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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

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Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days?

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic.

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in.

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down.

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress.

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter-

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand.

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭 pào fàn (poached rice).’

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’

‘I was born ready.’

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers.

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly.

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos.

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind.

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise.

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle.

‘Again! Again!’

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’ As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes.

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl.

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’

‘Are you her boyfriend?’

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth.

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him.

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully.

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day.

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far!

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show!

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi #shang chi #shang chi x reader

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usedtobe-angstyoikawa · 4 years ago

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Mask

Zuko x reader (tea shop au)

Summary: you become friends with the two baristas from your favorite tea shop and slowly start to fall for one of them (keep in mind this takes place in the modern day, covid is still around sorry :p)

A/n: I came up with this love story kind of idea while in quarantine since where I’m from things are still pretty messy (not just because of covid but the whole country is a mess lol) so it’s hard for me to imagine love scenarios that are so different from the reality I’m currently living in. That being said, this seemed to be good enough to make my brain enjoy it while also tricking it into believing maybe it could happen to me one day (even though I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die alone :’) Anyways I was thinking of making these a series? Don’t know maybe I won’t finish it I’m too busy but I’ll give it a try

Warnings: none at lest yet

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Being alive during a pandemic isn’t easy, not to mention how stressing it is to be a college student as well. The combination of trying to take care of yourself while also loosing your mind and dealing with anxiety isn’t the best. The student life is already tiring on its own, but the social interaction and good fun memories that come with it makes it a little less dreadful. Of course, that is gone now too, so we’re left with only the overworking-yourself-till-your-body-gives-out part of the experience. It may sound depressing but after a bit more than a year you learn to live with it, you adapt and find new ways to relax and have fun.

That’s why you’ve been visiting the new tea shop near your house. It opened a few months ago and since you first stepped foot in the warm, inviting place you haven’t been able to go a day without their so contagious good vibes (and tea too, obviously). Well maybe you don’t visit it every single day but at least three times a week, on mondays, wednesdays and fridays to be exact. It’s become part of your routine, not only is it good because it implies spending time outside of your room but the friendly, cozy atmosphere of that place also helps you concentrate on your studies and actually get the work done. And yeah maybe having to wear a mask the whole time isn’t super comfortable but it’s worth it, at least the shops were opened again. One of your favorite things about the tea shop is the staff, from the baristas to the waiters to the owner, this last one being the first one you met. This man is incredibly sweet and is capable of lifting your mood with such simple words and a warm cup of tea. Iroh, that being his name, moved to your hometown a year before the pandemic started with no intentions of working at any shop, let alone open one. It was the arrival of his two nephews in need of a helping hand that made him come up with the best idea of his life, and the best thing that happened to you later on. You don’t really know what his relatives coming to town has to do with him opening a tea shop but he never explained, so you never asked. He is very fond of his nephews, specially the older one, a boy named Zuko. The other is a girl named Azula, which you learned is the youngest sibling even though she seems a lot more mature than her brother. Both of them work with his uncle, Zuko as a barista and Azula as the cashier, but sometimes she likes to take and prepare your orders too, just to prove she’s better at tea-making than her brother. Every time she does so you play along with it, nodding to everything she says only to then confess to Zuko that you find his tea to be better warmed than her sister’s. You’d like to say that comments like that one make him blush, but there’s no way of telling with the damned mask covering his face. This place has very strict covid prevention policies, which you are glad of cause not many shops did, so you’ve never seen their faces (or at least not the entirety of them). It’s kind of weird cause you’re pretty sure they do know what you look like since you have to take yours off every time you take a sip of your drink or a bite of your food. You only once saw Azula with her mask off, hanging from her right ear. She was outside standing next to the entrance while smoking a cigarette, she had the prettiest face you’d ever seen. But you don’t know what the faces of her brother and uncle look like, though you try to imagine it from time to time. You’re pretty sure Iroh has a beard, you can see it poking out of the sides of his mask, but what really intrigues you is his smile. He’s one of those people who are able to smile with just their eyes, so you imagine his smile is the phisical representation of happiness itself. Now Zuko’s face was harder to imagine. He wore his dark hair right in front of his eyes, kind of like grown out bangs that covered the upper part of his face. You know his eyes are of this yellowish but also hazel like color, and you’re 99% sure he has dark bags under them. But apart from that you aren’t sure what to think of his facial features, you don’t know if he has a beard or a sharp jawline, nor if his nose is pointed like his sister’s or a bit round like his uncle’s. He could have no nose at all for all you know! This types of thoughts are the ones that roam your mind while you’re trying to solve the algebra problem sitting on the book page in front of you. Maybe it’s time for your you to take a break and order another tea, you think of trying out the new matcha one Iroh added to the list last week but instead you opt for the good old jasmine tea, the old man’s favorite.

You’re surprised when you see Zuko starting on your order instead of his uncle, even though he works as a barista too he usually takes care of the food orders. It’s not that he’s bad at making tea (like his sister states), he’s only extremely good at making a few variety of them and messes up any other order completely. Bobba, black and green tee are his specialties, with oolong and herbal coming right behind them, but jasmine is one of his worst. And you’re gonna have to be the one drinking a whole cup of it. You look to your left and catch Azula’s eyes fixed on his brothers back, then they move to you and even though words aren’t coming out of her mouth you know exactly what she wants to say. Shit, good luck.

“Here you go, a jasmine tea with three sugar’s” his voice breaks your staring contest with the girl next to him and it takes you a good minute and a half to react and take the cup. You really wish you had taken a seat next to the window instead of opting for the counter, now you’ll have to try the drink while he’s standing in front of you.

You can feel Azula’s eyes burning the side of your face, you know she’s either at the verge of tears or feeling sorry for you. Before chickening out you lift the cup and bring it to your lips, letting the liquid in and swallowing. Everyone behind the counter stops, waiting for your reaction. They don’t really know what they’re expecting you to do or say, but it definitely isn’t what is currently going on in your head (and mouth).

“Oh. My. Fucking god. This is amazing.”

a/n: this wasn’t proof read so thank you for making it this far :)

#atla fanart #atla #zuko x oc #zuko x you #atla azula #atla zuko #zuko #azula #zuko and azula #uncle iroh #tea #tea shop #modern au #tea shop Zuko #zuko x reader #modern day atla #fluff

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twstheadcanons · 4 years ago

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Any hcs for pomefiore, like how its students interact socially. Or hcs on the etiquette lessons?

this is long

· I stand by what I said about Savanaclaw – Night Raven College has a bunch of stupid high school boys in its student body. Being in Pomefiore does not erase your dumb high school energy. It is just redirected. As the oldest dorm, Pomefiore has some antiquated decour, and its own pride in maintaining them, including its gratuitous amount of candles strewn about. Are the candlelit flames real? Yes. Can students touch them and light them themselves? Absolutely not. They’re enchanted to light up and extinguish on their own. Vil’s seen firsthand how hotheaded and confrontational Pomefiore students can be. He finds enchanted candles reasonable.

· There’s a garden in the back of the dorm building. As the dorm known for its prowess in poisons and potions, it’s important for Pomefiore students to be able to identify specific types of flora commonly used in formulas, alongside their potential benefits and dangers.

· Gardening can be grueling, especially when dealing with tricky, difficult flora. Vil has extensive instructions under his belt when it comes to making sure all students do their part (there is no avoiding gardening duty). As such, alongside gardening itself, he’s put a lot of time and effort researching and specialising methods to minimise/mitigate the amount of mess and physical involved – and that’s without cutting corners. Every new year brings in new students with their own personal strengths, so he has to make sure no stone goes unturned.

· That said, absolutely no one shares gardening gloves. Crowley is crying at the expenses of just damn gardening gloves but Vil is Not going to budge.

· Of course, the apple trees are ones Pomefiore plants as well. It’s their signature after all. Rook hawk eyes both the trees’ growth and makes sure no one’s snagging them beforehand. Ever since Epel enrolled, he’s lowkey more instructive of the process whenever Vil’s not around. He’s also got his own shortcuts and tricks for general gardening. Having a more hands-on approach since birth, it comes naturally to him.

· Like, no offence, but the Pomefiore apples are not as good as the ones the Felmiers grow.

· Epel is constantly on the verge of going apeshit when something he KNOWS he’s good at and knows his shit about is getting nitpicked, so for Vil’s safety I am making the executive decision that Vil’s noticed Epel sometimes taking charge in helping other students and just lets Epel do his own thing when it comes to helping out with Pomefiore’s plants and apples.

· Honestly, having the two different approaches work in Pomefiore’s favour. Some students need/want more structure and guidance, making Vil a better option. Others benefit from Epel’s self-assured, informal approach since it makes it seem less daunting for beginners.

· Rook likes to indulge himself when it comes to apples. By that I mean he likes to ‘help’ students ‘slice’ their apples by doing the classic arrow-through-the-apple thing. A lot of students think it’s actually pretty awesome.

· Right up until Rook asks for a volunteer to have the apple on their head.

· The science club actually has its fair share of Pomefiore students apart from Rook. Some are simply following the example of a generally respected vice-leader, whilst other took it for their own interests.

· The same goes for film appreciation. While small and mostly Pomefiore students under Vil’s lead, it’s a close circle of students working together.

· The ballroom, like gardening, requires its own care and maintenance. Keeping floors, windows, and mirrors clean. This actually goes for the entire dorm, but the ballroom hosts a lot of Pomefiore’s recreational and group events (makes for a good place for film appreciation rehearsals).

· Another reason it’s important to keep the dorm itself clean overall: absolutely no one wants perfume and cologne just lingering in furniture. That is not the life anyone wants. Ever.

· This is something Rook’s especially quick to get on others’ cases about (in his own Rook Hunt way that is). He’s a hunter, so he doesn’t want to risk even the most wonderful of scents blowing his cover.

· Speaking of Rook, if you’re familiar with French in Pomefiore, but don’t use it often. You Do Now for the sake of your fellow dormmates that want to know what the hell Rook is saying.

· Students in Pomefiore tend to grow up into more hands-on careers. Of course, there’s the ones in professions like show business, fashion, and cosmetology, but other common careers they gravitate to are generally science or fine arts related.

· If you know what’s good for you, and you’re interested in fashion, start learning about the ethical issues and dangers of fast fashion ASAP. As someone surrounded by aesthetics and designs, Vil knows his shit and idealistic views that overlook the shady business practises of even big-name groups get under his skin fast. In general, as passionate as he is in his line of work, Vil’s still disillusioned to the glitz and glamour of it, which is why he takes such an aggressive stance on his own management.

· Since first years share four students in one dorm room, Epel’s roommates will never escape the apple smell. It’s gone from charming, to a bit sickening, to being plain desentisised to the scent. While all three are kind of over having an apple or apple juice every time Epel’s family sends them, they’ll happily accept them from time to time. The apple juice especially is popular since it makes for a refreshing change from water.

· Makeup brand debates. They’re a thing. Vil mostly thinks they’re dumb on a surface level since people just gravitate to what works for them and is within their budget but if you ask he’s got dirt on which brands have the worst practises that don’t need Anyone’s money.

· Considering his ‘villain’ typecasting the guy has no fear using his platform to be outspoken on those types of issues which is why a lot of Pomefiore students end up actually respecting him outside his acting and modeling career.

· For the record, it’s not like Epel’s the only student from a rural background in Pomefiore. There are plenty of others, it’s just that they didn’t literally get into a fight with a dorm leader during the opening ceremony.

· The way he acts with Epel early on, however, does leave a rather unflattering impression on said rural students. Epel doesn’t really keep his background a secret, so it’s easy to hear Vil scold Epel’s informal, direct way of speaking as him disliking the actual accents a country person may have. So like. Vil’s gotta work on clearing that up with them, lol.

· This is a “Vil’s done a good number of things wrong” zone regardless of his background and actual intent and also a “Pomefiore isn’t only about beauty but considering the way its students act and speak in general Uhhhhh” so as focused as Vil is on image and Pomefiore on seeming ‘proper’ I am Forcing him to reevaluate his approach to educating less experienced students on westernised and Eurocentric etiquette expectations. You’re going to have students with staunchly different mannerisms and ideas of etiquette that do not affect their work ethic whatsoever sweetie.

· In a similar vein, older Pomefiore students that happen to be beastfolk (I’d like to imagine the Mirror of Darkness doesn’t magically toss Savanaclaw into some unholy ‘this is the beastfolk ghetto’ hell. Do not burst my bubble I won’t listen) usually end up being tightknit with first years. Honestly how else are first-years going to survive Rook Hunt being their vice-leader.

Vil also takes his own measures to minimise how up in their business Rook gets with Pomefiore’s own beastfolk.

Being a detail-oriented dorm, Pomefiore has the most amount of students experienced in hands-on work and crafts. If the individual students get along, Savanaclaw and Pomefiore students can get a lot done when they put their minds to it.

“Absolutely Beautiful” blasting from the ballroom at 5am so the less morning-inclined can wake up properly for the next three weeks.

· Look Vil and Rook have particularly polarising personalities you cannot expect the entire dorm to worship them nor their way of doing things.

· Master Chef, although a small elective, also has its fair share of Pomefiore students. Something about a practical skills class appeals to them, and it actually makes for relaxing classwork.

· First dorm that sorts out people’s allergies. If you think it’s excessive Pomefiore has forms prepared for new students to fill out regarding any extenuating circumstances and conditions think again. No health accidents happening in this dorm.

· Mentions of students struggling tend to result in other students helping each other out. Study groups are pretty encouraged within the dorm if it works out for the people involved. The lounge aside, the ballroom’s surprisingly popular for study groups when it’s not in-use for anything else.

#pomefiore #twisted wonderland #Anonymous

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aknosde · 4 years ago

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Fátima I’ll have you know that I wasn’t actually going to drop all of this but then you told me to and I can’t fucking resist you. This is really long I’m sorry. Percy Jackson tiktok au:

This au is like 99% fluff. The only thing that keeps it from being 100% is that I’m maintaining Percy’s history of child abuse, Annabeth's tenuous relationship with her parents, Leo’s mom’s death, The death of Carter and Sadie’s parents, as well as Hazel’s issues (minus the dying), but these things don’t actually come into play.

As you can deduce above, the characters are Percy, Carter, Sadie, Hazel, Annabeth, and Leo. For the sake of my sanity, they are all sophomores in high school.

Character Histories

Percy and Hazel met when he was five and she was four. Hazel’s mom brought her into Sweet on America while Percy was hanging around Sally. They quickly became inseparable, had playdates most weekends until they could control their own schedules, and at around 8/9 years old they started referring to each other as siblings.

Percy: *standing, having a serious conversation with another child at the park*

Hazel: *climbing him*

Percy: WHy are you doing this? The jungle gym is right over there?

Hazel: *continues to climb him*

Percy: You’re a gremlin *pats her affectionately*

Annabeth and Leo met when they started middle school. Annabeth’s relationship with her father and stepmother has reached a nice area, not perfect, but good, and she doesn’t really talk with her birth mother. Leo’s mom died when he was in fourth grade, he’s fostered by a middle class family, and goes to private school with Annabeth on an academic scholarship.

Leo: –so the problem is that this formula doesn’t work with the diameter of a cylinder but I need...

Annabeth: speak english please

*fifteen minutes later* Annabeth: I think I’ll put vertical supports her, although triangular would be more stable, but according to the building codes...

Leo: I beg of you,,,

Cater and Sadie’s history stays much the same, they were raised separately until Julius died, except he died during a cave in on one of his digs, and Ruby died in a construction accident. (She was walking by when the supports failed) They started living with Amos in eighth grade. Yes, Amos still has a baboon, an alligator, and an indoor basketball court.

Carter: And so that’s why Amos named his baboon Kufu.

Sadie: You are literally the most annoying person alive, can I have your fries?

