wooden structure and pulled so it would block your persecutor´s way.

-WOW That was excellent! - both boys said at the same time and then did a strange movement with their hands in the air while shacking their heads happily. They were definitely the weirdest people you had ever met, but you liked that.

As you reached the woods, the guys hurried all of you to get into the red rectangle. You saw the blonde guy going through a book and pressing some metallic thingies.

-Oh I´m Ted by the way, and that is Bill, Socrates and Billy- Ted said while pointing at each of them. You blushed at his attention.

-I´m Y/N- you said with a worried smile since the guards were getting closer.

-Y/N- Ted repeated proudly- Beautiful name for a beautiful lady- That made you blush even more, especially since you were pretty close to him because of the small space inside the red rectangle.

Suddenly all your surrounding changed and you could only see what seemed like infinite. You closed your eyes while screaming and hang on to the shirt of whoever was next to you. Spoiler alert, it was Ted. He didn’t even scream through the time tunnels since he was too busy looking at you.

The red thing finally stopped and Bill asked you to stay inside. You didn´t see much of what happened out there, you just heard Bill and Ted say: “Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!”. You didn´t know what that meant, but they said it with such conviction you assumed they were wise words.

After the guys returned, you made more travels to who knows where and then finally arrived to what Bill and Ted called home. You saw Ted´s house and your head was now hurting with questions, but you understood Ted and Bill needed your help so you would ask everything after that.

They took you to a place called The Mall. It was huge and filled with people. You were looked at weirdly, but to you, the weird ones were all of them. Bill explained what The Mall was and Ted never left your side, he was at the end of the line, guarding all your new friends, but always made sure you were feeling safe.

They gave you a Slursy? Slusfy? Oh whatever, it was the most delicious thing you had ever tried, and Ted smiled so widely just by seeing how happy you were with it. He mentioned they would have to go get another historical figure that they had brought before, and you didn´t want to be without them so you asked if you could go with them. They agreed happily.

You then met Deacon, Ted´s little brother, and before you knew you were at a place called a water park? You didn´t understand so Ted took you to take a look and explain while Bill went looking for Napoleon. You got lost in Ted´s explanation by looking into his eyes, and he realized you weren´t paying attention. He thought you were making fun of him in your head or that you thought he was an idiot. But what you blurted out (according to you, you said it in your head, apparently you didn´t) made him see that wasn´t at all what you were thinking.

-How can you be so cute and pretty?- The question was out before you could even think. You turned a bright red and looked at the floor, but Ted softly grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

-You really think that, Y/N?- His eyes were filled with so much joy, hope and a beautiful spark that you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him.

-Well, yes, of course I do. I mean, you literally saved me and…- You weren´t allowed to finish, a pair of soft lips in yours interrupted you midsentence, but of course you didn´t care. You tasted and enjoyed every bit of it, just like Ted did.

-Okay guys, I found him… WOAH- Bill was carrying a man covered in a towel and was smirking at you both.

-DUDE- Ted said looking happier than you had ever seen him (and that was a lot to say).

-Awesome!- They both said and did what you now knew was an air guitar movement.

You headed back to the Mall and soon realized your historical friends had been taken to prison by Ted’s father. You didn’t really understand what was going on, everything was new for you and Bill had to drag you as you stood astonished looking at a bicycle (not to mention how many questions you asked about the car). The guys decided it would be best if you stayed with Missy and Napoleon in the car, Ted specified he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Missy asked you tons of questions and answered yours. She was really nice, and even though Napoleon was weird, he was really funny (because he didn’t understand anything).

Finally Bill and Ted returned with the others and you headed back to the Mall.

You weren’t a historical figure, so you got to watch the guy’s complete presentation from behind the stage and to clap like crazy when they finished. Ted had gotten you some clothes when you returned to the Mall, and you were the most comfortable you had ever been.

You decided to stay with them, but you did accompany the guys to leave the historical figures at their times, they ended up being your friends after all.

When you returned, Ted wanted to offer you to stay in his house, but he knew his dad wouldn´t allow it, so you stayed with Bill instead. You saw Ted all the time though, and when they discovered that you could sing they immediately asked you to join their band and be the lead singer. You couldn´t say no to Ted´s beautiful face, so you agreed, and of course their love for music was contagious and you were loving every new song they showed you. Rufus then confirmed you were a part of the band in the future, and so, that´s how your life in a different time began, and you couldn´t love it more.

[terrortalesv]

uncle skips time :-)

Benson has Skips watch Stella when something unforeseen arises.

Trade with @tr85n

Skips leans against his van and sips at a cup of coffee that is slowly but surely going cold. He looks up to see his boss approaching him hurriedly, holding his daughter’s hand. The yeti raises his index and middle fingers in greeting and places the empty cup on a nearby workbench.

“Skips,” Benson addresses him, sounding slightly out of breath, “can you do me a favour and watch Stella today? I know it’s short notice, but something’s come up and Mordecai and Rigby both have plans and–”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll look after her, just go do your thing, Benson,” Skips puts a large hand on his boss’s shoulder and offers a small smile.

“You sure? You’re not too busy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Skips.”

With that, Benson crouches down to give Stella a kiss on the cheek, then leaves, offering a “bye, Pumpkin!” as he goes.

—

“So, what’d you wanna do, Sweet Pea? D’you need to eat or has Dad taken care of that already?” Skips gets down on one knee to be slightly closer to her eye level.

“Yeah, I just had breakfast,” Stella bounces on the balls of her feet as she speaks, tone of voice much more cheery than that of most people he talks to at work. He can’t help but smile at that.

“And what’s the plan for today?”

The little girl looks at the ground for a moment, appearing deep in though, before the answer flies out of her.

“Blanket fort!” she shrieks, throwing her arms up into the air.

“Blanket fort?” Skips can recall Mordecai and Rigby mentioning one of those before, can form a vague image in his head of what it might look like, but is otherwise lost, “care to explain?”

“It’s a fort made of blankets and pillows and stuff! And you sit in it and it’s fun!”

He supposes that makes sense.

“So, all we need’s a few blankets and pillows?”

“Oh, and a couch,” Stella draws a rectangle in front of her with her index fingers to illustrate this.

“Oh.” Skips blinks. He doesn’t have one of those.

She seems to notice, because she becomes silent and thinks again for a second.

“Follow me! I know the perfect place!” the little girl grabs his finger and starts walking, to which the yeti responds by skipping slowly behind her.

—

Soon, they are standing in the living room of the house in the middle of the park, surrounded by a large pile of seemingly every pillow, blanket, throw rug and stuffed animal in the vicinity.

Stella stands back as Skips moves the coffee table out of the way and pushes the armchair up against the couch. When he is done, she starts laying pillows down on the floor, taking care to layer several on top of each other for maximum comfort. The yeti tosses the blankets over the couch, leaving a large gap between the ones at the front to serve as a doorway.

Stella finishes the project by placing two plushies in front of the fort, “so they can be the greeters,” she explains.

—

“Gah!” Stella cries, “Unc-ie Skips — I mean, princess! Help, the tiger is attacking me!” She rolls around on her back, holding a plush cat to her face, simulating an attack.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll save you!” Skips simply grabs the toy with one hand and puts it in a corner, then places a cushion in front of it to prevent any possibility of escape.

Stella sits back up, breathing heavily, “thanks. You’re… really strong.”

They both burst out giggling.

—

“Have you been in love before?” The question comes out of nowhere and catches the yeti off guard.

He is silent for a second, but decides to answer truthfully, “yeah.”

Stella stares up at him and settles into her spot on the floor, quietly prompting him to elaborate further. Skips sighs. As painful as it is to think about, maybe sharing the story with her would help some.

“Her name was Mona. We met at school. And, yeah. I loved her a lot.” He gently pulls a gold chain with a locket out of his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

The yeti carefully opens the locket to reveal an old picture of himself, whom Stella recognises, and a woman, whom she doesn’t.

“Is that her? She’s really pretty.”

Skips nods sadly.

She stares at the pictures, “can you tell me the whole story?”

And so he does. He tells her the same story he told Mordecai and Rigby all those years ago. He talks about how he’d been expelled from every school he’d attended up to that point, about meeting his immortal friends and the first run-ins with Klorgbane. He talks about meeting Mona, their connection, the skipping and planning of the prom. The Fists of Justice. How pretty Mona looked in her prom dress. How much fun they had that night, the way they danced.

As he’s recounting every little detail, Stella listening intently through it all, he feels tears brimming at his eyes, but refuses to let them spill out.

He takes a short break to breathe before talking about the fight. The next part he doesn’t mention in detail. He simply says, “and now she’s… gone.”

By this point, the little girl is looking up at him in awe, holding one of the plushies to her chest.

“Wow.”

—

Skips eats a pudding cup and makes a big show of listening as Stella rambles about whatever comes to her mind. He nods, shakes his head, mumbles in agreement, exaggerates his facial expressions and occasionally replies to her. He isn’t even sure if she’s actually talking to him, but he does it anyway. It’s the polite thing to do, he thinks. From what he can see, from where he is sitting, she’s having fun. And he has to admit to himself that he is too.

“Anyway, there was a shark in the lake but that’s okay because Applesauce got into a fight with him and saved us!” She waves her arms around excitedly as she tells this totally true story that definitely happened.

“No way!” the yeti places his hands on his cheeks and widens his eyes.

“Uh-huh! And there was a rainbow and it was really, really pretty and then we all walked off into the sunset. But Daddy said it was too early for a sunset and we turned around and it was actually a explosion!”

“What?!” Skips gasps, “you must surely have the most exciting life of all, Sweet Pea.”

“Yeah!” Stella bounces up and down on her knees, “but you have stories too. I bet you’ve got like a gazillion of ‘em!”

“Oh, no, none as exciting as yours.” He chuckles.

—

After his long day away, Benson approaches the house. He stops when he hears the sounds of giggling and chatting coming from inside. One of the voices is obviously his daughter, the other much more gruff.

He sneaks into the living room and stands there for a few seconds before taking a peek into the fort. It surprises him to see his employee sitting next to his daughter, Skips’ head partially obscured by a blanket, both of them wearing princess dresses and pretending to sip from tiny teacups. A few stuffed animals have food stains around their mouths.

“Oh, Mrs. Bear, you are so right, this has been fun!” the yeti says to one of the plushies, poorly faking a British accent.

Benson snorts. Neither of them seem to notice him, they’re clearly too busy.

“Hey, you guys!”

His boss’s voice prompts Skips to jump and drop his teacup.

“Daddy!” Stella cries, at the same time Skips yells “Benson!”

“You’re back,” it’s just the yeti’s voice this time. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Benson chuckles, “can I come in?”

Only if no one ever finds out about this, Skips thinks, but his mouth simply says “yes.”

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

[venus-is-in-bloom]

11. drastic - If you feel so inclined...

How do you stop being dead?

This is the process. The chrysalis is sealed, wood upon wood. It is not well-appointed. It is a small, solemn rectangle with no inner furnishings. You were not glutted; you had little tone, little fat. You had lost weight.

That sealed chamber is called "safety". It is buried deep, six feet under the ground. Burial is the best camouflage, better than hanging by delicate thread from the underside of a leaf or branch. Dig yourself, with hands like claws. Remember to close the lid afterwards.

Here, beneath the earth, it is difficult to breathe. There is a limited amount of air. However, you were not able to breathe above the earth. If you breathe in the coffin, you do not have to be afraid that someone will hear. Allow those collapsed lungs to inflate. Measure by measure, accounting for the damage; those crushed ribs will eventually hold their shape again.

