#why am i tagging so much when i hope no one sees this atrocity...

[iwimosay]

Genoary day 26!

FRESH!Geno BOY am i late to the party. Actually I’ve been drawin stuff all month i just wanted to post it when I could make it look…better.

But since its 11:59 and day 26 is almost over for me it was TOO TEMPTING

So let me post this incomplete genofresh.

(Fun fact, this war originally the outfit swap but then i thought of a better idea)

Tried to draw it to look like Geno does in the actual aftertale comic, i want to color it digitally.

I wanted to wait to post all my genoary stuff but i was scrolling the web and i 

saw @alainaprana ’s entry and It was literally 5 minutes till midnight so I had to

Fresh and Geno belong to @loverofpiggies Genoary challenge by @shinydiamondblog (I think correct me if wrong)

Will probably re-upload when I finish it (I tried)

[nights-at-crystarium]

Talking about THE comic!

I yelled about it randomly on my personal twitter or in the tags here but probably it’s a better idea to write the first “official” post C:

So, the two idiots I’ve been drawing for half a year now. Mostly self-indulgence, but also a slow preparation for THE comic. At first I merely wanted to tell what atrocities Vivi did in Norvrandt and how that affected their relationship, giving it, I dare fucking say, a rather unique angsty spice.

I’ve never written before, in late January/February I started scripting the Vivi-flavored ShB+5.x story to casually drop it maybe in several releases. A month or two forward, I’ve gone completely mental practiced writing fics (one published, a few more ready, a few more cookin’ but I’ll keep them until the corresponding Fragments are released), spent every day thinking about them so obsessively that the planned comic script got remade with slighly more finesse on my end as a writer, more depth as ViviRaha completely went out of control as characters, and their story started expanding in all directions at once.

I Wrote A Lot and I still keep adding a bit here, a bit there at least once a week. By now the broad concept is fleshed out, just as the characters, everything’s ripe and juicy and ready for consumption. Only one lil thing: now I’ve actually gotta draw it :’D

When am I actually starting? How will it look? Will it be free? And other questions that you guys might have, I’ll try to cover under the cut.

“Fragments” is a wolgraha-centered (duh!) comic that’ll be published here on tumblr for free. I’ll be crossposting it to twitter but the format’s oriented for this hellsite first and foremost. Not sure about the actual webcomic platforms, too much hassle for now. I’m still thinking how to handle the early access and whatnot, I MUST think about it since my art is the only source of my income. Likely I’ll have one release up on tumblr and two next ones on Patreon and Kofi to support my further work on the comic.

I AM anxious about it. My life currently is a huge unstable mess, mildly put, so I’m extra worried about starting the comic, announcing the release schedule, then getting blindsided by something new irl (so far 2022 had 3 major events that left me crippled for weeks - speaking of the personal scale events ofc) and having to go on a break that’d last for who knows how long, and how it’d impact my art style (yeah my mental state, my productivity and the very way I draw are unfortunately linked). There’s no guarantee of a safe and stable life for me atm, the best I can do is to start the comic regardlessly and hope shit doesn’t get worse.

So far the plan is to post every Friday (because Fragments Friday, ha!), anywhere between 2 and 10 pages (2 horizontal frames per page like in the early Tamen De Gushi), depending on the script. Max 10 pages because that’s how much a tumblr photopost can have. I call this “release”. Some scenes will be short and sweet and easily contained within one release, the others will span over multiple releases.

I’m NOT sure I can handle the weekly release schedule. I’ll try and see. I still have to dedicate most of my art juices to the stuff that pays for my rent and food, unfortunately. If I can’t keep up, I’ll dial it down to every other Friday, i.e. 2 releases a month.

Why “Fragments”? The releases won’t always be tightly connected between each other by the plot, yes they vaguely follow the canon timeline, yet many of them will be like glimpses into their everyday life, hence Fragments. I’m aware it’s cheeky, considering the Shards and all that. So, getting that out of the way: Vivi and Raha are NOT fragments of each other! They’re two separate entities, yes, mirrors and missing puzzle pieces of each other, but only that :>

The pages won’t be numbered, but each release I’ll number and put in a comic masterpost for the easy permanent access.

The script’s 20k+ words, some of those are my technical notes, some parts could be dropped, rewritten etc. The major beats are set, the rest’s still a wip. I don’t worry too much about polishing the text right now, I’ll have time for that during the storyboarding. Some scenes will have to be adapted for the visual format anyway. Here’s how my comic folder looks so far.

*screams in terror because chapter 1 INDEED HAS NO NAME YET*

The story itself still mostly takes place in ShB+5.x, save for the chapter 1 which is ARR. I carved out two “time pockets” for ViviRaha to rest and breathe and be happy or angsty in, post-5.0 and post-5.3, chapter 6 and chapters 9 and onward, respectively. Chapter 11 is my personal ShB epilogue. Chapter 12 still happens during the post-5.3 time pocket and focuses on Vivi’s background, by then you should be invested enough to care about that :> Chapter 13 is still tentative, an even deeper dive into Vivi’s past, showing his, gasp, old flames! A bunch of them. And chapter 14, if there’s ever such a thing, would finally move on to Endwalker. But for now I’m staying in my ShB bubble. There’s an in-character reason why I don’t wanna subject Vivi to the Endwalker events just yet. We’ll see. We’re speaking of a behemoth of a story that’ll take several years to get out. I have ample time to think about the later chapters.

Characters? Mostly ViviRaha (what? NO WAY), Alisaie’s the second most visible canon character, followed by Thancred, Lyna and Feo Ul. The Chais, Ardbert, Emet, Alphinaud, Tataru, Y’shtola, Estinien and Urianger have just a few lines. I’d LOVE to have more Urianger, who knows, maybe I can train my writing muscles and wedge more of his scenes in. Ryne and Krile as decorations (sorry!). Cid and Rammbroes in chapter 1. More ocs will appear in chapter 12. Chapter 13 has.... Drumroll...... Aymeric and Haurchefant as Vivi’s old flames. They were important. But you’ll have to survive until THAT late point in time to see them <w< There are some more ocs/npcs as well.

Since I’m looking at the weekly amount of (not always, but often) 10 pages each with 2 frames, I need to think about optimization. I’m not used to monochrome and I LOVE colors, so I wanna try doing something like this. Color is the quick and fun part for me, however, I still need time to train my hand in the lineart department. It won’t be super polished just because I’m not about that, but I wanna be personally happy with my sketchy style. I’d say I’m 70% there.

Drawing them nearly every day, figuring out their proportions and outfits, practicing general anatomy, all is the preparation work. I admit being absolutely lost and terrified in the background department. I’m rather comfy and chill about the natural landscapes, THAT I have no problem with, however, I’m still unsure about the buildings and interiors that I’ll wanna avoid, but I’ll have to draw at least SOME of those. So, yet another slowing down factor. I need more practice.

Fragments will be character- and feels-centric with little to no action/combat since it’d only detract from the story. I’m trying to stay as close to the main point of this comic’s existence as possible. Just feels, lots of them. Various flavors.

More about the technical stuff: ✓ finding/making textures (the slight overlay to avoid the flat, "digital” look) ✓ making and testing a storyboard template ✓ doodling cover ideas (atm 8 or so chapters have a cover that I’m happy with) - picking a font (or making own) - making frame and bubble templates (normal speech, screaming, thoughts, etc) - finalizing character designs (proportions that I’ll stick with to avoid awkward wobbly style) - finalizing character outfits for the same purpose as above

I’ll never be ultra-completely-ready but this checklist is vital. I’m doodling like crazy to make sure the main characters look exactly how I want them to. Vivi’s more or less complete, but lately I’ve realized that I still can’t draw our beefcake cat bf like I see him in my head, so I’m working on that.

Still no deadlines, I HOPE to start before August but who fucking knows. I’ll talk some more and make a lil countdown once I have at least 3 releases ready to go. Fragments is still my self-indulgence but it’ll span over the next few years. I’ll just start it when I’ve figured out the bare minimum and flail my way from there on :’D

Fragments already has its own tag where you can see some standalone comics and illustrations that I deem fully canon. Those posts also have a chapter tag, which should help situating each event on the broader timeline.

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

Piandao for the ask game?

First impression

cool swordmaster who appreciates sokka <3

Impression now

old gay man who has a hard time letting people in because of his abandonment issues & years spent hiding his true (gay, anti-war) self, but who sees his struggles as a nonbender in sokka and decides to open up his heart and give him the support and love he wishes he'd received as a young man. a victim of his nation and a perpetrator of its atrocities, a good honest man and also a practiced liar blending in with the upper classes he was not born into. a minor character i am totally normal about <3

Favorite moment

"you messed things up in a very special way" is such a good description of sokka, because as much as i hate people painting him as an incompetant funny guy, part of his character is that he often throws himself at new things and fails hilariously. "why would you lick the wall of a cave?" "i have a scientific curiosity" curiosity and creativity are good things! messing up because you're doing something new and creative is something to be praised, a good quality. sokka throws shit at the wall to see if it sticks, and not all of it does, but if you keep throwing something will, and more and more over the course of the show sokka succeeds at what he tries. piandao is smart enough to see this and praise him for it.

i guess that moment's more about sokka. but all of piandao's great moments are. "you added a rainbow" "creativity, versatility, and intelligence", etc.

oh and there's this screenshot i found while looking for art references:

[screenshot of atla. piandao looks down at sokka with a warm smile]

look at him. look at how fond he is of his son. instant serotonin

Idea for a story

i've been working for a while on a story where sokka comes to train with piandao post-war. piandao keeps giving him artistic projects because he feels uncomfortable teaching swordplay in peacetime, but sokka was hoping for action as a distraction from his thoughts and is annoyed and confused that piandao's making him think and process his feelings. meanwhile, zuko keeps trying to get him to come to the palace as an advisor and sokka wants to help but doesn't know if he wants to stay in the fire nation long term. also jeong jeong is there.

Unpopular opinion

i never know how to answer this type of question for minor characters. there isn't enough discussion to create a majority opinion to disagree with. if i disagree with a minor character opinion, i'm probably just disagreeing with one person. every opinion is unpopular.

so i'll just take this space to once again lament the sad state of the sokka&piandao tag on ao3. my true unpopular opinion is that fandom should shut up about zuko and stop giving him sokka's father figures

Favorite relationship

in canon he only has one meaningful relationship, and that's with sokka (NOT zuko). and i love it, and have already elaborated on it.

noncanonically, jeong jeong. y'all know this. heartbreaking divorce despite never being married. the dynamic of nonbender who wanted to be a firebender and a firebender who hates his firebending. a bickering old married couple. implied/referenced homophobia ao3 tag. you know.

Favorite headcanon

idk if it's my fave exactly but just recently i was working on the ofmd au and i decided that the way i'm going to deal with him being more competant than stede is to make him bad at sailing. he's really skilled at other things but the only reason they haven't capsized is sokka and katara's water tribe know-how and he's also gotten seasick multiple times. meanwhile jeong jeong, ex-admiral of the fire nation navy, is an extremely skilled sailor and becoming a pirate when he left his nation actually made sense and piandao you're a fucking idiot. basically he thinks piandao is stede (clueless rich idiot) while ed thinks stede is piandao (elegant wealthy Artist). but of course piandao decided piracy was going to be his rebellion because he suspected that's what jeong jeong did so really coming on his ship and insisting on staying because "you'll get yourself killed" is actually playing right into piandao's hands. haha you WILL fall back in love with your ex

but even outside the au i DO think it's funny to imagine that piandao has something he's shitty at. he's the perfect skilled master in canon so if i'm going to develop him more i have to give him some flaws, right?

anyway sorry this took so long i am not normal about this man

[night-will-fall]

ok i have a quick rant on the Darkling/Darklina/Shadow and Bone trilogy i have to get out. i genuinely feel she let down his character, alina’s character, and in general the whole arc of the narrative.

**i want to clarify first that I am not anti Leigh. i’ve tagged that per someone’s request, but the truth is i simply feel that anybody who decides to put a story out there in the world, or any kind of writing, will be subject to criticism. that’s part of writing, it’s part of art, and it’s just part of creation and the real world, no matter your intentions or motivations for your piece. just like this post—it should be subject to criticism, too. that’s how discussion happens and people learn. it’s not an attack on the original writer because the writer is not their work. i love Leigh and her choice to put her stories out in the world, even if i disagree with some of the choices she made. it’s only because of her that we get to have these conversations about our favorite characters in the first place. (I also don’t think it’s fair to her and all the work she put into SEVEN novels to reduce the decisions she made about her characters and plots to ‘coping’ — just my two cents. I’m sure her trauma influenced her work, it’s hard to imagine otherwise. but I doubt she or anyone else would vouch for people refusing to critique their work because of something she went through that does not define her.)**

the problem i have with Leigh’s writing of the Darkling is that after Shadow & Bone, it was so forced. she wrote him doing all of these implausibly horrible things after the fans started to like him to force it down our throats that he was the irredeemable villain. and yet when he was first introduced, i was so hopeful that this character called ‘the Darkling’, a shadow summoner and master of darkness, wouldn’t fall into the predictably, disappointingly easy trope of evil as darkness and good as light. so when she did exactly that, it felt like a betrayal of the character after he had already begun to take on a life and heart of his own. we connected to him. and she did her very best to sever that connection in favor of an emotionally manipulative boy who did almost nothing to help alina grow. Mal actually hindered and harmed her growth, constantly guilting her for having wants, desires, and feelings of her own that didn’t revolve around him, whereas the Darkling never wanted her to be anything but herself. he, like her, was capable of seeing the bigger picture, whereas Mal was an absurdly selfish and bizarre character that cared about none of that (and didn’t even “want” alina until she was famous and desired ?!! like come on). i sincerely can’t believe he was intended to be the love interest we connected with and rooted for.

and i know she likely had personal reasons for characterizing Aleksander the way she did, possibly attempting to embody anecdotal experiences with a specific person who did her harm in her own life, but with this character it felt unnatural and forced. she basically ignored of all of his character’s potential as a complex, nuanced human tortured by watching generations of his people’s pain, trauma, exploitation, murder, etc. (even if it was true that he had eroded morally/emotionally because of the mervost and centuries of standing witness to these atrocities), ironically dismissing his potential to grow in a story that was supposed to be all about growth (another narrative failure i won’t get into here). not to mention that his mission’s intent wasn’t even inherently evil (morally grey at worst, which is so much more compelling than pure evil anyway, which makes it extra disappointing that she bungled this), and by the end of the series all of his completely valid points just went unaddressed and people continued to suffer for it. his attempts to solve that problem were simplistically reduced and deemed as plain ‘evil’, with very few people recognizing the deep empathy and collective pain that drove his actions—something that alina actually did understand. 

i feel bad for him. that’s why i like him and that’s why i like Darklina. he deserved better, and so did alina. their chemistry was so eloquently written (and portrayed in the show) and i truly believe they could’ve helped each other grow. but we never got a chance to see or explore that because of how Bardugo’s personal feelings obscured the natural direction of her characters’ development, ultimately doing a serious disservice to her narrative (she does this a few times — prioritizes certain plotlines and actions that she wants to include even if they don’t align with the natural progression of the story). she tries to make us believe certain things and feel certain ways about her characters and plot points in opposition of the simple truth that they just don’t fit. alina’s character essentially ends up right where she started with only a few slight differences, one of them being the loss of power, which was something that made her uniquely, intrinsically her, and was cruelly ripped away in a nonsensical punishment for what? daring to trust? daring to break away from the insecure hold Mal had over her, and constantly used against her? daring to grow and learn? daring to delve deeper into her own power as a Grisha? daring to connect with the Darkling and the nobility of his motives? it was all around just a sad and disappointing direction to take a story that had so much potential to be powerful and different.

[not to mention all of the beautiful balance in the light/shadow trope, the star-crossed lovers torn apart by situational and ideological conflict, the novelty of their powers and their mirroring inabilities to “fit in” or find others like them, like. come ON, that could have been so great. ugh. just to abandon it all for dusty, insecure Malware. pls.]

ok end rant. thank you if you read my heated word vomit.

[goldheartedsky]

I told myself I wasn’t going to make a post like this—that I wasn’t going to stoop to the level of making call-out posts—but I really can’t stay silent after what has happened in the last day or so.

