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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

Note

Could you do some possessive Baraka x reader? :)

BOY CAN I

Mine

Baraka x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, Jealous!Baraka, sex, voyeurism (?), exhibitionism (?) unprotected sex, feral/predator, primal sex, biting (c'mon we've all seen this man's teeth), blood play (sort of), breeding kink, slight Kanon fudging for plot reasons

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩

You were his prized possession, an Edenian who wanted to learn more about Tarkatan culture and customs. Who better to learn from than the leader of the clans, Baraka, who had the good graces of Kitana Kahn?

You studied them well. From your tiny village, you'd only ever heard stories of them, or encountered the occasional raiding tribe that tried (and failed) to pillage your homes.

You knew they were nomadic, that much was a given considering how rarely your own people interacted with them.

But you always wanted to know more. Now that Kitana Kahn brokered a peace with them, you pleaded, as an imperial scribe, to study them. (And oh, boy, learning about the Ritual of Blood was very interesting.)

She agreed, believing that the people learning about one another would bring everyone closer together.

Little did she know that it would bring you and Baraka together as well.

You found out about the so-called Time Merger, what Kotal Kahn had done to his people, and what the Titan Kronika promised him in return. In spending long hours listening, conversing... Until it morphed into him glancing at you longer and longer. Imagining how your soft flesh would be so pliant in his large, leathery hands. How sweet you would taste.

It made him salivate at the thought of tasting you.

It started out with the courting rituals, bringing you freshly hunted meat, weapons, muttering soft, raspy words in his native tongue.

You had a few relationships in your long life, but none ever lasted long.

Whereas many were hesitant, or reserved, Baraka pledged himself to you wholly, "proving" he was good enough to be your mate.

And... Yeah. You gave in to his passion, so intense that your mind could barely catch up. More than once that passion wound up with you having gravel and sand embedded in your knees, bits of desert scrub clinging to your hair as he pounded into you from behind, grooves and scratches in your skin where he'd grazed you with his claws and fangs.

Sex with a Tarkatan? Intense was the tamest word you could use to describe it. Feral was one of the others. It was rough, primal, full of pure animalistic need to not make love, but to mate; to claim you. And you'd be lying if you tried to deny it and say you didn't enjoy it.

At least a little...

The marks he would leave on you, he would go on to explain, were to ensure other Tarkatans would not dare make a move on you. However, those outside of their tribe didn't understand. Yeah, explaining to Kitana Kahn what the marks meant was... awkward to say the least.

Where Tarkatans knew to leave you be, other Outworlders and Earthrealmers did not. Males especially would gaze at you with lust-filled eyes and stand far too close for his liking.

It was after one such situation, where an envoy was sent to administer some supplies as a gesture of goodwill to the tribe that Baraka was particularly set off.

One of the men in the group decided to flirt with you, lean in and give cheap compliments in hopes of getting you out of your clothes, to sneak away for a moment of unsatisfying carnal want.

He knew you were loyal, but something about the way that you smiled and genuinely laughed at one of his jokes had Baraka seething with rage. He could feel the blades in his arms flex and shift, wanting to rend the flesh from that soft, weak little man's body.

But he waited until the man's feeble attempts at courtship ended, before he dragged you off the moment the sky blackened and stars twinkled high above.

"Baraka! What--?" You were interrupted by a deep snarl; and Baraka pinned you against a boulder, inhaling deeply your scent. A mixture of his musk and the scented oils you fancied. But now, it was tainted by that foul man's stench.

It was like silt and mud staining a perfectly glassy pool in a desert oasis. He would not tolerate it.

"I can smell him on you." His gravelly voice tumbles out against your skin, his hot breath and bits of saliva dripping onto your shoulder.

"I don't like it."

You barely had a moment to think before his hands gripped the front of your tunic, and with a hard tug, ripped it right down the front, exposing your breasts to the cooling night air.

"Baraka! Someone will see us!" You hiss at him, moving to cover yourself, looking around in a panic.

It was one thing for him to pin you down and fuck you somewhere secluded, hidden, or even in his own tent...

But you were far too close to the camp and the envoy for your liking.

"Let them see. They need to know you are mine." He snarled, pinning your hands on either side of your head as he leaned in once more, scraping his jagged fangs over the flesh of your throat.

He licked at your skin, briefly, before moving up to your lips and shoving his tongue inside mercilessly, threatening to choke you out of your oxygen. For added measure, he took your bottom lip in his teeth and bit hard enough to puncture and cause a small rivulet of blood to drip down your chin, making you whine as he licked it up, before shoving his tongue back inside your mouth to tangle with your own; the sweet, coppery flavor of your blood invading your taste buds.

He pulled away, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva to mix with your blood as his hands fell to your hips, gripping you tight, the spikes on his arms tearing into the soft fabric of your dress as he tugged slightly.

You could hear the seams ripping beneath his claws as he did this.

You let out a gasp when he parted your thighs with his knee, and he grabbed your hand, forcing you to palm his fattening cock that hung beneath his trousers.

"I will make sure they know you belong to me. That you're mine." He said to you.

You felt your mouth water and your cunt flutter at the promise of having him inside of you.

You could see spittle dribble down his chin as his nostrils flared, his red-gold eyes focusing on you with all their intensity.

"I can ssssssmell you." He said, his voice rumbling lowly and hotly against your throat.

He shoved his hand beneath your skirt, chuckling madly when he discovered nothing beneath, feeling how wet you were already.

"Hrrr." Baraka hissed. "Don't lie to me. You've been wanting this all day."

You tipped your head back, biting your lip hard to stifle your moans as Baraka teased your folds, wetting his hand before he forced two of his fingers inside of you, mindful of his claws as he curled and twisted them, stretching you out.