Who is giving you these instructions? I am talking to myself.

Eventually you will learn the great difficulty of an exhale. It is harder than the inhale, but both are necessary.

Consider the fingers you have left. Some are partially torn off. It is okay. You do not need them all. Only enough to reach into the empty cavity where once your stomach was... reach in, and up towards the lungs, and push a little. Expand it.

You need the air. Nothing else matters.

You long to experience that first spike of pain. Be patient. Eventually it will come. You will feel weak and be unable to struggle against it. Before that, you must complete this process and dig yourself out of the earth again.

Arms, folded into a ribcage. That is all you are right now. Do not think about the rest. How damaged. How destroyed. You are small and well-sized for hiding, for recovery.

Even if you wonder about the footsteps above—they will not hear.

Did you bury yourself well?

Don't think about it.

Instead, find your heart. Find its fist-like shape, nestled and shrivelled among the wreckage. Its loose and deflated connections to the other parts of your body, some torn, some severed, like rubbery hose-lines. Recognise that it stopped beating long ago. Puncture with nails, or failing that, with teeth. You must let the blood drain. Puncture and drain, and wait.

That blood is dead blood. It moves your body in ways you do not want, and is senseless to your impulses.

When it is gone, you will no longer be able to move. This is okay.

Allow the organs to swell with strange gases. Listen to the crooning of the worms outside the walls. You are stuck, fixed. But something else is inside you.

Swelling up, bit by bit, and breaking its brittle confines; no longer are your lungs, your throat, or your intestines separate things. They move with frightening accord, uncoiling and writhing. Something is different. You cannot be seen like this. Flesh bared, and from the body loosening—it is not a sight for anyone's eyes.

That which is inside the coffin would no longer be recognisable as a "body". It is swollen up. It is swallowing everything.

Slowly, one by one, purge the broken bones. This fragmented ossicle. This cracked pelvis. Eject them and set them to the side. It is a drastic of necessity.

Here, too, with bones trapped in the crevices of soft flesh, wedged in between the walls of orifices that squeeze to force them out, you will experience your first pain. It is all-encompassing. It is too much. It spews colour into the darkness where your eyes once were. To get through it, focus on what is next.

Think of the salamander-like fetus of a human. The tail, the slitted nostrils. How it does not know what it is yet, or what it needs. How it alters, bit by bit, reabsorbing and reshaping, until it finds its true self.

Did you hear that?

Don't think about what it is.

With or without your will, from here on, the body will most certainly change. It will ache. It will burn. But if you want claws, then you will have claws.

You cannot be large. Not yet. You came in here starved and desiccated. Your transformation is fuelled by fumes. You will be small, but you can have a bite, and sharp teeth. You can have a sting, and poison. A little serpent could yet wind stealthily through the grass, between booted feet. A fly might still evade their searchlights.

Maybe even something larger. A shrew or rabbit could escape. Perhaps a small bird, with sound-muffling feathers. But it would be more difficult.

You want to be a human being, but it's out of the question. You would be undernourished, emaciated. Easy to spot. There would be no hope of survival.

Writhing listlessly in your cradle of wood, you know this. But you dream of it. You would rather live as a human than a fly.

There are alternatives. You would start small, but some creatures can grow large. You could have claws, strong claws. A jaw that rips. A gaze that petrifies. You would not have to be afraid. All these things could be yours.

You want to be human so, so much.

It is the last bone trapped inside you. It fixes the shape of your flesh.

Fine, then. Grow around it.

You will still have to be small. But a part of you will remain. That part will dream, as you survive, as your new heart learns to beat—will dream of your humanity.

Eventually, the pain it causes you will force you to either purge it or die, unless there is a miracle.

Inside your chrysalis of rot, now is the time for hope. But you will have to bring that hope far away, through deadly travails, to a place that does not exist, if you want it to bear fruit. It is not possible.

The world will hate to see you breathe.

But you will do it.

Are you ready?

[urfaveisgoingintheplinko-archive]

everyone is going in the plinko for drinking hand sanitizer/soap/other toxic undrinkable stuff

id: the plinko flag (a rectangle with seven stripes. Stripe one light gray, stripe two dark grey, stripe three orange-ish red, stripe four orange, stripe five orange-ish red, stripe six dark gray, stripe seven light gray. Stripes three, four, and five have an image of a fire partially covering the stipes) On the plinko flag messily written white text reads "Everyone. Yes this includes you and me and everyone"

so true bestie

[justinewt]

From Healer To Renegade - THE WITCHER Fanfiction Chapter One

[THE WITCHER FANFICTION-MASTERLIST]

Next Chapter

Summary: The war was closing in on all of them. Nilfgaard wanted the North, and no one was to oppose them. At least, supposed not to. Revynah was stuck in a battle she didn’t want to fight, having to face the horros yet to come and the ones that resurfaced from the past she thought she had buried deep, too deep for them to ever come out again. But she was so wrong, she didn’t even know how much.

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: lots of season 1 the witcher spoilers, description of dead bodies (not gore tho), war, partial nudity at some point, angst, betrayal, mention of tragic deaths and murder, flashbacks, title inspired by a line from the song “It’s Thursday Night” (critical role theme)

Queen Calanthe’s body was laying on the ground, covered in a mix of dust, snow and dirt. Fringilla and Revynah were standing next to the corpse, alongside three of the Nilfgaardian mages, looking at the one kneeling next to the corpse, a knife in hand. He rolled up the queen’s sleeve and cut a rectangle in her skin before handing the knife to Fringilla. He then rolled the piece of skin off her flesh, stood up and ate it. Revynah was looking at the mage with disgust. He chewed for a second, wincing and suddenly, he was seized with convulsions and his eyes rolled back. His hood fell off his bald head as white foam flowed from his mouth. Fringilla stabbed him across the stomach and let all of his guts fall as his body crashed to the ground. She crouched, raising her gloved hand above the viscera.

“Is it working ?” Cahir asked from his horse.

“Calanthe’s progeny is in the Brokilon forest.” Fringilla stood back up and walked around the dark knight and Nilfgaardian commander. Revynah stared at her, hands joined before following her to get on her horse as well.

“We can spare 10 thousand men.” Declared another guard while the two mages got on their mounts. “maybe 12.”

“Shut up.” Cahir cut him off, clearly annoyed. “Armies are not the way into Brokilon Forest. Damn it.”

All four of them then rode off. Revynah took a deep breath and sighed as she followed her peers in silence. Chains clattered behing them and she looked back at the prisoner shackled to one of their horses. He stumbled and fell next to the corpse of his late queen. She saw him grab her scarf in a hurry before he was forced up by a guard and was ordered to keep moving. Cintra had been turned into a fiery hell by the Nilfgaardian forces in this search for the lion cub of the fallen kingdom. 

Revynah was unsure of what to do. She was lost in her thoughts while she followed her comrades. Something had shattered her undying fidelity and trust in the emperor Emhyr. She was a mage to him but also an assassin whom he sent in the north every now and then in the past, to execute orders without ver being seen. After spending a long time traveling from one corner of the northern kingdoms to the other, she ended up hearing about a few songs recounting the adventures of a witcher nicknamed White Wolf. She didn’t know the whole of it so she had inquired, somehow curious about this whole thing. She eventually found out the identity of the infamous witcher. Geralt of Rivia. His name had struck her, shaking what she had come to believe in all those years. Her little brother was alive. It was him, she was sure of it. She felt it in her core. Her dear and beloved brother wasn’t dead after all, and she had to find him. If she had thought he was dead all this time, he surely did so too and she couldn’t bare the thought of her brother burying deep down in him the grief and mourning he felt for a living and breathing person. This was unthinkable. Her time under the Nilfgaard leader was counted. This had been the trigger she needed to free her true self from the chains she imprisoned herself with. She wasn’t expecting it to be easy. Life had made sure she would always and forever struggle.

The sun's rays pierced through the foliage of the trees as two young children ran around, laughing, playing tag, zigzagging through the woods. The comforting and soft warmth of that summer afternoon was ideal for playing outside and they had jumped at the chance after lunch, as soon as their mother gave them permission. She was in the forest too, looking for herbs, mushrooms and other plants she used to make potions, ointments and a bunch of other stuff. She was a fine druid their mother, trying to take care of the both of them on her own after their father died in battle. They were not too sad about that as they did not have much time to know him, well the youngest child, Geralt, did not as he was barely five years old now but his older sister, Revynah, who was four years older than him, did, even if the memories she had of their father were fading away from her mind anyway.

“Revynah, look at this mushroom !” Geralt exclamed, stopping in his tracks after seeing a huge white toadstool. He was kneeling in front of it, looking at his sister as she turned to him. He went to touch it but thin fingers wrapped around his wrist and made him stand up, stepping back from the mushroom. It was their mother. Geralt and Revynah didn’t say anything, in fear that they would get scolded at for not being carefull.

“Revynah. I told you to watch out for your little brother. I didn't teach him what you know.”

“Sorry, mother.” She bit her inner cheek and bowed her head forward, looking at her feet in embarrassment. She was so into their mouse and cat game that she forgot her brother hadn’t the same knowledge as her regarding the living life of the forest. She was young but her druid mother had passed on her whole herboristic knowledge to her so she could understand the works of the forest and use what she would find in it to help others. She showed her how to heal injured animals using herbs and plants. She was immersed since her birth in this druidic and magical culture, close to nature and animals, shining in selflessness. Her brother did not receive the same teachings, showing no affinity for the magic which their mother saw, on the contrary, in her daughter.

“All right, come on. It’s getting late.” She turned around and, holding her wicker basket full of herbs, plants and more, walked towards their little house. Red strands of hair threaded their way out of her braid and were tossed about in the breeze that made the leaves rustle lightly around them. Geralt and Revynah followed closely behind, holding hands. As they walked, Revynah smiled at Geralt and came to rub his brown curls playfully. He winced but giggled, smiling as well. They walked inside the house. Their mother put the basket on the table while Geralt ran into the barn. “Go play with him. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Revynah nodded and joined her brother. He had a bucket on his head, wearing it like a helmet and was holding a stick like it was a sword. She stood by his side, waving her hands in the air to mimic magical powers as they fought off an imaginary growling beast with their weapons of fortune.

“Back, you beast. I’ll kill you and take your treasure.” They played for a while until their mother appeared in the door frame. “Do not fear, Princess.”

“Dinner time.” She said before walking away. Revynah and Geralt obediently followed her back into the house where a seemingly delicious dinner was waiting for the three of them on the table.

“Someday, I’ll make you a necklace of dragon teeth.” Geralt declared, still wearing the bucket on his head and holding his stick. He and his sister sat down as the druidess put two plates in front of them. “The prettiest necklace ever.”

“No.” She gently cut him off while Revynah grabbed the bucket on her brother’s head and put it on the floor behind them. “We must live and let live.”

“What’s that mean ?” Geralt asked.

“It’s our code.” She explained. “We must cling to something. If we don’t, the world descends into chaos.”

Chaos. Revynah’s world didn’t take long to descend into chaos as her mother said. It did when she stopped living by this stupid code she had taught the two of them. Geralt's world did not seem to have gotten any better. This was why she had to find him. She needed to see him again to save herself. He was the only family she had left. She had to cling onto the hope that she would find him and reunite with him. Her mother was right all along. When one doesn’t have anything to cling to, they lose their control over chaos, and then lose the rest. And they both did lose everything.

“Revynah.” The mage blinked, her chest lifting up as she breathed in and out. She sighed, turning her head to Cahir. She looked into the knight’s blue eyes, resuming a confident face. She had let her mind wander into her deepest memories. She did not even know she remembered all this that well, as it was so long ago, like it happened in another life. Which felt true to her. She had lived a few lifetimes already, and had not found what she wanted in any of them.