The TOG fandom has a serious issue with excusing antisemitism and allowing people who have painfully hurt marginalized groups to continue to ignore, dismiss, and refuse to acknowledge their limits of intersectionality in regards to social justice. I have seen it myself, been on the receiving end of it, and have talked to other Jews in this fandom about what’s been going on and it needs to start being addressed.

Now, I’m not going to name names or tag people (mainly because I have been blocked by almost all of them for this very issue) but if you message me I will gladly tell you the users involved in this. Also, if you have doubts of any of this’s validity and would like screenshots, feel free to reach out to me here or via Discord and I will share them.

A lot of this started when a member of the All&More server had brought up the scientific and medical “discoveries” during the torture and medical experimentation that took place during the Third Reich and how a lot of the origin of it isn’t taught. LR made a comment saying that “we are three-dimensional creatures who are stuck moving forward in time and can’t go back” and added that not using the research won’t make past horrors not happen. When the original user added that there has been a movement in medicine for removing Nazi scientists names off discoveries and that progress was slow moving, she deflected the conversation onto herself, saying “Not using research won’t make my family not harmed by the Japanese” and then immediately pivoted into admitting that, from what she understood, there weren’t any particularly valid scientific discoveries made by them. She then said, in regards to said Nazi atrocities, “Take it, learn about it, put it in context, and then own it and transform it.”

A Jewish member of A&M voiced their discomfort about possibly taking medicine that was a direct result of the murder of their grandparents and other relatives, to which LR said, “Still stuck in the 3rd dimension, still moving forward in time.” I brought up the fact that medicine was built on antisemitism and racism and that starting over would be better than a lot of the procedures we have now. There is a longstanding issue in medicine of disregarding black pain and so much of what we have now is created by eugenicists—including Nazi scientists. There is still a lot of Jewish trauma due to medical experimentation and that is oftentimes dismissed.

LR then made a flippant comment about “Does this count as Godwin’s Law?”—which is about how all internet discussions lead to someone being compared to Nazis/Hitler. When called out on the inappropriateness of the comment, she did not respond and was backed up by one of the mods of the server. There was no apology made nor an acknowledgment about the casual antisemitism of the comments she made and the dismissal of Jewish trauma/pain.

Now, fast forward a couple months when I was contacted by a third party who had not been in the server at the time but had joined and heard about what LR had said there. H said they were friends with LR and had concerns about antisemitism and would like my perspective. I explained what had happened and offered screenshots if they would like them, which they did. They thanked me and apologized that it got to a point that I felt unsafe in the server and had to leave, which I appreciated.

A couple weeks later they reached out to me again and offered to broker a conversation between LR and myself because the situation wasn’t sitting well with them. I was skeptical (because I had been blocked at that point) and didn’t have a lot of hope that this conversation would actually take place but I felt a responsibility to try and be the bigger person and deal with what had been said head on, so I agreed to sit down and have a discussion with her as long as there was a third party in the chat as well—given our history.

After a couple weeks of back and forth with H and hearing that LR had said that she would “think about it”, she finally agreed. I was asked for a time and date and I gave my availability and was told she would be asked for the same. A couple days later, I was suddenly told LR would only be comfortable with this conversation if H acted as a “literal go-between” with us copy-pasting our responses in their DMs so we can “sit with the message and everyone can get to them when they can” rather than it being a session with an actual back and forth and was asked if I was okay with that. I honestly said no, because this was supposed to be a situation where she and I sat down and discussed what she said in the server, not a back and forth message relay where the conversation got dragged out for days or weeks or however long it was going to take. I said if she was serious about meeting me halfway on this, she needed to be able to sit down and actually talk.

H copy-pasted my response to LR and came back that she had backed out of the conversation, which part of me had expected from the beginning—even though all I wanted from this sit down was for her to understand how hurtful the antisemitic comments were and an apology.

These comments that were made in the server are not a secret. It’s pretty well known what was said and again, these were all on record, not privately made in some DM. She has still not owned up to the comments she said, nor has she ever apologized for them. She has ignored message after message about them and blocked more people than I can count. Many of the people defending her when the discourse begins have also been messaged about the comments she’s said and also either block people or ignore the messages completely and refuse to acknowledge them.

Now, this being said, in the most recent conversation about fandom racism, someone brought up the post that was made reducing users on ao3 to faceless, nameless numbers without saying who they were, what they had done, and how they were specifically contributing to the problem of racism in this fandom. They made the comparison of other situations like HR looking at pay stats to see how to fire and included “Nazis, capitalists, and colonizers.”

This is not an invalid argument. There have been other Jews in the fandom who specifically voiced feeling uncomfortable for the exact same reason. However, another person, LT, decided to specifically make a post calling the OP out and drag them for having the audacity to liken it to the Shoah (which, mind you, this person is not Jewish nor did they decide to capitalize Shoah or the Holocaust as they should have). She received a reply saying, “you’re offended by antisemitism? Here’s LR’s (someone LT has agreed with multiple times over racism in fandom) track record of antisemitic comments” which outlined everything I delved into previously.

LT said that they were “unaware of this incident until a couple days ago” but agreed that it was an upsetting display of casual dismissal of Jewish pain and hoped that LR had apologized. She was then called out for being aware of it and still continuing to reblog LR’s posts even after knowing about the comments and was linked to my post clarifying that LR had not apologized and refused a discussion about it, to which LT said that she had gotten “quite a different version outlined in the post linked and corroborated by a third party” and “felt uncomfortable” making a value judgement, insinuating that I was not being truthful about my side of the story.

I messaged LT off-anon and said that I was not lying nor over-exaggerating about what had happened in the server or about the following discussion about trying to broker a conversation with LR, and was immediately blocked by her. I am also not the only Jew who has sent her messages about this topic, only to have their messages ignored.

Now, am I surprised that I was immediately blocked after voicing my issues with what LT had said in that post? No.

She has a history of making antisemitic comments, most of which happened during the brunt of the Israel/Palestine discussion happening, which included statements such as “You cannot be considered indigenous if you hold a position of power”, that, despite having been displaced for 2,000 years, the Jewish diaspora was “integrated” into their respective communities (a wholly untrue statement), as well as linked to and promoted a website with extremely antisemitic articles including one about “Spartan Jews” and how Israeli Jews are violent to “send messages to their deprived self-esteem” that they won’t be victims again. Half of the comments on the site’s front page included such hits as “Death to all Jews” and “Wow, I had no idea this was happening—I guess it is true that Jews control the world and the mass media.” This website was repeated in multiple posts as “unbiased” and “a good resource” for other people to truly know what was going on.

Jewish dissent on the content of some posts and that website went unacknowledged and dismissed.

Being that LT is a relatively big user in the TOG fandom, her posts got circulated frequently. Seeing things like that touted as unbiased was extremely triggering for me and multiple Jews in this fandom that I’ve spoken to.

Now, the reason I made this post in particular was because I have seen a lot of echoing of the sentiment: “no matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is...well aligning yourself with racists.”

This statement NEEDS to become intersectional. If we are criticizing the work of people because of who they hold company with, why does that end at racism? If we are going to have a discussion about racism in this fandom, why are we letting it come from people who have openly said antisemitic things, people who have stood by them and supported them in silence, and people who have silenced Jewish voices speaking up about this issue.

These are not separate issues. This is a really good post regarding the white washing of Jews in social justice discussion and it comes full circle into the medical experimentation discussion. Jews were not seen as white during the Holocaust. The Nazis were trying to cleanse the Aryan race because they did not view Jews as white. They experimented on them because they did not view them as white and, thus, disposable.

Every Jewish diasporic community is still vulnerable. Even though the US has half the world’s Jews, over 50% of the religiously based hate crimes are consistently anti-Jewish even though Jews make up 2% of the population. Chinese Jews are still holding their holiday celebrations in secret due to government crackdowns. The attempted genocide of Beta Israel was less than 50 years ago. Across the Middle East and North Africa, Jewish communities are barely hanging on after centuries of attempted destruction. These are not just Jewish issues but racial issues as well because when people make the sweeping generalization of “Jew” and they only mean white-passing Ashkenazi Jews, it erases so much of our community.

I absolutely agree that this fandom needs to have a discussion about race and portrayal in fic and what we can do better moving forward—and I want to see that done—but we also need to acknowledge what so many people starting this discussion have said and the marginalized groups they have hurt along the way. I see these posts come across my dashboard and know exactly who they're coming from and what they think of people like me. If we are going to say, “No matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is aligning yourself with racists,” then we NEED to be saying, “If you are aligning yourself with antisemites, you’re aligning yourself with antisemites.”

We all need to move forward. But that means moving forward together. Jews included.

[thetravelerwrites]

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter Two

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Content Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Abductions Words: 4448

Lilya conducts her marriage interview with His Majesty. Please reblog and leave feedback!

There was a tense moment in which no one moved. The triplets and the king’s attendants watched apprehensively as Lilya stood there, taking in the sight she was seeing. Slowly, she took a step forward, and then another, and stopped right in front of the desk.

“Does that hurt?” Lilya asked softly.

The king actually took a small step backward, clearly not expecting this. For a moment, no one knew how to react to her question. After a minute of heavy silence, His Majesty picked up a pad of paper that lay on the desk in front of him and began to write.

~No, it doesn’t hurt.~

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Lilya said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ve seen people lose their heads before; it always looked like it hurt terribly.”

The king began to write again. ~You were present during such barbaric acts?~

Lilya nodded shakily. “The royal family in Tritsia was captured during the war and were forced to witness many terrible things. Able-bodied countrymen were rounded up and executed en masse in a horrible show of power, even if they were just farmers or merchants. We were made to watch them all.”

All five attendants exchanged looks of horror.

~That must have been harrowing. How old were you when this happened?~

“It started when I was ten, after my father was killed, and carried on until Couliea claimed our land for themselves three years ago. I helped dig a fair number graves during that time.”

~How old are you now?~

“Nineteen, Your Majesty,” Lilya said.

Conversation died briefly, but after a moment, the king began to write again.

~Would you like to sit down?~

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Lilya said. Raba brought a chair for her and she took a seat. His Majesty waved his hand, and all five of the attendants bowed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Peridot winked at them as she exited.

~Are you not afraid of me?~ His Majesty asked.

“Not really, no,” Lilya replied. “After all that’s happened, I’m not afraid of very much anymore. Should I be scared?”

~This meeting marks three thousand, six hundred and sixty-two marriage interviews that I’ve conducted. You are the first and only woman who has seen me and not screamed, run, fainted, vomited, burst into hysterics, or begged me to let them go, fearful that I’d eat them or some other nonsense.~

“How awful. I couldn’t imagine someone treating you so cruelly. Why would they even come if they didn’t want to?”

~Pressure from their families. The political gain of a union with Banfarie would be a boon to any country on the continent. The appeal of that power and influence drives people to do things they don’t want to do. Either the women would cry hysterically and run away, or they would swallow their disgust and force themselves to conduct the interviews as if it were normal, all the while looking as if the idea of marrying me made them sick.~

“That was terribly rude of them,” Lilya replied, incensed.

His Majesty’s shoulders shook slightly, and Lilya thought he might be laughing.

~In all fairness to them, I am unusual and a little frightening.~

“That’s no excuse! So what if you’re a bit different? That’s no reason to make such a fuss. How would they like it if people acted that way around them? I know my feelings would be hurt. They should have been more considerate.”

His Majesty was completely still for a full minute. Lilya was beginning to wonder if he was alright, when he started to write again.

~You’re rather unusual, aren’t you?~

Lilya laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose so.” She looked at the paper and pen in his hand thoughtfully. “It must be difficult for you to communicate sometimes. I know most people of royal or noble birth are required to learn to read and write, but even in a prosperous nation like this one, many people are illiterate. Do you have trouble communicating with your staff?”

He moved his shoulders in such a way that it put Lilya in mind of someone shaking their head.

~No, since most of my staff are made up of fairies and spirits, my magic allows me to communicate telepathically with them. If needed, they can convey my thoughts to others.~

“Oh, I see! That’s how you spoke to Raba when the door was closed.”

~Yes.~

“Do you know any of the signing languages? Perhaps we could talk that way.”

His Majesty visibly perked up and began gesturing.

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I don’t know the signing languages, I just meant that I’d be willing to learn it so that we could communicate easier with each other.”

He stopped signing, but he didn’t seem disappointed. Rather the opposite, he seemed touched.

~You’d be willing to learn an entire language just to be able to talk to me?~

“Well, yes. After all, if you accept me, I’d also need to learn this country’s native language to talk to the citizens. Adding another language to my curriculum wouldn’t be so bad.” She leaned forward a little, and His Majesty leaned back, as if intimidated. “This may be an impertinent question and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but may I ask how you lost your head?”

~It’s alright. I removed it myself.~

Lilya looked both horrified and impressed. “Whatever for?”

He paused for a moment before writing again, and this time he wrote out an extended statement.

~I was the son of a concubine who died during my birth. Apparently, I resembled her very much and did not take after my father, the king, at all. The queen’s children, my half-siblings, bullied me relentlessly, often questioning the legitimacy of my birth and whether or not I was indeed my father’s son. They spread rumors about me and my mother, which eventually got back to my father. He also began to question my birthright and threatened to send me into exile. In anger, I somehow managed to pry off my own head and throw it into the Aurora. I think I’d meant to end my own life, but I survived somehow. When my father saw this display of my magical power, he reversed his position and put me first in line for the throne, even though he had four sons by the queen who were all older than me. I was crowned king the following year, and the year after, my father passed away.~

“How old where you when you became king?”

~Twenty-two.~

“How old are you now?”

~One hundred and sixty years old.~

Lilya’s eyes widened in shock.

~Does my age upset you?~

“No, not at all, it’s just…” She frowned in sympathy but fell silent. It must be lonely to have lived alone for so long, she thought to herself.

~I have not aged since I lost my head. I think the magic of the Aurora is what keeps me alive.~

“That’s incredible,” Lilya breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”

~My family has always been strange.~

Lilya chuckled a little. “How are you able to see and hear without a head?”

~Magic. It’s hard to explain to in simple terms, but I don’t see or hear in the same way as normal humans. It’s more of a perception of the wavelengths created by light, shadow, and sound by my whole body instead of my head. I can perceive those sensations similarly to true sight and hearing, but it’s not quite the same.~

“That’s fascinating,” She said, leaning closer. “May I ask you something else that might be a little personal?”

He seemed to laugh again. ~More so than you have already done? Please do.~

“You’ve only been conducting marriage interviews for the last sixty years, right? That means you had already been ruling for almost eighty years without a queen. Why did you suddenly start looking for a wife?”

~My attendants began to pressure me to marry and sire an heir.~

“Is that the only reason?”

~What other reason would there be?~

“Weren’t you lonely?”

His Majesty’s hands were motionless and he seemed to be thinking.

~Perhaps.~

Then he fell still again, as if he didn’t know what else to say.

Lilya smiled a little. “You don’t enjoy these interviews, do you, my Lord?”

He gave another shoulder-shake of laughter. ~No, not at all. I believe this may have been the longest conversation I’ve had with a human woman in my entire life.~

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said, holding a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I hope I haven’t bored you, my Lord.”

~Not in the slightest. This has been surprisingly pleasant.~

“Oh good,” She said, relieved.

~You’ve asked me a fair number of questions. May I ask you something in return?~

“Of course, My Lord.”

~What is one thing you wish for more than anything?~

Lilya looked out of the far window and thought about the question. She had never spent much time wishing for anything, knowing that wishes did little to affect reality. After all, she had wished for her father back numerous times, and for the terrible atrocities committed against her country to stop, and that had never happened. The only thing she really wished for was the safety of her people, but how could she achieve that?

“Walls,” She said suddenly.

~Walls?~

“The borders of my homeland have no defenses. People from outside the kingdom come in and steal food, destroy crops, take livestock, and even abduct people right out of the fields, and we have nothing to stop them. My land grows smaller every day because people just come in and take whatever they like, whenever they like. I wish we could do more to protect ourselves, but we have no military or security forces. Walls would be just as effective as guards, perhaps more so.”

You care very much about your home and people, at your own expense, it seems.

“Yes,” Lilya said, clutching the pendant on her neck. “I… I sold the tiara you sent to me so that I could feed the people affected by a famine on our southern border. It was a lovely gift and I was quite touched by it, Peridot even took this jewel off for me to keep,” She pulled it up to show him. “But… my people needed food more than I needed a crown. I hope you won’t be too disappointed in me, but… I didn’t want to lie or mislead you.”