"Be a good girl for me." He hissed, abruptly pulling himself free and aggressively licking his fingers clean while staring directly into your eyes.

You whimpered, then, when he gripped your hips and spun you around with dizzying force, his hand between your shoulders, forcing you down until you were practically bent in half in front of him. Baraka hiked your skirt up over your hips and spread your legs wide, pussy glistening and wet. All for him.

Only him. He just needed to remind you of that, and he would, he made sure of the fact as he tugged his trousers down and freed himself.

He gripped the base of his cock with one hand, taking a moment to line himself up. You had to bite into your knuckle to swallow back the wail that tried to rip from your throat as he thrust inside of you, cramming his hard cock deep within you, the tip harshly slamming against your cervix in one animalistic thrust.

Some Tarkatans mated for life, and he definitely wanted to keep you. No other weaker male would have you. He wouldn't let them. He'd slaughter them first.

He pulled out, leaving only the tip of his cock, before snapping his hips back into you, a short yelp bubbling out at the force, feeling the air in your lungs leap with the ferocity of his pace.

You bit back your sounds, not wanting anyone to overhear the two of you as Baraka relentlessly pounded into you, fucking more and more of your slick down your legs, dripping into the cracked, sandy ground below.

Baraka had no such compunction. He was quite the opposite.

He wanted someone to hear you. For them to know how good he fucked you, how he took care of you. How he satisfied you.

And god, was he doing an amazing job.

Every thrust had your mind going blank, vision fuzzy at the edges.

He brought his hand around your front, viciously swiping at your clit as he pummeled your guts ruthlessly with his dick, knowing full well you were close to cumming, he was just trying to bring you to that delicious edge quicker.

Your walls fluttering around him, you finally choked out a sob as he fucked you through your orgasm, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he bit down on your shoulder, lapping up the blood that welled up from the punctures.

He bullied his cock into you faster, and faster until he couldn't take your pussy squeezing him any longer, snarling and snapping his jaws at the air as he emptied every last drop of his seed into your greedy womb.

He hadn't heard of a Tarkatan breeding with an Edenian, but he was certainly not above trying with you. He brought his hand up from your aching and throbbing clit, to rub at your belly with a deep rumbling laugh coming out of his throat.

You panted, legs wobbly as he kept you pressed against the rocks; the only thing keeping you upright were his hips and hands pinning you there.

His hot breathing ghosted your sweaty skin, cold against the moisture that dripped down your body, soaking the remnants of your dress.

A deep rumbling emanated from Baraka as he lifted his head, turning to the side. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling, a wild look in his eyes.

It wasn't until you lifted your gaze to look at what amused him so, that you realized.

The man from the envoy was standing there, a torch in his hand. He had apparently heard the noise and came to investigate.

You turned away, burying your face in your arm with shame.

You felt Baraka snap his hips to yours again, making you sob quietly into your arm at the fresh wave of pleasure.

Baraka laughed as he started fucking you again, his expression slightly unhinged as he rocked you with each jagged thrust.

"She's mine, little man. Go back to your little camp fire."

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mk baraka #baraka #baraka mk11 #baraka x reader #baraka x you

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woneuntonzz · 7 months

Text

competitive academic rival!eunseok x overachiever, afab!reader

“ started with a spark,¹ now we're on fire.² ” ; (2/2)

warning/s: cussing, violent thoughts

content: songfic, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, fluff, incy-wincy bit of angst, very lovey-dovey i'm actually attached, mention of other idol names for world building !!

wc: 7.4k!!

⋆⭒°｡⋆ i feel like we've made it pretty far, now we're stargazing ☄️ ; inspired by The Neighbourhood's Stargazing 🎶

It was a joke when Yunjin said Eunseok might take her place as your one and only best friend, but you figured there might be a slight truth to it. It wasn't that you'd dismiss Yunjin entirely, it's just that overtime, one instance of being project partners will become a sort of regimen for the two of you, him trailing behind you, calling out, “Partner, wait up!” as you walk to wherever you're headed.

You would still exchange playful banters —some not sounding very playful at all— and would still contest each other during class recitations, but it was all fair and square, unlike before where it'd be blood, sweat and tears, not in a literal sense of course.

“You should write this part. You're great at expressing your opinion.” This time, you two partnered up for statement writing —that supposedly was for a group of three.

“You really think so?” you tilted your head at him, jestful taunting hinted in your voice.

“Yeah. You're beautiful.”

You knew he wasn't finished speaking, but a part of you wished it had ended there.

“—your narrative I mean. If there's anything I'd like to correct, I'd say you take a little too long to get to the point, but overall your writing is great.” you nod, flailing away the lost hope in your eyes.

It's been three months since you've grown to treat each other like a friend. It was something your past selves would've never foreseen, like a switch had been accidentally turned on.

You wouldn't change a thing, though. Even if everything was only by chance, you wish it would stay till after highschool graduation, or, till all of your senses died out —till you were sure there was no way of seeing or hearing him ever again.

The thought was so unhinged for you at first, but denying is for underdogs, and you were no loser.

Considering the time you've spent with him, a big part of the blame is on him. Well how could you not blame him? when your conversations were at its tamest, he would resort to saying things that made you think more than when your history teacher would throw around riddles for you to figure out what he was trying to teach.

“You really like green? that's kind of gross.” you scoffed at his comment after he'd observe that most of the things you owned were of your favorite color.

You hold up your phone, showing the back of your fern-colored phone case. “It's fern. Maybe you're thinking about a gross shade of green —why does it matter to you anyways?”

“I just thought you'd like a different type of color, like blue.” he slightly shrugged, his eyes wandering to the keychain dangling at your bag's zipper.

