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preciouslandmermaid · 8 months ago

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of songbirds, swords, and spice (5)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw/cw: alcohol/drinking

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

<- (previous chapter)

The Going Merry glittered beneath the night sky. A rich, flavorful aroma wafted across the cool breeze from the kitchen, but Sanji assured everyone that dinner wasn’t ready yet. Zoro downed his third—or was it his seventh?–cup of sake. Your skin buzzed. Your heart rate was erratic. You drank slower than everyone else and wondered idly if they’d start spilling all their secrets. Luffy seems too earnest for secrets, you thought with a measured glance at the captain of the Straw Hats. Nami on the other hand...Your eyes flickered to her while you refilled Usopp’s cup. Nami’s wary trust and frank pragmatism reminded you of yourself, which meant she couldn’t have had a childhood of kittens and roses. Sanji approached, carrying appetizers for you and her.

“Dinner is going to take a little longer than I expected,” he said smoothly, “but I couldn’t bear the thought of you starving on my account.”

Nami rolled her eyes as you reached for a flaky, triangular pastry. You had one more day of Sanji’s cooking and wouldn't waste it. If the winds stayed true, then the Straw Hats would leave Nightingale Island by tomorrow afternoon. They’d become a story you’d repeat to Clover, Aiden, and the other children at the orphanage. ‘Tell us again’, they’d cry, tell us about the Straw Hats!’. You bit into the pastry, and its crumbs caught your lower lip.

Luffy asked, “Where are my appetizers?!”

“Ah.” Sanji clicked his tongue. “They’re cooking. I wanted Nami and—” he looked at you, gaze dropping to your mouth momentarily, and a flush tinged his high cheekbones. “Well, let’s just say they’re better when they’re fresh.” He looked away and cleared his throat. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and flicked away the loose crumbs.

“Stop playing favorites, cook!” Zoro yelled from across the table.

“I’m not playing favorites.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Does anyone else feel like it’s unfair that the captain didn’t get to try them first?” said Luffy, holding one finger up. Before anyone could argue further, or make complaints, you grabbed one of the pastries and held it out to Luffy.

“He never said we couldn’t share,” you said.

“Oh.” Luffy smiled and plucked the pastry from your fingertips. “Thanks!”

You didn’t miss Sanji’s relieved, grateful smile. Nor did you miss the sudden, fluttery swoop of your stomach. You knocked your drink back, and let the harsh rice wine hit your throat with an uncomfortable, hot splash. You coughed, your eyes watering, and Zoro smirked at you. You sharpened your blurry gaze into a glare. The background conversation muddled and fell away. Zoro filled your vision, taking up too much space, his dark eyes awakening something slumbering inside your lower abdomen.

“What?” You weren’t going to let him mock you, the cocky bastard.

“Seems like someone can’t hold her liquor,” Zoro said. His index finger mindlessly trailed over the rim of his cup before drawing away and gripping the neck of the sake bottle. You swallowed your sore throat.

“I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you,” you replied and ignored the hoarse croak of your voice. You wiggled your fingers as you held out your hand for the bottle. Zoro’s dark eyes dropped from your face, and so did your stomach. His gaze lingered on your fingertips, the digits softly curled in supplication.

“Sure.” He scoffed. “We’ll see.” Despite his doubtful tone, he passed the sake bottle, and you were careful to ensure your fingers didn’t brush along his.

“I’m not rising to the bait, Zoro. I’d be an idiot to get drunk around strangers.”

He tilted his head and the orange-white bulbs hanging from the sailing rigging flashed his golden earring. “We’re strangers?”

You shrugged and didn’t drink. “Close enough, right?”

“We’ve fought together three times.” He refilled Luffy’s cup for him. “I fought alongside Luffy once before joining his crew.”

You couldn’t understand Zoro’s words. Was he seriously that drunk? Fighting together didn’t automatically equate to loyalty or friendship. Once, you saw Marines fighting alongside rebel fighters against a common enemy, but the Marines returned to arresting the rebels once the mutual thread was gone. You couldn’t imagine a world where Zoro of all people wanted you to join the Straw Hats. You blinked slowly.

“Are you trying to ask me to join you?”

“No,” Zoro said while crossing his arms.

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’re not strangers.”

“Because we fought together?”

He nodded. His eyes were cast toward the heavens and you frowned. If this was how Zoro made friends then it was no wonder he traveled with this motley crew. There was no friendship between you. Estella hired them. You were the babysitter for this job because she trusted you more than she trusted a handful of inexperienced pirates. Friendship and loyalty? No. No way.

“I could betray you,” you reminded him, “take the box and tell my grandmother that everyone died while we were collecting it.”

“You won’t.”

You cringed, and hot, prickly heat pooled within your cheeks and along your throat. How dare he presume to know you? Okay, he was right, you had no intention or desire to harm any of the Straw Hats. Still, he shouldn’t know. He shouldn’t. You drank and didn’t cough. Zoro’s mouth twitched. Your silence was proof for him. Proof of your loyalty, your compassion, and the tentative bond forged between you. You needed to clear this up.

“How do you know?” you snapped, “you were the one who threatened to chop me into little pieces if I betrayed you!”

Zoro’s lips thinned. Hah! I win! You thought, your shoulders lifted. You had overreacted – Zoro didn’t know you. He was spouting bullshit to try to get under your skin because he was drunk.

You reached for the last pastry, but Zoro snatched it before your fingers touched the thin, airy crust.

“The cave,” he said lowly with his eyes locked onto yours, “you wouldn’t have survived the drop.”

The heat returned and simmered. Your words had been impulsive, half-formed by your worries for the lack of treasure, and reeling from the adrenaline spent from the fight on the beach. Would you have let go of Luffy’s hand? You bit your lower lip. You didn’t want to die, but you also didn’t want any of them to die for Estella’s treasure hunt. If anyone had to be sacrificed for Estella’s sake, it had to be you, and no one else.

“So what?”

“Doesn’t sound like the action of someone willing to betray her allies.”

“You’re reading into it.” You shook your head. “I didn’t want Luffy to fall into the cavern with me, that’s it. I didn’t think he could keep holding onto me.” The Straw Hat captain was surprisingly strong.

“Whatever you say.”

Annoyed by Zoro’s nonchalant perception of your character, you stood, and grabbed the sake bottle, smirking.

“Hey!”

“Get your own,” you quipped before ascending the steps to join Nami at the upper deck. She knelt beneath the tangerine trees with a large map sprawled before her. Her head lifted at your quiet approach and your hand tightened around your small cup and you offered Nami a tight, awkward smile.

“Zoro,” you said, waving your hand vaguely by manner of explanation. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Nami smiled. “He’s not so bad.”

You huffed and sat cross-legged beside her. You weren’t inclined to agree with her. Zoro was strong, and a capable fighter, but his social skills needed work. Hell, even when fighting, he managed to annoy you. He bumped into you, pushing you out of the way of an attack without asking, and he made reckless attacks by jumping at vicious, deadly spider-women. You set the sake bottle between you and Nami.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the map to the Grand Line.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Isn’t it always?” She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, I heard what you said on the beach about your dream.” Her eyes turned to Luffy, standing on top of a barrel and laughing, and her smile softened. “I know what it feels like to have an impossible dream, but traveling with Luffy has taught me that some dreams...you can’t accomplish them on your own.”

Your heart pounded into your ribs. You knew Luffy’s dream—he never shut up about it and announced it to everyone, it was a point of pride for him. Sanji shared his dream with you, his thread of connection with his savior and mentor, Zeff. But, everyone else on the ship was a mystery. It’s my last night with them, you thought, I might as well learn all I can. It’ll be good for the stories.

You asked, “What’s your dream?”

The tangerine trees rustled overhead, the sharp citrus scent mingled with the mouth-watering scents coming from the kitchen below. Nami rubbed her hand over the tattoo on her shoulder.

“It started with Arlong,” she said. She shared her story, about Arlong’s deal, and how he betrayed her after she had collected enough berry. You listened, your heart twisting and tugging into strange shapes inside your chest. Usopp said the Straw Hats defeated Arlong, but he hadn’t told Nami’s side of the story, and you found yourself emphasizing with her. You knew what it was like to work for someone you despised, to be trapped, and you knew what it was like to be removed from your home. You angled your gaze downward, toward the map of the Grand Line, and blinked away the burning, sharp prickle behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said after her story was finished. “I’m glad you were able to escape from him.”

“Me too.” Her fingers smoothed across the map. “What’s your dream?” she asked quietly, “is it really so impossible?”

Nami’s bright orange hair brushed along her pale cheeks in the wind, her expression was thoughtful and kind, and you didn’t think she’d pressure you to say anything if you didn’t want to. Your eyes followed the swooping design of her tattoo. A symbol of her freedom, of reclaiming her destiny, and navigating her life without abuse and control. You closed your eyes. You saw the endless blue waters, stretching forever, and the shadows that loomed over the islands and pulling the invisible strings. But then you thought of Nami. Brave, determined Nami, a child willing to chain herself to Arlong to work for her home’s freedom. A hundred million berries – an impossible dream. Yet, she had collected the berry, and with the help of Luffy and the others, they removed Arlong’s influence from Cocoyasi village. And now Nami was free to chase her true dream of creating a map of the world.

You had always believed your dream was unattainable. However, this conversation with Nami set you off-kilter, and a tangerine-shaped seed of doubt took root in your stomach.

You said, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” Nami said carefully, “you just need friends to help you.”

For the second time, one of the Straw Hats implied friendship with you, and your heart skipped at the idea. How can we be friends, you thought bitterly, when you’re going to leave in a few hours? You'd never see them again once the Straw Hats passed into the Grand Line.

“Are we friends?” you asked.

“Don’t know.” She held up her glass to you. “I’d like to be.”

You lifted your cup and knocked the side against Nami’s. “Me too.”

After dinner, you returned to the upper deck to sit among the tangerine trees and clear your head. You laid on your back, arms crossed and pillowing your head, and watched the stars float aimlessly by as the Going Merry drifted through the calm, dark-gray waters. Your heart had fluctuated between heavy and light. You liked the Straw Hats, but you couldn’t stay with them. Estella needed you. How would the Golden Cupid survive without you? It couldn’t! Your devil-fruit powers allowed Estella’s business to rake in more berry than they ever could through regular performances. You trailed your fingers across your throat, ghosting along your collarbones, feeling the slight pebble of goosebumps beneath your fingertips. Your voice was your greatest weapon and your greatest asset. I can’t stay on a boat, either. The ocean sapped your strength. Estella needed you, the children needed you, and you couldn’t leave them to chase your dream.

Nami’s story, so similar to your own, was an outlier. Most people don’t get to achieve their dreams. You lifted Pandora's ivory box from your pocket and held it aloft in front of your nose, except Estella. Her dream is complete once we deliver this. The ivory surface absorbed the moonlight, turning the angles and divots along the carved surface into luminescent cracks. Estella never wanted to solve the puzzle boxes. She said there was no point. ‘Pandora wouldn’t hide berry in them,’ she said once, ‘they’re too small.’ You figured her desire to have the boxes wasn’t about berry but about the prestige of having something that once belonged to a famous, female pirate.

The wooden floorboards creaked. “There you are,” Sanji said, “care for company?”

You sat up. “Sure.” It’s our last night together.

“I have a personal question,” Sanji said, sitting next to you, though you noticed he was careful and gave you space. “If you don’t mind humoring me…”

Down below, Luffy shouted, “Guys! We have a cat!” He held Mimi from under her front paws, her lower body swaying as he twirled around, and you were surprised that she tolerated it. She never let you pick her up. Oh, Luffy. You chuckled under your breath and shook your head. I wonder if Mimi will stay with them.

“What’s your favorite dish?” Sanji asked, lifting one leg and resting his wrist on his knee. His lighter sparked and illuminated his profile in a brief, flickering glow, his pale eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks, and his lips pinching to hold the cigarette between them.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m a chef,” he said, exhaling smoke. “And I want to make you something special for tomorrow to celebrate.”

A swarm of butterflies hatched inside your stomach. You quelled your desire to smile, at his thoughtfulness, and the sight of his longer fingers tucking his lighter into his pocket. You toyed with the puzzle box, passing it back and forth between your hands, and watched the dark, green tangerine leaves rather than continue to stare at Sanji.

“What if you’ve never heard of it?”

“Describe it to me in detail.”

You squinted at him. “And you’ll just – what? – figure it out?”

“More or less,” he said, then smiled.

You asked him to give you a few minutes to think. Your favorite dish? You had plenty of foods you liked, plenty of dishes you’ve tried from years of traveling and being on the run with Estella, from street food that dripped over your fingers to expensive cuisine that you could barely pronounce. Your thumb flicked over the puzzle box’s corner.

“Before I…” You stopped yourself, unable to complete the sentence with honesty, and licked your lips. “Before I worked for someone, we had this cake every year during the Festival of Limitless Water,” you said, “we had all these rivers that ran through the mountains.” You made a swooping gesture, following the memory of hills and streams, and your heart hardened to lead.

“Anyway.” You cleared your throat and were well aware of Sanji’s focused, blue eyes on you. “They’d make them in the shape of fish, and fill them with red bean paste, or custard, or…” You trailed off and realized you couldn’t remember what they tasted like.

The act of remembering your home, your past, felt like razors clawing up your throat. You were barely seven when you left the Yama Archipelago. You remembered it in pieces. The clouds that swelled and wrapped around the mountains like heavy blankets, the fish-shaped cake warm inside your hands, the yellow paint on your childhood door, your parents–

“Keep going,” Sanji said, breaking your trail of thought before you spiraled. “Was it flaky and layered? Or flat?”

“It wasn’t flaky. Sometimes, when it was warmer, we’d eat ice cream from inside of them.”

Sanji nodded. “If it could hold its’ shape, then they must’ve used molds.”

“Probably?” You shrugged. “But, if that’s the case, then I don’t know where you’d find the mold before everyone leaves tomorrow.”

“I’ll improvise.”

You sighed, twisting the puzzle box in your hands. Sanji wouldn’t be able to make the dessert before everyone left. You knew it. He knew it. But for now, beneath the starlight and swaying lights, you would pretend that he’d fulfill his promise—and that you’d see one another again. The smoke trailed out of Sanji’s lips, faint and blue-tinged.

“What’s yours?” You asked, watching the smoke curl into faint wisps before they dissolved.

“Spicy seafood pasta.”

“I should’ve made my paella spicier then,” you said. Who’s cooking for Estella if I’m not there? You hoped she wasn’t worried about you, or Mimi. You hoped she was looking after herself.

“It was perfect as is.”

The nape of your neck tingled, and a flush of hot and cold danced through your veins.

“Thanks.”

“But I’m always available for private lessons,” he said, “if you ever want to advance your culinary prowess.”

“Right.” You laughed. “I’ll just come find the Going Merry in the middle of the East Blue and take you up on the offer.”

“Or you could stay,” Sanji offered gently, his voice a whisper on the smoky, tangerine-scented wind.

“I can’t.” Your reply was quick and pointed. “Estella needs me.”

Sanji of all people should understand your predicament. You wouldn’t abandon her.

“I thought the same about Zeff, but then he reminded me that spending my life at the Baratie was foolish. I was meant to find the All Blue for the both of us.”

You held up the puzzle box, admiring the fine craftsmanship, and said, “What happens after you accomplish your dream?”

Will Estella be content to place this puzzle box among the others? Your dream wasn’t attainable, but hers, Luffy's, Nami's, and Sanji’s dreams were. Where did the passion go once the dream was fulfilled? Sanji held his long, dexterous fingers out to you in a silent request and you wordlessly passed the puzzle box to him. You watched as he attempted to open it, but nothing worked. A little furrow worked its way into Sanji’s brow before he gave up and held it back out to you.

“You find a new one,” he said quietly.

#fic: songbirds swords and spice #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x sanji #poly fic #zoro x sanji x reader #opla fanfic #one piece live action fanfic #zoro x you #sanji x you

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 9 months ago

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ooooooo what’s poor kids supper club????

Thank you for the ask, lovely anon!

I don't really remember plotting out "poor kids supper club," so odds are I did it in October, during the fever dream that was writing the Promptening. I think I meant for it to be one of the Promptening chapters, but it grew legs and horns and I just set it to the side.