~I see. He sat quietly, as if in thought. Very well. It will be done. I’ll have construction teams sent out to Tritsia right away.~

Lilya looked up in shock. “Wha… You’re Majesty! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

~I know you didn’t. It is my gift to you for your understanding and patience. This has been one of the most enjoyable mornings I’ve had in many years. That alone is worth giving you some peace of mind.~ 

He stood up and made for the door. Overwhelmed by his generosity and on the verge of tears, Lilya jumped out of her chair as his Majesty passed her.

“I’ll marry you!”

His Majesty stopped dead in his tracks and turned. He hadn’t brought the paper with him so he couldn’t respond, but he was rooted to the spot as if frozen.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me or my people. How could I possibly refuse?”

This spurred him to action. He walked briskly back to the desk and wrote on the notepad.

~I didn’t do it to buy your cooperation,~ He protested. ~It’s only a gift, nothing more. I expected for us to continue the interview after I made the arrangements. You don’t have to accept because you feel obligated to repay me.~

“No, that’s not it at all!” Lilya protested. “I don’t know what all those women saw when they looked at you, but it can’t be the same thing I see.”

~What is it that you see?~

She took a deep breath and attempt to gather her thoughts into a coherent fashion. “Maybe when they saw you, you reminded them of a storm that covered the sky at night, full of destructive power, and it made them afraid. But… all I can see when I look at you is what’s behind the storm.”

~Which is?~

“You’re the stars, not the storm. Your Majesty, you’re the light that shines when the storm passes.” She shook her head and laid it in her hands, unable to keep her overwhelmed tears from spilling. “Oh, I don’t even know if I’m making sense. But, Your Majesty, please believe me when I tell you that I don’t just want to marry you because I feel as if I’m in your debt, even though I most certainly am in your debt. I want to marry you because… I… I just do! I don’t even know how to explain it properly. I just… I would be happy to be your wife and honored to be your queen. If that’s what you want.”

~Wouldn’t you be happier marrying a normal man?~

“My Lord, I had no thoughts of marrying at all before I received your summons. If I did marry, it would most likely have been someone my family chose for me. With you, I get a choice. And I’ve chosen you.”

Slowly, he wrote, ~Are you sure?~

“Yes, I’m certain.”

~Then why are you crying?~

“Because I’m happy,” She replied, her voice shuddering as she laughed.

He held out his hand to her. ~You truly mean this? You’re accepting the proposal?~

“Yes,” She replied, taking his hand. “I’ll marry you right now if you want.”

He seemed to chuckle. ~It is enough that you said yes freely and without reservation. I am pleased.~

He turned toward the door, and it flew open after a moment, and all five of the attendants stood there with their mouths hanging open, staring at the pair holding hands. He must have told them the good news telepathically.

“Sire, congratulations!” Larima said. “It’s about time one of these women saw sense!”

“Larima, hold you’re tongue!” Aquamarine said, boxing one of his ears.

“His Majesty says that the wedding will have to be soon,” Raba told Lilya. “He regrets to have to rush it, but there is a political upheaval brewing to the west that he must take care of. He honestly hadn’t expected you to accept, so he hadn’t canceled his plans to intervene.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lilya said, grinning a little giddily. I can’t believe it! I’m really getting married! “I understand his Majesty must be terribly busy. I don’t mind if the wedding is soon. Oh!” She turned back to the king. “Can my family attend the wedding? I promised that I’d keep in touch with them, and I’d like them to meet you. Would that be alright?”

“He says that would be fine, except he’s worried that your family will not like him, which doesn’t normally bother him, but that it may cause trouble for you,” Raba said.

“It’s fine, I’ll explain everything to them. Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Lilya threw her arms around His Majesty’s waist, hugging him. He went completely still and his body tensed under hers, as if he were at the mercy of a pack of rabid dogs. Lilya, sensing his discomfort, released him immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep! I was just so excited that I acted without thinking.”

If a headless person could gulp, His Majesty would have done so. He straightened his lace collar and waved his hand.

“He says it’s alright, he was just startled,” Peridot said. “He also says that as his chosen queen, your word is equal to his. You may give any order you wish and the staff with follow it without hesitation.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

He bowed deeply in response, his arm across his chest as a show of respect.

Peridot clapped her hands eagerly. “Come now, princess! There’s much to do to get ready for the wedding and only a short amount of time to do it!”

The triplets led Lilya from the room, tittering happily. Once the door closed behind them, the king fell into a chair as if exhausted.

She’s like a whirlwind, He said to Raba and Larima. I am completely at her mercy.

“I’ve never seen you like this, My Lord,” Raba said. “She must have made one hell of a first impression.”

That is an understatement. Send a letter to her family inviting them to the wedding. It’ll make her happy to see them.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Larima said. “But… are you sure she’s the one? In all these years, after all those interviews, are you sure you’ve found your queen?”

It’s her; I knew it the moment I saw her, the second I heard her voice.

“The second she didn’t scream, you mean, sire?” Larima said. Raba flicked him in the forehead.

I’ve spent sixty years… no, much longer than that, looking for her. I’m not going to wait anymore. Begin preparations for the wedding immediately.

“Yes, My Lord.”

It took only a week for the preparations to be complete, seeing as the wedding would be a small affair. His Majesty said he would give Lilya any kind of wedding she wanted, no matter the expense, but she said all she wanted was for her family to be there and nothing else. All that was left now was to wait for Lilya’s family to arrive.

She hadn’t seen his Majesty since the interview, but she knew he had to have been incredibly busy. He was the monarch of a vast empire, after all, and he genuinely didn’t think he’d be getting married so soon.

A day before her family was due to arrive, a dress appeared in her quarters. It was gorgeous; a white, princess cut ball gown with a sheer layer of silk over the top painted with pink roses. The neckline was a low square-cut and it had half-sleeves with lace frills. On top of the mannequin holding it was a lace veil that trailed the ground and glittered as though it was woven from diamonds.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Lilya said. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, it’s your wedding gown,” Aquamarine said. “His Majesty had it sent down for a fitting.”

“It’s lovely,” She breathed, daring to reach out and touch the fabric, though it looked so delicate that it might disintegrate under her fingertips.

“Here, let us help you,” Garnet said, beginning to untie the laces.

Garnet, Aquarmarine, and Peridot assisted Lilya in putting the dress on. Though it fit like a glove around the waist, the skirt was just slightly too long. The sisters assured her it was a quick and easy fix.

That night, she was alone in her room looking at the dress, newly tailored and ready to be worn, and began to get anxious.

“What if I trip and tear it?” She fretted. “A dress like this couldn’t have been made in just a few days, no matter how many seamstresses worked on it; The lace on the train alone would have taken months to tat. It must be some kind of imperial heirloom. What would I do if I destroyed it? Would His Majesty be angry or cancel the wedding? What if he decides he doesn’t want a klutz for a wife?” Lilya scrubbed her face and sighed forcefully. “I need some air.”

She went to the long gable windows and unlatched one side, letting it swing open. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the aroma of the nearby gardens was soothing.

As she was about to close the window again, a wild gust of wind rushed in and caught up the veil, blowing it out of the window.

“No!” Lilya yelled, throwing her foot out of the window and jumping to the ground. It was a good thing her room was on the ground floor. She chased the veil across the lawn until it eventually got caught in the branches of a tree.

“Oh, come on!” She groused. The branched were too high for her to reach, so she was going to have to climb the tree in her nightgown to get it back. It didn’t help that there were no low branches for her to grab on, so she was basically going to have to shimmy up the trunk. How dignified.

“Okay,” She said, taking a breath before she started up. One foot, one hand, over and over. It seemed to take ages, and when she looked down, it was as if she hadn’t moved at all. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have stopped working in the stables. I have no core strength anymore.”

She was nearly at the lower-most branch when her foot slipped and she lost her grip, falling from the tree. She expected to hit the ground pretty hard, but she fell onto something soft. Looking around, she realized to her horror that His Majesty,  was on his back underneath her, having broken her fall. He was dressed in a casual white buttoned-up shirt and simple black slacks, likely his sleepwear.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She said, scrambling to get off of him. “Are you alright?”

He pulled out a small pad of paper from the inside of his shirt and a fountain pen.

~I’m fine. Are you alright? Why were you climbing a tree at this hour?~

“My veil,” She replied, pointing at the branches. “It flew out of the window. I was trying to get it back down.”

~Why didn’t you call the sisters?~

She laughed a little self-consciously. “I panicked. I was scared that I’d tear it and you’d be upset with me.”

~I wouldn’t be upset over such a trivial thing. It’s just a piece of fabric.~

“How did you know I was out here?”

~I saw you from the window of my suite. I was worried you would hurt yourself or that you were running away.~

She was a little alarmed. “Were you chasing me down to bring me back?”

~No, I was going to watch over you until you got somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re free to change your mind at any time. I wouldn’t hold that against you.~

“Oh,” She said, surprised. “Your Majesty, I have no intention on going back on my decision. I meant it when I said I’m happy to be your bride. You feel the same, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and easily reached the branch with the veil. He was quite a bit taller than she was. Pulling it down carefully, he folded it and handed it back to her.

“Sorry to have caused you trouble,” She said, worried by his silence. “I’m afraid you’re bride-to-be is a little clumsy.”

~It’s nothing. Let’s go back.~ He held out his hand for her to stand up, and she took it, feeling sad.

He doesn’t want to marry me, She thought. He’s just doing it because I’m the only one who didn’t refuse him. I like him very much, but he doesn’t feel anything for me. That’s not fair to him.

The triplets met them back at the castle and escorted her back to her room. His Majesty left her in their care with a bow and went back to his quarters.

“Just call us next time, My Lady!” Garnet said. “His Majesty would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

“He might be inconvenienced, but I think devastated might be too strong a word,” She said. “He doesn’t even really want to marry me, he just thinks he has to.”

Peridot scoffed. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m just the only person who accepted. I’ve only seen him once since the marriage interview, and that’s because he was rescuing me from a fall. He doesn’t really want to be with me.”

“My Lady, that’s absurd, of course he wants to marry you!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Look,” Aquamarine said as they reached her room. She opened the door and lay the veil back on the mannequin with the dress. “You see this? Where do you think it came from?”

“It’s an heirloom, right? Something that’s been in the royal family forever? It couldn’t have been made just for me, there wasn’t enough time for that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Garnet said. “His Majesty himself made this gown for you.”

“He did?” Lilya exclaimed, looking more carefully at the gown.

“Yes, with his magic. Do you know what he said to us when we were waiting outside of the office door after you agreed to marry him?”

“What?”

“’She said yes!’ he said. Every interview before always ended the same. He would tell us, ‘I don’t like her’ or ‘she’s lying’ or ‘she looks like she’s going to pass out, take her back to her room and let her go home’ or ‘why do they keep sending these women with dirty souls to me?’ He always sounded so dejected. But when you accepted, he was so excited. I’ve never heard him sound so happy.”

“Miss Lilya, you must understand,” Peridot said. “His Majesty’s mother died when he was born, and he was raised by nurses. In truth, he grew up never knowing the love of another person. Now as a man, he has no idea how to express affection for others. Until now, it’s never come up as a problem, but he sincerely wants you to be happy.” She pointed at the dress as an example, and then to the pad of paper on her desk. “You see those notebooks?”

“Yes?”

“Ordinarily, those would only be in one place: and His Majesty’s office, since that is the only place His Majesty meets with people who can’t hear him telepathically. But now, every single room in the castle has a notebook, just in case you’d like to talk to him. He’s doing everything he knows how to do to make it comfortable and easy for you, he’s just operating outside of his, admittedly, vast expertise. Give him some time. He’s very intelligent, if a little dense and insensitive. He’ll learn.”

Lilya smiled softly, touched. “I had no idea.” She pulled the sisters in for a hug. “You’re right, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. His Majesty and I don’t know each other well, for all that we’ll be married in a few days. I think when he gets back from the diplomatic trip, we should spend time rectifying that.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Aquamarine said.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[asahipleaseloveme]

I Could Have Dance All Night ~ Nishinoya

Nishinoya x reader

Warnings: None; let me know if I missed something, please.

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this! I really enjoyed writing it. Feedback is appreciated :)

Tagging: @goldenshoyo

Based on "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady

Bed! Bed! I couldn't go to bed My head's too light to try to set it down

I could have danced all night And still have begged for more I could have spread my wings And done a thousand things

You had sworn after the last time you went to a club with your friend that you would never go again. The last encounter you had was less than ideal. The man had no rhythm and no game, to be frank. He had gotten so sloshed that he spilled not one, but two drinks all over you and found it funny. He even had the audacity to ask for your number and when you two could meet again. “Hard pass,” you told him with ice in your voice. He shrugged and went to find another victim of his antics.

And yet, here you were again. Maybe hoping that this time would be different and praying you would not bump into that man again.

“C’mon ______, this time will be different. I promise! Just loosen up and keep an open mind. If you see that idiot, you can just avoid him, ya know?” Your friend was always able to keep a positive attitude and it’s the reason why you agreed to come with her to this place again, despite your worries.

Standing at the bar sipping on your favorite cocktail, you scoped the dance floor. There looked to be a few potential people out there. Until you saw him. He was like a firecracker. Chaotic, but so beautiful. He clearly knew what he was doing. You couldn’t help but to gawk at him.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered to yourself.

It was almost as if he heard you, because he looked you right in your eyes. Your eyes locked and you felt an immediate connection. When he didn’t break the contact, you could feel your face turn red. You were the first to break your eyes away. You had turned back to the bar to set your empty drink down. You were trying to wave the bartender down, when you felt a hand brush against your shoulder and a raspy voice call out.

“Hey, I saw you from the dance floor. What’re you doing over here by yourself? Come dance with me!”

You turned to see that it was the man you had been staring at. He was even more handsome up close. You both shared the same eye level. After last time, you said you would not do this again, but something about him seemed so genuine. He held his hand out, waiting for yours. Your hand seemed to move of it’s own free will and you found yourself being dragged out onto the dance floor.

Right as you were in the middle, one of the more popular songs came on and the dance floor seemed to be more crowded than it was just a few moments ago. People were bumping up against you and you were starting to get a little flustered.

“Hey, just keep your eyes on me,” the man said with a seriousness on his face. “I won’t let you get lost in the crowd.”

He pulled your body into his. He was smooth and kept with the tempo of the song perfectly. His swagger was starting to rub off onto you, because you began keeping time with the song. Your bodies were syncing up perfectly.

You were at this for hours. You and him were laughing and giving each other endearing glances.

It was the last song of the night and you two were sorry that you had to be parted. Your friend had managed to (finally) find you.

“_____, I’ve been looking for you!” She shouted as she grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the club.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nishinoya was on cloud 9. He got back to his apartment and just had to tell his roommate all about this magical encounter.

He swung open the door of his roommate and flipped the light switch.

“Asahi! Wake up, man. I have to tell you about this girl I met at the club tonight!”

Asahi grumbled and turned to face his friend.

“Noya, can’t this wait until the morning, dude. What time is it?” He looked at the clock.

“It’s 3:45 am, dude, it’s technically the morning. But I promise you can go back to sleep after I tell you about her. She was so beautiful, man. I can’t describe it. We locked eyes and I could feel an immediate connection. She could dance, too! It’s like our bodies were meant to dance together.”

“That’s great. Now, please shut up and go to bed,” Asahi said in a low tone.

“Oh, but I can’t Asahi! I just wanted to keep dancing with her!” He was pacing back and forth as he spoke. “I don’t know, man. I’ve danced with other girls before, but this one was different. She had rhythm and we flowed so well together. I felt like I could do anything. I just-”

A pillow hit him square in the face before he could finish what he was about to say.

“If you really liked her so much, then just call her tomorrow, dude. I’m sure if you feel this way about her, she could feel the same way too. Just please, get some sleep and call her tomorrow,” the tired roommate pleaded.

Nishinoya clutched the pillow, a wave of sadness flooded over him.

“OH MY GOD. Asahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, I forgot to get her phone number!” Tears started to roll down his face. “I never even caught her name. And I never gave her mine! How could I be so stupid, oh my god!”

“Noya, please calm it down. Just go back to the club tomorrow or next week or something. I’m sure she’ll be there again. Now, please. Please. Go to bed,” Asahi said, placing his other pillow over his head in hopes to drown out the cries of his disheartened roommate.