Carter and Percy met on the subway when they were ten, going to a day camp in the summer while Julius was giving some lectures in the city. They were inseparable for the week, and then didn’t speak to each other for four years.

Hazel’s mom has a few mental illnesses that developed when Hazel was around 10, she’s still present in Hazel’s life, and they live together, but she’s not always all there. Once Gabe is out of the picture Hazel spends a lot of time at the Jacksons’ apartment, enough where she keeps a toothbrush there.

As for Gabe, he remains his normal abusive self. Things come to a climax when Percy is 11/12 after Gabe throws a bottle at him. There’s no reasonable excuse for this, and Sally comes home while Percy’s still crying. Gabe’s dealt with swiftly, but Percy has some scarring on the left side of his face.

Also quick note: in this au Percy is 1/2 black, 1/4 moreno, and 1/4 native american. (Moreno and native from Sally and black from his dad)

Their Accounts

So as in the post that got this all started, Percy’s account is largely Ancient Greek and Roman mythology and history. He also does some stuff for indigenous mythology, but he’s super into the greek and roman stuff. (Insert this meme (it’s the thirteenth one down)) He also does skateboarding and some light gymnastics/parkour/acrobatics.

Hazel is a gymnast. She’s also just super nice and supportive so she makes those motivational videos, but mostly it’s gym stuff and her and Percy hanging out. She’s not quite as popular but she doesn’t really care. She is also the #1 horse girl, and rates horses. Percy would tease her, but he’s also a horse girl.

Sadie does comedy. Some if it’s scripted or little skits, but there’s a lot of her just ranting at her camera. Also her life is just weird (*cough* alligator and baboon *cough*) so people just like to see what she’s doing. Also a theatre kid™, sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Carter gives detailed accounts of every Egyptian myth he thinks is cool (all of them), but he makes more comedic abridged versions too. He’s also known to make videos laying out archeological digs. About a quarter of his videos feature Sadie insulting him in the background.

Leoooooo! He has a lot of comedy, the first video of his to do well was a situational comedy, he always has a sarcastic comment or a bad joke. Most of his stuff now is for robotics. He’s on the robotics team at his and Annabeth’s school, but he does a lot of stuff on the side just making crazy cool contraptions. He has a series of him going scrounging for parts because he doesn’t exactly have the money for a lot of his stuff. Also skateboards occasionally.

Annabeth’s account in verging on booktok. Every time she reads a book she reviews it, and if it’s popular she’ll record herself reading it and put the best clips together. She’s still really into architecture, she talks about it often, shows some of her sketches, and has a series where her followers can pick videos in New York and she’ll go and critique them. Also has some lifestyle videos about staying organized, but only for school stuff because otherwise she’s pretty messy.

Prequel Stuff

Carter and Percy reconnect when they start duetting each other’s mythology busting videos. They have two series together, one on parallels between Greek and Egyptian myths (called Percy and Carter’s Mythological Mashup) and another about hellenistic culture, specifically about Egypt during the Ptolemaic Dynasty. (Working title: Colonizers suck,,, but the Aesthetics)

Them getting closer forms a friend group of Percy, Hazel, Sadie, and Carter, and they hang out most weekends. Their parents are all friends now.

Okay, The Actual Thing

I lied, there’s a prologue: everything starts at the very end of freshman year when Percy posts a video of him, Hazel, Carter, and Sadie at central park. (caption yet to be determined). It ends up on Leo’s fyp and his though process goes something like ‘oh, it’s a bunch of pretty people who aren’t white.’ He follows Percy and forgets about it.

So Leo’s life is going pretty normal, Percy’s videos pop up on his following and for you pages. Nothing really happens until Percy makes a video detailing a type of ancient greek technology (im thinking torsion catapult but its not set in stone). Leo thinks it sounds really cool, so he makes it and duets Percy’s video

From there, their friendship develops. Leo keeps making models and prototypes of ancient tech for some of Percy’s videos, and eventually he starts doing his own research. And in turn, Percy duets Leos videos and talks about the historical significance of certain mechanisms or their origins. By now, they’re mutuals and talk pretty often.

Annabeth also follows Percy after one of his videos appears on her fyp, but much later then Leo. In fact, he’s on her page because she follows Leo. She’s with Leo when this happens, and asks him about Percy and checks his profile before following him. He follows her back the next day.

The first time they interact beyond liking each others videos is when Annabeth takes part in one of those ‘creators are struggling like you’ with her ADHD and dyslexia, which Percy continues from her.

One day Percy and Leo (quite literally) run into each other, and as they’re mutuals and do text, they decide they might as well hang out in person, thus Leo is indicted into Percy’s friend group.

Leo eventually brings Annabeth along too

And the rest of it would be shorter 4+ panel comics and maybe a few mini arcs. I have specific videos outlined for each of them.

#i spaced this out because i can't read big blocks of text so sorry if its annoying #this is literally my comfort au #also all of the characters are queer #i don't have any percabeth plans #its purely friendship fluff #this is basically just a master post #tiktok.pj.au #long post #riordanverse #max.txt

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sevensoulmates · 5 years ago

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If buddie did happen, how do you think bobby would react?(ie capatain bobby or more dad bobby.. dont hurt my son)

WHEW! Okay...so it’s pretty common knowledge that everyone has a “Bobby Knows” tag because he tends to always be the main character the camera either pans/cuts to to see his reaction to how Buck and Eddie interact. Do I actually believe that “Bobby knows” in the sense that he knows the two are into each other romantically? It’s debatable. I think that Bobby knows that there is SOMETHING there between the two. He’s seen something in the two of them since day 1. He knows that what they have goes beyond just work partners, and beyond being simple friends. He knows that what Eddie and Buck have is something incredibly unique to them. Does he know if it could be romantic? Unsure. He could suspect but might think that it’s unlikely given both boys stubborn and idiotic nature.

I think the strongest contender moment that Bobby might’ve been clued in on the true nature of Buck’s feelings for Eddie would’ve been in Eddie Begins. Not exactly the moment after when he, Chim and Hen are trying to convince Buck that they’re not going to give up and search for Eddie, but during the moment after Buck saves Bobby’s life and then has a full on break down in the mud and rain over Eddie being buried. I think the fact that Bobby had to physically pull Buck back, had to haul him down to the ground and comfort the man while he sobbed in his arms. I think there’s no way Bobby wasn’t reminded of himself in that moment. How he felt at the worst moments of his life when his family died. I think that was the moment it was solidified that Buck has stronger feelings for Eddie than Bobby may have realized.

Because of this, I think if Bobby were to find out that Buck and Eddie were a thing in the show, he would probably be surprised. He might’ve thought that neither of them would ever realize or admit. Or maybe even he thought the two of them would be so set in their heterosexual mindsets that they would never even consider the idea that they might be in love with each other. But I think internally he likely would’ve seen it coming. It’s impossible after that episode Buck pulled in Eddie Begins.

That’s my analysis on Bobby the adoptive father who loves those idiots like sons.

But Bobby the fire captain? Oh hO HO. I think it’s very telling the fact that Bobby DID NOT reprimand Buck for his actions when Eddie was buried. That was not only a blatant lack of professionalism on Buck’s part, but speaks to Buck’s larger issues of letting his emotions control him. It’s Buck’s huge professional “flaw”, and a lesson that Bobby and the show has been trying to teach him since day 1. Sure Buck’s actions didn’t endanger anyone, but it’s showing a lack of professionalism IN UNIFORM (which we know Bobby takes seriously) and it’s while they’re surrounded by reporters who could’ve taped everything. And it’s happening when every moment is essential to rescue Eddie and they shouldn’t be “wasting time” by Buck having an emotional breakdown and Bobby needing to comfort him. By all means, if Bobby was an objective fire captain, he could’ve gotten Buck seriously in trouble for this. Hell, he could’ve said “hey, the way you acted was extremely unprofessional out there and it makes me question your relationship with Firefighter Diaz. If whatever feelings you may harbor for Firefighter Diaz will continue to put you in an emotionally compromising position while on duty, we may have to look into switching your rotations and/or switching you to a different firehouse.”

After all, the reason Bobby didn’t recommend Buck come back to work after the pulmonary embolism is because “he’s responsible for nearly 30 other firefighters and we can’t risk their lives by having you be physically compromised on the field”. And yet, Bobby doesn’t reprimand him AT ALL for being emotionally compromised during Eddie Begins. And I think that is PURELY because he empathized with how Buck felt in that moment, and knows that when your person is on the verge of dying, you will do whatever you can to try and save them. And also because Bobby loves Buck like a son, and it probably broke his heart to see how broken Buck became at the thought of losing Eddie.

Bobby likes to play this game where he pretends he always puts his captain duties above his emotional connections to his firefighters and yet we spend the whole show showing how Bobby actually tends to let his love for his family influence decisions he makes as captain. Bobby can be extremely biased (he expects way more out of Buck and lets Buck get away with a lot less than everyone else because he loves Buck and wants him to be a better firefighter for his own sake). We already know that Bobby sees himself in Buck and that’s why he pushes him so hard to “grow out” of his reckless ways.

So how will he react to the news of Buck and Eddie being officially together? I think it would be an extreme internal battle for him. Because in one way, in his dad way, he’s happy that his sons are happy. But in another way, he has a duty as fire captain to ascertain whether them being together will pose a threat to the lives of the other firefighters he manages. Buck and Eddie who BOTH already have a reputation of easily putting themselves in dangerous situations to save people (most of the time people they don’t even know or have any personal connection with whatsoever). So imagine the lengths they would go to if something happened to one of them. Bobby has already seen how Buck reacted to possibly losing Eddie (BEFORE anything romantic developed). He knows that that feeling would only be intensified now that they’ve officially acknowledged that the love they have for each other is beyond that of friendship or work camaraderie. And they have a son between them as well which adds yet another layer of complications. Now Bobby has to make a decision, does he act like a captain and split them apart professionally (which we already know will cause a SHIT TON of conflict with Buck since he already fears losing his 118 family) or does he act like a father and place his personal trust in them over his duties as captain, and let them be together in the same shifts in the same fire house.

How will his choices effect the rest of his team, and effect his place as captain? Would allowing them to continue as they are actually put others in danger? How will Buck and Eddie learn to control their impulsive decisions on the clock? Will allowing them to remain together mean Bobby risks his own job for unprofessionalism? Or on the other hand, will splitting them up drive Buck further away from him? Will it make Buck resent Bobby even more for never having any trust in Buck? For always thinking Buck is a screw up who can’t make objective decisions? Will they risk fracturing their already fragile relationship even more after the lawsuit?

There are so many potential ramifications, and I think it would be an AMAZING plotline to explore on screen.

#buddie #bobby nash #911 fox #buck x eddie #i would like to see it #Anonymous

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angelinarecs · 4 years ago

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Updated Pacific Rim Recs

Organized by pairing (or gen) and then alphabetized by title. Summaries (which have been copied from their respective stories) and descriptions are provided. Notation at the end of the description indicates if a story is completed or a WIP.

Gen

Take Up Your Spade and Break Ground - Tendo Choi is a 911 dispatcher because it pays well and because he’s damn good at it. He doesn’t take the job with the expectation of finding a family – but sometimes the people who call end up up meaning a hell of a lot, and Tendo’s never been one to stay detached. Friendship/Family. Tendo POV, very well written and the plot is original. A great AU overall. I really loved following Tendo and his relationships to the Shatterdome people through his work at 911. One-shot.

Hermann, Newton Friendship

All the Colors of the Rainbow - The first thing Newt noticed about Hermann was that he was a neat freak. Well. Okay. Maybe not a neat freak. Maybe just an ordinarily-neat person who didn’t like kaiju guts in his work space. Sharing a lab was going to be a challenge … Drama. Am I reccing this because Newt is autistic? Yes, yes I am. Also, these drabbles do wonders at showing the day-to-day struggles of Newton and Hermann sharing a lab. One-shot.

Hush Now - Hermann is upset and Newt tries to cheer him up. It either goes horribly wrong or horribly right- he’s not sure. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann gets an unfortunate phone call from his father and Newt is there to pick up the pieces. Drabble length, but still sweet. One-shot.

Not Unwelcome - Set directly after the events of the movie. Hermann leaves the celebrations to give himself some space, away from the loud people clapping him on the back, away from the happily drunken crowd, and, maybe, a bit of space away from Newt. Naturally, the moment he disappears, Newt goes after him. Minor angst ensues. Friendship/Angst. Cute, fluffly, indulgent, everything you want out of a feel-good story. An enjoyable read. One-shot.

Tröstung - When Hermann is three years old, his mother gives him a stuffed lamb. Angst/Friendship. Following Hermann through the years in his interactions with his comfort object (an adorable sheep names Oskar). The premise and structure of the story really does a nice job at providing snapshots in Hermann’s life and development as he grows into the brilliant scientist he is. The story also provides a brief insight into Hermann and Newt’s relationship. One-shot.

Hermann/Newton

a ghost will be here in my stead - Hermann is feeling under the weather. Hurt/Comfort/Fluff. Post Uprising. Hermann falls ill after pushing himself too far to save Newton from the Precursors. Newton picks up the pieces. One-shot.

A Hand That Hold No Weapon - On their way back to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Newton helps Gottlieb adjust to the after effects of drifting together. Drama/Hurt/Comfort. A much needed story after Hermann and Newton drift. Fun story, okay writing. One-shot.

A Momentary Lapse of Reason - It’s Newton’s fault, really. That Hermann is stuck on the floor of the Kwoon, feeling more than a bit useless and broken. Fluff/Hurt/Comfort. Hermann pushes himself too hard trying to physically work out his self-loathing. Newton is there to pick up the pieces. One-shot.

A Not so Simple Cold - Herman is sick. Really sick. He, however, is choosing to ignore how sick he is which Newton does not agree with. Fighting ensues but some realizations about their feelings for one another also come to a head. Fluff. One of those sickfics that’s not particularly original nor well written, but definitely scratched the hurt/comfort itch when needed. One-shot.

A Warm and Gentle Tug - Hermann has a fear of having his blood drawn due to the fact that he always passes out or gets sick while it happens. This time around however, Hermann takes Newt along with him to his appointment to help ease him. Hurt/Comfort. Not the best writing here, but the relationship is fun. Mainly reccing because I have the exact same problem getting my blood drawn. One-shot.

Battered and Bruised - When Hermann comes to Newt’s defense, it doesn’t end well. Hurt/Comfort. Short and somewhat sweet. Newton and Hermann try to fix each other up after getting into a fight at a bar. One-shot.

Blue All Over - The worst one was recorded on a cold dreary day in the autumn of 2021. Hurt/Comfort. One of their many, and possible one of their worst, lab accidents. Herman is a self sacrificing idiot and Newton is at least fast on his feet. One-shot.

Collision - A kiss gone wrong. Romance/Humor. Hermann and Newton being dorky and clumsy. Cute, but short, story. One-shot.

Dehydration Sensation - Hermann doesn’t handle heat well. Hurt/Comfort. Hermann doesn’t take care of himself in the middle of a heat wave and Newt once again has to pick up the pieces. Including obstinate, delirious, and dissaproving Hermann alongside exasperated Newton! One-shot.

Homeostasis - The K-science laboratory stands on its own plane of existence; life within its concrete walls runs in parallel to life in the bigger world of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Yet even here the laws of physics apply. Whenever Hermann’s body isn’t failing him, Newton’s mind is on the verge of breaking. Hurt/Comfort. The scientists have a rough day in the lab. I really enjoyed the contrast of the mental and physical given that each Hermann and Newt suffer from their own handicaps. Seeing the ailments as both a foil and a complement to each other was a very compelling look into their relationship. One-shot.

Incessant - Hermann’s physical limitations frustrate him to tears. Angst. Newton tries to help Hermann after a fall, Hermann is frustrated that his body won’t cooperate with anything. Poor Newt has to make this situation at least bearable for both of them. The selling points for this story is mostly domestic science boyfriends and an accurate depiction of the frustrations that come with being disabled/handicapped. One-shot.