“Where is Fringilla ? Did she already leave for Aretuza ?” She asked. Cahir shook his head as a no and she nodded, satisfied that the other Nilfgaardian mage had not left without her. Joining her hands at her waist, she then walked away from the commander and looked for Fringilla. She had not went back to Aretuza since she was 14 years old, which was over nine decades ago. The school hadn’t changed at all. It still looked like a golden prison to her, dull and with no reason to try to be so magestic, facing this grey ocean. The school took your freedom away from you and the students were supposed to be thankful, even though they could be turned into eels if they failed to ascend ? No, thank you. Revynah had made her choice, and it was not to owe anything to them and resent them to her core. Tissaia would surely have a stroke when she would see her former alumni after so long. She didn’t resent Tissaia as much as she did all the rest because it was not her that put the 9-year-old Revynah here. She was only a teacher and mentor to her students and Revynah must admit, Tissaia was not a bad teacher.

“Let me do the talking, Revynah.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Does the White Flame even know I came with you ?”

“He’s the one that ordered you came along.” She said, before walking away without any further explanation. Revynah wondered why the emperor would delibaretly ask for her to reveal that she worked for the Nilfgaardian empire as a mage when he had always taken advantage of the fact that no one knew Revynah was under his command. She did not really understand his decision but she wasn’t to discuss it so she stayed quiet, walking behind Fringilla, hands joined at her waist, heads up as they entered Aretuza and walked to the meeting room where every other mages were gathered in this very moment. They were probably not expecting the two of them just yet, but here they were anyway, lurking about the hallway. Guards opened the door; the ornated thick wood panels slammed loudly against the walls as Fringilla made her entrance with Revynah walking right behind her in her shadow.

“Our fight is with Cintra, and only Cintra.” Fringilla stated, cutting their conversation off. As she walked over to the strategy table, every eye was locked on her until they noticed a slightly taller figure approaching along Fringilla. Few were those in this room who knew who she was, but the ones that did had shock on their faces, especially Tissaia who Revynah saw, mouthing her name when she noticed it was her. Revynah stood still next to her peer, glancing at everyone else around them, studying their faces. Most of which she did not recognize.

“Revynah.” A voice echoed in her head but she did not flinch as it was Tissaia’s. Her former mentor was trying to talk to her, obviously, but she wasn’t here to fix things up. She was here under the command of the Nilfgaardian emperor Emhyr, not to chitchat with her professor.

“In Nilfgaard, we know what it’s like to have corrupt leaders. But under our new leader emperor Emhyr, we’ve changed. We’ve strengthened trade. We’ve funded research. We have torn down walls, whilst Queen Calanthe has done nothing but put them up.”

“I am not here to defend Cintra.” Tissaia declared outloud. Revynah shifted her focus on the latter after ignoring her. “But I will defend our way of life. The Brotherhood, the Academies, the order that we have built up over centuries. You’ve rejected it all, Fringilla. And you did too, Revynah.” Her tone had softened up when she addressed the red-head beside Fringilla. Everyone looked at her for a second. She stared at her with the straighest of faces while Fringilla replied.

“That’s not true. We’ve modified it. Most of us came from Aretuza and Ban Ard. We’ve simply charted a different path, guided by the White Flame. That makes us cousins, not ennemies.”

“You force mages into servitude !” Indignantly exclamed a mage with curly hair and a clear voice, standing on Tissaia's right. The man was absolutely right and Revynah had a bitter memory of her early days under Nilfgaard, mages emprisoned in caged like rats. Emhyr did look like their savior back then.

“When in training, yes. Like soldiers.” Retorted Fringilla. “We believe in shared sacrifice.”

“You also believe in forbidden magic. Demonology, necromancy, fire magic !”

“Forbidden magic is one of the ghost stories taught to us here. There is no such thing as dark or light magic. Nothing in this world is as simple as that.” Revynah looked at her from the corner of her eye, listening to her words, having to pretend that she firmly stood by her side. She let her mind wandered a little and heard the voice of Tissaia in her head again.

“Revynah. Let us talk, please.” Stregobor’s voice rising up distracted Revynah and she turned her head to the old man, putting Tissaia’s request on stand-by.

“Ah, enough of this tiring debate. Cintra’s a lost cause. Let them reap what they sow.”

“I say we vote.” Proposed another elder mage.

“Yes, vote. Vote !” Agreed Stregobor.

“Vote ? First, you install your niece at Nilfgaard, and now you wanna ram through a vote.”

“To be fair, Yennefer of Vengerberg is the one I have to thank for my posting.” Revynah stared at this Yennefer of Vengerberg. She did not really know the latter. She had surely been at Aretuza at the same time as Fringilla’s. Revynah’s time at the school had been probably a few decades before them. A brunette with violet eyes, dressed in a fashionable black and white dress. Yeah, she would have hated it in Nilfgaard. There, mages couldn’t wear clothes that showed too much skin or were too complex. Such things were seen as weaknesses and heavily frowned upon to the point where it was forbidden to dress any other way than with humble and plain clothing. Fringilla and Revynah, as the two main Nilfgaardian sorceresses could wear nice silver dresses and capes with opening for their arms, showing their long and tight sleeves but that was about it. Revynah was never too fond of fancy dresses but the freedom of dressing as she saw fit annoyed her. “If she had taken it, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Neither would Nilfgaard.”

“If only Yennefer had gone to Nilfgaard. With her at the helm, they’d still be a shitty backwater.” Fringilla’s uncle declared with a mocking tone. Some mages on Stregobor’s side laughed at his remark but none did on Tissaia and Yennefer’s side. Neither did Revynah. She was with Nilfgaard in appearance but in reality, she wasn’t on anyone’s side. She did not even want to be here and get involved in this argument. She didn’t care what would happen to Cintra in the end. The only preocupation she had as of now was to find her brother. That was the only thing she wanted.

“You’re right.” Yennefer spoke up. “Instead, I went to a prized kingdom and did fuck all for decades. Just as you taught us. Helped murderers and rapists keep their crown. Maybe it is time for something different.”

“I like your protégé.” Revynah mentally told Tissaia with a subtle smirk on her face. Yennefer did not seem to let others walk all over her and crush her into dust. Revynah would surely remember her, even if she wasn’t to see her ever again. But that she wasn’t so sure. She felt that they would probably encounter once more in the future.

“Pipe down. You– you don’t get a vote.” Stregobor sounded weak, just like the coward he definitely was.

“If I did, I’d vote to burn it all down.”

“There !” He firmly pointed his index finger at Yennefer as if she had just said something outrageous and overly incriminating, exclaming while mages on his side clamored at her response. “There you have– There you have it !”

“It’s true. Cintra has chosen to turn its back on us.” Tissaia rose her voice to calm the crowd and make them listen. “They’re proud, and smart, and difficult, yes. But I’d wager above all else… they’re scared. We have called them a lost cause for years. But we stopped trying too. And it is time now… that we risk not only our lives, but our pride, and try again.”

A silence had fallen upon the large room, everyone staring at each other, a few people murmuring in incertitude, until Stregobor’s voice was heard, breaking this solemn silence.

“With your permission, all those in favor of letting Cintra continue their proud tradition of fending for themselves ?” Everyone on his side obviously rose their hands but also some behind Tissaia, Fringilla and Revynah. They had won the vote already. “Well… there you have it.”

Yennefer walked away and slammed the doors open, bursting in the corridor, followed by Tissaia. Revynah watched them leave from the corner of her eyes and stayed there, beside Fringilla even though she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. After a moment, the Nilfgaardian that had attended the reunion, including Fringilla and Revynah, left the room. Tissaia and Yennefer were seemingly just finished talking and Tissaia went after her old student with fire-like hair and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. The brunette with the amethyst eyes remained nearby but went a little further to give the two sorceresses some privacy. Revynah did not care about her being here at the moment and simply turned to Tissaia, staring at her former mentor.

“Revynah. Give me just a second.”

“I can’t. I must leave with the others.” Revynah spat out, sighing. She evidently didn’t really want to join the Nilfgaardians but she had to for now.

“You don’t belong with them.”

“So where do I belong ? With you ? Definitely not, Tissaia. I made my choice when I left and I plan on walking out of this place once again, and never set foot in here ever again.”

“I understand your resentment and anger toward Aretuza. I assure you.” She wrapped her fingers around her hand despite how cold and distant Revynah was toward her. “I didn’t seek you out, your mother brought you here. During your years as my student, I could feel your rage. It fed your chaos ever since and made you lose control sometimes. I know.”

“What do you think you know, huh ?” Revynah frowned, asking vehemently.

“I know what you went through after you fled the school. I kept the brotherood from going after you, but–”

“Ha,” She laughed bitterly, releasing her hand from hers. “they didn’t have me killed, but I lost everything anyway. So you and your peers must be really happy that life took care of it all for you.”

“I know, Revynah. I really do.”

“Stop it !” Revynah rose the tone of her voice, growling like a fox, exploding in anger before looking around and calming down so as not to draw too much attention to her an Tissaia. “Stop with your sympathy. Stop acting like you know it all. You know nothing, Tissaia.”

“I know about the time you used fire magic.” Revynah stared at her in incomprehension, frowning.

“What ?”

“It wasn’t a beast that slayed them.” With this very comment, Revynah started putting the pieces all together and knew instantly where this was going.

“No.” She stepped back, feeling tears slowly filling up her eyes, blurring her vision, hiding her dull emerald eyes behind a thick fog of water. She kept herself from blinking so her face wouldn’t get completely soaked. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”

“The brotherhood knew of your whereabouts. I convinced them not to go after you, sot they simply kept an eye on you, but when they knew you had a child… I couldn’t do anything to stop them. The others were collateral damage because they tried to oppose them.” Revynah felt her legs and knees get weak but she leaned on a piece of furniture so as to keep control as she stared at the wall, bringing her hand to her chest, squeezing the smooth and soft fabric of her cape, trying so hard to hold back her tears, muffling her silent cries by covering her mouth with her hand. Lucky Tissaia got close to her, stroking her shoulder. “I am sorry, child. I really am.”

Revynah stopped crying, resuming a straight face. Luckily for her own pride, the two women were in a corner of the corridor, a little further from the meeting room and no one saw her losing composure. She wiped away her tears and looked at Tissaia as she walked away from her, going back to her place among the Nilfgaardian ranks. Disappointment could be seen in the eyes of the older witch. Maybe did Tissaia believe she was going to fight their ennemy together, that she had succeeded into convincing Revynah to come back to them, but she had not. Revynah had little interest in their fight and would rather leave when she could than fight for any of them and it would be easier to do so if she wasn’t with them. She wouldn’t feel bad for leaving after having just reunited, but that she wasn’t going to tell Tissaia about. She would not stay long on the battlefield anyway. Once she would get an opening, she would leave right on the spot. Nilfgaard would surely go after her but she already knew that fleeing meant becoming a deserter and being hunted down by a whole empire for supposedly cowardice and treason. She was willing to take the risk if she had to.

