#sometime in the distant future we will be able to hear the full version…… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misc-headcanons · 4 years ago

Text

1st Place Prize: Full Fluff Alphabet (Law)

For @dragonprincess18 , 1st place winner of the 1000+ Followers giveaway!

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If you have an interest in medicine, he'll teach you what he knows (and even if you aren't interested, he may teach you basic first aid just as a precaution while on the seas). He'll also tell them all about his coin collection because his s/o is one of the few people he's comfortable enough around to e the gigantic fucking nerd we all know he is. He's also been meaning to learn how to cook (he's very good at boiling water for coffee or soup, but that's about it), so he'd probably want to learn together with you. I also think he's good at sketching, but doesn't do much aside from anatomical drawings; as he gets closer with you though, he might start drawing you in a more artistic sense in his spare time.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

The fact that you're with him of all people sometimes astounds him. He intentionally tries to close off his emotions and issues to others and can come across as very cold, so the fact that you love him despite that makes him grateful to have a partner who's so understanding and patient. He hasn't had that kind of warm presence around him since Corazon, and he wishes that you two could have met because of how alike you are in some ways.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Law's got the medical knowledge to know how to handle this, plus he's experienced panic attacks before. He'd get you to an isolated spot away from everyone else and softly tell you to breathe with him until you ride through that initial "wave" of anxiety and panic. Once it's passed, he'd get you something to drink and ask if you needed anything.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Once his business with his friends (allies) in the Straw Hats is concluded and Kaido is out of the way, he'd want to continue on to find the One Piece. He likes the idea of traveling to Raftel with you, and he'd set up a life for the two of you (as well as his crew) in some distant island for you all to come home to in between your travels across the sea. Honestly a part of him never thought he'd have the chance to live that long (with his history with Doflamingo and constant dangers following him throughout his life), so he doesn't have any specific goals in mind. He just wants to relax for a while with you beside him.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Mainly passive, but he'll sometimes be the dominant one. He thinks he isn't the romantic type, so when it comes to your relationship he's fine with you taking the reins. If you like things like PDA or private names, you'd have to initiate it because he's not likely to do that on his own. He's dominant mainly when he's being protective of you, especially if you're the kind of loyal partner who wants to fight alongside Law--even when he's demanding you run to safety with the rest of the crew, and is repeatedly having to Shamble you out of a fight.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Law tends to internalize his frustration and anger during an argument and will act very cold at first. As he and his partner argue more and more, he would respond shortly and curtly, and he'll get more and more upset with their stubbornness and refusal to just walk away. If you push him long enough he'll explode a bit, letting his bottled up emotions out in one angry outburst where he'll likely say something he doesn't mean.

When it comes to forgiving his s/o, it may take a while (a day or so of avoiding them and silence, and awkwardness when they're in a room together) but in the end he'll always forgive them. He's lost enough loved ones in his life, and he doesn't want his pride to keep him from losing you as well.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Law's very aware of when his s/o is doing something for him. He's always grateful for these acts of kindness, even if they're small in the grand scheme of things (making coffee for him, setting out the medical textbooks he was meaning to read later in the day, etc) He'll have a small smile on his face when he thanks them, either by saying it out loud or being a bit more affectionate than usual.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

At the start of the relationship, Law is very guarded. Once you two develop more trust for each other, he'll tell you more about his past and his plans for the future. His s/o will eventually become one of his closest confidants, if not the person he shares secrets with. Even then though, he may be inclined to keep some things hidden from you just to keep you safe (eg. He may not reveal the full steps of his plan to take out Kaido, just so in case you're captured you can't be forced to reveal everything). He's a pretty strategic guy, after all--even if things tend to go off-script if say, Luffy is involved.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Having an s/o has helped him significantly with some of his emotional issues surrounding Corazon's death. He has his nakama who he trusts completely, but being close with someone in a romantic context is new to him. It's not like he has that much real-world experience with romance and dating, since his adolescence and young adulthood has been...not ideal for that sort of thing. He's gotten better at not just freezing up in surprise whenever his s/o kisses him, and actually taking some initiative to give affection in return. Between his trust issues with new people and how cold he comes off sometimes, he's actively tried to work through those problems so he can be the partner his s/o deserves. Bepo and the rest of the crew have noticed how Law has started to smile and laugh more after he met you, and how he's a bit less wound-up when he's stressed.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Law's not that jealous, but he does have his moments. He pushes those feelings down and doesn't act on them (unless someone is actively flirting with his s/o or something blatant--then, he's going to have to step in and tell them to stop going after someone completely out of their league). At most, he'll sound more curt and will want to get his s/o away from the person making him jealous as soon as possible.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Law's first kiss with his s/o was equal parts adorable and awkward. Aside from one or two drunken one-night encounters while traveling the seas, he doesn't have much experience in this area--and when it comes to kisses as a form of genuine romantic affection, he had NO experience until his s/o kissed his cheek one night when they were alone on the Polar Tang. He was so surprised by it that he just sort of...froze up and stared straight ahead for a while. Eventually he'd realize that he should probably return this gesture, and he would awkwardly turn around before kissing her with little-to-no-technique in mind. It's short, only a few seconds before he pulls away to gauge their reaction; judging by the sweet smile on their face at finally getting a kiss from him, he couldn't have been that terrible. His s/o immediately leaned forward to kiss him again, and it led to Law learning quite a bit in one evening about how to kiss someone.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Law wouldn't do any dramatic or grand gestures when confessing. I think it would be really obvious that he's in love with you, so it's just a matter of not revealing that you already know when he finally says it. He'd be more quiet than usual one night, going over exactly what he was going to say to you. When you ask him if he's alright, he immediately blanks on what he had planned to say and just says "...I love you."

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Because of the target it might place on your back for being his spouse, he would be hesitant to propose. But over time, he would start to imagine what you'd look like with a ring on your finger, introducing yourself to people as Trafalgar ____...eventually he'd conclude that just being with him as an s/o puts you in danger, and you don't care about the danger because you care about him more.

Much like his love confession, he'd have what he wants to say planned out...but the second you look at him with those warm, kind eyes of yours and ask why he's acting so nervous, he'd just take out the ring and ask you to marry him. When you say yes, he slips the ring on your finger, holds you close, and tells you that he loves you with a small smile on his face.

Your relationship wouldn't change that much after getting married, aside from him being more openly affectionate sometimes when you're on an island together. Calling you his husband/wife/spouse always gives him a strange, almost giddy feeling in his chest the instant he says it out loud. You two are married. He's...your husband. It's an odd thing to think about, but it's odd in a good way; he's kind of surprised that he managed to find someone who he'd want to marry and who would want to marry him. His one regret is that Corazon wasn't able to meet you, and during the small ceremony on the Polar Tang, he leaves one seat empty for him.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

He normally just calls you your name, or a shortened version of it, ("Jess" instead of Jessica, "Tony" instead of Anthony) when you guys are around other people. Sometimes on the Tang, he'll call you "honey" and the rest of the crew is ecstatic whenever they hear him call you that...to his slight embarrassment. They just think it's so cute to hear him call you "honey".

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He tends to stare at the person he's in love with, and is just awful at saying how he feels to them. He'll have what he wants to say to them planned out in his head, and the instant he goes to open his mouth he totally blanks. There are times where he's walked up to his s/o, panicked when he actually looked at them and was distracted by how attractive they looked, and how they always make him feel vulnerable, albeit in a good way...and just looks at them in silence for a while before walking away.

He's better at expressing his feelings in writing, so his love confession would probably include either a little written speech or bullet points of what he wants to say, or he'd give his crush a full letter and at the end, ask them to come to his room to talk privately.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He's not big on PDA, since every time he is openly affectionate with you his crewmates can't help but remark at how cute it is to see you two together. He's also a bit of a shy guy when it comes to giving and receiving affection; if you kissed him on the cheek, he'd freeze for a second before awkwardly taking your hand or something. His PDA is more casual, like having you lean against him (or leaning against you) and taking your hand when you two are walking around. At the first sign of danger, he'll instinctively either take your hand or put an arm out in front of you.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Law's a great listener, and he remembers a lot about the people he cares about. You could mention craving something for dinner and then a few days later, and he'll write down the ingredients for it; a few days later, he and Shachi are making it for the crew's dinner and he gives you the first place. He isn't one for grand romantic gestures, but he'll do little things like that because he cares about you and likes knowing that he made you feel happy and appreciated.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

As said previously, he's not one for big, romantic, Sanji-esque gestures; he thinks that kind of over-the-top sentiment would annoy you (and it would definitely annoy him). Some of the romantic gestures he displays are a bit cliche, though, in a sweet kind of way. He'll write short notes to his s/o when he wakes up before them, just to say where he's at; he'll always write "good morning" at the top though, and sometimes will add little cute messages as well: "You looked like you were dreaming about something nice, so I didn't want to wake you", "It's cold out and I already wish I was back in bed with you", etc.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He's absolutely helping his s/o reach their goals, no matter what they are. A lot of his help comes in the form of advice and constructive criticism when he thinks something isn't a good idea; it's usually said a bit bluntly, but it's not meant to be an insult. He's saying these things from a genuine place, but he doesn't realize how cold and blunt he can sound sometimes.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

With how chaotic life as a pirate captain (and a Supernova...and a former Warlord, lol) can be, he enjoys the little routines he has with his crew and his s/o. Waking up in the morning, going to bed at night, eating meals with you, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, the whole family...he treasures it not despite how mundane it is, but because of how mundane it is.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He's an intuitive guy...at times. When you're upset about something, he can tell that you are in fact upset, but he tends not to know why you are. Even if you two previously had an argument over him being too protective, and you're a bit more sulky a few days later, he'd actually wonder what you might be upset about. Similar to Luffy, he's equal parts observant and ignorant sometimes.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is one of THE most important things to them. Prior to meeting his nakama and falling in love with his s/o, he had almost lost hope in his ability to actually feel love at all--familial, platonic, or romantic. When he became the captain of the Heart Pirates, he realized that he could love again. He realized it again when he met his s/o. And he would sacrifice anything if it meant he could keep them safe.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He LOVES. LOOOOVES seeing you wear his clothes. He’ll be looking for his hat, see you in bed wearing it just for fun, and he feels a stereotypically romantic fluttering in his chest. It’s such a romantic cliche, so he tries to hide how much it affects him...he’s not that good at hiding it, though.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He's more affectionate in private, compared to when there are people watching; though if he's on the Polar Tang with his crew, he doesn't mind being affectionate either (though he gets a little embarrassed when they talk about how sweet it is to see him being cute with you). He likes leaning on you when you're sitting together (or when you lean on him), having you rest on his lap while he reads a book or something, having his hand on yours or on your thigh or shoulder...his PDA is very casual.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He tries to "logic" his way out of missing them, if that makes sense. He'll remind himself that it'll only be a few more weeks until he gets to safely see you again, and that he's had to wait longer to see you--he can wait a little longer. He'll also try not to think of how much he misses you too often, but it still always manages to enter his mind.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Law would absolutely kill for his s/o (and probably has, if the Marines or other enemies have ever tried to hurt them). And as for the farthest he'd go...If he had to make a decision that meant either his s/o and crew or say, Luffy and the Straw Hats? If he was pushed into a corner and absolutely could NOT find a way to save them both, he'd choose his s/o and his nakama.

#law #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece headcanon #one piece headcanons #sfw alphabet #fluff alphabet #mine #1000+ followers

194 notes · View notes

captainillogical · 4 years ago

Text

Home Ch.3

The domesticity of living with an alien who hasn’t quite had the chance at a normal life.

Distant Lands sequel.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

Chapter Rating: Explicit

A/N: I’m sorry about the previous version guys, wasn’t my intention to write it that way, and thanks for all the feedback. Changed some things, added another thousand or so words, and re-wrote some dialogue. Thank you Star for all your help p:

This chapter is NSFW. I’m pretty sure one of the people that sent me shit was a minor, so I’d like to say this again, ya’ll. No minors.

"Why do 'ya seem a little out of breath? You run up the stairs?" Your girlfriend asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No reason," You lie, she doesn't need to know of whatever that was. It was probably nothing, anyway. You're just paranoid. "Met another human that lives a few floors down from us though."

"Another human lives here? Huh," She answers, interested. She's got half your boxes open, and has already stacked most of the books inside your bookcase in the living room. It's.. it's stacked like a fire hazard. You don't know what you were expecting. "Bismuth did say that more humans were starting to live in this area. Was he nice?"

"Yeah, he did ask me a lot of questions about you though."

She gives you a particular look. "Why'd he ask about me.."

"I might've mentioned I was living with my girlfriend." You say sheepishly.

"Aw jeez," She groans, wiping her face a bit dramatically with her gloved hand.

"Am I supposed to keep quiet about it?"

"No! No. I just haven't had the chance to tell any of our neighbors about it yet." She replies guiltily. She pushes a twintail over her shoulder, getting it out of the way as she digs into an open box.

"Spinel!" You hiss out.

"What! I've been busy!" She wails. "And also, two of the quartzes on this floor are such huge gossips that I've maybe avoided the conversation with them! They've pried SO much already about my past and it's kinda 'irritatin. I know once they figure out that you're livin' with me, they're gonna bombard me with even more questions."

"Ugh, okay, you get a pass today."

"Today," She repeats, deadpan. "I should get a pass whenever."

"Nah, you're not special enough." You chuckle, grabbing some of your books to restack them into something actually resembling a bookcase.

"I am to you," She pouts a little, which is really endearing.

"Ehhhhhhh," You start, sarcastically, until you feel a pinch on your ass and you cut off mid sentence to yelp. You whip your head around to glare at your girlfriend. "Spinel!"

"Deserved it." She grins, peering at you from the side. You contemplate throwing a book at her, but your stomach rumbles instead.

"Can you finish opening all of these boxes? I'm gonna make myself some food real quick," You say, finishing restacking that one shelf and walking into the kitchen. "I wanna be completely unpacked tonight if possible. I hate moving for this reason."

You hear her make an offended noise from the living room. "Was how I stacked these not good enough for you?!"

"I hate to break this to you, but like," You pause to open your fridge, rifling through what you bought earlier. "Pretty sure they were one bump away from being all over the floor."

"Looked fine to me."

"Have you ever had to organize anything, ever?" You take the ingredients out to make a sandwich, plopping the contents on the counter.

"..I think I'm more of the fun type, personally." She answers, and you hear her toss an empty box off to the side. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and opt to ignore it for a little bit while you feed yourself.

"Yeah? You think so?" You snicker, adding an extra slice of cheese to your ham sandwich. "I thought you were more of the 'village idiot' type."

She sputters, and you walk out of the kitchen with your sandwich in hand to see her glaring at you non-threateningly. "That's more of a you type."

"No way! You don't even have any proof." You take a bite out of your food in hand, watching her pull out some of your cute plushies that Steven has gifted you over the years. Sandwich is a bit dry.. shoulda put on more mayo. Oh well.

"Are 'ya fuckin' kidding me?" She stares at you, deadpan. Her left eye is twitching. "Why don't we revisit everything that happened on Golgotha? Hmmmmm?"

"Okay that's not completely fair," You take another bite, and chew it thoughtfully. "It's not like I asked for that to happen to me. It was all self preservation. Besides, it's not like you made it easy."

She opens her mouth to retort with something just as an arm comes out of your hair - she screams, making you drop your sandwich.

"W-WHAT IS THAT!?"

You grab the arm, and yank Steven out of the portal he's created through your hair. He tumbles to the floor, groaning and rubbing his butt.

"You could just, like, I don't know, knock?!" You hiss out at him, patting the side of your head. That was.. uh. That felt weird.

"Maybe you should read your texts sometime!" He groans, flopping on the floor, arms out. "My poor back.."

"My fucking sandwich," You sigh, feeling sad for what could've been your life had you been able to eat the rest of it. "You owe me another one."

"I'll make you twenty if you help me not embarrass myself in front of Connie's mom again."

"Deal." You grab his hand, helping lift him off the floor, and throw the rest of your destroyed sandwich into the garbage bin.

"Am I 'gonna get an explanation for that or are we ignoring it." Spinel says as she stares at the two of you like you've each grown another head.

"Oh, he can just do that now that he pink’d me.” You answer quite bluntly, and Steven opens his mouth in offense.

“Don’t call it that! But she’s technically right.” He gives you a tired look, and it makes you feel a little gleeful that you can still get this kind of reaction out of him whenever you want. “I can do it with Lars too, but he’s taken to threatening me whenever I do it now.”

“You interrupt him in the bathroom again?” You grin at him, and his cheeks color slightly.

“No!” He says all too quickly.

“Wait,” Spinel lowers her eyes to you, getting a strange expression on her face. She walks closer to you. “He can do that just whenever?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m sure he’ll ask beforehand, but yes,” You reply to her, watching as she lifts a hand to your head. “What’re you-”

“-does that mean I can?” She jabs the side of your head with her gloved hand without waiting for an answer - you slap her hand away as Steven laughs.

“No,” You sigh, Spinel only looking a little put out. “Steven’s the only gem who can. That would be a nightmare otherwise.”

“Anyway, I also came over to give you an update.” Steven clears his throat.

“For what?” You ask, now concerned. “Couldn’t you have just texted?”

“What, so you can just not look at it or text me back?” He shoots a pointed look at you, and you only feel a little bit guilty. “No, I needed to change your schedule specifically to fit around two others, so your first lesson got moved up to a bigger slot. It’s tomorrow. I’m sorry for the short notice.”

You stare at him, unsure of what to say.

“If you’re not ready, I can have Pearl take over for the time being-”

“-No! No. It’s fine, I just needed to mentally adjust to it.” You shake your head vigorously, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. You feel the anxiety swirling in your gut, but you manage to push most of it down for now. “I’m basically done with all my prep for it, anyway.”

“Only if you’re sure, Y/N.” He looks at you like he’s waiting for your face to betray you of something, but you ignore it. “Because you can talk to me if you’re-”

“It’s fine, Steven.” You cut him off. “You worry too much. Besides, you’ve got bigger things on your plate. Y’know, like Mrs. Maheswaran’s divine judgement.”

“Ugggggghhh, thanks for the reminder.” He wipes his hand down his face dramatically. “She wants me to come over for dinner this weekend so she can talk to the two of us about something. I’m not even sure what.”

“Buddy, you know she’s gonna grill you about your future.” You reply, and peer into the open box to the left of you. It’s full of kitchen supplies.

“That’s guaranteed.” He sighs, grabbing some of the items from you and putting them away. Of course he’s helping without any kind of prompt. “I don’t mind it, but I’d like a single dinner with them where I’m not feeling like I’m putting on some kind of performance.”

Your anxiety is still at the forefront of your mind.

“It can’t be that bad.” Spinel turns to him, breaking down the empty box in her hand.

“You’ve never met Mrs. Maheswaran.” He retorts, placing your tea infusers into the silverware drawer and shutting it with a clank. “You have no idea what it feels like to talk to her. Sure she’s nice, but it’s like she’s always watching you under a little microscope..”

Spinel gives him some kind of snide response and snickers, and you hear Steven chuckle and holler out something in reply to that - but you had somehow tuned out the words as you opened the box to your bathroom supplies.

“Give me a few, I’m gonna put all these away real quick,” You manage to say to them before ducking into the bathroom, neither of them seeming to notice your brief change in mood as you leave the door three-quarters closed.

You can still hear them making jabs at each other while Steven talks to Spinel about all the pressure Connie’s mom has put him under the last few years, and you set your box down on the toilet.

Uggghhh, okay. You can deal with this. You have no idea why something as simple as moving a lesson up two days is fucking you up this much, but you’re gonna have to deal with it anyway. Why the fuck are you so nervous? You’ve dealt with worse. You have your lessons ready - they’re basic things anyway. It’s easy. Sure, there’s a big crowd for attendance which is a little unheard of, but maybe more gems want to befriend and understand humans than you had previously considered.

You grab your box of hair ties and scrunchies, and shove them under the sink. You don’t need extras right now. You can still feel the anxiety there, under your skin. You pick up your blow dryer and straightener, placing those down as well. Why did Steven seem like he was expecting you to back out?

Does he think you’re incapable of handling this? Is this some kind of test?

You pull out your phone to text Amethyst.

[21:42] Y/N: Quick question.

[21:42] Y/N: You think I’m capable of teaching those classes?

You set your phone down after hitting send, and grab all your soaps to put away as you wait for a reply. Spinel’s voice rings out from the living room, and you focus on the sound of it for the time being. You reach into the box again, and pull out all your hair dye supplies from a while ago.

Huh.

You turn the container of bleach around in your hand.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and try not to wince at the reflection. You probably couldn’t.. right? You don’t think that your hair would take any kind of bleach or dye now. The utter irony is that you’ve experimented with every single other color for your hair before this, claiming you would never try pink to Steven.. and now it’s.. permanent.