Here's what that doc file contains (still mostly point-form notes):

Muggle AU; basing this on the Canadian university system, as that’s the one I have experience with Harry sees that Ron is struggling to afford tuition, rent and meals, even with a part-time job and needs-based bursaries, wants to help him out but knows Ron will turn down any direct attempt at assistance (he has before). Potter parents died in a house fire (James from part of the house falling on him, Lily of smoke inhalation from getting Harry and getting outside) and, due to mismanagement, the Dursleys took the insurance payout for the house - Still mistreated Harry (because they're trash like that) But Harry has some money that his parents set aside for his education, a portion of the insurance payout from his parents’ deaths available to him, and the rest – as well as his modest inheritance – will become available to him once he turns twenty-five, as well as a full-ride scholarship (probably for ⚽), so he’s comfortable. Not absurdly wealthy, but he can afford to be generous. He’s frugal due to his years of starving with the Dursleys – he doesn’t ever want to be at someone else’s financial mercy again. He also knows what it’s like to be the poor, hungry one and not have anyone else to rely on, and he doesn’t want anyone else to feel that way. His godfather also left him a big, totally-not-haunted fixer-upper house when he passed away, so Harry has a place to host these get-togethers – a giant kitchen and huge dining room. So Harry posts a few signs around campus, especially near the financial aid office, offering dinner to anyone, no questions asked. They just have to give him a couple hours notice, and if they let him know at least a day ahead of time, they can make food requests. So he drags Ron and Hermione over as often as possible to feed them, and sometimes they’re joined by another person or three, and it becomes something of a supper club. Draco shows up at some point because it’s popular/because Potter/to mock the poor people, and Harry says “really?” and Malfoy answers “You said no questions!” To which Harry shrugs and says “as long as you behave yourself, you can stay.” Tom becomes a fixture, because while he has scholarship money coming out his ears and a part-time job (because he’s not super challenged by the material and has enough time for it), he’s also trying to run with the rich kids, so any extra money he has goes towards better clothes and accoutrements. - Plus, if some idiot’s going to be altruistic enough to feed him for free, he’s going to take advantage of that It becomes popular enough that Harry institutes a pay-what-you-can-if-you-can policy (looking at you, Malfoy) Turns into a whole thing, where people help each other out academically and they all do homework together, a support group during midterms and finals and when someone’s having a rough day, they have games nights and go on outings together, and there are groups within the group. If people need a place to stay, they can apply to have one of the rooms in Harry’s fuck-off house for free (as long as they help keep it clean) Harry basically becomes low-key financial aid for his peers, and they think he’s the coolest, and he has no idea.

Yet another meandering, slice-of-life Flaky fic in the making (•ᴗ•,, )

(I just want them all to be warm and happy and eat together and probably cuddle-puddle together. My needs are simple.)

If anyone wants me to actually flesh this out and write it, feel free to include suggestions of what you'd like to see in it, too!

#tomarry #golden trio #slice of life #ensemble cast #poor kids supper club #asks #WIP game

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forestwater87 · 2 years ago

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A Wall of Text About My OCs

Hi, guys! Uhhhh . . . long time, no see, huh?

Yeah, I got no excuse. I mean, I’ve got tons of excuses -- new job, new partner, moving out of my parents’ basement finally -- but still. Sorry for being gone.

*blows dust off the mic* Anyone still out here?

OKAY, so why am I doing this of all things? Because I was reunited with a handful of the Camp Camp people still around and they got to sharing their gorgeous OC art and I . . . do not draw. But I do write! And it turns out, writing about your fanfiction is a whole lot easier than actually writing that fanfiction.

So I can pretend I’m being productive and writing up a reference for future fic writing, while actually just rambling about my OCs like a total dork. Unedited, because this is a bajillion words and took me forever.

Anyway, have ya missed me?

Max’s family

Gotcha with that opener, huh? Yeah, I know how to manipulate the fandom after all these years. ;)

Anyway, I think I’ve been fairly vocal about how little patience I have for the whole “Max’s family is abusive and neglectful and totes evil you guys, David should adopt him” thing, which means I went in a different direction. I don’t have a ton on his parents -- I know their names are Reyansh and Anika Sahni, and in terms of personality his dad is more bombastic and his mom is a bit quieter and gentler, but that’s about it -- but I’ve determined that they immigrated from India (where in India? Fuck, idk, I’m an idiot someone suggest a place) and have been working to the bone to get Max a foothold. Their English is decent but spotty because learning languages is really hard as an adult, better spoken than written, which is why they allowed Max to choose his own camp activity (which he didn’t do, because he didn’t want to go in the first place and yes this contradicts things I’ve written in the past shhh we’d only had 1 season at that point), and that combined with their 12-hour-a-day work schedules leaves him thinking they don’t care about him. They do, obviously, but it’s hard to express that when exhausted and struggling.

So Max is kind of a latchkey kid, sent to camp in the summer because it’s better than being left alone in an apartment and Camp Campbell is the best they could afford. Max resents them a lot, partly because he doesn’t really understand everything they’re sacrificing for him and partly because he doesn’t think they’re focusing on the right things; does it matter if he can go to a shitty summer camp if he never eats dinner with both his parents at the same time? Sometimes he lies and says they’re super wealthy and that’s why they’re such workaholics, but it’s mostly to get past the embarrassment of feeling neglected and not having anything special to show for it. But they love him and are doing their best, even if it’s far from perfect, and when Max gets older he’ll understand and appreciate them a bit more.

[Spoilers for my own fic, I guess?] His parents die in a car accident when he’s a teenager -- I haven’t decided when or where, but have in previous one-shots written it as on their way to get him from camp -- and he moves in with his sister. And oh boy, let me introduce you to . . .

Kayla Sahni: A beautiful firebrand with a lot of ideas and virtually no follow-through. She’s around 10 years older than Max, and when he was little they were absolutely best friends. She has a rebellious and revolutionary streak, and would take him to various protests or to graffiti police stations or whatever -- wildly irresponsible, yes, but that’s something she never grows out of. In some ways she’s similar to David, with a streak of optimism a mile wide and a bright, peppy personality of someone that never lets anything get her down, but she’s also incredibly flaky, promising Max all sorts of things as a kid and never following through on them. Her parents often need to rescue her from her bad decisions, with the little money and time they have, leaving Max to feel even more ignored in comparison to his sister. Still, he idolizes Kayla and never blames her for anything that disappoints him, choosing David and his parents as repositories for the resentment and disappointment he gets from her. After their parents die and she has to take him in, Kayla doesn’t change her lifestyle much, still disappearing on random adventures without any warning and leaving Max to fend for himself, and it grates on him just as much as he wishes he could be like and go along with her. She loves her brother -- but really, she loves the idea of him, or the little-kid version of him that lives in her head, who never asked her for anything and hung on every word. Once she has to grapple with spending actual time with the real Max, the conflict between who they are and who they want their sibling to be makes things . . . incredibly messy.

Gwen's family

For the Santos clan, I went with a very Long-Island-elites vibe, extremely wealthy and self-conscious about appearances, which means that Gwen is kind of a mega disappointment (and David even more so, when they meet him). New-money, with the dad definitely a first- or second-gen immigrant, and despite the fact that they made it real big they're still extremely aware of being out of place and in a precarious position. Everyone in this family is terrible at hugging and/or doesn’t understand the point of doing it. All in either law or business . . . and then there's Gwen. Oops.

She spent her childhood being perfectly molded into a little debutante doll (I haven't mentioned it in any fics, but she's a virtuoso pianist from years of being forced to take lessons, and might be good at ballet too?), and as soon as she went to college she fell hard into the boho-hippie-artiste lifestyle as a way of rebelling -- dated a lot of starving artists covered in tattoos, picked majors her parents would never have allowed (which is why she had to pay for her own education and is the only one of the family mired in student debt), the whole shtick.

Cliché, maybe, but I think it's fun and developed all of this back when Season 1 had just finished and all we had to go on was her DESPERATELY not wanting to move back in with her parents.

So, from oldest to youngest:

Harrison: the patriarch. Written well before the episode where she had a canon dad so do not judge me too hard. My description of him makes me laugh so have it word-for-word: ``Harrison Santos was a broad-shouldered Hispanic man almost as large as Mr. Campbell, with tiny glasses perched daintily on his nose and a head as smooth and shiny as an apple. He peered down at David through his glasses, which made his dark purple (almost black) eyes seem much larger and more intimidating.`` Big guy, little glasses; it's always funny. He's a man of few words and lots of judgement. Silent but deadly, you know? I went kinda HAM with the "big scary dad" stereotype, but I needed David to feel entirely inadequate and that helped. He and Gwen don't really have a relationship, partly because he spends so much time working and mostly because they don't understand each other even a little bit and have nothing to talk about. Doesn't much like David, but not for any real reason; maybe because he's not masculine enough, maybe because he's white, definitely because he might be the reason Gwen's still working at that shithole of a camp. (At least David isn't covered in tats and piercings, though. Small mercy.)

Valerie: Extremely beautiful dark-skinned black woman with maroon hair and silver eyes. Some sort of business executive, never thought too hard about what kind. Agonizingly proper, gives off vibes of being the decision-maker in the family, and while she loves Gwen and wants what's best for her, they strongly disagree on what that actually is. Valerie would love nothing more than for her youngest daughter to get a job in a respectable law or accounting firm, marry someone from a good background, and secure the family's legacy, and she's terrified of Gwen ruining her life and/or their reputation. She thinks Gwen is overemotional and irrational and it permeates every conversation they try to have; she's pretty concerned David is a gold-digger, as well, and even if he isn't, playing in the dirt for pennies is a pretty humiliating occupation.

Samson (Sam/Sammy): Gwen's oldest brother. Ngl I have very little about him except that he's a nice guy, which is kinda rare in Gwen's family so that's kinda noteworthy. Dark-skinned like their mother, curly green-black hair that he keeps out of his face with a barette, very deep voice. I know Gwen was really close with him and his wife/kids before they moved across the country, and she's had trouble losing one of her only allies in the family.

Leon (Lee): Sam's fraternal twin. Kinda a shithead -- actually, no, definitely a shithead. Disaster bisexual; his major interactions with Gwen so far have been stealing one of her boyfriends, humiliating David at a family gathering, and flying out to Camp Campbell to try and get them back together after they broke up because he thought it was his fault and felt bad about it. A really successful accountant, but in his personal life he's a total playboy and never seems to take anything all that seriously. He loves Gwen, in his own way, but he's honestly too selfish to really be a good brother to her at all. Thinks every life decision she's ever made is absolutely hilarious, and has no problem telling her and the rest of the family that; every misfortune she has is another episode in the Gwennie's Fuckups Show, which is his favorite. Has a perpetual smirk. Dark green curly hair, lavender eyes, and more of a family resemblance to Gwen than probably any of her other siblings in terms of facial structure and mannerisms. In some AUs, where Gwen’s family lives in Sleepy Peak instead of NYC, Lee is Dirty Kevin’s high school boyfriend; their breakup wasn’t pretty.

Audree (Dree): An angel. My wife. I would die for her. Okay, no, let’s try to be serious here . . . Audree’s the only other daughter in the family, and Gwen’s big sister. She’s a successful lawyer with a killer fashion sense and generally stays out of trouble, which means she attracts a lot less negative attention than Gwen ever could and is considered something of the golden daughter. She’s a lesbian and definitely a bit of a flirt, but also the type who ends up perpetually bouncing back between “extremely serious relationship” and “single forever.” Extremely charismatic, but she’s also kind of harsh and terrible at being gentle or warm, and a bit of a snob -- not in a cruel way, but in a blind-to-her-own-privilege way that gets her in trouble sometimes with the eventual woman she falls in love with (more on her in a moment). Teal eyes, relatively dark, and I just realized I never assigned her a hair color. Since the rest of the family’s are either reddish or green (Christmas colors!), I’ll go with a fun, fiery red, kind of like Gwen’s lighter shade of hair.

Christopher: Literally a non-entity. Sometimes I forget he’s there, oops. His only contribution to the story is that he went off to California to run a surf shop and Sam eventually went along with him. Maybe I’ll give him a personality someday, but right now he mostly exists as “the other fuckup beside Gwen” in their family’s eyes.

Eric: Another virtual nonentity, but one I’ve put a weird amount of thought in. He’s basically a carbon copy of his mother -- very put-together, prim, fastidiously perfect -- despite looking more like his dad (in terms of skin tone and eye color, anyway; he’s very willowy, not buff). He’s very feminine, bordering on foppish, but definitely not gay; I haven’t decided if he’s bi (like every other character I get my hands on) or just a fairly girly straight guy, but either way he’s really self-conscious about it. Probably would resent David for reminding him of that, because let’s be real, David isn’t exactly the most masc person in the world either. His only sense of humor is a cruel one, and he’s always been and probably always will be a hell of a bully -- not the beating-people-up Nurf kind, but in a subtler, mean-girl way. If you cross him, he’ll probably get you fired, is what I’m saying. He’d have made an excellent Woodscout if his family hadn’t signed him up for something more prestigious. Staunch Republican, snooty, and while he worships and idolizes his parents, I’m not sure he actually loves anyone. Of all of Gwen’s siblings, Eric is probably the one with the fewest redeeming qualities, but sometimes it’s fun to have a villain waiting in the wings in case I need him.

And then there’s poor little Gwennie. Doing her best.

David’s family

I’ve talked about the Pine/Greenwoods in the past, but I can’t find the post so let’s do it again!

David’s family is a lot smaller than Gwen’s -- at the moment it’s just him and his mom, though his dad has intermittently been in and out of the picture. His parents got divorced when he was 14 (right after Jasper died, which was pretty rough on poor Davey), and since then he’s maybe seen his father once or twice? His mom basically raised him, and they’re absurdly close.

Harvey Greenwood: Another villain! He has aggressive Cameron Campbell vibes, but happens to be an even bigger monster. He got Cynthia pregnant when he was 30 and she was 17 -- ew, gross, very bad -- and married her as soon as she graduated high school. They managed to keep things together until David was a teenager, at which point all illusions of a stable relationship shattered and he took off. David knows he’s married and has a family, and periodically receives birthday cards (never on his birthday, never the correct age, and always addressed to Cynthia’s house because he can’t be bothered to remember where David lives), but otherwise his dad is AWOL. He’s the American to David’s half-American nationality, and while David inherited his bright red hair and green eyes, that’s about all they have in common. I just like big, masculine dads, I guess, because he’s also built like a Campbell -- I think it’s fun to mess with David’s sense of inferiority on that regard, because I’m cruel -- and has a big ol’ mustache. I did realize too late that this does sound like a jacked-up version of Harvey from Stardew Valley, and I feel terrible about it. SDV Harvey deserves better.

Cynthia Pine: A sweet Canadian cinnamon roll who’s never done anything wrong in her life, and never will. She’s a librarian in a middle school, so she’s very used to handling difficult people and is generally tough as nails, but with a sunshiny bubbliness that she passed on to David; she taught him how to smile in the face of everything going wrong, and is his biggest inspiration and hero. Like I mentioned, she was just a kid when she got married and had David, and her marriage was far from a happy one -- with all the affairs, neglect, and gaslighting Harvey did, it was probably in some ways a relief when he finally left, even if it meant she had to go from a stay-at-home mom to a breadwinner. She worked a lot after the divorce, meaning that David had to take on a lot of the household responsibilities and she didn’t get to spend as much time with him as either of them would’ve liked, but they’re still extremely close despite it, in an “us against the world” kind of way. She’s fiercely protective of her son, and while she likes Gwen and would never say a word against her, she’s definitely not comfortable trusting anyone the way David is. Which she considers a success, because she wants nothing more than for David to go through life having the joy and innocence she didn’t get to. Anyway, she’s real little, very young, with childlike features, lots of freckles, and thin blonde hair like duck fluff. She’ll kill you, don’t get me wrong, but she’d never get convicted because she’s so sweet and gentle-looking.

In addition to the actual family, we have David’s “family”:

Father Ray: Listen, I was going through an existential crisis during 2018 or so, and I needed to work out my religious angst with a non-homophobic religious figure. Therefore, we have a priest of one of those rainbow-flag churches, who took David in when he was young (his mom is very religious) and basically kept him from self-destructing without a father figure. I don’t have much to say about him, except that he was kinda there when I needed a non-shitty Christian in my own life. He probably won’t be in the story again, but I have a soft spot towards him anyway.

Julia Winters: Ohhhh boy, it’s our best girl. Julia’s technically not an OC in the classic sense -- there was a picture in Season 1 that showed David and Jasper as little campers:

And there’s a purple-haired girl that @hopefullypessimistic84 adopted and made her own -- but it doesn’t matter because I want to talk about her, she’s perfect. (I feel like I’ve mentioned her in the past, but I seriously can’t find any of my old posts because Tumblr is the worst, so here we are.)

Julia, Jasper, and David all met during their first year of camp; I think Julia and Jasper were closer in the beginning because Jasper was Camper Extraordinaire and Julia was actually kind of excited about camp at first . . . Eventually she realized that camping sucked and befriended David, and at some point David and Jasper were thrown together and they became their own little problem trio. They’re all only children, so they considered each other siblings, and though Jasper and Davey’s relationship would obviously change (whether he dies or not), they’d always consider Julia their little sister. Her primary nicknames for David are Sunshine and Red.

She’s an ace lesbian and very uncomfortable around pretty girls. As she gets older she picks up somewhat more of a punk aesthetic, with a motorcycle and a bomber jacket, and gets a career in corporate photography that takes her all over the world. Despite this extremely cool veneer, she cannot stay even remotely chill if a woman flirts with her, and it’s quite cute. She’s somewhere between fat and buff, and could probably easily pick David up and put him over her shoulder. Eventually she’ll meet and fall in love with Gwen’s sister, Audree (probably at gwenvid’s wedding), and it’ll be . . . a little bit awkward, partly because she has no patience for the Santos family and partly because she grew up poor, and she and Dree have some friction over general culture clash. But at the end of the day they’re still an incredibly powerful couple that belong on the cover of the world’s gayest magazine and love each other very much and make me cry.

Anyway, I hope I didn’t forget any major OCs . . . though obviously if I did they can’t have been that important.

I know there are a couple exes of Gwen’s who are especially fun -- like Greg the creepy stalker and Damien, the ex who slept with Lee and then gave her a mannequin head as an apology -- and her roommate Claire gets like two sentences but is an adorable stoner with the personality of a teddy bear, but I think these are the important ones.

Sure wish I could draw literally any of them, though. Sigh.