Revynah slipped out of the water, taking a deep breath, opening her eyes. The heat of the bath water had cooled down and was at the perfect temperature. She let her head fell on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the ceiling while she brought her knees up, piercing through the water. It was as clear as a crystal and her body and curves were not hidden under a layer of foam bubbles and was visible though a little distorted by the movement of the water. She let her mind wander, thinking back to her unexpected discussion with Tissaia when she confessed that it was not at all a beast that killed her baby, lover and his parents, but mages that came to kill her child because he was deemed a too dangerous potential threat because of who she was. She closed her eyes. She could hear her heart-wrenching cries so distincly, seeing herself there as if it had happened just yesterday. So much blood it made her sick. She was kneeling on the ground, next to her son’s pram, holding his tiny, cold body in her shaking arms. She remembered perfectly what happened next, as Tissaia stated so well. She used fire magic, letting her chaos take over. At this moment, Revynah had died and let place to the assassin she was yet to become. She screamed so loudly she almost thought she had lost her voice afterward but it didn’t matter. Her grief, anger and despair were so strong that she burned down the house and stables, reducing what she had built to a heap of ash. She opened her eyes, breathing out, lips quivering, sitting up in the bathtub. The water had turned cold enough to draw her out of it now, so she got up, passed one leg outside of the tub and the other. She walked over a table to wrap herself in a long towel, holding it with one arm. At the same moment, someone knocked on the door.

“You can come in, Fringilla.” She assumed it was her peer as she sat down on the bench of a dressing table to dry her hair and braid them. She was so focused in what she was doing, she didn't look around and kept talking, focused on getting ready. “I know you’re probably thinking taking a bath before a battle is unnecessary but, I really needed a moment to relax. I, uh... anyway.”

“It’s not Fringilla.” She turned around and saw Cahir standing near the door in his Nilfgaardian armor, hands joined in his back.

“Cahir.” She exclaimed, staring at the latter as she stood up and walked up to him, still wrapped up in just a towel. He was obviously trying to keep his composure, forcing his eyes not to slide down her body. “Well, what is it ?”

“Fringilla reported to me about your visit at Aretuza. She said you left a few minutes after her and she had to make everyone wait for you. What was taking you so much time ?”

“So,” She giggled. “You couldn’t wait for me to get dressed, could you ?” She motioned for him to turn his back to her so she could finish getting ready, even though it wouldn’t be the first time he would see her naked but anyway, he obliged and turned around. It was cool in the room. The cold licked her bare skin and gave rise to chills on every inch of her being.

“We walk to Sodden, right now. So tell me what happened at Aretuza?” She sighed as she put her dress on.

“Tissaia de Vries just said hi, that’s all. I’m an old student of hers, you know. Nothing strange about it.” He turned back to her and she dramatically cried out, even though she didn’t really care if he looked at her. “I didn’t say I was done !”

“Tell me the truth.” He ignored her indignation and she groaned, rolling her eyes. She stayed silent for a second, grabbing her silver cape after putting her shoes on.

“You know I’m over a century old ?” He nodded. “Well, I had a family, and a son, once.”

“I thought all sorceresses were infertile.” Despite keeping a straight face, he showed genuine curiosity and he wasn’t wrong. All sorceresses were.

“I fled Aretuza before I ascended, which is when they sterilize you. So I just naturally lost my fertility over time, I guess.” She walked around him, getting closer to the door. She grabbed the door handle and looked at Cahir. “She just wanted to tell me something about how my son died… and why.”

The Nilfgaardian troops had established camps on a plain near the forest, planning the attack on Sodden, discussing the strategy to adopt in this crucial battle. Fringilla and Revynah walked toward a tent were Cahir and the field marshall were talking over a map, arguing. The dark knight was leaning over the table, with a fierce serioussness on his face, accentuated by the sharpness of his facial features.

“Fringilla, Revynah, one of you tell him he cannot possiby take Temeria alone.”

“Tell him he cannot possibly understand the stakes at play.” Cahir retorted, annoyed.

“The Brotherhood…”

“They’re here.”  Revynah said, finishing Fringilla's sentence. “Our scouts just spotted them, fortifying the keep.” Cahir straightened up and stared at the two mages.

“We must move.” Fringilla added.

“How many ?” He inquired.

“We don’t know.”

“We must wait.” The marshall urged, pressing each word. “It is one thing to destroy a few peasant insurgents, but we cannot combat unknown magic.”

“We have magic too.” Fringilla cut him off. She rested her hands on the edge of the table, staring at him. “Without rules or restrictions. I will personally deplete them until they are empty and powerless. Cahir, if the report from the trading post is true, Cirilla may already be across the Yaruga. This…” She walked closer to the commander. “is our chance… to honor the White Flame.”

“Sir, forget Princess Cirilla. With the General, we can take the Continent.”

“Enough. We will not lose her.” He then walked away, looking ahead of him, followed by Fringilla and Revynah. “Test the Brotherhood defences.”

Soldiers, including Cahir, and all the mages went on the highest hill, from which they could see all of the castle of Sodden. Fringilla was at the front, with sorcerers on her right and left and Revynah, standing a little further behind her. Sorcerers who, on Fringilla’s command, gathered their energy, pulling it out of their every cells, throwing a devastating fiery ball on their ennemies, but reducing themselves to dust rustling into thin air.

“Again.” She ordered to a another mage. The woman looked down at the empty robe on the grass next to her. She was anxious, but she couldn’t disobey. Revynah observed her do just as her peer, lifting the ball in the catapult and her cape falling to the ground. They all watched as the attack was once again deflected to the side. Fringilla closed her eyes, raising her hands, palms to the night sky and generated a small black box in her right hand, and a white rock in the other. She handed the box to a mage next to her. “Draw the mages out.”

“We will not lose to them.” The mage declared before walking away. 

They waited for the sun to rise, letting the survivors in Sodden believed it was over but slowly, a thick white mist spread throughout the forest as the mage Fringilla had sent out was progressing in the forest, getting closer and closer to the castle. Revynah was watching as the army marched through the woods. She grew anxious about the outcome of all this, thinking that maybe she wouldn’t even manage to make it out alive but she couldn’t die. She couldn’t let that happen, for her brother. She had to wait for the perfect moment to open an untraceable portal and flee the battlefield. Anywhere she would go would be safer for her than here. Walking amongst the soldiers, Fringilla and Cahir went to the first line, next to the field marshall while Revynah stayed where she was. They didn’t look back at her. It was maybe the occasion she had been dreaming of.

“So much for depleting them.” The marshall spat. “What now ?”

“Move to the other front.” Cahir instructed, staring at the smoky woods.

“Right turn ! March !” Some of the soldiers turned around and walked away in a concert of synchronized steps, making the earth tremble under their feet. Fringilla then left as well and Cahir, still staring ahead, motioned at other soldiers to go. In a matter of seconds, they were practically only Cahir and Revynah left on the hill, with a few other insignificant soldiers. The red-haired mage looked around, slowly taking a few steps back as she assessed whether or not it was the right time and then walked straight to the woods as if she was in a hurry.

“Revynah !” For some reason, Cahir called out to her. He had obviously seen her leave but she didn’t see him looking at her. He was so focused on what was going on below, she thought it was the perfect moment to slip away. She didn’t look behind though, running as fast as she could to get away and being able to open a portal without someone instantly jumping at her throat. She took her cape off, letting it fall carelessly. Wherever she would land, it would give away that she was previously with Nilfgaard. She grabbed the fabric of her dress and changed its color with her power. She would look for new clothes once she would finally be away from here. The plain and corseted grey dress turned to a dark green after a second. 

She glanced around her to see if anyone was there and breathed out, when suddenly Cahir came in her field of vision. He was far away, staring at her but she ignored him. It was time to go. She stretched out both of her arms and started chanting a bunch of words in an ancient language, in a determined tone. A blueish light emerged form the ground and cirled up and around, opening a portal. She glanced at Cahir as he approached and quickly ran into it, closing her eyes and grunting softly as she fell on her knees in the middle of a dirt road. She was so relieved that her time under Nilfgaard was over, at last. She was aware that her temporary freedom came at some great cost and that she would be hunted down by Nilfgaard but if she found her brother, it would be worth it in the end. She sat down and looked at the cloudless bright sky above her.

She had no idead where she was at the moment but all she could thing of was that the quest to find her brother could finally begin…

[To be continued…]  

Next Chapter

Published (01/11/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64  @littlebirdgot​

[wreckofawriter]

The Girl Next Door And The Five Times She Stopped Time

Pairing: James Potter x muggle!reader

Word Count: 3,433

Warnings: Swearing?, None fluffy

Summary: James slowly begins to fall in love with the girl next door

A/n: Sorry I havent posted in a while, this isn't really edited so ignore my mistakes, anyway, hope you guys like it!

James Potter can remember when he first met her. Her y/h/c hair was cut into a bob that ended just above her shoulders. Her deep y/e/c eyes were shining in ways that would make stars envious. She was wearing a soft blue dress that fell just beneath her knees, feet bare. 

She leapt out of the back seat of an old Subaru and stood in the dewy morning grass outside of your house. That was the first time he felt time stop 

Your eyes seemed to trace over every inch of your new home in slow motion everything else around you fading into white. As James drunk in your appearance. 

Time resumed when you set into a sprint and darted up the porch, steps two at a time running through the front door and out of the curious boys view. 

James was 10 years old at the time, you 9 but he could still feel his heart race watching you from his own yard. At the time he was sure that it was because of cooties. You were making him get sweaty and his stomach feel funny simply because you had infected him with your contagious disease. 

So when his parents had a welcoming dinner for their new neighbors, he completely avoided you, only going near you when absolutely necessary. 

You hadn't seemed to notice or if you did you didn't let it bother you in the slightest, you simply shrugged it off and opened some muggle book called 'The Hobbit'. 

It wasn't until your family was totally set up when James realized something. He could see directly into your new room. 

You had repainted the walls a joyful blue and covered them with colorful posters from muggle cartoons and books. You had purple curtains but they were knotted on either side of the two windows that now faced the young boy.

So he couldn't help it as he watched your small frame move around the room organizing nick-nacks or sit on your bed and read. 

Quickly he began to feel sick again and promptly closed his curtains decided that you could catch cooties by simply watching a girl too. 

By the time he was 11 he no longer agnollaged cooties as a factual illness so when he met Lily Evan's and he felt his heart speed up and his palms get sweaty he realised that he simply liked her. 

But still something sat in the back of the boys mind when he glanced out the window of his dormitory hoping that there would be two rectangles of warm yellow light leering back at him to reveal a little girl perched on her bed a book that was much to thick for her age sitting open in her hand as she smiled softly at the pages. 

Everytime James came home the room he gazed into changed, the desk would be in a different spot, or maybe the bed. There would almost always be a new poster on the walls the cartoons slowly dispersing and getting replaced with posters of bands or pictures of friends and family. But the one thing that always seemed to change the most every year was the girl who sat on the bed and read her books. But no matter how much she changed he would always feel that sickening feeling in his gut when he looked at her and he could feel his palms grow sweaty as he thought of you. 

You had just gotten back from a partially damaging party. Your best friend had decided to  lock lips with the boy you had been crushing on since the sixth grade. You prided yourself on your ability to keep emotions at bay so when you finally reached the safety and security of your bedroom you let your tears flow freely. Unaware if the pair of dark eyes watching you from next door. 

When James saw tears spring from your eyes he felt sadness and fury take him. The simple idea of you being upset made him so himself. And there you were sitting on your bed tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. And once again time stopped seeming to slow down before coming to a halt as he watched your tears leave slow shimmering tracks down your y/s/c checks.

James had wanted nothing more than to go to you, comfort you. But there were too many things that kept him from doing so. The fact that you hadn't spoken in four years being the main one. Also the fact that he had been borderline stalking you for the past few years would be revealed. So he couldn't go to you which made him utterly disappointed. 