“I can’t just go to bed and forget the atrocity that I’ve just commited, Asahi. I’ve just blown the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Agh!” He let out a frustrated sigh.

“Wait, I know. I’ll just go back to the club tomorrow! Maybe she’ll be there again!” Nishinoya shouted like he just came up with the best idea.

“Sounds great, Noya. Now is it time for you to get out?” Asahi was more than ready for his friend to get out and let him sleep.

“But what if she doesn’t go back tomorrow, what will I do? How am I supposed to find her? What can I do?”

Asahi sighed and finally got up to escort Noya to the living room. Nishinoya continued blabbering on about what he would do if he never saw you again.

“You said it yourself, man. Just go back to the club tomorrow night. I’m sure you two will dance the night away again,” Asahi tried to reassure his friend.

Nishinoya looked at his roommate with puppy dog eyes. “Do you really think so, Asahi?”

“Yes. You danced all night tonight. I’m sure you could dance all night, every night with this girl.”

A smile replaced the frown upon Noya’s face. Asahi always understood him.

“Just don’t forget to get her name and number next time, dummy.”

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 15

15/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Anasazi/The Blessing Way | T | 5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

----------------------------------------------

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven. 

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again. 

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon? 

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part. 

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows. 

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his. 

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling. 

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes. 

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

--------------------

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight. 

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress. 

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination.  The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests. 

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans. 

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on. 

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior;  a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…” 

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?” 

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

-------------------------

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place. 

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye. 

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this. 

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters. 

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of. 

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.” 

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts. 

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue. 

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement. 

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share. 

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans. 

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

--------------------

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily. 

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart. 

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms. 

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain. 

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief. 

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them. 

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth. 

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail. 

--------------------------

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him. 

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life. 

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space. 

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory. 

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him. 

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say. 

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

[silvadraconis]

Choking Fears

A one shot between Silva and Dantes, and about avoiding nightmares

(Tagging @panyum )

"Accomplice" A short call as a figure rises up out of the shadows at their feet "Ah. he's looking for me. right" Dantes only ever called Silva Accomplice, they were both his master, but the name of Accomplice was given to Silva alone Just as she was the only one allowed to call him Edmond Her and Guada swap places, having retired to their room after a bout of training in the sim. She takes a bit of a breath and faces the aforementioned Count who's looking at her with an impassive gaze She gives a bit of a sheepish wave "Hello, you called for me?" she had a feeling she knew what this was about, though she hoped she was wrong

A subtle shift of his form as he fully comes out of the shadows, before taking a seat in a chair and crossing his legs "May I ask where you've been lately?" "Oh crap, this is not about the training, fuckkk" she had assumed he was here to chastise her and Guada for being reckless in the sim today, tackling enemies on their own as Silva gave Guada advice But turns out she was quite wrong on that account She gives him a confused look that's almost perfectly done "What do you mean, I'm kinda stuck to Guada I'm usually not too far away" she chuckles a bit He gives her a knowing look "You know very well that's not what I meant. You haven't been sleeping lately, and even I can't seem to track you down, where have you been going?" He'd never admit it, but it bothered him that she was harder to find than Guada when she decided to go wandering off, something about the way her soul was tied to his other masters that made things difficult. Not that he was that worried about her in the grand scheme of things(he lied to himself). He knew she was fully capable as she continued to remind him She huffs a sigh and sits on the bed, looking so very different in posture from Guada despite it being the same body. At least he never had any issues in telling them apart like that, they were both so very distinctive in the way they moved and acted. "Edmond, I don't exactly need to sleep, and I'm a ghost, I'm fine I assure you" He narrows his eyes at her a bit She's deflecting, as she often tries to do when he confronts her at first with these sorts of things, convinced she's some sort of burden still He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and regarding her with a piercing gaze that causes her to shift slightly "Hmph, and how many times have we talked about how despite being a ghost rest is needed?" She rubs the back of her neck, a tic that gives her away despite her trying to deflect "I mean, yes, but-" He asks her bluntly "How bad have they been as of late? They must be hounding you quite severely to cause you to avoid sleep to such a degree" He's seen the horrid nightmares that plague her mind, the terrible memories that filled his blackened rage filled heart to the brim with hate for those who did this to her If it wasn't for the fact that the world was currently burnt to ash, he'd have already done something about the people responsible for such atrocities She stills, going into that unnatural silence as a reflex. He waits patiently for her to answer, knowing that pressing her is not the way to get her to talk usually After a few moment she finds her speaking voice again and answers quietly "It's not those ones that are, bad recently." she looks to the ground in embarrassment Ah. that would explain why she'd been avoiding him in particular then. He sighs a bit "Silva, it matters not the hell I drag you out of, I promised you I'd come when you called. You're my accomplice, and I won't abandon you in any hell, be they real or ones of your own making" She rubs the back of her neck again, curling in on herself a bit "Edmond I, it's not fair to you though. I'm constantly having nightmares as it is, and those one are…" "Are what? Nothing more than shadows and fabricated hells, you've made it through them before, and I would never leave you to traverse such hells alone, be they real or imagined" She looks at him now, brown eyes piercing straight back "I know you won't! That's what I mean! You deserve rest too! You're constantly saving me from my nightmares, and those ones in particular are so hard to drag me out of, it's not right!" His eyes flash back with some of that rage, not at her but at her situation "Are you saying it's right then to let you deal with them alone? We're partners Silva. No one deserves to face such hells alone" She rubs her arms and looks at the ground Finally some of her walls are starting to crack, and he can feel her through the bond again Worry, care, concern, and behind it all, the sticky cloying feeling of fear coating everything Suddenly he there instead of the chair, sitting behind her, and wrapping her in his cloak

For reasons that he initially couldn't fathom, she felt safe with him, despite who and what he was. He's seen his masters charge at wild manticors and spriggans, face down impossible odds without so much as a trickle of fear, and if there was they pushed past it just the same. But this cloying fear was stopping his Accomplice in her tracks, preventing her from resting, from relying on him like she used to She starts in surprise at him suddenly being behind her "Edmond! Hey what are you doing?! I'm fine its just-" Her voice dies in her throat as he looks at her, with eyes demanding honesty and a soft smile He chuckles a bit "Kuhaha, you know Accomplice, your stubbornness is as much a virtue as it is a detriment sometimes. But you know that I too share in the same determination. So what is it that has you so fearful? What is it that keeps you from calling out to me and resting like you should?" He suspects the answer already, but he wants to hear it from her. If she truly wanted to keep hiding it he wouldn't press her She looks to the ground again, avoiding his gaze Her will is crumbling though as he holds her steadfast, and finally after a long moment she sighs "It terrifies me, those nightmares. Moreso than the regular ones, there's something about that place that, clings to me" She shivers a bit in his grip, and he tightens his hold on her "I get, worried, that...maybe this time will be the time I wont find my way out" He tilts her head with his hand gently, getting her to look at him "My beloved Accomplice, are you saying you don't trust me to find you?" "N-no that's not! Shadow I'm not saying-" she tries to backpedal but fails to do so He smiles, his sharp teeth glinting as he looks at her "Kuhaha, then surely there is nothing to fear? There is nothing wrong with being afraid, but allowing such fear to consume you helps nothing. Nomatter what prison your soul falls into my Accomplice, I swear I will find you. Do you trust me to find you? Do you trust in me to wait for me?" She sighs and leans into him "Of course I do Edmond but, that's part of the problem. You help me so much, I want you to get some rest too" He sighs and pulls off his hat, plopping it on her head "Hmph, well, I'd certainly be getting more rest if I wasn't concerned with finding where exactly you go off too, even Robin Hood couldn't find you these past few nights." He had gone to Robin when he failed to find her, him seeming to have a knack at tracking her down, but even he had been coming up empty handed "Ah. That, I-" she flushes a bit in embarrassment, not having considered that fact at all He chuckles again, sensing that he had swiftly flattened her arguments in one fell blow "Kuhaha, so, will you stop hiding away now? Else I'll be forced to bring in reinforcements, including a certain detective, as much as I am loath to give him the satisfaction of solving this mystery" She blanches at that a bit. She knows damn well Sherlock could sus out where she went, cause of freakin course he could She tries to rally herself and offers a counter argument "What if I just tell you where I am? That'd solve both problems yeah?" He looks at her flatly "No. You need rest. Would you prefer I go and find Hektor to get him to convince you along with me?" She looks at him in protest "Hey! Now you're just trying to gang up on me!" "Kuhahaha, if it takes an army to force your stubbornness to listen than an army I shall raise my Accomplice" He tightens his hold on her, looking at her with a smile and eyes full of that determined gleam She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder "Fine, I surrender. But only cause you and everyone else in this damned Chaldea are stubborn as hell too" He chuckles "As I expected from my beloved Accomplice, you know how to pick your battles. Now then, where is it that you're going off to?" She gets a cheeky grin of her own "Nuh uh, that's my secret to keep, I'll rest don't worry. But I'm keeping my hidey hold for future use" He frowns as he looks at her, then sighs, realizing that while he may have won this battle he may have lost the war on this one She chuckles in victory and he looks at her with a wide grin, his eyes getting the slightest trickle of flames "Kuhahah! So be it then my Accomplice! Next time you decide to use such a place I'll find you even then!" She grins and laughs with him "We'll just have to see won't we my Shadow?" He grins widely and plucks his hat off of her head, putting it back on "Kuhaha, see we shall. There's not a prison or place I cannot break into. I have followed you into the depths of hell and the void itself, I will surely find you next time!"

[kae-karo]

"how will you survive" and kaeya!

i am so sorry this prompted SO much angst asdkljsdjklfjkls (send me one of these prompts and a genshin character!)

--

hands of fate - T - 2k

tags: zhongli & kaeya enemies to allies, introspection, mentions of killing but nobody dies, lots of guilt, lil bit of tartali mention

[read on ao3]

--

In all his time on Teyvat since that dark night, Zhongli has not encountered a descendant of Khaenri’ah. Perhaps fate skewed heavily in his favor, or perhaps fate is not so kind a force to give him that reprieve when it intends only to return for him, to bring him to his knees.

He wishes - and perhaps it is a naive, belated thing to wish - that he had ventured a little farther from the borders of Liyue before today. That he had happened upon the famed winery some ten or so years ago, that he’d encountered the child of Khaenri’ah that stands before him now.

That bares his teeth in a smirk that does not feel lighthearted. And could not be, he chides himself - a child of Khaenri’ah, one that grew up in its festering remains, that was taught the truth about the archons. A child steeped in resentment - how could he be anything but burdened?

Zhongli cannot blame him.

“You were there,” he says, too casual. Kaeya, a Khaenri’ahn name. Zhongli dips his head.

“I was.”

“And you did nothing.” Not a question.

“I was bound by my gnosis.” An excuse. Behind his eyes, Khaenri’ah burns, a destruction wrought upon thousands of innocent people for the act of few, and still an act that did not warrant such merciless slaughter. Zhongli does not deserve excuses.

“You chose your path,” Kaeya says, as cool as the ice he’s used to freeze Zhongli here, on his knees. He could break free, of course. Kaeya does not hold the same power that he does - but is it fair of him to deny fate? To deny Kaeya what he so very righteously deserves?

Perhaps his contract was never with the Tsaritsa. Never something so small, so minute in the face of the hands of fate. Perhaps his contract has always been far larger than that, far more sinister. Far more binding than a gnosis, than the promise of the powers of Celestia at his fingertips.

Cool metal tips Zhongli’s chin up, and he lifts his gaze to meet Kaeya’s - one blue eye, one black, entirely corrupted by the Abyss that has long since consumed Khaenri’ah. Would he be anything different, if Zhongli had found him? How many times can he shift the hands of fate to his bidding, to his selfish desires?

Never enough, he knows. They will always find a way back to him.

“I should kill you for what you did.” He sounds bored as he speaks, and Zhongli wants to know, rather suddenly: is his emotionless tone borne from years of coping with that anger, that hatred for the gods who abandoned him? Or is it borne of something deeper, something far more sinister?

Would it matter, in the end? If there was a time that Zhongli might’ve stepped outside Liyue’s borders, that he might’ve happened upon Kaeya living in Mondstadt, could he have changed this outcome?

Would he have? It is not in his nature to involve himself heavily, even in Liyue. To do so in another archon’s territory would have certainly been a breach of well-established boundaries.

“I would not begrudge you that decision,” Zhongli says carefully, and holds Kaeya’s stare. Feels again the press of cool metal under his chin. It’s grown warmer over time, as the ice holding him captive begins to creep under his skin.

Kaeya huffs out a breath, lowers his sword.

“You’re certainly taking all the fun out of this,” he grumbles, more to himself than to Zhongli, and Zhongli tips his head. Thinks of Childe, and lets that spark warm his chest for a moment. Hopes a distant hope that Childe is safe, that he is not in danger at the moment. Or, rather, that he is in a danger he can handle, for Zhongli would never dare to underestimate him.

“I apologize.”

“Why?” A scoff, and Kaeya tips his head in Zhongli’s direction. “It’s far too late for an apology to make much of a difference. Won’t bring anyone back.”

“I am aware.” What he does not say: I watched thousands die at the hands of angry gods. Thousands of your people, and I stood aside and did nothing to stop it. Did not even fight the control that held me still, though it could not force me to partake in the slaughter.

Kaeya huffs out an irritated breath, and Zhongli inhales as much as the rigid ice will allow. He is no stranger to death, though he’s gone quite a while without its presence hovering nearby. And yet, he cannot blame Kaeya for this anger, for this hatred. How to mourn a culture torn from Teyvat before he’d even been born? How to grieve for thousands dead when he had not been there to see their slaughter?

Perhaps it was inevitable, the hands of fate guiding them to this moment. For Zhongli can grieve, can mourn in a way that Kaeya cannot, and Kaeya in a way that Zhongli cannot. Fate that drew them together, so that their sorrow might mean something more.

“I expected an eons-old god to beg for his life,” Kaeya adds aloud, but quieter. Less of this show he’s been putting on, and Zhongli sees the pain beneath the surface - the true pain, the kind of hurt he’s borne through his life, not the distant kind for people he never knew himself.

What a lonely existence, to be the last of one’s kind. To be set so thoroughly apart from all others, what a burden to bear. To find no home, to feel out of place even in the home built for oneself. Zhongli does not want to take away from the right that Kaeya has to experience his pain, but a part of Zhongli’s heart goes out, calls out for him to say that he understands.

That he feels the same, in so very many ways.

“I have lived a very long time, but I do not think the world would stop turning if I no longer walked Teyvat.” He chooses his words carefully, and does not think of broken contracts sworn to those he holds dearest.

I will see you again. A promise to Childe sworn in shared breaths under warm covers.

I will always protect you. Another, to Xiao, dear Xiao, his ever-vigilant yaksha.

It pains Zhongli to think that they might suffer for his absence, that they might grieve. The world may not cease its turning, but the ache in his heart for their sadness…

But they are not alone any longer - Zhongli has watched them find others to depend upon, others to share in their sorrows should something irreversible happen tonight. And he has been afforded an opportunity he might not otherwise see: to give Kaeya some peace, to bring a kind of amends to the very last of Khaenri’ah. It is not the worst way to leave the world behind.

“Well, that dulls the revenge aspect of this quite a bit, doesn’t it,” Kaeya says, quiet and- and rather lackluster, for all his earlier enthusiasm. Pain flickers through his features with each movement, cracks in the glacial ice of his expression, and Zhongli exhales slowly.

“You watched the destruction of an entire civilization,” Kaeya hisses under his breath, low and forceful, and Zhongli dips his head. Wonders at this repetition - is it for Zhongli, now, or for himself? Which of them does he wish to remind of the atrocities that Zhongli was complicit in?

“And there is nothing I will ever be able to do to atone for the pain I enabled.” He lets his eyes drift shut, sees the ruins of Khaenri’ah, hears the screams and wails and feels the tears that’d fallen unbidden from his eyes even as he stood utterly still, even as he did not fight to protect the innocent.

So very long...for so very long, Zhongli fought through the Archon war for a promised peace. Perhaps some might’ve called him soft for how his heart ached in those horrible, horrible hours of Khaenri’ah’s massacre. Perhaps he is not the rigid, unfeeling stone he once was.