#campcamp #cc max #cc gwen #cc david #this doesn't deserve to go in the main tags #i don't care though it took a lot of work #and it's the closest thing to content I've made in a long time #*drops like a dead bird*#here #forestwriting?#i mean kinda #if you read all of this you're a hero #and also i'm sorry

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kaiyonohime · 2 years ago

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Fucking hell, but the end may be in sight.

Called up JP Morgan Chase Investments to check on the status of the transfer two days ago and was informed the tax had been split in two by their machine, but the reviewed and accepted the paperwork. Called them up today and, you guessed it, more issues.

So now the issue is with my credit union. You see my credit union in the US changed their name back in 2021. Why? Fuck if I know, they had had the same name for 85 years before that. But they changed their name last year, and now it’s causing issues.

Nothing else got changed, mind you. All the account numbers are the same, all the accounts are the same, it’s just the name changed.

But the voided check I sent had the old name, and the credit union has a different name, so I have to send a letter to JP Morgan Chase Investments via fax tomorrow morning explaining the name changed that happened a year ago, and that the reason my checks have the old name is because I never ordered new checks. Because who the fuck uses checks these days? Even when I lived in the US I almost never used checks.

The only time I used checks in the US was because my landlord didn’t have an online payment portal for a year. Then I moved and everything was digital after that. So I still have my original box of checks from when I opened my account well over a decade ago. Because I used exactly twelve of them, and no more.

This is also making me nervous because my credit union is rather... flaky is a polite way of putting it. It’s a small town credit union, and it employs idiots. I really wanted to avoid having to use them to transfer funds, or do anything money related. The only reason my account is still open is because I have a safety deposit box with them that has some books that were too heavy to bring with me when I moved to Japan. I honestly fully intended to get the books and close everything a few years back, but, well, plague happened and it’s put off my plans a bit.

I once went in person four separate times to make sure they knew I was traveling out of state for Christmas to visit my grandfather, and to not flag my card as stolen. Because it wasn’t stolen, it was me using it out of state (I rarely left the state, so it would be unusual activity). They said they understood, and it wouldn’t be an issue.

I traveled down to see my grandfather without issue. I did shopping in the city where my grandfather lived without issue. And then I drove back home.

My card got flagged when I was getting gas traveling back home and got turned off. Thankfully I also had a credit card, so I wasn’t in trouble, but it was annoying. And when I got back and asked what the hell happened, do you know what I was told?

I had told them I was traveling for Christmas. I drove back on the 27th, which is after Christmas. So they didn’t think it was me and the card got flagged.

It didn’t occur to anyone once that people don’t travel on Christmas day, and that my grandfather lived a two day drive away so of course if I was there for Christmas I would be traveling back after. Not a single person thought it was unusual. They thought I was in the wrong.

They’re a good credit union for someone living in that small town, but oof are they not designed to think outside of a tiny box. So hopefully money getting transferred into the account won’t send red sirens going off and cause problems. It shouldn’t, the benefits from the VA didn’t, so hopefully this doesn’t either. But you never know.

It doesn’t help that I don’t know how much I inherited either. JP Morgan Chase Investments can’t tell me that unless I have multiple witnesses and a notary on paperwork, which I didn’t have when I went to the consulate in Osaka. So just a notary was required to get the money, it’s witnesses that were necessary to know how much I’m getting.

I wish I was making that last part up. I honestly have no clue. If I suddenly become a millionaire or something next week, well, I need to hire an accountant to do my taxes because that sounds like a pain beyond my regular taxes (in both Japan and the US, double ouch), and I’m buying potato chips to be imported from the US. And a spinning wheel. And wondering where the fuck my grandfather got all that money, and if he was wanted for a bank job that he pulled off at some point.

It would be kinda fun to find out that my grandfather pulled off a bank job and hid the cash for a few decades. I think I’m getting a thousand dollars or so. That won’t even cover a round trip economy flight to the US, but it will help go toward one so I can visit home again one day.

#JP Morgan Chase Investments #no I don't understand any of this #but I like to think my grandfather was a bank robber at some point #that would amuse me

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angelofthequeers · 3 years ago

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Free to Be You and Me: chapter 8

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Worst. Day. Ever.

“Look on the bright side!” Plagg says as Adrien faceplants on his bed and groans long and loud into his pillow. “The day’s done! No more Liar Rossi!”

“For now,” Adrien mutters. “I’m just waiting for the day she convinces my father to let her move in. I’ll never get another moment to myself.”

Plagg sighs. “I was gonna say you’re the idiot who made a deal with her, but you didn’t land her that modelling job. So, you’re off the hook.”

Adrien chuckles and rolls over so that he can reach up and scritch Plagg. Plagg’s purrs rumble in the air around them. “Yeah. I don’t know what she said to my father to get it but –”

Tap. Tap.

If tapping is operant conditioning, then call Adrien Pavlov’s dog. He’s immediately up and bounding over to open the window, his heart racing at the sight of the girl in red waiting for him on the other side.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says breathlessly when the window’s fully open. Ladybug grins at him as he steps aside to let her in.

“I had a different idea for this time,” she says. “If you trust me?”

Adrien stares at her outstretched hand. Is that even a question? He’d trust this girl to the ends of the earth, through hell and back. He takes her hand and lets her hoist him out the window, wrapping his arms around her neck even though she’s Ladybug and would never let him fall and splatter on the ground below, and her smile widens.

“You ready?” she says.

“Always,” Adrien blurts out. Ladybug giggles, then reels her yo-yo so they ascend along the massive mansion, and there’s a moment where Adrien thinks that this would be an incredibly awkward thing to explain if someone saw them soaring past a window. But then they’re on the roof and no one’s shouting after them to explain themselves, so all’s well that ends well.

“So,” Ladybug says, sitting down cross-legged. The sunset bathes her in brilliant orange light from behind, illuminating her angelic beauty.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, hammers Adrien’s heart. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Y-Yeah?” he stammers.

“Busy day?”

“You could say that.” Adrien grimaces at the memory of Lila clinging to his arm, never letting go, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheek and making everything take ten times longer than it has to be. Ladybug’s brow crinkles and her bluebell eyes soften.

“That bad?” she says.

“Just…modelling stuff. And Lila stuff. The usual.”

“Naturally,” Ladybug mutters. She clears her throat. “I made – I mean, uh, I ran into Marinette, and she said she made you some treats and swiped some bakery leftovers and wanted to know if I could pass them on – you know, since she’d never be allowed in and I’m a superhero and all, not because I keep coming here when I really shouldn’t –”

“I thought we were past that,” Adrien says, while his stomach does loop-the-loops at the knowledge that Marinette cares enough to not only bake for him but also to enlist a superhero to deliver her treats to him. She really is one of the best friends Adrien could ever ask for! “We already established that I’m just that special.”

Ladybug giggles and ducks her head. “Okay, yeah, I walked right into that one.” She opens her yo-yo, dips her hand into the bright pink depths, and pulls out a pale pink box. “For you, monsieur.”

“Thank you, mademoiselle,” Adrien says as he sits next to Ladybug and takes the box, his mouth already watering. He audibly groans when he pops it open and spies the contents: little pink macarons, blueberry muffins, and even a croissant or two!

“I take it you approve?” Ladybug says with an odd little smile.

“I owe her a debt I can never repay.” Adrien snatches one of the croissants and tears a chunk off, almost crying at the fluffy, buttery, flaky euphoria exploding in his mouth. “Wow. She just made this day worth it.”

Ladybug’s smile widens. “I’m glad. You need more happiness in your life.”

“S’d’you,” Adrien says around a mouthful of croissant. He swallows the heavenly pastry. “So do you. I know that whatever made you lose it the other day can’t have just gone away.”

Ladybug’s smile turns fixed. “Let’s not talk about that. I actually wanted to talk to you about Chloé.”

“Chloé?” Adrien says. What about Chloé? The part where her long-lost half-sister Zoé Lee hopped on over from New York, got akumatised on her first day in Paris into a golden Chloé clone who crushed people beneath her feet, then earned Chloé’s bitter hatred for not being a nasty cow? Or the part where Chloé derailed the entire Bustier class movie production with Mr Astruc out of petty jealousy that Zoé had a main role? Or what about the part where Chloé learned in the span of half an hour that there was a new Bee hero and that her dad drew the line at hurting Zoé when bending over backwards to cater to Chloé?

“Yeah. I heard about her, uh��mental breakdown. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Adrien blinks. “You? Sorry? What in the world are you sorry for?”

“I just…” Ladybug sighs. “I feel like Chloé’s mental state is my fault. I put off telling her that she wouldn’t be Queen Bee anymore for so long and then brought Ryuuko out in front of her and Hawkmoth got to her because of it. I tried to talk to her the other night and…I might have gone too far. I brought her mother into it. And now she’s got a half-sister – like, her mother has another kid aside from her! – and Vesperia’s the new Bee who was brought in specifically for Chloé’s akumatisation and I just…can’t help feeling like I’m doing this to her. Like I’m rubbing in her face that she’s not so big anymore. And now she hates you, and I know how much you love your friends –”

“Ladybug. Stop.” Adrien drops his box of treats on the rooftop to grab Ladybug’s hands. “Chloé made her own choice to side with Shadowmoth – well, Hawkmoth back then. You must have told her at some point before then, so it’s not like she could’ve acted like she didn’t know she wouldn’t be getting it back. You needed Ryuuko at that point, not Queen Bee, so it wasn’t like you were rubbing it in her face. You needed Vesperia against Queen Banana, and you were never going to give her the Bee back in the first place for more than just identity reasons. And she chose to not be my friend anymore.” He sighs. “I want her to let me help her. I hope she does let me someday. You’re right, she’s my oldest friend – we’ve been friends since we were kids. But she made her own choices every step of the way and I can’t…you know, make her do anything. That’s what Shadowmoth does.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Ladybug smiles at Adrien and shuffles closer until she can rest her head on his shoulder. Adrien’s heart flatlines.

“O-Of course I am,” he says through a desert-dry mouth. “It’s what I’m known for.”

“Really? And here I thought you were only known for your good looks.”

They both laugh at that, heads rolling back and faces reflecting the faint glow of the last dying rays of the setting sun. Ladybug hums and her head lolls on Adrien’s shoulder so that her soft pigtails tickle his face, and Adrien implodes on the spot.

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” Ladybug says. “I mean, apart from the Lila thing, but that’s just to be expected by now.”

“And you?” Adrien says. “What about you?”

There. Adrien can’t see her face to see if her smile has grown wooden, but her body stiffens against him.

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Ladybug says. “I haven’t had a mental breakdown in days!”

“Ladybug.” Adrien musters every tiny shred of willpower to pull away so that he can grab her hands, which he seems to be doing a lot but it’s not like she minds or anything. “I know there was that breakdown in the park the other day, but that’s been it. Every other time is me venting to you and I feel…selfish. I wanna be able to be there for you like you’re there for me.”

“Oh, yes, that’ll go down just great,” Ladybug says dryly. Her eyes dart away from his. “I can see the headlines now: Saviour of Paris Uses Sunshine Prince as Therapist.”

“Just forget about the superhero-civilian thing!” Adrien throws one of his hands up, still leaving his other one holding hers because like hell is he going to willingly let go of her. “We’re friends. You don’t have to tell me anything that’ll give away your identity – I don’t want that, and you said you’ve got friends who can help you with your civilian problems – I just want you to be able to lean on me like you’re letting me lean on you.”

Ladybug chews on her bottom lip, looking down at their clasped hands. She’s silent for what seems like an eternity. Just as Adrien’s about to apologise for overstepping her boundaries, to insist that she doesn’t have to share anything and he’s just being pushy, she sighs.

“You’re right,” she says. “I can’t tell you much but…yeah, things have just been so much lately. Like, I’ve always been flaky and unreliable and late to everything even before I was Ladybug, but now it’s so much worse. I barely have a life. And now that I’m the new Guardian, it’s up to me to figure out how to take down Shadowmoth and how to protect people from his akumatisations beyond just giving them a magic charm after they get akumatised. That’s just great in a city of millions.”

“I kind of get you,” Adrien says with a soft little smile. “I’m always drowning in my own obligations. Fencing, basketball, Chinese, modelling, being perfect for my father…that’s why I love it when you come by. I love my friends but they just…don’t get it. Not like you do. We have to be –”

“Perfect,” Ladybug finishes. Her mouth twists. “Everyone just expects me to smile and wave and be able to fix everything. What happens when I can’t? When I fail?”

“If you fail,” Adrien says, “you’ll have Chat Noir. You’ll have Rena Rouge and Carapace and Vesperia and Ryuuko and all the other heroes. And…you’ll have me. Even if you can’t tell any of us the full truth, you’ll always have support, Ladybug. And when you mess up, you’ll just get back up. It’s what you always do.” It’s why I love you.

Ladybug makes a strange sound, oddly like a sniffle. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what I did to deserve your faith in me. But it really, really helps.”

“Of course,” Adrien smiles. “And I’ve been meaning to ask for ages: how the heck did you figure out the magical charms? That’s so cool! And the new suit! Not that I don’t love your base suit but…wow.”

Ladybug giggles. “Oh, Rena helped me. She figured out that the information we have on the Miraculouses is only what’s been documented so far and the only limit on my powers is what I set for myself. I just wish that applied to the damn timer.”

Adrien frowns. “You showed Rena the Guardian information? Where’d you show her? Does Chat Noir know?”

Ladybug’s eyes widen like she’s a deer caught in headlights. She inhales and looks away, and a sick pit starts to form in Adrien’s stomach.

“Please,” Ladybug says eventually, “do not tell Chat this. Like, at all. It’ll crush him.”

“Of course not,” Adrien says in a strangled voice. Ladybug swallows.

“Remember my mental breakdown in the park? I ended up having another mini one afterwards and – well, I was losing my mind and I just needed – I was going to explode –”

“You told her your identity.” The pit in Adrien’s stomach grows heavier. After everything they’ve been through – after everything he’s done for her and she’s done for him – he’s not even the first to find out who she really is under the mask. That honour goes to someone he doesn’t even know.

Imagine being jealous like this when it’s about Ladybug’s mental health, whispers a snide little voice. But Adrien can’t help it. He’s Chat Noir. He’s Ladybug’s partner, the one and only Chat Noir, who’s been there from the start, and she’s gone and told a superhero that’s not only temporary but whose identity Shadowmoth knows.

“– really scared of Chat finding out.” Ladybug’s frantic voice swims back into Adrien’s consciousness. “I always promised he’d be the first to know, and I feel so awful for breaking my promise, but he can’t know.”

“Why not?” Adrien says dully. Ladybug laughs rather hysterically.

“Because he can’t. Just like I can’t know his. Even outside of Shadowmoth getting hold of one of us! I already care about that stupid cat enough – can you imagine what would happen if I knew who he really was? And I can’t – I can’t let him – not again –”

“What?” Any jealousy and negativity inside Adrien vanish at the sight of his lady in distress. “What again? What happened?”

Ladybug just shakes her head, curls in on herself, and wraps her arms around her legs. “Please don’t make me talk about that,” she says quietly, brokenly. “Anything but that.”

“Did…something happen?” Adrien shifts over closer ever so slowly, trying not to spook her. “To Chat Noir? You don’t have to tell me!” he hastens to add when Ladybug shakes her head again, this time more feverishly. “I just…I want to understand, when Chat Noir’s been there through thick and thin.”

“I can’t let the white get him,” Ladybug whispers. A tear rolls down her face, over her spotted mask, and Adrien’s stomach lurches. “I have to protect him. My kitty. All alone without his lady.”

“The white?” Adrien slowly, carefully slides an arm around Ladybug and draws her close. “What do you mean? What white?”

Ladybug shaking her head this time makes her dark hair swish against Adrien’s face. “Please – no –”

“Of course. Of course, Ladybug.” Purely on impulse, Adrien ducks his head and kisses the top of her head, and he gets a sharp intake of breath in response. “You don’t have to tell me. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“I’d promise you the world,” Ladybug murmurs. Fireworks erupt in Adrien’s belly.

“Just promise me you’ll tell Chat Noir,” he says. “That you told someone your identity. He’d be so much more hurt if he found out by accident later than if you told him now. And…he’s your partner. Your kitty. He can’t be there for you and help you if he doesn’t know.”

“But I’m the Guardian,” Ladybug sniffles.

“And you’re only human. Chat might not be able to know everything, but he gets you, doesn’t he? If you can’t keep him fully in the loop because of Guardian stuff, at least let yourself lean on him. That’s what he’s there for.”

“Mmm.”

The cool evening air settles on them as they sit in silence, Adrien toying with Ladybug’s beautiful, silky pigtails and Ladybug tapping and stroking patterns on the arm that’s not around her.

“What are you tapping?” Adrien says.

“Morse code.”

“Okay, but what?”

“It’s a secret.”

Tap. Tap.

Tap. Stroke. Tap. Tap.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Stroke.

Tap.

Stroke. Tap. Stroke. Stroke.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

Tap. Tap. Stroke.

“I wish I knew what you were saying,” Adrien complains. Ladybug giggles.

“I’m sure you’ll live.”

They really should break this up. They can’t sit here all night. But no way is Adrien going to be the one to tell Ladybug to stop cuddling him, so if he has to sacrifice his sleep tonight, so be it. If only he could sit here forever.

Best. Day. Ever.