“I like blue, but I see it all the time, everywhere, so my eyes are kind of tired of it at this point.” you gave him an innocent smile, one that would soon falter when he replied,

“You see me all the time, I hope you like me too.”

What kind of idiot says that? —you were determined not to emit much of a reaction, you feared it might be too much for the both of you, and that he might be just that friendly with those he considered friends. Of course I like you. —you weren't sure though, if it was only harmless feelings you'd have for a best friend, or if it was this almost electric sensation that made everything else around you fade away from the void of your mind as you isolate yourself with the thought of him.

After two weeks of somewhat careful reflecting, you realized that it was the latter.

He'd accept his feelings around the same time you did, but he most certainly caught it first. He'd tell himself that you never minded his incidental wording, not realizing just how bad he was at reading people. He just wouldn't catch the way your eyes would linger from where they last situated after he spoke because he was too afraid to look at you long enough to catch your reaction.

You were both so convinced that you did such a great job of hiding from each other, but the people around you could say otherwise.

Eunseok would start biting the inside of his cheek when Shotaro told him, “You know what you two remind me of? like a very, painfully slow basketball game.”

“Come again?” his friend laughs at him, poking fun at the confusion plastered on his face.

“She likes you too, I mean, why else would she stick around you and always be your partner?” The idea made him bite into his bottom lip, reminiscing about the way things used to be before the near fallout —the essay incident.

She's a people pleaser —but he couldn't just say that, and he knew you struggled with it too, he just wouldn't figure out why just yet. “She just finds it hard to say no to anyone.”

“Okay, partner.” Shotaro's teasing had him shaking his head.

It was something he wanted to help you with, saying no, taking care of yourself first. You kept giving and giving, it was something he never understood about you when he knew it's normal to be tired, angry, sad, and it's most certainly normal to refuse to save yourself from the anguish.

With you, he chose to be careful. He wanted you to be comfortable with him, to be ready when you finally him why you would always say yes to everyone, why you were so stubborn and so willing to give so much of your time and energy for the benefit of someone else who wouldn't even bat an eye if you got hit by a speeding truck.

It pained him to see you fake your keenness whenever Yuri, Ahra, or some other piece of shit chased after you in the hallway. They'd never directly say it, but they were basically asking you for their grades, all while you had to make sure yours were better than last quarter's results.

If you weren't taking care of yourself, he would, as much as his courage allowed him to.

The end of the school year was just right around the corner, you were busy all month preparing, elections for next year's student council were being held before the end of the year.

Eunseok was already a part of the student council, he was a public information officer, a very recognized one at that, but this time he was running for president.

He wanted you to run alongside him, as his vice president, but you were afraid that it was way beyond your limits. You have been a part of the student council before, the year he transferred in your school, you were a peace officer, but that's the farthest you've gone. You've lost elections the next year, and the current year, you lost the public information officer position to him.

Still, he was able to encourage you to run for secretary. And like he promised —though not verbally— he helped you throughout everything.

“I haven't gotten much sleep last night, sorry for drooling on your sleeve.” you lazily tried to wipe off the wet stain on his forearm that you had accidentally napped on whilst he explained something about initiatives, you couldn't quite recall.

He had actually stopped speaking when he saw the way you tried to fight your drowsiness. He felt bad for almost laughing, but the way your eyelids would shut itself and you forcing them open only to fail seconds later, he thought it was adorable.

“It's okay.” he moved his forearm, it was a signal to tell you to lie your head on it again. “You can rest.”

Your mind was still a bit hazy. You wiped your eyes and you would keep doing so, progressively becoming more forceful until he stopped you by taking ahold of your wrist. “Hey, stop, your eyes will hurt.”

He looked at them. He could almost feel your exhaustion, but even through it he could only see how lovely the color in your eyes were.

“Sorry, I was just up all night doing…” What did you do? oh, right,

“Someone else's work? don't be sorry. Give yourself a break, please.” you would lock eyes with him when he said please, his voice was pure silk, gliding through the very cracks of your soul, it almost made your eyes brim with tears.

The elections would roll around. You two would be inseparable by then, leading people to think you were running for vice president since he was with you more than he was with the actual running vice of your partylist. Even then, if they were being honest, they'd vote for the two of you. The pair of you were like a premium package in the market, two perfectly flawed individuals promoting your ambitions to the whole school.

Your confidence flourished like never before, and the stutter you always had when speaking, you were way past it. You received so much support and encouragement, not only from him, but also from your best friend Yunjin who ran for vice president and other candidates in your partylist.

You were happy with how everything was turning out, and so was he. He was confident you'd get the spot, not even caring any longer if he lost. He just wanted to see you succeed in something you've worked so hard to achieve for so long.

“I hope I get it this time. I've been beating myself up for not having enough confidence to get myself into bigger opportunities.” he heard you say to Yunjin when you were all getting ready to go home.

He didn't need to say anything because your friend was already there to assure you, but his stare was enough to tell you that he cared. He wanted you to know that he believed in you, more than you believe in yourself.

The sequel to your odyssey wouldn't be announced till the next school year began, but until then, you two would keep contact. It would start off with him popping up in your notifications with a little, hey how r u —which would shortly be followed by, it's eunseok btw.

yeah ik it's u —you laughed quietly to yourself, legs against your chest as you got comfy on your living room sofa. i alr have u saved in my contacts.

he would immediately reply, oh right

—lmao

You would subconsciously pucker your lips as you typed, whats up?

the sky? —you physically cringed at his reply, funny for being so unfunny.

bro? 😭

bro…

idk it's been two weeks

since school ended?

yeah

and it'll only take like less than a month till we're back

but suffering is for the weak 💪

right 💪

kinda miss it too

props to u for missing school ig

i meant to say you

lmao

It was normal to say things like that to your friends, you and Yunjin say it to each other when you reunite after a considerably long time of not seeing each other, so, this must be… normal, right?

that's oddly sweet of u

hbu?

same

it's not the same w/o ur annoying ass

annoying or not

i know u love my ass

eww????