His eyes flick open at the clattering of metal on wood, surprised to find Kaeya’s hand limp at his side, his sword at his feet. Surprised more to feel the drip of water against his skin, the gradual loosening of the ice’s hold on his body.

It melts away around him, and the weight of his body returns without the ice supporting it. The weight of his heart drags him further, though, and he slumps, bows over with the ache of it in his chest. His hands press into the wood, unfeeling for the ice that’d encased them. He sees blood that is not there, blood of thousands upon thousands, and does not feel the sick warmth of it.

“You can help.”

Kaeya’s voice is quiet, broken. Zhongli knows without asking what his words truly mean, what he requests of Zhongli.

“I am nothing in the face of Celestia,” he says quickly - not out of fear, but out of warning. He will not be the asset that Kaeya hopes him to be. “But if it will bring you peace-”

“It won’t.” Kaeya’s back remains turned, but his words cut through as sharply as his sword. When he finally faces Zhongli again, a bitter smile touches his lips. “But I have no one else left, and I would rather not die alone.”

Ah, a feeling that Zhongli knows well. And yet, he considers with a strange spark of amusement, he has not yet come face to face with his final end.

Inside his head, Childe grins at him. Demands another fight, for he is ever the insatiable warrior. Xiao dips his head to Zhongli, but never so low as that first time. When he lifts it, a smile touches the corner of his lips. Something like hope glows in Zhongli’s chest - if fate demands his life, he will fight it tooth and nail. Force it to give him one more chance to see those he loves so dearly.

“I owe you and your people far more than my life could repay-” This he knows with grave certainty. “But,” he adds as he stands - on shaking legs, with frozen limbs - “I have made promises I cannot break, and so I will fight with you against Celestia itself.”

Kaeya’s brows furrow minutely.

“You made me no such promise.” His tone speaks of caution, and Zhongli cannot blame him. He wonders, too, if Kaeya wishes to reach for his sword.

But he remains still, and Zhongli’s lip ticks up at the corner as he exhales a short breath - on another day, in another life, it might be amusement that sparks his reaction, but now, it is only a desperate kind of hope.

“No, but I promised others that I would return,” Kaeya’s brows lift, “and return I must, for what is a god of contracts if he cannot keep his word?”

“That’s rather bold, when you couldn’t manage to stand up to Celestia the last time,” Kaeya says with a quirked brow, now, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “What was it you just said? That you’re nothing in the face of Celestia?”

A bitter, stinging sort of dread worms its way through Zhongli’s chest. A fear he hasn’t felt in many years, fear that he might not escape this battle alive. Fear that he will leave Childe and Xiao behind with no warning. That he will break their hearts.

“How will you survive?” Kaeya asks, but his voice is not so harsh this time. His gaze looks distant, too, and Zhongli wonders if he is not as alone as he claims.

“I will do whatever it takes, as I presume you will.” He will rely on every tactic he has left untouched for eons, will fight bitterly and without remorse. Will be selfish for the sake of others - for Kaeya, for Khaenri’ah, and for Childe and Xiao. For his own heart, and for theirs.

Kaeya’s eyes narrow at him, and Zhongli holds his stare.

“Very well, god of contracts.” Kaeya extends a hand, and Zhongli reaches out in turn. Finds Kaeya’s palm warm in spite of the ice that he wields. “I believe we have a deal.”

[bnha-ra]

Lily of the Valley ||BNHA

A/N: HELLO LOVIES! IT’S YA GIRL, SKINNY PENIS- THE AUTHOR! If you guys are veterans of this account you know that this blog was birthed because I had a reader story on Quotev and guess what? IT’S GETTING A FUCKING COMEBACK! A REPRISE because I hated my writing on the original, oop not only a name change, but the lore has also (slightly) changed! So, I hope you enjoy!

Themes: Superheros (obviously), superpowers, fighting, romance, etc.

Summary: How it all began and then some

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter! Maybe some tension but that’s about it!

Tags: @prismaroyal​ @undead0relived​

It was the only thing ringing through her head as she curled deeper into herself, her face, earlier bruised and bloody but was now wet with fresh tears, was shoved into her knees and her shaking arms were wrapped weakly around her shaking legs. With each tremble of her already defeated body she seemed to only hug herself tighter, reducing what should have been ear piercing wails into silent sobs, way too spent to even scream about the atrocities she had seen and the things she had lost.

Life...wasn’t fair.

She understood that now. Those little words she had heard adults whisper under their breath with exhaustion or teens cry out in anger. Of course, she understood what the words meant, she was smart enough to realise much more than people bargained for, however, what she didn't understand was the meaning behind the phrase, why people would say it, why people thought it.

Well, until now.

Because they were right, life wasn’t fair.

It was much more crueler than anyone could ever imagine.

The shouting from earlier had stopped. Whoever was outside the hospital room had fallen silent a little bit ago. Either they were whispering now or they had just stopped altogether, it was finally quiet and she could finally suffer in peace, without the screams of adults promoting the painful squeeze of anguish from their choked cries or their weeping.

When the door opened she didn’t look up, no, she stayed in her position in the corner but withheld her crying as the person made it over to her side, sliding down the way to sit themselves next to her and sigh, their hand slowly winding into her hair to give it comforting strokes and tug her head to rest against them.

“Little Wildfire” The child flinched at the name, but raised her head, eyes catching the older man’s who held a incomprehensible grief but understanding sympathy to them “I have a question for you, sweetheart”

She nodded hesitantly.

The man cleared his throat, facing back to the closed door which she followed, finally spotting the other elderly woman who watched, eyes glossed in tears.

“Do you want to come with us-” He gave her a comforting squeeze when the girl sniffed, stuffing her head deeper into his side “-or, do you want to stay here?”

She glanced down at her lap “...will you be upset if I said I want to stay here?”

“No, mia bella bambina” The woman spoke this time, walking into the room and kneeling before her, taking the child’s hand in her own and kissing the skin of her palm “Never”

The lass glanced between the two adults, eyes slowly beginning to gloss over with no found tears as she let out a shaky sob, heart clenching “I don’t want to leave Mamma alone”

The two brought her into a hug, sharing heartbroken tears with the child while they sat on the hospital floor, filled with great grief in that moment. The people outside watched with a similar sadness, heads bowed in despair and chests aching at the scene. It was a painful moment, seeing a family so broken, seeing a child’s perfect life shattered so quickly as though it was glass.

Life really wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, (Name)....”

---

“Yagi!”

(Name) jumped in her spot from the stands, face snapping up to meet the choir teacher’s while the other girls giggled, muttering amongst themselves or sending dirty looks her way. It wasn't her fault that their teacher was still droning on about regionals, to her, it had stopped being relevant when the woman started to, once again, go off about the schools rival; (Name) didn’t care, the others didn’t care so why did the damn teacher still go off about it? 

‘Talk about obsessed’ She thought as she continued, finally getting to the end of her big speech.

“I expect you to be here at the same time next week!” The witch spat, “Dismissed!”

‘Jesus Christ- FINALLY’

The teen practically sprinted towards her belongings, running out of the room despite her teacher’s call and pulled out her phone from her blazer pocket, scrolling through the contacts until a familiar name popped up.

“Izuku!” She screamed into the receiver when he answered, feeling a guilty pang at her volume before quickly shaking it off “I’m so sorry! I had choir practice! Are you home yet? If not, we can go to that new hero cafe that’s opened recently! I’ll pay-”

During her sprint, flowers began to sprout from the ground beneath her due to the excitement rushing through her. She had been waiting for ages to finally take him there, Midoriya Izuku, her Quirkless best friend and the most obsessed fanboy she had the luck of knowing. Childhood friends, you see, glued together by youth and fondness for one another, something that she was thought she was so lucky for.

There was something else there too. A hidden desire, one that festered when she was still young, the obligation to protect him, to keep him from any harm that may have fallen upon him.

Ah, she was getting ahead of herself.

The joyful smile faded from her face, her steps slowing to a halt as she listened to him talk; a familiar feeling of sympathy blooming in her chest when she spoke again, glancing around the street that she had found herself.

“Where are you?....” She nodded when he responded “Okay, I’m nearby. Wait. There. I’ll be there soon and I want you to tell me what happened, no buts”

(Name) didn’t even give him a chance to respond, only ended the call with a tap and once again began her sprint, though, faster than she had before.

---

“....He really said that?”

Midoirya nodded into his knees, glancing over to his best friend from the corner of his eyes and flinching at the sight of anger spreading over her face. (Name) let out a shrill cry, jumping to her feet from the spot next to him and pacing before the other teen, face scrunched up in rage with words spewing out of her mouth faster than he could comprehend, well, almost.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he say that! You can’t say stuff like that to your fans- you have to consider their fucking feelings! I don’t care if he thinks it’s realistic- show some damn decency to people who respect you! The bastard-”

“(Name), it’s okay” Midoriya shrugged his shoulders, standing back to full height with hers and his own bags in his hands “It doesn’t matter, he was right anyway-”

“Don’t you say that, Midoriya!” (Name)’s hand was pointed towards him in warning, “You can be a hero if you try, there are heroes with weak Quirks so why can’t someone with no Quirk be a hero? Huh? HUH?”

“Well-I-”

“I AM HERE”

The voice came suddenly and loudly from behind the girl, the two teens jumping in surprise causing (Name) to twist round, both watching as a blur skidded to a stop before them and posed, revealing just the person that the female had so desperately wanted to exchange a few words with.

“All Might, how-” Midoriya had barely gotten the words out when (Name) spoke, eyes narrowed dangerously with poison dripping from her lips.

“You”

All Might had the gall to look confused “Me?”

“How dare you!” Midoriya screamed when (Name) raced towards the hero, her leg flying to meet his shin with vigor, only to howl in pain when it connected, hand coming to hold her wounded toes before she began to send punches his way instead, not caring in any way that the man was not affected, only watching in slight amusement as she continued her barrage of blows in her rageful state. “My friend deserves to be a hero more than you could ever understand! You bastard! How dare you say he can’t-!”

“Please, calm down, (Name)” The hero laughed, placing his hand against the girl’s head and pushing her back, (Name) still continuing to swing.

Midoriya stood in shocked silence, watching the scene with growing confusion.

‘How could All Might know (Name)’s name!?’

“Calm down? Calm down!? No! You are such an arsehole, Toshi! I expected better from you-”

‘TOSHI!? WHAT!?’

The greenette stuttered, trying to find his words as he continued to watch the scene before him. All Might eventually deflated with a huff, coughing blood into his hand while (Name) continued to shout at him, too clouded by her anger to realise Midoriya was walking up to her until a hand was placed on her shoulder and she spun, her glare vanishing with a gulp at her best friend’s befuddled gaze on her.

“Crap” (Name) muttered.

All Might just laughed.

“I think we owe young Midoriya an explanation, don’t we, (Name)?”

“Is something wrong, (Name)? You seem occupied”

The girl jumped from her spot behind the receptionist's desk, eyes snapping up to meet Dr Nakamura’s before a bright smile grew, though her hand came to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment from the scare.

“It’s nothing, sir! I’ve just been training a lot harder recently so I’m kinda tired, that’s all”

The older man nodded, his ears twitching in contemplation as he rifled through the chest of draws behind her, no doubt looking for a file.

It wasn’t a complete lie. While the U.A entrance exams were still ten months away, it didn’t mean she could slack off, no, she needed to get in as much training as she could before the trials, both going through physical exercise and mental. U.A was a school that only took the best of the best, just like Shiketsu and if she wanted even a chance at studying to become a great hero at any of the two she needed to up her game, because she was positive that if she wasn’t at her best, she would be beaten with no regarde.

However, that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

Dr Nakamura pulled one of the files, flipping through before turning back to the girl with a sharp toothed smile “Well, I wouldn’t expect less from one of our next future heroes”

(Name)’s face grew hot at the compliment and she laughed, “Thanks, sir”

“No problem, kid” His hand ruffled her locks playfully “Don’t overwork yourself, okay? If you need any breaks from work I’ll be sure to give them to you”

He walked away with a wave, entering into another room to leave her alone with her thoughts once again.

Truth be told, she was thinking back to a few days ago and the secret she had been swore to keep underwraps.

“Wait, so, just correct me if I’m wrong” Midoriya’s face was much calmer than (Name) expected, much much calmer. She honestly anticipated screaming, maybe faint if it were a worse kind of day, which from hearing about it, it sounded like it was, but instead, he was calm, eyes shining with curiosity and confusion.

“Ever since your mother was taken-....was comatosed…and your father….died” (Name) hugged herself at those words, trying to ignore the feeling of grief stabbing at her heart “You haven’t been living with relatives but...heroes…real life heroes?”

She nodded.

“That’s so cool!” (Name) looked at him with surprise plastered all over her face. Midoriya took her expression in a negative way, curling into himself with shame “I mean, you already lived with a pro hero before- b-but you’ve met some of the most powerful heroes in Japan! Counting All Might that means the world! Oh my Gosh, I mean- uh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that-”

(Name)’s voice was meek when she spoke again, eyes shining with unshed tears “I thought you would be upset….”

“H-huh!? Why!?”

“Because I never told you…”

Confusion took over his face once again and he tilted his head to the side, “Why would I be upset over you protecting yourself?”

(Name) choked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt” All Might’s hand landed softly on (Name)’s back, moving in soothing circles as he continued, eyes centered on Midoriya “But young Midoriya, your answer?”

“Oh! Right! Uh…” The greenette glanced between the two, both sending him back encouraging looks in return before he released a breath, expression adopting one of determination.

“I accept your power, All Might!”

The hero smiled “I knew you would”

“Oi, (Last)” For a second time that day, (Name) jumped in her seat, looking up to see two familiar boys staring back at her. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, Koji, Hitoshi, Hi!” (Name) began to type away at the computer before her, hoping to ignore the questioning stare from Koda and glare from Shinso when the purple haired boy rolled his eyes in exasperation “You guys finally catch those troublemakers running about?”

Shinso presented the box, (Name) standing to glance in from over the desk and smiling at the sight of the mother cat surrounded by her children before she gestured over to a room nearby.

“Ms Hamada came in a little earlier, why don’t you take them to her”

“Was planning to, but first we gotta show you something"

(Name) brows furrowed “What?”

Shinso nudged Koda softly, prompting the boy to set down his own box. His large hands disappeared into it before pulling back out with another small kitten in his hands who mewled softly towards (Name), pawing at the air.

“Guys, you’re not supposed to separate the young!” She chided, reaching out for the animal who was handed to her, (Name) rocking the animal gently in her grasp and staring pointedly at her friend who cowered back “You both should know better!”

“It’s not from the pack” Shinso responded, nodding to the other box “This was left outside and it’s a little….different”

“Different? How so-...” From her hands, a shifting sound caught her ears and she looked down, the kitten in her hands now replaced with an otter pup who cooed at her. 

“...huh”

---

U.A really was a wonder.

(Name) hadn’t really been there a lot, probably a handful of times as she aged, but she hadn’t properly experienced the feeling of excitement passing through the front gate, other examinees walking nearby, no doubt in the same boat as her, glancing around in amazement.

The school were the greatest pro heroes were born and trust her, she had proof of that in the contacts on her phone. She just hoped that all of her hard work during the months would work in her favour, that she would grab her place at this amazing school and she would begin her journey of becoming a great hero.

Just like her mother had been.

(Name) shook her head, hurrying her pace to the front steps of the school. The recommended students took their exams a month before the actual exam, she believed? Meaning she was alone, no Midoriya by her side to push her forward, to reassure her she was set. Although it was the same for him, if she did pass this exam of course, he would be alone too-

‘Ugh, get a hold on yourself-’ 

(Name) let out a yelp when she ran into someone’s back, apologies dropping from her mouth while the person turned, staring down at her.

He was a huge, mountain of a man with dark buzz cut hair and beady black eyes that seemed to glare straight back into her soul with a unyielding fire that made her gulp nervously and take a step back, her animal instincts clawing to kick in, screaming at her that she was no match for this predator, that she should run while she still could. Then he straightened up, his head flying downward until it smashed against the pavement, body bent over in a bow and practically screaming, gaining the attention of the other examinees.

“I’m so extremely sorry for getting in your way! I promise it won't happen again!”