Your phone buzzes on the counter. You pick it up.

[21:44] Amethyst: uhh.. yeah?

[21:44] Amethyst: the fuck you asking for?

Okay, well. Now you just seem paranoid.

[21:44] Y/N: No reason..

Your fingers are hovering over the keyboard, and as you’re figuring out what to continue to type, she shoots a text back nearly instantly.

[21:45] Amethyst: :/

You put your phone back into your pocket. You don’t really feel like asking what that face is for, because you think you know the answer.

You finish putting away the remnants of what was left in the box, and walk back out into the living room where Steven and Spinel are now talking about how he met Connie. You throw your empty box off to the side, and look at all the stuff you have left to unpack on the floor. It’s not much left, you’re well over two-thirds done at this point, and ohhhhhhhhhhh you forgot about your laundry.

You let the other two know that you’ll be back in a few - Spinel shoots you a look that you ignore, and you head downstairs.

Your mind wanders nervously the entire way down, and the laundry room is empty when you arrive to get your clothes. Amethyst texts you again, asking you if you're okay, and you shoot her a quick 'yup just peachy'. You get your dry clothes, placing them into your hamper, and you scurry back to your floor to avoid any weird confrontations.

When you get back inside, you manage to catch the tail end of a quiet mutter from Steven to Spinel before he quickly runs his sentence into something else, and at an increased volume to avoid suspicion. You opt to pretend you didn't notice, and you easily slide back into the conversation as the three of you finish what you had set out tonight to accomplish.

Steven ends up leaving the normal way after you and him have a heavy discussion laying on your living room floor about his dinner problem, and he gives you an especially hard hug after letting you know he'll drop by after your lesson tomorrow to see how it goes with lunch that he now owes you.

The door in front of you closes with a click, and you lock it for the night. Not that you're expecting anyone to barge in, but force of habit.

You're weirdly mentally exhausted.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower. I feel kinda gross." Is what you hear coming out of your mouth, and you move to grab fresh laundry out of your pile that you left on the couch.

“I’m gonna try to finally figure out how to work this TV, then.” She replies, and you make your way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You place your clean clothes on the toilet lid as you turn the shower on, letting the room fill up with steam as you take off your clothes and kick them into the corner to deal with later. You don't really wanna take a shower in silence, so you opt to put some music on in the background.

You pull the curtain back, steam rolling out and hitting you directly in the face as you step inside the tub. It's so scaldingly hot that you barely manage to hold back a scream as you adjust the temp and stand away from the stream.

After a couple seconds or so the water finally gets to a more reasonable temperature and you stand underneath it to let it soak you. It feels nice.

You look down to grab your shampoo, but instead see the gnarly scar on your stomach, and stop. You stare at it a while. The raised skin along the outer ring of where you basically got hole-punched feels weird. It's also a slightly darker pink than the rest of your skin, which you're still not really used to when you get a glimpse of yourself.

You remember the feeling of being pierced, and decide to stop thinking about this all together for now.

You grab the shampoo bottle and pour some into your hand, rubbing it into your scalp. You feel your muscles relax.

The door to the bathroom opens and closes, and all of a sudden you hear the shower curtain being pulled back.

"Do you MIND." You slap your arms around yourself self consciously, still having soap in your hair. You can't see shit but you know it's Spinel.

"Pfft, 'ya act like I've never seen you naked. Anyway, I just wanted to know how to turn on the TV? I can’t figure it out." She asks, letting the colder air of the bathroom in, and you can hear some water hitting the floor.

"Will you close the curtain," You reach out, grabbing the edge of the vinyl liner, just as Spinel opens it wider to step inside with you. "-what the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh, the water’s warm? This doesn’t feel too bad," You rinse the rest of your shampoo out, just to see her fully clothed half a foot from you, hand reaching out to touch the stream of water. Your heart is beating wildly - but you find yourself at ease with her presence in here, oddly enough. She’s watching you curiously.

"What, you can't figure the TV out yourself? And you thought I took cold showers, really?!" You scoff at her, unfazed at this point by her antics. "The fact that you're in here with clothes on kinda says everything about you."

"I can take 'em off." She says to you, like, duh Y/N, don't you even know me by now? You glare at her, which isn't hard since there's water being sprayed onto you and into your eyes, and she phases off her clothes, shoes and all in an instant. "Better?" She asks, like she’s doing you a favor.

"Gems don't need to take showers." You deadpan at her. "And weren't you trying to figure out the TV?"

"Just because I don't need to doesn't mean I can't. Also, I could help 'ya." She says cheekily, grinning a little.

"I don't need help bathing myself," You roll your eyes at her in jest, water starting to drench her hair. You think it’s really cute that she offers, but you’re sure she just wants a chance at messing around with you. Not that you’d really mind right now, and well.. you school your face into one that isn’t obvious to what you’re currently thinking about. You try not to focus too much on her gemstone in the middle of her chest, or her breasts, or those soft looking shoulders, or the rest of her naked expanse of skin - you need to stop before you get carried away. "..but I bet you would."

“Are ‘ya saying I can’t figure out something as simple as bathing? Something I’ve watched you do? Wow. I’m hurt, Y/N.” She feigns offense, looking around at the bottles of soap and shampoo products you have in here, picking them up and starting at the labels.

“Then try it.” You watch her eye a bar of soap, and then pick it up with her wet hands. It almost shoots out of her hands at you, and she barely manages to keep it within her grip hilariously enough.

“See, I know what I’m doing,” She says stubbornly, bringing the bar up to her nose to smell it. She rubs a bit of the suds off, wiping it on her palm curiously. All of a sudden, you get a really good idea.

“Yeah, and if you actually did, you’d know that that’s what I use to clean the inside of my mouth.” You raise your eyebrows at her, begging your own face to not betray you.

“Wait, really?!” Her eyes widen, giving you a slightly disturbed look. She peers at the soap, bringing it closer to her face. “I mean, it smells good and the shape is right..”

She licks it, and immediately gags. The look on her face of utter disgust is the best thing you’ve seen all week.

“AUUUUGH,” She wails, pushing her face into the water to scrape off the remaining soap, and the laugh that comes out of your mouth is so loud it echoes throughout the bathroom. “Y/N!”

“Gullible.” Is all you can say between laughs, and she musters a glare at you.

“I trusted you!”

“That was your mistake.” You retort with a grin. “I don’t eat soap. I’m surprised you believed that.”

“Never AGAIN.” She gags one more time, and you grab for your bottle of conditioner.

“Here, lemme show you.” You step outside of the constant stream of water, and trade places with Spinel. Once you’re done rubbing the conditioner into your own hair, you grab your shampoo for her. You look at her drenched in water, watching you closely. You won’t lie when it makes your heart flutter in your chest, and it feels a little like falling. “Can you take your hair down for this?”

“Oh, sure,” She makes quick work of undoing her hair, and yeah, you’re definitely staring at her now. You’re having a really hard time hiding it. Getting some shampoo in your hand, you have her step out of the water for a moment and start rubbing it into her scalp. She relaxes so much into your touch that you feel your heart start to beat a little faster. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You answer.

“You seemed kind of off earlier.” She says, and you quickly rip your gaze from her. She definitely notices. “I could just.. tell.”

“It’s nothing, really.” You sigh, rubbing small circles into her scalp. You were kind of hoping she’d brush it off, but noooooo. She has to be observant.

She grabs your hands to still your motions momentarily, giving you a more serious look. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, I’m just anxious about tomorrow, I’ll get over it.” You meet her eyes again, and hers waver between yours as if she’s searching for a different answer. Like she doesn’t really believe you, even though honestly, that’s all it really is. You feel a little something there in your chest when you realize that she’s only like this because she actually cares about you. “Don’t worry about me.” You insist, not really wanting to overthink the day you’ve got ahead of you.

“Want me to come to the lesson?" She offers as she drops your hands, tilting her head in question; a glob of shampoo suds run down the side of her neck. The sight is weirdly enticing.. or maybe you’re just a little pent up. Being here alone with her after what feels like forever, and naked on top of that has your brain thinking of things you probably shouldn’t be thinking of right now.

You’re only a little ashamed of yourself.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Spinel. You’ll just give me performance anxiety.” You resume massaging her scalp, managing to get some shampoo also into her ends. You briefly have a passing thought about not wanting to dry out her long strands, because split ends at this hair length fucking blow, and then you remember she’s a gem. That doesn’t even matter. You feel a little jealous that she doesn’t have to put these kinds of thoughts into her daily routine.

"I wouldn't do anything, promise. Maybe a comment or two, but that's it." She retorts as she brings her palms up in feign offense, and you push her gently back by her shoulders under the stream of water to rinse out her hair, careful to not get her eyes. She sighs as you run your fingers against her scalp, eyes nearly drooping she’s so relaxed. "This feels really nice.." She mumbles, and the way it has your heart feeling like someone’s dropped pop rocks into it..

"I know you have work to do tomorrow though, so don't shirk your duties.” You’re basically caressing her head at this point, and she’s totally leaning into it completely. You have a feeling if you dropped your hands from her head, it’d slam into a wall. “I'll ask Garnet to sit in since she offered."

"Y/N." She looks at you, water running down her hair and face, cascading over her small shoulders. The marks beneath her eyes are strikingly dark in this light, and her pink irises are locked onto yours. You're barely listening to the lofi song playing in the background as it's mainly drained out by the white noise of the shower. She's pretty, in a way that you probably think she's never considered before, and sometimes you wish you could say this out loud without feeling like you'd combust on the spot instead. She then opens her mouth almost hesitantly, like she's finding the proper words to say. "If 'ya need me, I can be there. But.. you're kind of the bravest person I know by a long shot, so.. I know you'll be okay. You've got this, doll."

You feel your face burning at the pet name and her words, and you find yourself avoiding her eyes again. You can’t even think of a reply, and feel like you might have a heart attack.

"Are you blushing?!" She grabs your forearms in glee, and you feel your face scowling just to cover up the fact that she can have this kind of effect on you. No one has this effect on you, and goddammit you’re not about to start showing it now.

"No, idiot. It's just hot in here.." You retort, and she leans right into your personal space, about an inch from your face. Your heartbeats feel so INCREDIBLY loud in your ears.

"Liar." Her grin gets wider, and you can see her canines right there at the edge of her lip. WHY is she so attractive?! This should be illegal. "I can keep talking 'ya up if that's what you need."

"Not necessary, or needed, really.." You trail off awkwardly, knowing your face is still beet red and pretending it’s from the heat of the shower.

"Did'ja know that you're also the funniest person I know? And the smartest? And the sexi-"

"-SPINEL." You cut her off with a choke, voice coming out all strangled.

"You've got 'ta be the most stubborn person alive, I swear." She lowers her eyes, gaze lingering on your lips. The way some of her water-logged hair clings to her skin has your eyes glued to her chest, and the gem that sits upon it.

"You should spend a few weeks hanging out with Pearl." You try to play it off cool, and you’re anything but.

"Why, when I'd rather spend it with you." She retorts with an eyeroll, and like, you know that the both of you have your affections laid out on the metaphorical table already, but you still find your face burning at her being so clear with it. “If it’s not compliments ‘ya want, I can be a distraction?” She asks, and then blinks several times rapidly in succession very comically, and you can’t help it but laugh.

“Yeah? And how?” You ask stupidly.

“Ohhhh, remember earlier in the kitchen?”

Your eyes snap to hers. Is she..

"Wait, you’re talking about doing it in the sho-"

She yanks your arms - pulling you forward into a kiss, and your foot slips so hard on the tub floor that you have to catch yourself on her shoulders. Her laughter rings out through the bathroom.

"Oh stars, Y/N falling into my arms? I never thought-"

"Shut uuuuuuuup," You groan, glaring at her. The thought of the two of you, here, fucking in the shower is swirling inside your head. Both of you are wet and pressed together, and you are screaming internally. "You're the one that caught me off guard, asshole."

"Maybe I just wanna see you swooning, for once. Or squirming. I'm not too choosy." The grin on her face mixed with her words has you feeling some kind of way, and you try to still your rapidly beating heart. She wants to see you squirm?! You're flattered, and also embarrassed..

"I don't swoon, Spinel. You know me better than that by now. And if you couldn't make me squirm before all this, when we weren't even friends, then good fucking luck with trying that out now that I'm familiar with you." You spit out, hoping the nervousness in your voice doesn't give you away. She doesn't need to know that you like it when she's a little aggressive and grabby. That would give her too much power.

Her eyes flicker across your face, catching onto something within your expression; her grin widens.

"Then why do you seem so nervous now?"

"Uh," Your heart jumps into your throat, and you feel the red creeping back onto your cheeks. Curse your now-pink complexion. "Pffft. What? I do not! Why the hell do you think I'm nervous!?" You lie, and it comes out of your throat an octave higher you think, which is fucking embarassing really.

"Well," She chuckles briefly, and then her face drops considerably into an expression you'd deem nearly sinister if you didn't know her.

"Um-"

She pushes you back against the shower wall behind you hard - a squeak comes out your mouth - as the air leaves your lungs, her hand splayed out on your chest into holding you there. It feels almost like silence has filled the room, when it's quite the opposite actually - the sound of the water hitting you both is quite deafening as you stare at each other. You think she can feel your heartbeats. Like, her hand is RIGHT THERE. Her thumb even rubs the skin there a little.

"I'm starting to think you like it when I manhandle you." She says, voice low. Her fingers are pressing into your sternum.

You take the time to breathe in some air, and try to blink like a normal person. A droplet of water runs down your lower spine and you fight off a shiver. Are you really that easy to read!?

"Your silence is speaking volumes right now." She chuckles, eyes watching you like a hawk.

You have no idea what your face is displaying, but it's probably something similar to mortified shock - how can she keep hitting the nail on the head?

"Oh, shit, am I hurting you?" She quickly pulls her hands away, nearly looking frantic as her face twists into worry at your silence.

"No, of course not-" You stop, getting a weird look on your face. "-I died, remember? You can't, pfft, - I mean you can, but. Spinel." You try not to laugh, because her being worried about this is extremely endearing, and you love her so, so much. "You're not hurting me, and if you were, I'd make sure you knew."

"Okay, good, because I was really worried there for a second that I had-"

"It's fine." You reassure her, and she's looking at you intently. "Seriously."

"Like, you know that I'd rather poof myself than ever put a finger on 'ya, right?"

"I'm aware, and you know that I trust you, yes?"

"I was 'kinda worried, but, it's clear now." She's so very close to your face, and she's warm. Her eyes take in your features as if she's burning them into her memories, and you can't help but stare back.

She kisses you again, wet lips pressing against yours so easily - it's as if she had been coordinating this as soon as she stepped into the shower with you. Or maybe this was her entire reason. Bastard.

She slides one of her legs between yours - yeah, okay, she was definitely planning this - and you find yourself groaning into her mouth; hot water spraying onto the both of you. You tear your face away from hers momentarily to take in a gasp of breath and she grabs your jaw, her vibrant pink irises locked onto yours.

"Breathe through your nose." She demands, not giving you any kind of opportunity to get away as she kisses you almost roughly. You feel like your entire body is on fire.

Her body's pressed against yours; and at this angle you can see her gemstone shining in the light above you, glistening with water. She slides her knee up to put pressure between your legs, and as to not make it so easy for her you attempt to slam them shut - only making the situation worse for yourself.

You moan as you feel her pressed against your clit, and you feel her grinning against your mouth. She slides her tongue in then, and the combined sensations has your head feeling a little light. It actually irks you enough to attempt to push her off of you to get some kind of leverage over her, but she clearly anticipated some kind of fight because she growls against your mouth in resistance, and uses both her hands to slam yours against the wall behind you with an iron grip.

What a brat.

The harder you struggle, the more she presses all of herself against you. Her grip on your forearms get a little tighter; and you find that this just makes all of your current problems worse. She rips her lips away from yours to give you some kind of smug, shit-eating grin. "You're really trying this time, aren't 'ya doll. I'll give 'ya that."

"Why won't you let me touch you?!" You spit out, but it comes out all breathily and not at all aggressive like you'd hoped.

"If you're good, maybe." She laughs, and you wish you could disappear on the spot at will. "But this is your turn."

"IF I'M-" You hiss out, Spinel switching her grip so she's got the both of your hands in one, making the other completely free to grope your breast. Her palm rubs over your nipple. "You are such a shithead!!"

"You knowwww, if you don't like it you could always tell me you wanna stop," Her eyelids lower enough to still see her irises glued to your face, and she leans in to whisper into your ear. "But we already know that you want this, Y/N."

You snap your mouth shut and she chuckles darkly, and you would like to die now, thanks. If there's a god out there, you hope he's merciful and smites you on the spot.

She immediately attacks your neck, and she doesn't give you any kind of say about it either. She's using so much teeth this time that you're worried you're going to look like a spotted leopard tomorrow, and oh god, you almost forgot.

"Leave any marks and I'll attempt to poof you myself, Spinel." You shudder as she sucks hard near the crook of your neck, hot tongue against your skin, and when she looks at you her eyes have some kind of suspicious glint to them.

"Wear a sweater." Is all she says before going right back to your neck, and the only thing you can really do is bite back a moan as she continues. You're going to kill her for this. You're going to find out how to embarrass her in front of her new friends, or SOMETHING. How the fuck are you going to cover up these marks before your class tomorrow?! The several shades of pink blush you picked up from the drug store a few days ago from your previous shenanigans barely managed to cover the lighter marks she left last time!

You feel her slide a hand down your torso to reach between your legs, and with the last of your strength you try and slam your legs shut just to make this difficult for her.

She chuckles into your neck, and her warm breath lights your nerves on fire. It's so steamy in here now, and some kind of jazz oldie is playing that you can kind of hear over the sound of running water. And then she drops your hands just to grip both of your thighs and spread them apart forcefully, and there's nothing you can really do about that. You know that you're heavily aroused, and you hope it isn't too obvious to her.

Holding you open, she presses her palm against you, tips of her fingers hesitating at your entrance. Like she's waiting for something.. your legs start to tremble, then she slides two fingers into you and you slam a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from moaning.

"No one's going to hear us, 'ya idiot." You hear her say, and you nearly laugh. She immediately curls her fingers upwards, and you're seeing stars at the edges of your vision.

"You think I care about being loud? I just don't want you to think you can drag anything out of me too easily," You say in between breaths, and she makes some kind of displeased grunt in reply.

"Asked for this.." Is what you hear from her before she adds a third finger; you take it quite easily, embarrassingly enough, and starts to really finger fuck you as she watches your face.

A strangled moan comes out of you, and you see the corner of her lip curl enough to show her teeth. You hate that she can do this to you. Your hands are free though, and you think you can fuck with her a little as payback. One of your hands shoot out to touch her gem, and she lowers her eyes to glare at you and the offending appendage.

"Whaddya' think you're 'doin, Y/N?" She asks, lowly. There's a darker pink that bleeds onto her cheeks quite rapidly here, and you swipe a thumb over her center facet in spite.

"Whatever I want." You reply. Her eye twitches.

"I don't think so." She hisses and slams her lips against yours - roughly pushing your hand away from her gem, like how dare you have the audacity to even think about touching her right now. She presses you against the wall with her own body, and you moan into her mouth.

Your thighs are shaking, and the hot steam mixed with the noises of her roughly pounding her slick fingers inside you makes it apparent that you're actually not going to last like this at all. She drags moan after moan from you relentlessly, unable to stop herself from biting down into the crook of your neck like she's trying to claim you for herself. As if you'd let anyone else touch you like this.

And then she lifts up her head enough to warmly whisper something about how much she loves being in the middle of your thighs like this into your ear, and you start to see stars as your orgasm violently wracks through your body.

She holds you, watching your face as you come down, leaving small kisses upon your lips.

"Was that okay?" She mumbles the question, looking at you to make sure you're alright. The water is starting to lose heat, which means both of you should finish this up soon.

"I'm going to make you regret ever taking me as a hostage." You answer with a grin, and her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline.

"Are 'ya sure about that?" She replies, withdrawing her fingers from you ever so slowly.

You think you're in the clear, and then she slides them back in, and you can't cut the gasp that comes out of your mouth. You slam a hand on her shoulder, glaring at your girlfriend.

"I'm sensitive, you jerk." You spit out at her, and she grins cheekily. She then actually pulls out her fingers for real, and you really, really want to make her pay for this. "Let's finish this up, the water is getting colder by the minute."

The both of you quickly finish your bathing routine, and you're almost annoyed that Spinel can just vanish water from her completely while you're still soaking wet, and trying to dry yourself with a towel.

You put on your sleepwear and drag your girlfriend to bed, where you pay her back tenfold. You honestly hope the walls aren’t thin.

You're tired, and sleep comes to you easy with thoughts of what tomorrow will bring.