Maybe not his ass.

You two would go on with your little convos every other day, that would soon turn into everyday, to every other hour, into phone calls.

would it be weird if i asked to call rn

why

u wanna?

yea

feeling lazy to type jus saying

call me then

You thought maybe you sounded too sure of yourself than you actually were, cause when he called, you fumbled, trying to fix yourself before you answered —it was pointless since it was an audio call and he won't even be able to see the pillow lining marked on your face from laying down for so long as you chatted with him.

He also had no reason to feel lazy at all, in fact the only activity he'd been up to is on his phone, talking to you. He just wanted to hear from you again, because at that point you two still had sixteen days left before you got to see each other again.

“Y/n” he spoke as soon as you picked up.

“Eunseok.” you said back, imitating his tone.

“The voting results are out, I'm looking at it right now, on my laptop.” you could almost hear him gulp before he spoke again. “We got it.”

You yelped, but rushed to cover your mouth. “Shit, is that for real?”

“Yep. It's for real alright.” his smile was wide, like the one he wore when you finally accepted his offer to be his project partner.

“Oh my fucking —thank you Seok. I love you, I love you guys so much, holy shit.” his eyes were wide open as he listened to your celebratory exclamations.

You loved him? He knew it was your utter excitement speaking, but deep down he just wished he could hear it again, just those three precious words.

──────────﹒★﹒﹒──﹒﹒★﹒──────────

Time flew by, but not like how it usually would. This time it actually seemed to be a little slower. Maybe it was because you spent the majority of your break talking to him, which you didn't even think was possible. What was even there for the two of you to talk about outside of school? you two had never gone below surface level conversations, then suddenly he was approaching you in school all smiley while holding a cup of iced coffee?

“Drink up Sleepy, my favorite dwarf.” he sounded so sweet, but it was a tease.

Suddenly your height became a topic of discussion, comparing you to one of Snow White's seven dwarfs, and he'd pinpoint the one who was most like you. Sleepy, always sleepy —and also pretty small. You weren't even that small, he was just a bit —no, he was a total tease. You'd mention it was your dad's genes, then it would turn into you telling him that you and your dad weren't really close at all.

It was a drastic shift, but he learned to appreciate the trust you've granted him by telling him those things, and he would find out about the emotional neglect that went unnoticed by you yourself.

You carefully took the cup from his hand, and with a smile you said, “Thank you, Seok.”

If back then he hid his emotions from you and everyone else, now he had his smile on full display, facing its very cause, you. He had learned how to read you now, and he knew he was getting somewhere when your voice had started to soften at certain times. Your voice that was usually dominant, almost sounding demanding in a way, he would be one of the few who would hear it completely disappear, and taking its place would be a sound he could only describe as his sweetest dreams.

Hearing you speak again in face to face for the first time after a while felt unreal almost, he felt ecstatic from your voice alone, so much so that he almost forgot that he was to be announced as student council president that day.

During orientation, you would be declared as student council secretary, and he's the president —the president who stood next to you instead of his designated place, next to the vice president. Yunjin stood where he was supposed to be, you noticed and whispered to him, “Hey, go back to your position.” but he'd just chuckle at your furrowed eyebrows. “Seok?”

His gaze was fixated on you, and it was like the whole world stopped for the two of you. “Hmm?”

“Congratulations, and, thank you. I really owe you one.” he chuckled again, and all you could see was him.

��You don't owe me anything, but thank you for trusting me, congrats Sleepy.” his smile caused your mind to almost lose itself, eyes wandering down to the glint on his lips.

Suddenly you wondered if they would feel as soft as the words he had spoken to you. You were ashamed that you would think that about your best friend, but he was thinking the same thing, eyes fixated on your velvet lips.

Nothing would come out of it, for fact, it would be as if nothing ever happened. But you both knew, the way you looked at each other was different. Heck, you could never even spare anyone else a second of eye contact. At that point, you two knew each other well enough, as opponents, and eventually as close friends. Now he just had to figure out how to know you as his lover.

──────────﹒★﹒﹒──﹒﹒★﹒──────────

The two of you would be busy as ever and being together in those situations served as a perk, for even with the urge to just throw away your paperwork and drop out of school, you were able to continue with each other's motivation, each other's smiles, each other's voices.

—each other's touch. “Are your hands okay?”

He eyed your fingers that had green guard bandages on them. You've been writing a lot, not only for being a secretary, but also for the ridiculous amount of school work you had piled up and had to finish before the end of the week.

He was hesitant, but you kept yourself busy and it gave him a push to just go for it. Moments later, your writing would be interrupted as a hand reached out for yours.

“Rest for a while. We have plenty of time before the next period.” was all he said as he enclosed your hand in his grasp.

His touch felt warm, relieving you of the pain and the pressure everything's been giving you lately. When he moved his thumb against your skin, you just wanted to drag him with you and run away from everything and everyone.

Realization would only hit you when from a distance, you saw a few of your classmates looking at the two of you, then whispering to each other.

“Hey Y/n, I hope you're not too busy—”

“What?” Ahra had approached again, but this time Eunseok answered for you.

“Oh, I just needed help with the gen bio activity.” she eyed your linked hands.