“Hey, hey!” (Name) cried, hands flying up in a panic “You don’t need to apologise I bumped into you! I’m really sorry about that”

The boy snapped back up, his grin broad on his face and blood running from the small cut on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, you’re bleeding!” Without another though (Name) pulled out a packet of tissues she kept within her jacket, leaping up to tend to the wound, using the air to keep her stable just barely. She really needed more training on that. “Here you go, you should be more careful”

“Woah that’s amazing you’re floating! What’s your Quirk?! Is it like mine!?”

(Name) couldn’t help the laugh she let out “I don’t even know your Quirk, friend”

The boy beamed “It’s called Whirlwind! I can control wind currents and manipulate them however I want! Now you!”

(Name) dropped back down, hands landing on her hips with a smile “Well, my Quirk is called Nat-”

Remember, (Name), keep a low profile. No one can know who you really are, that means no using Nature outside of training.

“-I mean, Element! meaning I can control any kind of elements around me! So, kinda similar to yours”

“Wow, that’s so cool! I’m Yoarashi Inasa!” Yoarashi lent out his hand for her to take, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, Yoarashi, I’m Yagi (Name)”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yagi!”

“Please, call me (Name)!”

“Okay, (Name)! Call me Inasa!”

Seems like this exam won’t seem so bad afterall.

---

It was better than imagined. Yoarashi was a ball of sunshine, standing tall and bright, encouraging those around him despite knowing absolutely nothing of who they were. It was nice, especially due to the fact she didn’t have a lot of friends, having someone by her side inspire her to do better than she thought she could do. He believed her even though he didn’t know who she really was, he thought she was strong only after about an hour of knowing each other and it was...nice.

She really hoped he got the spot here, he deserved it.

The written exam had been an hour and fifteen minutes, all decent material and she was positive that she had passed it with flying colours and now it was time for the physical part of the test, then finally, the interview.

Present Mic’s booming voice was actually soothing to her, probably because of the time he spent after the atta- accident, helping to pull her out of the dark she had buried herself in. The hero was a rock in her life for a long time and she admired him for just as long. He sent her an encouraging wink at the beginning of it all, throwing an extra thumbs up her way before it had all started and she was grateful for it. It was nice that he was giving her extra support, even if he wasn’t really supposed to at that moment.

“Good luck, Inasa!” The giant smiled, throwing a thanks over his shoulder as he got in position for the race.

A sudden coldness surrounded her and (Name) shivered, blinking in surprise when it suddenly got darker.

“You’re in my way, move”

Now usually, (Name) wasn’t one to talk back, actually, she was kind of scared of talking back to people because who knew what they were capable of! But in that moment, those words had just made her angry, so angry in fact that she turned around to face the culprit of such a rude demand, hand poised in a point motion to jab them in the shoulder “Excuse me? Why don’t you watch your fucking tone....”

They stared back at each other in surprise, both sets of eyes wide with recognition.

“I don’t need your pity! Leave me alone!”

(Name) swallowed the heavy lump that was forming in her throat and blinked back the tears that dared try to blur her vision.

“S-Sorry Sho-...Todoroki” 

Then she walked back to her spot on the sidelines, wiping away the wetness from her face while Todoroki shook off the feelings that plagued him and took his spot in the race.

This was gonna be a long day.

---

Finally, finally, it was time for the interviews. 

Yoarashi had seemed tense after his race, eyes glaring pointedly towards Todoroki as though the smaller teen had stabbed him in the heart and left him for dead. It was kinda odd, especially with her new friend being a pillar of sunshine and greatness, like a giant puppy out to give everyone love, but he had ultimately relaxed when she appeared next to him, stroking his arm gently and asking if he was okay.

“Oh I’m fine!” He had replied, patting her on the head “You’re next right!? Come on, I know you’ll do great!”

(Name) ignored the stare on her back when he led her back to the other participants.

“Please enter”

A breath was released before the door was pushed open, a large office revealing itself to her with a familiar small rodent sitting behind a desk, smiling towards her and gesturing to shut the door. (Name) did, slowly of course, the chattering of other examinees disappearing along with the outside when she walked over, bowing politely in greeting.

“Principal Nedzu, it’s an honour to see you again, it’s been a while”

Nedzu bowed back in return.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Last). Please, take a seat”

(Name) did as she was told, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over her body at the sinking plush of the cushioned chair. The animal rifled through the many ID forms before landing on the one he needed, her own, and settling it to the top of the pile and smiling kindly towards her.

“Well, Miss (Last)” Nedzu started “Tell me a bit about yourself”

(Name) caught herself before she could say anything, wringing her hands on her lap “I-....what is there to say? You already know a lot about me, Nedzu”

The principal nodded in agreement before leaning forward, smile still as kind as ever “It is true that I know who you really are, what your Quirk is and much about your younger life. However, what I really want to know is why are you here today? What made you take the recommended entrance exam? Why, after what you’ve seen first hand, would you want to experience the life of a hero?”

Trust (Name) to know that curiosity. She still asked herself that everyday. Why, after experiencing such a traumatic tragedy would she still want to become a hero and face something that horrible, that life shattering every single day of her life?

(Last) (Name), why did you want to torture yourself for the rest of life?

“Simple” The girl started, eyes shining with a light that Nedzu had only seen with a few heroes in his lifetime.

 “I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did”

[joannalannister]

Anonymous asked:

Hey! It’s me again, your GOT secret Santa. Could you please elaborate on what aspects of the Tywin/Joanna ship you like? They’re not a ship I’ve ever written for, so I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why you like them so much. Anyways, I hope things are going great with you and that you’re getting ready for the holidays 😊

I love Tywin and Joanna because this ship is ASOIAF in its simplest form, stripped down to the bare bones, the meaning made plain. 

In my opinion, ASOIAF is different from a lot of other fantasy I’ve read because it doesn’t focus on a magic system, and it doesn’t focus on a great war (we still barely even know anything about the Others). 

ASOIAF is different; ASOIAF is about what makes us human. (Even GRRM’s term for the enemy, Other, comes back to this central theme of our humanity, because it suggests that humanity is fighting against something other than human beings, something un-human, something inhumane.) 

Tywin is one of the most un-human human beings in the entire series. He’s also the villain that we get the most information about, and he still looms large over the text even in death. (Even in the brief glimpses of TWOW that he’s shared, GRRM keeps bringing him up.) GRRM has shown us all of these monstrous things about Tywin, but in doing so, he’s made the tiny glowing embers of Tywin’s humanity burn like the beacons of Minas Tirith. 

It’s our joy and our love and our laughter that make us human. It’s our sorrow and our pain. But more than all that, our humanity is the connections we make to other people. It’s shared joy, shared love, shared laughter. Shared sorrow. Our compassion. To build a society is to connect people, to share with others. Tywin and Joanna is a society of two. 

(That weirwood net of shared consciousness fascinates me - it’s an idea GRRM has written about before in his other works, and he keeps coming back to it.)  

So those handful of smiles: for his wife, for the birth of his (first two) children, for his greatest accomplishments (gruesome as they are). 

And the pain in this passage: “when Aerys II announced Ser Jaime's appointment from the Iron Throne, his lordship went to one knee and thanked the king for the great honor shown to his house. Then, pleading illness, Lord Tywin asked the king's leave to retire as Hand.” 

And the utter and absolute pain in this one: “With her death, Grand Maester Pycelle observes, the joy went out of Tywin Lannister, yet still he persisted in his duty.” 

It’s like a shot glass filled with sorrow. In AGOT through ADWD, the sorrow in those books is slow; it’s (mostly) meant to be sipped, and savored. But the way we experience Tywin’s pain, as GRRM writes it, it’s quick and it burns, and it burns out just as quickly as we move on to Tywin’s next atrocity. 

So, for me at least, Tywin and Joanna are like a distilled version of ASOIAF. It’s the moments we share that make us human, and when Joanna died, Tywin’s humanity died with her. 

That might not be the most helpful thing for writing a fanfic, so let me give you some other reasons:

My favorite short story is “The Last Rung on the Ladder”. I think I first read it ~20 years ago, and it still haunts me. It hurts. It’s about a brother and sister. It’s about taking things for granted, about the people we depend on, and about what happens when those people are no longer there. 

“You're my big brother. I knew you'd take care of me.” “Oh, Kitty, you don't know how close it was.” [...] “No,” she said. “But I knew you were [...] there.”

Maybe this applies to Jaime and Cersei too, and Tywin/Joanna are just a different iteration, but it’s what keeps me coming back: what happens when the people you depend on ... the people you think are always going to be there ... what happens when those people -- those lifelines -- are gone? 

Despite Tywin being (imo) a very social person, I think Tywin had very few real friends. In addition to being his wife, Joanna was Tywin’s friend, someone he could talk to, and confide in, and trust. Someone who made it all real. Someone who made it worth it. 

And I think Tywin thought Joanna would always be there, the same way that everyone in AGOT-ASOS thought Tywin would always be there, “eternal as Casterly Rock”. I think Tywin always imagined that Joanna would outlive him, like it never occurred to him that she would die first, but instead she died when he was in his early 30s. That’s life-shattering to have the rug pulled out from under you like that.  

Similarly, I think Joanna had this idea that she and Tywin would be together, but instead he was “often away”. We’re told that they were children together at Casterly Rock, but then at ~10 Tywin was sent away to be Aegon V’s cupbearer, and later he went away to war on the Stepstones, and then after her wedding Joanna had to be sent away because of Aerys, and we have Tywin sent to Lys at some point. What did it mean to her, that Tywin wasn’t there? For Joanna, I don’t necessarily think that Tywin not being there was entirely a bad thing, at least eventually, although I imagine it was painful at first. I think these forced separations from Tywin allowed her to grow, allowed her to eventually rule the Westerlands in Tywin’s name while he was away. 

The thing that I always think of when I think about Tywin and Joanna is this poem, “Mrs. Beast” by Carol Ann Duffy, and I always think of this line, “Bring me the Beast for the night. Bring me the wine-cellar key. Let the less-loving one be me.” The more loving one is Tywin in my mind, no doubt about it. (I played with this poem for Tywin/Joanna here.) 

There’s this scene I imagine in my own fanfiction, about a year before Joanna’s death, where there’s these silent tears, this despair on Joanna’s face, and Jaime asks his mother why she’s crying, and she says, “Because your lord father is home.” 

I think Joanna always loved Tywin, to the very end, but Tywin is a difficult person to live with. I think his homecomings eventually became bittersweet. On the one hand, the love of her life has come home to her across hundreds of miles through snow, through bandits etc, but on the other hand, whenever Tywin comes home, Joanna has to take a back seat. Tywin sucks all of the oxygen out of the room. Everyone has to take a back seat to Tywin: “It has been hard for Kevan, living all his life in Tywin's shadow. It was hard for all my brothers. That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun.“

This is all kind of leading into another reason I like Tywin/Joanna in that it’s an exploration of gender roles, and the ... the limits that women are under in Westeros, even under the very best circumstances. With Joanna, she’s white, she’s filthy rich, she’s a top-tier noblewoman, she’s beautiful. Contrasted against Rhaella, Joanna has a husband who loves her so much that we get lines about Joanna ruling Tywin and how this man who never ever smiles smiled for her. But there are still limits. We’re told that Tywin was ruled at home by his lady wife. Joanna’s influence is restricted, it’s dependent on what power Tywin gives her. While Rhaella physically was confined to Maegor’s Holdfast, Joanna’s influence is confined to the domestic sphere. 

Westeros is a broken place, one that’s always been broken into little pieces (Seven Kingdoms, not one). Westeros breaks people. Like Mrs. Beast in the poem, I think Joanna was able to forget, for a time, about the world’s abused women. She was able to forget that Westeros breaks people, and that it especially breaks women. I think Joanna thought she was the exception, that she would have more, achieve more, do more ... and eventually I think she hits a wall, realizing that Tywin is her limiting factor, even as he lifts her up and grants her the power to do. 

It’s these limits that fascinate me about House Lannister as a whole. Like, the Lannisters are introduced to us as infinite. (Thinkin about this a lot lately.) Bottomless wealth, eternal life, unfathomable beauty, all I do is win win win. But over the course of the books GRRM knocks all of this down and shows us that there is a finite quality to House Lannister. Tywin dies. With Jaime, I think GRRM is exploring the limits of redemption imo. Cersei is going to hit a wall. It’s that the culture of House Lannister, their fundamental values -- they don’t work. 

Tywin is the poster boy of Westeros - he is the feudal system, he’s the face of its misogyny, he’s the walking embodiment of classism and income inequality and privilege and everything horrible about Westeros. 

I don’t think it was ever possible for Joanna to be dealt a winning hand with Tywin, The system is rigged against women, and a woman would have to break the system entirely to win. But Tywin is the system, so it just doesn’t work. 

I think of Joanna as a tragedy. 

um.

idunno if any of that is helpful, but i sure wrote a lot. Also, I really like power couples and courtly intrigue and stuff like the Borgias. Hopefully that helps a little bit, I’m so sorry. 

If you want to read other stuff I wrote, I collect my Tywin x Joanna writings under this tag:

#tjmeta

And these tags might also be useful: #joanna meta and #tywin meta

I’m so sorry, please know that I will absolutely love whatever you write! There are so few fics of Tywin/Joanna that I am excited for anything. 

(Also I hate Aerys and he can go fuck himself. I think that Tywin tried to see Joanna as a person, as much as a man in such a deeply misogynistic society can see a woman as a person. I think Aerys saw Joanna as a battlefield. Also I really hate the theory that Tyrion is Aerys’s. Really hate that.)

Ok, im sorry, ILU SANTA! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING BEING DONE WITH YOUR FINALS AND HAVING A BREAK!!! 

[dokuhebi]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / 50/50 (people either adore or hate them)

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / 50 /50 ( again it is either adoring or hating)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO

Are they underrated?  YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  I take canon in to consideration and incorporate it mostly. If there was something sloppily handled by canon, I either veto it or try spin it in another direction to make more sense. There was some fantastic writing in Naruto/Boruto and there was some very lazy half-assed writing. I adhere to canon up until a point.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  They are one of the most versatile and unique characters to ever grace the stage. There is nothing predictable about them other than their unpredictability. Through out the show, they have managed to remain this perfect ethereal paradox and enigma. Everything they do is a combination of being on both sides while also walking the line in the middle. You can not deem them merely ‘bad/evil’, you can not deem them merely ‘good/heroic’. You can not deny the way they are akin to an all knowing deity, but you can see the clear humanness in them too. Even the minor stuff, they will be wearing the most traditional kimono you have ever seen while tapping away at the most modern technologies the world hasn’t even invented yet. They can be the daintiest and most regal looking person, then shift in to the most fearsome monster. Let’s not even get started on their gender freedoms. They play all sides at their leisure and they do it well. They embrace every aspect of the world with this undying curiosity. They are so strictly ‘themself’ and untouched by any world/social standard, they just do not conform. Greatness and madness have never been harder to tell a part as it is with Orochimaru. They are complex in a manner that is so captivating, so very set on constructing pillars of individualism. And this is simply speaking on one aspect of their very intricate personality. It is not even touching on the feats they have made, as a shinobi, person, parent and scientist. Nor the unspoken story that is looked over, the abilities they possess, the fact that they have a hand in absolutely everything, and have formed part of nearly every group. Nor does it speak upon their ambitions and just how interesting those were to begin with.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  — The main and most obvious point of conflict is their crimes. Their freedoms can dabble in places that should come with clear lines and boundaries. So while it is a marvel to watch when their inquisitiveness and innocent decisions take form so wonderfully together, it is a horror show to see that inquisitiveness and maleficent combination rise up instead. A prime example being their human experimentation. They have committed countless atrocities that overstep the mere boundaries of shinobi warfare. While they may think killing in the name of science should be more excusable than killing in the pursuit of pointless war, they do manage to step on everyones toes by conducting their research on human beings. In the exact same fashion as the wars they fought in, they do not discriminate on who they kill/use by age either. That is highlighted the most by people who dislike them in the fandom, with ‘corrupting’ Sasuke as a close second. 