Keep Your Mouth Shut, Keep Your Guard Up - Hercules Hansen does not understand why Hermann won’t just tell him why he got in a fight with the new J-Tech. It’s obvious who came out worse for wear. Hurt/Comfort/Romance. Hermann just wants to protect Newton, they just keep getting into trouble. So wonderfully in character. I love these two. One-shot.

Laundry Day - “I must have almost popped the question a hundred times, but the timing never seemed…right, you know?” “And you decided nearly killing me in the middle of laundromat was the Platonic ideal of romance, did you?” Aka the one where Hermann launders Newt’s jacket and finds rather more than he bargained for. Hermann/Newt. Romance/Humor. This story is just so cute. I love how the everyday interaction between Newt and Hermann turns into such a touching/adorable moment. One-shot.

Oh, They’re Gonna Have to Fight Me - The Drift makes them realize they belong together. Now that they cancelled the apocalypse, there’s nothing left for them to do but live out their lives in happiness. That is, until Hermann realizes there’s more to the nightmares that Newt keeps having. (In which they don’t spend those ten years apart, and Hermann is there to figure it out and save Newt when the Precursors start taking over him.) Fluff/Angst. They win the war, get married, and live happily ever after until they don’t. If you were anything like me, the sequel really disappointed on the whole “haven’t seen you in ten years” bit. This is the fix-it that we needed for our science husbands as Hermann has to navigate his relationship with Newt while realizing exactly how compromised his husband truly is. Complete.

Pride - Newmann oneshot. Newt takes Hermann on a date to his first LGBT parade- fluff through and through, except for a little reference to acephobia. Romance/Friendship. Am I reccing this entirely because Hermann is asexual? Yes, yes I am. Also features cute relationships, Newton coming up with a bunch of “queer” orientated pet names for Hermann, and some good points about sexuality. One-shot.

Somewhere, Something - Newt and Hermann start dating in the rush of change the end of war brings. Each of them is frightened that the other doesn’t realize what he’s in for. Hurt/Comfort/Angst. The science boyfriends help each other out as they grow closer in their relationship. I really appreciate the take on both mental and physical health issues. Two-shot, complete.

strange perceptions - The most essential question to pose, obviously, is why is Hermann presently finding himself contained in a shut-down emergency decontamination unit with only his lab partner as company, having forgone not only the process of actual decontamination but also the process of being noticed by anyone at all. The answer is frustratingly straightforward: because Newton. Angst/Hurt/Comfort. In which feelings are shared and realizations come to. I really love the dialogue, character introspection, and use of flashbacks in this story. I also love the fact that it literally took getting stuck together and completely helpless to force them into a conversation about feelings. One-shot.

Strong Enough - the Precursor in captivity, nobody knows exactly how to get Newt back to his old self, if that’s even possible. But Newt was always stubborn, and damn if Hermann would ever give up on him, or, worse yet, let him give up on himself. Emotional Hurt/Comfort/Angst. Hermann is going to get his husband back, even if he has to fight the entire Shatterdome, the alien possessing his love, and his own nightmares to do it. Another precursor!Newt fix-it, but we need all of those that we can get because I want my science husbands to end up happy. One-shot.

Taken Care Of - Newt helps out Hermann when he’s having a bad day. Hurt/Comfort. A short and fluffy slice of life story that follows the companionship of Newt and Hermann through a rough day. One-shot.

The Ghost and Dr. Priestly - Newt is pulling an all-nighter in the university library studying for a chemistry test, when he begins to hear strange sounds. Good news: it’s not a ghost. Bad news: he only finds out after giving his lab partner, Hermann, a mild concussion. Drama/Romance/Hurt/Comfort. Newt is an unbelievable idiot and poor Hermann suffers the consequences. Or, Hermann is concussed and is probably not thinking properly, but he still kisses Newt even after the daft man nearly brained him with a book. One-shot.

Tricks and Treats - Seven fics for the seven days of Gottbleed week (Oct. 5th-11 2015). Each story: 1. Is Gottbleed 2. Fulfills an OTP prompt from tumblr 3. Is newmann and 4. Is Halloween related. Trick or treating, costumes, haunted houses, ghosts, too much candy - and much more! Cute, funny, with a side of seriousness. Humor/Drama. Hermann and Newton make such a fun couple and these somewhat Halloween themed shorts perfectly show off their characters. Complete.

You and Your Dog Teeth - Desperate to find ends and solutions, Hermann wears himself out to exhaustion looking for answers, especially his already lame leg. Being around as his usual working late night companion, it’s up to Newt to help take Dr. Gottlieb home. What seemed entirely like a normal night only ends with two scientists realizing there’s a lot more between them than they thought. Angst/Humor. Such a fun story, this has a good balance between emotional tension and moments of hilarity that only the K-science boys can fully pull off. The awkward approach to romance in this story works very well for the characters and give an authentic feel to the whole thing. Two-shot, complete.

You Know I Love You: I Wrote It Down - Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb’s relationship goes back almost ten years. We know this because the paper trail goes that far back, too. Romance. Where do I begin with this story? It’s so well done and amazingly written. I can’t get enough of it. The idea to follow the relationship of Hermann and Newton through their paper trail was brilliant and well executed. The sheer nerdy romance is amazing. I don’t even care if it has smut in it, it’s still well worth the read. One-shot.

#Pacific Rim #pacific rim fanfiction #hermann/newton #hermann gottlieb #Newton Geiszler #romance #hurt/comfort #angst #so much fluff #science husbands

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lallemanting · 5 years ago

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for want of gold

When your soulmate touches you, it leaves behind an imprint, color staining your skin. Red for romantic soulmates. Blue for platonic. That’s the universe Lucas knows, the one he’s supposed to take part in. He wishes he didn’t have to.

Or an enemies to friends to lovers/soulmate au where Lucas is jaded, Eliott is hopeful, and it should be simple, but, of course, it isn’t.

chapter 3

“But you’ll make dust from gold.”

– From Gold (Novo Amor)

Lucas taps his finger against the side of his mug in a restless pattern – one, two, three, one, two, three. There’s something swirling deep in his chest, making it a little harder to breathe, pangs that come to life every time he looks at his phone.

Because sitting there waiting for him are texts unanswered. One, specifically, from Imane that has had Lucas feigning sleep in favor of responding.

Imane (09:23) What did you do?

Lucas huffs as stares down at the message again, flinching as he recalls the night before: Eliott’s hurt eyes and the ragged edge to his voice, its sharp tone a hidden plea to be left alone without having to say the words.

Lucas groans, shifting on his chair where he’s sitting at the table nursing his coffee. Yann glances over his shoulder at the noise from where he’s standing at the stove making them eggs.

“You okay bro?” Yann asks.

Lucas runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just something with Imane.”

Yann lifts an eyebrow and turns back to the pan. He’s quiet for a moment, testing, but Lucas can tell there’s more he wants to say. “Are you sure something with Imane isn’t code for something with Eliott?”

Lucas rolls his eyes to hide the thread of panic creeping in at Yann reading him so clearly. “We’ll see,” he says, typing out a response on his phone.

Lucas (12:07) what do you mean?

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Imane (12:08) With Eliott. He told me he doesn’t think he can help anymore. Says he doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

And well fuck. So maybe it had all been worse than Lucas had thought. Maybe he’d taken it too far. He’d tried to push it down all night, tried to ignore it as Imane had taken the game from him, looking him over and asking him, Where’s Eliott?

He had to leave, Lucas had responded, but Imane had kept looking at him like she knew he was holding back the full story, like she knew he’d done something to mess it up. And here was her confirmation.

Lucas leans back in his chair, resting his phone screen-down on the table as he breathes in deep, trying to settle whatever is churning in his stomach, flipping over like he’s been out at sea. The panic digs in deeper because he knows when Imane finds out, she’ll be angry with him (and Lucas has never been good with people being angry with him).

He hates that his friends are going to be angry with him. He hates the way anticipating their anger makes him feel. And he hates that no matter how much he wants to hate Eliott right now for telling Imane, he can’t. He hates that this time, he knows this is his fault, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I may have messed up,” Lucas says to Yann’s back, cringing as Yann takes the pan off the heat, putting the eggs on plates for the two of them.

“How so?” Yann asks, bringing the food over to the table and sitting down across from Lucas.

Lucas looks down at his food, pushing the eggs around the plate with his fork. “I lost my temper with Eliott and now he doesn’t want to help Imane anymore.” He looks up to find Yann looking back at him.

“And it’s your fault?”

Lucas nods a little hesitantly and then tells Yann what exactly had gone on the night before, letting the words bleed out of him in the way they’re always aching to. When he finishes, Yann nods and takes a big bite of his eggs, chewing slowly. “Well you know what you have to do, right?”

Lucas shakes his head, but he does know, he just wants to hear Yann say it.

“You have to apologize.”

And Lucas knows, he really does, it’s just that he’s never been particularly good at apologies and he hates that he now owes Eliott Demaury one. But he also knows it’s necessary if he wants Imane to not be angry with him. And it’s necessary if Lucas doesn’t want to carry around this weight.

It had surprised Lucas how quickly the guilt had already settled into the familiar space in his chest, making it harder to breathe, a throbbing ache that doesn’t often go away. He hates that this feeling is so familiar – that guilt, like fear, has become so much a part of his daily routine that he hardly notices when it comes back again. Perhaps it’s because it rarely leaves.

And though the feeling is familiar, this time the culprit isn’t. Which leaves this pressure tinged slightly with something foreign, something new, because it had been so easy to hate Eliott Demaury from afar, to constantly dwell on the way he strode through life with ease – a golden boy in his own right who could never seem to do wrong. And Lucas had become convinced he couldn’t possibly be actually nice too. It all had to be a part of the elaborate facade he’d created.

And yet, Eliott’s words come back to Lucas again, replaying in his mind as they had on the verge of sleep the night before. No one deserves to feel bad for the choices they make for themselves. It was an out of character moment for the Eliott Lucas had constructed in his head. It had set something off in Lucas, like a swift punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him, because yes, that’s what Lucas has been trying to say.

But there’s still something in Eliott that Lucas can’t trust. It’s just the way Eliott looks at him, the way he speaks to him with something akin to pity or judgement that tends to set Lucas off. He knows he’s never been good at people treating him differently. He’s always wished he could be perfectly normal – so normal, in fact, that he could disappear into the background without people noticing. It’d be nice, sometimes, to blend in, to not have to deal with the looks and the whispers.

It’s probably why he’d reacted so fiercely to Eliott’s help. He’d always had trouble accepting help, always hated the way it made him feel singled out and incapable, a testament to all the ways he’d failed at doing it on his own.

And it’s also that Lucas isn’t used to people trying to make things easier for him. In his experience, people tend to make things harder, figuring out how to push him, break him, take everything that made it hurt and pull it out piece by piece to be examined in the light of day.

But this time it was Lucas who’d pushed too far, who’d taken something out on Eliott that wasn’t his fault, who pulled the rift apart from where it had only been a tear and made it into something of a chasm.

And no one deserves that – not even Eliott. Lucas doesn’t have to be his friend, hell he doesn’t even have to like him, but he’d never want anyone to treat him the way he treated Eliott last night. And that’s on him, no matter what shit he has going on.

“You’re right,” Lucas sighs, looking at Yann. “I do need to apologize.”

He picks up his phone again, typing out a reply to Imane.

Lucas (12:26) I’ll fix it.

***

The problem is, Lucas isn’t quite sure how to fix it. He doesn’t have Eliott’s number, and even though it could definitely get it from Imane, it feels a little insincere.

It’s new territory for Lucas, being so fully in the wrong that it’s up to him to make it right. He’s so used to only interacting with the people who know him, or giving strangers such a wide berth there would never be any opportunity for this kind of miscommunication.

It’s a foreign virus wreaking havoc on his body, twisting his gut painfully every time he thinks about what he has to do.

Lucas hates being wrong. And he hates it’s Eliott he’s wronged.

But there’s determination brewing now, a constantly beating reminder of what he’s set out to do, if only he can find the right moment. His mind weaves stories of how he hopes he’ll face Eliott again if only to make the experience a little smoother, a little softer.

But as with most things, it never goes as planned.

When Lucas finally sees Eliott again, it’s almost four days after he’d exploded at him at the bus stop, the bitter taste of the words he’d spat almost faded.

Lucas sees Eliott from across the open expanse of grass in the middle of campus. Normally, there’d be students gathered all across it, likely blocking Lucas’ view, but autumn has descended rather quickly and with the clouds blocking out the mid-afternoon sun, campus has become too cold to spend a lot of time outdoors.

So Lucas sees him. He’s surprised really, at how quickly he notices Eliott, but the bright, wild hair and the camel jacket give him away much too easily and his guilt has been acting like a radar for Eliott anyway.

And maybe it’s that this moment, the thought of talking to Eliott about what happened has been building up in Lucas’ mind to the point it’s nearly the only thing he can think about that propels him across the grass towards Eliott before his mind can catch up and register what he’s doing.

Because suddenly Lucas is standing there behind Eliott, who is putting something in his backpack and zipping it back up again, a bundle of nerves and hesitant remorse, and he’s willing himself to speak, to find the words he’d spent so long practicing and let them out.

“Hey.” It’s louder than he meant for it to be and Eliott jumps, twisting behind him to see who is talking to him.

When he sees Lucas, Eliott ‘s face hardens and he abruptly stands, throwing his bag over one shoulder.

It’s like Eliott is just looking right through him. His eyes land on Lucas’ face but they pass right over, like there’s nothing there to see. Lucas has been ignored before, sure, but nothing like this – nothing like the blatant way Eliott is avoiding even having to acknowledge him at all.

“Eliott, wait–” Lucas calls out, reaching for the sleeve of Eliott’s jacket without even thinking about it, bare fingers brushing the rough fabric as Eliott spins slightly to look at him. “Can we talk?” Lucas pauses, searching Eliott’s face. He finds nothing there but a clenched jaw and the ghost of something in his eyes. “Please?”

Eliott huffs and for a moment Lucas thinks that maybe he’ll hear him out. Instead Eliott rolls his eyes before turning on his heel and striding out of the building, saying nothing to Lucas at all.

***

That night, as Lucas tosses restlessly from side to side, all he can see is the tension in Eliott’s shoulders and the way he’d brushed Lucas off like he couldn’t care less what he had to say. A remnant, perhaps, of Eliott’s promise the last time they spoke.

Lucas doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much.

Lucas knows he can be harsh, that’s just part of who he is, but he’s never felt so badly about it before, never carried it with this much guilt. It’s necessary – the wall. It keeps him safe and keeps people away. It’s easier, it’s always been easier.

But tonight, even when he tries to use his mother’s trick, swirling silver in his limbs, Eliott’s face won’t leave his head. He flops to his other side – again – and reaches for his phone, hoping some mindless scrolling might distract him enough to let his fatigue take over.

But the minute he picks up the phone, the minute he sees the screen, he realizes what a bad idea that actually was, because now he knows he’s not sleeping tonight. Again.

He reads the message once, twice, and then the familiar wave of anger washes over him, coupled with the tears pricking at the corners of his tired eyes, and god he could really use one day without crying.

He grabs one of his pillows, pulling it over his face as he fights the urge to scream. But in the blackness, the texts shine bright in his mind, like they were seared there by an iron brand.

Dad (00:13) Did you get my message? Please call me Lucas. We need to talk about this.

***

In the morning, with reddened eyes and a sleep-deprived brain, Lucas pulls himself from bed with a renewed sense of determination to fix the one thing he feels like he might have control over.

He stumbles out of bed to the bathroom, splashing water on his face like it might make up for the few hours he managed to sleep the night before. Slipping on a pair of jeans that he’d found crumpled in a pile at the end of his bed and grabbing his favorite black hoodie, pulling the sleeves low and pulling up the hood, Lucas gathers his things to head to campus.