#aotq fic #aotq: free to be #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ladrien #hurt/comfort #ml season 4

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idonthaveabackupplan · 3 years ago

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I feel like when Jason came back he would have started calling Tim insults that he knows from classic books that have mostly ironic meanings and later when Damian shows up he joins in.

Those insults would include, but are not limited to: Rakefire, Gobermouch, Raggabrash, Furfuraceous, Lubberwort, Zounderkite, Clotpoll/Clotpole. (The spelling of the last one makes a difference, look at the bottom of the post for why)

Definitions: (They’re all pretty self explanatory as to why they were chosen)

Rakefire - someone so uncool that they would outstay their welcome in someone's house until long after the fire had burned down to just the last few embers.

Gobermouch - Someone who likes to meddle in other people's business.

Raggabrash - A disorganised or grubby person.

Furfuraceous - Consisting of or covered with flaky particles.

Lubberwort - A hazy, lethargic kind of person.

Zounderkite - A complete idiot who constantly makes clumsy and awkward mistakes.

Clotpoll - A blockhead

or it’s better alternative Clotpole - Vaguely meaning Clot=Stupid person and Pole=Male genitalia therefore Clotpole=Idiot dick

#dc #dc incorrect quotes #dc robin #dc characters #dc universe #dc comics #incorrect dc quotes #jason todd #damian wayne #timothy drake #tim drake #robin #red hood #red robin #robin damian

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shatterinseconds · 3 years ago

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hug

Julance ‘21 day 19

Lance grabs Keith’s face in his hands, to hold him steady, to make sure he doesn’t try to run. His bangs are matted to his face from sweat and dirt; too many scrapes are scattered across his skin. He limps with a sprained ankle, though they’re standing still for now, and while it’s covered, Lance knows there must be a smattering of dark bruises forming on Keith’s back from when he was thrown into a wall. After pushing Lance out of the way.

Keith should feel lucky his spine didn’t snap.

The rest of their team graciously decided to give them the space they needed, having seen the fury in Lance’s eyes. And the way his jaw tightened as he constantly watched Keith and held onto him tight the entire trip back to the castle.

Maybe Lance should save the discussion for when Keith’s healed, a little more stable on his feet, but if he holds it in any longer, he’ll burst.

Lance wipes a bit of dirt off Keith’s cheek before he finally speaks. His voice is low even though they’re the only ones in the hangar. “Don’t do that to me. You give me a heart attack every time.”

“You don’t control me,” Keith says, voice rough. His mouth pinches as he shifts his body to stand more soundly on his good foot.

“I also don’t ask you to sacrifice yourself for me. I was handling it.”

“They were going to kill you!”

“You could have died too!” Lance practically yells. His hands wrap in Keith’s hair, bringing him forward until their foreheads touch. “I--I can’t have you dying for me.”

“And I don’t want you to die,” Keith says softly, eyes closed now. His breathing is a little more even.

Lance huffs out a short, humorless laugh. “Checkmate, I guess.”

Keith sighs, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, Lance? That I’m fine with watching the person I love die or get seriously injured when I could’ve prevented it?”

Mouth parting to argue, Lance quickly thinks better of it and concedes. “No, and I would be such a hypocrite if I said anything else.”

Keith stares at him for a long moment before moving in to hug him. Hands splayed on Lance’s back, his warmth spreads throughout Lance’s body even with all their armor on, and Lance’s breath catches for a moment in surprise. Keith ducks his head into the crook of Lance’s neck, his breath dancing across Lance’s skin.

“I��m not sorry I pushed you out of the way,” Keith begins honestly after a moment. “I’ll never be sorry for saving you. No matter how injured it gets me, even if it causes me my life. But I know how you feel because I get the same way when the situation is reversed. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“The problem,” Lance mumbles into Keith’s hair. Even though they’ve just been through a battle, Lance can still detect the faint scent of his shampoo. It calms him. “Is that we’re both self-sacrificing idiots. One of us needs to be more selfish.”

Lance’s heart stutters when he feels Keith’s laugh against his skin, and a soft smile appears on his face, though Keith can’t see it. That feels good.

Stepping back, Keith holds out his pinky. “How about a promise to be more careful in battle instead.”

It’s a flaky promise to make, Lance knows--and he sure Keith does too--but it provides some baseline foundation now. It may break in a week, a month, a year. In some battle where Keith--or anyone on their team--is about to die and Lance jumps this time. Lance isn’t stupid. War is unpredictable and violent. He knows he won’t always be able to protect Keith just as Keith may not be able to protect him. But Lance will take the time he has now, be grateful for all the battles they walk away from. Because no matter what happens or what injuries they may obtain, those are the real victories.

And if Lance can’t handle it, then he shouldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with someone in the middle of a war.

Lance hooks his pinky with Keith’s. “Promise,” he says, looking straight in his eyes. “Now, let’s get you to a healing pod.”

Keith smiles, but Lance can tell it’s pained--the painkillers Coran administered must be wearing off now. “Yeah, that would be great.” Keith drapes an arm over Lance’s shoulder, heavily leaning against him for support, and Lance wraps an arm around his waist. It’s a slow walk to the med-bay, but they make it.

They’re both scarred and a little bent but not broken. They survived today and that is something to celebrate.

#klance #voltron #vld #julance #julance2021 #klance fic #keith x lance #my writing #once again i thought i would write something fluffy for this prompt #i did not lmao

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 4 years ago

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Just Haven’t Met You Yet | Jurdan Pregnancy AU

Written for Jurdan Week 2020, Day 2- Pregnancy/Labour AU @jurdannet

Rating: T

Summary: Jude thinks she’s coming down with a fever. Taryn and Vivi think Jude is pregnant. Jude takes a pregnancy test to prove them wrong.

CW: Descriptions of anxiety, panic.

AN: As always, a massive thank you goes to @clockworkgraystairs for holding my hand (and jumping through the screen with anxiety blankets) throughout the course of writing this 🥺❤️

Next Chapter | AO3 | JHMYY Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

Chapter 1- Kiwi

Malls are terrible, awful places. We used to come here a lot to escape Faerie, but even that felt more like something Taryn and I did for Vivi—to reassure her we hadn’t forgotten where we came from.

I never minded coming here for her. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve been anything but impartial to malls. They were a one-stop shop for all sorts of human necessities.

Now, weaving through the throng of mortals, who are all doing their best to drive a pic-axe through my skull by the sounds of their voices alone, I can’t believe I ever tolerated it.

Taryn holds Lorelei’s hand as she bounces along beside her. For only two, Lore is rather swift on her feet. She could give the speed-walking mall moms a run for their money.

Vivi has her arm slung over Heather’s shoulder. They’re laughing at something I don’t hear. Heather carries her Polaroid camera and snaps photo after photo of Lore in all her varying shades of toddler cheek.

Oak is holding my hand, swinging it wildly about between us.

I’m made nauseous by the thick cloud of cloying smells in the hall. Perfume and fake cheese and nail polish, all at once.

There are so many people in my way. Either unintentionally because they’re idiots, or intentionally because they want me to buy something. Both reasons make me want to shove them hard.

There are also way too many babies, screaming bloody murder or shrieking with laughter. I know they’re just babies, and they can’t help it. But it still makes me want to rage at them.

Suddenly, I don’t blame most of my subjects for turning up their noses at humans. We’re horrible.

When we make it to the food court, Oak lets go of my hand. He runs toward Panda Express, pointing at the big glowing signs above the counter. They advertise things like chicken in a bright orange glaze, fried noodles in a plum sauce, and egg rolls fried to a flaky, golden crisp.

Each dish is displayed behind lighted glass on the counter. The sight of them makes me want to vomit.

“I’ll get us a table,” I say.

A crease appears between Vivi’s brows. “You want anything?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug.

Taryn gives me an odd look, but only bends down to pick up Lore, hoisting the toddler onto the jut of her hip so she can survey her lunch options in all the shiny metal bins behind the glass.

I slog off to a group of small tables shoved together to make one long one. Collapsing in a chair, I try to think of things that don’t make me feel ill.

I move through the minutes as one might through quicksand. I have my head in my hands when Vivi plunks herself down across from me. Heather is sipping on a very large soda and takes the seat next to my sister.

They have trays of their own, bearing an assortment of fast food delicacies—waffle fries, orange chicken, a sub sandwich stuffed with deli meats.

“Brought you pizza,” Vivi says, sliding a red plastic tray my way. “You were looking a little pale.”

There’s a massive slice, cheese and grease oozing over the side of a paper plate. Next to it is a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Usually, I would scarf down this kind of meal and lick my fingers for good measure.

Now, I just grimace.

“What’s the matter with you?” Vivi asks. “I’ve never seen you turn down pizza before.”

“I told you,” I say. “I’m not hungry.”

Taryn joins us, sliding into the chair next to me. She sets down a tray laden with the finest Asian fusion dishes the Maine Mall has to offer.

“Oak and Lore went to check out the charity box,” she says, nodding in the direction of a huge black funnel. “Gave them three coins each.”

Oak stands near a sloped edge of the funnel and places a coin on its side at the very top. Lore stands on her tip-toes to get a good view, her head of copper curls bobbing in anticipation.

Together, they watch as the coin rolls down the ramp, right into the vortex where it keeps rolling on its edge. Around and around, faster and faster it spins, until it reaches the bottom, dropping with a heavy clink into the collection box below.

“Those things are designed for child manipulation, you know,” Vivi says.

Taryn waves her off. “So long as it keeps them entertained,” she says, then turns to face us again. “What’d I miss?”

“Jude isn’t eating,” Vivi informs her. “Not even pizza.”

My twin frowns at me. “What’s wrong, Jude?”

“Nothing,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just have a headache.”

“Soda might help,” Heather says. She scoots her gigantic cup towards me. I consider it for a moment.

She’s right, of course. I could just be dehydrated. Or possibly, I have low blood sugar. Though something in me doubts that after the massive plate of smoked salmon and eggs I all but inhaled this morning.

I press my lips into a thin smile, bringing the straw to my lips. If anything, the cold feels nice.

“Did you eat breakfast before we came?” Taryn asks me.

I nod. “I don’t think that’s the issue, though,” I say, pushing Heather’s soda back across the table. “I haven’t been feeling right since this morning.”

Vivi looks at me, incredulous. “You’ve had a headache this whole time and you didn’t say anything?”

“It’s just a headache. It’ll pass.”

“Is it?” she asks. “Just a headache?”

I hate that she knows me so well. And if I lie, she will know that, too. “No,” I grumble, finally.

“If you were feeling unwell, Jude, you shouldn’t have come.” Vivi says this as a matter of fact. As if we haven’t been planning this trip to the mortal world for months.

Turns out, it’s hard being High Queen and sister to someone with a permanent residence in what is practically a different country.

“I was determined to see you,” I sigh, laying my head down on my folded arms in front of me.

“Yeah?” Vivi says. “And how’s that going for you?”

“It would be better if my sisters were not so solicitous.” My voice comes out less assertive than I’d like and garbled by the table.

“Ah, yes,” Vivi mocks. “How dare we, your family, ask you questions about your well-being?” She snags the pizza off my plate and tears a big bite off the end.

“If we were not so solicitous,” Taryn says, “Cardan would have our heads for sending you home sick.”

“I’ll remind you that I am the haver of heads in our relationship,” I say, glancing up. They all have concerned brows and wary stares, though I don’t believe it’s for their own safety.

I understand their concern and their wariness. I just wish they would aim it at something more important.

I plaster on a feeble grin and add, “Lucky for you, I say you can keep yours.”

“How generous,” Vivi snorts.

“Cardan is more likely to have my head, actually,” I say, closing my eyes.

“It amazes me that you still can’t see it,” Taryn says.

I peek at her face through one squinted eye. She’s shaking her head, which is the worst possible reaction.

“See what, Taryn?” I ask, because if I don’t, she’ll tell me anyway. I brace myself for another lecture on why I shouldn’t spread myself so thin—or some other equally crappy advice that I wouldn’t know how to follow even if I wanted to.

But she just fixes me with a stern look and says, “That boy would paint whole cities red for you.”

I blink. Well, I was not expecting that.

Cardan has always taken pride in the fact that he has killed no one. Rarely shuts up about it, actually. Apart from when he was a serpent—which apparently doesn’t count because he had no self-awareness, or so he claims—his hands are remarkably clean for a king. Of blood, at least.

But I suppose a good deal of time has passed since a threat last loomed over Faerie. Things in Elfhame have been relatively peaceful. Perhaps I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have something I love held constantly in peril. How far both of us would go to protect that thing.

I think about how Cardan looked when I was returned to Elfhame after my sojourn in the Undersea. The fury glittering in his eyes. The waves crashing violently against the rocks.

“She’s right, you know,” Vivi says, “And red is so not my colour. So spill.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I feel… lightheaded. Dizzy. A little nauseous, too. Like I may have a fever or something.”

“Do you have cold sweats?” Heather asks, stabbing a piece of orange chicken with her fork.

“No, I’m just really warm.”

“It is summer,” Taryn points out.

I shake my head. “This is different. I’m exhausted, too. The kind of tired where everything hurts. That could be the fever, though.”

A thoughtful expression crosses Taryn’s face. Her gaze drifts to where Lore and Oak still watch with rapt attention as their coins spin down the funnel. I think about joining them, if not to escape this interrogation.

“Or,” Vivi interjects, “It could be that you’re only twenty-one, and you’re running an entire kingdom?”

I clench my jaw. “And I’ve been doing so for three years, Vivi. I’m used to it.”

“Maybe this is your burnout.” She takes another bite of my pizza, then points the slice at me, a cheese-smeared accusation. “Maybe you need a little breather.”

My nails dig into the meat of my palms.

We’ve had this discussion before. It unsettles me that she should be so sure I will crack under the pressure of responsibility. But she is as adamant about this as she has been since the day of our coronation.

I will always be the naive little sister to her. No matter the heights or station to which I ascend. I could become like a god, and Vivi will always think I am in over my head.

“It would be natural, Jude,” Heather says softly. “To want a bit of a break.”

“I don’t burn out,” I snap, glaring at them. “And I don’t need a break from being Queen. So stop trying to convince me. It isn’t going to work.”

“Yeesh,” Vivi says, “We were only suggesting—”

“Well, don’t.”

“Okay, okay.” She makes a gesture of surrender and goes back to her food.

I wonder briefly if Madoc put her up to this. If, somehow, he managed to sink his hooks into her, too—convinced her to persuade me off the throne so he could swoop in, the bright knight once more.

But then I remember how much Vivi loathes our father. She would rather live in Elfhame forever than see him come to power.

“Jude?” Taryn’s voice sounds. “When are you due for your next period?”

I narrow my eyes. “If you’re trying to imply something witty about PMSing, you can shove off, Taryn,” I say. “I’m not on my period.”

“I wasn’t,” she tells me, looking earnest enough. “And that’s not what I’m asking.”

My eyebrows sink into a concentrated V. Now that she mentions it, I’m really not sure. Which I am aware may sound stupid for a mortal like me, who’s bleedings occur monthly.

But the irregularity of my cycles has always made tracking them a futile task. Stress, I’ve heard, is reason enough for this in humans. And I can’t remember more than a handful of days in Faerie that haven’t been stressful.

Besides, ever since I became High Queen, I’ve had more salient things on my mind. Usually, my period just happens—and I deal with it when it does. “I don’t know,” I tell her. “Probably soon.”

Taryn bites her lip.

Suddenly, we are rushed by two bounding children. Their excitement rolls off of them in exhausting waves. I rest my chin on my arms again.

Oak grabs a fry off of Vivi’s plate, and Lorelei climbs into Taryn’s lap. She flings her little arms around her mother’s neck.

“Mama,” Lore says, nuzzling Taryn’s shoulder. “Can we have more coins?”

“What happened to the ones I gave you?”

“All gone.” She holds out her empty palms, proof they’d spent their last copper.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Taryn says. “Eat two pieces of chicken, and I’ll give you two coins.”

Lore’s eyes light up at the opportunity for a bargain. Bargains are things that grown faeries make. Young fae are typically, and understandably, excluded from such dealings.

I am unsure whether Lore hasn’t yet grasped the rules of spoken word and how differently they apply to mortal tongues, or if she simply trusts her mother enough to know she won’t go back on her promise.

Either way, she reaches for the plate on Taryn’s tray.

“If I eat five pieces will you give me five coins?” Oak asks through a mouthful of orange chicken.

“I’ll give you five coins if you don’t make a mess of your shirt while you’re eating,” Heather says, shoving a wad of napkins in Oak’s face just as a glob of sauce dribbles down his chin. She swipes it up quickly.

Oak gives her a broad grin. “Deal.”

When Lore is finished with her two chicken nuggets, Taryn fishes out a velvet coin purse from her bag. Heather dutifully inspects Oak’s shirt before digging in her own pockets for change. Once they’ve collected their earnings, the children go running back to the charity box.

Taryn turns on me. “When was the last time you and Cardan… you know…”

Heat pricks my cheeks, and I give her a wild look. “Are you really asking me about my sex life right now? There are children.”

Taryn seems unruffled. “They’re going to learn about it some day. Besides, they can’t hear us.”

I think about fae hearing and really hope she’s right. “If you’re suggesting,” I hiss, “That I’m in a piss poor mood because of a dry spell, I’ll have you know it’s not that.”

“So, recently then.”

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

Taryn’s face twists in thought. “How recent is rece—”

“Dear gods, Taryn. Last night,” I blurt. “It was last night.”