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  Orochimaru themself was the only inspiration. Everything about their character was appealing to me. I enjoy someone as versatile as them, and someone who challenges the worlds views. They are not always correct, and they can sometimes be too extreme, but they are truly fascinating to me. Often raising questions that need to be raised and setting the stage of some very unique interactions. They are truly fun to play around with from psychology, to abilities to personality.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  It’s still Oro being interesting to me, and a healthy combination of muns on here that bring out their characters with equal enthusiasm. Being able to meet wonderful people who delve in to their characters and bring out all the details from big to small really keeps the rp alive.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / 50/50 /NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  — Yes, I do. But only from those I feel have an understanding of the character too, and for so long as it is a valid critique and not one based on the other person wanting Oro to be a certain way. I live for the discussions about my muse, positive or negative feedback is most welcome. I want to do better, I want to write better, I want to ensure what is in my head is being reflected on to the page. However in this fandom there is a trend where people forget portrayals are unique and that is what makes it enjoyable. I won’t take criticism to heart if I can tell the other person is only trying to ‘change’ how I play my muse to better suit the needs of their muse. That happens frequently sadly. But valid, insightful, wise corrections? I appreciate those a great deal. It is still someone taking the time to view my work and evaluate it. I am not sensitive to criticism. 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  Oh yes please. I adore those questions. It really helps to explore my muse more and add to my headcanons and understanding of them. It is loved on this blog.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Sure! I accept readily if someone does not agree with my headcanon. We all have different takes. For so long as my views are still respected, I am happy to hear out why someone else is not favoring mine. In fact, it can help to continue to grow my muse and develop them further. To adjust the headcanon perhaps should it have been presented in a way I did not intend.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  simply put, we should not follow one another. There is nothing upsetting about someone not fancying my take on a character. It would be futile to remain mutuals or interact, since I am not changing my portrayal for someone elses preference, but there would be no bad blood.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  I just use the blacklist button liberally to be honest. Sadly, the hate Oro is often subject to is childish at best. It reflects no understanding, and drops them in the villain trash pile. I do not have much care for senseless hate of any character if I am honest. Mine or those who I do not rp.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  — Be my guest haha, Language has never been my forte in general. So I assume there are so many mix ups. More so than just grammar, I have this horrible habit of mixing words and phrases. My brain just hates computing stuff sometimes.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  I do not know if I am easy going, I have some hard lines I will not tolerate people crossing. I try to be easy going, and to keep myself in check however. I prefer to keep conflict to a minimum, so I will speak my piece in the most diplomatic manner possible. That said, I will speak my piece. I have never been the best at keeping my mouth shut if I feel wronged, or if I feel something may be headed down an undesired road. I will say what I feel needs to be said. I will however, ensure I am being fair, rational and objective to the best of my ability with any topic. I just want to know that there is common and mutual respect. If there isn’t, I will politely excuse myself from that narrative. There isn’t a great deal that can ruffle my feathers, I am naturally quite relaxed. But I am inclined to voice my opinion as diplomatically as possible if I am caught up in something I feel is unjust. 

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @shikkotsunin​ (thank you!) Tagging: @peepingtoad​ , @shattered-by-sparks​ , @fcrgiivn​ , @likexaxdoll​ , @shatteredxlookingxglass​ , @thatsneakymedic​ , @super-kame-love​ , @dobujutsu​ , @chidorikiller​ and you!

[excindrela]

12 Days of Demon Ayno- Day 7

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV / Female reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: foul language

Word Count: 2228

AU: Look we made it to day 7! (Only 10 days after Christmas) Today is fluffy, but there’s smut ahead in the forecast! To everyone reading this series- I’m so glad you’re here- thank you for reading ( especially to those who have re-blogged!). I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Interesting fact: Tenley, Katricia & Cassidy are people I actually know! I love giving irl people cameos! LOL

Demon Ayno: Summoned | Thanksgiving | 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

On the 7th Day of Christmas: Ayno Experienced the True Spirit of the Season 

You strolled out of the bedroom still brushing your hair to find Ayno in the kitchen making your breakfast as usual. He poured and doctored your coffee and turned around to hand it to you but stopped with eyes wide at your appearance. He slowly handed you the coffee cup, while looking you up and down. You knew he wanted to say something but was clearly having trouble deciding on exactly what to say. He opened his mouth, and then stopped and closed it- rethinking whatever it was that had come to mind. You waited. Finally, he seemed to have settled on a way to broach what he had decided was going to be a delicate subject.

“You know that I find you beautiful, right? Have I told you today that you are beautiful?”

You struggled to hide your amusement. “Not today, but you have often told me this, yes. I believe based on your record of that particular compliment you find me most attractive when I am flushed and sweaty and looking totally fucked-out laying underneath you.”

He grinned. “True!” Then he muttered under his breath “I am not sure even that would help right now.”

You struggled to keep your face neutral.  “Is there something wrong with the way I look today?”  you asked innocently.

“Um...I know you said we are going somewhere today…would you not be more comfortable in the soft sweater with the big neck? It is a good color on you and looks nice with your jeans….”

“Oh…do you not like this one?” you asked strolling over to the floor mirror and admiring yourself.

Ayno, rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, struggling to find something nice to say. “Well…it will be easy to keep track of you…”

Privately you thought he had done very well in finding anything good to say about the knit catastrophe that adorned the upper half of your body. It was made of cheap chunky cream yarn, the whole front covered with a Christmas present made from 4 different red calico prints appliqued on the front, and a giant gold glitter ribbon bow that sat at the shoulder. There were green holly leaves embroidered around the cuffs and on the center back just below the collar.

“Agreed!” you said, “but not as easy as it will be to keep track of you!” you giggled as you ran to the bedroom closet and returned with a larger sweater that made yours look positively tame. Ayno looked with utter horror at the nightmare conceived in polyester yarn you held in your hands. The bottom was knit to look like a rooftop, and the top 2/3 was supposed to be the night sky in royal blue with little silver metallic yarn stars sprinkled on it. The center of the front was dominated by an appliqued reindeer complete with a googly eye, sparkly red pom-pom nose and a harness with actual jingle bells.

“Oh. Yes. You will not lose me.” he said in a small voice.

“Yep! No chance of that! Check this out!” you said as you pushed the hidden button and the tiny lights on all the stars began blinking.

Temporarily robbed of speech by the twinkling atrocity he was expected to put on his body, poor Ayno just stood there, mouth hanging slightly open.

“That…that is very…special.” he finally choked out. Then, hoping for an out, he tried a different tack. “But I thought we agreed that it would be best not to call attention to me. Perhaps the lights…or the whole sweater…are too much? We do not want people to notice me.” he finished hopefully.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sad pathetic look on his face was too much, and you burst out laughing. “It’s awful right?! I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find something this bad in your size!!”

“Lucky? Uh-huh.” he said, looking very confused.

You needed to explain. “Ayno, today we’re volunteering with Project Reach Out. We’ll spend the morning sorting the food and present donations, wrapping presents for the kids, and preparing a meal. Then in the evening, we’re hosting a Christmas party, and families will come to eat and play games and then the children will pick a present, and we’ll send the families home with a box of food so they will be able to prepare a nice Christmas dinner. All the volunteers are wearing ugly Christmas sweaters today.”

“Oh! So we are supposed to look embarrassing? I will blend in wearing this?”

“Yep! And everyone will know you’re a volunteer.”

“So I am not being punished. Ok. I will trust your judgement” he said as he took the Rudolph sweater from you, “but I still think this should be condemned to the fires of hell.”

*          *          *

You arrived at the community center and went straight to the check in table. You waved happily to Tenley, Katricia and Cassidy who were already there.

“Whoa! That’s quite the bow there!” Tenley laughed.

You laughed “Its huge, right? Nice tree you’ve got.” You said, admiring her red sweater with a green Christmas tree knit into the front that was decorated with pom-poms, fake lights on thread, and plastic charms.

“Yeah, this tree’s gay green dress isn’t going to delight anyone. But check out Trish’s ghetto snowman.” Tenley said jerking her thumb in Katricia’s direction.

Katricia walked forward proudly gesturing at the snowman sweater that had seen better days. One button eye was thisclose to falling off, too many washings had caused the carrot nose to droop like a flaccid penis, one button on the mid-section was unironically totally different than the other two, and someone had attempted to fix one of the cross-stitched twig hands- but had used the wrong color of brown thread. “Yeah, I don’t know what kinda shit Frosty has seen, but I’m pretty sure he’s a crack hoe straight out the hood.” Katricia laughed.

You all laughed with her, shaking your head at the unfortunate sweater, when Cassidy caught sight of Ayno. “Oh damn. Girl, is that your boyfriend? What did you do to this poor man?!” she cried looking in awe at the awful sweater.

“Isn’t it hideous?!” you cried with glee.

“Yes. That is just terrible.” Katricia said hi-fiving you. “Where did you find that?”

“The Assistance League thrift store in The Heights!”

Poor Ayno stood there looking concerned: he couldn’t decide if he was being complimented or made fun of. You felt his fingers fumble for yours and you took his hand and squeezed it for reassurance. “Yes, the extremely good sport stuffed in the sweater from hell is my boyfriend, Ayno. Ayno, this is Tenley, Katricia and Cassidy.” The girls all smiled and shook hands with him, Cassidy mouthing “He’s so cute!” and Tenley fanning her face and mouthing “HOT!” when he was distracted by someone else.  

You had no sooner finished introductions when Jayden, who had gotten roped into coordinating the event this year, breezed over with nametags and clipboard in hand. “Ok ladies…and gentleman, what are we doing today?” she said as she handed out the name tags. “Ayno- we’ll start with you. Do you have a preference on what you’d like to do today?”

Ayno looked at you wide eyed and shrugged. “Ayno loves to cook Jay. He’s good in the kitchen- why don’t we put him there?” you suggested.

“Perfect! Ayno, I’m sending you and Trish to help sort canned goods for the take-home boxes, and then to the kitchen for dinner prep! You already know what you’re doing, right?” she said to you.

“I believe I’m sorting toys and wrapping presents?” you said.

“Yes ma’am!” Jayden said as she moved on with Ten and Cass in tow.

“You will not be with me?” Ayno asked nervously.

“No. But you’ll be fine, and you’ll be much happier in the kitchen.”

“But what if people talk to me? What do I say?”

“Well I’d advise not mentioning you’re a demon.” You said dryly. Ayno gave you a look. “You know what to say. My best advice is to deflect: you want to learn about humans- well lesson number one is that people love to talk about themselves. Just ask them questions.”

Ayno nodded, still looking a little unsure. “Ok.”

“Don’t worry- Katricia will be with you, and she is so much fun. I’m sure she’ll take good care of you”, you promised him.

“Mmmm-hmmm. Yes ma’am, Imma take gooood care of this fine man!” Katricia said looking Ayno up & down and winking at you. “C’mon Ayno, we are gonna go get biz-zee in the kitchen!” she said taking him by the arm and dragging him off.

And that was the last contact you had with Ayno for the next eight hours.  You saw him singing Christmas carols while happily sorting canned goods and carrying loaded dinner boxes to the area where fresh produce, dairy & a turkey would be added at pick up. Later you passed by the kitchen and saw him peeling a giant pile of potatoes listening intently to whatever the others doing prep were talking about. You almost dropped the cranberry sauce you were bringing around during the dinner when he snuck up behind you and kissed your cheek as he went on his way refilling coffee.  As you cleared dinner dishes, you saw him lifting little ones up to choose an ornament off the tree, and then later being taught how to play “Go Fish” by some elementary age kids.

It was while you were drying baking pans and putting them away in the kitchen that he came up to you waving an envelope.

“Look I won a prize? I do not know what it is...”, he said curiously looking at two pieces of paper inside.

You looked in the envelope, “Oh those are movie tickets! So you can go to the cinema to see a movie... and there is a coupon for popcorn and snacks too! What did you win a prize for?”

“Apparently others think my sweater is very, very bad too. It was bad enough to win the number 3 envelope. I did not think it was possible to wear a sweater that was worse than mine but apparently two people did. I think the number 1 envelope was given to the man who had the Demon of Sahjoolh coming out of a box on the front of his sweater... I am told it is actually a ‘jack in the box’ with a ‘clown’ -whatever that is- but it looks like the Demon of Sahjoolh. It was very frightening, and I could not figure out why anyone would want to make a sweater with the Demon of Sahjoolh on it, so I suppose he deserved to win just for being brave enough to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well, I have never seen the Demon of Sahjoolh, but that does sound frightening. Congratulations!”

His face suddenly brightened as a thought occurred to him. “I have two tickets! You could go with me to the cinema- I could take you on a date! Will you go to see a movie with me?”

You smiled, “Yes, Ayno, I would love to go to the movies with you…but right now, I want to go home, because my feet hurt.”

*          *          *

Later that night you sat in your usual position stretched out across the couch from Ayno. He was rubbing your sore feet while you watched whatever the insipid Hallmark movie of the day was. You were looking at him and you could see the wheels in his head turning.

“Our life is charmed, isn’t it?”, he said suddenly.

“What do you mean?”, you asked.

“Our home is nice- it is warm and safe…we always have hot water, and there is always food here- you do not ever seem concerned about getting food…your car is big and shiny and seems to work well... and when I want something you get it for me... you give me money every week and let me buy iced coffees without worry. The people today… it is not the same for them is it?”

You shook your head sadly, “No, it’s not. That’s why we do what we did today. To help them. To try to make things better. We helped lift some of their burdens for today: they knew they were going to have a hot dinner for themselves and their families, they knew their children were going to get a Christmas present and they knew that they were going to get food to prepare a nice dinner on Christmas. These are small things to you and me but very big ones to them. We don’t have these worries, so yes- we are privileged. We are lucky.”

He looked thoughtful. “We should do this again. Is this like Thanksgiving where it only happens once in a year? Do we have to wait for next Christmas?”

“Well, Christmas only happens once a year; but there are lots of opportunities to volunteer all year long.”

“Good. More of this then. I like small humans. We should do things for them.” He said as he crawled across the couch to lay his head on your chest.

“Good plan.” You said, wrapping your arms around him and silently marveling at the humanity of your demon.

[stevieang]

Life As You Know It

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader Insert, college AU

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: High school clique drama, implied bullying, mean girls, boy/girl best friends, vague reference to death if you look sideways and upside down

Tags:   @3dsaunt​  @andiyholly​  @averyrogers83​  @babybluesunsets​ @bettercallsabs​ @brittyevans​  @brookebarnes​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @cecygee​​   @csrfavs​​   @docharleythegeekqueen​​  @dorito-distractions​​  @everythingisoverrated​​  @fabicchi​​  @fandomliane​ @favhearts​​  @fictivefrolic​ @flawless-disaster​​  @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @hazeleyedgirl7​​   @hennessy0274-blog​​ @inumorph​​ @jaguars2007​​  @jaamesbbarnes​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​​  @janeyboo​​ @joshburtonhellzyess​  @jouhainak​​ @learisa​​ @lemurian-starship​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @lilylovescomics​​ @linesal​ @lojo83​   @lookwhatyoumademequeue​  @lostinspace33​  @madicardi​  @magellan-88​​   @mamapeterson​​   @marvellouslyaveragesblog​ @me-a-hopeless-romantic​​  @mentalfictionleftmyassbehind​ @meyoko10​​  @mindingmyownbusiness​​ @minesig​ @mizzzpink​​ @naritasamoosa​ @neverleturheartshow2​​  @nomadicpixel​​  @ohwhatamessiam​ @part-time-patronus​​ @patzammit​​ @pinkieandthebrain1​​ @redqueen1221​​ @sebbytrash​ @sixweekcure4dreams​​  @sgtjbuccky​​  @sony-undead18​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​  @stark-spangled-banner-man​​  @st-eve-barnes​​ @stillherebiandabitch​​ @sunriserose1023​​ @suz-123​​ @the-real-kellymonster​​ @their-bibliophile​   @tutis24​​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @vinygurl​ @winterisakiller​ @winterismyfavoriteseason1945​​  @winters-beauty​​ @yaykitty3​​

Summary: You and Tony Stark were best friends, your mothers were best friends, and you were always there for each other.  You went to the same high school and attended college in the same town.  Maria Stark loved you like her own, and knew that, given the right amount of time and opportunity, more could develop between you and her son.  Would the two of you catch on?

A/N: Congratulations to @fanficfaerie for this follower milestone, it is so well deserved!  Thank you for creating and running this Disney Song and Quote Challenge, I am sure it is time consuming and taxing in ways I can’t imagine.  I appreciate the opportunity to participate, though I’m a tad nervous - I’ve never written Tony Stark before - hope this fits the bill!  

Quote: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Winnie the Pooh 

You were fuming.  The good-girl, goodie-two-shoes rep that you so carefully cultivated with your teachers had always served you well.  It was a complete act, but only your besties had any inkling.  Until today, when the meanest of mean girls in your private school learned that you were responsible for a social media post detailing her daily atrocities.  Your best friend Tony Stark helped you erase all traces of a digital fingerprint, but somehow, Christine found out and, after enlisting her parents’ help, had your ass hauled to the principal’s office. 