Yann had left earlier that morning for his shift at the coffee shop, which meant that Lucas would swing by there first to try and imbibe some caffeine to hopefully help his brain stay connected to his mouth, and then he’d go and look for Eliott.

Enough was enough. He would apologize and make sure Eliott knew he meant it. It was for Eliott to decide if he’d accept it.

But, as with all best laid plans, the universe, who’d never really been a friend to Lucas as it was, couldn’t even let him have this. Because when Lucas enters the coffee shop, the first thing he notices is the longer-than-usual line. The second, is Eliott.

He’s sitting in the corner, the spot Lucas usually takes if he’s studying in the shop, his head bent low over his laptop as he types furiously. And just like that all the determination that Lucas had gotten out of bed with seeps out of him with surprising efficiency. Lucas turns his body away as he stands in line, hoping that Eliott won’t notice him until he’s had a chance to will back his courage.

Luckily for him, Eliott seems relatively engrossed in whatever he’s working on and doesn’t pick up his head once as Lucas moves up in line. When Lucas finally gets to the front, Yann gives him a big smile, despite the early hour and busy morning rush.

“Lucas, hey!”

“Shh,” Lucas whispers, nodding his head in Eliott’s direction. Yann looks over his shoulder, noticing Eliott and his eyes widen, but he nods.

“What can I get you?” he asks. “Wait, let me guess, black coffee?”

“Oh, Yann, you know me so well.”

It’s Yann’s turn to subtly nod, back towards the staff entrance and Lucas catches sight of a man he only knows as the manager from hell, which Lucas knows means he’ll have to pay for his coffee this morning. He shrugs and Yann smiles apologetically.

“That all?” Yann asks.

Lucas is about to say yes when he glances over at Eliott’s table again and has an idea. “Do you happen to know what Eliott’s drinking?”

Yann smirks at him but nods and then Lucas is paying for the drinks and grabbing them – the coffee for him and a tea for Eliott. Which, the more Lucas thinks about it, makes perfect sense.

Hot drinks in hand, warming his fingers even through the fabric of his hoodie, Lucas takes a deep breath and before he lets himself think about it anymore, strides over to Eliott’s table. He clears his throat when he reaches the table, standing awkwardly as Eliott jumps and looks up from his laptop, his slightly dazed expression of being engrossed in his work giving way to irritation.

But Lucas isn’t having any of that – not today. So he sets the tea in front of Eliott, next to Eliott’s other, empty, mug, and then pulls out the seat across from him, as if daring Eliott to speak. He does.

“What’s this?” Eliott’s voice is quiet, testing.

“A refill.”

Eliott rolls his eyes. “I can see that. What do you want, Lucas? I’m trying to study.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas blurts out, unable to contain it anymore. He runs his hand through his hair, heat rising in his cheeks as flustered words fight their way out. “So it’s an apology, the tea. Or no, that’d be a pretty lame apology, but, uh, it’s the start of an apology.” Lucas shakes his head and almost feels like laughing at how terribly he’s forming thoughts, stringing words together, but he pushes on.

“Uh, I’m really sorry about how I acted on Friday. I was way out of line.” Lucas pauses, taking another long steadying breath. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or said all that stuff to you. I had a bad day and it’s not an excuse, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” As he finishes speaking, he chances a glance up at Eliott, who is staring at him with wide eyes.

Eliott shakes his head, a slightly bewildered smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Uh thanks, Lucas.” He reaches out for the tea, grasping it between his hands.

Lucas grimaces, but he needs to get it out. “Also, you were right, what you said.”

“What?” Eliott looks at him with brows furrowed, his green-gray eyes searching Lucas’ face.

“About people not feeling bad about the choices they make?” Lucas’ voice sounds small. “You were right. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about wanting a soulmate. It’s cool. I don’t know why it bothered me so much.”

Eliott’s face softens and he smiles, for real this time. “Thanks for saying that.”

Lucas shrugs and releases the stranglehold he’d had on his coffee cup – one he hadn’t noticed until just then, and feels the weight already lifting off his chest, the fear vanishing slowly. (And at Eliott’s smile, something perhaps moving in to take its place.)

“And Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know I’d never judge you for not wanting a soulmate either,” Eliott says, and Lucas can see in the way he holds himself, the way he’s hunched over the table, the way he’s wrapped his fingers around his mug, that this has been something eating at him too.

Lucas smiles. “I know, Eliott.” And then – “Thank you.”

Eliott nods and lifts the mug to take a sip of his tea. “So, truce? I’d really like to be able to help Imane again.”

Lucas feels the warmth bubble up in his chest as Eliott forgives him and forgets for a moment that this is all this is – a truce, an apology owed and delivered. This is not Lucas suddenly liking Eliott.

“Yes,” he replies. “A truce.”

Eliott nods and glances at his computer, before looking back at Lucas, a glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you shake on it.” Lucas’ mouth drops open and for a moment Eliott looks like he’s afraid he’s just pushed a little too far. “Too soon?” he asks.

But then Lucas is laughing and he’s bewildered to find that for a moment, he’s smiling at Eliott and Eliott is smiling back. “No, it’s okay,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I deserved that.”

And if Eliott offers for Lucas to sit with him until he finishes his coffee, and Lucas accepts, no one needs to know.

***

It’s better from there. It turns out Eliott is a generally forgiving person, and Lucas is a lot easier to be around when he’s not stuck thinking the worst of someone.

They’re not friends exactly and there’s some distance between them that Lucas can’t quite name, but things are better. There’s no obvious tension, no pressure building up that striking a match could set aflame.

Lucas likes it better here, not having to worry about running into Eliott anymore. Now they exchange pleasant greetings, smile, and get on with their lives. It’s much easier.

But it also means, of course, that their friends start to notice. Every time Imane sees them together she meets Lucas’ eyes with a mix of confusion and relief on her face – teasing slightly, but kind.

Yann too pokes at him once or twice saying now was that so hard? but then lets it go and Lucas is grateful because he’d made such a show of hating Eliott, he doesn’t exactly want to explain himself now.

But then one day on campus Eliott passes by Lucas while he’s sitting at a table with the boys eating lunch and they smile and nod at each other in greeting and Arthur and Basile share a shocked expression between them from where they sit across from Lucas at the table.

“So you and Eliott seem to be getting along better,” Arthur says, his voice light and a little confused.

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, we sorted it out.”

Arthur and Basile share another glance as Yann chuckles next to him. “So you like him now?” Basile asks incredulously.

Lucas shakes his head. “No, of course not,” he says, but that’s not really entirely true. “Or...I don’t like him, but I don’t hate him either. He just is.”

“Whatever you say Lucas.” Arthur smirks.

Lucas rolls his eyes, but there deep in his chest is the feeling that he needs to explain himself, needs them to know where he and Eliott actually stand before they get any ideas. “I mean obviously I still don’t get why he’s all eager to find his soulmate, but I’m working on not letting it bother me. It’s his choice.”

That seems to shock the other boys into silence. But only for a moment.

“When did you decide to grow up?” Arthur asks, laughing. “Where’s the petty Lucas I know?”

“Oh fuck off.”

But from there, it just becomes a thing. Their friends stop walking on eggshells around them. They start inviting both of them to more things, stop trying to run interference on every one of their interactions. And Lucas is starting to realize just how much he was missing in the few months he spent playing sworn enemies with Eliott. The more time they spend outside of that, the stupider it all seems.

Even when they’re forced to interact now, echoes of previous words said in anger or frustration running parallel with their newfound lightness, it all tends to go well.

There’s a moment, at one of the parties Lucas has been dragged to, where he almost falls back into his old patterns. He’s standing in a corner, like usual, tucked neatly into his several layers, and he sees Eliott from across the room. He’s surrounded by several people Lucas doesn’t know, who all seem to be captivated by whatever Eliott is saying and then Eliott is reaching out and touching them in some way – his fingers brushing against some girl’s shoulders, a hand shaking another, cheeks brushing as he leans in to say hello.

Something dormant in Lucas’ chest roars to life as he watches.

But then Eliott spots him from across the room and smiles slightly before extracting himself from the group and making his way over to where Lucas stands in the corner, his hands shoved in his pockets in the all too familiar slightly timid way he tends to approach Lucas.

(Maybe it’s the unconscious way he’d braced himself for the fight Lucas always gave him. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. The only thing Lucas knows is it’s generally reserved for him.)

But then suddenly Eliott is there, leaning against the wall across from him and Lucas smiles back at him in greeting.

“Hey Lucas.”

“Hey.”

“Enjoying the party?” Eliott asks, turning as if to evaluate it himself.

Lucas shrugs, something in his stomach twisting, still his habit to brace himself for ridicule. “Too many people.”

Eliott laughs. It’s familiar – bright and loud – but Lucas has never heard it as a result of something he’s said. “Yeah, that checks out.”

“You?”

“Not enough people,” Eliott says, smirking slightly. This time Lucas laughs.

They stand there in silence for a moment, but the longer they stand there, the faster Lucas’ heart is beating, unfamiliar with being at the receiving end of attention from someone he knows only a little for so long and then he finds himself searching for a way out, something that could calm the racing in his heart, give him back his breath.

He finishes off his beer and then gestures at Eliott with the empty bottle. “I’m going to go get another,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “You want one?”

Eliott shakes his head. “No, I’m good. But thanks Lucas.”

“Okay,” Lucas replies and then he’s turning to go make his way to the kitchen, adjusting his sleeves as he goes. He makes it three steps before Eliott is calling out to him.

“And Lucas?” Eliott says, his voice slightly louder to carry above the music.

“Yeah?”

“I like your hoodie.” Eliott grins at him, smile stretched wide across his face and then he turns and disappears into the crowd.

This time Lucas doesn’t doubt that he means it.

***

It goes like this then, for the next few weeks. Lucas runs into Eliott every once in a while on campus with the boys, once or twice helping Imane gather things for her surprise, and most weekends at parties on campus. They’re civil, friendly even, in a way that Lucas could have barely imagined just a month before.

But it’s nice honestly, to put his anger and resentment towards Eliott away and instead just exist with him. Lucas has stopped fixating on him so much, and he’s sleeping better without being plagued by guilt at acting like an asshole.

He wishes, sometimes, that he was able to let go of his anger that easily all the time. But really, it hadn’t been hard because Eliott hadn’t really done anything to him. It wasn’t like Lucas particularly liked him, or would ever understand his obsession with soulmates, but there wasn’t really fuel for his antagonism towards Eliott. That fire had burned hot and bright but had burned out just as quickly once Lucas had spent a little more time with him.

But not all fires can be put out. Not all fires run out of fuel. And Lucas is still learning to live with the blaze.

It’s a Friday night, and Lucas finds himself at a party once again, though this time, it’s slightly calmer and mostly with people he knows, or at least met in class, so he’s less stressed about accidentally touching people, or people trying to touch him. He’s developed a bit of a reputation around campus, but it honestly makes everything easier, not having to explain himself all the time.

He’s just made his way into the kitchen to grab another beer when his phone dings. He digs it out of his pocket and immediately his chest constricts in only the way his father’s text can prompt.

Dad (22:53) I understand if you don’t want to talk to me… But we need to talk about your mother again.

And Lucas hates when his father pulls shit like this. When he tries to play the guilt card, like he’s unaware that Lucas lives with that shit every day. Like his father doesn’t know it’s his fault. It’s too much.

And then everything is becoming a bit too much. It’s loud in the room, and there’s too many people dancing and talking and moving about and that familiar panic, the one Lucas has been doing so well with staving off is making an appearance again and he hates that his father can make him feel like that with just one text, but he can’t help it. And then he can’t breathe.

Lucas weaves through the crowd, pulling the sleeves of his navy sweatshirt down over his hands, pulling at the ties of his hood so the fabric cinches tighter around his face, his phone like a heavy weight in his pocket.

His finds the door to the balcony and pulls it open just enough for his body to squeeze through, the air hitting him straight in the face, sobering him up just a little. He hadn’t even had that much to drink tonight. Maybe if he’d had, it’d be a little easier.

Early fall has fallen away to the sharp cold of November, frosty windows and sharp biting nights making a more regular appearance. Lucas wraps his arms around his body, trying to fight off the cold as he looks out across the rooftops of the city.

He startles when he notices someone sitting in the corner of the balcony, smoking. He panics at first but relaxes when he notices the mop of messy hair and the caramel colored jacket because he recognizes it. Eliott.

Eliott looks up then, and noticing Lucas standing there staring at him, smiles. It’s kind and gentle and much friendlier than Lucas probably deserves.

“Hey,” Lucas says, wiping at his eyes and hoping that Eliott hadn’t noticed the tears he’d almost spilled.

Eliott looks at him a moment before scooting over on the table he’s sitting on patting the wood next to him. “Join me,” he says.

And normally Lucas wouldn’t accept, would find a way to extract himself from getting that close to anyone. But there’s enough space so that he won’t touch Eliott and honestly, he really doesn’t want to be in the party right now. So he goes over and sits down.

As he settles, Eliott looks him up and down once, staying for a moment on his face. Lucas curses how he’s always failed at hiding his emotions. He knows they’re painted there for Eliott to see and so he breathes in deep, waiting for the inevitable. For Eliott to ask him if he’s okay, only for Lucas to not know how to respond, leaving him frustrated and fanning the flames of his anger.

He braces himself, but it never comes.

Instead, Eliott takes a long drag from the joint and then moves it in his fingers as he exhales, holding it delicately closer to the burning end, leaving most of it untouched.

“Want some?” Eliott asks, holding it out to Lucas. And Lucas realizes Eliott’s moved his fingers to give him the best chance of grabbing it without touching him. “Only if you want, of course.”

Lucas nods, pulling down the sleeve of his sweatshirt to expose his hand as he reaches out, taking the joint from the far end, managing to easily avoid Eliott’s skin. “Thanks.”

Lucas takes a hit and Eliott smirks with him.

“A little close for you, isn’t it?” Eliott teases, and somehow it actually feels like teasing to Lucas. “Playing with fire I see.”

Lucas shrugs, his phone still heavy in his pocket. “I’ve been burned before.”

Eliott inhales, but says nothing else and for a while they sit in silence as they pass the joint back and forth until it’s too small to be safely handed over to Lucas without him touching Eliott. Lucas leans back on his elbows then, enjoying the way his mind feels a little lighter, the stress a little less daunting.

He turns his head and looks at Eliott as he finishes the joint and takes him in as he inhales – the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the gray-green storm in his eyes, the way the moonlight shines across his face, bathing his golden skin in eerily silver light.

“Do you know why I don’t touch anyone?” Lucas asks, his words loud in the quiet night, surprising even himself. Eliott’s head whips towards him, meeting his eyes for a moment with a kind of curious disbelief before moving his gaze to the rooftops in front of them.

“No,” Eliott says quietly.

“Do you want to know?”

“If you want to tell me.”

And that is perhaps exactly what Lucas needed to hear. And maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“My mom’s soulmark faded,” Lucas begins and he can hear as Eliott breathes in sharply, knows that he understands just what that means. But he stays quiet.

“My father fell out of love with her, I guess,” Lucas continues. “I had to watch as his mark went from red to pink to nothing. It sucked. But it was worse for her. And the thing is, sometimes it happens, I get that. Sometimes you fall out of love, but with them, I never really felt like they actually wanted to be with each other. I heard my dad say once that the mark is like a prison sentence because you get it without realizing what you’re signing up for. He never would have signed up for my mom if he had a choice. And as soon as he could he left.” He pauses, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “And you know the worst part?”

“What?”

“It��s nothing my mother did. She was just who she was. And he poisoned me against her. Made me feel like I should be mad at her for not giving me a normal childhood when he could have helped, he could have made it better. It wasn’t her fault, it’s never been her fault. But it was like he was just waiting for the mark to fade, just waiting for an excuse to leave. And as soon as it happened, that’s exactly what he did.”