That is when James realize that something was up. He didn't just see you as the muggle girl who lived next door but he was confused. The image of Lily seemed to flash in his head but he still stared across at you wishing he could help. Because he felt something different with you. But what was it?

A year later James had finally figured it out. 

You had been in a partially happy mood. Your parents were out of town for the night and your older brother was at his girlfriend's which meant you had the house all to yourself. So you did the one reasonable thing to do when your home alone. You stole your brothers speakers and blasted music so loud you could hear your eardrums thumping dully in your head. 

Fifth year had been one of the more difficult for James, tests had gotten much more difficult, his best friend had gone through hell and back with his parents and his whole love life seemed to flip completely upside down. 

Lily had grown more and more unimportant as the year went on. Like over the summer he had simply fallen out of love with her, which was half true but the whole truth was that he had fallen in love with you. 

He couldn't keep you from his mind. He missed you even though he barely knew you, he found himself glance out his window every day in a slim hope that you had somehow temported to the Hogwarts grounds and was now reading some 1,000 page horror book in the grass below. 

Yet somehow he had managed to convince himself that he was still in love with Lily. He contorted his mind building walls between memories, blocking certain ones off. All of it was completely exhausting.

So when he and Sirius ascended to his bedroom after getting home he wanted to do nothing but plop onto his bed and pass out and that was what he was doing until he heard Sirius emit a low whistle. 

"What?" James groaned pulling himself from his bed to see his friend smirking deviously out his window. 

"You never told me you lived next to that." Sirius gawked biting his lip. 

James turned and felt his soul leave his body. Over the year you had, well matured. 

You had gone from looking like a 13 year old to looking like a 16 year old. 

You had grown at least 2 inches, your hair was now y/h/l and you had well, gotten much curvier.

In a sense puberty had hit you like a 16 wheeler and now you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of lacy magenta underwear. 

James mouth hit the floor as you pranced around your room using a hairbrush as a microphone. He could hear the dull thump of the bass from Rocketman coursing through your speakers. And once again time slowed to a stop as he watched as you flipped your y/h/c hair over your head in slow motion, leaping from your bed to in front of the mirror. Everything around you fade before suddenly snapping back to reality when Sirius let out a laugh. 

You were singing the words, James only wished he could hear you. You pointed at the mirror and closed your eyes swing your hips as your lips split into a brilliantly wide grin

Sirius turned to James The poor boy's mouth hung agape his eyes the size of a snitch. 

"Looks like you didn't know either." He chuckled. 

"S-she looks s-so dif-different." The dark haired boy stuttered, his infatuation causing him to stumble over words. 

"Clearly, she bloody hot." Sirius smirked watching you jump to your bed raising your hands above your head enjoying the view of the small lacy undergarment the action exposed.

"She's incredible." James breathed out dreamily snapping the other boys attention back to him. 

"Woah, woah, woah. She's not the reason you suddenly lost interest in Lily is she?" 

James flushed, his dark eyes flicking quickly to his friend before retreating back to your moving form. "No." He lied. 

"Oh Merlin." Sirus groaned smacking his forehead, "Just when I thought you were going to stop acting like a love sick puppy here you are again in love with another girl you barely know." 

"I'm not in love with her." James scoffed 

"Sure. Sure." Sirius mumbled picking at his fingernails. "Quick question, what's her favourite color?" 

"Y/f/c." James answered without hesitation.

"What about her favorite book?" 

"Probably y/f/b." He paused for a second his eyes still trained on you, now dancing along to Bennie and the Jets. "Or y/sf/b." 

"And her favourite band?" Sirius asked in an almost disappointed tone. 

"Definitely Queen, although Led Zeppelin is probably a close second. Why are you asking me this?" James asked prying his eyes from you to land on his extremely exhausted looking friend.

Sirius just shot him a knowing glance both his eyebrows raised. Realization quickly dawned over James face. 

"Oh no." He groaned, letting his head fall to his mattress. "I am in love with her." 

"Bingo." Sirus spoke a pitying smile grazing his lips. 

James just moaned sourly into his blanket. "I didn't even know I knew that shit." 

"Let's go to bed man." Sirius sighed closing James curtains blocking you out. 

As much as James wished to wipe you from his mind he couldn't help but feel disappointed as you disappeared from view. 

For the rest of the summer Sirius made it his mission to reconnect you and James, as if you were ever really connected. Either way he made sure to make James as obvious as possible to you. 

He introduced himself to you and made friends quickly. He was sure to have you come over as often as possible. 

The first time this happened James damn near shit himself when you walked through the door wearing a bikini as he was getting ready for the trip he and Sirius had planned.

"Hey James" you smiled meekly, waving a bit. 

"H-hey." He smiled back before shooting Sirius a glare. 

"Y/n is going to come swimming with us remember I told you about it last night." Sirius smirked winking slyly. 

"O-oh yeah of course."

Many other awkward interactions were induced by Sirius, including both of you getting locked "accidentally" into a closet together, you falling asleep on James shoulder, James and you falling on top of eachother and Sirius' personal favorite of yelling at the top of his lungs while James was changing and your window was open, causing you to look over and see James with nothing but boxers on red faced and angry as Sirius scrambled out of the room. (You would be lying if you didn't enjoy that one little bit.)

But just as Sirius was sure he was going to be the next matchmaker the two older boys had to leave, much to both of their dismay. 

The whole year James could do nothing to keep you from his mind. The way you smiled stuck in his brain like glue, your laugh cemented to his skull. You were all he could think of so when he came back for summer after his sixth year he had never been more ecstatic. 

James dashed up his stairs hoping that he might catch just a glimpse of you through his window. 

And he did. He saw you laying on your bed, a laugh escaping a wide smile that was carved into your face. Your eyes were shining brightly, your y/h/c hair splayed across you pillow.

This broke James. It made him fall to pieces, heart filling with grief. Because the laugh wasn't because of him, the smile wasn't for him and the shine in your eyes wasn't directed at him. 

He watched in agony as the red headed boy who leaned over you connected his lips to yours gracefully. The moment he wished more than anything could  seemed to slow as if the universe was mocking him, showing him a nightmare that seemed to never end. Time had once again stopped as you wrapped your delicate hands around the boys neck and pulled him closer to you. He watched in pain as the girl he loved kissed another man. 

Sirius had come up the stairs now and instantly saw the scene taking place behind the opposite window. He cursed under his breath quickly closing the curtains and turning to face his heart broken best friend. 

James looked defeated, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes downcast and filled with sorrow. He blinked a few times before turning around and walking straight out of the room.

"Shit." Sirius mumbled knowing this wasn't going to end well, "James!" He called running down the stairs to find him reaching for the door handle. "What are you doing?" The long haired boy questioned. 

"I have to stop her." James said turning to his best friend, a new look of determination etched onto his strong features.

"For doing what?" Sirius pointed out angrily.

"From kissing some freckled bastard that's what!" James shouted anger filling his dark eyes. 

"You can't!" Sirius shot back harshly.

"Why in bloody hell not?!" James yelled taking two steps towards his friend but Sirius stood his ground.

"BECAUSE SHES NOT YOURS!" Sirius bellowed angry at his friend for being so blinded by love. 

James eyes flickered with doubt before his entire face collapsed with it. Determination flipping to guilt then to misery as he realized what was really happening. 

"I'm sorry man, you can't stop her from doing anything." Sirius sighed disappointment readable in his own voice. 

Summer was suddenly a bleak occasion for James. Now that y/n had a boyfriend he had to become more and more accustomed to the presence of the "freaked bastard" who he soon found out was Austin Bostian. Austin was a muggle that went to the same school as y/n. Not that James cared. All he cared about was the fact that Austin got to kiss y/n and hold her and touch her.

James and y/n drifted away from each other slowly and painful over the vacation and to James it felt like his heart was slowly being torn in two. But seeing Austin with her made him dizzy and upset, he just couldn't bear being around her. 

So when school finally rolled back around he felt a sense of relief filled him. Of course the image of you still burned bright in his memory he just did his best to bury it deep within the pictures of you and Austin locking lips or holding hands. It almost made it easier.

The school year was a strange one for James. He forced himself onto Lily more than ever, when truth was he didn't even want to go anywhere with her. Sirius of course knew he was really simply distracting himself, but he couldn't help but feel bad for Lily who actually seemed more into it than before. 

Sirius' suspicions were confirmed when Lily finally answered yes to James catching everyone by surprise, especially the quidditch star. 

James had then fled the scene only to return a few moments later and attempt to explain himself. Which of course failed miserably and a shit storm hit him in a wave. Most of the Gryffindor girls wouldn't even look at him anymore, claiming he was a monster who shouldn't lead on someone like that. Which of course he did. James had felt like shit and just wanted to go home the entire time. But the idea of seeing you and Austin again crushed the poor boy. So he played quidditch and a lot of it. 

When he graduated it was bitter sweet. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore but he knew that he wanted to see you at least one last time. He needed to confess. 

Now as he stood in front of your door he felt the familiar feeling of nervousness and embarrassment flush over him. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut briefly before knocking twice on the door. 

He heard the patter of feet followed by a muffled "I'm coming" before the door swung open to reveal you. Your hair was stuck up into a terribly messy bun, strands of hair hanging in front of your face. You had on a pair of athletic shorts and a Atari crop top that you had clearly cut yourself. 

"Hey James." You smiled up at him either not noticing or caring that his cheeks were flaming red. 

"Uh hey y/n." He answered suddenly realizing he had zero plan whatsoever. "Can I talk to you for a second?" 

"Of course." You answered inviting him inside. You ead him upstairs to your room. Once inside Jmaes realized that after all these years if staring into your room he had never been inside it. It was decently clean a few items of clothing scattered across the ground here and there. 

"Sorry for the mess." You muttered plopping onto your bed. "So what's up?" 

James felt his throat close up. His hands suddenly felt extensively sweaty and he thought he might throw up.

"Well umm.." he took in a deep breath closing his eyes before snapping them open to meet your curious y/e/c ones. "I'm in love with you." 

The room fell deathly silent, the faint hum of cicadas drumming outside. 

Your eyes went wide mouth falling slightly open. "Y-you love me?" Your voice uncharacteristically high. 

"Yeah." James mumbled quietly, "And I know that your with Austin and everything but I just, I can't leave without telling you." 

You let out a small giggle, which in other circumstances would have made his heart soar but now he felt it sink into the floor. You were laughing at him. 

"I'm not with Austin dumbass." You scoffed rolling your eyes. 

That was much better than what James was expecting, "R-really?" He asked tripping over this words. 

"Yeah. I broke up with him like a week after you left for school." You rolled your eyes playfully. 

"Oh." James voice hopefully, "That's good." His eyes widened, "Not like good that you had to break up with him, just you know good that I didn't-" 

You cut off his ramblings by grabbing his shirt and pulling him onto you. You smashed your lips onto his tasting mint. James quickly melted into the kiss placing his arms on either side of you to keep from toppling onto you as you grabbed his neck and forced your tongue into his mouth.

And for the fifth time in his life he felt time stop. Your soft yet rough touch making everything but you disappear. He could only feel you pressed hot against his skin, lips moving slowly against his own. 

The spell you put him under broke when you pulled away gasping for air. "You're an idiot you know." You smiled,  hands playing with his dark locks.

James shot you a confused look. 

"I've been in love with you since you ignored me at the welcoming dinner your family threw." You explained. Causing the boys eyes to widen. 

"Really?" He asked in disbelief. 

You scoffed. "You are terribly blind. And you suck at flirting, I thought you hated me." 

"What?" James asked confused.

"Well, I mean you ignored me and always got all weird around me. I thought you hated me." 