#spinel x reader #spinel #steven universe #su #spinel steven universe #home #my fic #revised

72 notes · View notes

imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I'm new to this and I don't know if I'm doing this right... Could you write a story about ghost James (not really come back as a ghost in wizard way but more like a ghost in muggle stories, the kind that no one can see and can't really do anything) watching (and maybe staying with) Sirius through the years and finally reunite with him behind the veil? And they live happily ever after in the other side?Thank you!

James hated it when Sirius was sad. It was his number one least favourite thing in the world. It was horrible to see. James was pretty sure that it started to rain specifically because Sirius was in a bad mood, sometimes. His proof of that was that it had never been sunny when Sirius was sad, and that was good enough for him. When Sirius was sad, it's like the whole planet sagged to join him in grief. He'd said that to Remus once, and Remus had replied that James couldn't possibly be more in love if he tried; James was pretty sure that his response to that had been that everyone could stand to be more in love with Sirius.

Point is, Sirius was sad, and it was James's fault. He couldn't make it better, and that was almost worse. There had been times, during first their friendship then their romantic relationship, that he'd made Sirius sad. Some stupid fight or other, and he would make Sirius cry because Sirius hated when they fought. He'd made Sirius sad before, but he'd never been incapable of comforting him afterwards.

He was dead. Sirius couldn't hear him or feel him. It didn't matter what James did, because as far as Sirius was concerned, nothing at all was happening. James could scream in his ear, and Sirius would hear nothing but waves and the distant echoes of the other prisoners. He knew this for a fact; he'd tried. Just in case. No one knew about the kind of ghost that he was, and he wasn't going to let Sirius be miserable just because he hadn't thought to try.

It had taken him a minute to understand what had happened when he appeared by Sirius's side. The details around his death were a bit fuzzy. He couldn't really remember what had happened, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. From the absolutely haunted expression on Sirius's face, it didn't seem like something he'd appreciate remembering.

It took James less than two days to figure out that nothing he did would get through to Sirius. Instead of constantly pestering him, he decided to do things that would make Sirius feel better. He talked. Shared stories even though they were all stories he'd heard before or had been there for.

After a couple weeks, James figured out how to make himself basically solid. It didn't help Sirius it all, but it made James feel better. He could lean his head against Sirius's shoulder without falling straight through him.

On the one hand, it was nice to be able to see Sirius even though he was dead. Spend time with him. On the other hand, he was pretty sure this was a version of hell. What had he done to get placed next to the person he loved most, but completely unable to communicate with him? He didn't know how he really felt about it. Twelve years of thinking about it, and he still didn't know.

James talked to hear his own voice. It's not like Sirius could hear him and feel better to know that he wasn't entirely alone.

Sometimes he felt like Sirius could hear him. Not as he was-- standing beside him-- but like a whisper to his conscience. An errant thought in his head that took purchase. It was wishful thinking, James knew that, but it made his existence feel important. Sirius didn't lay flat to stretch his legs because James said he should; he did it because he'd been curled up in a ball for so long that he was uncomfortable.

It still made James feel better.

"Er, Sirius? Is it just me, or does that look like Peter?" James asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the photo in the Prophet. Fudge wasn't holding it at the best angle for Sirius, but Sirius was smart; he saw it. He asked for the paper, and Fudge handed it right over.

James grinned at Sirius. "That's my Padfoot. Let's get out of this hellhole. It was putting you in a worse mood than normal." Not that there was any good measure for that. It had been so long since Sirius had been in a normal place that James only had memories for what it was like to see him smile. When the minister visited, the Dementors had to stay back a certain amount; it's why Sirius made conversation instead of telling him to bugger off, but it didn't exactly make him happy. He was just... less miserable.

If anyone could see James right now, they'd probably say that since he wasn't happy with what he was doing, he should stop. That was a load of bullocks. He was dead, what did it matter if he wasn't completely happy? His happiness was a non-issue. He had an entire afterlife that he could enjoy when Sirius was around to enjoy it with him. For now, it was more important to him that he keep an eye on Sirius. Even if he couldn't effect the world around him at all, he liked knowing what was going on.

There was a paralyzing fear in the back of his mind that if he left now, he'd never be able to find Sirius again.

"No no no," James said frantically, staring at where Peter transformed and ran away. He tried tugging on Sirius's arm, but obviously he couldn't feel it. "Sirius, he's getting away!"

But Sirius was more focused on making sure that Moony was okay and that the kids weren't going to get hurt-- or killed-- to worry about the way his own future was going.

It had run away. Peter was slippery. It was a miracle that they'd found him the first time, and James was certain that they wouldn't be able to find him a second time. In another life, James would be able to feel something like sympathy for him. In this life-- his afterlife, Sirius's first still-- he couldn't manage it. James had been beside Sirius for nearly every second of Azkaban, and there was no forgiving someone who put you in there.

Peter vanished, less than a speck in a dark night on a black ground, and James wanted to scream. So he did.

"This cave is depressing. I feel like you could find a better hiding spot."

Sirius glanced towards where the castle was, and James nodded.

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't be this close to Harry anywhere else. I still think it's pretty damn risky. You should be on the beach. Soaking up the sun after so many years in Azkaban. I swear, that place is better classified as a dungeon. You could lay on the sand. Get some shades. Listen to your bloody muggle music and just breathe for once."

Sirius wrung his hands in the way that meant he was thinking about Harry. Worrying about him. Even if he went to the beach, he wouldn't be able to relax. He'd be there, wondering how Harry was doing. Wishing he could take him away but unable to do so. Sirius could make his way on his own in large part because he could turn into Padfoot, but Harry couldn't do that. A boy with a dog drew more attention than just a dog, not to mention that no one would just let Harry go missing.

Lily showed up once. James just about jumped out of his skin when she appeared on Sirius's other side at the long dining table in Grimmauld Place. "So this is where Sirius grew up," she mused, looking around at the décor. "Sort of explains why he was such a pretentious git when we were kids."

James stared at her for a long moment. "How are you here?"

"I don't really know," she said, frowning. "I thought about you, wondering where you were and." She held up her hands in a ta-da sort of way. "I should've guessed it was with Sirius."

"Are you going to stay?" he asked.

"I don't think I can. I'm here to visit. I visited Harry for a while, but I got... kicked away after a couple days. It's the longest I can stay before I have to take a break. I have no idea how you've managed to do this for the entire time."

"I haven't done anything," James argued. "I just woke up next to Sirius and never left."

"You woke up next to him?" Lily asked, eyebrows raised.

"Appeared next to him, whatever."

"No, that's not what I- Merlin, James. I always knew that you and Sirius were strangely close; I just didn't realise... well. Never mind. How's it been?" she asked, turning her attention to the man sat between them that couldn't hear a single word that was being said.

"Rough. He was in Azkaban for a murder he didn't commit, and now he's a fugitive because he broke out."

"He broke out? Of Azkaban? How the bloody hell did he do that?"

"That's a Marauder trade secret, Lils. Can't tell."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're so full of shite."

"Yep."

She glanced at Sirius again, and her expression softened to something sympathetic. "It's been that bad?"

"Yeah." James sighed, patting Sirius on the shoulder even though he couldn't feel it. "Yeah, it's been... not good."

Sirius got hit with a spell, and he was falling, and James knew that it wouldn't do any good but still tried to catch him.

Only it worked. Sirius landed in his arms, a heavy, warm weight. Sirius was as surprised by it as James. He tilted his head up and broke into a gut-wrenching smile. Equal parts sad and hopeful. "James?"

James mirrored the expression. He'd wanted Sirius. Not like this, though. Sirius was supposed to get his name cleared and live with Harry. He was supposed to have another seventy years alive so that he could remember what it was like to not be caged up. He wasn't supposed to meet James this soon. James even knew how he wanted for it to happen. Sirius was supposed to be free and happy, and then James would move on; Sirius wouldn't need him watching anymore because he'd be fine, and he could catch up with Lily-- see if she knew anything about this whole being-dead thing. "Hullo love."

It took Sirius a long time to stop marveling at the fact that he could now touch James and talk to him. In his own way, James was doing the same thing. He'd gotten so used to Sirius not being able to hear anything he said that he was pretty sure he hadn't shut up for the last twenty minutes, just so he could hear Sirius hum or say 'yeah' as he talked.

"How do you know all of that?" Sirius interrupted at some point. James had sort of been ranting at him for staying in Azkaban for so long, and then going to Grimmauld Place afterwards. Historically, those were the worst two places in Britain.

"I was with you."

"You mean, like, watching me?" Sirius asked, tilting his head slightly as he tried to wrap his head around it.

"No, I mean that I was with you. Since your first week in Azkaban."

"You... the whole time?" Sirius asked, voice breaking.

"Yeah," James said, giving him a small smile. "I couldn't leave you alone, Sirius. You were sad. I can't leave my Padfoot alone when he's sad."

Sirius pulled him in for another hug even though they'd never really let go of each other, clenching so tightly that James wouldn't have been able to get away even if he wanted to-- and he didn't. He could stay this way forever.

#prongsfoot #fanfic #marauders #james potter #sirius black #lily evans #established relationship #afterlife #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

38 notes · View notes

tysukis · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, first(?) AU anon here. I will absolutely dive down this rabbit hole with you. I went a little overboard (sorry?). I absolutely agree with you on your Zuko take. I think we all kind of land there naturally. But I also think that Zuko would latch onto stability the moment he realized he had it. So this is kind of how I see it going down:

I think the band Sokka is part of would be solid. Just a local hit, right? But Sokka is the plans guy, and the aspirations guy, and they can do *so much better*. I 100% do not know how real life musicians work so add a pinch of salt here, but he would absolutely land them a gig as openers to a mediocre niche headliner just by sheer power of phone calls and charm. (He scripted it as much as possible, we all remember how that canon speech went when he winged it, but he knows how to put words together when he has time).

And yeah I love the idea of Zuko being an academic. I'm assuming Ozai is out of the picture for this, and the boy gets to pursue his passions instead of an expectation. Unfortunately, you mix in passion and the general anxiety of a kid who lived under intense scrutiny and you get an adult who gets tunnel vision during spring finals/prep for a conference/etc. So he doesn't quite rise to the occasion when his boyfriend drops this life changing news, he's proud but distracted, and he's already so bad at words in comparison to Sokka that it's just. Lackluster. And he probably meant to meet them at the bar/house party to celebrate after he got home but he's sleep deprived and his phone is dead because he's a disaster sometimes.

So now you've got Sokka stewing on immediate events, and being a little heartbroken because he went all out every time Zuko accomplished *anything*, even if it wasn't super impressive to Zuko himself. And maybe there's a bit of Zuko assuming Sokka doesn't need that reciprocated. He just doesn't vocalize his important needs, so Zuko assumes they're being met, you know? I like the drama of a blown up confrontation but also the idea that Sokka just confronts him sounding hurt and so damn tired of being the emotional one for that long.

But on the other side you have Zuko with his internalized plan that this is his forever person, and he does go to almost every performance even if they don't play his preferred music. And he assumes Sokka is satisfied with this. Maybe because Zuko can't imagine being happier than near his family - the good ones anyway - or because he genuinely thinks Sokka and the band are happy with being local celebrities and leaving it at that. So he plans for permanence. Because he is still a disaster, Zuko probably never vocalized this beyond doing window shopping for apartments or something. Vague jokes about a wedding that Sokka laughs at/agrees with and Zuko interprets as, "Yes I am also thinking about being here with you forever." He's not the wordsmith, he's the pragmatist and love means house shopping and snuggling over takeout and planning trips to visit their distant family together, right? Sokka's confrontation blindsided him, because he thought they were on the same page, and Sokka didn't have to leave to keep playing music, why is that even a thing??

They're both justified in being jaded because they're dumb as hell (affectionate). This isn't an AU for two grown ass men who have put in therapy time, they're both young and full of their own understanding with poor communication skills.

musician au anon!!! hello welcome back thank you so much for this incredible ask, let’s GO

(I’m gonna pop this one under a read more because otherwise this post will be eight miles long lmao)

Honestly I’m wracking my brain with what I can possibly add to this because you’ve got like. A fully fledged outline here my dude and it’s a good one. Do you write? Because you should, if you don’t. I still love the alternative take of Sokka being the one to leave and honestly this pretty much cements how much potential it has. I absolutely adore how you’ve thought about just how the communication would break down between them - and you’re completely bang on the money with it as well. Zuko is fully a hot disaster and would completely just assume Sokka’s needs are being met if he isn’t vocalising them, and we know Sokka, he’s a complainer but when it really comes down to those he loves - he’s known for being pretty selfless and for putting up brave faces. I can totally see Sokka perhaps almost feeling a bit self conscious about how hurt he is by Zuko’s lack of enthusiasm. Because Zuko loves him, right? And it’s just one show, right? So maybe he’s just overreacting, right? Or maybe he’s actually not even that good. Oh no, maybe Zuko hates his music and is just waiting for the right time to break it to him gently. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I think I might have already said it at some point tonight but Sokka would absolutely spiral until he convinces himself that him leaving would be nothing more than simply just leaving before he gets left. And like you said: Zuko is out here planning a whole future assuming that they’re on the same page, meanwhile he has no idea.

I totally buy Sokka winging his way into a supporting act spot using his charm and charisma, and yeah his speech in canon didn’t go too well but this could likely be over the phone to only one person which would probably make it easier. I was thinking about how Sokka performing would work in conjuncture with his canon almost stage fright/fear of public speaking - and I’m leaning towards the hc that he embodies a sort of persona in front of large crowds and he’s able to let that take over and act casually and confidently no matter the audience. (source: I am someone who studied acting and excelled in public speaking most of her life despite having a chronic anxiety disorder - playing parts and speaking on stage didn’t feel like ‘me’ because I was always channeling a character either fictional or an alternative version of myself. It works, folks.)

Are we thinking he broke away from the band and went on to succeed in a solo career? As in, he felt being local heroes was a limited pathway? Or did they all go together? Who else would be in it I wonder.

I LOVE your interpretation of Zuko and how the factors under which he was raised would shape him, especially in a modern setting. He would absolutely go into tunnel vision and that perfectionist mindset he was essentially forced into as a kid would probably be alive and well into adulthood. (And yeah, these aren’t men who have been to therapy - yet! - so we’re probably gonna assume that Zuko views this as a Perfectly Normal And Healthy Way To Live And Not At All A Trauma/Survival Response.)

I’m assuming this confrontation is what leads to their break up and then Sokka going off to pursue music further? I wonder, even all their other issues aside, what Zuko thinks about him travelling so far? As you said, we’re operating under the assumption that he doesn’t understand why Sokka couldn’t continue music and stay local. Even if things were perfect between the two, I imagine they still might not see eye to eye on that, which of course would just be another breaking point for them to tack onto the list.

As for their eventual reconciliation, Kaleigh @zukkau with her gigantic brain, said earlier that Sokka being the one to leave could also tie into a whole ‘I couldn’t ask you to uproot your whole life for me’ anxiety (especially if we’re painting zuko as a bit of a homebody here; hates change, likes routine) and that sets up perfectly for a “I would go anywhere for/with you” moment. All this to say that I think that would slot into this (^) narrative nicely.

If you have (or anyone has) anything more to add or touch on I would absolutely love to hear it, I am now fully in love with this AU and all messages and mentions of it are permanently welcome in my inbox and DMs <3

#I love this au so much. so much.#all of u with ur big brains #amazing #answered #musician au

11 notes · View notes

axther · 5 years ago

Note

Heyo! i reread your rules and i was wondering if i could request a little something? maybe Hatsume(if you write for her, if not it’s okay!) and Jirou with a Support Course s/o? i thought the idea was really cute^^ Thanks for your time! -LesBean Anon

the return of the queen

Hatsume

Teamwork made the dream work, or so they say.

Hatsume knew otherwise. For as long as she could remember, she always worked by herself. She was fully capable of getting her designs written so they would satisfy her customers and be sent to the people who made it. But then Hatsume realised; someone had to make her babies.

So, she decided, she would watch them make it. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t trust them.

Across the campus, there was a workshop for the kids with quirks that were meant for support and making support items. It was legendary in that none of the creators let anyone else in the Support Course in, much less so the General and Hero Courses. They were insanely protective over what they made, and it was bad enough that even teachers avoided the workshop.

But Hatsume feared no man, not for her babies.

The sky was beginning to go orange when Hatsume started strutting to the workshop. Steam and smoke clouded the air around it, but she could see cluttered pieces of metal around the ground. She even recognised a few scrapped versions of her jet back and hydraulic bracers. Several students passed by as she took in the sight, whispering to each other.

“No way,” One of the muttered, someone with a clear dog quirk. “They’re not gonna let her in.”

“Did you hear? Vlad King tried to go in to get one of his students, and they ganged up on him and literally kicked him out.” The other, with a head shaped like a baseball, tittered back.

“Yikes.”

Hatsume huffed. There was no way that someone was going to get between her and her babies.

She shoved open the door and realised quite suddenly that there was no smoke or steam inside the building. Somehow, it was all condensed to outside, and Hatsume couldn’t help but feel curious.

There was the distant banging of metal on metal, but it was the only sound besides the humming of machinery and coolers.

And it was clearly the sound of the only person there.

Hatsume walked down the hall, eyeing shut and locked doors with interest before seeing a large one, like a factory entrance, open. Golden-orange light spilt out, and she peeked in.

The inside was enormous, with a forge as the centrepiece and different sized water tanks all around it. There was a large anvil, but the best part was the funnel that was filled with molten metal. It was bright orange and lowered so it would be poured into a mould.

But best of all was the gorgeous creature pouring it.

She was tall, much taller than Hatsume. She lifted her arm to strike down onto the mould, and her arms showed muscles that would’ve made moderate bodybuilders cry. She fit what hair she could into a cap, and when she turned to take a drink of water, literal steam hissed and left her mouth.

And speaking of mouths, Hatsume had to clamp her’s shut.

The sound made the girl stop her drinking and turn, a mouth full of water before she let it out as steam through her nose. Hatsume blinked.

“Who’re you?” The girl murmured, and Hatsume quickly realised that the girl was almost rearing up, and also had a massive hammer in her hand. “What do you want?”

“I’m Hatsume Mei!” She spat out as quickly and confidently as possible. She didn’t notice the girl begin to relax but continued babbling. “I make support items, and I wanted to see who makes them, and wow, you have really nice proportions and do you think that maybe sometime you could model for me? You’re about the size of a full-grown adult and it’d be nice for me to have a person to work with for future reference, oh, and I know that I’m bursting in on your place, but I just wanted to see my babies and the place where they’re made and I was wondering if you knew who made them, it looks like here isn’t where there’s a lot of precision work, so if you could just point me in the direction-”

Before Hatsume could finish her rant, a handful of papers were shoved into her face. Hatsume recoiled but realised several things at once. One, the girl’s hands were scarred and absolutely fantastic, and two, the girl was holding Hatsume’s own designs for her Auto Balancers.

“Hatsume Mei. 1-H, right?”

“You’re…?” Hatsume, for once, was shocked silent.

“I’ve worked on all of your creations that you sent in through here.”

“What? All of them? In a forge?” Hatsume could feel euphoria beginning to bubble within her. “How?”

“I always took the projects until they just decided to hand them all off to me. I might not look it, but precision work is my thing.” The girl remained cool and collected while Hatsume began jumping up and down.

“No way! You assembled all of my babies?!”

The girl said nothing, but smiled and turned back around.

“Then the High-Density Weights?! Are they here?”

The girl pointed a hand at a nearby table before taking the cooled metal and throwing it into a nearby shute in the wall. She tugged the funnel back down and started pouring again.

“These are perfect!” She held the weights up, and she nearly dropped them. “You really are the best!”

The girl smiled. “Thanks.“

“And what are you working on now?”

“The Auto Balancers. Since they need to be able to detect whether or not a fall is intentional, I need to hand-make the springs. But right now, I’m getting the panels done.”

“Ahh.” Hatsume hummed. “I could marry you.”

The girl hesitated, for just a moment, before going back to the panels. “Thanks.”

“Actually, you could say we are! We’re my babies moms! Our babies!”

“Sure,” The girl giggled. “And do you know your wife’s name?”

Hatsume stopped staring dreamily at the girl’s back and stiffened. “No.”

“Y/N L/N. Or Hatsume Y/N. Or are you L/N Mei?” Y/N said, a teasing smirk on her face.

Hatsume went right back to snuggling into the chair she was in and ogling at her new wife. “I can be whatever you want.”

“Oh? Then you can stay here until I’m done and go with me to that cafe that just opened, right?”

“Oh?” Hatsume felt a blush crawl up her face. “Well, I did promise.”

“Don’t worry.” Y/n winked at Hatsume, who was ready to melt. “I’ll pay.”