“Right, just give me your paper, I'll sort it out for you.” Ahra handed you her activity sheet, but it was Eunseok who'd snatch it from her hand and retort,

“You people can't do anything for yourselves? Jesus.” he had an ill-tempered glare that he kept on the paper he held, but he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “If you need it so badly, I'll do It. Fifty bucks.”

“But I don't have fifty bucks on me right n—”

“Then go find someone else to pester.” he says as he hands Ahra's paper back to her.

Ahra takes it and walks away in shame, and spite. Why did he have to be there to ruin everything?

You were worried Ahra would be up to speaking ill of you to others like past classmates have done to you before, but he reassured you.

“They don't have to matter, besides, you're not obligated to take responsibility for their own.” just think about you and I —he finishes his words in his mind, not afraid to admit, but afraid to say it.

Even if he didn't say it, you were already thinking it. Because why would anything else matter when you had him and he had you. The summit of your dreams used to be these superficial things, and now it would be a future, a future of a better life, living off of pure contentment and bliss. A future together.

It would all remain unsaid, but you could feel it with each other.

Through him, you would learn to say no without much thought of the consequences all you had to think about is his fond eyes greeting you once you've successfully overcome your struggles.

And through you, he learned to be more open and considerate. He would finally see things from others' perspectives, helping him understand what he needed to do as the president of the student council, and as your…

Well, what was he to you? What were you to each other?

The label would be unclear to everyone, and to you both, but you were sure that you had something. You shared the same feelings and the same longing whenever your time with each other was cut short.

It was almost as if your only reason to go to keep attending school was to see each other and be with each other. It was easier to stick around with one another since you were both major parts of the student council, so when people asked if you two had a thing, there was only one answer.

“Well, we run the student council.” and apparently you ran in each other's minds too.

sleepy

don't force yourself to go to school tmrw ok?

but there's literally a presentation

and?

if u present with a stuffy nose and phlegm in your throat would that be any better?

no…

good

u better rest and not tire urself with ANYTHING else

oki

thanks seok :>

miss u alr lol

u know i miss u more

it's so hard to bear with these ppl without u around

see? this is why i need to go to school...

hell no

get ur ass some rest

i'll see u when u feel better <33

It was usually you who would be too sick to go to school, and he quickly picked up on your routine of going to school with allergies that'll turn into a fever by the end of the day, and you would be out of school for a day or two, and he'd always make sure to check in on you through messages or calls.

Soon enough though, he'd show up outside your house. It was a risky move, but he was always lucky enough that your parents weren't around to see him.

“You're really outside my house? Are you crazy?” you sneezed into your phone right after you spoke.

You heard his sweet chuckle from the other line. “Yeah, cutie. I have something for you, can you go down? or is there a way for me to get in? Is it through the doggy door or your bedroom window?”

Your laughter was weak due to the phlegm in your body. “Wait, wait, I'll open the door for you.”

Somehow, the thought of seeing him gave you enough energy to rush down the stairs to welcome him.

You ended the call on your phone as you opened the door, and there he was. “Hey Sleepy, looking real groggy there.”

A playful glare made its way onto your face, and he'd laugh loud enough for you to hear despite the distance.

“Can I come in?” of course you let him in.

He had about two hours before your parents came back. He got you food, very warm and comforting seaweed soup and a cup of warm lemon tea.

He watched you eat a couple bites, very slowly and feebly. He grew worried about the way you struggled with just holding the spoon up to your mouth. “May I?”

Honestly, why'd he even ask? he would do it anyway even if you refused —in this case you weren't even able to utter a reply. He takes the spoon, and feeds you, being very gentle, even wiping away some stray soup from the corners or your lips and your chin.

Luckily, you weren't too sick to miss his enamored eyes and for a moment he'd stop feeding you, wiping your bottom lip, allowing his gaze on it linger. Flustered, you'd bite down on it with the strength you had.

He chuckles, looking down for a brief moment. “You're so adorable.” —and a soft pinch to your cheek.

──────────﹒★﹒﹒──﹒﹒★﹒──────────

Your final year in highschool has finally ended. Elation coursed throughout your body when you received your medal as salutatorian, and of course, he was your valedictorian.

All those years he thought he was graduating with not much to look forward to. It was life, he graduates, and graduates again, then he'd be out making big contributions to the economy. But now, you would be in his list of aspirations, because at that point, none of you have ever thought of confessing, but still looked in each other's eyes like they were the only ones that existed.

The day of your graduation, he'd run to you —which startled you a bit— and carry you by your sides, spinning you once before settling you back down again. All you could hear was each other's laughter, and he'd engulf you in his embrace.

“We've made it pretty far.” —and you both wanted to go further, further from what you already had, a reassurance, a settlement.

You two would keep constant contact the whole time you prepared yourselves for college. It could be a miracle, or maybe it was truly meant to be —you two got into your dream university.

In all honesty, he never had a dream university. He'd only have one when he heard it from you. “Yonsei seems like a great university.” —his dream will always and only lie with you.

You spent your days talking, daydreaming about college life. You both knew it wasn't something to daydream about since it would only get harder from then, but it was driven by the thought that all this time, you would still be together. Still, none of you would outrightly say it.

“Imagine we'd get forced to drink with our seniors.” you let your phone lay close to your head on your bed as you spoke to him on call.

And to that he replied, “I'd never let that happen.”

You laughed, and it was the most beautiful song he's ever heard. He ended up laughing with you.

“I'm serious.” he adds, still laughing.

“I know, Seok. I know.”

The time would come eventually. You two would be in two different departments —he was in computer science— but fortunately, your seniors seemed to only know one place where they could pressure the freshmen to their favor.

Eunseok walks up to the table where you're at, you two have had your eyes on each other ever since you've step foot in that place.