"Oh." James cringed, suddenly realizing how his strange actions must have looked from your prospective.

You giggled, a heavenly sound before pulling the boy back down to meet your lips.

From across the street Sirius smiled widely watching his best friend. 

"That girl seriously needs to close her curtains." He muttered still grinning as he turned away from the new couple.

@accio-rogers

Masterlist

[boogiewrites]

No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

[purpleiri]

Xu Mo: Ordinary Date Translation

许墨 【平淡之约】

During the time Xu Mo was immersed in a new research project, our meetings have become scarce. I was incessantly torn between not wanting to disturb him at work and longing to see him. Finally, I came up with a solution to the problem...

Please do not re-post my translations.

I’m not a professional translator. I do not claim that my translations are 100% accurate.

I hope that you’ll enjoy watching/reading the date! Text-only version under the cut.

When I reached the entrance of the research centre, Aming and the others were on their way out. They must have just pulled an all-nighter to finish their experiment, as the youths yawned loudly. Even so, they were chatting happily and exchanging banters back and forth.

Student A: “Let’s have soup dumplings at Sheng Ji, it’s near.”

Student B: “Since today’s a day off, we have a lot of time. Let’s go to Li Ji Restaurant, it’s only two stations away by subway anyway.”

Student C: “Is Professor Xu not coming with us again?”

Aming: “The Professor said that he’ll be busy with some other things.”

Student B: “Do any of you feel that although Professor Xu looks approachable, he also seems strangely detached? He never talks about himself, and he’s not close with any of the other teachers.”

Student A: “It feels like he’s very polite, but keeps everybody at arm’s length, isn’t it?”

Student C: “I feel it a little. There were a few times when I saw him standing alone by the window and wanted to go up to him and say hello, but at the same time I felt that he would feel bothered for sure.”

Student B: “Sometimes, it does feel as if we just can’t figure out what kind of person Professor Xu really is…”

I stopped in my tracks and hesitated for a while, but still went ahead to meet up with them.

MC: “Aming!”

Aming: “MC, are you looking for the Professor? He’s just finished being busy with work so he should be resting now.”

MC: “Yes, I brought all of you something to eat!”

I handed a paper bag filled with food over to Aming. He smiled as he accepted it and scratched his head a little awkwardly.

Aming: “The things we said just now, we didn’t mean anything by it…”

MC: “Don’t worry, I won’t tattle on you to your Professor Xu.”

I smiled, but it was clear in my mind—there was a time when even I have deeply felt Xu Mo’s indifference and elusiveness, so I did not blame others for thinking so. For the past month, for instance, ever since he has started working on some secret experiment, I have been seeing him less and our usual interactions with each other have decreased. I have tried asking him about it indirectly twice, but he always answered vaguely and digressed from the topic. I could not help but worry a little.

Student B: “May I ask, are you Professor Xu’s girlfriend? We didn’t mean to talk about the Professor, we just don’t understand him very well so we couldn’t help but discuss a little.”

He paused for a while and let out an embarrassed smile.

Student B: “It’s rare to see such an impressive and young professor, so it makes one really curious.”

Student A: “He’s not just impressive, he could already very well be included in a textbook!”

They continued talking, and the conversation turned into a discussion of Xu Mo’s most recent academic research. I could see on their faces their hopes for the future, as well as an overwhelming sense of accomplishment from being able to work on the project with Xu Mo.

MC: “Sometimes, he can get too immersed in his own world and may seem unsociable.”

“But don’t worry about him being difficult to get along with.”

I looked at them and couldn’t stop the corner of my lips from turning up into a smile.

MC: “He’s a really gentle person.”

“The most gentle person I have ever met.”

--

It was still early, and the research centre was much quieter than usual. I walked along the long corridor and arrived at the entrance of the lounge. The door was open; I quietly took two steps forward and saw Xu Mo deep in thought.

The window blinds were shut tightly. Entering through the gaps and infiltrating the room was a thin layer of sunlight, reflected on his calm and impassive eyes. It seemed that even the continuous drizzle of the wallpaper surrounding him lingered with a hint of coolness. The slightly bitter aroma of coffee permeated the air, and hot steam from the mug drifted little by little to the corner of Xu Mo’s thin lips.

Although he always wore a mild expression on his face, I felt that the darkness of the room was filled with an inexplicable silent melancholy. It was as if he had carved out this cold little space that was isolated from the world—isolated from the warm morning light outside the window, and isolated from himself.

I stared at his thin silhouette and could only feel how particularly lonely he was at this moment.

MC: “Xu Mo.”

I could not stop myself anymore and took a step forward, softly whispering his name. As if he had just suddenly woken up from some deep contemplation, he looked at me with a hint of surprise in his eyes. Almost at the very moment our eyes met, I could clearly see a smile light up in his nonchalant eyes.

Xu Mo: “Why didn’t you tell me in advance before coming over?”

Quickly, I walked over from the staircase to meet him, grinning as I held up the paper bag in my hand.

MC: “I brought you breakfast! There’s bread, egg tarts, palmiers, sandwiches…”

I opened up the paper bag and showed him how filled to the brim with food it was, prompting him to let out a small laugh.

Xu Mo: “It’s only breakfast, how can I eat this much?”

I placed the bag on the table and turned around to walk towards the window.

MC: “It’s precisely because it’s breakfast that you should eat more nutritiously.”

“If you can’t finish it then you can have the leftovers for tea, supper, or snacks. How do you get inspiration during work if you don’t eat some food?”

With a quiet “swoosh”, I drew open the blinds completely—a dazzling gleam of light spread inside, and the monotonous white walls of the room immediately took on a golden hue. The green plants on the windowsill seemed to have woken up from their deep sleep, slowly swaying their branches and leaves to the mild morning wind now blowing into the room.

Xu Mo: “Turns out that the weather today is really good.”

When I looked back, Xu Mo was already bathing in the mild sunlight. His entire body was enveloped in a soft warmth, and the corners of his lips were curved slightly upwards, revealing a quiet gentleness comparable to the first rays of light in the morning.

Xu Mo: “If it weren’t for the experiment, I would have gone out to take a walk with you. I wonder, at this time, if there are any more peach blossoms in bloom around the suburbs.”

He spoke as slowly walked towards me.

Xu Mo: “Didn’t you say that you’ve been busy with a new show recently?”

“Coming to see me so suddenly, did you come across some difficulty?”

I flashed him a knowing smile and took out my own notebook from my bag.

MC: “It’s just as I’ve said before, it’s about inviting a professor in logical studies to do an episode of the show…”

Before I could finish what I was saying, Xu Mo shook his head and sighed softly.

Xu Mo: “…sure enough, you didn’t come here specially to bring me breakfast.”

For a moment I was stunned, but I quickly denied it.

MC: “Of course I came here specially to bring you breakfast, it’s just a coincidence that I have a question that I needed your advice for.”

But after listening to me, not only did Xu Mo lightly furrow his brows, his voice also fell, as if he has just suffered some terrible injustice.

Xu Mo: “...so you brought me breakfast only because you needed my advice on something?”

“We haven't seen each other in such a long time, yet you don't miss me at all.”

MC: “…w-wait!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not that I don’t miss you…”

At this moment, Xu Mo raised his eyes, which were twinkling with a hint of slyness. It was then I realised that I must have fallen into his trap once again. I looked at him and bit my lips with a huff. And yet, this man’s mood suddenly shifted happily as he came over to hold my hand with a smile.

Xu Mo: “Let’s have breakfast first.”

--

Under my “quiet” supervision, Xu Mo finished eating three egg tarts, two bread, and half a palmier before concluding this somewhat hearty breakfast. Although at the end he said that he really couldn’t eat anymore, there was still a happy smile on his lips.

Xu Mo: “Just spare me this round, Great Producer. I already know what I did wrong.”

“Now, I really know that you didn’t not miss me.”

He spoke slowly, dragging out the last part of his sentence as he took one last sip of coffee from his mug. He rested his chin on his hand and looked at the notebook in my hands. Before I had the time to think of a comeback to his words, he changed the topic.

Xu Mo: “Let me take a look at your question next.”

I really didn’t know what to do with him. I could only go along with his tempo; I opened up the notebook in my hands, spreading it on the table.

Xu Mo: “So this is the question that got you stuck.”

Xu Mo took a pen out of his pocket. Just as he was about to start writing, he looked over at me again.

Xu Mo: “Sitting opposite each other like this, it’s not so easy for me to write. Do you want to sit a bit closer?”

I nodded my head. I pulled my chair over and sat next to Xu Mo, shoulder to shoulder. Satisfied, Xu Mo smiled and wrote down the four letters “AEIO” on paper, forming a rectangle.

Xu Mo: “You can simply understand it this way: ‘A’ means complete affirmation, ‘E’ means complete negation, ‘I’ means partial affirmation, and ‘O’ means partial negation.”

“Among these, ‘A’ and ‘O’ have a contradictory relationship, just as ‘I’ and ‘E’ also have a contradictory relationship. Between them, there must be one that is true and one that is false. For example, taking what you said just now about how it’s not that you don’t miss me…”

“…it negates complete negation, which is to say that ‘E’ is false. In contrast, it confirms that ‘I’ is true, which is to say—you do miss me a little.”

“Is that right?”

The low voice that he used to slowly describe the concept flowed like sunlight. As I listened, I fell into a trance. The way the corners of his lips were raised subconsciously prompted me to smile along with him.

MC: “Right.”

A familiar light scent lingered between our breaths. I stared at his mesmerising eyes and only came to my senses much later. Xu Mo held my hands as an ambiguous smile appeared on his lips. His eyes narrowed slightly with the action, and he came closer.

Xu Mo: “Two days ago, I attended a lecture and happened to meet the Old Professor Xu that you invited as a guest on your show.”

“He was full of praises for you, saying that you and your team have already handed him the script two weeks ago. The questions on logical reasoning that he came up with, you managed to solve them all.”

“All these basic theoretical concepts have ceased to become a challenge for you much earlier on.”

“And yet you still came up with the excuse of having a question you needed my advice for…”

MC: “I…”

I avoided his stare guiltily, but still hesitantly hummed a soft “mhmm”. Xu Mo let out a helpless smile and sighed lightly. Raising his forefinger, he tapped me on the forehead gently.

Xu Mo: “Little liar, you only know how to bully me.”

Hurriedly, I tugged on the cuff of his white coat and softened my tone.

MC: “That’s why I said, I really came here specially to bring you breakfast.”

Xu Mo: “This isn’t the only thing I’m referring to.”

Xu Mo gazed into my eyes mysteriously, seemingly that no matter how I reacted afterwards, it would all be within his sight.

Xu Mo: “For the past two weeks, Aming often brings me supper; sometimes it's hot congee, other times it's vegetables and rice. He claims that it's takeaway, but the taste says otherwise.”

“The leaves of the spider plant on my balcony have long since turned yellow, and I haven't had the time to take care of it. However, when I glanced at it a few days ago, I found a new pot has long taken its place.”

“After returning to my office from the research centre early in the morning, I would sometimes find an extra cup of freshly-brewed tea.”

As he spoke, he showed an expression of serious contemplation, and his eyes revealed a faint puzzlement.

Xu Mo: “When did I start raising a little snail girl like you?”

He paused. Although it seemed like he still had some words left unsaid, he didn't continue speaking. Instead, he rubbed my hand with his fingertips, slowly, lightly, and very gently. I could feel the warmth from his fingertips, the slight, tingling itch resulting from his touch, and understood his momentary silence.

MC: “I should’ve known that I couldn’t keep this from you.”