Heather suppresses a snicker behind her coke. Vivi pops a Dorito into her mouth, smirking. My cheeks blaze.

I don’t know if I’m more mortified by the intrusive nature of her questions or by what she’s implying. That she believes PMS or a dry spell over the possibility of illness.

“Okay,” Taryn says. “And the time before?”

I look daggers at her. “I’m not going to tell you every time I’ve had sex in the past year.”

“I don’t need the whole year.” A teasing smile tugs at her lips. “Just the past month or so.”

I steeple my fingers in front of me. “Let’s just assume Cardan and I are not in a dry spell and have not been for… longer than that.”

“You’ve been taking a draught then, I take it,” Taryn says. “Or at least using protection?”

I feel myself blanch.

Oh.

Oh no.

My stomach does a little flip. She cannot be suggesting what I think she’s suggesting. Even if it were possible for me to be pregnant, which it’s not, I’d rather be at once PMSing and in a dry spell.

Regardless, I will not sit here and be lampooned by my own sister.

My chair screeches across the tiles as I go flying to my feet. Then, I’m taking off across the food court in a breathless fury.

I’m about halfway to Claire’s when Taryn calls from behind me. “Jude, wait! Where are you going?”

I whirl around on a dime, coming face to face with her. She almost runs right into me.

“I am going to CVS,” I tell her, “To pick up some Tylenol for this headache, which definitely does not have anything to do with pregnancy, as you so kindly hinted for all the mall to hear.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” my sister says. “Honestly.”

Over her shoulder, I see Vivi, Heather, Oak, and Lorelei have caught up with us now. They stand a few feet away, apprehension written on their faces.

I heave a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, it’s just—” My eyes mash shut. “My head is killing me.”

A gentle hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “We can leave the mall, if that’s what you want.”

I’m too weak to shrug her off so I nod meekly.

“Okay,” Taryn says. She turns to where the others are gathered and waves them over. “Come on, guys.”

“Are we going to Build-A-Bear?” Oak asks. “I want to make one for Lore.”

“That’s very kind of you, sweets,” Taryn says. “But we’re going to CVS and then we’re going home.”

“CVS?” Heather asks.

“Jude needs Tylenol,” Taryn informs her. “For her, uh… headache.”

☽☽☽☽☽

There’s a CVS right across the street from the mall. We walk to it. Though the sun droops low in the sky, it’s still muggy outside. Swarms of gnats flit about our ears.

The walk does nothing to quell the stress of our little outing. Nor does it shake the lingering sense of anxiety clinging to my thoughts.

The automatic doors to CVS slide open when we approach. Without saying a word, I stalk off to find the medicine aisle.

“I hope you’re planning on buying a pregnancy test, too,” Vivi calls after me.

I shoot a middle finger over my shoulder and don’t look back.

“Jude’s pregnant?” I hear Oak gasp.

I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, turning sharply down the nearest aisle so I’m out of their view.

Could this be any more mortifying?

I don’t think I’m pregnant, of course. We’ve been using protection. Or at least, all the protection Elfhame can provide on a regular basis. A simple draught cooked up by one of the palace nurses. Rare, considering the low birthrate of faeries, but not unheard of.

I’d been embarrassed to ask for it in the first place. Fae children are exceedingly uncommon, and I had a feeling this meant any measures taken to prevent them would be frowned upon.

But the thought of raising a child while still trying to gain our footing on the throne is what ultimately sent me hurtling for the nurse’s corridor. Tiny crystal vials of varying colors have been delivered to the High Chambers every morning since.

I haven’t missed a dose.

I find the Tylenol in the medicine aisle. I grab a thermometer, too, in case Heather doesn’t have one.

This headache makes me feel like someone’s cracking my skull open like a walnut. The air conditioning in CVS is blessedly cool, though, and I try to focus on that.

With my haul, I make my way to the checkout. Vivi is standing there with a bag of her own, flipping through the glossy pages of a magazine. She has a lollipop stick hanging out of the side of her mouth.

“What did you buy?” I ask when I’ve paid.

“This lollipop,” Vivi tells me, pulling it out and giving it a flourish. It’s bottle green and looks disgusting. “Oh, and pregnancy tests.” She shoots me a devilish grin.

My stomach does another little flip. If it wasn’t for the fact that my sisters are currently trying to prove that I am pregnant, I would have rushed to the parking lot to be sick. As it stands, I’m trying to prove them wrong.

I muster up a simper for my dear older sister. “For you, I hope.”

“I’m not the pregnant one.” Vivi closes the magazine she’s holding and places it back on the rack.

“Neither am I,” I tell her firmly, nodding at the bag in her hand. “So you can return those.”

She doesn’t budge. “Oh, come on, Jude. Humour us.”

“No.” I step around her and out the automatic doors. “I don’t think you’d find me very funny.” The summer air is thick and cloying—claustrophobic on my skin.

Vivi doesn’t leave off, remaining close on my tail. Which is annoying and makes me want to snap again. But I think that might bolster her and Taryn’s point further, so I clench my jaw against her badgering.

“If you’re so sure you’re not pregnant, what do you have to lose?”

“Time?” I offer, looking for the bus stop on this side of the street. “And my dignity.”

“Fine,” Vivi says, “What say we make a bargain?”

A laugh bubbles to my lips. “I’m not bargaining with you.”

“A deal, then?” Vivi grabs my wrist to stop me. She wants me to take her seriously. I do not, but I roll my eyes and wait. “I will give you $8.95 in real mortal dollars for every test that comes back negative.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why $8.95?”

“That’s how much one of these babies cost.” Vivi pulls a box out of the bag and gives it a shake. The contents rattle around inside.

I give her an acidic look. Really? A baby pun? Tasteless considering I’m not pregnant.

I regard her for a moment. If I take those tests, I could get my sisters to stop hounding me about things I am nowhere near ready to consider—things that make me want to be swallowed up by a black hole, or fling myself into the stormy sea.

I’d also get some money out of it. Which I would probably just give back to Vivi and Heather anyway, since they’re always skint. But I could buy myself a lotto ticket first. Or maybe a packet of Skittles. The tropical kind that taste like a sugary vacation.

“And if it comes back positive?” I ask out of curiosity, not because I believe it will. I want to know what’s in it for her, and I refuse to participate in being the butt of a joke for less than thirty bucks.

Vivi’s cat-eyes gleam in the setting sun. “Consider it my ‘congrats on getting knocked up but please don’t ask me to attend the birth of said little progeny’ present.”

I scoff. As if I’d want anyone but the midwives there to witness such a butcherly event.

I would maybe allow Cardan to accompany me; but only if he wanted to, and only if I could use him as a personal punching bag in lieu of an epidural.

Then I wonder if they might have epidurals in Elfhame. Or some magical substitute of the sort. If they don’t, maybe I can ask that one be acquired from the nearest mortal hospital.

I shake my head because I’m getting way too ahead of myself. I’m not pregnant, and don’t plan on being for a very long time. I square my shoulders.

“Fine,” I say to Vivi. “Make it ten real mortal dollars. For every negative or inconclusive test. Consider the extra charge a tax for my wasted time and dignity.”

Vivi gasps a mock. “A Queen taxing her subject? You know, some around here might think that’s in poor taste.”

I have no idea what she means by that, so I shrug and pluck the lollipop from her mouth. It makes a popping sound against her lips. “Fortunately,” I say, “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” I stick the candied end between my teeth.

It tastes like kiwi and a lot better than I expect.

With that, I sling my plastic CVS bag over my shoulder and strut across the parking lot toward the bus stop.

“Hey!” Vivi shouts after me. “If you get your gross sick germs all over that—”

“According to you,” I remind her, “I’m not sick. So you have nothing to worry about.”

☽☽☽☽☽

We take the bus back to Vivi and Heather’s apartment. The whole way there, Oak asks a string of insufferable questions.

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“We don’t know that yet, sweets,” Taryn says, bouncing Lore on her knee.

“What are you going to name them?”

“I think that’s up to Jude and Cardan to decide,” Vivi tells him.

“Am I going to be a big brother again?” Oak wonders.

“No, dear,” Heather says, chuckling. “That’s not how that works.”

“You’ll be an uncle again,” Vivi grins. “Even better.”

“And a cousin,” Taryn says. “Technically.”

Heather frowns. “How does that…”

“It’s a complicated family tree.” Vivi stretches an arm over Heather’s shoulder. “I’ll draw it out for you when we get home.”

I scowl, refusing to look any of them in the eyes.

Reaching into my shopping bag, I retrieve the bottle of Tylenol and pop two in my mouth, swallowing them dry.

I press my forehead against the grimy window. Exhaustion sweeps over me. I know I’ll need a nap, or several, after this. I close my eyes and hope that home comes swiftly.

☽☽☽☽☽

When we arrive back at the apartment, Heather puts the kettle on for tea. I flop down on the couch and let the weight of the day smother me into the cushions.

Oak leaps over the back of the sofa, dropping down beside me. He turns the television on. It’s already on Cartoon Network, so he leaves it there and finishes off my bag of Doritos that Vivi rolled up and saved when it became clear I wasn’t going to eat them.

I stare at the TV without really seeing it. Everything is acute, splintered in my vision. The bus ride broke down any resolve I once had. I am nauseous with nerves.

I know I can’t be pregnant, but what if I am?

I think about how I wanted to scream at the babies in the mall for crying. I think of the way I wanted to shout at Sophie for breaking down when I was trying to save her. Of the way the sound of child’s laughter has only ever made me a particular shade of cruel I don’t like to think about overmuch.

I would be a horrible mother.

“Here,” Vivi says, sticking a bottle of Gatorade right in my face, making me blink. “Drink up.”

I cross my arms over my chest and slump further into the sofa. “M’not thirsty.”

“Well, that’s too bad, your Majesty,” she quips, crouching down so she’s at my eye level. Like I’m a child. I scowl like one, too. “You’re going to drink this for two reasons. One, you’re looking even paler now than you did in the food court.”

“The bus made me nauseous,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”

Vivi ignores me. “And two, you have to pee on a stick,” she says, gesturing to the CVS bag on the coffee table. “Or, I guess, three sticks.”

I groan.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she says, wagging a finger. “You made a deal, remember?”

I glare up at her for a moment before snatching the bottle from her hand. “Fine.” The cap clicks as I twist it off and take a swig of blue liquid. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “But only because when I win, I’m buying myself the biggest package of Tropical Skittles I can find. And I’m sharing none with you.”

“If you’re not pregnant, Jude, I will give you thirty bucks and all the Tropical Skittles in the candy aisle.” Then, my awful older sister leans over and plants an awful kiss on my forehead.

I feel my face flood with red humiliation.

Vivi joins Heather and Taryn at the dining table. I remain sulking on the couch with Oak, watching cartoons and sipping my Gatorade, trying hard not to think of screaming babies and dirty diapers.

When the bottle is empty, I grab the plastic bag of horrors from the coffee table and head for the bathroom. On my way, Vivi raises a mug of tea in salute.

“Good luck!” Taryn chimes.

I don’t know what she means by that so I roll my eyes and slam the door.

Alone in the bathroom, I can finally think. I lean over the sink taking deep calming breaths.

This is stupid, I tell myself. There’s no reason to get worked up. Yet, my heart races like I’m sparring an especially challenging opponent.

I raise my eyes to the mirror.

I look terrible. Worse probably than when I first tried my hand at mithridatism. Definitely worse than after my first lesson with the Ghost.

I splash cool water on my face to calm down.

My hands shake as I remove the tests one by one from their Pepto Bismol pink cardboard boxes. I lay them out in a neat row on the counter. Then, I read the instruction pamphlets through. Twice.

I shake my head. I am being a coward. I just need to buck up and do it. Vivi is right. I’m not pregnant, so what do I have to lose?

Waiting is the hard part. I flush the toilet and place the peed-on sticks back in their little row on the counter before washing my hands. The instructions say I am to wait three minutes to confirm a negative result.

Three minutes isn’t that long, I think. But time always moves differently when you’re expecting something.

I lie down on the tiled floor, resting my head on the braided floor mat.

Once, when Taryn and I were little and still living in the mortal world, we were charged with taking care of the class newt for the weekend.

Taryn was off buying new shoes with mom because hers didn’t fit anymore, and I stayed home to watch Fig (yes, his name was Fig the Newt—but what else could you expect from a class full of six-year-olds).

Of course, newts don’t really do much, so I got bored after about five minutes. I felt sad that Fig should always have to stay in his little tank. So I took him out for some “fresh air”, sitting him atop the lime green composition notebook on my nightstand.

“There,” I remember telling him. “It’s green, just like home.”

I fed Fig treats from the palm of my hand and, after a few, I decided he must be thirsty from all this excitement. Newts liked cool, wet environments, according to Mrs. Myers.

So, like the dutiful temporary ward I was, I went downstairs and filled a plastic Tupperware container with water. I was only gone for a minute. I didn’t think it would matter. But when I got back to my room, Fig was gone.

Vivi helped me search the upstairs for an hour before mom and Taryn got home. Then we all searched some more, tearing up the whole house in our wake.

We never found Fig. Taryn was devastated.

The next time we were at the farmer’s market, we bought a cactus from the plant lady and named it in his honor. A month later, Fig the cactus died.

I can’t take care of a salamander. I can’t even take care of a cactus. I am known by an entire kingdom of immortal creatures as a murderous wielder of blades.

How the hell am I supposed to care for a baby?

A knock sounds at the door and I start.

“Jude?” Taryn’s voice comes muffled through the door. “You alright in there?”

Looking at my watch, I realise I’ve been lying here for far longer than three minutes.

“Give her time, Taryn,” I hear Heather say. “She might still be working up the nerve.”

“Ten bucks says she jumped out the window,” Vivi says. “Fled the scene.”

“You need to stop making bets,” Heather scolds, “Or it’ll become a habit.”

The rest of their conversation fades away as I swallow and pick myself up off the floor. My heart speeds. Squaring my shoulders, I look down at the three tests.

Six lines glare back at me. They are judging little things, as if they see the whole of me and know that I am much too unworthy for the role I will soon have to play.

There is something rising in my throat. I feel as if I’m drawing away from the cluttered bathroom, the din of chatter outside the door, the rawness in my chest. Back and back into the haze of my mind. Slipping into it is like slipping into a pool of held breath.

I’m not pregnant. This isn’t real. I’m going to wake up now. I’ll be sweaty and panicked, but Cardan will be there to reassure me and everything will be fine.

Only, it’s not.

Because when I open my eyes again, I’m still in the bathroom in Vivi and Heather’s apartment. And the pregnancy tests are still lying in all their positive, two-lined reprehensibility on the countertop.

I rip the door open.

A crowd has gathered in the hall right outside, it seems. They lapse into immediate silence when they see me.

“Well?” Someone says. I am not sure who, because I’m staring blankly past all of them, into the sitting room where Oak and Lore are sprawled on the couch sharing the last of my Doritos.

“Positive,” I say, and I’m numb when I say it. Then, I look at them and feel nothing about that, too. “They’re positive.”

“All of them?” Taryn squeaks.

I give a curt nod of my head.

“Congratu—” Vivi starts, but I cut her off with a glower.

“Don’t.” I push past the group into the living room. Oak and Lore look up at the disturbance.

“Jude, wait,” Taryn says.

I’m being followed, I can tell. But I don’t pause, heading straight for the kitchen. Once there, I turn on the stove.

“What are you doing?” Vivi wants to know. They’re all standing in the doorway of the kitchen, observing me like I’m some sort of museum exhibit.

“I’m making tea,” I tell her in as calm a voice as I can. Blood rushes in my ears. I fill the kettle with water from the tap. It all sounds the same.

“So… that’s it?” Vivi asks. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

I slam the kettle down on the stove. Water sizzles and pops as it sloshes over the sides. “You want to talk, Vivi?” I whirl around. Three pairs of eyes widen, their expressions nearly identical. They think I’ve gone mad. They’re probably right. “Fine,” I say. “Why don’t we talk about how this is all your fault.”

Vivi gives me a horribly smug look. “I should hope not,” she says. “You have no one but yourself and your husband to blame for this, sweetheart.”

I rake my fingers through my hair. “If you hadn’t pushed me into taking those stupid tests, pregnancy and panic and… pregnancy panic would be the furthest things from my mind.” I choke all of this out and hate how brittle my voice sounds.

“It wouldn’t make you any less pregnant, though,” Vivi says pointedly.

A sound of frustration gutters in my throat. Throwing my head back, I implore the ceiling for guidance, but there’s only water stains. I dig the heels of my palms against my eyes.

“Jude,” Taryn says. “Why are you so distressed by this? You love Cardan, don’t you?”

“I do,” I rasp, letting my arms fall to my sides. “Gods, you have no idea.” Everything is blurry for a second while my eyes readjust to the light.

Taryn purses her lips. “Then why aren’t you happier about this?”

“Just because you were a teen mom,” I snap, “Doesn’t mean the rest of us want to be.”

Taryn flinches like I’ve slapped her. She folds her arms around herself.

“Stop being a jackass, Jude,” Vivi chides. “Besides, you’re twenty-one. You’ll hardly be a teen mom.”

“I just…” My jaw sets. “I don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”

“Really?” Vivi asks, disbelieving. “Because it seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”

I give her a black look. “We use protection. Always. I take a draught every morning before bed.”