Eliott isn’t looking at him, but there’s tension in the way he’s sitting rigidly next to Lucas. His voice is soft when he speaks. “Is your mom okay?”

Lucas nods, his fingers picking at the wood of the table next to him. “She’s fine, she just…” he pauses. “Well, she’s schizophrenic and she needs help.”

“That must be hard,” Eliott says tightly.

“It was,” Lucas says. “It still is sometimes. But she’s my mom and when she’s doing well, she does really well and she loves me. But it’s stuck with me. I see how she’s hurting. And I’d never want someone to stay with me only because the mark told them to. I don’t ever want to hurt like she’s had to.”

Eliott just looks at him.

“But that’s not even why I’m upset now,” Lucas goes on, his words flowing quickly before he can stop himself. “I’m upset because my father moved her to another facility much farther away from me without even consulting me. He left us and acts like he still gets to make all the decisions because he used to be her soulmate! I mean, how fucked up is that? And they let him! Everyone lets him do whatever he wants and they never ask me what I want. I never get a say–”

He interrupts himself with a sob and he hadn’t even realized he’d started crying but he can’t stop them from falling. And that’s the last thing he needs right now is to cry, especially in front of Eliott. Especially after he bared his soul to him in a frighteningly embarrassing way and he’s confused how Eliott made him feel comfortable enough to let that happen.

Except – Eliott is looking at Lucas, like really looking at him, with a piercing gaze that Lucas can’t hide from, and there’s no trace of malice there, no trace of annoyance or disgust. It’s something else entirely. Something that’s been lingering at the edge of Eliott’s glances for a while now, something Lucas can’t quite place.

And suddenly Eliott is standing and pulling off his jacket but it’s Lucas who feels exposed, so exposed. And then Eliott is moving to stand in front of him, thrusting his jacket at Lucas.

“Put it on,” Eliott says, almost tense. But the words are gentle too.

“What?” Lucas just stares at Eliott’s outstretched arms, but then finds himself reaching out anyway, powerless to Eliott’s words. “I don’t understand.”

“You need a hug, but we can’t touch,” Eliott says, like it’s simple, like there’s always been this solution. “This way I won’t touch you on accident. More than one layer”

And there’s something roaring there in Lucas’ chest, something that’s been living there for longer than Lucas will probably admit but it comes to life at Eliott’s words. And then he’s imagining being wrapped in Eliott’s strong arms, just being held there while his heart races, while his tears fall, and thinks about how his arms could take some of the pain away, even for a moment.

He realizes he’s just been sitting there, staring at Eliott, open-mouthed for longer than he should have and Eliott’s confidence is starting to wane, because hey, they hated each other only a few weeks ago. But Lucas can’t find the words to say that his silence is because no one has ever done something so subtly kind for him in his entire life.

Instead, he just wordlessly stands and pulls on the jacket, adjusting the sleeves around his hands and pulling up his hood, snug against the sides of his face. Lucas watches as the tension leaves Eliott’s shoulders and the ghost of a smile plays at his lips and then Eliott is walking up to him and Lucas feels his body tense as he starts to feel Eliott’s warmth.

And then Eliott’s arms are coming around Lucas, pressing tightly against his back and Lucas finds his own arms coming up around Eliott’s neck, the sleeves of Eliott’s jacket brushing against each other. Eliott pulls him closer, his face tucked neatly into the space between Lucas’ neck and his shoulder, the fabric of Lucas’ hood preventing their skin from touching.

Eliott’s warmth is encompassing Lucas, making it a little easier to breathe. And then Lucas feels Eliott grasp him a little tighter and something in his chest releases. It’s safe and it’s comforting, being wrapped up in Eliott’s arms.

The tears fall harder now. But Eliott doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a move to leave, doesn’t flinch when Lucas’ rasping breath makes his whole body shake. He just lets Lucas cry and cry until the tears stop coming. And then he holds him for a little longer still.

They stand there, Eliott wrapped around Lucas until his mind clears enough for his thoughts to start flowing, for the panic to set in. Eliott doesn’t make a move to leave, doesn’t say a word. But he doesn’t protest either when Lucas starts to feel it’s all too much and pushes Eliott’s arms roughly away, leaving the balcony and Eliott standing there alone in silence. For once, Eliott just lets Lucas be.

And as he runs out onto the street, Lucas finds himself wishing maybe this time, he wouldn’t.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #skamfr #somehow this became 6.5k words but okay #also has one of my favorite scenes i think #hope you enjoy!!#fwog #my writing

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ethandigby · 5 years ago

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『 LANDON LIBOIRON ❙ GENDERQUEER 』 ⟿ looks like ETHAN DIGBY is here for THEIR SECOND year as a VISUAL ART GRAD student. HE is 27 years old & known to be DEDICATED, HONEST, STUBBORN & PESSIMISTIC. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ drew. twenty-two. est. he/him. ethan’s pinterest

trivia:

he really likes white cholate & hot chocolate, often eating handfuls of white chocolate baking discs regardless of the time of day.

visual art major --- tends to stray towards sculptures and installation pieces, though he does have a love for bob ross style landscape pieces. draws a lot of inspiration from older art, and many of his pieces are designed to look worn-out and as though they are missing pieces.

perpetually exhausted --- for all his love of schedules, he has never managed to consistently get enough sleep and though he loves tea, that never seems to have enough of an impact to truly wake him up ---- a.k.a he is a yawn prone little fuck

doesn’t quite believe the local legends, though he doesn’t dismiss them outright either. the statue by wishing tree has, however, made it into several of his works ---- statues seem to have her facial features without him ever meaning to and he will swear to anyone that asks that in sophomore year of his bachelor’s degree he woke up one morning to her face staring at him from amongst the trees on a painting he had been working on. he will hesitantly add that it’s possible that he had just been thinking of her while half asleep, though ethan doesn’t really believe that

currently working as a TA for some of the freshman art classes, as well as overseeing the use of the different art studios from time to time.

doesn’t believe in labels --- and that’s corny as hell, but he just wants to be able to be whoever he is in the moment and has had some harsher reactions when he uses umbrella terms, so he just refuses to label himself. relationship-wise it’s a whole different issue, he floats from one major relationship to another and often times will cycle back to one that’s already gone sour.

has recently started going to a therapist to talk about some of the issues he has processing emotions and his fear of change ---- it’s been helping but he’s still very much on the verge of flight mode and will run away from situations that demand any real sort of emotional input from him on occasion.

personality:

he is cynical, despite a desire to believe the best in people and the world - he has seen too much of the darker side of the world to ever truly believe it ---- this is reflected not only in his interactions with people ( he is open about expressing doubt and disbelief, he won’t believe a word you say, and he overanalyzes promises / invitations / declarations of love ) but also in his art and aesthetic which veers towards the dark and damned, a lot of his work is themed around broken things

stubborn as a mule ---- once he gets an idea in his mind, it can be hard to change his mind with logical arguments though an emotional appeal will have a better chance ---- he’s very set in his ways and struggles with questioning why things are the way they are, insisting that somethings should just be. loathes change and isn’t afraid to express this dislike --- tends to eat the same foods, wear the same clothes, go to the same places ---- despite a childhood dislike of routine, he finds it comforting nowadays, it feels safe.

loyal as all hell, you can hurt him a million times and he will still struggle to walk away and a genuine apology will win him back in an instant. he struggles to cut ties, even with those that he knows aren’t the best for him and has only successfully done so when it is possible for him to do so in a swift and permanent way. in most cases, he will eventually find his way back to those that he knows.

friendly but not overly so --- he has no issue approaching people if he needs something, but he’s not generally one to approach you just to “chat” b/c he’s not big on small talk in general and honestly? he’d never say it but if he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t really give a damn how your day went or how you feel about the weather or current events. if he drinks, he becomes a little more sociable in that matter, but that often drifts into “ethan is going to info-dump about whatever has his interest in the moment and the only way to stop him is to like physically place something in / on his mouth” territory which is a whole different level of awkward.

backstory:

growing up in a household where routine took priority, ethan spent a long time feel stifled by his parent’s demands that everything turned out perfectly ---- the neverending need to do things at just the right time, in just the right way. it was like fitting into a sweater that was just a tad too small, wrong in a way that is hard to explain

it’s in high school that he meets a true kindred spirit in the form of his art teacher ---- he helps ethan to realize his need for freedom and self-expression, and embraces his abilities in a way that he had always been afraid to. it’s a change that his parents are disapproving of, trying to reroute their son’s future to one of the paths that they would have approved of. but for once, he allows himself to rebel.

and after graduation, he leaves. running to new york, where he throws himself into the art scene head first without any real plans. for two years, he works multiple jobs as he cycles through sketchy roommates in his shitty apartment and equally shitty life partners, trying to discover things about himself that he hadn’t known before.

he’s still figuring some of that out, unsure of how to label his gender or his sexuality --- wishing more than anything that he could just be, a desire that he has long held onto since childhood that’s coming back to haunt them at last.

that’s not the only thing that’s caught up with them as of late, the digby’s finally managing to track him down in new york and showing up at his apartment two years after he initially ran off. they came with open minds and a burning desire to see their son do something other than work minimum wage jobs and live in run-down apartments. they were quiet and subdued in a way that they never had been.

it took six months for them to convince him to enroll in college, and he eventually chose to attend radcliffe with an undeclared major. it was far enough from his hometown that his parents couldn’t reasonably drive up too often, but close enough that he could go home if he had wanted. a three-hour drive in the best traffic.

the distance proved to be the right amount --- though his parents certainly seemed to pop up over the first three months with containers of food and worries that their child would have run off, they eventually learned to trust him. and slowly, the wounds healed ---- ethan wouldn’t say that they’re close but they’ve learned to respect each other’s boundaries.

and he’s never seen them more proud than at graduation, except maybe when he told them that he was going to apply to grad school. it wasn’t the path that they had planned for ethan, but they had learned to be enthusiastic about his success, about his dreams and about his art.

doing his master’s degree - it’s been weird. being here is weird for him in general, he still misses new york even though it was a whole different kind of existence ---- he misses the stability of going to work everyday and being completely independent. here, he has to rely on his professors and classmates, he has people that expect him to check in with them and there’s more socialization --- mostly because he’s been trying to do better with that.

connections:

good / bad influence: okay so traditionally, i think these would be separate connections but i think in this case, it’s more convoluted than that. for all of ethan running away from the environment his parents made, he’s very much stuck to those rules and expectations --- i would love for someone to start to break him out of that --- encourage him to party and drink and live life, and it doesn’t all have to be bad, it can be good too. you know, them bringing him to parties and him learning actually valuable lessons from it --- idk open to talking about their potential influence on each other, i think it could be fun

frenemies ( onesided or not ): i think a lot of ethan’s trust issues are a projection mechanism because he knows that in some ways that he can’t be trusted --- so i wld love for someone who they act like best friends when they’re together and then ethan just ... talks smack about them and doesn’t keep their secrets ( and maybe they do the same?? )

exes ( of all types / genders / whatever ): this one, my dear ethan, has gotten around a bit --- maybe they hooked up and now it’s awkward ---- maybe they dated for a while and keep circling back to each other despite knowing that they’re bad for each other ( a la unmiss you by clara mae ) ---- maybe they dated for a while and now they never talk so when they do see each other it’s just ... awkward as hell ---- open to literally anything with this one guys

art buddies: just two pals, palling around --- only prerequisite is that your character has some sort of interest in an art ( writing, theatre, music, film, etc etc ) --- and hey maybe they don’t get along but they put up a united front against the STEM majors who mock their choices in major?

other: open to discussing dormates, coworkers, current love interests and literally anything else that you can think of --- does your character need someone over 21 to buy them alcohol? call ethan. for real tho, hit me up and let’s come up with some stuff!

#radintro #i refuse to make this longer by introducing myself hi i'm drew

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carrotcouple · 5 years ago

Text

Now You’re A Habit And I’m Never Going To Break It (AO3)

Day 3 (09/10) – monochromatic | reaching out | “I’m lonely because the snow changed into rain” — slow motion, sakanaction

Odasaku’s hand curls into his hair, a painful grip, a desperate one. There’s now blood in his hair. Dazai thinks he might be hurting, he might be on the verge of crying, he might breaking. It’s so hard to breathe. It always is . And then Odasaku’s hand slips from his hair. Dazai’s breath catches in his throat and he wants to scream, he wants to grab that hand and breathe life back into it. Odasaku’s fingers catch on that godforsaken bandage and rips it free.

Color .

Reds, oranges, browns, yellows, the blue in Odasaku's eyes.

Everything is in color from his right eye.

Dazai doesn’t know who gave him color. And he doubts if the other person knew, they would ever tell him.

Everything is in color.

Odasaku is dead.

Dazai breaks.

-o-

“Yosano san,” Atsushi says as he walks into the clinic, his arms filled with bags of different medicines and colorful reports. “I brought what you were asking for.”

“Hm? Didn’t I ask Dazai?” Yosano asks, as she helps Atsushi, carefully picking things out of his arms. “Thank you, by the way.”

“He said it’s a bad day and refused to even look my way,” Atsushi says.

“Oh…” Yosano nods and Atsushi’s curiosity is now piqued. Originally he assumed that his mentor’s reluctance was laziness, but it seems different now.

“What does that mean?” Atsushi asks.

“Well...Dazai is colorblind in his left eye,” Yosano explains. “He’s already met his soulmate so he sees the full a full array of color out of his right eye. It becomes overwhelming for him sometimes to see colors and greys clash together.”

“Colorblind in his left eye? I didn’t know!” Atsushi says in surprise.

“It’s not a secret. He apparently injured himself when he was a teenager and was told he would never be able to see color out of his left eye again, even if he met his soulmate. There are treatments for this, but Dazai decided to stay that way.” Yosano picks the last bottle out of his arms.

“So Dazai san has already met his soulmate…” Atsushi says quietly. “I wonder who it is,”

“Who knows, that’s a bigger mystery than his past occupation was,” Yosano shrugs.

“Maybe I’ll ask him!” Atsushi says.

“Sure, be my guest. He does seem to dote on you,” Yosano says and then rakes her eyes over him. “Are you hurt, Atsushi kun?”

“No!” Atsushi says quickly.

“Tch,” Yosano frowns.

“Well then, I will be going!” Atsushi says and then hurries back to the main office. Dazai is there, complaining about the brightness of his laptop screen. Kunikida is snapping at him to use a pen and paper instead. Atsushi supposes that he should have realized that Dazai’s laziness often has to do with his eyes.

On the way back to the dorms, Atsushi decides to ask him.

“Dazai san, I hear that you’ve already met your soulmate. If you don’t mind me asking, who is it?” Atsushi asks. Dazai looks down at him, a wry smile on his face.

“I’ll let you know that my soulmate is a gorgeous beauty who was swept away by a political marriage and thus we are separated forever! Star crossed soulmates!” Dazai says dramatically. Atsushi stares at him.

This is a lie, Atsushi knows.

Dazai also knows that Atsushi knows it’s a lie, but makes no effort to convince Atsushi otherwise. He continues on and on about some kind of wild tale involving a foreign mafia and royal family. Atsushi links his hands behind his back and politely listens.

“Oi, mackerel,” Atsushi starts when he hears a voice he’s heard before several times. He turns to see Nakahara Chuuya, one of the Port Mafia’s executives standing outside their dorm building. “Pick up your damn phone when I call. You’re the one that ordered that fucking zebra patterned sofa and had it delivered to my place, right?” he growls.

“Hat rack!” Dazai says and Atsushi can hear the mock surprise in his voice.

“You’re coming with me,” Chuuya snaps and then picks Dazai up and hauls him over his shoulder and marches away before Atsushi can so much say a word. Atsushi doesn’t go after them though. He knows that Dazai is in constant contact with the other man.