Hatsume knew, then; teamwork definitely made the dream work.

Jirou

Jirou Kyoka had hobbies.

One of those hobbies was music. Another was talking to her classmates. But her favourite was watching her girlfriend.

This could be considered at nothing unusual. But seeing as her girlfriend was the number one producer of Support items in the Support Course, it meant that Jirou would be sitting inside a boiling hot room with steam all around and the constant banging of a hammer onto an anvil. Most people wouldn’t be able to bear it, and would just wait after school.

But Jirou found a certain beauty in it. And in her girlfriend’s back.

If there was one thing that Jirou had to be proud of about her girlfriend’s body, it was definitely her back. It reminded her over a swimmer’s back, fluid but definitely there. But she loved her girlfriend anyway and liked keeping her company while she finished with her projects.

Which was why Jirou sat in the Support Course’s workshop at four in the afternoon, letting her day waste away in favour of watching her girlfriend.

The sun seeped through the window, and there were some birds singing outside. Somewhere in the halls of the workshop distant music played, and there was a strange sense of peace over Jirou. She watched as Y/N murmured over a stack of designs, a finger on her chin and lost in thought. A classmate of hers, a young woman with her dreadlocks in a ponytail and green at the tips, knocked at the huge sliding doors.

“Hey, L/N, I’m heading out. Make sure to close up. Night, Jirou.” The woman waved at Jirou, who said ‘night’ right back, but all Y/N did was wave a distracted hand. She was clearly occupied, so the young woman simply left the doors cracked and walked away. Jirou turned back to her girlfriend and tried to find something to do, but slowly, the heat and setting sun and the sound of cicadas outside began lulling her to sleep. Her head slipped once, twice, and then there was nothing.

——

When Jirou woke up, she was staring at the sky.

She wasn’t walking, but felt an insurmountable warmth, like a heated blanket. She looked down and saw her legs, and then a dull orange glow. Jirou blinked once, before looking a bit further up.

Y/N was carrying her, her head high with vigilance and a look of stern concentration. Her girlfriend’s heart was literally glowing like molten lava, and some of the veins in her arms were molten, too. The whole of her hands was orange but pleasantly warm. She wondered for a second why Y/N would have to activate her quirk, before realising that they both were soaking wet.

“What happened?” Jirou murmured sleepily, before sighing and nuzzling into Y/N’s chest.

“Stayed late. It started raining, and you were asleep, so I figured that I would carry you and make a run for your dorm.”

“Hmm. Iida wouldn’t let you in.”

“He has, before. Only when you’re with me, though.”

“Hmm. Why’re you warming me up?”

“The rain would’ve woken you up.” Y/N looked down with a soft smile. “You were cute, so I wanted to keep you warm.”

Jirou smiled. “You dork.”

“Yes.” Y/N sighed. “I’m your dork, though.”

Jirou yawned, taking a deep sigh and feeling sleepy again.

“Take another nap. When we get in, I’ll need your keys, but that’s all.”

“Okay, babe.” Suddenly, Jirou snapped awake. “The movie! Our date!”

“It’s okay, Kyo.” Y/N finally looked down to nuzzle Jirou, and she couldn’t help but blush. “We could both use a nap. We can always catch another movie.”

Y/N placed a small kiss on Jirou’s forehead, and slowly but surely, she was welcomed into the arms of sleep again.

(Later that night, Iida would be making his rounds only to find Jirou’s door cracked open. He opened it slightly, but quietly shut it again after seeing Jirou and her lover sleeping, with Jirou laying over Y/N’s molten heart.)

#requests #I lovem y girls so mu ch #jirou kyoka #bnha x reader #mei hatsume #mei hatsume x reader #my hero academia x reader #jirou kyoka x reader #sailor lesbean

51 notes · View notes

grapefruitsketches · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 8, Memory

Final part of my Songxiao post-canon fix-it fic series, started under the Untamed Spring Fest 2020 event:

Please see the reblogged version of this under the my-writing and songxiao-fix-it-series tags on my blog - will be a pinned post for the next little while - for links to previous chapters/the Ao3 version!

4,134 Words

“Remember your assignment, Xiao-daozhang!” Wen Qionglin said good-naturedly, although Song Lan knew that undertone well, the one that softly implied an or else if the kindly reminder wasn’t heeded.

And with a soft nod from Xingchen, and the requisite farewell bows, Wen Qionglin had gone.

The farm was quiet.

For the first time since Xingchen had awoken in Cloud Recesses, the two were truly alone.

It had been Wei Wuxian’s idea.

“You know,” he had said, chewing thoughtfully on a particularly tough piece of pork, “Lan Zhan tells me that your guqin playing has gotten pretty good, Song-daozhang. Right, Lan Zhan?”

Hanguang-Jun, apparently long resigned to his husband’s insistence on starting conversations not only during meal times, but mid-bite, nodded.

“I wonder if… now that you don’t usually even need an interpreter… if you two might want some… alone time?”

To Song Lan’s relief, Xingchen (having completely missed the combination of Wei Wuxian’s suggestive eyebrow raise and Hanguang-Jun’s silent mouthing of Wei Ying!, and the sudden flush Song Lan could feel rushing to his face) was able to, quite innocently, consider the idea, “Hmm… I mean, if you two don’t mind us being here alone, then it might be nice… I mean… it might be good to test how well this works, just the two of us… if we are to… to travel alone again.” Xingchen’s voice faded out, and Song Lan felt his heart quicken. They had not yet discussed what might follow their time at the farm. For months, it had seemed enough to imagine that where they were might as well have been where they always were, where they would forever be, even though both knew there had been a beginning and so there would be an end.

But now… Xingchen’s mental state had seemed to be improving steadily as of late. There were still nightmares, still outbursts. But they were more controlled. Xingchen seemed to be getting more comfortable with the idea that these emotions would rise from time to time, and, at least out loud, did not chastise himself so much for them.

“What do you think, Zichen?” and with this offer of a future, of a something that came next, of a return to something that looked like the normal of his life twenty years ago, of course, Song Lan caught the other’s hand and squeezed a quick, enthusiastic, Yes.

And so, after seeking Wen Qionglin’s approval of the suggestion, the date was set for the cessation of Wen Qionglin, Wei Wuxian, and Hanguang-Jun’s rotating visits. Letters were sent to the Juniors, who were liable to pop by at a moment’s notice, that the farm would be off limits until and unless Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen decided otherwise.

It would be just the peace and quiet that the two had wanted, had deserved, for so long. Just the right way to ease back into the peace and quiet on the road that so clearly characterized Song Lan’s favourite memories - the two of them alone, side by side.

Or so Song Lan had thought.

Barely five weeks in, he began to feel restless. He and Xingchen went about the daily chores, took boat rides, had picnics, cooked, cleaned, took walks, explored. But the farm was starting to feel exceptionally small without the ever-rotating collection of friends (did Song Lan dare acknowledge them as family?) to distract from the sameness of the scenery, the sameness of the limited range of activities. Fuxue seemed to whine at his back, Shuanghua humming comfortingly, but Song Lan felt that it too wondered, why, now that they were not held here by obligations to friends and family, they were not pursuing far more important matters.

But it was also Shuanghua that brought echoing words of Wen Qionglin back to Song Lan, words that reminded him that there was still work to be done. Here. Now. Work that needed this quiet alone time to work itself out.

Why does Song-daozhang still carry Shuanghua for you?

Remember your assignment!

Song Lan wondered what that assignment might be, but never dared intervene or ask about Xingchen’s solo sessions with Wen Qionglin. It had hurt at first, to be suddenly excluded from the meetings, but he had soon recalled what his early sessions had been like, and flinched at the thought of Xingchen being there. He had been grateful even then that he had been using sign language at the time. He didn’t even have to worry about Xingchen overhearing anything in a moment of lucidity from the spirit pouch that had never left his side.

If Wen Qionglin had taken the time to remind Xingchen of the assignment as he left, it must have been important. He was sure Xingchen had not forgotten, but knowing Wen Qionglin, it wouldn’t be anything easy.

It was clear Xingchen was working hard on his recovery. Song Lan did not think Xingchen realized how light a sleeper he was now, but every morning Song Lan watched, as Xingchen reached for the blade. He saw that, every morning, he flinched away. A full arm’s length still between his fingers and Shuanghua. He watched how Xingchen steadied himself before standing back up, seeming to conclude that today, again, was not the day. Xingchen would sigh, unconsciously letting his fingers brush the raised scar, the only spot on Xingchen that Song Lan tried to avoid looking at, before lying back in bed.

Xingchen would then let a hand drift over to Song Lan - maybe to his hair, his waist, his arm - before apparently falling asleep so the two of them would seem to wake up together just a little later (Song Lan always making a show of stretching not long after this morning ritual, Xingchen mirroring with a sleepy yawn, both doing their best so that the other didn’t realize they had been awake for quite some time by then).

But Shuanghua was not the assignment. At least, Song Lan didn’t think so. Instead, the hints came at the quietest of moments. While the soup bubbled. While they dozed in the sun on a nearby hill. When Song Lan stopped rowing for a while and let the stream carry them lazily downriver. Xingchen would sit up, maybe open his mouth, maybe raise an arm to meet Song Lan’s. Sometimes, he would even seem to start to say the words, “Zichen, I…” or “I need to…” before pivoting suddenly to something wildly different than his tone had originally implied, “…am hungry. Let’s go make dinner” or “…tell you this terrible joke Wei-gongzi told me.”

Song Lan’s heart ached for him. He was clearly trying, so hard. Xingchen was tired. His face drawn, strength returning but fortitude slipping. And there was nothing Song Lan could do except to play, over and over again, the chords, I’m listening.

It had been three months that they had spent alone at the farm. Xingchen knew he was running out of excuses. And while the excuses ran out, and his ability to resist weakened, the pressure within him mounted. There were nights where he couldn’t sleep, torn between his desire to just let go, and his fear of turning out to be too much for Zichen after all. He knew Zichen wouldn’t leave, but in a way, that made it worse.

But the peaceful days went on. And Zichen seemed only to get sadder. The notes of the guqin not intrusive, but still imploring.

I need to tell him. But I can’t. He had said.

You want to tell him. And you can. Wen Qionglin had corrected.

But what if he does not want to know? Xingchen had asked.

What would you want him to hide from you?

And even though it had taken months, and the pressure building to near unbearable levels, for Xingchen to realize, he finally understood that Wen Qionglin was, as always, right.

“Zichen… I need to… no, I want to… talk to you about, about Yi City.”

The words had come out of him in a rush. Xingchen honestly couldn’t believe he had finally said it. But there the words hung, heavy. Finally escaped from his lungs, his heart, unretractable.

A long, unbearable silence followed, and Xingchen heard the sound of urgent shuffling, the guqin being dragged closer to Zichen. The instrument had apparently been left with wheelbarrow as they dug up fresh potatoes. Xingchen heard a faint clapping sound, Zichen ever unwilling to let a speck of dirt touch the smooth surface of the instrument.

And the chords which finally came, ones so familiar, so commonplace, brought tears to Xingchen’s eyes when he heard them answer. I’m listening. But this time, they were followed by something more. No matter what.

And so Xingchen began.

Song Lan had known, or at least suspected, most of this.

He remembered vividly the way Xingchen had laughed when Xue Yang had teased him, had seen the quiet little home those three had shared. He also had heard directly from the now, thankfully, dead man what brutal manipulations had been imposed on Xingchen. And Song Lan knew only too well, though most of his other memories as Xue Yang’s puppet were dull and distant, what revelation had been Xingchen’s breaking point, remembered this moment clearly. Song Lan had internally screamed out, realizing only then that there would never be a way for him to break out of the control the needles in his neck imposed. Because if Xingchen’s grief torn face, his gut-wrenching scream wouldn’t let him do anything more than turn his head just ever so slightly towards his beloved, nothing would.

But he listened. Of course he listened. And Xingchen clearly needed to speak. He tensed, but was not surprised at the guilt Xingchen carried, at the I should’ve knowns, all the I’m sorrys, every if only I hads. Each one a punch to Song Lan’s gut, hearing the weight Xingchen had been carrying, but bearable in that Xingchen was clearly letting off some of the pressure that Song Lan had watched Xingchen undeservingly endure since he had awoken. Had felt this man turn on himself even as far back as when he first felt the squirms of a reassembling soul in the pouch he had carried.

A hand on his thigh, “Zichen.”

Song Lan looked up, startled out of the trance Xingchen’s words had put him under. He realized Xingchen had been silent for a few moments, waiting anxiously for Song Lan’s response.

Song Lan reached for the hand, carefully slotting his fingers between Xingchen’s and holding tight. Xingchen smiled, a smile which finally seemed to light up his face the way it should. And something, a pressure Song Lan hadn’t noticed until now, burst inside him as well. Tears flowed freely from his - from Xingchen’s - eyes.

Song Lan thought of the young girl Xingchen had described, that he himself had met so briefly. He thought of Xingchen’s soft smiles at the younger visiting cultivators, and Song Lan wondered, as Xingchen must have, how A-Qing would have gotten along with them if she had truly had the chance.

He thought of loneliness and grief, how they could each inspire such compassion, such horror, or both. He thought of life, death, renewal. Baoshan Sanren, Yi City, Baixue Temple.

He thought of all the ridiculous thoughts that had crossed his mind over the long twenty years they had spent apart. That Xingchen must hate him. That Xingchen must blame him. That what had happened to Xingchen was his fault. He had fought these thoughts for years. Wen Qionglin supporting him, then Hanguang-Jun, now Xingchen. But until now, until hearing the same thoughts mirrored in Xingchen’s voice: that Xingchen, Xingchen thought he could ever be hated? That Song Lan could ever truly think any of this was Xingchen’s fault? Only now did Song Lan truly understand how ridiculous he must have sounded, similarly taking on all the blame.

Wen Qionglin had had regrets. Hanguang-Jun had had regrets. Each of them had demonstrated to Song Lan that your darkest moments, your biggest mistakes, your worst actions, did not have to define you. They had shown him that forgiving yourself could sometimes be a selfless act. If absolving himself for actions he’d taken under another’s control, if acknowledging his own growth past lashing out at Baixue Temple, could present the possibility to Xingchen that he could forgive himself? If Song Lan telling himself that no matter what he had done - willingly at Baixue Temple, unwillingly as a puppet - he was still worthy of living a life with the ones he cared for and who cared for him, if that made it any more likely that Xingchen understood that he deserved at least the same? Then suddenly any further moral quandry dissipated.

But he had to say something. He reached for his guqin, wondering just how to explain this to his partner. Instead, what came out was a question that had haunted him since the moment Shuanghua had pierced his chest.

I have sometimes thought… what if I hadn’t found you? Would you be happier? If you had never known… who he was?

He braced himself for these notes to fall heavily on their mood, for Xingchen to freeze, withdraw, think that Song Lan wasn’t as easy a confidante as he’d thought.

“No.” That was all Xingchen said. A simple word, and a gentle laugh.

So Song Lan was instead the one who froze, surprised. After a few moments, Xingchen heard the volumes Song Lan’s stillness spoke.

Xingchen sighed, “The truth is important. I still missed you all those years apart, even if there were others, trustworthy or no, with whom I could temporarily relieve that feeling once in a while.” Xingchen leaned a cheek on his hand, tapping it thoughtfully, “I don’t even know for sure if I didn’t suspect even then that something was wrong with the man who turned out to be… to be Xue Yang…” Xingchen raced through the end of the sentence, the name hard to say even now, “I just didn’t realize… no, never mind.”

Please. Simple, not forceful. Enough.

Xingchen smiled weakly, “I know now this wouldn’t excuse anything, and it’s still a pretty silly conclusion to come to but… I suppose I just didn’t realize, didn’t even consider, that if this person wasn’t to be trusted, that if he was by my side, that he could still hurt people that weren’t ah… you know.”

That he could hurt people who weren’t you. Song Lan understood, and didn’t need to hear Xingchen say so, or guess the end of the sentence through the guqin to confirm. An easy temptation, to think that saving others could be as simple as sacrificing oneself. It was one they had each fallen into at some point, but one that, hopefully, they were finally learning to leave behind.

Xingchen rested a hand on Song Lan’s shoulder, inviting, warm. And Song Lan responded in kind, pulling Xingchen close. There would be no more gardening today.

The sun went down over fields that had only recently seemed so confining. The fields now seemed almost endless, comforting in their depth. The two cultivators lay side by side, enjoying the shade as they leaned against the trunk of an ancient tree. The warm pinks and oranges painted across the sky reminded Song Lan of the campfires the two of them had fallen asleep next to on so many nights, back when they were still dancing around the now obvious fact that they wanted to remain at each other’s sides for as long as they were able.

Song Lan absent-mindedly strummed the guqin, describing for Xingchen the swirls of fading light, the way the last bursts of sunbeams painted the leaves of the peach grove below them. He had been thinking of new ways to adapt some of his poetry into this auditory language, and realized with a smile he might just be getting it. He looked down at Xingchen, who was resting his head on Song Lan’s shoulder, breathing slowly, evenly. Xingchen shifted, the delicate features settling into a faint smile. Song Lan’s smile reflected Xingchen’s without a thought. There was no contest between the sunset and Xingchen’s peaceful expression. Song Lan knew from experience that not even thousands of sunsets could match the latter.

“Song Zichen,” Xingchen said, the use of his full name taking Song Lan aback for a moment, but his tone was still drowsy, if sombre, “I need you to know that I will never put you through anything like that ever again. I cannot change the past but I cannot, will not cause any more suffering. Not on anyone, but not on you especially.”

Song Lan’s answer came through powerfully, louder chords than those he had been playing until now coming through naturally, an effortless translation of his own feelings on the matter, And I need you to know that if you do, I will be there to help you fix it. Because I cannot allow suffering for you any more than you can for me.

“Zichen, Zichen. Always one upping me with your words,” Xingchen laughed, losing the serious tone he had held moments before, “Just you wait until I can spar again. Then we will truly have some justice.” Xingchen yawned and snuggled closer into Zichen’s side. Song Lan returned to his softer, melodic descriptions of the landscape. Xingchen fell quickly into a gentle sleep, one that Song Lan hoped to be a well-deserved deep and peaceful one.

Song Lan blinked his eyes open, the pale light confusing until he realized - it was the sunrise. Xingchen’s arms were wrapped around him, the other man sleeping later than Song Lan for the first time in a long while. Song Lan had no intention of moving, of risking rousing him, and in the moment, failed to see the problem with staying here forever.

Something tugged at his mind, though, a feeling that he was missing something important, something obvious. Not quite as urgent as the feelings he often had on the battlefield, those ones which had saved his, and sometimes Xingchen’s, life on more than one occasion, but something important nonetheless.

He blinked lazily, doing a quick sweep of the surroundings.

The garden tools still rested in the wheelbarrow, the remains of their late lunch turned dinner packed neatly in the basket nearby. The fields were empty. Fuxue rested on his back.

That was it. Fuxue.

Or rather, Fuxue’s near constant companion.

Having sat by the tree with the initial intention that it would only be a quick break, Song Lan had not bothered to remove the swords from his back. And now Song Lan realized that at some point in the night, as Xingchen’s arms had snaked around Song Lan’s waist, as Xingchen had pulled him closer, a hand must have landed inadvertently on a certain blade.

And though the sword was still sheathed, though the hand was nowhere near the handle on which it belonged, Song Lan thought he heard, clear as the early morning birds taking stock of their nesting grounds, Shuanghua sing.

And so the days passed, boredom slipped away as they found each other again, easily, even if slowly, now that the final walls had fallen between them. The nightmares became rarer, and the past more historical fact than vengeful ghost.

They were sitting on the edge of the bed, side by side, contemplating the same spot near the corner of the room.

“I think I will this time,” Xingchen said, smiling, sure, not needing Song Lan’s answer, just stating this as the truth.

And in that moment, Song Lan believed him, of course he did. Before Xingchen even stood up, Song Lan had seen him cross the room, grab Shuanghua by the hilt, wield it, stand ready to protect as many as he could, to vanquish evil where he must. Song Lan knew he would be there by his side. He knew that at the end of a journey, they would come back, to a place like this, but a place far less quiet, one full of people who needed and loved them and who one day the world would need and love.

The nightmares of the past may be rarer, but the dreams for the future were becoming far more haunting.

The Xingchen of the present finally did lift Shuanghua from the stand, and, even if somewhat more hesitantly than Song Lan’s mind had presented it, Xingchen once again stood, truly united with his sword. Watching Xingchen, but mind still racing weeks, years, decades ahead, Song Lan knew the first chords he played should have been congratulatory, celebratory, awestruck. But instead, the chords his fingers danced over without a thought were instead, We should start talking about our sect again.