He held onto the strap of his shoulder bag, looking into your honeyed eyes. “Let's go home.”

Everyone had their eyes on him, then on you. “Woah, woah, and who's this pretty boy? Why are you cutting our Y/n's fun so short in the night huh?”

“Y/n doesn't drink.” your seniors looked at you and you nod, keeping your eyes on him.

You extend your hand out to him, and soon you would feel sanctuary.

No other words were said as he pulled you along with him to the exit, not minding to spare the others another look. His hand still held onto yours as he walked you back to your dorm room. You were both quiet the entire time, your social batteries drained to its very limits from the orientation activities and the higher-ups pressuring the both of you to join them waste away.

Before completely letting go of you, you would both stop in front of your door, facing each other.

“See, I told you so.” you laughed at his playful jabbing.

“Okay, my firefighter. Thank you for saving me.” his eyes wandered down to your lips once again, but they would shift back up to your forehead.

He wipes the bit of sweat on it with his thumb, letting his palm slowly glide down and rest on your cheek.

“I said no, you know, but they kept insisting I come with them.” his hand went from your cheek to your chin, gently taking a hold of it.

“I know Sleepy. It's alright. It happened to me too.”

You wondered what would happen next. The tension had only grown stronger, it was only the two of you in that hallway, it was you, him and the desire dispersed throughout the silence of the halls —but nothing was salvaged from it. The looks in your eyes yearned for the feeling of each other's lips, but he held back.

His hands cupped your face, slightly squishing your cheeks together. “You kinda look like Keroppi.” a bittersweet chuckle leaves his mouth. “Good night, Y/n.”

Before he could walk away, your embrace would stop him, and he'd hug back, almost not wanting to ever let go. His hand wandered to the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

“Good night Seok.”

That night was definitely one to remember, one that made you realize, he's always loved Keroppi, does that mean he loves me too? —maybe you were taking it too far, but it wasn't impossible. You saw it, you felt it, his amore through the feeling of his skin against yours.

Every moment you've shared with him felt like a push, just say it, just do it, but none of you would budge.

Your best friend Yunjin was in the same department as him, she didn't see you as often as he would, but when she did, she wanted to just push your faces into each other, just kiss already —she'd think to herself as she observed the two of you just being so lost in each other.

At one point you'd feel bad for not spending as much time as you used to with her, but after talking to her about it, she reassured you that she wasn't an obligation for you to worry about, but she'd always be there when you needed her, and of course you would be there for her too.

You thought you were lucky that both of your favorite people were in the same department, shared the same classes, that way it was easier for you to see them and hang out simultaneously.

Doubt would start swimming around the oceans of your thoughts —one day you were set to meet them in the campus library. Your pace was a bit speedy, wearing such a gleeful smile, you walked to meet them again after the longest week of your life. The campus library was huge, but it wouldn't take you a while to spot them.

Your first instinct was to run up to them, but maybe it was your exhaustion that had stopped you from doing so and instead just stand there for a while, watching them laugh together from a distance, and they would get so close to each other that your breath almost hitched.

You felt insecure, but also hated yourself for even allowing these feelings to surge. They're also good friends, your best friends, you were more fond of one of them for sure, but you both loved and cared for them just as much.

Your worries would subside once you were finally seated next to him. Your eyes lingered on each other's allure, it was quite clear that you two had this certain look reserved for each other.

“Oh, look. The project partners are back again.” —your harmonious laughter would fill your ears.

At first it came easy, but then it wasn't.

Being in different departments meant seeing them from afar walking side by side, and you would find that they would be together a lot more than before.

When they'd meet with you, they were together, almost all the time. At first you thought, it was easier that way for them, and for you especially.

Then love month came around. Everyone was busy preparing booths for the Feb Fair celebration. It was three days long, and everyone wanted it to be perfect, single or not, it was three days of just love, love for friends, family, for him.

Just a few days before Feb Fair started, despite your efforts of searching for him everywhere you could, sadly, your efforts would be futile.

hi seok

been looking for u everywhere

u busy? —delivered, 4 hours ago.

sorry

shit sorry

i am kinda busy

but not like usual

it's for something vv special :))

that's nice

you have any plans for feb fair?

anyone asked u out yet?

even if anyone did i would reject them lol

would u reject me then? —read, 10 minutes ago.

it's okay roppi lmaooo

tbh i'd say yes w/o u even asking

really?

so it's settled then?

you got it :3

shit

i got the prettiest date for feb fair 🙈

You seemed to have forgotten about the roots of your agitations once you've gotten a chance to talk with him again.

You made sure you would look the prettiest when you were with him. You wore a blue dress, he never said it was his favorite, but you did see it quite often in the items he owned, and some in his wardrobe.

But maybe you should've gone for green. The first day of Feb Fair, entering the area of festivities, a band playing some overrated love song would serve as soft background music for everyone else indulged in the love, it's in the air as they'd claim.

Maybe this would be the day, the day you would finally admit to each other's feelings, confess.

You walked around, taking in the luminous fairy lights, and the fake flowers that accompanied them. Even if they were artificial, they were still really pretty, and you would be the living depiction of those flowers, your dress flowing with the cool breeze as your eyes glimmered with the stars.

When he saw you, his whole world stopped. You were suddenly the only one he could see. He wished he was quick enough to rush over to you, hold your hand, but you were gone, like the wind.

You had seen him handing over a bouquet to your best friend —Yunjin, and at that moment you thought she looked so perfect that you thought your presence was unwanted.

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe he didn't mean it at all. Maybe you were only meant to be a bridge for them.

That night, you would lock yourself in your room, ignoring the calls and messages in your phone and your own roomate. You just kept yourself under your covers.