Taryn pulls an odd face, but she quickly averts her gaze when she notices my attention, and starts fidgeting with the tassels on her shirt.

“And you haven’t missed a dose?” Heather asks me.

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod.

“Maybe the nurses made it wrong,” Taryn suggests, and I arch a brow at her. “What? Mistakes happen.” She shrugs, mumbling under her breath, “Clearly.”

I choose to ignore her snide remark. “If that’s the case, they’re all dead.”

“Whoa, hang on,” Vivi warns. “That’s a pretty steep price to pay for what’s normally considered a good thing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a good thing to me.” The words barrel out of me before I can stop them. And then they just hang there in the air like grotesque festoons.

The silence that follows is unbearably sharp. So sharp it feels as if someone has punctured my lungs with a shard of it. I don’t feel bad about my outburst, because what I said was true. I just feel ashamed for having spoken the thought aloud. It’s not really the kind of thing a normal person would say about their unborn child. Though, I feel maybe that just reinforces my theory.

Either way, I am so out of sorts I can’t keep track of what to say and what to keep to myself. I am entirely unmoored.

“I’m going to bed,” I say in a frayed sort of voice. “Excuse me.”

I duck out of the kitchen.

It is a ridiculous excuse. It’s only a little past midday by faerie standards. But I don’t think I can bear their judgement much longer.

Tonight, I will allow myself to cower, because it is the only thing I presently know to do.

When I’m back in my makeshift room, which is actually Heather’s office space turned guest bedroom, I close the door softly behind me and lean against it.

I can’t breathe without tremors racking my body. It feels like air is being forced into my lungs, one long wave of breath that rises and rises but never crests. This feeling claws at my chest. I’m afraid it will never stop.

All these years, I’ve resented Vivi for treating me like I couldn’t handle myself, like I was in over my head. Now, I think that maybe she’s been right all along. I’m in way too far over my head.

I feel sick to my stomach. One hand raises on its own accord, coming to rest on my belly. I snatch it away instantly.

To steady the panic, I set small goals for myself.

Stop leaning against the door.

Stand up straight.

Walk over to the satchel in the corner of the room.

Find nightclothes.

I change into my pyjamas, biting my lip hard the whole time to keep from crying. When I slip under the sheets and turn out the light, I haven’t shed one tear.

I guess that’s a small kind of accomplishment, too.

☽☽☽☽☽

AN: This fic has been in the works since June and I’m so happy to finally be putting the first part out into the world! The next chapter will be less angsty, I promise.

I hope you enjoyed reading this. If you did, reblogs and comments are highly, highly appreciated. It may take me a little bit but I WILL respond to every single one—they truly make my day. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, just let me know!

Back to the forest now.

-Em 🖤💫

Chapter Title Inspo: Kiwi by Harry Styles

Tag List: @velarhysismine @knifewifejude @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @courtofjurdan @nightbringer @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @whocares-idont @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @storiesandschemes @jurdanhell @poeticbrownmermaid @thechainofiron @random-llama-socks @villanellevi @lady-thea-of-narnia @b00kworm @flowersinvegas @vanessa172003 @cardanstrickytail @queen-of-glass @judiecardan @words-of-the-wise @scarznstars @charincharge @fizziefaerie @fateandluminary @tessas-herondales @styles-taylor @jyoti96 @losssssstttttt @transbordeamento @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer @woodsbeyond1 @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @m-like-magic1-blog @dorkzrul @whataboutmyfries @livelovereading123 @queenofgreenbriar @ireallyshouldsleeprn @lifeminuspickles @df3ndyr @christalpaez @hurema @the-poets-muse @rhysandsrightknee @alta-lok143 @aknymph @iammissstark @st00pid231 @disco-tits1 @the-third-me @cardanslittletail @katexrenee @fandomfanatic987 @justtryintolivemybestlife @hopefullyanauthor @junipersuns @curlyredqueen06 @emmabookworm08 @thebookish-fangirl @pig-on-acid @theoceanfaewriter @acourtofbookworms @theirownconstellation @violamom

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Worry, I’m Here

So I ended up writing a part 2 to this

And crossposted both chapters to AO3

sorry for all the recent angst, i blame the recent chapter lol

Summary: Alternate epilogue-like ending if SNK chapter 138 didn’t occur

(italicized portions reference chapter 1!)

Chapter 2

“It’s your turn,” Erwin said with a warm smile. “I’m thinking they all need you right now.”

“Maaaaan, this is a lot of work isn’t it? Why did he ask me to watch over everyone! I thought I’d finally get to take a goddamn break when I got here…”

“Stop joking around, Hange, we all know you’re happy to do it,” Mike said. “And at least he can’t smell you when you cross over—can’t believe you alone could stink up the whole afterlife,” he teased.

Hange playfully shoved Mike into Erwin as they burst into laughter. She smiled big at the both of them. “See you morons later!” she yelled back.

“Hange-san, don’t forget to check on Connie and Niccolo for me! Let me know how good Connie’s pranks have gotten, and if Niccolo has gotten any better at tolerating him,” Sasha added.

“Of course, dear,” Hange said with a smile. She waved back at the three as she opened the door to go see everyone back home.

— She breathed in the cool, summer morning air and walked down a cobblestone path in town, smelling the decadent aroma of bread lingering over the bakery just ahead. She peered through the window, seeing Connie poking holes through bread dough, making something that looked like a little mask for himself, squishing it onto his face. Niccolo turned around the corner holding a box of pastries and threw them straight into the air, croissants showering down from the ceilings. “Connie, stop startling me like this!” he whined as he looked at all the pastries now all over the place, a massacre of flaky crumbs on the floor. The sound of Connie’s laugh was music to Hange’s ears. She took another whiff of the sweet smell and laughed as she watched Connie sadly pick up the croissants while Niccolo lectured him—“They’re doing well, Sasha,” she whispered to herself.

As she continued on her stroll, she saw Onyankopon walking alongisde Pieck. After hurrying over to walk alongside the two, she waved hello at both of them—sometimes she forgot they couldn’t see her whenever she came to visit.

“That’s so sweet, Onyankopon,” Pieck said as he flipped through a small book in his hand. “Oh, it wasn’t just me—without Armin I would have never gotten this all to work out.” Hange’s eyes glimmered with happy tears—she was so proud of her successor. She wanted to see him, but unfortunately it would probably have to wait for her next trip down here.

“I’m sure Hange-san would have loved it, no way we couldn’t publish all her hard work on titan research. Something that generations can learn about—real truth in books for them to read, to understand why they all dedicated their hearts,” he said, balling his other hand into a fist, gently tapping his chest with it, right over his own heart. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“And what do you have there?” he asked Pieck with a curious look in his eye. “Oh, just another record for Levi,” she said as she ran her hand over the smooth case. "I think he’d like this album.” Hange whispered a small thank you right by Pieck’s ear, happy that she continued to help Levi, and that their little record player was being put to good use.

Onyankopon patted Pieck on the back. “Well, please send the Captain my regards, and let him know that Hange’s texts should be published soon!” Pieck gave him a little smile and waved as she walked towards the forest path. Hange was about to follow her to see the little grump, but she stopped herself, sad to wait a little longer to see him. “Not yet, a few more I have to check on first,” she said to herself as she turned left, heading in the opposite direction from Pieck.

A familiar, warm voice echoed behind her, “Hi Pieck!”

Hange spun around to see Jean and Mikasa walking up from the forest path passing right by Pieck. "Just the people she was looking for!" Hange exclaimed, and smiled warmly watching her favorite little pair walk hand-in-hand.

“Date night I’m assuming?” Pieck asked. Jean blushed, scratched the back of his head, and responded with a nervous chuckle. Mikasa smiled back at him and left a little kiss on his cheek. “Yes we are, Pieck,” she said with a shy smile. “Are you visiting the Captain?”

“Yes, heading that way now. Are the kids with Levi?” Pieck asked excitedly.

“Absolutely, and Historia’s son as well!” Jean said.

Hange couldn’t help but feel overcome with emotion watching the scene. She was so happy to see them all happy, alive, and well. As the group parted ways, Hange followed Jean and Mikasa up a winding path, snaking up the green grassy hills just beyond the edge of the town.

“A graveyard?” Hange asked aloud, both hands instinctively gripping at both sides of her head. “That’s your date night?? Jean, what are you doing?? This is not what I taught you!” She tried grabbing at his shirt to turn them right around. “This isn’t even an Ackerman-related issue, this is just common sense, you idiot!” She ran around them in a frenzy, so distracted that she didn’t even realize who they were actually trying to visit.

“Thanks, Jean. Sorry to ask you for the detour. I know our reservations are—“

Jean quietly pushed a small bouquet of sunflowers into her hands, and stared into her eyes, his expression telling her that he wanted to be here too. Mikasa gave him a quick peck on the cheek and she placed the flowers down onto the grass as they sat down together, knees bent and elbows resting on them. He wrapped his arm around Mikasa as they stared at the headstone, Hange’s name etched neatly into the rock.

“These were her favorite, yknow?”

“I know.”

The wind whistled by their ears, leaving cool kisses on the tops of their heads, bringing them a moment of sweet relief from the heat as the sun began to rise higher into the sky.

“Sometimes, I feel like she never left,” Jean whispered.

Hange sat behind the two of them, arms encasing them in her embrace, and kissed the tops of their heads. She smiled at Jean’s words—“I never did,” she said softly into their ears. She tried to wipe the tears from Mikasa’s eyes with her sleeve. “So don’t be sad.”

Time was almost up, so Hange hurried her way down the path, and stole one last glance at the two. She smiled when she saw Jean lay his head on Mikasa’s shoulder. She couldn’t wait to do the same with the other Ackerman on her mind.

She stared at the little cabin, pangs of heartache clawing at her chest—her one and only regret. But the pain melted away as she heard the sound of children’s laughter escaping through the open window. She walked in to find a little boy and a little girl stumbling around, toddlers still getting used to their legs, their little minds still figuring out how fast they could go before falling over. Her heart melted as she watched the two.

She wondered where Levi was, but he didn’t keep her waiting—he never did. He walked through the doorway of the kitchen into the room where the two kids were running around, holding two mugs of tea. He then walked out onto the front porch and set one of the teas down next to him, steam rising from the cup, drawing Hange towards it with its familiar aroma. Just the way she liked it.

She turned to Levi, looking him up and down, drinking in every bit of his appearance, from every wrinkle in his white, button-up shirt to every strand of hair on his head. She laughed as she counted a few grey hairs peeking through the deep sea of black, and gently ran her hand through this hair. He looked rested, a rare sight for her to see, and nothing could make her happier. She left kisses on his cheek and wrapped her arms around him—she never wanted to let go.

Sunlight wrapped around Levi’s body like a hug, the cool breeze softly ruffled his hair and left cool kisses on his face—sweet relief in the summer heat. “Thanks, Hange,” he thought. He pressed his fingers up to his face, feeling the soft, smooth fabric of her eye patch covering his right eye and smiled.

“You’re welcome, shorty,” she whispered as she held onto him tightly.

As he went back inside, she followed him and sat down right next to him as he pulled out his little journal.

“My notes?”

She stared at Levi, his eyes filled with happiness as he read over every inside joke she scribbled into the margins—she was a little embarrassed about him reading all of that, but overall happy nonetheless.

The two toddlers suddenly jumped up onto his lap breaking him out of his trance. “Uncle Levi, can you please tell us a story??” they chimed together, staring at him with cute little puppy-dog eyes. He nodded.

“Yay!!!” They yelled in unison. They both sat on either side of him on the couch and stared up at him with eager eyes.

Hange sat right next to the three of them, ready to hear Levi’s story—she wondered what he’d come up with. She was ready to laugh at the inevitable constipated look on his face as he tried to conjure up a story for them.

“Once upon a time there were two best friends. They were the strongest heroes everyone knew. They climbed giant walls and looked at the vast lands in front of them from the top of it, knowing it’d all be theirs once they defeated the big, bad titans!”

Hange chuckled at the kids’ excitement.

“They jumped on their necks and cast a spell and they’d disappear!”

“Good call, Levi, I was scared you’d start saying we slashed them up or something,” she said with a small laugh.

They did this for many years until all of them were finally gone. The two best friends were happy and searched for more land to see and explore until they found the big blue ocean. Water that was salty and laid home to many creatures both friendly and dangerous. Now there were more bad guys on the other side of the ocean but they were a little different than titans, and they looked like you and me so it was much harder to defeat them. So the two best friends tried to find a way to win. They went on adventures together trying to figure out their secrets until they almost died trying to do that.”

Levi hesitated.

Hange’s eyes softened at seeing him like this, so she wrapped her arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“And one day one of the best friends asked the other if they wanted to live in the forest together, and leave their younger, smart and powerful comrades to defeat the bad guys.”

He paused once more, and took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Levi, keep going—the kids are waiting,” she whispered.

“And the other best friend said yes. Their comrades won the battle and the two best friends lived happily ever after in the forest. The end.”

He looked down at the two children, who nuzzled their heads into his lap and were now fast asleep. Jean’s kid snored loudly and drooled over his pants, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “Oh Hange, I wish you could be here too...” Levi said aloud. He felt tears well up behind his eyes but he blinked them away.

“Don’t worry, Levi. I’m here.” Hange tried to wipe away his tears with her sleeve before she began to wipe her own.

His mind went to the last page of his book of Hange’s notes:

“I hope Levi could live a long life and be happy for the rest of his days. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing him experience happiness behind his dumb scowl. And Levi if you come across this someday, remember that I love you and goddammit try to smile or something in front of someone other than me!”

Levi of course memorized these words, and repeated them in his head as he ran his fingers softly through the children’s hair as they slept.

She drank in the bittersweet moment—watching him smile through his pain. He was trying so hard for her, and it made her heart ache. She hoped that he was genuinely trying to find happiness through all of this. But she knew it was nothing he couldn’t handle. She was always watching him, after all.

Hange felt a pull at her shoulders—time was just about up for today. She peppered his face with kisses, hoping that he might feel them.

A gentle breeze blew through the open window, leaving sweet, cool kisses on his face. He swore he could hear her voice, whispering “Love you, Shorty,” in his ear.

“Love you, Shorty,” Hange whispered as she stood up to leave. She visited him every week, but it was still difficult for her to leave each time.

“Stupid four-eyes,” he thought. He breathed in memories of her and promised he’d try to live the rest of his days happily and smiling just as she wished for him.

“Til next time, Levi,” she said softly, as she closed the window behind her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #jean kirschstein #mikasa ackerman #jeankasa #levihan fanfiction #snk #aot #snk manga spoilers #snk chapter 138 #snk 138 #niccolo #onyankopon #pieck finger

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years ago

Note

pippin👏 with👏a👏tall👏reader👏 (could you make it veryyyy fluffy?) ((also the reader is human oop))

Big Heart

Fluff and Humor (also a touch of Angst)

----

You met the little hobbit, Pippin, on the journey to destroy the One Ring.

It was by chance that you managed to run into them during their time in Rohan, but completely by design that you ended up their escort to Gondor.

You were one of the best riders and horse tamers in Rohan, so it was only natural that you'd be sent as their guide since the mission was so vital.

And, as time went on, you began to develop feelings for said hobbit.

His mischievousness and humor drew you in easily, and you've never met anyone who could make you laugh as much as him. It was only natural that his winning personality, and ridiculous decisions, would capture your heart eventually.

It's funny, because he wasn't even trying. He's just a natural comedian I suppose (as is his cousin, Merry, who you're also quite fond of).

After all was said and done and the battle for Middle Earth ended, you opted to join the hobbits on their whttps://archiveofourown.org/works/17413022/chapters/70134579/edit#ay back to The Shire and keep them all safe and healthy during their travels even though you and Pippin haven't... discussed anything as of yet.

And, the day before you were scheduled to leave and head back for Rohan, Merry and Pippin approached you sheepishly and asked if you would like to stick around a bit longer.

Now you agreed of course, why wouldn't you? There's nothing left for you back in Rohan, there never really was in the first place other than your title and reputation as a good rider.

Staying in The Shire is nice and all, but there are some things about it that really, really bother you. The scale of everything being one of those things.

The ceiling are low, and the hobbits are even lower than that. You've bumped your head on Pippins high ceilings many times, always forgetting to duck down low since your height was never an issue (much less a factor ) in Rohan.

You'll probably get used to it eventually, but, are you even planning on staying long enough to get used to it? It's not like you've moved there or anything, they just asked you to stay longer.

You and Pippin really need to have a talk.

When this realization hits you, you decide to idly wait in his dinning room while he's out and about.

Now you may be wondering, what on earth does Pippin have to do during the day?

Getting into trouble with Merry, of course!

Sometimes they steal, sometimes they do odd jobs for the other hobbits in The Shire, but, most of the time, they just hang around and smoke outside in the lovely weather.

You, on the other hand, chose to stay inside and enjoy some time to yourself up until these thoughts began to cloud your thoughts.

It isn't until the sun begins to set and the firebugs begin to roam that Pippin comes home, and he returns to a pot of tea and some freshly, baked scones.

It's hard as shit to cook in this tiny little cramped kitchen, but you made it work and the end product was fluffy, flaky, and delicious (so maybe they're more like biscuits).

As soon as the blond-haired hobbit walks in you greet him from the other room, settling on one of the too small chairs with your knees that hit the edge of the table.

He walks into the room you're in and greets you cheerily, zeroing in on the food like someone who has been starving for the last week. It was expected, though, because he's always hungry (even for someone as small as himself).