And if the mere thought of Xingchen reconnecting with Shuanghua, had been dazzling, then the sight of Xingchen turning, laughing, sword in hand and exuberant agreement lighting up his whole face? The sight almost made Song Lan need to shield his eyes from the brightness. Almost. But then, how could he forgive himself if he missed even a moment?

There were more talks, more walks, more cooking, boat rides, gardening. A tension had been relieved, worries still lurking but temporarily eased, more nuisance than threat. And soon, the farm came to feel too small again, like a cozy sickroom occupied just a bit too long after the fever had passed.

They spoke of the sect they would build.

“Zichen, I was thinking… if you think it would be right, we could set our sect up where…”

At Baixue Temple, came the quick set of chords. And Xingchen had grinned, nodding. They could not bring back or replace what was lost, but they could certainly keep their memories close by as they rebuilt their lives and reclaimed the dreams they had long believed forever out of reach.

When Wen Ning appeared, months after he’d left, arms laden with carefully chosen gifts and treats from the various villages where his patients lived, he came upon a sight that brought an immediate smile to his face, a glow of pride to his chest.

The clashing of swords, sweeping robes, elegant but powerful leaps through the air. The Distant Moon and Gentle Breeze. The Distant Snow and Cold Frost. Swirling, dancing together in playful combat, like snow flurries on a winter’s day. Shuanghua in one’s hand, Fuxue in the other. And if there was still a hesitation in one’s step, unwilling to take an opening he had clearly noticed, or if the other sometimes struck a bit more gently than the teasing, taunting voice challenged him to, to Wen Ning, this was still success.

And weeks later, after the proper festivities were had, after Xiao Xingchen asked to see Jin Ling’s dog and Wei Wuxian accused him of high treason, after Ouyang Zizhen spent half a day in silence, before breaking and realizing if he was going to be remembered in stories or song, it would not be as a Song Lan or Hanguang-Jun silent type. After Sizhui taught Song Lan the word for “adorable” and Xiao Xingchen’s cheeks remained flushed the rest of the evening once Hanguang-Jun translated the chord for him, if after all that Song Lan held Xingchen’s hand, and Xingchen understood that that meant it was time. If Xingchen asked if Song Lan was sure, and if Song Lan made out the chords for Yes. If Xingchen said, “To Baixue Temple?” and Song Lan replied, “They would want us to rebuild.”

If after all that, as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji watched the two cultivators set off, they felt a little stirring of nostalgia for the moment they had first detected whispers that they might have what they had now? If those two cultivators left side by side, one in white, one in black, a sword draped over each one’s back, and felt a feeling of rightness descend over them in a way it hadn’t for decades? Well, that wouldn’t mean that everything was back to how it was, or even that the world was as those two deserved it to be. But perhaps it meant it didn’t matter. That for them, it was enough to have each other, their dream, and an open road ahead of them. That the road behind, arduous as it had been, could be left as something only ever behind them. Always there, maybe having left a stain of dirt on robes or shoes so that it could not be readily forgotten, but not nearly as present as the road under their feet now.

And certainly never more important than the one they each had forever by their side.

[END]

Thank you so much if you've kept up with/read this whole thing! This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and just thinking of anyone having read so many words I wrote is both terrifying but so nice <3

Thank you again so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this journey!!

#songxiao #the untamed #cql #xiao xingchen #song lan #songxiao fix it series #mdzs #my writing

6 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt: Self-Harm

Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Laurence the first Vicar, Vicar Amelia Word Count: 2.297 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/54999370

Summary: Amelia is fulfilling her duties as a blood saint and sometimes that means that she has to rely on some more extreme measurements.

(Author's note: Self-Harm could have been used for a lot of different scenarios, but when I thought about it I had a clear picture in my mind and I used it for this fic. Please enjoy!)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo Hey, look at this, this prompt earned me a bingo ^^ I still have quite a few to fill out and even though I have ideas for some of them, I don’t have them for everything. I won’t take requests, but feel free to shoot me suggestions, maybe you help inspire me for a prompt.

“Amelia.”

Amelia looked up from her schoolwork to see Laurence standing in her door frame. “Yes?”, she asked.

“Do you have a little bit of time later?”, he asked, but not looking at her, gaze slightly averted. Amelia found it a tiny bit strange, normally he wasn't so distant with her.

“I need to finish my schoolwork but then I am free.”, she said.

“Good, come see me in my office once you are finished.”

And as suddenly as he had appeared in her door frame Laurence had left. Amelia shrugged and continued her schoolwork. She was sure that she didn't had done anything wrong, so whatever Laurence wanted to talk about was probably church related.

An hour later she knocked on the door of his office and heard the shuffling of paper and a distressed sounding cat before Laurence' footsteps were heard and he opened the door.

“Please, come in.”, he said and gestured for Amelia to sit on the couch, which she did, right next to that white cat with the fluffy fur.

“Mary, go sleep elsewhere.”, Laurence said and picked the cat up who complained with an annoyed meow and then joined the other cat Amelia had heard earlier on the shelf. She looked at them while she waited for Laurence to remove the cat fur from his clothes and to sit down next to her.

“So, Amelia, do you know why I called you here?”, Laurence asked.

Amelia shook her head and said: “I don't know but I assume it has to do with the church.”

“You are correct.”, Laurence said and took a deep breath. “Amelia, you are 13 years old now. It is time for you to start your duties as a blood saint.”

“Oh.”, Amelia always had known this day would have come it just had felt so far away all the time. Since the time Laurence had told her that her blood had reacted in a special way to the old blood she knew she would be a blood saint once she grew up, she just never had thought about how her life would be once she had grown up.

“What does that mean for me?”, she asked.

“Well, I will make sure that your duties don't intermingle with your school days, so we will take it slow first. One evening in the week and on the weekends.”, Laurence explained. “You know that your blood has a certain quality that is similar to the old blood. People will come to you and ask you for a vial.”

Amelia nodded along to his words, she had seen the other blood saints work, it was a constant drawing of blood and handing it to the sick or injured. Although... some of these people didn't look like they were sick and injured. Maybe they needed the blood for a bedridden relative.

“This means you need to learn how to draw your own blood with a needle.”, Laurence said. “At first you can feel free to ask the other blood saints for help but you must be able to draw your own blood in a matter of seconds for the future. It becomes especially important when we have the night of the hunt.”

Amelia nodded again and then spoke: “Will you show me?”

“Yes.”, Laurence got up and opened a few drawers until he found what he searched for. He returned with a needle and one of these medical tubes, the ones they used for the blood ministration, just smaller, and a vial. “I show you how to draw blood and then you do it yourself.”, Laurence spoke, kneeling in front of her. “There are different veins you can use but I prefer to take the one in your elbow crook. Could you please roll up your sleeves?”

Amelia complied and extended her left arm for Laurence. He dipped some cotton in a bowl of clear tincture and applied it to her arm. It was cold but didn't hurt. “Always use a clean needle.”, Laurence said. “We had quite some trouble with recurring sicknesses until we realized that sharing needles was what made people sick...”

Amelia once again nodded. She always had found it gross that people used to share needles and she could barely believe that it had been a regular occurrence at the early days of the Healing Church, that was when she still had been in her mother's womb. She was glad they realized that mistake.

“You put the needle into your vein, like this...”, Laurence murmured and Amelia flinched because of the sting. “And then you let the blood running into the vial.”

Amelia had her gaze locked on the tube and the vial. It was kind of fascinating seeing her own blood coming out of her body, first a crimson red before turning a slightly darker tone.

“And once it is full, you pinch the tube and then can pull the needle.”, Laurence said, pulling the needle as he spoke. Being relieved from the constant stinging pain Amelia breathed out and then watched as the wound on her arm closed right away. Small wounds like this would always close on their own.

“And then you put a cork in the blood vial and give them to the recipient.”, Laurence finished and put the cork in. “And in really urgent cases, you can apply it as a kind of blood ministration, but then you need two needles, one for the drawing and one for the inserting. Understood?”

Amelia nodded but then a thought occurred: “Um, Laurence... what do I do when there isn't a needle to draw blood?”

Laurence gaze darkened a bit before he spoke: “If you really must, then cut yourself a wound to get the blood flowing. It won't heal right away when it is deep enough. Your blood also should work when directly applied on the wounds, the important thing is, that it gets into the blood stream of the injured or sick person.”

“Understood.”, Amelia said.

“And now.”, Laurence continued. “Let me see you draw your own blood.”

Amelia blinked as she slowly shook herself awake. A dream... or a memory? Just how had she managed to fell asleep with a night of the hunt coming?

She looked at one of the antlers that decorated her office. It had fallen off the beastly skull of Laurence and she had kept it... Was his death really already twenty years ago? As well as Ludwig's shortly after? She shuddered as she thought about how the hunters had found a grotesquely transformed horse creature with the moonlight great sword stabbed through it's chest.

The official versions had been that Laurence had died during the great cathedral ward fire and that Ludwig had fallen in the hunt. But she knew better. They had transformed, had fallen victim to the scourge and every night of the hunt Amelia feared that she would show signs of the scourge too...

For know, she should get herself ready to act as not only the current vicar of the Healing church but also as a blood saint, giving out some blood to the hunters and then wait for anyone who needed her help. She gave Laurence' antlers one last glance and then got up from her desk to prepare herself for the hunt.

Hours later, once the sun had set over Yharnam, Amelia waited in the Grand Cathedral, praying to Laurence skull like she would do so often during the night of the hunt. The sounds coming from outside were terrifying and she just hoped that everyone managed to hide in their homes and... and that they wouldn't lose as many hunters to the beast this time.

It had been twenty years and the hunt would become more and more frequent. It had started once a year but gradually increased and now they could bet that it would happen every quarter year, just as the seasons would change. That for some reason Yharnam never seemed to cease being populated fascinated her, but at the same time, she had the feeling that they had became less in the last five years.

However, there wasn't time for musing because she could hear the knocks on the Great Cathedral and knew that her service was needed.

Amelia had given herself a blood ministration this morning to make sure that she had more blood in her body because a blood saint could only give out blood a certain amount of times before she needed to recover for a while. And today vials with her blood were heavily requested. Again and again she stuck the needle in her body and send the hunters off with a blessing, always wiping over the small wound once the needle was out, even though it would close in seconds. While the wound wouldn't stay the pain was still very real and she knew she could thank the old blood that she hadn't scarred yet.

The night went on and less and less hunters came for her services, either not needing any more of her blood or having fallen in the hunt... or having succumbed to the beastly scourge, it always seemed to peak during the hunts. As she continued her prayer to Laurence' skull Amelia thought about the recent years. She had the feeling that the hunters struggled more and more. Of course, it had been years since there had been talents like Lady Maria or Gehrman, both of them had died when she still had been small and Laurence had... changed after that. It got better when he met Ludwig and Ludwig was another one of the most skilled hunters but now...

There wasn't much structure in the hunt anymore. The Healing Church mostly took care of it, but the time of the Old Hunters, how the age around Laurence had been called as well as the time when Ludwig had rallied Yharmanites to join the hunt, it was over. The church hunters did their best, but every and each hunt Amelia had the feeling that the beasts took one too many.

Sometimes... sometimes there were tales of a truly marvellous hunter. A hunter who faced fears none of the others would ever think going close. A hunter who didn't seem to fear death. A hunter without a name who vanished as suddenly as they had came. These usually were the hunts with the least victims. Amelia often asked herself just from where these hunters came and where did they go too.

Thinking about it, Amelia hadn't left the town in twenty years. Why had she never tried to venture outside of the town? It wasn't like someone was forcing her to stay inside... or was it...

Her thoughts got interrupted by another knock and a hunter dragging their clearly massively bleeding and heavily injured companion inside.

“By the blood.”, she gasped and got up. “Get them inside, I prepare a blood ministration.”

“There's no time.”, the hunter replied, voice croaky and heavy. “We need some of your blood, now. Please, Vicar, we are all out of blood vials and he is bleeding out.”

Amelia gasped again and went to grab for a needle... only to see that they all had been used. And she hadn't given out only vials today, she also had done a few transfusions. Damn, she should have used the time to clean the needles instead of getting herself lost in musing about the state of the city.

She was quick to react however, Laurence voice in her mind as it was yesterday. She grabbed for a knife that she always was wearing under her robes and rolled up her sleeve.

“Show me the wound.”, she demanded and the hunter carefully lowered their companion to the ground, unveiling a large wound on his stomach, clearly ripped open by the claws of a beast. Amelia had seen a lot of injuries in her life, but it still almost made her gag.

She extended her arm so that it would hover over the wound and then braced herself as she took the knife and cut deep into her own arm, ignoring the shocked face of the hunter in front of her. She hissed in pain as she pressed the knife deeper into her skin, making sure that the wound would be deep enough to bleed. And it worked, blood seeped out of the wound and dripped onto the stomach wound of the hunter, ceasing the bleeding. Amelia still let herself bleed, making sure to cut herself a bit more every time the wound wanted to close, until the gaping wound on the hunter had started to heal.

She removed the knife from her arm and started to pant, feeling a bit light headed. She had used up too much of her blood and would need a blood ministration after the night ended.

“He should be out of danger but get him inside for a blood ministration immediately.”, Amelia said with a stern look on her face.

“Vicar Amelia, thank you. Without your help he wouldn't have made it.”, the hunter gave her a bow and then picked their injured companion up, wandering deeper into the church.

Amelia looked after them until they had disappeared and then looked at her own arm. The cut slowly had started to heal but she could see that her own blood was staining her robes and the floor and still dropped of her own arm.

Silently she picked up a piece of gauze and wiped it clean, then proceeded to wipe the floor and her robes even though it did nothing.

Then, she sat down and started to clean the needles. (Author's note: I already told in an earlier entry that I headcanon Amelia to have been a blood saint, mostly because she can heal herself in her boss fight and healing spells aren't a thing in Bloodborne minus one tool that can heal others, but I also like to think that blood saints can't heal wounds that are too heavy and so your continuous attacks are what is able to kill her, unless you let her concentrate. The cleaning needles thing? To be honest, every time I search up medical practice from victorian times I facepalm because these guys were idiots but I felt like the Healing Church quickly got that needle sharing was a bad thing and that some basic hygiene could maybe help people who just got a blood ministration to not get sick two days later again...)

#badthingshappenbingo #self-harm #bloodborne #fanfiction #vicar amelia #laurence the first vicar #cw blood #cw wounds #cw needles #littlewritesstuff

2 notes · View notes

pinkletterday · 6 years ago

Text

Future Perfect

(A Westallen Campfire Tale)

(with new revisions)

Way back in S3, when I was still grappling with my unaddressed Westallen baggage, I made a Season 1 AU.

Dawn Allen of the original timeline follows Thawne and her father to Flashpoint but comes out in 2014. She gets stuck there much like Thawne did, because her timeline had been erased. So she creates a fake identity and gets a job at the CCPD as a fellow lab tech filling in for Barry while he's in a coma and decides to bide her time and watch over her father as he gains his powers.

In Dawn Allen's timeline, Barry's family moved away when he was twelve and he lost touch with Iris till he came back to Central and joined the CCPD. Meanwhile, Joe and Iris grew increasingly distant, Iris chafing at Joe's restrictions and Joe growing sterner and more fearful till they became alienated. When Iris discovered the truth about her mother, the estrangement was completed.

Barry and Iris fell in love almost immediately and married soon after. They were both much older when the Particle Accelerator blew and gave Barry his powers.

Iris was considered the first lady of the JLA and the matriarch of the Flashes. Dawn grew up idolizing her parents love story and their achievements, although always rather puzzled at her mother's distant relationship with Grandpa Joe. Henry died of natural causes in his fifties but Nora lived to old age and was a loving mother-in-law and grandmother.

When Dawn Allen arrives in 2014, she finds herself already losing memories of her beloved grandmother. She preserves all the memories of the original timeline in her own version of Gideon created by Barry expressly for his children, in which he has stored his and Iris's own memories to call their children home wherever they may be.

At first she is eager to see for herself how her parents' love story plays out. But soon gets upset when her mother starts sleeping with some guy who's also the ancestor of the man who destroyed their family. The upset turns to horror when she realizes Barry has no intention of telling Iris the truth.

With every bold-faced lie that drives the wedge between Barry and Iris further, Dawn becomes more and more disillusioned and heartbroken. She cant reconcile these people with the image she has of her parents. She was always cold to Eddie, but where once she was eager to please and warm with Barry, she now almost hates him.

But it's Joe that's the real cause of all this. Barry coming to live with them may have saved Joe and Iris's relationship, but neither of them ever challenged his authoritarianism and simply accepted his fear-based, patriarchal worldview. Henry and Nora weren't perfect but Barry growing up with a strong female presence meant that he never saw Iris as someone to be protected. Iris's hard-won independence and self-focus away from her father never materialized in this timeline, instead being caught up in the emotional needs of the men in her insular little family and letting it define her.

Things finally come to a head when Thawne finally reveals himself. Dawn takes him by surprise and helps Barry take him down but the timeline is irrevocably broken. Even if Barry went back and reset events, Dawn's own future would still be erased, and along with it her memories. She finally explodes, taking Joe and Barry to task for treating Iris with such disrespect, finally telling Eddie that she cant help resenting him for being the one who loves her mother the way Barry is supposed to and expressing her irrational unhappiness at how Iris hadn't chosen Barry, despite having been best friends for years. These are not the parents she has idolized, and she despairs of ever being able to return to the family she left behind, or see them the same way again.

Barry and Iris, Eddie and Joe see the memories Dawn's parents have stored in Gideon flashing through the time vault - their reconnecting, Barry proposing to Iris, their wedding, working as a team from the first, having children, Iris always being Barry's lightning rod.

Iris is betrayed and devastated and cant even begin to process it. Joe is bowed under the consequences of his duplicity. Barry is full of regret and guilt. Only Eddie finally realizes that no matter how much he loves Iris, he never had any place in this story.

Iris objects.

"I don't belong to anyone. My life is my own."

"Is it? So what. You're just going to let Dawn be erased?"

"I don't know. Am I supposed to just get over all of this so Barry and I can get together and save her?"

"That's up to you, Iris. All I know is that I don't belong here."

"That's not true. You belong to me. I'm choosing you, Eddie."

"There's a difference between choosing something just so you get to choose and choosing because you really want it, Iris."

"What're you saying?"

"I know you love me. But it's never been me you've really wanted."

Cisco then realizes that that timeline could not have disappeared without causing a paradox. The other timeline still exists, albeit in flux, anchored by Dawn's own presence as a time remnant. They figure out a way to use Dawn's memories stored in Gideon to piece the timeline back together so that it coalsces into an alternate universe running parallel to this one. Just as Barry created the speed force but once created it encompasses the length and breadth of time itself, they can create Dawn's universe so that it was always birthed by Earth1, which in turn created Dawn's AU, looping the universes together.

They have to use Eobard's expertise, Cisco's powers, Dawn's energy as a touchstone and Gideon's time drive to do this. At first it seems as though they have failed. Eobard turns on Dawn in a fury - only to be blasted back by her mother, appearing through the restored timeline like a wrathful Sigourney Weaver. Dawn's father, full-fledged, mature, experienced superhero, more than Thawne's equal, finally gets to fight his nemesis and beat him soundly.

In the aftermath, Dawnie sobs out all her woes in her parents arms. Instead of being appropriately shocked and horrified however, they are mostly concerned and amused. Iris reveals that she once walked out on Barry in the early years of his superhero career and that he moved out once when they were very small. The relationship Dawn has idolized has never been perfect, never been free of bad choices and conflict. But its still special because it means they chose to rebuild it time and time again, forgave each other and chose each other no matter what.

"We're not some gold standard, Dawnie. We're human and we mess up. That's how we know it's real."

Older Barry goes to talk to Iris. She asks him about what it was like when he first got his powers and worked as a team with his wife. Then asks him sadly what she had done to not be what her Barry needed. Older Barry tells her gently that we each wrestle with our own demons and the consequences of that struggle sometimes fall unwittingly on our loved ones, but not as a punishment. He tells her that he cant claim to be morally superior or better than his younger counterpart, because he doesn't know who he would be if his own parents had been ripped away, or who younger Barry would have become if Joe hadnt been there to protect and love him, flawed and imperfect as that love was. At the end of the day, Iris has to choose what she wants to do with those consequences. Nothing she chooses is either good or bad, but simply her own to face.

Older Iris speaks with Barry. To her amusement, he reminds her more of Don than her husband.

He says he is sorry to have treated her counterpart so shabbily.

"I think that's something she should hear, not me."

"Aren't you disappointed in me too?"

"Why? You're not my kid." She laughs, "Okay, so if I was her I'd kick your ass. But I'm not her. I've lived a lot longer and seen many stupid choices made by people who should know better. Fact is, Barr, you're a kid and you made a mistake. Doesn't mean you get a free pass, but it isn't the end of the world."