“Oh,” Atsushi says quietly. “I forgot to ask him what color he could see before he met his soulmate,”

-o-

Dazai’s eyes are a dark brown. One can easily mistake it for being chocolate brown, but it’s not that simple. There’s a million shades of browns in his eyes and they change depending on lighting. Chuuya knows this because he’s had to stare at him in the eyes way too many times over the past eight years. Even now, he’s staring up at Dazai’s half lidded eyes that look almost green in the light coming from the kitchen. Chuuya thinks he should change the lighting around his house.

“What are you thinking of, chibi?” Dazai asks, out of breath.

Chuuya leans up to lick away a bit of saliva away from Dazai’s lips.

“Renovations,” Chuuya says and Dazai makes that weird pouty face of his and bend down to kiss Chuuya again, pressing him into the zebra patterned sofa. Chuuya swears to God he will kill Dazai if they end up having sex on this atrocious thing. It doesn’t match the rest of his house.

“To think you would be thinking about something as boring as a house when I’m right here,” Dazai says, half whining, half overly dramatic. He’s like a child, Chuuya thinks.

“You’re the one that ordered this fucking sofa that doesn’t even suit the rest of the house!” Chuuya snaps.

“That’s not important,” Dazai waves Chuuya off.

“Yes it is!” Chuuya says.

“It isn’t!” Dazai snaps. Chuuya stares at him, the browns in his eyes looking like murky green now.

“You’re moody today,” Chuuya says, arms reaching up to snake around Dazai’s neck and drag him down. “Why is that?”

“Do you see colors, Chuuya?” Dazai asks him. Chuuya watches the browns in Dazai’s eyes flicker like pools of water. They’re more chocolaty now.

“No,” Chuuya answers.

“Why?” Dazai asks him.

“That should be obvious,” Chuuya tells Dazai. “Do you see color, Dazai?”

Dazai runs a hand through his hair and his tongue slips out to lick at pink, kissed lips.

“Sometimes,” Dazai says. Then he nuzzles his face against Chuuya’s neck and draws flowers there with his lips.

“Hey,” Chuuya says, nudging Dazai off of him. “I’m not having sex on this couch. We’re heading to the bedroom.” Dazai whines again, but Chuuya pushes him off and pulls him towards his bedroom.

-o-

Chuuya thinks he might hate the color brown. It’s such a common color, it’s everywhere, it’s disgusting. It’s all Chuuya saw until he was fifteen. Brown was never a nice color. In the streets, it was the color of the dirt, it was the color of the ripped clothes of the poor, it was the color of the stained walls and rusted roofs of godforsaken people. Brown was a dirty color and brown was...an unimportant color. Chuuya is tired of brown.

Brown is the color of the happiness that Chuuya could never attain.

He was Dazai’s partner for three months before Mori revealed to him that Dazai was colorblind in his left eye. He remembers realizing then and there that he had been the only one. He had been the only one marveling at the colors in front of him. Dazai next to him only saw greys out of his left eye. And his right eye?

Always bandaged.

Chuuya once saw him change the bandage over his right eye, and he had done it with his eyes closed.

Chuuya was alone .

And it was better that way.

It was supposed to be better that way .

“What are you doing?” Dazai asks Chuuya as Chuuya brushes brown hair out of his eyes.

“Nothing,” Chuuya says, tugging very lightly on a lock of hair and then sighing heavily. “What color is my hair?” Chuuya asks.

“Fire,” Dazai answers. “What color is my hair?”

“I don’t know,” Chuuya says.

“I see,” Dazai nods.

When did Chuuya get so used to lying, to pretending he couldn’t see the world all around Dazai? Chuuya doesn’t remember. All he knows is that, Dazai hadn’t paid attention to Chuuya drinking in the skies, the seas, the city because the Dazai that met him was different. He hadn’t cared about colors and Chuuya had.

“You look at him like he’s your world,”

Odasaku had noticed.

Of course he had .

Chuuya only interacted with the man a handful of times, but he had somehow noticed. Chuuya thinks it was after then that he became conscious of how he reacted around new colors, how he looked at Dazai.

“Did you know?” Dazai murmurs into his pillow. “Atsushi’s eyes are two colors. Ryuunosuke must have had a field day when he realized he didn’t have two soulmates like everyone told him.”

I know .

“Are they really?” Chuuya asks.

“They are,” Dazai nods. “I wish you could see them.”

“Maybe one day,” Chuuya says.

-o-

“Um...Nakahara san...right?” Atsushi runs into Chuuya at the grocery store. He’s running errands for Kyouka. She’s a better cook than he ever will be and she always wants to try out new ideas. Chuuya is frowning down at the vegetable section like it’s personally offended him. Chuuya looks up at him and makes a face.

“Ah, right, Nakajima,” Chuuya nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Is Dazai san still at your apartment?” Atsushi asks. “I have a report that he needs to go through and he isn’t picking up his phone.”

“Ugh, what an annoyance,” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “He never picks up his phone for important things. I’ll go beat him up for you.”

“No!” Atsushi says hurriedly. “You don’t need to go that far!”

“No, trust me. If I don’t give him a good whacking, he will never learn,” Chuuya cracks his knuckles and Atsushi swallows. OK, so maybe asking Chuuya had been a bad idea.

“Is that so?” Atsushi asks, internally asking for forgiveness from his mentor and apologizing in advance. “What are you shopping for, Nakahara san?” Atsushi tries to change the subject.

“Food, obviously. I’m making dinner and I can’t decide if the yellow and green, or the yellow and red, or the green and red bell peppers are a better combination,” Chuuya gestures to the peppers. Atsushi peers down.

“How about all three?” Atsushi asks.

“A hassle and a waste,” Chuuya says immediately.

“Then the green and red?” Atsushi suggests.

“Alright then,” Chuuya nods. He grabs four of them and dumps them into his basket. “Well then, I’ll see you around, Nakajima,” Chuuya says, waves over his shoulder and walks away. Atsushi awkwardly waves back. He turns back to the bell peppers and blinks.

“These aren’t colored labeled. That’s bad, I should report this to the staff,” Atsushi mutters.

-o-

Dazai is being a pain again, complaining about how bright the colors are and telling Naomi and Tanizaki to not even enter his vision. Which is ridiculous, because both of them wear subdued colors. In fact, all of them do except for Kyouka who wears red and Kenji who wears bright blue. But he’s got his hands pressed against his eyes, so Atsushi can only assume he’s being serious.

“Dazai san, do you want coffee?” Atsushi asks.

“Tea,” Dazai whines.

“I understand,” Atsushi nods.

Atsushi gets tea and brings it to Dazai’s table. Dazai sips it and sighs, settling his head on the table.

“Chuuya is horrible at making tea,” Dazai says. Atsushi stares for a moment.

“Oh, that’s right, Dazai san. I wanted to ask, but is Nakahara san your soulmate?” Atsushi asks. Dazai looks up at him and there are dark circles under his eyes.

“No? That hat rack hasn’t met his soulmate,” Dazai says.

“Really?” Atsushi says quietly. Well, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Soulmates didn’t always end up together. It didn’t matter if Dazai and Chuuya were dating but not sou-

“Atsushi?” Dazai yelps as Atsushi almost drops the tray.

“But he has met his soulmate?” Atsushi says.

“No he hasn’t,” Dazai frowns.

“He recognized three unlabeled colors in the vegetable section yesterday,” Atsushi says. Atsushi watches Dazai’s eyes widen and then he’s suddenly scrambling up. He almost crawls over the desks and is immediately hurtling out of the office.

“Dazai san?!” Atsushi cries out and Kunikida lets out some kind of ungodly noise as Dazai shoves past him and flings himself out of the door.

“What the hell?” Kunikida mutters.

“I think...I might have done something…” Atsushi says slowly.

-o-

Chuuya is walking towards the restaurant Kouyou told him to come to. She’s determined to feed him the ramen she’s been raving about for a week now. Everything is perfectly normal, until it’s not .

“Chuuya!” Chuuya hears his name called and turns just in time to see Dazai come flying at him.

“Dazai, what the fuck?!” Chuuya cries out as Dazai crashes into him and both of them hit the street. “What the fuck? Get off me!” Chuuya starts shoving, but Dazai has wound his hands into Chuuya’s vest and he refuses to let go. “You’re acting like a dog! Get o-”

“Chuuya, what color is my hair?” Dazai asks.

“It’s fucking grey! What is wro-” Chuuya spits out.

“It’s brown,” Dazai says.

“Oh, that’s fabulous! It’s not like I can tell tha-” Chuuya snarls.

“My hair is brown and you know that ,” Dazai says. Chuuya’s heart hiccups in his chest.

“So what if Aneesan told me?” Chuuya hisses.

“Don’t lie,” Dazai says. There are people staring at them, but since this is a back street of sorts, there aren’t too many people. “You knew all this time. From the very moment you kicked me into that wall when we were fifteen.”

Chuuya stills, his eyes wide.

“No I didn’t!” Chuuya says, his voice climbing in pitch, panic seizing his entire body.

“Yes, you did. Chuuya, do you want to know what color I could see out of my right eye before I met you?” Dazai asks.

“N-no, no,” Chuuya shakes his head.

“The color of your hair,” Dazai says.

“Will you just stop?” Chuuya screams. “You don’t want a soulmate!”

“Who told you that?” Dazai asks.

“You did!” Chuuya shrieks. “You told me that every time you absolutely refused to open your right eye! You told me that when you didn’t care that I used to casually ask you about colors! Damn it! Even Ango told me that you weren’t interested!”

“That was different!” Dazai shouts.

“In what way?” Chuuya growls.

“Because I didn’t believe in soulmates! I didn’t want to believe that there was someone out there capable of loving me! That's why I never opened my right eye under any circumstances!” Dazai shouts. “And more importantly, my soulmate wasn’t you!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I am your soulmate!” Chuuya snaps.

“Exactly!” Dazai says. “I didn’t want a soulmate if it meant it wasn’t you! And you kept pretending you couldn’t see colors!”

“You mean you didn’t fucking know?” Chuuya snaps.

“I mean, I only connected things after Atsushi told me! But back then I wasn’t concerned with soulmates, so I didn’t even think twice about you staring at me into the distance so much! And by the time I was concerned with soulmates, you had perfected acting like you couldn’t see anything!” Dazai says excitedly, a smile starting to spread across his face.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Chuuya shouts.

“Sometimes!” Dazai grins.

“Why do I even know you?” Chuuya groans, falling back onto the asphalt and his hat rolling a slight distance from him. “Get my hat,” Chuuya demands.

“Later,” Dazai says. “More importantly, Chuuya, do you know what this means?” Chuuya blinks and then everything Dazai said sinks in.

Holy shit, he actually said that his soulmate would have no meaning if it wasn’t me .

Chuuya can’t look at Dazai in the eyes.

“This means we’re getting married!” Dazai says loudly.

“What?!” Chuuya shrieks.

#sunny writes #soukokuweek19 #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #nakajima atsushi #yosano akiko #kunikida doppo #soulmate au #colorblindness #odasaku is there but he's still dead #soukoku are dumbasses and you can't change my mind

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vcepsis · 6 years ago

Note

Could you do I5 for the drabble thingy for Keith? Any pairing is good for me ❤️

Thanks so much for the request! You said any pairing is good so you can take a wild guess what I did (it’s Sheith). My first Keith whump fic, hopefully you enjoy it!

Shoutout, as always, to @feverflushed for reading this and putting up with my yelling about it lol

I(Fever) + 5(In public), taken from this drabble request meme (really enjoying these, they’re so fun to write!!). About 2k.

“The Blades are coming over today,” Shiro announced at breakfast.

Lance shoveled another spoonful of space eggs into his mouth. “For what, a playdate?”

“Yes, Kolivan and I figured you could use a friend your own age.” Lance choked on his eggs as Pidge burst out laughing. Shiro rolled his eyes. “They’re coming to the Castle to discuss our next operation.”

Hunk settled into his seat next to Lance with his own plate. They had found these eggs—so similar to chicken eggs they might have been from a bonafide space chicken—on a planet not too long ago, and Hunk managed to barter for a few boxes of them. “So wait, if Kolivan is arranging playdates for Lance, does that make him his father?”

Pidge scoffed. “No, Hunk, Kolivan is Keith’s father. Obviously Shiro is Lance’s father.”

Hunk nodded, like this made perfect sense. “Right, of course. But then, who’s the mother?”

Pidge hummed in consideration. “Allura? No, even better—Coran.”

“Oh my gosh it’s perfect,” Hunk exclaimed. “Coran is definitely the most motherly person on this ship. He and Shiro make great parents.”

Shiro sighed heavily into his eggs. “I’m giving you all up for adoption,” he muttered darkly.

Keith poked at his own breakfast, listening to the exchange with a kind of detached interest. Normally he enjoyed watching Shiro join in their banter—Shiro had a wicked sense of humor that they were rarely allowed to see, and Keith loved it. Today, however, Keith was hoping if he pushed his eggs around enough, they would come to life and kill him on the spot.

He’d woken up feeling off, but had dismissed it as a bad night’s sleep. Now, though, he found himself shivering into his jacket, no matter how tightly he pulled it around himself. He was actually considering zipping it closed, not that it would make much of a difference. Eating was also out of the question, if the twisting in his stomach was any indication. He was definitely coming down with something, but he decided to employ the tried and true “ignore it and it’ll go away” method.

“Keith?”

Looking up from his mangled breakfast, Keith saw Shiro frowning at him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Keith said quickly. There was no need to worry Shiro over this. It was stupid, and would go away eventually.

Shiro looked like he didn’t quite believe him, but thankfully didn’t push it. “We’ll need you at the meeting today. You’re the perfect bridge between Voltron and the Blade of Marmora. Hopefully it’ll make these talks easier.”

Keith tried to sit up a little straighter in his seat, nodding. They needed him. Shiro needed him. He would be fine.

---

Keith wasn’t fine. Not at all.

He and Shiro had changed into their armor before meeting Allura and Kolivan—along witha few masked Blade members—on the bridge. They were currently discussing……something. Keith had tuned out almost immediately, all of his attention focused on keeping himself from doing something embarrassing, like passing out.

The chill in his bones was slowly creeping up his spine, and though the armor was climate controlled, it didn’t stop the small shivers that were wracking his body. Despite this, his bangs were sticking to his forehead slightly, sweat collecting at his collar. A cough had started brewing in his lungs, and his chest was feeling tight from keeping it repressed, throat aching.

At the moment, though, Kolivan was talking. Keith could barely make out the words; the blood was rushing in his ears and his vision had started going spotty. Kolivan was standing at the head of the table, hands behind his back in the perfect military stance. Shiro sat to his left, listening with rapt attention, interjecting now and then with his own comments. He was also sneaking glances at Keith, a frown pulling at his mouth. Keith figured it had to do with whatever Kolivan was talking about.

Watching them interact was almost enough to keep Keith’s attention. Kolivan was like a glacier: tall, imposing, ice cold. His presence was almost oppressing, weighing down the room with his authority. Shiro, though…Shiro was the sun, bright and beautiful and warm. While he yielded easily to Kolivan’s influence, his aura of leadership was still very much present. But instead of sitting on Keith’s chest like a weight, Shiro’s presence wrapped around him like a blanket, making him feel safe.

Huh. Maybe Keith was more delirious than he thought.

He was just thinking up an excuse to leave that wouldn’t be too suspicious—aliens went to the bathroom, right?—when he heard Shiro speak up. “Maybe now is a good time for a break.”

Kolivan turned to him, keeping his face carefully expressionless, yet somehow still managing to exude an aura of contempt. “A break? I assumed the Paladins of Voltron were more sturdy than that.”

Shiro stood carefully, crossing his arms, but not backing down. “We’ve been at this for hours. And we’ve been going in circles for the last little while. A break would do us all good.” He raised his chin just slightly, a quiet move of defiance in the face of Kolivan’s cold gaze. “I assumed the Blade of Marmora understood the definition of efficiency.”