"Be sure to spare some, Pippin." You warn with a joking edge to your voice, eyeing him with a falsely stern stare, "You need to leave some for me."

Pippin only smiles at you with those shiny white pearls of his and snatches two of the breads from the plate they rest on, "Does one sound fair? It sounds fair to me."

You stare at him blankly and don't offer any sort of quirk our lips or even an eye-crinkle, making it seem like you're wholly unamused by his jokes.

His smile slowly fades when you take on this sudden no nonsense attitude, and you find that you can't keep up the 'unhappy' facade for too long.

Almost in unison do the both of you burst out with laughter, because, clearly, neither of you were actually taking this situation seriously.

You could never joke around like this or enjoy yourself in the likes of Rohan, you had no one to share such moments with in the first place, but it's quite shocking to realize just how much you needed this.

How much longer could your mind have survived such a monotone and honor obsessed environment? This is the exact change of pace that you needed if you wanted to live through your 20's and not die of boredom. What's so fun or great about being a good horse rider anyways? Well, actually, to be fair it was fun at one point, but then it became your job and everyone had such high expectations that it kind of just sucked the fun out of the one thing that didn't leave you stultified to no end.

Anyways, the both of you cease your laughing eventually and you proceed to swipe and snack on one of those little treats you made, noticing the way that the both of you fall into a mostly comfortable silence.

Your gaze drifts back over to the hobbit sitting in the hair adjacent to yours and you find that he's already looking at you with an expectant edge to his gaze.

Everyone treats him like an idiot, but he's not so much stupid as he is unwise and foolish. He could sense there was some sort of unease rolling off of your shoulders and making the atmosphere slightly tense, definitely not something an idiot could notice so easily.

"You've got something to tell me. Or is it something you want to ask?" He's all business now.

"Yes, I do." You confirm with a shallow nod, gaze flickering over his face, "Something has been troubling me as of recent."

His blond curls bounce a bit when he nods his ascent to continue, and the movement draws your eyes as your brain begins to wander in search of a good way to approach the subject bothering you.

"Truthfully, Pippin, I haven't a clue what I am doing here anymore. You asked me to come to The Shire and I did, and then you asked me to stay, and I did that as well, but we are reaching a point where motivations and reasonings are becoming sparse. I know what my intentions are, and though I have not made them quite clear, which is what we need to talk about. What are we doing, Pippin?"

When you finish speaking your piece and look back at him again, you see that his head is hanging slightly and he refuses to look at you almost.

His eyes are sad and it makes your heart pang painfully in your chest.

"I... I am not so sure myself. I asked you to stay because I... um, Merry and I, don't wish to see you go." He puts down the hardly eaten 'scone' and scoots his chair closer to yours, looking up at you with a slight frown, "If I'm being honest, I can hardly imagine what it would be like if you were to leave, now."

"Yes, I know that much. But what am I doing here? I have little purpose at the time being, all I do is sit here or outside all day and do nothing . I wait around for you to get back because you and Merry never invite me to your schemes, and you do not invite me because I stick out. Literally."

You surprise even yourself with this 'outburst' because you thought your insecurities were only Pippin-deep. As much fun as you have with Pippin, you still feel like an outsider. Who do you talk to really besides Pippin, Merry, and sometimes Sam.

He looks even more sad than before, and you realize it probably sounds like you're thinking of leaving.

"I suppose feeling purposeless just bothers me-"

"I-I don't want you to go." He starts, surprising you slightly since he never really interrupts anyone. "You never treat me like a fool, and you always listen to what I have to say even when I don't make sense. Like, now I suppose. But it is more than that, too. T-The way I am and I feel when you are around is unlike anything I've known before, and, well, I don't wish to lose that or you."

You sit and listen quietly while he pours his little hobbity heart out and even wait some more after that, because this is exactly what you've been wanting in terms of communication.

"It's strange, you know I'm not usually like this, but even thinking about you leaving at this point is painful. Would I be too hasty in saying that I...," he trails off, seemingly contemplating what he needs to say next, "I may have fallen for you?"

There it is, that's exactly what you were waiting, and hoping, for.

"No, it wouldn't be. I've confessed as much myself already; in fact, I'd say you were quite late in saying it." You can't help but to tease him, and it appears to work out well for you because his face flushes and a sheepish expression softens his determined countenance. "Well, anyway. That is all well and good, but I must also say that it doesn't change my lack of excitement. And since you are the one keeping me here, it is your responsibility to mend this fact."

His forehead creases as he thinks it over and his mouth twists with thought, then his eyes light up and he smiles brightly. "Well, Merry and I could get you into all sorts of trouble, if you ask us to. We don't leave you out because you're too tall, we do it because you do not seem to be the scheming type.”

Well, that’s fair. And also unexpected. The whole ‘height thing’ was your primary suspect, but it seems like you’ll have to let it go.

“You don’t know that for sure. I can scheme like no other if I choose to. I just… do not normally choose to, is all. Take me with you, I demand it.”

The lightheartedness returns, and it successfully brings up the mood as well.

You reach your hand across the table and place it over his carefully, offering a fond and warm smile to him which he returns in kind. What a strange thing, being comforted by someone half your size with double the personality that you possess.

“Alright, Merry will be excited to hear that.”

“He’d better be.”

"But...," he trails off and you fall silent to show him he has your full attention, "I wouldn't be truthful if I were to say that I haven't had my own troubles."

You nod your head once and allow your hand to fall back to your lap.

"I think you are beautiful. One of the loveliest people I have ever seen, meanwhile I... am a short, foolish hobbit that few people take seriously. Surely you could have, and do, more than what I offer. A hobbit hole with... low ceilings that your forehead has met many times and clutter in almost every corner."

You're shocked that such a thing could bother someone as uncaring as Pippin - well, uncaring in a sense that he doesn't care for others opinions on himself - and it pulls at your heart strings.

"Pippin, if I had any care for something as trivial as height then I would be a hypocrite. If you're too short then I must be much too tall. And if your house is a mess than Rohan must be incomprehensibly disastrous." All of these things are true in your eyes, and you hope to help him see through the same lens as you. "Those things matter to me not, I wish I had made you understand that sooner."

He smiles at you and you smile back, and in this moment you feel at peace. A couple of shared words won't immediately extinguish the insecurities and issues that have come to surface over time, but they make it easier to bear.

"Besides, you may not be a big person, but that heart of yours is one of the biggest I've ever had the pleasure of benefitting from."

He blushes again, and it does things to your heart.

You never thought you'd fall in love with someone so short and mischievous, but here you are.

It's peculiar.

"Well, I suppose we should seek out Merry. I'm ready to get into some trouble."

"That makes two of us."

#pippin took #pippin took x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #reader insert #reade #Peregrin Took #LOTR fandom

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smallblip · 4 years ago

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Bi wife energy

“Bi wife energy, he has bi wife energy...”

It’s not like Pieck hasn’t noticed them staring from across the pub. It’s just she’d rather not afford more attention to the situation than it deserves. But she does have to admit it’s rather weird. It started out with a few furtive glances thrown her way by the one with the glasses, and now her companion is staring too. She tugs at the sleeve of her companion, the angry little man with a look that could kill, perhaps she finally noticed that the staring is a little over the top obvious. Pieck notices that she’s now darting her eyes from her drink to Pieck and back again so quick and so unnaturally that Pieck doesn’t know whether to be concerned or amused. They whisper some things to one another, bicker a bit and then it’s back to staring.

Her father always tells her it’s rude to stare at people (because Pieck has a penchant for staring). But Pieck figures if they’re already staring it’s okay to stare back? So she does? She even offers a smile their direction. The brunette immediately whips her head away, pretending instead to develop a fixation on the straw in her now empty glass. The angry little man however, grows angrier. He returns her smile with a scowl. Where are her friends goddamn it why do they all have to be so flaky.

Pieck checks her phone.

Annie: will be late.

Typical.

Bertholdt: missed the bus, walking over now! Sorry!

Also typical.

Porco: almost there babes...

When Porco says he’s almost there it means he just left his apartment. So that’s great.

Reiner: found this cat on my way. Now I can’t leave.

Reiner attaches a picture of said cat rubbing itself against his legs. Pieck has to admit, Reiner’s the only one with a valid excuse so far.

Reiner: I think he likes me.

Pieck is about to ask for more pictures of the cat when she spots the scowling man in her periphery vision. God he’s approaching her. And his friend is just watching from where she’s sat, something like horror spreading across her face.

The man stops beside her and clears his throat. Pieck braces for whatever it is that’s about to come out of his mouth. She’s no stranger to strange men making strange advances on her in the pub. So Pieck can definitely handle herself. They usually give up after finding she’s more quick-witted than they’re comfortable with. But none of them looked remotely as annoyed as this one.

“Excuse me...” the man says.

And Pieck smiles at him once more, curiosity pricking at her brain, one part of her intrigued by the entire situation. Because if he’s here to hit on her, why is he so goddamn angry. Maybe he lost a bet? She did see them discussing something at length.

“Hmm?” She says, part of her wondering if she should say something smart ease the tension.

“Look. I’m Levi. That idiot over there? That’s my wife Hanji.” He gestures over at their table, and Pieck sees Hanji sneaking glances their way. Oh? This is interesting. Pieck straightens. “My wife has been giving me grief the entire night because she thinks you’re really cute and she wouldn’t shut up about it. But she also refuses to talk to you so I’m here to do it for her so I can move on with my life.” Levi sighs and rubs at his temples, “so if you are alright with it, my wife would like to buy you a sampler platter...”

Pieck throws her head back to laugh, “a sampler platter?”

Levi groans, “please don’t ask...”

Her laugh settles into giggles, “Tell your wife I’m very flattered... And that I very much appreciate her compliment!” Pieck beams, waving at Hanji who has now hidden half her face behind a menu. Hanji peeks her head over the top of the laminated pages and waves back sheepishly. Adorable. “And that if she feels braver I would love to say hi!”

Porco and Reiner arrive first and already they’re jostling when Porco realises they can’t both fit through the door at the same time and decides to shove ahead of him.

“Whoa... What’s with the sampler platter?” Reiner asks, already reaching for a particularly fat potato wedge.

Pieck giggles and gestures discretely over to a couple sitting and chatting a couple of tables away. “My new friend Levi brought it over... Courtesy of his wife Hanji who’s still too shy to come say hi...”

“But why?” Porco frowns, already popping an onion ring in his mouth.

Pieck shrugs, “because he loves his wife and his wife is bi?”

#inspired by that one song on tiktok #because Levi has massive bi wife energy #he’s also bi himself but yes we get it #Drabble #Levi x hange #mine #Pieck finger #warriors #Pieck #levihan

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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Fighting fiber was the right's dumbest self-own

With the deplatforming of forums where trumpists and right-wing figures congregate, there's a lot of chatter about whether and when private entities have the right to remove speech, and what obligations come with scale.

The most important - and overlooked - area of this discourse is the role that monopoly plays, and the role that anti-monopoly enforcement could play.

In short, the fact that being removed from Twitter and the app stores and Facebook and Amazon is so devastating is best addressed by weakening those companies by spreading out our digital life onto lots of platforms.

Not by strengthening them by giving them formal duties to either carry or remove speech based on its content. These duties will justify all kinds of anticompetitive activity, because only a very profitable company can afford to fulfil them.

It also turns the same companies that failed horribly to craft and uphold moderation standards into private-sector arms of powerful state actors (like domestic surveillance agencies) who defend their right to monopolize the digital sphere as necessary for national security.

(recall that the Pentagon intervened in the DoJ's breakup of AT&T in the 1950s, successfully arguing for a stay of execution on the grounds that the Korean War could not be effectively persecuted without AT&T's help - the company stayed intact for 30 years after that)

Competition in the platforms is important, but it's not the whole story. The First Amendment was drafted for newspapers, and most contemporary communications law comes from broadcast and cable regulation. The internet is not a newspaper or a TV station, after all.

The discussion of the difference between the American revolutionary era (or the heyday of broadcast TV) and the present moment focuses on technology, but there's a much more important difference to take account of: the presence or absence of a public sphere.

The First Amendment contemplates both a diversity of speech forums (newspapers, cafes, halls) alongside of public spaces that are *truly* public, owned by the people through their governments and tightly bound by 1A as to when and whether rules about speech can be enforced.

So if the Masonic Lodge won't let you give a speech from its stage, and the cafe throws you out for arguing, and the newspaper won't let you publish an op-ed, you can stand outside of those establishments with a sign or a bullhorn, leafleting and speaking your piece.

The government can still restrict your speech on the public sidewalk or in a public park, but not according to its content - only according to "time and manner" (for example, enforcing a noise ordinance after 9PM or ticketing you for blocking traffic).

The biggest difference between a world where we are locked indoors and connect to one another via the internet and the world we left behind is that there are *no public spaces* on the internet.

If a cafe kicks you out for your speech, you can picket the public right of way out front. If Twitter kicks you out for your views, you have no constitutionally guaranteed right to stand at its digital threshold and tell everyone who enters or leaves that you got a raw deal.

Now, the state provision of digital services isn't an unmitigated good. US governments at all levels have proven themselves to be utterly surveillance-addled, in thrall to the fallacy that spying on everyone will make us all safer.

But surveillance fears aren't why we lack democratically controlled tech. For that, you can thank the same right wingers who are so exorcised about deplatforming today, who, for a decade, have been the useful idiots of telcoms monopolists in the fight over public broadband.

American cable and telco monopolists have divided up the country so that the best most of us can hope for is a duopoly, while many others are burdened with monopoly carriers, and millions live in broadband deserts with no high-speed internet at all.

The poorer you are, the more your broadband costs and the worse it is. The more rural you are, the worse your broadband is and the more it costs. Homeowners with good broadband see their assets appreciate. If your home is outside a monopolist's profit zone, its price drops.

The internet barons like it that way. When Frontier went bankrupt last year, we got to see its internal docs. Guess what? If you have no choice other than Frontier, it treats you as an "asset" because you will pay more for worse service.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/04/frontiers-bankruptcy-reveals-cynical-choice-deny-profitable-fiber-millions

Frontier cares about its share price (its execs are mostly paid in stock, not cash), and share prices are rigged by influential analysts who downrank any company that makes a capitol expenditure that takes more than five years to pay off.

That's why Frontier decided to walk away from the $800,000,000 in profits it would realize on a ten-year investment in fiber for three million households who currently make do with Frontier's failing copper network, which often consists of wires draped over trees.

We've been here before. For decades, you had to live in an urban, affluent area to get electricity; your country cousins burned coal for dinner and used oil-lamps to read by. The New Deal electrified the nation, extending universal service regardless of the business-case.

Electricity became a human right, and the US government extended it across the nation (though structural racism meant that it arrived late for majority Black settlements).

Long before covid, underserved towns realized that their very existence depended on decent broadband.

The initial experiments with municipal fiber were incredible, jaw-dropping successes. Towns that invested in fiber saw a vast expansion of job opportunities, access to global information and services, and new blood from telecommuters who relocated from big cities.

The telcos fucking hated this. How can you sell flaky access to copper wires draped over shrubs for $80/month when the city is wiring people up to networks that are *1,000-100,000 times faster* at a lower price?

In a competitive market, companies would have improved service and lowered prices to compete. Luckily (for monopolists), there's a cheaper solution: buy off state legislatures so they pass laws banning municipal broadband.

These laws were promulgated to GOP-dominated statehouses across the country, passed by right wing lawmakers who told their constituents they were "keeping government out of the internet."

This is a line that their footsoldiers dutifully parroted during the Obama years, then signed up to Trump FCC Chairman Ajit Pai's order that reversed a late-term-Obama FCC order banning state laws that interfered with municipal fiber project.

Unfortunately (for the right), reality has a well-known left-wing bias. 700+ US towns and cities have municipal fiber. They are the only Americans who consistently express satisfaction with their ISPs. Most of these towns vote Republican!

https://muninetworks.org/communitymap

Woe betide the rural "red" town that lacks municipal fiber. These have been mostly abandoned by cable companies, so their cable/DSL duopoly has become a DSL monopoly, with prices rising and quality of service falling.

https://ilsr.org/monopoly-networks/

Which brings me back to the First Amendment and public sidewalks. All those people who are trying to find a way to support the "free market*" and also justify demanding that dominant platforms be ordered to carry their speech are living in a hell of their own making.

* Adam Smith popularized the term "free markets" to describe markets free from "rentiers" who collect money without adding value...such as cable monopolists. He *definitely* didn't mean "markets free from government regulation."

Because here's the thing: your ISP - and Twitter, and Facebook, and Amazon - is a private company. It is not subject to the First Amendment. It can have any rules it wants about which lawful speech it will tolerate. It can sling your ass out the door on a whim.

You know who's bound by the First Amendment? You know who can't suppress your speech based on its content? You know who has to answer public records requests about why you got booted out of its service?

Your local government.

If you had a $70/month, 100GB fiber in your rural house, you could run a kickass P2P messaging server, and while you'd be right to worry about (covert, illegal) government surveillance (use encryption, kids) on that line, you would 100% have recourse if you got booted off.

It's not an automatic home run. The First Amendment has exceptions, even beyond "time and manner," and has been substantially eroded by GW Bush and his successors, in the name of fighting terror, animal rights activists and water defenders.