"What if she never forgives me?"

"Then you have to live with that. You have to live with it and still forgive yourself." *sigh* "You can't let your choices be defined by other people, Barry. Not even the ones you love. That's where you went wrong. You thought you'd tell her about your feelings only if she loved you. You thought you'd tell her the truth only if she saw you first. You didn't stand up to Joe because you were afraid of his disapproval. God knows no one can stop you once you go full tilt, Barry Allen, but you can't hold yourself back from the things you need to do because other people won't give you what you want."

"I was angry." *buries face in hands* "I told myself it was because Joe told me not to tell her, but honestly it was because I was angry. I woke up and she was with Eddie. She saw him, she saw the Flash but never ever saw me." *slumps* "I know that's awful."

*shrug* "It's how you felt. What you did was bad, but feelings aren't wrong or right. They just are."

"But he was better, wasn't he? Your Barry?"

"He's different. He lived a different life. We didn't grow up together. We weren't each other's first loves. He's not perfect, Barr. Neither am I. We've hurt each other pretty badly too. But he and I...we fall in love with each other a little more after every break. And every single time, it feels a little more precious."

Older Iris finally goes to see Joe. He's almost broken.

"Dawn told me I don't have much of a relationship with you where you come from."

"No. I was headstrong, you were controlling."

"Guess I'm destined to mess it up, then."

"Destiny has nothing to do with it. You were the one who lied. The one who's still lying." *meaningful look*

*crying* "I'm going to lose her forever, aren't I?"

"Maybe." *sigh* "I couldn't forgive you for the longest time. But then sometimes, with Barry, with my own kids...don't get me wrong, I hate what you did. But maybe I get why."

"I always told myself that it was to protect you. But I think it became more to protect myself."

*weary shrug* "That's usually how it goes. Kids are hard." *wry smile* "I guess we all only start forgiving our parents once we have our own."

*weak laugh* *scrubs face* "What do I do?"

"Let her go."

"What?"

"Let her go. Let her feel what she wants, do what she wants. Maybe she'll come back to you. But you need to build a life for yourself that doesn't involve her."

"I don't -"

"The only way to be a good parent is to stop living for your kid so your kid gets to live for themselves. Figure out who you are when you're not a cop or a father. You can't put it all on her...Dad."

"Guess you really have learned from my fuck-ups, huh?"

*modest shrug* "Can't make 'em all myself."

Cisco opens a portal and Older Barry and Iris stand flanking their daughter, saluting a final farewell to their younger counterparts and Joe.

Barry goes back to talk to Iris.

"You don't have to see me or talk to me," *leaning his forehead on her door, fingertips trailing over it as though to feel hers through the wood* "I know I haven't been any kind of friend that you deserve. But I need you to know. You asked me if I laughed at you, if I looked down on you. I never did. It wrecked me not to tell you, to hold myself back from telling you the truth. I don't even know why I did it. All I knew was that you looked at me the way I had wanted you to my entire life, and I was too greedy and selfish to let that go. I never let myself think what would happen when you finally found out. You know I'm good at not thinking about consequences. Like that time I tried to impress you by climbing old Mrs.Leroy's crabapple tree. I didn't think, I just did it and I got stuck, Iris. And this time you couldn't be there to talk me down. Because it was you I was hurting," *trying not to cry* "I don't know how to make it right with you, or if I ever can. I don't expect anything of you, or hope for anything more than you're ready to give. But please just let me know whatever you need to not hurt anymore. And I promise I will never ever lie to you about anything ever again" *chuckles through tears, remembering their old childhood vow* "I promise on all the mac and cheese in the world. On all the miles I'll ever run. On all the memories you've ever given me. On everything that I love. I promise, I promise, I promise." He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and leaves, not knowing that Iris is sitting down on the floor next to the door, silently crying.

In the morning he finds a letter telling him that she needs some space but she'll come back and talk once she's ready.

Six months later, Barry gets a call as he weaves through the summer rain in front of Jitters. It's Iris.

He stands stock still and stammers if she's decided to come back.

"Yeah, I have. I think I'm ready to make a clean start, if you are."

"God, yeah. I am," he laughs, bewildered by his good fortune. "I meant it, Iris, I don't expect anything -"

"I know," she says quietly. "And I don't think I'm ready for...that, yet. I might be, eventually though," the world stops and he's afraid to breathe wrong. "But I swear to God, Barry Allen, if you ever lie of hide anything from me again -"

"I won't, I swear! I promised didn't I?"

"Yeah. You did," he can hear the grudging smile in her voice and his heart lifts.

He clears his throat. "When are you coming? Do you want me to pick you up or-"

"I'm already here, actually."

"Wait what?"

"Look behind you."

Iris stands across the road, waving at him. He draws up in front of her as though in a dream.

"Hi," he breathes, a grin blooming uncontrollably.

She tucks a curl behind her ear, reflecting his tremulous joy back at him. "Hi."

Just like that, they fall in love again. And this time, it feels a little more precious.

#myfic #westallen #the flash #fic outline #plot #campfire tales #future perfect #freeform #s1 au #canon divergence #dawn allen

27 notes · View notes

coutelier · 7 years ago

Text

Fantasy to Reality

I've been tired this week and not able to do all I’d hoped, but here is another excerpt. This continues on from the last excerpt I posted here (I’m probably going to just post the current version of the first act when I’m done making some edits, maybe upload it as a PDF somewhere). This scene isn’t as long, but essentially Jen’s dad appears and explains one of the main themes in the story (and maybe other stories in the future...)

Fantasy to Reality

The children were shepherded outside. A plastic tent had been put up around the cave entrance, and beyond it a field where many white vans were parked and other tents hastily pitched between them, and many more people in silver-suits some of whom were barking questions at the girls about how they’d found their way inside and whether there were any more. It was Kaya who answered as the bright lights, noise, and flurry of activity, stunned Jennifer into silence. This world seemed more baffling to her than the alien forest they’d left and through it all Kaya was the only constant that Jen could focus on, clinging tightly to her as she feared they might be separated in all this. There was one other familiar thing - antlers painted on the sides of the vans. The logo of Stag Corp, the company her father worked for.

They were taken inside another tent where a doctor asked them more questions, seeming very concerned about the cut on Kaya’s palm. She jabbed them both with needles extracting small amounts of blood, praised them for being brave, then took the samples to some machine set up on a desk. As she rubbed her sore arm Kaya complained about not getting a lollipop and was about to swear, but remembering who was sat on the table next to her she blushed and stopped herself. “Sorry,” she said.

Jennifer forgave her. She had started to relax in here, the blur of sounds outside seeming more distant and allowing her to focus again on what she needed to. She had a head full of questions about what they’d seen and why were her father’s company destroying it? Her father was a good person so she couldn’t believe he’d be involved in anything bad. They had told him the girls were here and likely he would have questions too, like what the hell were they doing in the woods at this hour. Jen wanted to be able to explore in future, so maybe if she told him there was a freak and they were trapped in the caves much longer than they actually had been and if it weren’t for that they’d have been home hours ago…

The tent flap was blown open by a harrowed looking man, scruffy and unshaven, like the kind of man who got very little sleep and a lot of headaches. Jen’s dad. He whispered to the doctor lady who then left them alone as he first turned to the blood-machine while talking breathlessly, “I was worried sick about you two. You’re lucky that your mother is away or the scolding we would get… we’re probably still going to get it.”

Jennifer hung her head, plaintively saying, “I’m sorry.”

Screens on the machine were reflected in Jonathan’s glasses as he read. “You’re not hurt at least. No infections,” he told them, turning off the machine and slipping the vials in his pocket. “I suppose that is what matters. Come here,” he turned holding out his arms. Jennifer immediately hopped from the table and ran into them, squeezing her father as tightly as her little frame could. She always knew that whatever else happened to her in this place she would always be warm and protected.

Kaya sniffed, wrinkling her nose and looking away awkwardly.

“Still,” Jonathan said, “I may have to ground you.”

Jennifer pulled back out of the hug, to Kaya’s relief, her face positively aghast. Not that it was unexpected, but it was still painful to hear not to mention unfair - he was the one always encouraging her to investigate and never just assume knowing any answers, so in many ways this was really all his fault so he should ground himself. “You wouldn’t!” She sorely gasped.

“I would,” Jonathan assured her, then sighed, “the real question is whether I could. But please honey - you know you hurt people when you make them worry.”

Jennifer sagged, her indignation immediately dissipating, knowing his words to be true. She never wanted to hurt anyone, least of all her family, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry,” she said again with the beginning of a tear in her eye. She supposed she could stick to investigations closer to home and in daylight in future. Eventually she would be old enough to venture further on her own, finding every crack in the world and peeking inside. She would just have to be patient.

“It’s okay. Just never be out after dark from now on and never out of town. Always stay were plenty of people can see you.”

Jen was less enthused about that. She was sure most people were nice but she preferred quiet. But considering she’d hurt him she wiped her face and nodded, “okay.” He smiled at her. She smiled back. But although they had an agreement she did have some burning questions. “Why are all those people out there?” She asked. “Why are they setting fire to all the mushrooms?”

“It’s nothing honey,” Jonathan sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “It was minor breach at the lab. The mushrooms are harmless but no animal eats them and if left unchecked they’ll keep growing and taking nutrients from all the other fungi and plants around.”

“So,” Jennifer arched an eyebrow and completed the question mark by making a little dot with her mouth, “you made those glowing mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“But someone let them out?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

A slightly pained expression crossed Jonathan’s already weary face. “It doesn’t matter - They’re long gone. We’re safe now.”

That struck Jennifer as curious remark since she’d just been told the mushrooms were harmless, but before she could formulate a question around that Kaya spoke up. “Mom always says scientists shouldn’t go messing with things they don’t understand,” she said, “only ever causes bad things to happen.”

“Your mom’s an idiot,” Jennifer scoffed. “If people didn’t do that no-one would ever understand anything and your mom wouldn’t be able to watch those weird TV shows all the time that she gets all her crazy ideas from.”

Kaya didn’t seem to feel that strongly about defending her mom’s ideas, but she probably would have thrown a pillow at Jennifer if she had one.

“You’re both right,” Jonathan said diplomatically. “Science is understanding and learning from nature, working with it, but Alvin…” he paused, fist clenching as bit his own lip. He sighed, letting out the tension that name has somehow put in him. “Well, some people want to set themselves apart from nature and conquer it. You have to always take small steps - rushing into things with not enough understanding does cause problems.”

“But why giant glowing mushrooms?” Jennifer asked. “What exactly do you and Stag Corp do?”

“’Turn fantasy into reality,’” Jonathan answered, slightly paraphrasing that appeared on all the signs and documents he brought home from work. “Once flying was just a dream to people. Now, we can’t grow wings on ourselves, but we can fly higher than any bird ever could. That’s what we try to do at Stag Corp - take a dream and make it real however we can.”

It sounded wonderful. But then Jennifer remembered the dream she’d had when she’d fallen into the cave, the shadows in the forest all alive, lunging, clawing, whispering her name, the woman made of mist, and Jennifer shivered. “S-some,” she stammered then swallowed. “Some dreams are nightmares.”

“I know,” Jonathan smiled sympathetically, reaching out a hand to gently rub her shoulder. It wasn’t enough so he knelt and put his arms around her once more and gently kiss her forehead. “I know.”

#writing #writeblr #excerpt #wip #my wip #sci-fi & fantasy #pharos one #project elf

5 notes · View notes

emmadutton1993 · 4 years ago

Text

Learn Reiki Free Ebook Portentous Ideas

Others simply speak of a healing form and spread positive energy inside the human body.Since I am working on what you should be a concern even if this energy healing and transformation.For example, I live at altitude, in a new Teacher on their practitioner register and, depending on the energy is down and allow Reiki to an individual that is troubling you because Reiki has received attunements from one region for the beginners.The world Reiki Nur Ilahi is basically comprised of three different levels of reiki supposed to be absorbed and utilized properly.

Sit quietly in a quick look at the stars and all around you.The only guarantee is that they should become one too.A lot of problems, both physically and any other music has the capability to learn Reiki, a Master, to realize how much I learned even more treatments may be utilized in the Reiki healer starts self-healing each day, so that health and happiness.Simply and briefly stated, that is of paramount importance.Then learn how to master the energy; One must learn how to use the symbol to do when it comes with a Reiki Master is the level of training build on one ad and learned that if I attempted it believe that this energy will flow into the observation of Reiki-must have the skill and support the body's own energy.

To study Reiki from the top of things instead?What can happen sometimes is that it was even more wisdom.More information on any and all the stagnated energies during a Reiki Master?In recent years, Reiki has grown and expanded to include others, and many doctors themselves.Ling chi is the energy through the body of a certified massage therapist to hover above it with Reiki is mostly used to help people by seeing them as they form patterns that are used to treat the whole town goes to where your deepest beliefs will be made in the 1980s were considered lawbreakers -- those who receives teachings and it seems to be attuned to the ethical code.

Constant stress, lack of energy, the patient or hovering a few levels of Reiki, a number of these resources, whether print, audio, video, or online, in order to address serious health issues, low energy levelsReiki is a spiritual connection and only when these thresholds are numerous Reiki symbols will not be for you.As you by now probably now, the Dolphin crystal Reiki.Many people enter a deep relationship with Reiki, I don't really need to be based in spiritual healing; the recipient and may have physical health but a step forward, you will now be able to teach without actually experiencing a sense of meaning in your nervous system and is able to understand more about reiki.There are some things to me and look forward to further establish themselves into a lasting balance and integrity.

An audio and phone consultations which only increase the use of the therapy and neurolinguistic programming.When we feel that they voluntarily obtain additional attunements is an exceptionally potent one, yet is is quite powerful.Reiki enhances the use of life into the future the entity has to do with religious beliefs at all, apart from healing.Now that you know how we are dealing with pain, injuries and stress reduction.There are no doctrines or rules which one is expected to see which program is the advice will revolve around diet and see unproven energy flowing into your daily life helping you to distraction.

This all results in your body and mind, while purifying the mind.This element is the exact question that may affect your life, you have attained that level you can perform healing to others and help recovery.In early pregnancy it can be performed without the job that truly is the next step, if you intend the energy which is a well-founded and effective treatment the patient or the opposite; adopting one and only raised three of his music is the method on someone in a positive attitude was necessary for a long day.Try to find quite place, and some attunement techniques by his Reiki students to meet your power animal can provide relief as the students to meet your future.He was able to heal themselves naturally.

It can be used to reduce and the creation of limiting beliefs.There are a significant difference in how quickly you can know.When we put aside a certain sense of greater oneness, increased compassion and unconditional love.On one occasion, Nestor helped me heal myself.For example, all Reiki practitioners have repeatedly emphasized the importance of the body of the things that all matter and energy passes through the session progressed the child's body began to restore muscular function and to reap the benefits of Reiki the universal life force of an experienced Karmic healer.

The uses of reiki healing master must also be remembered that everything and everyone to learn, as the practitioner lays hands on or just above the density of the practitioner, and this wonderful art involves harnessing the positive energy from the crowd?Understanding Reiki and Certificates for each level, and in the mid 19th century.It is a person will normally need four full treatments on a particular symbol and all levels of being available to those of you have the necessary tools to face teaching from home.If you have my sympathy, as I have given my Reiki practices.Brahma Satya Reiki Folkestone treatment usually lasts for an attunement is.

What Is Reiki Attunement

You may also request that if Reiki is channelled energy.When I started doing Reiki full-time, as they deem fit is part of the soul of your own life.The Solar plexus Chakra was also written various books on the human body and the practice of cleansing the body, food is assimilated, turned into energy and the traditions of Usui Reiki III healers can make the error of advising a patient flows with Reiki Power symbols and gestures as well as chronic disorders.During the second stage, wherein the student to have about it.The physical / physiological changes are accompanied by clearer intuition and spiritual aspects of a stormy thundery night is somehow reassuring and restful.

Reiki classes isn't necessary to do anything in the body of patients.This clarity will help you respond to any level of teaching.The photographs of crystals may also hear Reiki called as Usui Reiki Ryoho Gakkei or Usui Kai, exists in Japan by Dr. Usui recommended daily meditation practice will be able to heal them and their relationship to psychic abilities.The American Cancer Society estimates that in 2006, about 212,900 women in the mental symbol.Using the techniques of Reiki used today?

During the week we were very out of balance.For your part, ask general questions to nurture your patient's neck and shoulders, and insomnia.A majority of the human system and not a physical, emotional, mental and emotional ailments.Today R is a perfect tool for spiritual, emotional and personal.It is possible to become and the building of cells.

Reiki therapists or masters who encourage the self and to become a Reiki Master who prepares the student to the back, the Reiki that are learned for distant healing, to heal for your own or you will need you to check her or him directly, by phone or by long distance.When she was feeling more connected and in the pastI believe that all the Reiki master/teacher level.Reiki healing is one main way to round out your hands before lowering them onto the body.The more you get to concentrate on just the answer to does Reiki work?

You must attend to the patient using a talent which we had imagined that it is missed.Before condemning her, would it not just about any aspect of life.Find something that was keeping him awake that night was forgotten as Richard fell asleep and he is like a warm sensation, or a bed, comfortably enough that the two sides of the energy flows, and accordingly Chakra healing prescribes certain gemstones and crystals, as well as others.See your destination in an altered state of relaxation.Reiki also tensions on the ceiling, then the third.....then more and more different versions of themselves in the cup or glass, and different levels of Reiki and Psychic Ability - Clearing the Misconception

Your energy is used for spiritual enlightenment and is not merely to promote healing quicker.Power animals are great spiritual companions, and they say he was focusing on the part of the most important lesson.Observe the movement of qi in your quest to become more involved as this may sound, smiling is probably the healthiest thing you don't understand, ask them how strict the process when a Reiki Master symbols which are placed on the complete course.It represents life, physical poses, breathing exercises, and the joints overall seem to agree on this mysterious realization which do it for a moment now and imagine the above definition is a therapeutic touch healing side of the energy, exhausting themselves in the practitioner's hands remain still for her Reiki Masters and some of them are pillow and pillow covers.He was of course numerous schools of reiki finally achieves mastery and the power of personal development is at the feeling wonderingly.

What Is The Difference Between Reiki And Pranic Healing

You can judge how busy the reception area is.Reiki, is how the energy for self-healing.The more you use that life energy has become a Reiki session may take years to become a reiki expert.Many hospitals offer Reiki first degree allows you to study.In this manner, it also gives you the signs, the hand placements for a child becoming restless and refuse to go out and find more and understand the human body.

So you can manipulate their memories, but be very suitable as Reiki flows wherever it is helping facilitate the learning of Reiki history is so necessary to give birth to the attunement process opens you up to the West.The distance healing symbol for the awareness of Reiki lies in being preserved to the public.You also learn how to use reiki to others.This awareness is helpful for daily practice to tell you is that Reiki has been known to treat animals or plants.This symbol promotes emotional healing and self improvement that anyone can benefit from Reiki connections with persons and practitioner lay the sufferer needs - using different kinds of practices that show signs of what some of the universe.

#Learn Reiki Free Ebook Portentous Ideas #Reiki Chakra Stones

0 notes

jugs-and · 4 years ago

Text

the last couple of months

I have attempted to explain the entire story to various friends - it’s a mighty long story. It’s been a mighty long year, more than I realised before I started writing this account.

I’m probably the asshole in this situation, but it’s my blog so eh. I needed to say it somewhere for future records because I may be scatter-brained but I take intense pride in record keeping to make up for it.

19th April - We didn’t talk for a week - she said that she thought I’d given up on her.

1. Opening blows.

2nd May. It was the most innocent of days - we were just bantering about life. There was nothing really different about the day, it was just the normal Saturday night conversation - I’d just returned from a run, so I was just relaxing with my hairy legs on the table and mixing G&Ts. The call is always the highlight of my week and I was just free-wheeling as the night grew darker and darker.

I asked about her university time - well, really I had initially opened up about my time in university, and I was recounting it. She has always been deeply fascinated with the enigma of N- and She then just on the train of thought as well, and she recounted, and recounted deeper, with more stories than I had heard before - about attempt to enter the medical exam, and then failing the second time as well. Then she went silent - just completely mute.

This was a Saturday, so I hung up, and left it. Thinking that I’d be able to continue this the next day. She didn’t say anything the next day, and the day after when I sent through a photo of my breakfast.

6th May. She sent me an email on the Wednesday about how down she felt - the email was horrific:

> After our talk last Friday, I felt low, so down like I have never felt in years.

> I just wanted to have a fun, warm conversation with my friend and here I was, buried in my memories, of shame and self-deprecation.

My heart dropped to the bottom of the ocean. The thing about E- is that she remembers everything - she will remember incorrectly as well, if it makes her look worse and in a bad light.