Kolivan stared, unblinking. There was a moment of silence, the tension pressing down on the room. Finally, Kolivan relaxed slightly. “Let’s reconvene in fifteen doboshes.”

Shiro nodded once, stiffly, and Keith couldn’t help his small sigh of relief. He started to push back his chair, praying to whoever was listening that his legs would hold, when he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look up to see who it was.

“Hey, buddy,” Shiro said softly. “You alright?”

Keith did look up at this, trying to give a reassuring smile and hoping it didn’t look like a grimace of pain. “I’m fine,” he replied, though the tightness in his chest reminded him that no, he wasn’t.

It didn’t matter. He’d push through it; he always did.

Shiro didn’t move his hand, expression unreadable. “Let’s take a walk.”

Keith groaned internally, but just nodded, rising to his feet. He swayed a bit, but Shiro’s hand had moved from his shoulder to his arm, a steadying weight. They slowly made their way to the hallway, Shiro not commenting on Keith’s much slower steps. The walls were shimmering dangerously, and the black spots in his vision were growing larger with each passing second. Where did Shiro even want to go, anyway? Why couldn’t they just stay on the bridge?

The answer came quickly enough, though it felt like an eternity to Keith. The door in front of them looked familiar, but Keith, in his fevered state, couldn’t place it. That is, until Shiro pressed his free hand against the pad, and the door opened with a whoosh.

“What—Shiro?” Keith asked, confused. Unless he was hallucinating—which he would believe at this point—Shiro had managed to steer Keith to his room.

Shiro stayed quiet, and gently but firmly started guiding Keith to his bed. “You need to lie down, Keith.”

Anger flared in his chest—but it was more at himself than at Shiro. How could he let this get in the way of their mission? Shiro needed him, and he was letting him down. Again.

Keith shoved Shiro off of him, taking a shaky step back. “I don’t need you taking care of me,” he snapped, frustration at himself turning his tone sharper than he intended.

Keith just didn’t want to drag Shiro down with him.

Instead of looking hurt, Shiro just raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I know, I know.” Shiro took a step toward him, closing the distance Keith had put between them. “But what if I want to?”

Keith blinked. He didn’t have an answer for that.

Slowly, Shiro stretched a hand toward Keith. Putting a hand on his own forehead, Shiro started to reach out with the other, only to stop dead when he saw he was reaching with the Galra one. A small noise of frustration escaped him, and Keith’s heart clenched. The Galra arm wasn’t great with temperature, so checking Keith’s forehead with it would be pointless. Another thing the Galra took from him.

But instead of moving on, Shiro just continued to reach out to Keith, cupping the back of his neck and gently tugging him forward until they were just inches apart. Dropping his natural hand, Shiro pulled them together until their foreheads were touching.

Keith’s delirious mind kicked into overdrive. Shiro was so close; Keith could count every one of his eyelashes. Those gray eyes bored into him, an ocean on the verge of a hurricane, and Keith was drowning in the storm—

“Definitely a fever,” Shiro murmured, finally letting go. Keith blinked a few times, resurfacing.

Shiro sighed, brows drawn into an unhappy frown. “I thought you seemed off this morning. I’m so sorry, Keith. I shouldn’t have dragged you to the meeting.”

Keith’s legs were shaking, the room was spinning—but none of that mattered. He took a stumbling step forward, latching on to Shiro’s arm with both hands. Shiro turned to him, eyes wide.

“No,” Keith rasped. “I wanted…to help.” Keith felt like fainting, like he was floating, but he gripped onto Shiro harder. Shiro had always been his anchor, after all.

But just then, his legs gave out, and he was falling, he was drowning—

Strong arms wrapped around him, one under his legs and the other behind his back, lifting him up.

“It’s ok, I have you.” Shiro’s voice soothed the panic that had started to bloom in Keith’s chest, the rumbling vibration of it a comforting presence.

After a moment, Shiro laid him on the bed, gently letting go. Keith couldn’t help the whine that escaped him, reaching out for those strong arms again.

A cool hand caressed his face, and Keith sighed, leaning in to the contact. And then it was gone, but before Keith could complain, there were hands on his chest, carefully unbuckling his chest plate. They worked down his body, gently taking off the uncomfortable armor, leaving Keith in his black undersuit. Keith shivered, curling up onto himself. Why was it so cold in his room?

Suddenly, a blanket was being tucked around him, the weight of it settling comfortably on him. Keith sighed again, ducking his head under it.

“I have to get back to the meeting,” Shiro said softly. “Will you be ok until I’m done?”

Oh shit. The meeting. Keith blinked a few times to try to clear the black spots, then pushed himself up on shaking arms.

Only to be gently pushed back down. “No, no, you’re staying here.” Shiro still sounded worried, but there was a small smile on his face. “Who taught you to overwork yourself like this?”

Keith mumbled something about Black Paladins who can’t take a break. Shiro chuckled at that, sounding a little more at ease.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, running his hand through Keith’s hair. Keith’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Was that from his fever, too? Keith couldn’t tell, but the warm feeling was making him feel good, so probably not.

Just as he was about to drift off, there were lips on his forehead. Keith’s heart rate picked up at the contact, but he sank further into the bed as that warm feeling continuing to spread.

There was the familiar whoosh of the door closing, and Shiro was gone. But Keith knew he’d be back, and that thought carried him into a dreamless sleep.

#vld whump #vld fanfic #vld sickfic #sick keith #keith whump #illness #fever #caretaking #caretaker shiro #vcep writes #dizziness #heyo sorry this took forever???#i've never written keith as the whumpee before so i hope this meets your expectations #will i ever write anything under 1k for this meme????#probably not tbh #i guess when you write 10k #2k is technically a drabble lol #this is very caretaking heavy so i hope you're down with that

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positivlyfocused · 6 years ago

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How To Have Easy Conversations With Conservative People

There is rancor in America and elsewhere. No time more than today is communication proficiency, self control, presence of mind and command of intention needed.

Also needed: compassion, honesty, openness and vulnerability.

As a progressive, if you’re expecting conservatives bring these, satisfaction is not in your future. Conservatives are scared and for good reason.

When a human being is scared, they do and say irrational things. Scared people try controlling environmental factors by any means necessary. If they’re scared enough, they’ll get violent.

These acts are typical for any human. Not only conservatives. Progressives verge on similar insecurity-fueled irrationality. The Anti-facists are a great example.

But progressives have no basis for their fear. They are winning.

Conservatives have a LOT of basis for theirfear. A biological basis, as we pointed out here. And, the future — our collective future — offers an overabundance of evidence. It threatens everything they hold dear.

We therefore offer this guide to progressives.

Progressives are best positioned to make history. Not by changing conservative minds. But by changing how they approachconservatives.

This guide presents a path forward. Life-changing, gratifying conversations with conservatives are possible. Conversations that can change opinions are too. These are sorely needed, but they’re not happening today’s social discourse. Not enough anyway.

This opinion-changing must happen on an individual-by-individual basis. Influence on such an insignificant level can change nations.

That’s because it’s amazing what happens when a person feels heard. Equally amazing are the many positive responses Perry gets from conservatives. Like this one:

“Thank you for your kind thoughts. It is refreshing to connect with someone with whom I can discuss some of the challenges confronting our society without the rancor too often associated with such discussions. We do have our differences…”

Progressives don’t need to change the world. They need to change their approach.

So what follows describes practical, sure-fire approaches. They will work.

However, you must practice them. Becoming genuinely proficient with them will transform your experience. Not only with your conservative fellow Americans, but anyone you disagree with.

But….and it’s a big one: if you’re not genuine in your desire for real human bonds with a fellow human being; a human being you right now may consider your existential enemy, you will not get far. Your desire to connect with this other human must be sincere. These are not debating tactics.

Your Ground Rules

Before offering the approaches, let’s set your ground rules. Your rules of engagement. Not engagement with the prospective conservative. We’ll talk about that later.

These rules of engagement are for how you will engage your humanity and your brain in service of your cause. Which is to connect meaningfully with a human you may currently consider your enemy and, through that connection, have an inspiring positive experience via conversation.

So here are your ground rules:

You will not allow words to trigger your well-honed sensitivity to offense. Words are just that. Words. You are not under threat. Even if a threat is offered, they are words. A real threat is immanent behavior likely resulting in serious personal injury. Not someone’s lips moving. Maintain your calm no matter what is said. Better yet, replace your sensitivity to offense with a healthy sense humor.

Your goal is connection. Not winning. You are not trying to persuade a conservative to become progressive. Conservatives serve a beneficial purpose within humanity. Your goal is connection, so you can fulfill your primary and secondary intents and commitments, outlined below.

Your primary intent/commitment is: understanding. You must be clear and rigid in your desire to hear, understand and inquire further into what the conservative believes.

Your secondary (but no less important) intent: finding commonalities between you and your conservative conversation partner.

Follow these ground rules while applying approaches described here. You’ll be stunned as you discover how human conservatives are. Your mind will expand and you’ll understand where conservatives come from.

You may even become genuinely compassionate towards conservatives. Rather than claiming to be compassionate while hating conservatives. Hate, annoyance, extreme frustration are not compassion. That’s hypocrisy. If you’re progressive.

Distinguishing The Context

Now let’s talk about context. To do so we’ll distinguishing two labels which describe communication between people. People often confuse one for the other. Doing so, they get in trouble.

You want a conversationwith the conservative. The word “conversation” may mean to you the same thing as “discussion”, the other word we’re going to clarify. But these words are NOT the same. They describe two totally different intents, processes, outcomes, contexts and feelings.

One aligns with your intent (presuming you’re wanting connection). The other does not.

You want conversation

“Conversation” is a talk, usually an informal one, between two or more people exchanging ideas. You know this. But you may not know the word’s origin. Words’ origins carry their meaning so much better sometimes than their definition. So let’s look at the origin of “conversation”. Here it is:

Interesting, eh? A conversation then, is something that ends with you having a feeling of “living among, or having intimate familiarity,” with the person with whom you have conversed. This is what you want. You want a conversation. Not a discussion.

Not discussion

Let’s contrast conversation now with “discussion”. A discussion is “the action or process of talking about something in order to reach a decision or to exchange ideas.”

That sounds laudable. It’s not though.

Not in the context of making a connection with, and understanding another human being.

Discussions don’t breed familiarity. In discussions, you’re just throwing back and forth opinions. Discussions get you nowhere if you’re trying to connect.

But wait, there’s more.

People don’t generally understand what “discussion” connotes. Probably because, like “converstation”, they don’t understand the word’s origin. Here is the origin of the word “discussion”, the noun and verb so you get a clear picture.

So the intent of “discussions” is not to gain familiarity and a sense of living among the person you are speaking with. No. Its intent is “to examine by argument, to tear apart, disperse, shake or dash to pieces.”

Does that sound like the basis of connection?

We don’t think so either.

Progressives and conservatives are not trying to connect. They are tearing each other apart. And the country along with them.

They are discussing. Not conversing.

If you want a groundbreaking interaction with a conservative, you’re going to have to move out of discussion-mode and into conversation-mode.

Ok?

The Right Way To Approach Conservatives

So here are the approaches. They only work if you stridently refuse to be baited. Strive instead for connection and understanding (your ground rules).

If you can’t stick to the ground rules, it’s best you first practice with someone who can role play a conservative until you get the hang of it.

The approach:

Ask more questions than sharing your opinion.

Express over and over your sincere desire to understand their point of view, not to exert yours, until they relent, i.e. realize you really do want to understand them.

Beseech your conservative to stick to answering your questions. If they avoid or refuse to answer your questions, keep (politely) redirecting the conversation back to your questions, or express vulnerability (we’ll offer an example in a moment) that may trigger them reciprocating.

When the conservative answers your question, offer sincere praise and appreciation. It is not standard practice for someone who is fearful and feeling defensive to answer a question, particularly one that demands they be vulnerable. Especially a question asked by someone the responder believes is the enemy of their values. So reward them for taking a risk.

When the person answers your question, and you have praised them, ask more questions. Offer limited information you may want to share. Instead, listen to the person’s answers.

When they answer, take in what they say. Chew on it, prepare a relevant response. Then offer the response in the form of a question or a polite rebuttal supported with examples.

If they ask a question, answer it. If you don’t have an answer, say so. Risk looking stupid. And if they call you stupid or a loser or whatever, remember ground rule number one.

Repeat these steps.

We’re not offering this in a vacuum. It has worked for Perry several times now to remarkable results. Not every time, but often enough to recommend them. We’re offering one complete example that happened on facebook. We’re offering this example because of the documented evidence. Anyone can look at it to see what happened.

Despite Perry misstepping in several moments, the conversation went quite well. Here’s an overview of it:

Perry offered the following meme on his wall.

It’s inaccurate (which the conservative responders pointed out). But the purpose of sharing it was for conversation. Conversation did happen. It ended with the following statement. This from a conservative who at first expressed himself aggressively:

I enjoyed reading your post. We do have more in common it seems….I wish you much success in your endeavors!

This is where you want to end up. It won’t happen every time, but if you practice, you’ll get better at it. Perry screwed up in this facebook exchange a couple times. But he still ended with positive results in line with the above ground rules, objectives/intents.

So we know if you sincerely use these approaches, you’ll find yourself in a new reality. One where conservatives turn out to be human.

Just like you.

Don’t get triggered

^^A conservative defending her life-decisions, then name calling Perry in a tweet.

People who believe conservatively have been trained to be tough. They live in a brutish world where it’s dog eat dog, and survival of the fittest.

Their manner of interaction feels like discussion. Confrontational, gruff, belligerent. Not conversational. At first.

So be prepared for rebuffs, snide accusations, and direct insults. It will sound like you’re talking to Alex Jones, Donald Trump or Rush Limbaugh instead of the person you’re talking with.

After all, for many conservatives, these people are their heroes. So of course they will pattern their discussion style on those peoples’ styles.

Intelligent conservatives, taking a cue from many conservative organizational playbooks, such as the college campus-focused Turning Point USA, will try to bait you into losing your control.

Don’t take the bait.

Compassion wins. Always.

Self control is your best friend. Again, if you suck at self control, your best fallback is your leftie compassion.

But if “compassion” is just a word for you, or worse, something you believe you “can’t afford in these times”, which is actually something a progressive told Perry recently, then you’ve already lost.

There is always room for compassion. The best, most effective progressives — Jesus, Ghandi, MLK, Harvey Milk — have demonstrated this time and time again.

You must contain your disgust. You must respond with vulnerability. Even in the face of their disgust of you (and what they presume you believe).

For example, when Perry clarified errors a conservative made in interpreting Perry’s previous comment, the person offered the following:

I’d like to continue proving my points but you don’t seem too receptive to the logic I’m providing. Your idea of what a necessity is leaves me wondering how much of a privileged life you must have and probably still do live. Many people survive without an education and many walk to jobs or bike. Many live healthy lives without doctors and hospitals. It’s a shame that you don’t seem to have facts to support your assertions, or did I miss them somewhere in your previous posts? Again I appreciate your ‘opinion’ and respectfully disagree with most if not all of them. Assertions without facts to support them lead me to believe that all of your points are opinion based.

In response, Perry could have been triggered as a person of color, being accused of enjoying privilege. Instead, Perry offered vulnerability. How? By acknowledging his privilege:

So now let’s talk about my privilege, which is a funny thing to bring up IMO. But as I said, I’m more than happy to chat about whatever you bring up.

I am privileged. I live in a great country. It has ALWAYS been great. It also can be improved. I live in the west. I live in a democratic society. I get to live pretty much wherever my finances make it possible to live. I have a wife who loves me, pets who adore me. I enjoy the sunshine, the beautiful state of Oregon and all it has to offer. I enjoy clean air, a healthy body and mind. I enjoy clean delicious food my wife makes for me or I make. I enjoy an adventurous life, where I get to spend my time doing pretty much whatever floats my boat. My life is getting better and better as is my prosperity. I realize my eternal nature and from that I know anything is possible.