“Hey, um, Y/n, Eunseok's outside.”

“Please tell him to go away.” you cried out.

And your roommate would do just that. His heart would sink, but it was a lot worse compared to when you had first rejected his efforts of asking you as his project partner.

It was like the past all over again. There you cried all alone, then, it used to be because of an essay and his egocentric self, now it was because of a bouquet, and his fleeting promise.

He just hoped he could talk to you again.

y/n it wasn't what you thought it was

i'll explain to you when we meet again

please

i'm sorry

i'll wait for you by the water fountain tomorrow —delivered, 10 hours ago.

be my partner, please? —delivered, 30 minutes ago.

It was the second day of the Feb Fair. You were still isolating yourself in your room. You wondered where they could be. You still hadn't opened your phone so you thought, maybe they're together, like they always were.

You hopelessly sat on your bed, munching on some snacks. Suddenly it would hit you that all the food you had in your pantry was from him. Holding back your tears, you would let the packet of gummy worms fall down on your bed, with you feeling defeated.

Feeling like you needed to move, you got up from your bed, weakly opening your closet.

I should've worn the green dress. —unlike the blue one, it was more casual, and the most important detail of all, it had a cute little frog on the right chest area. You let your finger trace the frog imprint, almost tearing up again.

Closing your closet, you turned around, ready to plop yourself back down onto your bed, but your phone lit up again.

maybe tomorrow? :)) —read, 4 minutes ago.

When he saw that you had read his message, he wore a hopeful smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd show up the next day, or maybe in the night. He promised that this time, he won't skimp on his words, he was going to tell you everything.

It was already dark, nearing 9:00 pm when he had messaged you. You were admittedly worried and guilty for making him wait till that time of the night.

Reading through his messages again, you knew you needed to show up. Because you trusted him. Trust, you almost forgot. You have given him so much of it.

The next day, you got up relatively early, at least earlier than your roommate. She'd wake up to you already dolled up.

“That's a cute dress.” she said, she had her hands against her sides, looking around for a while before asking, “Um, if you don't mind, are you and Eunseok… okay now?”

“We'll be alright.” the tiredness in your voice was still evident, and so your roommate would just give you a smile, nodding as she left to go to the bathroom.

You were going to make it right. This was the final push, you would finally tell him how you've felt about him, from the very start of it all up to now when you longed for him.

Still at the water fountain, Eunseok sat there anxiously. He sat there, and in his hand was a box. It was all, and everything he had kept of you, and if ever he lost you —and he prays to God it would never happen— he'd have your memories in this box, his most cherished ones.

6:00 pm, his eyes grew a thin layer of water as he watched everyone else with such loving eyes and sugared laughter. He looked up at the sky, and he thanked it for being so full for that night, full of glittering stars. He took it as a sign that you would come soon, because last night there were no stars at all, and you didn't arrive.

“I'll be your partner.”

He froze in his spot, stare still fixated on the constellations above him.

He stood up, bringing his gaze down to you. You eyed the box he held with both his hands, “Y/n.”

Your eyes lit up, hearing his voice emit your name very faintly. You let him walk closer to you, just enough for you to see his eyes glisten against the fairy lights.

“The flowers, well, I helped Yunjin look for them. They were meant to be for someone else, she won't tell me who. I'm guessing it might be Chaewon since she kept asking me about her, if you remember, Chaewon's my cousin.” —well shit. Isn't it just so easy to be stupid?

“Sorry.” he hurriedly used one of his hands, hesitantly reaching out for the one he's been dying to hold since the day he thought he'd lose you, for the second time.

“Don't be sorry. Please. I should've…” he glanced down at your entwined hands, your hand was cold. “... just told you that…”

Again, he'd struggle to find his words and you'd bring your hand up to his cheek, “Seok?”

“I like you and I think I'm in love with you —no, I am. I…” he was almost breathless, and you'd gently move his head to meet his soft eyes.

“Song Eunseok, I want to be your partner, in the long run, and maybe, till I can no longer write essays and make grammatical errors, will you be my partner —for life?”

Eunseok had always dreamed of going to space and seeing the shimmering little specks of wonder up-close. He knew they were just fiery rocks, but unlike him, who others would describe as still and emotionless, these rocks shined, and they were beautiful. You are so beautiful. He'd finally have a star to himself. His dreams, driven by his childhood imaginations, were coming true, in the form of you.

Finally, he would lean in, finally feeling your plush lips against his. You're as sweet as he imagined.

“Till I can no longer correct you, I'll be your partner.” he uttered against your lips.

Later that night, you two would be seated on the ground, leaning your backs against the base of the water fountain —he'd let you use his arm as a cushion for your back, well, he insisted. The fireworks had already died down, and you two were still there.

You were going through the box he had prepared for you.

“You kept this?” It was the essay, the nameless copy.

“Yeah, but look, look.”

He had written stuff all over it, and drew a bunch of Keroppis. And he had checked it like how your English teacher back then would, with one singular correction where he wrote, you missed a word miss know-it-all, doesn't matter though, i miss you more.

“When did you do this?” he watched fondly as you chuckled, reading through his little notes and doodles.

“I checked that essay the day you rejected my 'partner proposal' for the second time.” you looked at him wide-eyed.

“You… missed me then?”

“Yes?”

Then you'd see receipts of every breakfast coffee, every ice cream meeting —you never called it a date because you were just being professional, every candy packet and every wet wipe purchase he had ever made for you, all stapled together with little tmi's on them, y/n really likes green. i should buy more green shirts.

You chortled. “Don't laugh!”

“No! I just think it's really cute!”

wait holy shit, i wish i could draw well THE WAY SHE SMILED AT ME. i won. fuck everyone.