As you listened to the adults yelling, lecturing, and threatening, all you could think of was the scene in “The Incredibles” when Dash’s teacher was trying to convince the principal to suspend him for putting a tack on his chair, to no avail.  Except in your reality, there was no parent in the room to defend or punish you.  Your parents were divorced, your Dad living on the other side of the country and your Mom, a pharmaceutical sales rep for a national company, always on the road.  You had a good relationship with both your parents, but they were of the mind that the biggest part of their job was to instill solid moral character and independence from an early age.  When you turned 16 and started driving, your mom made good on her plan to prepare you for adulthood.  You had to complete all necessary home and school functions, maintain an acceptable GPA, incur no disciplinary problems, and communicate daily with her about the little and big things going on in your life.  In exchange, you could come and go as you pleased, and have run of the house when she traveled, which was more often than not.  Your living situation was the envy of the school.  You weren’t about to do anything to mess it up, but today, it seemed you were on the fast-track to doing just that.

As your mom was out of town, the person they called, your guardian in absentia, was your Mom’s best friend since childhood, Maria Stark.  Mrs. Stark was used to being called in to various offices of authority to answer for her son’s behavior, ego, or infractions.  Tony started building internal combustion engines when he was 6, so high school was something he could have skipped altogether, but was forced upon him by his mother, to “foster social skills,” and help him get the “traditional teenage experience.”  He was smarter than all his teachers and never let an opportunity pass where he could point that out.  It was never well received.  You two made a great “we don’t fit the mold and we love it” duo.  

“Explain to me again why we’re here, sir, because I am at a loss to understand what rule this young lady has broken.”   Maria was elegant, sophisticated and, in her own right, a very smart woman.  When she asked a question, most likely she knew the answer; she was simply gathering information to support her argument against the unlucky person sitting across from her.

“Mrs. Stark, this young lady used social media to smear and defame the reputation of another student.  As the school handbook states, this is grounds for detention and possibly suspension, as well as joint treatment sessions with the school counselor.”  You leapt out of your chair, full of righteous teenage anger, intent on storming out.  Maria’s hand on your arm and supportive gaze cooled your temper; she wasn’t going to let anyone steamroll you.

The next hour was spent determining what evidence, if any, conclusively linked you to the incident.  Turns out, there was none, other than the suspicion of parents who were mortified that their daughter’s abhorrent behavior was now out in the world for anyone to see.  You admitted to nothing, and though Christine’s face was chartreuse as the rapidly-growing Twitter feed was read aloud, there was nothing that pointed to you, other than the well-known fact that you hated the girl’s guts.  It was the tragically classic scenario of a beautiful popular girl collecting herdmates to make fun of and torture girls like you, someone who didn’t fit nicely in any round holes. You left with a week’s worth of detention for the bogus crime of “lack of adherence to the school’s honor code” and a promise to clear your name when they found out you were innocent.  After you filled him in, Tony shared your disbelief, and immediately started plotting.

You and he sat in the backseat while Maria drove home, spending the entire time texting with back and forth about ways to get even with the principal, to continue to make Christine’s life terrible, and to find out who suggested you were responsible.

“Hey, you two.  I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know it’s some kind of revenge plan.  I won’t have that, Tony.  I will not have you two digging yourself any deeper.”

Tony:  My mom knows it was you?

You: I never said a word, but she’s not dumb.

Tony: No she’s not, but do you want to tell her?

You: u think I should?

Tony: I would.

You: You would put up a billboard on the highway to announce you did it.  Not a great role model.

Tony: I’ll give you that.

“Ok, Mrs. Stark, no revenge.  I promise.”  You leaned forward to lay your hand on her shoulder.  “Thank you so much for being there today.  I’d probably be suspended if you hadn’t been.”

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sure.  Let’s forget all this and have some dinner, shall we?”

The Starks employed a chef, but when Mr. Stark was traveling, Maria often chose to cook.  Tony ate, but he preferred the company of metal and circuits to people, so he often brought his plate in his room.  When you joined them, he was required to come to the table, and Maria always prepared something you both loved to eat.  Tonight, it was vegetable and pasta salad with steak and potatoes, accompanied by calm and civilized conversation that focused on things other than what happened earlier in the day.  You appreciated not having to rehash the event, again, not being judged.  You looked at the mother and son sitting next to you and felt cared for, taken care of.  It was nice to not be a grown-up for once.

Tony’s thoughts were multiplying on how to get back at that little bitch Christine and her circle of hags.  He looked at you, his best friend, one of the few people in the world that cared about him without reservation or expectations.  He looked at you, the girl who stood by him at every step, every failure, every success, who encouraged his work, appreciated his failures, and called him out on his bullshit at every opportunity.  Senior year was in full swing and he knew he never wanted to be without you.  He also knew your insecurities and that made his heart bend even more, because he had them, too.

Maria looked at you and her son and smiled.  Your rapid-fire conversation was smart, witty, and, at times, vulgar, but with an undercurrent of true affection.  When she and her best friend delivered what would be their only children within a month of each other, they made a promise to remain a part of each other’s lives.  That promise had borne this friendship playing out at her dining room table.  Tony looked at you adoringly, and you returned it with a gaze full of laughter and spark, two things that were necessary if you were going to ever be more than friends.  Maria knew the ingredients for a great match were already there, all that was needed was time and opportunity, and there would be plenty of both.

Until there wasn’t.

After graduating from high school, you both attended college in Boston;  Tony blowing shit up at M.I.T. and you diving head-first into your double-major at Boston College.  He was famous before he arrived, but after? He was a magnet for all things flashy, fun, illegal, and new.  He was surrounded wherever he went; inundated with phone numbers, obvious invitations to a variety of one-night stands, and so much debauchery and alcohol that the head of campus security told the president of MIT, who then called the big man, Howard.  After the browbeating, the only change in his behavior was an improved ability to slide under the radar and avoid trouble.  You only found out on the increasingly-rare occasion you texted each other.

You lived in separate apartments, attended different schools, pursued different fields of study.  It was natural that you wouldn’t see each other as you once did.  You shied away from the big loud crowds that were Tony’s new normal, and he couldn’t understand why you enjoyed spending quiet time with friends that weren’t him.  The waning friendship hurt both of you, in ways the other didn’t recognize.  Tony sought out the company of an unceasing string of one-night stands and you finally decided to open your heart to guys whose names weren’t always in the paper.  Life went on, with a little less spark, less laughter, less heart.  The holidays were fast approaching, and this time, they felt different; and not in a good way.

Thanksgiving break was a quick one, spent catching up with family and marshalling your energy to push through finals.  For the first time in your memory, you did not want to go to the Stark’s home for the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving dinner, where everybody brought a dish of leftovers, the Stark’s added liquor and pizza, and you caught up for hours.  You tried to get out of it, but it was non-negotiable, from your mother’s perspective.  You planned on staying away from Tony, kissing Maria and Howard, and coming home with claims of a headache.  After the party, the Moms talked and compared notes about how glum their children became at the mention of the other’s name.  They each took it upon themselves to plant seeds that would ignite the feelings they knew you had for one another.  

“Hey, Stark’s here for you.”  You were on your bed, hair up, pencil through the elastic, piles of books and your laptop spread out everywhere.  The sigh that escaped did not go unnoticed by the playboy who didn’t bother to wait for an invitation to enter your room.

“I heard that sigh and I resent it.  What? No confetti? No nudity?  What the hell?  When did you turn into a grown-up?”  You snorted, knowing this line of questioning was meant to either convince you to do something you didn’t want to, or to help assuage his guilt.  “I grace you with my presence on a Friday night and this is what I find? The old lady librarian look?”  It didn’t matter to him what you wore, anything you chose made his heart leap, but damned if he was going to let you know that.

Your glasses slipped off as you leaned forward, doubled over in laughter.  “Guess so, T.  There’s this thing most neurotypical humans do.  It’s called “studying,” it’s in every college handbook ever printed, and if I don’t do it, I’m not going to Oxford.”  Your undergraduate work had led you to your calling, Cognitive Neuroscience studies.  Your entire life’s goal was to gain admission to the Wellcome Trust Doctoral Training Program in Neuroscience at Oxford, which meant every grade counted, every test and paper was important.  You had no time to indulge in dinner out, let alone participate in the Unequivocally Unchecked Life of Tony Stark.

His facade fell, a bit, as he sat next to you and gently placed your glasses back on your nose.  You immediately pushed them up to avoid his eyes, and pulled loose papers out from under his exceptionally toned butt.  Not that you noticed.  “C’mon, it’s Friday night, when’s the last time you left this apartment to do something other than study? I told our moms I would check in on you.”

“Ahhhh, so that’s why you’re here, Moms Mandate.”  Your disappointment must have been evident, even to the oblivious Tony Stark.

“No.  I’m here because I didn’t get to see you over Thanksgiving and I miss hanging out with someone who doesn’t kiss my ass.  Though, if you wanted to kiss anything of mine, I would be more than open to that idea.”  Tony rarely seemed awkward, he covered it so well with bravado that it took a trained eye to realize that insecurity bubbled close to the surface.

You surprised yourself, and him, when you slowly leaned forward and, at the last minute, kissed his forehead.  His expression caused you to cry with laughter, again, as you hopped up and grabbed something to drink.  A surge of pride filled you; you had unsettled the unflappable Tony Stark.  “You can report back to the Moms that I am fine.  Working very hard, achieving excellent grades, exhibiting an appropriate level of safety, enjoying my friends, and unsullied by neither man nor woman.”  He sighed and dropped his head in disgust.

“That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.  C’mon, you’re coming with me, you are going to experience Boston nightlife and actually live the college dream.”  He was clearly thrilled with the idea, but you put the brakes on his party train.  

“Thank you for taking on the role of social protectorate, but I can’t.  I am not going to engage with you about why and how, I just need you to trust that I cannot go out tonight.”  His skepticism didn’t make you waver one bit.  

“Ok, then tomorrow night, and I am not taking no for an answer.  You are going to get all dolled up and enjoy a breathtakingly irresponsible night on the town.  My treat.”  Your heart flipped at the invitation, but it didn’t stop you from speaking your mind.

“As enticing as that invitation is, I do not want to be an anonymous member of the Tony Stark entourage.  I can find my own fun, thanks.”  You stood and opened the door, picking up additional reference materials and returning your attention to the task at hand.  “Bye T, thanks for stopping by, say hi to your Mom for me.  Please tell her I can’t wait to see her and your Dad at Christmas.”  

Tony Stark was unaccustomed to being dismissed.  He knew that other than his mother, you were the only person that could do it and cause him to pause and re-evaluate his behavior.  As he left, he knew he had to prove to you that he was sincere, that he wanted to hang out with you, help you lighten up, and watch you enjoy yourself.  You gasped and looked at him as he gently encircled your waist and hugged you.

“I miss you.  I want to spend time with you.  Please.”  You froze in his arms, unable to process what was going on.

“Sure, T.  Text me tomorrow and let me know what’s up.  We can meet up somewhere, no problem.”  Little did you know that Tony had much more in mind than a simple dinner.

You awoke to a confusing text.

Tony: When you read this, please head to the campus library and ask for the head librarian.  She has something for you

You: Ummmmmm, ok?

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you were a tiny bit fluttery that Tony had taken the time to think about you to this degree.  You grabbed a bagel and your protein shake and headed over.  You knew the head librarian, Ms. Williams, very well and she smiled upon seeing you.

“One moment, dear.  I’ve got something for you.”

Follow this clue to the 8th floor.  You will find an old friend waiting in the Children’s Literature section, with your next objective. You complied, searching for the provided shelf number when you arrived at the 8th floor.

You laughed as The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh came into view, with a Pooh and honey pot bookmark stuck in the pages.  This book was a staple of your childhoods.  Your mothers gave each other copies, read the stories to you every night, and your favorite quote was under your senior picture in the high school yearbook.  Your excitement grew as you remembered how fun Tony could make the most mundane events.  You also wondered how the hell he had time to do all this between last night and this morning.

The bookmark was tucked into the page with the quote, and you smiled at his sweetness.  He knew how much it meant to you.  

 “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” 

Did you think I could forget these words? They mean as much to me as they do to you.  I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me.  There’s a surprise waiting for you at your apartment, where you’ll find the next clue.

You practically sprinted back home, gasping when you saw a beautiful soft yellow dress hanging on your closet door, with an appointment card to a very expensive salon on Newbury Street.  You turned the card over and continued to smile - Tony had already paid for whatever you wanted done and had left a tip. He really could be thoughtful when he took the time.

It was early December, so you bundled up before heading out to your appointment.  When you left, you could not believe the transformation.  

You: Thanks Tony, I can’t believe you did all this.

Tony:  For you? Of course.  I’ll be by at 8pm.  Can’t wait to see you.

That felt different.  Your insides squished and squirmed - whether it was excitement or nerves, you weren’t sure.  You dressed, beautified, and waited.  

Tony: I hope you’re ready, beautiful.  On my way.

Geez, he was laying it on thick.  You laughed when he pulled up to your building in a regular old car he must have borrowed from someone’s father and jumped out to open your door.  You had no idea why he would not drive one of his ridiculously flashy fleet.  You were a huge Madonna fan in your younger years, and this struck you as the plot of her “Material Girl” video; was he trying to impress you by thinking he was just as “regular” as you were? Tony could never be described as “regular” or “average,” even if he didn’t have a dollar to his name.

Tony never really stopped.  He momentarily paused, he changed his focus, but his brain, his body, his mouth were always in high gear.  So when he got out of the car and saw you, it was a wholly different feeling.  He had never seen you look so beautiful - the dress wrapped within your white winter coat, your cheeks pink from the cold, your hair beautifully styled.  He hadn’t realized how long your hair had gotten and how much it changed your entire appearance.  

“You look stunning.  I did a very good job picking this out, didn’t I?” Now this was your best friend.  

“Yes, Tony, you did an amazing job.  I loved the clues, loved the book, loved everything.  It made me realize how much I missed you.”  You turned to him and asked him to stop.  “How much I missed the real Tony Stark.” His eyes closed as you softly kissed his cheek and let your hand land on his.

“C’mon, time for me to show you off and ply you with insanely expensive drinks.” He kept his promise.  The night was fun, like old times, but prettier and with alcohol.  You talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in, sharing your hurts and stories and plans, and reveling in each other’s company.  Neither of you wanted the night to end, so you invited him to your apartment for a nightcap.  You were shocked when he refused.

“No thanks, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  Your eyes questioned and he saw the sting of rejection.  He looked at you, held your hands, and pecked your lips with his.  You stepped back, stunned. “You have no idea how much I want to, but I want to earn you, and I haven’t yet.”

“What does that mean? What are you trying to earn?”

“Someone I don’t deserve.  You.”  With another soft peck on the cheek, he was gone.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, you wondered if that night was a dream.  You and Tony awkwardly texted a bit, but didn’t see much of each other in the mad rush of finals.  After handing in your last project and dragging yourself to your apartment to make up as much lost sleep as possible, you were stunned out of your stupor by the sight of Tony waiting in front of your door. 

“You’re done, right?” His tired smile mirrored your own.

“Yes, thank the Lord in Heaven and every deity known to modern man.”  

“Good.  I wanted to show you something I’ve been working on.”  He stood and took out his phone, ready to press play when you put your hand over his.

“Tony can we go inside so I can sit down and maybe sleep for 2 days?”  He barely heard you, his nerves clearly a distraction, but he nodded and sat next to you, relaxing when you lay your head on his shoulder.

He apologized for leaving you hanging since your night out, for not paying enough attention to you, for not showing you how much you meant to him.  “My mom also slapped me once or twice to drive the point home that I’ve been a douchebag.  I’m sorry.”  He cued up the video on his phone and played it.  The introduction included the theme song to the “Winnie the Pooh” movie and cut to your favorite quote.  He took your silence for awe, then realized you were sleeping soundly.

As he tucked a blanket around you and kissed your forehead, he whispered, “You are the reason I am braver and stronger, and that’s because you’re smarter.  I hope you hear me because I can’t imagine saying it out loud again.”  You smiled to yourself as you snuggled under your covers and drifted off to sleep.

The End