I’m also male. I’m a “black” male. I came into the world with the perfect timing such that I can enjoy both these in relative security and comfort (compared to other times). I’m also non-binary. I’m free of constraints of being “straight” (thank god!). I have the fluidity of thought to see the world from multiple perspectives, and not just human ones. I have the privilege to have time to think about life — ordinary day-to-day life, but also extraordinary aspects of life, such as what happens after death and how all that happens after death (and before birth) shapes what happens between birth and death. I have found those answers. From those answers, I know things a LOT of people don’t know. So yeah, I’m privileged. But no more than anyone can be. I can pretty much do right now, whatever floats my boats.

It just so happens, what floats my boats is creating a world where EVERYONE has the opportunity to do whatever THEY want to float THEIR boats….

You can’t be vulnerable if you’re triggered. You can’t offer cogent thoughtful replies either when you’re triggered. When you get triggered, you offer fodder confirming conservative beliefs about you and other progressives (liberals). Don’t be this guy:

youtube

Offer food for thought

Once you have earned their attention by thoughtfully, calmly and constructively listening to, and then expressing understanding, only then should you offer “food for thought”.

Food for thought is not telling them they are wrong. This isn’t about right and wrong. Your food for thought should be an attempt to surface their human connection to other humans…even ones they believe aren’t worthy of that connection.

So for example, when a conservative says people who don’t work are parasites and deserve to starve, you must figure out a way to show how a person can do whatever he wants (even not work, for example) but shouldn’t have to starve. Or worse, work a job but not afford healthcare.

If you can’t do that, you have no basis for making such a claim. And a conservative will tell you.

Some conservatives (many people actually) view people negatively. Conservatives particularly believe people are lazy good-for-nuthins. People must earn their living by doing productive work, they believe. These beliefs aren’t factual. They’re conditioned or taught, which, in a rare moment of vulnerability, is exactly what a conservative told Perry recently:

…Maybe it’s because i’ve been conditioned to believe a certain way or possibly my life experience has taught me to be cautious….

A good way to chart unknown territory with a conservative: appeal to their well-known territory (for the conservative). That is, talk about liberty. But not the way conservatives talk about it.

Liberty as you may know, is a major conservative talking point. But the kind of liberty (aka “freedom”) conservatives believe in is a kind of pseudo-freedom. It’s not really freedom as it is based on coercion: As far as conservatives believe, your freedom doesn’t extend to being a lazy parasite on society. Another way of putting that is: your freedom shouldn’t cost me or anyone else. So pull your own weight.

The response to this point is: “you’re right. And in the 21st Century no one’s freedom should cost anyone anything. This is the future. Everything is possible.”

Perry likes offering this tasty morsel, which creates amazing moments that, at first, stupefies conservatives. But then leads to remarkable, real, conversations.

It begins with Perry’s definition of real freedom:

“A person who is really free can do nothing if that’s what they want to do. A person who wants to spend all their time learning to paint, play video games all day, or fish or whatever, can. And they can do those things (or anything else) without going hungry, living on the street, or getting care for their body (or mind) if necessary. If they’re free that is. They can also get all the education they need or want to learn or improve any skill while doing whatever they want without having to earn money to get those things. And…the person exercising their freedom can do so without anyone else having to do anything they don’t want to do to support that person.”

A definition like that will short circuit most people’s brains (conservative and progressive) namely because most people can’t figure out how this kind of freedom is possible. Perry explains how this is possible. Then shows how the world is careening towards exactly that outcome for everyone.

Your food for thought, therefore, must halt a conservative’s talking points in its tracks. It must get them genuinely thinking. Not spouting conservative boilerplate.

Another example: Perry was at a Starbucks recently. There he happened to sit in a nest of conservatives. That wasn’t his intent. It just happened.

One of the conservative’s asked “what do you do for a living?”

“I don’t do anything for a living,” Perry said. “I don’t believe my living requires me to do anything.”

This conservative’s friend, Mary, piped in.

“So you’re a socialist,” She said.

“No. I’m not,” Perry said.

“Then what are you?” Mary asked.

Knowing Mary was likely a conservative, and therefore Christian (which she was) Perry said “I am what Jesus is.”

That derailed Mary’s train of thought. Now Mary had to ask a question likely not included in her talking points:

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I am that I am,” Perry said.

The conversation turned to Christianity. Perry is not Christian, but he is well-versed on fundamental accuracies upon which Christianity’s distortions are based.

So he was able to form a connection with Mary through her religious beliefs. Then he turned the conversation towards Christian compassion. He was about to ask Mary if her compassion extends to immigrants and if not why not.

But Mary ran out of time (she had to catch a plane).

Still, you can see, by not getting baited into a debate about “socialism” and name calling, and instead connecting with something Mary held dear (her Christian beliefs), Perry found room in between Mary’s boilerplate about people who she prejudges as “socialists”.

You can do this too.

And not only will the conversations you have stun you in their originality, you’ll learn that underneath all that lashing out, anger and conservative closed-mindedness is a human being wanting to be understood and connected with.

That is the short answer to this entire approach. Giving conservatives what they want, so their minds open.

If progressives really want the world they want, they must find a way to give conservatives what they want.

Until you know what that is, you can’t give it to them. And you can’t know unless you understand them. And, you can’t understand them unless you’re willing to talk with them.

And finally, if your approach is based on not understanding justified conservative fear that they’re losing everything, and that’s why they are lashing out, you’re going to have a hard time having a conversation with them.

Rancor in America and elsewhere can be mended. But you can’t expect conservatives to make the first step.

Someone has to though. That someone can be you. And this guide can help.

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void-tiger · 6 years ago

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So, apparently according to LinkBetweenWorlds...you can’t just simply wish the Triforce away to end the conflict surrounding it? But, why not just make a wish on the Whole Triforce that “after this wish nobody can wish on the Triforce ever again, in any time/reality” (since, world and time jumping is a thing).

Boom. Problem solved.

Speaking of which...why Hyrule? It’s been established that its world is larger than that tiny kingdom, yet it’s entirely dependent and completely torn apart by this one artifact. Other kingdoms (like Holodrum, Labrynna, and New Hyrule) function just fine without sitting over the land the Triforce occupies/the entrance to the Sacred Realm.

That, and no matter what Helga claimed, I’m still not convinced that Lorule’s planet hadn’t just simply reached the end of its natural life. Although wishing on a triforce would hypothetically stitch it back together again/restore any climate changes/even restore a dying sun and solarsystem...eh, whatever.

And if Ganon in A Link to the Past had access to the entire Triforce from within the Sacred Realm (and subsequencly transformed it into the Dark World), he really should’ve been capable of doing a LOT more damage than he did over the course of the game’s events. And clearly the “Chosen Hero” has no need of a Triforce Piece to go up against a (with the WHOLE Triforce, wth) Ganon. (Blah blah, Master Sword and Sacred (light/silver) Arrows. But that sword is the most useless item in any given game, as it only slightly upgrades your basic attack strength. All it has going for it is “needed to slay Ganon(dorf)...which it rarely even does THAT. And then not very well, as Ganon often breaks the seal without assistance, which always requires the assistance of Zelda and/or the Sages. Meanwhile? The arrows are always OP and fun to use, or specific to Zelda-only if she joins the fray (in which case they get nerfed to only stun. Riiiight. That doesn’t smack of defanging a female character that has no reason to be damselled all the time ‘cause “tradition” whatsoever.)

Sidenote: if Link can face Ganon without the Triforce of Courage, and in Zelda 1 was only holding the Triforce of Wisdom (with the Triforce of Courage not existing at all until its introduction in The Adventures of Link), the “Three Chosen” apparently DON’T have to be holding the pieces they’re generally associated with.

And while I’m still talking about Ganon...

It’s also been established that Ganondorf’s main complaint in Ocarina of Time and especially Wind Waker was the hardships the Gerudo faced with apparently no way out other than to conquer a more habitable land. (Which, honestly makes more sense than the “traditional” destruction for destruction’s sake. There’s no endgame to that!)

And if you actually look into how the Hylians talk about not just the Gerudo, but other non-hylians?

They’re not treated as full citizens. And often as nothing more than “beasts”.

Yet we’ve also been shown time and time again that these non-hylians are, in fact, both sapient (thinking) and sentient (feeling). Zora have their own government, whether they’re the Fish-Like zora of OoT or TP, or the swampy kappa looking ones of the older games and LBW. Bokoblins have their own culture. Moblins, Honox, and “River Zora” have all been seen cowering in fear and even paying off Link to just be left alone. “Sea Zora” are refused medical treatment. Gorons are refused service, and sometimes space to even sell their wares (or try to disguise themselves to be able to sell at all). Gerudo are regarded as prostitutes and murdering thieves. Sheikah are nearly always on the verge of extinction and regarded as “mystical servants” (or in BotW, blamed for something beyond their control).

Is it really any wonder that these “monster” races and non-hylian humanoids often are desperate enough to either “protect their own”/defend their territories aggressively or outright even side with Ganon(dorf), Demise, and other series antagonists?

I think not.

Hyrule creates its own problems.

Remove an OP artifact from temptation, treat your citizens and neighbors humanely, gain some freaking autonomy vs always waiting for some “Chosen Hero” or the gods to save you, and actually allow Zelda to reach her full magical/combat/political potential and even just walk among her people without scheming a breakout...and most of Hyrule’s troubles will fix themselves.

(Plus, enough of pitting the Three Chosen against eachother. If they’re going to be Divine Chosen Ones, actually let them interact without a rehashed conflict ‘cause tradition/samsara cycle. There is so much potential for Ganondorf, Zelda, and Link to combine forces for either the salvation or destruction of the world.)

#legend of zelda #zelda #ganondorf #loz link #triforce #hyrule

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dpdoggie · 7 years ago

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Some Symptoms of my DPD

These are some symptoms of my DPD (dependent personality disorder). Not everyone with DPD may have these same symptoms but I thought I’d share since it is hard to find info on us. Also when researching DPD make sure you search co-dependency. I’m going to number these for later reference so I don’t have to retype.

1. Not wanting to eat alone or until I’ve had some sort of social interaction or the hope of social interaction after eating.

2. Sleeping in my parent’s bed until I was locked out the room on a nightly basis (I slept in the room until I was about 9 years old or so.) I continued to check to see if the door was locked every night for about a month.

3. Would sometimes scream in the middle of the night in hopes that someone would come to check on me so I knew if I was in trouble I would be safe

4. Would always want my mother’s attention when she was talking to someone else.

5. Feeling anxious and scared when alone, and not expecting anyone to be around for longer than a day. This would often lead to panic attacks as soon as they’d leave.

6. Feeling like I was alone and therefore had no reason to be alive because my friends couldn’t physically be around me everyday.

7. Sometimes not wanting to figure things out because I knew others would help me.

8. Instinctually asking certain people (people I regularly depended on and saw as capable) just about anything because I always expected them to know something I didn’t.

9. Not even thinking about what I would want for myself when given a choice but instead what others would expect me to want or what others would say I should do.

10. Literally feeling the solitude of being the only person in the world and therefore not having a reason to anything let alone breathe or use the bathroom because other’s weren’t around.

11. “If I can’t help this person then why am I even alive? I’m a waste of space and a terrible human being.”

12. As a child I would sometimes just fake being sick. No even to get out of school but just to know that if I were to be sick that I would be taken care of.

13. I used to hug my mother upwards from 80 to maybe a couple hundred times a day. I would literally feel empty and anxious if I wasn’t hugging her. It’s like having a million spiders crawling on your body and knowing they’re there but having to resist the urge to brush them off of you. That’s how I would explain the anxiety.

14. “I’m alone. No one is around to know if I’m alive or not. So I might as well be dead. Why am I even moving. What’s the point if no one knows.”

15. Having an opinion that I believe in and know it’s right because of research I have done but not calling out an authority figure because “I don’t want everyone to hate me. Everyone will hate me and I’ll embarrass myself because I’m probably wrong anyway.” Also note that an authority figure doesn’t have to actually be an authority figure but can literally just be anyone that I’ve assumed to be more capable, popular, or admired than me.

16. Only doing my homework and school work with the hopes that I can be useful to my friends who didn’t do there work. Or not doing my work because I assume my friends will help me.

17. Motivation?? For myself?? Doing things because I want them done? Lol. More like, “I’ll take care of this thing so that it doesn’t bother this person in case they happen to come by it.” or “I’m doing this project because otherwise my teacher will be disappointed in me and I want them to like me.” or “My dad just told me to eat so I need to eat because he wants me to.” or “People need this so even though it comes as sacrifice to myself I have to do it. I need to. It’s my job. If I don’t I’m an awful disgusting waste of space.”

18. Doing something for myself and solely for myself, by myself makes me feel so horrible that I want to cry and self harm. It makes me feel more useless than empowered because I am so grossly aware of the amount of energy it took up for me just to do this one things and how can I live like this? It should be simple? Right? But it isn’t. It takes so much out of me and I don’t know why.

Co-morbidity with BPD

Those are some examples, I may add more later. But now let’s go through some things. DPD is often co-morbid with BPD. I haven’t seen a case of someone who have DPD who doesn’t at least have traits of BPD.

Note the black and white thinking in 17, 14, and 11. There are also traits of self-splitting in those. Note the general dependency of social interaction for means of value.

Now think of other things like impulsively putting yourself in unsafe and generally not good situations when around others that you depend on because you know someone will either talk you out of it or tell you that it’s not safe. You do this because being reminded that other’s will take care of you is one of the only ways you actually feel safe and worthy of value.

Lack of impulse control is a key characteristic of BPD. That coupled with traits of DPD can result things like what I mentioned in the passage above.

It can also result in a impulse to self harm when alone.

The addictive personality trait of BPD when co-morbid with DPD can also result in things like:

- addiction to online communities because of validation and being able to almost always talk to or interact with any of your online friends

- addiction to pseudo social interaction like Youtube videos. - I used to marathon from the time I woke up to the time I fell asleep hour long live streams of my favorite Youtubers just because it helped me from feeling like I was alone. I would eat because of them, I would have the energy to take of things I needed because of them, I would finally go eat or go to the bathroom because of them.

- the people you have come to rely on and want to be dependent on are also your FPs (people who your emotional stability is highly dependent on and who you want to be around all the time and receive constant attention form. People who you would literally sacrifice and do anything for because you tie your reason to being alive to them. Whether they are actually good people or not you are likely to be believe they are and split (or suddenly hate) anyone who tries to tell you otherwise.)

- “I need you.”

Causes of DPD

Let’s talk about some causes of DPD. There are probably more than what I will mention here but DPD is something that is not heavily researched. It’s an old personality disorder but many professionals barely know what it is. I’m guess because it’s just not “edgy” or “interesting” (sensationalized) enough.

But one cause can be being often physically ill as child. I for example had severe asthma from birth to about 3 years old. From a young age my brain was trained to associate others actively keeping me alive with my ability to be alive. Yes, I know that many infants are aware that they would not be alive without care-givers but the difference here is that I was regularly on the verge of death. I was only ever brought back to not having my life in danger because of the interference of others and the attention that others needed to give me. I still had pretty bad asthma until about the age of 7 but I was in the hospital about 11 times a year form birth to 3 years old. They even diagnosed me at about 10 months of age because of how severe it was (when they typically don’t diagnose you with asthma until about 4 years old.)

Another cause of DPD can also be growing with a narcissistic abuser. You are only alive because of them and they remind you of this constantly to the point of which you are afraid of doing things without them being there. They have convinced you, that you are not capable on your own and that you need them to survive. Without them you will die or your life will fall apart.

Anyway, please do more research on DPD it is greatly neglected by the psych community.

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