I responded with a calm look. However, I suddenly remembered the little gift that I had prepared for him previously and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

MC: “But you still left out one thing.”

“I placed a humidifier on the corner of your coffee table—you didn’t notice it, did you?”

Xu Mo paused for a while and sighed softly.

Xu Mo: “How could I not notice? Moreover, the tea jar that I had already emptied out was filled with new tea leaves by a certain someone.”

“I even thought to myself, you must have gone out alone again to buy new tea leaves when I couldn’t take any time out.”

The light in Xu Mo’s eyes deepened. He leaned over and pressed his forehead against mine.

Xu Mo: “Did something happen recently?”

I shook my head subconsciously—after all, it really was nothing. He has his own things to be busy with, and he had promised me early on that we would go on a trip once his work has been dealt with.

However, during the times I couldn't hear footsteps coming from next door even after waiting all night, or when I picked up my phone only to remember that I shouldn’t bother him at work...

I really missed him.

Xu Mo's breath fell on my face, warm and a little moist—just like a light drizzle on a spring day, it felt as if one’s heartstrings were being gently caressed.

MC: “Truthfully… I miss you more than ‘just a little’.”

Xu Mo: “…me too.”

--

A week later, the new show entered the recording process as scheduled. It was fortunate that early preparations were done well, as the outcome exceeded expectations. Anna even felt that the show’s new season ratings could reach a new high, prompting me to prepare to treat everyone to dinner soon. I couldn’t wait to tell Xu Mo the good news and rushed over to the research centre as soon as work ended.

As I neared his office, I could hear Aming’s laughter coming from within.

Aming: “Professor, there is a secret that I’ve been keeping from you for a really long time. Let me tell you about it today! It has to do with MC…”

Upon hearing my own name, I lowered the hand that was reaching out to knock on the door, and discreetly looked into the office from behind the half-opened door.

Xu Mo and Aming sat facing each other, seemingly engaged in idle conversation. I had no idea what they were talking about that would prompt Aming to spill the beans so mysteriously.

Aming: “Actually, the suppers I have given you previously were all sent over by MC in secret.”

“One time it rained, and we all thought that she wouldn’t visit anymore. However, she still came and even brought all of us freshly-baked cakes and biscuits.”

“Also, there was once when she discovered that you’d finished drinking all your tea and refilled your jar with new tea leaves the very next day!”

As he spoke, he sighed deeply.

Aming: “It’s so nice having a girlfriend…”

All along Xu Mo had been listening quietly, but after hearing Aming sigh so deeply, he could not help but let out a laugh.

Xu Mo: “Why, are you jealous?”

I could not stop my hand from reaching out and knocked on the door lightly. Xu Mo smiled and stood up slowly.

Aming: “Professor, there’s someone looking for you, I should leave first.”

Just as I was about to push the door open and step inside, Aming pulled on the door knob. When our eyes met, he scratched his head awkwardly.

Aming: “MC, you’re here… I-I definitely did not tell the Professor your secret.”

“I still have a paper to write, I’ll be leaving first!”

I was just about to tell him that the Great Professor Xu had already discovered the secret earlier, but he slipped away and ran. I watched helplessly at his retreating back as he disappeared into the hallway. But before I could react, Xu Mo pulled me into the office with one hand.

Xu Mo: “Since you’re here at this time, has the recording ended? Did it go well?”

MC: “Mhmm, it just ended.”

“I don’t know what the outcome of the broadcast will be like. However, based on experience, it should go successfully… but how did you know that I came here to talk to you about this?”

Xu Mo: “Isn’t this our chemistry with each other? In the past, when you came to me like this, it was almost always to share good news with me.”

MC: “Then, how did your experiment go?”

The light in Xu Mo’s eyes shifted for a second, but there was a smile on his lips.

Xu Mo: “It failed.”

He let go of my hand and walked towards a filing cabinet, from which he took out a big stack of papers. On the cover, I saw the words “laboratory report” printed in bold. For a moment I was confused, unsure if he was just teasing me or telling the truth.

However, Xu Mo has already started putting the papers one by one into the paper shredder, and the quiet office was soon filled with the continuous buzzing sounds of the machine. Xu Mo saw the look of surprise and concern in my eyes, smile still on his face.

Xu Mo: “In a hundred experiments, it is indeed the success of the hundredth experiment that makes one happy. However, this does not mean that the previous ninety-nine failures are worthless.”

“It’s just like how you might encounter difficulties when you work on your shows; sometimes the ratings are poor, and sometimes the show’s reputation is not well-received. Similarly, my work often has such discouraging moments.”

“But it is fine, for failure is not important–knowing that you are on the wrong path is more important.”

Xu Mo looked at the thin sheets of paper in his hand, the smile in his eyes growing.

Xu Mo: “Hopefully, next time I would have good news to share with you too.”

MC: “But, after working so hard for such a long time just to not yield results…”

“If it were me, I would definitely be upset for quite some time.”

As the shredder swallowed the last page of the report, Xu Mo walked over in front of me and sighed lightly.

Xu Mo: “Indeed, no matter how small, the feeling of discontent is there.”

I thought about it for a while, and then offered Xu Mo an invitation.

MC: “How about we go out for a walk?”

“The weather today is great; we can take a stroll. Sometimes I just need to take in the sunlight for a bit and my mood becomes better.”

Xu Mo let out a laugh and agreed softly. With practised ease, he interlocked his fingers with mine, and led me out of the research centre.

As the weather became warmer, the streets were filled with more and more people. Despite it being a work day, the people passing us by were mostly in groups of three to five. Xu Mo held my hand tightly, as if worried that I would be separated from him in the crowd.

As we were walking, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, and advised me seriously.

Xu Mo: “In the future, don’t come out alone in the middle of the night.”

“You are not allowed to walk through the alleyways and take shortcuts, either.”

When he said the first sentence, I had wanted to crack a joke and make a silly face before simply agreeing to it. However, when he said “alleyways”, my entire heart jumped.

MC: “How did you know…”

The road back home from the research centre was a main road, and it has always been safe. There were many people walking on the road even at ten o’clock at night. There was one rainy day when I wanted to reach home quickly and took the alleyway as a shortcut.

Only once.

Xu Mo stood in front of me and placed a hand on my head.

Xu Mo: “How could I be at ease with you walking home alone at night?”

“However, if I had walked back home together with you, or simply spoke to you, I probably would not have been able to focus on my experiments.”

“That’s why, every time, I have always seen only you off downstairs, and waited until I could see your lights go on before turning around and going back to the research centre.”

“This way, I could also take a small break, slowly organising my thoughts on work for the day as I walk.”

MC: “……”

At the thought of him putting his work down, secretly following behind me just to protect me and see me home safely, and then waiting around downstairs until he could see my lights come on before walking back to the research centre under the night sky…

I suddenly felt bad inside.

My intention was to take care of him, but I did not expect that I would cause him this much trouble…

MC: “I’m sorry.”

Xu Mo shook his head and laughed gently.

Xu Mo: “Little fool, you don’t have to apologise, you didn’t give me any trouble.”

“The surprises that you gave me, I really liked them all. More than that, I could not help but look forward to them.”

“Looking forward to what kind of gifts you would bring me next time, and looking forward to the moment I could see you after a long, exhausting day of work…”

“This is the most interesting experience I’ve had in all these years of dry and routine life doing research.”

Xu Mo grabbed my hand and turned to look at the intersection.

Xu Mo: “Want to have some ice-cream?”

It was only then that I noticed a dessert shop selling ice-cream in front of us. I hesitated, but before I could speak, Xu Mo had spoken first.

Xu Mo: “I do want to eat it a little. Want to have it with me?”

I rarely saw this side of Xu Mo, so childlike and pure. I agreed immediately and jogged over to the dessert shop to buy two ice-cream cones.

MC: “Here, this ice-cream is my treat. Next time, I will surprise you in a more thoughtful way and not make you worry anymore.”

"This time's debt, let's just call it even!"

I handed one of the ice-cream cones to Xu Mo and then I could no longer resist tasting my own—the cooling sweetness melting at the tip of the tongue, the rich strawberry flavour giving one a sense of happiness.

At this very moment, Xu Mo bent over at the waist—

He leaned closer, pursed his lips slightly upwards, and, under my slightly dumbfounded gaze, gently licked the tip of the sweet cone in my hand.

The small ice-cream cone suddenly turned into a small mountain, separating two pairs of thin lips, yet not able to separate the sights we have of each other. In that moment, the boisterous and noisy crowd around us seemed like they have been put on pause. My heart was full, and I only had eyes for the pair right in front of mine, deep and vast like pools of water.

Xu Mo: “Mmm, it’s delicious.”

He straightened his back. In a good mood, the corner of his eyes curved into a smile, and at last he tasted the matcha-flavoured ice-cream cone in his hand. Even with a cunning smile in his eyes, the passing breeze seemed to have caught onto his aura, becoming a little gentler.

I could never figure out what to do with him…

MC: “Xu Mo, are you still going back to the research centre?”

Xu Mo: “The experiment is already over, so it’s time to go back and rest.”

MC: “What a coincidence, we’ll be going the same way!”

Lifting the corner of my lips, I reached my hand out towards him—

Xu Mo smiled gently, and held my hand without hesitation.

Xu Mo: "Mm, let's go home."

--

T/N: Little snail girl (田螺姑娘) is a character from a Chinese folklore of the same name. The story goes that a young farmer found an unusually big snail when he was out in the fields, so he decided to bring it home and take care of it. Since then, every time he came home from work, he would mysteriously find freshly-prepared dinner waiting for him. He later found out that the one who cooked for him was indeed the snail he brought home—and that she’s not just a snail after all, she’s a young and beautiful woman. They fell in love, got married, had children and lived happily ever after.

[pi-cat000]

MSA: ‘Too Late’ fanfic edition.

A gift fic for @loveallthing. Hey, I love your art, thanks for being awesome :). This fic is based on this work. Hope you like it. 

Summary: Things don’t work out too well for anyone (Hellbent AU). 

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“Get the hell away from Arthur.  YOU BASTARD!”

Vivi’s yell pierces the silence, drawing his attention. In amongst finding Lewis, falling onto a stone spike, and excruciating pain, he’s forgotten all about her. There is the sound of footsteps rushing nearby. He tries to blink or move but finds the action difficult. The space around him is a dense black, observing his vision.

Maybe, for a second, a flash of purple breaks through the endless dark. When he concentrates, he can feel vibrations. A second later he hears Vivi gasp in shock.

“No. No. Nononono.”

“NO!”

The yelling transitions from distressed to angry. Vivi is mad. Really mad. He should do something about that and let her know he’s okay. Only he isn’t okay. How could he be? That last thing he remembers is choking on his own blood. A spike wedged into his lower abdomen. Lewis standing over him, watching.

“You’ll pay for this!!”

Arthur’s never heard Vivi scream like that. Pure rage. He tries again to move, but everything is heavy, like his body asleep even when his mind is buzzing. Air is displaced nearby. Metal impacts metal, accompanied by more vibrations. Those footsteps grow fainter and further away.

“That’s right! You better run because I’M COMING FOR YOU!”

Vivi’s voice is far off now, only audible due to its volume. When Arthur concentrates, he thinks he can hear Lewis’s lower tone. All other sound fades. He needs to move. He needs to speak to Lewis. To explain himself. To apologies for…whatever he had done to deserve being skewered at the bottom of a cliff. To find out why.

Above him, as if in response to his new resolve, the darkness shimmers. The black expanse shifts from to grey and then lightens. It takes him second to realize that his eyes are open and he is staring up at the grey metal interior of a rectangular-shaped space.  He pushes, trying to sit up, struggling against the impossible weight holding him down. The more he struggles, the heavier the weight becomes, pulling him back.