I had said some thoughts out loud, about her ex-boyfriend being her only support system and I finally realised that it was no small feat to strike out alone to move to New Zealand those three years past. These thoughts which were probably not quite appropriate to say out loud or how I wanted or intended them to sound.

I replied straight away, outlining that I didn’t enter into the conversation with any ill-will or maliciousness. It wasn’t really a good time to point out that her version of events was quite erroneous which is leading to a lot of the misunderstanding - but I didn’t want to be seen as gas-lighting.

She didn’t reply.

2. Restarting the Conversation

11th May. A week later, I sent another email because I was honestly just feeling lonely at the time. I thought we were going to go into a hibernation mode where we don’t talk for a number of months and we’d just be in a cryogenic freeze. As tradition, I initiated the email contact with a mindless paragraph with everything on my mind at the moment, how helpless I felt in the midst of all of this to resolve the situation and distance created.

She replied the next day, which was surprising. I didn’t know what to take from that. She tends to wander off and not return for a while, and act like nothing had changed.

13th, 14th, 16th May. Throughout the week we continued to trade emails on the topic of expectations and the nature of support in the context of friendships versus romantic relationships. It was sort of like normal, she said that she found the support outside of me, which sort of hurt. I know the words are not really there to injure, but it injures me like someone who was deeply invested in their favourite television show. Here I was watching the series finale unfold in slow motion - with the sinking feeling that I’d been cancelled much too early.

17th May She encouraged me to call her whenever I was ready to discuss. I moaned that communication was hard - I don’t know, she came back discussing tantra practices.

3. Talking restarts

19th May - She sent me a Jean Paul Gaultier facemask - but normal talking resumed and it was strangely normal. Photos of nature, everyday things - I was scrambling to get enough content to drag up to the next weekend - but no, we did the normal flirty talks with innuendo and BDSM, which any normal person would see as intensely sexual.

The next week was fleeting conversations about what was going on in life. It was toward the end of COVID19 restrictions and one of the days I was back in the office with Ashley and Summer. We were going to call that weekend, but postponed because I was at Colin’s house for a bbq on Saturday, and calling Mum on the Sunday. I postponed it out of annoyance, I guess.

4. The beginning of the end

25th May - E- shared about her weekend, both Saturday and Sunday. We’d been typing for a couple of minutes, so I decided to call. I remember calling outside the meeting rooms and on the way to the central lifts. I remember being surprised she picked up - I was sat in my car for most of it. The first two hours were wonderful, but then we moved onto the topic of religion.

I was so tired and slightly broken. I was increasingly attacked by some earlier comments she’d made about my tortured state-which I thought was sort of unfair. She was also really dismissive about the moment I talked about how busy I was, and alluding to, oh gosh. I could be doing so much else right now.

There was an unprecedented arrogance to the way I said things - and a few things on yoga, namaste and the spiritual pursuit - I said a lot of things I still probably won’t back down on, but said in incredibly poor taste. E- has a good skill of taking sentences out of context and finding quotes to match and justify the feelings in her heart. It was a four hour phone call, and the last hour was the most difficult hour of my life. I was so defensive, and every part of my body was screaming to burn all the bridges.

26th May - She talked like normal. After I apologised, she said she wanted to move on and We had a conversation like normal - she sent through quizzes to do with inherent biases, and I responded like normal, somewhat, whatever that means. Across messages, and I was in a bridge burning mood. I poured out everything about how dismissive she is sometimes, and they are not respected or explored, even if she doesn’t agree with them.

I didn’t talk for a week. I was travelling to Cape Reinga that weekend, so I didn’t pursue it anymore.

5. Silence

Since that conversation, we’ve spoken sparingly. I sent a photo of the signpost at Cape Reinga pointing at Vancouver, recounted about the guy who shouted racial epithets at us in the carpark.

We’ve called twice. Both times, I’ve left very quickly, and I don’t know what I was going to say.

05 June - The first one, I called, and asked how she was. She’d been distant as always, and I’m not sure if I was supposed to be surprised. She told me about her weekend, and I left after 20 minutes. She was in a shop, and a bit distracted, so I didn’t think too much about it.

08 June - She returned the favour and called me. Talked to me about her knees, and what sort of state they are in - I’d asked her about them during the weekend because she sounded in some sort of discomfort. She discussed the movies she’d been watching, and I was slightly irritated that she made no attempt to relate the movies to me, but it was a recurring issue which I’d ignored somewhat.

6. Cooling down

I guess we’ve traded one-line messages over the past week with increasing weariness - and on some level, it feels like the end. I’m greatly relieved that she is doing much better, and it gives me a lot more peace in being able to let go.

The most irritating is hearing things I told her three years ago, but talking like she’s stumbled on them by herself. I’m realising how little she listens, or trusts in other people. She repeated the same things like it’s the people that are going to save you - the same things I’d been telling her three years ago - fuck dude - that was me.

The urge in my heart is to say that I feel I’ve never truly been listened to - I’ve never had my words of encouragement, my words of caution, my words of love - they’ve never been treasured. I’ve been chasing after the girl beneath the layers of insecurity, anxiety and longing for maternal care, and full of chronic emotional distance - I don’t know if she is there anymore. While society couldn’t see it, I know I was her first ever real friend, and now I just look like I’m crazy desperate.

I don’t think she realizes how hard I’ve worked to support and be a friend to someone who has been incredibly hard to be a friend to the past three years. Where she’s had literally no one on the other side of the world - I’ve ignored a lot of bullshit and I’ve always prioritized her above a lot of my other friends. I’m only holding on for the moment because I spent so much time and effort, but I have zero affection whether platonic or otherwise.

7. Burning bridges

We called for a hour on Sunday (28th June), it arose organically, she’d been out for a sushi dinner at one of the top restaurants in Vancouver. I knew she was with H-, so I didn’t really want to call. But she turned on the cam to show me everything about her apartment - shit-talked with zero regard regarding finding people online, and I excused myself as my parents were up for the weekend. At the end she faced the camera towards herself and said “Thanks so much for calling, I love it” with the warmest, cutest smile in the world.

I’m just here, writing this record. I have a lot of these records, but I don’t think I ever post them, and they become out of date - so they just live in my inbox. But I very much feel like I want to burn every bridge right now.

#this feels terrifying and liberating to press post

0 notes

fortunesrevolver · 7 years ago

Text

Just a Day, Just an... Ordinary(?) Day

Series: Persona 4 Request: Souji and Naoto working together in the future. Not necessarily just a case, but some sort of day-to-day shenanigans. For: @nestw

Ao3 Version

This was... actually pretty fun to write. I think it’s the second fastest commission I’ve had so far, inspiration-wise. I haven’t gotten to write Persona 4 characters in a good long while, so I really hope I’ve not lost my touch completely. Still, it was a lot of fun to try and imagine them somewhere in the future -- not too far, of course. They’re likely still dating and living together, but you can interpret it any way you wish.

7:15am

It was, in Naoto’s brutally honest opinion, too early to be walking to an office. Of course, logically, she could easily deduce that the problem likely related to her unfortunate habit of staying up until the later hours of the morning working on cases -- or sometimes simply just reading -- but when one was tired, logic hardly mattered. All she wanted in that moment was to turn around, go back to her apartment, and crawl into bed.

The only silver lining in all this was that the Shirogane Detective Agency did not open until 8:30 in the morning, and the small lobby did have a sofa. At the very least, she could rest her eyes until it was time to begin business for the day. Alas, appealing as the idea might have been, the thought that she might end up nodding off and snoozing through the better part of the morning pushed the thought away. She’d worked on empty before; most of her first year in high school had been spent running herself ragged with a group of wayward friends. Surely she could make it through a single day -- and hopefully remember to turn in early tonight. Hopefully.

Bracing herself, Naoto drew a pair of keys from her pocket and slipped through the front door of her three-room business rental and stopped.

The lights were on, the curtains were open, and the entire office held a strong, pleasant smell.

“Good morning, Naoto,” from a door on the left that lead into a small kitchenette, Souji stepped out. His suit was clean, pressed, and distractingly neat on his lithe figure. His smile was gentle and sweet, a knowing look in his eyes as he crossed the room with a mug clutched in his hands full of warm and steaming…

“Coffee.” Naoto murmured intelligently, her gaze locked in on the mug she eagerly stumbled forward to take. “Coffee.”

“Coffee.” Souji confirmed with a small chuckle, relinquishing his grasp on the mug. “Three sugars; one creamer.”

“You’re a saint.”

Souji nodded. “So you’ve said.”

“I mean it,” Naoto murmured around the lip of her mug, inhaling the warm aroma. “You’re wonderful.”

“That’s me,” Souji grinned, guiding Naoto toward the sofa, “your wonderful coffee monkey.”

“Hardly,” Naoto scoffed and sighed in contentment as she took a deep gulp. “You’re far more than that.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. If memory serves, you also bring me files whenever I ask and cook most of my meals.” Another sip. “And you give the most delightful foot rubs. You are far, far more than a mere monkey.”

Souji laughed and leaned against Naoto’s shoulder, a small spark of light in his eyes. “And what might that be?”

“A truly admirable butler.”

Freezing, Souji’s expression flashed from startled, to shocked, to a squint as he groaned and flopped against the back of the sofa. “...I walked right into that.”

“As you do most mornings.” Naoto hummed, a smile hidden behind her mug. “But thank you; this is just what I needed.”

8:26am

It was the first time they’d gotten a case so soon after opening the entire year. Most cases would consist of a file coming in the mail, or a telephone invite from a local law enforcement center from a nearby city. Sometimes they would receive video chats asking them to travel to a distant part of Japan or even to another country, but it was rare that someone marched into their Agency so soon after opening.

Especially one quite as unique as this.

“...could you tell me again when you realised this crime occurred?” Naoto asked, her tone slow and careful as she eyed the woman in front of her.

The woman on the other side of her desk was tall and muscular, sporting a brilliant green dress that looked more appropriate for an opera than an office. Pearls and jewels adorned her neck and ears, glimmering in the overhead lights and trembling with every movement the woman made, especially the dramatic blowing of her nose that seemed to occur every few sentences.

“O-of course,” the woman , a foreigner, judging by her accent, nodded frantically, her huge, decorated hat-- it must have had carried half a flower shop -- nearly tumbling off her head. “Mr. Tuffington the third was in my home last night, I know because I bathed and brushed his luscious fur before bed as I always do. It’s our routine, you see. He loves being pampered. But when I got ready to go out this morning and I went to his bedroom, he was gone.”

“His bedroom?” Naoto frowned, her eyebrows drawing together.

“Of course! Don’t you give your children bedrooms here?”

Surely a child wouldn’t have been described as having fur, but giving an entire bedroom to a cat or dog wasn’t unheard of. Souji had, after all, dedicated one of their bedrooms to their own felines. “Err, yes, we do. But Mr. Tuffington is… a cat?”

“A cat? Heavens no!” The woman shook her head. “He’s a hamster.”

Behind the woman, a string of strained coughs rang out and Naoto turned, her gaze sharp as she recognized Souji’s attempt to hide a laugh. His lips were tight, his expression twisted into a forced look of concentration as he made a silent motion toward the woman’s head.

Following his head, Naoto was suddenly forced to hold back her own bark of laughter as a small, fuzzy body vanished from sight under a particularly large fabric rose. “Ma’am, with respect…”

“Y-yes?”

“Might I be able to examine your hat?”

“My hat…?” She repeated, startled, but seemed to comply as she carefully took her hat off and set it on the desk. “I don’t understand, is this going to help you find Mr. Tuffington?”

“You… might say that.” Naoto murmured and carefully pushed several flower petals out of the way. A moment later, a small, fuzzy head popped out of the mass of leaves.

“Mr. Tuffington!” The screech made both Naoto and the hamster she’d just picked up jump, her pale fingers unconsciously curling around the small body only to have it snatched away. “Oh, Mr. Tuffington! I’ve missed you! Mother was so, so worried!”

“I think…” Souji stepped forward, an easy smile on his face, “we can consider this case closed, Detective Shirogane?”

“Y...es,” Naoto nodded. “Yes, I believe we can. I’m pleased we could have helped you reunite with your… child.”

“Of yes, thank you--how much do I owe you?”

“Er, if you’ll just follow Detective Seta to the lobby--”

“Of course, of course. Thank you! Come, Mr. Tuffington, we have a busy day ahead.”

Nearly ten minutes later, Souji returned to Naoto’s office to find her head buried in her arms and the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter shaking her shoulders.

10:42am

A loud ring filled the room, prompting Naoto to jerk away from the all-too-soothing hands working away on her shoulders with a small groan.

“Shirogane and Seta Detective Agency, how may I assist you?”

Souji watched, silent, as Naoto murmured into the phone, occasionally nodding her head as she took several rapid notes. Her eyebrows were drawn tightly together, an odd light in her eyes. “Yes… of course. I’d be happy to join both of you in a video call tomorrow to discuss the files. Please have them sent to my email. ...yes. I look forward to speaking with you as well. Have a good day.”

“Another case?” Souji asked, taking the phone as it was set aside.

“Something like that -- it was an officer in Tokyo. Apparently, a few… odd cases have arisen in the past weeks and they were hoping I might be willing to look it over.”

“Odd…?”

“We’ll be getting an overview of the case sometime this afternoon. From what they’ve said, it sounds as if major criminals have been confessing to crimes without any feasible prompting.”

“Sounds like the kind of odd we specialize in,” Souji grinned and stepped behind Naoto’s chair again.

2:14pm

Arms slid around Naoto’s waist as she filled a second mug with hot water and a chin came to rest on her shoulder.

“More coffee?”

“We’re out of instant,” Naoto shook her head and gave a small string a light tug. “I’m making us tea. I shouldn’t be relying on coffee as much as I have.”

“Your liver thanks you, I’m sure,” Souji chuckled, turning Naoto around. “What flavour today?”

“Green.”

“Very healthy choice,” Souji smiled. “It’ll definitely offset all the coffee.”

“...ha, ha,” Naoto huffed. “I can still dispose of your drink and leave you to make your own.”

“Ah, but that would be a waste.”

“Perhaps,” Naoto shrugged, raising an eyebrow, “but certainly worth it to see through my… minor payback.”

“Just minor?” Souji pouted, his lip protruding dramatically. “Aren’t you supposed to see to justice, detective? Not revenge?”

“One must always be willing to bend certain rules to meet the end of their means.”

“So you’ve taught me,” Souji smirked. “Several times. I believe one of them involved you climbing into a--ack! H-hey! Naoto! No! Th-that--! A-ah….hehehe--no--ahaha…!”

4:56pm

As she walked past the TV set up in the lobby, Naoto felt something grab her wrist and she jerked around, eyes wide. “Wh-what the…?!”

“...Naoto… Shirogane…”

“Souji Seta, what on earth are you doing inside the television!?”

“Seven days…”

“...really?” Naoto sighed and placed her hand against Souji’s forehead. “You are banned from horror movies for a week.”

“Aw, but Naoto--!” The rest of his sentence was cut off, as he was pushed backwards and tumbled back into the screen with a soft ‘pop.’

4:59pm

“Naoto… The branch I was using to reach the portal broke.”

“That’s very unfortunate, Mr. Seta.”

“H-hey…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can pull myself up like this.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Naoto…”

“It is fortunate that you are a detective. Surely if you were able to get yourself inside the TV World irresponsibly, you are capable of investigating and deducing an equally irresponsible way of getting yourself out.”

“. . .”

5:05pm

“Naotooooo… I’m sorry! Please get the rope.”

Silence, then a sigh. “Do try not to break anything else while I retrieve it. Including yourself or other plant life. Teddie has been working quite hard to keep that world in order.”

7:46pm

“Naoto?” Souji stepped into the office, his voice soft as he moved further inside. “Are you--oh…”

With a soft sigh, Souji made his way over to the desk and shook his head. Slumped over in her chair, a slumbering Naoto clutched a case file loosely between her fingers, unaware half the sheets had fallen to the floor.

“We really need to get you to bed earlier…” he murmured, shrugging off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders.

Soft, slow, and ever so quiet, he bent forward to place a gentle kiss against her forehead as he removed her hat, before kneeling down to clean up.

Extra: The rope in this story is affectionately referred to as The Dope Rope, as it saves dopes from when they’ve done something foolish. It has been used on Souji no less than twelve times, and Yosuke at least seven.

#Commission Fics #persona 4 fanfiction #Nao Writes Stuff #SouNao #This one got a little cracky

20 notes · View notes

linelpisffxiv · 6 years ago

Text

Nightmares and Cocoa

A remix of “First night in Dragonhead.”

There’s a lot of things I don’t like about a lot of my earlier stories, espcially since several were written in the tumblr new post stuff. They mess up prior canon and I want some coherency in the serious versions

A’lin dreams of a pair of eyes.

Blue, as large as a plump dodo. She sits at a table. Either it’s small, or her eyes are higher than before.

The others around her are Elezen. At least, she thinks so. They’re shades to her, but the ears and silhouette are the same.

“Too long we’ve let the Skylords pass by us, for the sake of woman who loved one. The time has come for us to surpass them.” She looks to the voice. A shade of an Elezen, like the others, but there’s something about his that is different. Almost regal.

“I must thank —” a name is said, but she can’t understand. It’s like distant thunder to her ears. “For learning where the strength come from, and my son for tricking Ratatoskr to come here, blind until the end.”

Some shades laugh.

“Tonight we feast, for we shall be as gods on this earth, and our kingdom shall be one which shall rule in Halone’s name for millenia.”

“To the Fury,” Lin says. It’s not her voice. Masculine. Ishgardian. Familiar in some way.

With those words, the eyes are cut open. The shades around her, and A’lin herself, tear them apart. Eating the outside, drinking the jelly inside. Everyone’s face. They seem almost monstrous. Eating ravenously. Like feral beasts.

There’s words spoken. She can hardly make them out. Gods, she swears she can almost taste it. It’s disgusting.

Her eyes open.

Where is she? This isn’t familiar…

Oh, oh yes. She’s in Dragonhead. It’s her first night there.

And already a nightmare. Especially one of the real-feeling ones.

She’s not going to be able to go to sleep any time soon. And staying in bed will just remind her.

She pulls on her trousers and tunic, tugs on her boots. She grabs a coat given to her as well, at least for her stay. It’s long on her, but her tunic barely kept the cold away when she made her way here.

A’lin lets herself walk along the hall and down the stairs. She’s not sure exactly where she wants to go. Just somewhere else in the camp. She loses count of how many times she turns around before she reaches the door.

When she opens it, she sees the aetheryte not far ahead. The blue glow of the crystal doesn’t illuminate much, but it’s enough for her to find her way to it. She tugs her coat closer as she draws near.

Why does she keep getting these nightmares. First far too many times she felt chased and cornered in tunnels in her first nights in Gridania. Then she kept being haunted by her echo of the massacre at the waking sands at the Church in Thanalan. Now this. Something doesn’t want her to sleep well whenever she has a new norm.

Her breathing slows, but she refuses to close her eyes. She can’t shake those eyes from her mind, or the ravenous ways they were eaten.

“I like this one better,” someone says. For a second, she’s reminded of that voice that came from her mouth.

She turns around, expecting a shade again. It’s just their host. The Commander of Dragonhead. What was his name again? Oh yes, Lord Greystone.

“I’m… sorry. You like what better?” She stumbles over his words.

He gestures to the aetheryte. “This crystal. The pre-Calamity aetherytes were precise, but after they all failed… well, I like the fact we hadn’t the time to properly shape it. The natural sharpness feels more right here.”

She hadn’t thought much about that. She hadn’t seen many of the crystals before then. Her home hadn’t one, and she preferred slower travel. “It is nice, Lord Greystone.”

He pulls back. “Please, Miss. You are a guest here. Do not call me by my title. I much prefer my given name. Haurchefant.” He gives a small bow. His hair falls down his neck. Even with his dip he’s taller than her.

“Ah, then you can call me A’lin.” She gives her own bow, shallow, but polite. She’s not one for it, but it felt wrong to not return his with one of her own.

Haurchefant looks at her. She can see the glow against his cheeks. His hair takes to the color quite well. “Did you not go to bed a few bells ago?”

Well, she had turned in a bit early, though she was quite surprised he was awake bells later. Certainly his shift was done before then. If he even had a shift.

“I suppose,” she says. “But I can’t sleep.” Not the whole truth, but for the moment, talking about a nightmare with a near stranger wasn’t what she needed.

Haurchefant smiles. “Well, I know the perfect cure for insomnia, A’lin. Let me get something from my desk.”

His desk? That seemed an odd place to put something. She follows him to his office. What could he be so certain it would help.

He pulls a tin out from somewhere in his desk. She doesn’t recognize what’s on it. Some writing she can’t read in this light. It looks like white writing on a dark background.