But a lawsuit against your town council for nuking your Turner Diaries fanfic server is a hell of a lot more likely to succeed than griping about Twitter mods failing to grasp the "irony" in your Auschwitz jokes.

The right's war on municipal broadband was its biggest self-own of the 2010s. And while it's not true that "a conservative is a liberal who's been mugged," it might be true that "a municipal broadband activist is a conservative who's been kicked off Twitter."

And this is one of those causes (like shutting down private prisons, or opposing foreign wars of aggression) where a substantial slice of the left and the right can come together (at the most local of levels!) to really Get Shit Done.

Because the other great victims of America's monopolized broadband are people of color, poor people and working class people (often the same people). They live with digital redlining, where they pay 2X for 1/100th the speeds of their affluent neighbors a block away.

They're the ones whose kids are doing homework in Taco Bell parking lots (and getting flunked on their tests because creepy remote proctoring services penalize them for taking their tests in a beat up hatchback and not a private room).

The ones who can't videoconference with dying relatives in ICUs or doctors for telemed consults. Who can't apply for work-at-home jobs, or just play games and watch movies and upload their fun Tiktoks and Youtube videos.

The current system serves about 300 senior execs at telco monopolists, and a few thousand investors, and savagely fucks over everyone else. Even rich people in big cities usually can't buy fiber at any price.

It's time for our four decade Atlas Shrugged LARP to end. It's time for a bipartisan fiber consensus.

Image: Olaus Linn (modified) https://thenounproject.com/term/tin-can-phone/15140/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

#pluralistic

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naerysthelonesome · 4 years ago

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Time spent together

Part 2

Coffee shop AU

Lit’s standing in front of a small café (It’s called The Grind. I sure hope Apollo picked it on purpose), and trying not to looked pissed off that his partner’s nearly half an hour late.

He did push (pulled first, obviously) the door open and walk inside, almost making it to the counter, before turning and walking right back out for no discernable reason. I do wish I knew how his brain worked.

I mean, as the narrator, I could choose to narrate the functions of his mind, but where’s the fun in that, really?

Lit makes a frustrated noise and shoves his phone back into his pocket, and stares into the distance for a second, before re-adjusting the strap of his bag. He hesitates for a little bit and then makes to leave.

This is not going how I want it to. The story of the indecisive Lityerses and flaky Apollo is not one I am excited to share.

Ah wait. Is that Apollo rounding the corner? And what an opportune moment he’s picked. Right when Lityerses is making his way toward it, so they can slam into each other. Very well executed. (If you’re imaging me actually pleased about any of this, you’re doing it wrong. Nothing these idiots do surprises me anymore).

So Lit’s steadier than I expected. Despite the stand-up blond barreling into him, it’s not him who flies into the wall. He just gasps loudly and stumbles, as Apollo groans.

“Oh thank heavens!” the blond exclaims, standing back up.

Lit doesn’t say or do anything but glare back at him. And WHAT a glare it is too.

“Dude I’m sorry. Totally forgot I had a Math extra class today. Hope you didn’t have to wait too long”, Apollo says sheepishly. He looks… ashamed? Embarrassed? Genuinely sorry? The dude’s so smitten, I’d be grossed out if I didn’t ship these two.

“I’ve been here since 2:45, so yeah. I kinda did have to wait too long”.

“Well I’ll make it up to you. Drinks on me?” he asks, hopefully.

Lit glares some more, but then stalks back toward The Grind. Apollo heaves a sigh of relief, and so do I.

He follows Lit inside, chewing slowly at his lip.

I do so love this café. The hushed ambience, the overpowering smell of coffee and cream, the pretty barista with a shock of electric blue hair. It's when I see people like her that I start to wish I had a physical body. But then, looking at whatever the hell Lit and Apollo are doing, I've decided romance is way too much work.

Lit walks right up to the counter, and smiles most graciously at the girl. Who knew Lit could be gracious? He turns on the charm, mutters some pleasantries, and orders one of the most expensive coffees on the menu, without so much as a glance at Apollo.

The blondie looks a little disconcerted. I suppose he isn’t used to Lit being not-flustered. That makes two of us. Angry Lit is really growing on me though, not gonna lie.

He thanks blue and walks off to find somewhere to sit, still not acknowledging Apollo. The latter is growing more rattled by the second, and honestly? I’m so here for it.

He quickly places an order, throws a characteristically dazzling, fake smile, and rushes to follow Lit to the table he’s picked by the window. The brunet’s already got a book and a note pad out on the table, and is currently looking up something on his phone.

Apparently, he wants to keep things as professional as possible. Imagine me scoffing.

“Um”, Apollo says. What an intelligent conversation starter. Truly.

Lit looks up, and raises an eyebrow, absolutely refusing to make things easy for Apollo.

“So…” Apollo stops and clears his throat. “So how do we begin?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve already begun”, Lit snaps, flicking a finger toward the books.

Apollo flushes pink, then tries again. “Okay… Well, what do you want me to do?”

“Oh so now I’m in charge?”

“Come on Lit. You know what I mean”, he pleads.

Lit only huffs in response.

“Okay I know I was late and that you had to wait here for me. I should have called or something. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry”. Colour me shocked. He sounds so sincere.

“Fine. Jeez. Apology accepted or whatever”, Lit says, flicking his hand irritably. He rips off a page from the notepad, and pushes it toward Apollo. “Here. Make a list of all the books you want to reference in the project”.

The blond slowly smiles, just as the cute barista calls out their names.

“I’ll get those”, he says, and practically jumps out of his seat. Aww. So eager to please.

Lit bends his head toward his phone, but I see the smirk that lights up his face for just a second, before he forces himself to look angry again. I have a feeling Litpollo’s going to be just fine.

Apollo comes back with two glasses, one filled with a rich brown liquid and chocolate drizzled around the inside, piled high with cream, and the other with blue water, ice, and more ice.

“So you’re the kind of person that chooses to go to cafes and then buys anything but the coffee. Good to know”.

“No, but I had to try and save my money somehow, after you ordered this monstrosity”, Apollo replies, placing the bigger glass in front of Lit, who’s now scribbling away in his notepad.

Lit just scoffs, and reaches out to take a sip of his drink.

“Pah!” he exclaims. I’m sure the coffee’s delicious.

“It’s so sweet ohmygod”, he groans. Apollo laughs, and it isn’t fake at all.

He hands Lit a tissue, opening his mouth to say something (undoubtedly, stupid), but stops when he sees another one of Lit’s amazing glares.

“Don’t.” the boy warns, as he buries his face in the paper. Apollo smirks, but wisely shuts the fuck up.

Lit finally looks up, and steels himself before taking another sip of the drink. “I’m not one to waste good coffee”, he explains with a shudder and he grimace. That’s… nice?

Apollo picks up his own drink, and brings it to his lips, a contemplating look on his face. Lit looks up at Apollo, as he tucks a stray lock of hair back under his bandana.

“What are you thinking?” he questions, softly. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and I can’t figure out whether that’s a good or bad thing. At least they’re not arguing or talking about stupid projects anymore.

“Oh just making a mental note not to ever get you anything too sweet”, Apollo replies casually.

Lit blushes and chokes on his coffee at that. Bit of an overreaction, methinks.

“You uh- You’re planning on getting me stuff, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and trying to feign nonchalance.

Apollo shrugs, his mouth stretching into a wide smile, “Maybe. Would you like that?” he asks, a teasing note in his voice. I suspect he meant it as a serious question though. Oh goody!

“Ah sure”, Lit replies easily, apparently having gotten a grip on himself, “Free stuff is free stuff, even if from a douchebag like you”. I could really get used to confident Lit!

Apollo grins and lets out a low laugh at that, and it’s like something’s cleared up in the air.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

“No. You’re not”, Lit agrees with a small smile. Then he suddenly sits up straighter, and reaches forward to tap the blank page in front of Apollo, “But you’ll be even less bad, if you actually helped and got some work done”.

“Would that be a good thing though? I was under the impression that you liked bad boys”, he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Just shut up and give me the list Apollo”.

Apollo’s face cracks in a cocky grin, but he begins to write.

Finally. We’re getting somewhere.

#litpollo #litpollo fanfiction #coffee shop au #lityerses #apollo #toa apollo #trials of apollo #unreliable narrator #they're an idiot but i love them

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speuradair · 4 years ago

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Breathless | B.T.

A Byakuya x reader mini fic based on prompt 47 from this list ♡

“A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged”

Word Count: 2k

Contains: vague Trigger Happy Havoc spoilers (?), Tw Anxiety description, mild swearing

Ding dong

The out of place, far too cheery jingle of the morning announcement rang out of the TV, pulling you from your restless, fitful sleep.

It was seven already? You were sure that Byakuya had said he’d come to meet you at 6:45 before this morning’s meeting.

Last night you'd had a particularly nasty anxiety attack, and he'd assured you that he'd stay with you today to make sure you were faring as well as possible.

Yet you’d been left to wake up to the sound of Monokuma’s morning announcement, with your boyfriend running at least fifteen minutes late. That couldn't be right, Byakuya Togami was never late. And there, as if right on cue, that incessant worry tugged at you, choking the air out of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, taking three deep breaths and trying to calm yourself down a bit like he would always tell you to. There had to be a rational, non-fatal reason that he hadn't come to wake you up.

Everything at this school had you completely on edge, and it didn't take much anymore to send you right into a panic attack. Your stomach was in a consistent state of nauseating uneasiness, and your chest often burned in relentless anticipation. You were well aware that you had gone into full paranoia at that point, and while that wasn't unprecedented in this killing game, you also knew that being skittish and distracted wasn't doing you any favors. If you had any intention of defending yourself and doing your part in this investigation, it was necessary to stay as rational and level headed as possible.

Taking another deep breath, you tried to think of all the other possible reasons he wasn't here. Maybe he had gotten distracted by a sudden lead on the mastermind, or maybe he'd been held up by Toko or her equally-as-obsessive counterpart. While you weren't fond of her being so infatuated with your boyfriend, that idea was still much more pleasant than your initial assumption.

One thing you were sure of was that waiting timidly in your room wasn't going to solve anything. He'd probably just gone directly to the cafeteria to meet you, and you'd misunderstood what he'd said last night. That was entirely possible, it was hard to focus when the anxiety took over.

That's what he did, right? It had to be. He wasn't hurt, you'd just gotten confused.

After taking a moment to convince yourself of that, you stood to your feet and headed to the cafeteria yourself.

Though, he wasn't there either. Granted, he hadn’t shown up to a few of the meetings recently, but it was odd that he hadn’t come today after specifically promising you he would. While he usually did whatever he wanted, he was always a man of his word. Subconsciously, your fingers restlessly toyed with the hem of your shirt as the sick feeling in your stomach slowly made itself more prominent.

“Ugh! This is why it’s a pain having such flaky friends!” Aoi groaned, sounding more annoyed than concerned. For once, you hoped he had just flaked out on you.

“We have no choice but to wait for everyone else to arrive.” Sakura was right. It was only fifteen after seven; the others were probably just late. With the general bloody-minded attitude around lately, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that they just weren’t being rigid with timing anymore. Maybe you'd gotten more confused than you'd thought, and he said he'd meet you after the meeting. Right. That had to be it, right? There was no need to panic yet. So you hesitantly sat down next to Makoto at the table and attempted to quell the increasing tightness in your chest.

“Hey, it’s already eight.. They’re over an hour late…” Aoi finally pointed out, cutting into the silence to say what everyone else was thinking. The hollow small talk had died off fairly quickly, leaving the five of you in an uncomfortable quiet as you all tried not to think about what had actually stopped the five others from coming.

“Why has nobody else come?” Sakura’s voice was softer than usual.

“Something’s happened.”

“What?” Makoto sounded shocked as he processed what Kirigiri had said, but surprise was the last thing you were experiencing.

“We let our guard down. We were so focused on Alter Ego that we forgot about Monokuma’s ‘incentive.’ There’s no way it just ended there.”

A tense silence fell upon the room. Nobody had wanted to be the one to say it, but you’d all pretty much come to a unanimous conclusion.

“We should go looking for them, the ones who didn’t show up.” With nobody objecting, Kirigiri continued. “It’s probably best if we split up and search. (Name), you take the dormitory. Check everyone’s bedrooms. Naegi, you search the first floor. I’ll handle the second floor.”

“Alright, then Sakura and I’ve got the third floor!” Even in a situation like this, Asahina maintained her bright demeanor. It would’ve been reassuring if you hadn’t been so preoccupied with the knot of dread tightening in your chest.

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks. If anything happens, call for someone immediately.”

You barely waited for Kirigiri to finish before taking off towards the dorms. Automatically you made a beeline to Byakuya’s room, pressing his doorbell button urgently. Each second that passed without a response felt like an hour. Why wasn’t he answering? It wasn’t like him to sleep in and it wasn’t like him to just snub you like this. Would he snub the others? All the time. But he’d never been dismissive of you, and right now you felt all too aware of that. For the first time, you hoped that he was just being his typical egotistical self. This would be the only time that you would be glad to find out he’d chosen to go to the library instead of choosing to come see you. If he had gone to the library, that meant he was probably still there, oblivious to the concern of his classmates. If he hadn’t, though, and he hadn’t made it to your room this morning…

Refusing to let yourself finish that thought, you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. You’d just ring his doorbell again and check the others’ rooms, then go upstairs to find him in the library yourself.

You reached out to do so with a trembling hand, but a sudden piercing scream made you freeze. Suddenly you couldn’t feel your hands. It was definitely one of the girls, but in your sudden peaked panic, you couldn’t identify the voice completely. You wanted to say that it had been Aoi, but the more you thought about it the less sure you were. Someone had found something upstairs, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to check the library yet.

Someone could’ve found something in the library.

Your neck burned and your legs had joined your hands in that cold, buzzing numbness.

No, you didn’t have the time to think about it; you didn’t have time to give into the anxiety attack clawing at your chest. You just had to get upstairs. After convincing your body to move again, you began to run. If you focused on moving, you wouldn’t have to think about what your mind insisted on thinking about. Just get upstairs.

Though you tried to keep yourself from assuming the worst, intrusive thoughts of what could be awaiting you filled your mind. What if it had been Kirigiri who screamed, and not Aoi? What if she'd checked the library and found the next victim, your boyfriend, dead and cold?

You could see it play out all too well in your mind- you'd be the last to get to the library, and everyone else would be standing around the crime scene in remorseful silence. He'd been too cocky and given the wrong person the perfect opportunity. You'd been too complaisant and now he was gone.

Your legs had gone completely numb as you mindlessly raced up the stairs and down the hallway, but you barely noticed at that point. Your mind was too preoccupied with just getting to the library.

Bracing yourself for the worst, you swung open the heavy wooden door.

But the gut-wrenching shock never came. A warm wave of relief rushed over you as you looked into the room. Contrary to what you'd been expecting, the room was empty save for the familiar blond at one of the bookshelves. There Byakuya stood with a book, completely safe and entirely unphased. You could feel your face again, only now noticing that it was hot and damp with tears. Before you even realized it, you had rushed to him, impulsively pressing your trembling lips to his and throwing your still tingling arms around him as tightly as you could. You gasped as you practically collapsed against him. Finally you could breathe again.

He coughed out a bit from your tight grip and dropped his book, startled. "What exactly do you think you're doing?!"

"Togami, you asshole! I thought it was you!" Your uncharacteristically harsh words made it clear that you were mad at him, but you didn't let go. You didn’t care about adhering to his general rule against public affection, you were just glad he was still alive. Clinging to him like this helped you to solidify that he was okay.

"What are you talking about?" Normally he would’ve immediately condemned your use of profanity, but your clearly shaken-up state had him picking his words a bit more carefully. You were already crying, he didn't need you sobbing because he'd scolded you.

"You bailed on me this morning, you didn't come to the meeting, you weren't in your room when we went to find everyone else, and then someone upstairs screamed that someone had been hurt-"

"Tch," his scoff cut you off your rambling, "You really thought I would be dumb enough to let any of those idiots hurt me? Don't be so stupid."

He kept up his air of superiority and arrogance, but his body language betrayed him. Instead of pushing you off of him, he sighed reluctantly against your hair before returning the tight embrace. It was tight enough that you almost couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. You were in his arms again. You hadn't lost him. Suffocating from his embrace was so much better than choking from an anxiety attack.

Feeling you relax into his chest after a moment, he waited for your shaking to fully subside before he spoke again. “Compose yourself before Toko makes her inevitable return. From what you said, there’s enough of a scene right now as it is. I don’t have the time to deal with the fit she’d throw if she found you hanging off of me.”

You nodded meekly and wiped at your face with your sleeve. He stopped you though, gently grabbing your wrist with one hand before using the other to dry your tears with a tissue from his pocket. "Don't do that, you'll just get your sleeve covered in your own tears and snot. That's disgusting."

The heat on your cheeks only intensified under his close gaze. His eyes met yours as he studied your expression, though he only held your gaze for a moment before turning away with an entirely superficial eye roll. “Look at you, making me wipe your tears like some kind of lovesick idiot.”

This was your turn to give him an almost entirely superficial eye roll of your own. “It’s only fair, you’re the one who made me cry.”

He scoffed in return, but his sly smile didn’t hold the same condescending scorn it did when he used it against others. This one held genuine amusement and, dare you say, affinity?

Tossing the now folded up tissue in the dusty library trash can, he placed his hand at the small of your back, coaxing you towards the door. “Come on, apparently we have an investigation to attend to.”

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