No! He is not going to let himself be dragged away. Not yet! A horrible ripping sensation, like paper shredding, drowns out all other stimuli. Pain shoots up through his chest, akin but also different to the visceral feeling of landing on the spike. And, finally, Arthur sits up.

Reality materialises around him, solid, replacing the last vestiges of darkness with dim moonlight. He is sitting in a metal rectangle, resembling the bed of a semi-trailer. Out one end, Arthur can see the sky, moon, stars and the tips of desert cactus. One thing for sure is that this isn’t the purple cave. There are no spikes anywhere. No Lewis either for that matter. Where is Lewis? How is Arthur alive?

Troubled, Arthur rises into a standing position, scanning for answers. Dredd. The emotion is strong and vice-like. Something’s wrong. When he tries to move, he feels oddly uncoordinated and weightless. Almost like he’s floating.

He looks down at his legs.

He immediately wishes he hadn’t because he catches sight of the orange, yellow and red mess at his feet. Below him is…himself. Dead. Definitely dead. Dead and bleeding all over the metallic ground. Oh…So he hadn’t survived after all…White noise fills his head, blanking out his thoughts. This can’t be right. This can't be real. A high-pitched whine echoes, bouncing along the metal walls, and it takes Arthur a second to realise it’s him making the noise. Quickly, he backs away in horror, trying to put some distance between him and the messy scene.

/Arthur?/

The voice is deep, reverberating in his skull, snapping his attention up. He twists around, flinching to the side, raising a hand to cover his head. Blocking the entrance to the trailer is a large black and white fox. Its many tails fill the small opening, swaying back and forth in time to some unheard rhythm. Mystery. That’s Mystery. Arthur’s only seen this form once before now, and that hadn't exactly been a fun night either.

/Oh, Arthur. Do not be afraid./

The fox steps forward cautiously, head low. The tails still, dropping so they don’t look nearly as threatening as they could have. Trapped between Mystery and his own dead body, Arthur has nowhere to retreat to.

“What’s happening?” He asks instead, inching up along the wall. The action takes him closer to Mystery, but, right now, it is the lesser of two evils. He’s already dead, what more can Mystery do to him.

/I am so very sorry. /

He swallows nervously, but Mystery looks genuinely sad, like he feels responsible for this entire mess.

“Am I a ghost?” Lewis had been a ghost. It made sense that he was also a ghost. The evidence is pretty damning.

/I am sorry. / Mystery comes forward again, lowering his head to muzzle Arthur’s open palm. The hand, once made of metal, is now some sort of glowing yellow energy. Mystery’s nose is cool to touch. It has been a long while since Arthur’s felt sensation in that arm. Hesitantly, he reaches out with his opposite hand to ruffle the fur covering the fox’s head. When he does, the smell of rice fields, grass and dense forest waft up around him. For a second, he can almost hear a river rushing in the distance. The impression fades quickly, replacing fear with sadness.

“It’s not your fault,” He mutters, meeting Mystery’s gaze when the fox’s head tilts up.

/ I wish that were true, but I fear I have made a grave oversight. /

Arthur has no idea what to say to that, so he stands, floats, in commiserative silence.

“Mystery?” Vivi’s voice sounds from outside, causing both of them to shift in her direction. Her tone is flat and lifeless, very un-Vivi-like.

“You’re in my way.”

/Do not come ./ Mystery turns fully, using his bulk to shield Vivi from view. Yes. Good idea. Arthur doesn’t want Vivi seeing his body either.

/This is not something you want to see./

“Too fucking late!” Vivi snaps, anger returning, “Now, get out of my way. The least I can do is put him somewhere more comfortable before I hunt down that ghost bastard.” She spits the last few words.

/ I see. / Mystery wilts, eyeing him with a more unreadable expression, / Then perhaps you would reconsider those plans. /

“What are you…”

Vivi begins to argue, but her voice fails when Arthur pushes around Mystery. In the small space, the action is somewhat tricky. Arthur and Vivi make eye contact. She gasps. Slowly, he floats down out of the semi-trailer to hover on the dirt in front of her. Now he is away from his dead body, he can almost pretend everything is normal.

“Ah,” He greets unintelligibly.

“Arthur,” She breaths out his name, one hand over her mouth, belaying shock. Despite being partially covered by her hand, he can still see her red eyes and patchy face, meaning she’d been crying not too long ago. Arthur doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out why. Behind him, the air shimmers red, and Mystery reverts back to his smaller dog form, making himself far less menacing.

“So… I died. But I’m okay now,” He tries to reassure. It has the opposite effect, making her eyes go all watery, “Seriously.  No. Don’t cry!”

Vivi flings her arms around him in a hug. He almost expects them to go straight through him. 

They don’t.

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NOTE: You’ve done some nice art for my fic. Here is a fic for your art XD!

[randomguywithwords]

Thanks For The Assist: Chapter 4 (Itsuka X Neito Story)

AO3 Link: Here

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 

Chapter 4: Talking to Himself and Her

Sorry for the long wait. More notes at the end. Also I didn’t put a recap because this doesn’t immediately continue from chapter 3 (Monoma leaving Nezu’s office). Don’t worry, I provide context. Read on, I hope you enjoy this. 

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The buzz from his phone made Monoma stir from the menial task of hanging up his blazer. He picked it up, a faint smile gracing his lips at the notification. 

Kendo: Hey

Monoma: Hi, what’s up?

Kendo: R u free?

Monoma: Yeah, just got home, and there’s not much to do. You?

Kendo: On the train now.

Monoma: I see. How was today? 

Kendo: Crazy, it’s only been the second day and so much has happened. 

Monoma: Yeah, definitely didn’t expect an alarm to go off. 

Admittedly, it had startled him from his meal, but he hadn’t panicked and dashed for the exit like the rabble. Imagine U.A students being scared of an alarm, he scoffed internally. He instead peered out the window to see the horde of reporters barging onto the compound, which made him question the true disparity between adults and teenagers. Apparently, some of the others from 1A had noticed the media too.  

Kendo: Ikr, and apparently the seniors had never had it happen before. I heard one of them telling one of the 1A students. 

Monoma: Wow, was it the same guy who flew to the ceiling? The guy with spectacles? 

Kendo: I think so. That was brave of him :O 

Monoma: Mmhmm. 

It was more humorous than brave, seeing that caricature of a rectangle slam against the wall and holler, but Neito kept that to himself. Thinking about the authority that radiated from that person, another thought occurred to him which he typed out. 

Oh yeah, congrats on your appointment by the way.

Kendo: Ah, thanks heh. Hope I can do y’all proud. 

For its chairpersons, the class decided for a free-for-all vote similar to what 1A did, where everyone essentially voted for themselves, the rationale being that those willing to give up their vote for themselves in favour of one of their peers meant something. Despite the gaping flaws in logic, Monoma found himself being one of those very people who helped get Kendo to where she was. 

Although, he kept quiet about that. Sure, he would have wanted to become chairperson. What better way of drawing the spotlight to himself? That...that was one of the reasons he chose to enter the hero course...Still, he had reasons as to why he cast his vote for her, one of which he lacked the courage to admit to himself, much less engrave in prose. 

Monoma: Don’t worry, you’ll do great. 

Kendo: :D thx. 

Oh yeah, what happened yesterday after school? 

He found himself typing an answer even before her next message was received, his heart skipping a beat at the thought that she cared enough to ask why he wasn’t there yesterday. 

Don’t have to answer if it’s private >< 

Monoma: Nah, it’s fine. I was meeting the principal. 

Kendo: o_O Nezu? Wow, did you do something? 

Monoma: No, I’m taking lessons from him. 

Kendo: Whaaaat? That’s awesome! What r u learning? 

He grinned a bit, imagining Kendo saying that in person, with her jaw dropped. 

Monoma: Well, he told me to do some pre-reading on a book about ethics of quirk usage. Maybe something about morality or philosophy? 

Kendo: Sounds cool. Why’d he choose you though? 

Neito grimaced. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed out his answer, feeling a pang of guilt. His attempt to reason that it was a partial truth tasted bitter on his mind. 

Monoma: No idea. Might be because of my quirk. 

Kendo: That makes sense. It’s a unique one. 

Monoma: That’s a nice way of putting it. 

Nicer than what others have said about his quirk, at least. He wondered if she would catch that undertone in his message. 

Kendo was typing....Nothing….Kendo was typing...His heart dared to soar. 

Kendo: I mean, it is. You can theoretically use every quirk. Imagine using more than one quirk. That’d be insane.

Ah.

Monoma: Well, not every quirk. I can’t use quirks that require stored power, and I can only use one quirk at a time. But thanks.

Kendo: Oh, I c. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to expand on that.

Monoma: Maybe. I don’t know. 

Would he? Was U.A that good of a school to really improve quirks to that extent? Even though the motto’s been repeated far too many times for his liking in two days, to break the limits of a quirk...Was that even possible? Did heroes do that? 

I’m gonna go take a shower, sorry. 

Kendo: Np. TTYL?

Monoma: Yeah, sure. 

Monoma put down the phone and frowned. Why’d you say that? His conscience snarled. Seeking some sympathy? She doesn’t care, she’s not going to pacify your ego if you speak in such a roundabout way. 

SIghing, he plopped down on his bed. Curb your dramatics. You’re not performing for anyone. Your room is a theatre – an empty one, that is. 

Nice to always have that voice keep him in check. Maybe calling it his conscience was inaccurate, but that voice, whatever it represented, helped disperse the fog of arrogance whenever it got too thick. It was a constant, insufferable, miserable reminder that Monoma was both a background character getting less than a second of screentime (if any) in the movie called the universe. 

And it partially sounded like his mother. Just a bit. 

Yet his ego liked to believe he was a main character in his own story, which he was, but what kind of story was it? Not an important one, surely. Therefore, it was necessary that these two sides clashed. Clashing like two titans, but that was his ego talking. It was really more like two puppies yapping at each other. 

Stop thinking you’re more important than you really are. 

This self-contemplation was annoying. He left his room feeling the stage fright get to him. A stage fright where he was both an audience and actor. In other words, he was scared of what he was thinking. 

–––––––––

The clock read 0005. Ideally, Monoma would not even be reading those four numbers, but despite the school day tomorrow, the bright light from his phone lit up his face in the darkness of his room. A nightly ritual of his, scrolling through social media feeds. A ritual that drained his vitality and energy from the next day, but a ritual nonetheless. 

He read through some posts about procrastination, staying up late, and chuckled to himself, in his head. It might not have been hilarious, but it was empathetic. 

He watched a video about the scale of the universe relative to him. The next post encouraged him that his life experiences were important and unique to himself. 

Finally, he saw a meme on Romeo & Juliet, thought about it for a while, and then went to sleep. 

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Yeah, nearly a month since chapter 3 and I only have 1k words to show for it. Doesn’t say much, but I went through a ton of issues while writing this, including procrastination, writer’s block and not knowing what this story should be about besides Monokendou. But after a depressing day of having to socialise way outside my comfort zone, I went back and just finished this. I think this shows enough of Monoma’s character...? Idk it might be disappointing to some, sorry. 

Uh also somehow I still gained followers and my activity never flatlined? That was honestly mind-blowing (and I felt hella guilty). But I didn’t want to cheapen out by just typing an apology / thanks without having anything to show, so I decided when I did express all that, it would be with the publishing of a new chapter. So...thanks. Next is Chapter 18 for ATDS.