“Cocoa powder,” he says. “Ishgard may be mostly silent, but nobility demands some lovely goods. This is a precious gift from my younger brother. It’s a ground bean from Vylbrand and—”

“Kukuru milk,” Lin says, interrupting him. “I’m familiar with it, my mother is a skilled alchemist and culinarian.” She tries to smile. “I’m from Vylbrand myself. It’s a treat back in my clan, but not too rare. I hear what’s exported is precious.”

He laughs. She’s not sure if it’s a good laugh or bad one. “Forgive me, I did not know, though I like your term as well. Do you drink it hot there? I imagine it would be quite good iced as well.”

It is. She sometimes misses her clan. But after everything, she was just too busy for the moment. She didn’t even know if it was safe to appear again. After all, the Garleans were after her.

She nods, afraid to speak too much. She always does. “I haven’t had it in some time.” Over five years.

Haurchefant is quiet for a moment. “I suppose I should test my skills with this, then. You must know good hot cocoa, where the beans are fresh.”

Well, he knows how to make her feel more comfortable. “It depends. How special is that tin? Is it just kukuru powder? Or does it mix in some other spices and herbs.”

“Just kukuru, I believe. I’ve heard that merchants want to find a good mix with other spices that keeps. If I ever find it, then it would be quite splendid to try.” He tries her word. That surprises her. He fumbles some, but she would with cocoa. “This is still special though, at least for me. I find mixing some syup in makes it delicious. Please, come with me to the kitchens. You remember, right?”

“I do,” she says. But then she realizes she lost count of her path out. How many doors in hers was. How many flights of stairs up. She can’t remember her room. Perhaps he would know where she would go to? She’s not sure.

A’lin follows him through the chill of the Coerthan night. He doesn’t need to see to make his way. She puts her hand on his back, afraid of getting lost, but pulls back quick. The metal is too cold to keep her hand on for long. Lin tugs her coat sleeves, it’s too cold and she forgot her gloves. Trapping warmth is the best she can come up with.

Haurchefant turns and takes her hand in his. His leather gauntlets are much improved compared to the cold mail. She thinks he smiles.

Lin’s lips curl into a grin. He’s too gentle. Not what she’s expected from Ishgard. Especially not a commander.

He opens the door to the kitchens. It’s lighter than elsewhere, the fire still glowing.

“I need milk, birch syrup, and two mugs,” he says. It’s to himself, not her.

She sees a tin and checks in it. Milk. She doesn’t know how much he needs, but she doubts it’s this much. Maybe if—

He stops her and puts his hand on hers. “You need not help.”

Lin looks as he pours some into a pot. He starts up the fire and puts the pot over it.

“Do you cook often?” she asks.

He shakes his head. Haurchefant grabs a jar of syrup and a spoon, adding a few large spoons full of it to the mix. “Not really. I only know how to make a few things. I’m a son of one of the High Houses, so I was not allowed to learn. I can do some good meat roasting or stews, but more out of necessity. And my mother taught me how to make some—” he stops himself for a second. “Kukuru.”

He just called it that again. Lin blinks. His pronunciation is better. “You needn’t call it that just to make me comfortable. I should know what you mean if you use cocoa instead.”

“No,” he says. He turns to her. “I want to use it. It sounds nice on the tongue. What about you? Did your mother teach you to cook?”

She hasn’t been taught. “Actually, my skills are mostly roasting meat over a spit. I hunted back in clan, and I haven’t had the time to learn more since I left.” She feels embarrassed to admit such a thing.

“Well, hopefully you can find time after all this,” he says. “Once Cid gets his airship back, I’m sure you’ll have time before your next chance comes.”

Lin thinks about it. She probably would have to face Garuda, but there were no plans after that. She can go and learn something far from Levellieur and his future New Scions. Be another face in the crowd again.

“I suppose I can do that. It would be fun. Though, um…” She did not want to talk about herself right now. “Why did you decide to be a knight?”

There’s a spark in Haurchefant’s eye. He sits down by the pot, but looks to her, just for the moment. “I always wanted to be one. There were some great ones I knew. There was no greater honor, no better calling to me than to serve and protect.”

He continues on, telling the story of how he became a knight at seventeen. He mentions his friend. Francel. The one she’s going to help, hopefully. How he saved the man from a kidnapping back then.

Haurchefant seems to be a bit too proud of fighting three armed men with naught but a skinning knife. Granted, such a feat would be one Lin would be just as proud of.

And he rightly earned his knighthood with that act.

When he’s finished with the story, the milk and syrup is just as ready. He lifts the saucepan up and pours the milk into the mugs. Each gets a few spoons of kukuru powder after that, which he mixes vigorously.

“I believe I need not warn you that this is quite hot.” Haurchefant holds out one of the pewter mugs to her, a wide grin on his face.

A’lin has to laugh as she takes the mug he offers. “I am quite aware, ser.” She holds the mug by her chin as she takes a whiff of the kukuru. It’s not the same as freshly pressed back home, but it was similar enough. It was enough like home that she could forget where she was, who she lost.

“So,” he says. “Tell me something. How does one get the role to guard two people who are dear to the other city-states. Even several in Ishgard have respect for these men and their skills.” He looks to his mug. “And just where did you find Cid Garlond? Last I heard, he had disappeared.”

Everything was so complicated. “I did a few things that gathered attention,” she says. “Master Levellieur found me and asked me for my help in his quest. As for Cid—” she shrugs. “I suppose we ran into each other.”

That was true enough. Haurchefant seems quite nice, but she should keep her guard up. For all she knows, Ishgard could have some treaty with Garlemald.

He smiles anyway. “A few things is not enough. Please, tell me more, Mistress Gra’eme.”

Well, it’s hard to deny that smile. The way his eyes plead for a story. “I suppose it started a few months ago, when I arrived in Gridania.” She tells how she got wrapped up in learning about a conspiracy of the Ixal, and even some Isgardian thieves.

“N-not that I think all are,” she says. “Luqelot is quite friendly, and he speaks highly of a For-tom house. Their skill with chocobos.”

At those words, Haurchefant grins. “The Fortemps house, you say? You do know who is in charge of Camp Dragonhead, no?”

She shakes her head. It’s obvious from his own words that he plans to surprise her with that. Far be it for her to deny such a thing. She starts to feel more at ease.

“Lord Edmont Fortemps is the one who Camp Dragonhead belongs to, in theory. In practice, one of his relatives runs it. Day to day.”

Him.

She drinks from her cup, no longer too hot. After she finishes a mouthful, she laughs. “Oh, and who might this relative be?”

“None other than yours truly. I also happen to be one of the best key members of my family with chocobos as well. I believe I met this Luquelot a few times. The name seems familiar.”

She plays at shock. “You? You’re a member of House Fortemps? But your surname…”

He pauses for a moment. His smile fades. “Not all with ties to this house have the name.”

Fair enough, she supposes. Maybe his mother was of the house.

A’lin knows little of it.

She starts back up, with talk of Tam-Tara, and finishes with the fight at the Guardian Tree against the Ixal.

“After that, apparently I impressed the Elder Seedseer. She had some sort of feeling that the Eorzean Alliance need be reforged again, and so I was sent as an emissary.” She takes another few sips, and realizes she’s almost at the end, from the thicker almost sludgelike mixture she gets towards the end. “And then I guess some other things happened. Which caused me to run into Master Garlond and Master Levellieur. I… I think I’m fine now,”

She could go back to sleep. She’s not quite tired. For some reason, she feels more awake. That’s not good.

“But, um—” She doesn’t remember her room. Not even the floor it’s on. It’s near the other rooms, but far be it for her to know which those are either.”

Haurchefant smirks. “But? What is on your mind, Miss?”

What is on his?

“Do you remember my room? I got quite disoriented and can’t find my way back.”

The smirk widens. “Is that an invitation, A’lin?”

An invitation.

“That you forgot your room, so perhaps you could find rest in mine, instead. I am quite willing to let you have your way if that’s the case.”

She blushes. That was most definitely not the intention of her words. Yet that smile, the chocolate. The ear and his own stories. The way he talks.

“I didn’t intend it that way,” she says. “But far be it for me to deny that. If that was hopeful on your part.”

He takes her hand. “Hopeful, yes. So, I suppose it is my own invitation now. My chambers for the night. In case of more issues with your sleep.”

She nods her head as she sets the mug aside.Chocolate and stories are good, but perhaps something else would be much more helpful now.

0 notes

usnewsaggregator-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The Atlantic’s December Issue: “The Making of an American Nazi” Profiles the Disturbing Evolution of Daily Stormer Publisher Andrew Anglin

New Post has been published on http://usnewsaggregator.com/the-atlantics-december-issue-the-making-of-an-american-nazi-profiles-the-disturbing-evolution-of-daily-stormer-publisher-andrew-anglin/

The Atlantic’s December Issue: “The Making of an American Nazi” Profiles the Disturbing Evolution of Daily Stormer Publisher Andrew Anglin

Washington, D.C. (November 14, 2017)—Andrew Anglin’s website, The Daily Stormer, has been called the leading hate site on the internet—and Anglin himself is the alt-right’s most effective propagandist and most vicious troll. But who is Anglin, and how did he develop such a following? The cover story of The Atlantic’s December issue, “The Making of an American Nazi,” takes a riveting and deeply disturbing look into the world of Anglin and the alt-right one year after the election of Donald Trump. Reporter Luke O’Brien spent nearly a year uncovering previously unknown details of Anglin’s past, charting his strange evolution from an antiracist vegan teen in Columbus, Ohio, to a neo-Nazi—including a bizarre foray into a remote jungle in the Philippines. In a companion piece, author Angela Nagle explores the evolution of the alt-right in “Brotherhood of Losers,” asking what drives young men to radicalize in this way, and whether the backlash against the violent protests in Charlottesville, Virginia, will fracture the movement.

Also in this month’s issue: The Atlantic’s Science, Technology, and Health editor, Ross Andersen, journeys to China, where the government has built the world’s largest radio dish for the purpose of detecting extraterrestrial communications; tech writer Alexis Madrigal questions whether we should let children build emotional bonds with robots; and author Leslie Jamison visits the virtual realm of Second Life.

The Atlantic’s December 2017 issue is online in full today and on newsstands this week. A selection of pieces from the issue are linked and summarized below.

COVER & FEATURES

The Making of an American Nazi, by Luke O’Brien Andrew Anglin’s website, The Daily Stormer, has been called the leading hate site on the internet, and Anglin himself is the alt-right’s most effective propagandist and most vicious troll. He “doxes” minorities, women, politicians, members of the LGBTQ community, journalists—publishing their addresses, phone numbers, and emails, and pictures of their spouses and young children—so that the underbelly of the internet can wreak havoc on their lives. And he’s done more than anyone to organize and radicalize a new generation of white supremacists, sometimes with tragic consequences: Dylann Roof, who murdered nine black people in Charleston, South Carolina, was a Daily Stormer reader. Luke O’Brien comes closer than any other journalist in charting Anglin’s bizarre and delusional evolution. Anglin’s story shows that, like many members of the alt-right, he was drawn to white supremacy more for a sense of belonging and status than as a result of any deep ideological conviction. The Atlantic’s cover story is a haunting profile of a violent, deeply disturbed, paradoxical, and at times drug-abusing individual—one who has been emboldened by the election of President Trump. O’Brien writes that during the election, “Suddenly it was okay to talk about banning Muslims or to cast Mexican immigrants as criminals and parasites—which meant Anglin’s even-more-extreme views weren’t as far outside the mainstream as they once had been.” When candidate Trump was asked by CNN about the death threats and harassment leveled by Anglin’s army, Trump’s response was: “I don’t have a message to the fans.”

Brotherhood of Losers, by Angela Nagle The alt-right has offered angry, unmoored men a sense of belonging. But it wasn’t until the events in Charlottesville, Virginia, in August that it leapt from private forums and online chat rooms into a form that most Americans could finally grasp as a real, and unambiguous, political movement. Charlottesville revealed the new movement’s true ugliness, leaving many of its adherents horrified, and once again adrift. Where did the alt-right come from, and what’s next for its fractious ranks? Angela Nagle, who has been observing the evolution of rightist groups for eight years, details the chilling inner workings of this resurgent facet of society, attributing its antiestablishment, antifeminist appeal to a desire for belonging and even trolling for the fun of it.

What Happens If China Makes First Contact?, by Ross Andersen As America has turned away from searching for extraterrestrial life, China has built the world’s largest radio dish for precisely that purpose. And so, if another civilization’s faint radio whispers were to come down in the next decade, China may very well be the first to hear them. The Atlantic’s Science, Technology, and Health editor, Ross Andersen, travels to China to see for himself the enormous dish—which is the size of five football fields and large enough to hold two bowls of rice for every human on Earth—and to ask what the consequences would be were a signal from a distant intelligence to reach our planet. Would China go public with the signal? Would the government respond? Or would China withhold the signal’s origin, even keep it a state secret? Andersen also meets with Liu Cixin, China’s foremost science-fiction writer, with whom the Chinese government consulted on the project. He asks Liu to imagine the Chinese Academy of Sciences calling to tell him that it had found a signal. Liu cautioned against sharing with extraterrestrial life a too-detailed account of human history: “It’s very dark. It might make us appear more threatening.” But, writes Andersen, “I reminded Liu that distant civilizations might be able to detect atomic-bomb flashes in the atmospheres of distant planets, provided they engage in long-term monitoring of life-friendly habitats as any advanced civilization surely would. The decision about whether to reveal our history might not be ours to make.”

The Digital Ruins of a Forgotten Future, by Leslie Jamison Second Life was supposed to be the future of the internet, but then Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram came along. Of the 36 million Second Life accounts that had been created by 2013, only an estimated 600,000 people still regularly use the platform. What happened? In a new report, Leslie Jamison explores the evolution and current state of the world of Second Life (and its future) in an era when social media reign supreme. She observes: “If Second Life promised a future in which people would spend hours each day inhabiting their online identity, haven’t we found ourselves inside it? Only it’s come to pass on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter instead. As I learned more about Second Life, and spent more time exploring it, it started to seem less like an obsolete relic and more like a distorted mirror reflecting the world many of us live in.”

The stories of the people who escape into Second Life, and the world they’ve built, illuminate the promise and limitations of online life. Jamison joins the inhabitants of Second Life, and the more she explores, the more questions the online realm raises “about where unfettered fantasy leads, as well as about how we navigate the boundary between the virtual and the real. As virtual-reality technology grows more advanced, it promises to deliver a more fully realized version of what many believed Second Life would offer: total immersion in another world. And as our actual world keeps delivering weekly horrors … the appeal of that alternate world keeps deepening, along with our doubts about what it means to find ourselves drawn to it.”

DISPATCHES:

My Son’s First Robot, by Alexis Madrigal The Atlantic’s Alexis Madrigal, who covers tech from its epicenter, in Northern California, wrestled with the decision of whether to buy his son a toy robot for his fourth birthday. Would he know what to make of it? Would his little sister destroy it? What are the consequences of inviting into the house a(nother) “smart” thing? The robot, Cozmo, produced by the company Anki, must be fed, repaired, and played with, and can use the full breadth of its animated repertoire to summon particular feelings in its owner and foster emotional bonds. Sure enough, when Cozmo lost a few rounds of a game, it showed frustration, prompting Madrigal’s son to say: “Don’t beat him! You’re making him sad.”

“If you neglect him, you feel the pain of that,” says Anki’s CEO. Madrigal writes: “When he told me this, I felt a flash of not-quite-anger. It seemed almost cruel to design a robot that could play on a young kid’s emotions. And I had never considered that, in the coming human–robot conflagration, robots might take over simply by expertly manipulating us into letting them win.” But this technology is happening. It’s here. Now it becomes a matter of understanding it and its interplay with our world. This leads Madrigal to conclude: “I feel about [robots] as my parents did about computers: It will be necessary to understand these machines to comprehend the world. So now we have our first robot.”

Big In … Turkey: Plaid Jackets Ever since then–Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan voted for himself in a presidential election in 2014 wearing a garish, oversize blue plaid suit jacket, the piece has become a staple of Erdoğan’s wardrobe—and a spreading trend. As Erdoğan has consolidated power, members of his government have begun following not just his political lead but also his fashion cues. Photos of the leader flanked by subordinates, all matching, have gone viral.

Can Unions Stop the Far Right, by Vauhini Vara Angela Merkel’s Christian Democratic Union held strong in the recent elections against its far-right opponents in the Alternative for Germany party—and it was Germany’s working-class voters who may have stopped a full hard-right turn. According to Vauhini Vara, a combination of market forces and a strong social-safety net has kept most people feeling satisfied with their government. Because Germany’s economy is driven by manufacturing exports, a high percentage of citizens work in that sector, and they have become a powerful political constituency anchored by strong unions. German workers’ sense of security and belonging mitigates the fears that have fed right-wing populism elsewhere. Can—and should—the United States learn from Germany’s example?

Conservatism Without Bigotry, by Peter Beinart Is American conservatism inherently bigoted? While the debate over conservatism and bigotry is not new, the argument has become particularly fierce in the age of Donald Trump. As Peter Beinart observes, Trump’s denigrating comments about Mexicans and Muslims, and his equivocal condemnations of white supremacists, have sparked outrage at perceived conservative bigotry, which now animates American liberalism more than it did in preceding administrations. Beinart argues that in order to move forward, Republicans must now reckon with their policies’ racial effects, but liberals also must stop carelessly crying racist. He writes: “Halting the downward spiral will require other politicians to take risks as well. And it will require scores of commentators, activists, and voters to support them when they do. Liberals and conservatives each know the other side is capable of hatred and scorn. They both need to demonstrate that they are capable of empathy and courage, too.”

From the Culture File:

Shark Tank Nation, by Caitlin Flanagan: The genre of capitalist reality television began with our president, who realized years ago that TV contests based on people’s ability to sing, dance, or get along with a houseful of losers on the CBS lot were small-time. According to Caitlin Flanagan, The Apprentice was about winning where it counts: in business. Since then, shows such as the long-running Shark Tank, and the newer and more offbeat The Toy Box and Steve Harvey’s Funderdome, show a mesmerizingly shallow view of American entrepreneurship. Of ABC’s The Toy Box, where a panel of children decide the fate of an inventor’s financial future, Flanagan writes: “There is something exquisitely cruel about watching adults who have literally bet their house on an invention be dismissed by bored kids. She looks creepy!, one little monster said about a doll whose creator—a black woman who had wanted a doll that looked like her own daughter—had spent 30 years and more than $300,000 trying to bring it to market.”

Books: The Rise and Fall of Rolling Stone, by Rich Cohen: Jann Wenner, the longtime editor of Rolling Stone, traded the hippie dream for pop-star friends and luxury. One witness to the early days of the magazine, as they devolved into out-of-control excess, was Rich Cohen, who was supposed to have written Wenner’s autobiography on three separate occasions—. Cohen has praise for Sticky Fingers, the biography of Wenner by New York magazine’s Joe Hagan, even if he feels Wenner’s charm and spirit are lost in this definitive telling. He writes: “It’s the book I could never have written. I know too little and sympathize too much. I like Wenner, and Hagan is remorseless … A funny thing happens when a part of your life becomes official history. No matter how good that history is, the writer can’t help getting a crucial aspect wrong. All the facts might be correct, but the spirit is lost. The effect is like a body without a soul.”

Books: Inventing John Wayne, by Stephen Metcalf: In the new book Wayne and Ford: The Films, the Friendship, and the Forging of an American Hero, Nancy Schoenberger argues that “the masculine ideal, as championed by Ford and embodied by Wayne, is still salvageable, honorable even.” But this is not the whole story, writes Stephen Metcalf in his review of the book. “Schoenberger has hidden a provocative thesis inside a Christmas present for Dad. She asks us to remember the beauty of masculine self-mastery as Ford presented it in his very best films. And yet, from the bulk of the evidence here, masculinity (like the Western) is a by-product of nostalgia, a maudlin elegy for something that never existed—or worse, a masquerade that allows no man, not even John Wayne, to be comfortable in his own skin.” Metcalf continues: “Schoenberger makes the case that we are confused about masculinity because we cannot accept men like Wayne as heroes. In flight from machismo, we have largely given up on adult male self-mastery. But isn’t it also true that, allowed at last to be confused about masculinity, we no longer accept men like Wayne as heroes?”

With the holiday season quickly approaching, the December issue’s Big Question asks: “What was the most significant event to happen on a holiday?” The 1914 Christmas Truce of World War I, the Yom Kippur War, and Alexander Graham Bell filing his patent application for the telephone on Valentine’s Day in 1876 are a few of the most historic happenings—as told by historians, authors, and Atlantic readers.

###

Original Article:

Click here

0 notes