“You've liked me for that long?” looking into his eyes again, you'd melt into his loving stare.

He had been watching you smile through his sweet little shenanigans that you never would've thought he'd been up to this time. “Yes, I have.”

You bit your bottom lip, still your smile showed through it. With a gulp, you'd place a quick kiss on his lips, making him freeze once again.

With an innocent smile, you went back to rummaging through the box. “Wait, this was my favorite pen. You hid it?”

“I've been using it around you ever since I got it, I thought you'd notice.”

“I just thought you used the same brand. Shame on you, thief.”

You would laugh together for the rest of the night, reminiscing about the past, how you both hid your painfully obvious liking for each other, and then a moment of silence.

You admired the array of stars that shined throughout the body of the sky as you laid your head on his shoulder, his hand holding yours like it was its only purpose.

“Thank God Yuri plagiarized your essay.”

You playfully hit his knee, laughing out, “What do you mean?”

“Just imagine, If I never realized my feelings for you, I'd never make an effort to ask you as my project partner, and we'd stay the same, me still a jerk, and you…”

“Still saying yes to everyone? Well, that makes sense, but, what if we're really meant to end up where we are now?”

“We are meant to be, aren't we?” You felt him place a kiss on your head. “So, what's your opinion on officially being my girlfriend?”

You sat up, startling him a bit, but he'd chuckle once he saw the cheeky grin on your face. “You know how you've always taught me how to say no?”

You giggled when you saw his smile diminish.

“Well, you're no idiotic low-life, so yes, Eunseok, I'll be your girlfriend.” he leans in and hugs you, and you both fall over. “Wait what the fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry.” he helped you get up.

You would get lost in each other's eyes again, and eventually your lips were linked once more. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands on your waist. You pulled away, and you'd laugh at each other's breathless states.

“I honestly don't know why you still asked me to be your girlfriend when I asked you to be my partner for life.”

“I'm an anxious man, okay? but I just really wanted to be sure, and I wanted to ask for myself, that was the initial plan anyways, I can't believe you ruined my plan.”

“Excuse me? you seem to sound so offended now.”

“So what if I am?”

The stars were once only a tiny glimpse of hope for him, now drew the two of you. First two very distant stars, one shone blue and the other shone red, the blue star almost died, but the red star gave some of her flame, and soon they would ignite the fire they would share.

She said yes, finally. —he knew you'd ignite his flame again, and with an unspoken promise to himself —and to you, he'd grow to love you more and more, every single day.

Fin.

would you like to go back?

> take me back

> no :)) (thank you for stargazing with me)

#riize #riize au #riize fanfic #briize #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize eunseok #song eunseok #riize imagines #Spotify #songfic

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intoloopin-archive · 7 months

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♯ ° ؂ A LOOK INTO iNSYNC CITY: LOOPiN INDIVIDUAL FANDOMS RANKED FROM THE TAMEST TO THE WORSE.

♯ ° 10 ؂ (🏆) DRUMPICKS / DRUMDANS (for HANJAE)

Recently named by Hanjae himself -- who was visibly emotional when he realized he had grown a big enough fanbase to demand distinction --, the title Drumpick comes from a mixture of 'drumsticks' and 'guitar picks', the two things multi instrumentalist Hanjae always carries with him. It's also the lovely abbreviation of 'the drummers picks'; as much as they have picked Hanjae, Hanjae, LOOPiN's designated drummer by sport, has picked them as well. In their vast majority Drumdans, as they often go by online, seek almost no trouble and cause no harm in iNSYNC spaces, since Hanjae has next to none anti sentiment in fandom; to everyone these days, is undeniable that his talent in dancing, rapping, acting and even producing at times makes him a precious hidden threat.

The biggest bickering happens amongst Drumpicks themselves, with fans of Hanjae, the Idol and Hanjae, the Actor, constantly disagreeing on who truly supports Hanjae the most -- with his recent acting fanbase being quite loud about their beliefs of being stronger Drumdans.

♯ ° 09 ؂ (☁️) ELMOS (for DYLAN)

To first explain why Elmos was Chihoon's name of choice, is necessary to explain that Dylan has been on a running gag with Sesame Street characters since his debut, specially Big Bird, who was his Halloween costume for The Loop Halloween Party of 2019, his icon on every single social media, and the most referenced character by him out of any piece of media -- even in songs. Naturally, the Chihoon enthusiastics got in on the joke too and started to deem themselves 'Elmos', which to him was hilarious. From then on, they got his blessing to consider that the name of his personal fandom, to the point yellow and red are now often associated with his solo stans.

As it's easy to assume, Dylan is the members who takes his solo fanbase the least seriously, running under the assumption that every LOOPiN fan with him as a bias is in on the joke too. He much rather prefers to acknowledge everyone as an iNSYNC, even if they tell him they're only rooting for him -- which is something some chronically online Elmos can get pretty defensive and dragged about by OT10 stans.

♯ ° 08 ؂ (🌻) SONGSYNCS (for TAESONG)

Songsyncs, an abbreviation for 'iNSYNCs for Taesong', is the only fandom that still keeps the oldschool LOOPiN stan nomenclature the solo fandoms used to adopt back in their early years; and now that Taesong has started to recognize and address them as such, they don't feel a need to change. Taesong attracts fans much like himself, meaning that to outsiders or baby iNSYNCs they can appear to be much calmer then they actually are.

But if you go deeper into the Songsync rabbit hole, you'll see they get extremely protective of Taesong over anything, and even have a code of their own for shading other members and their fanbases; although you will very rarely find them starting a fight, you for sure will see them quietly liking and vague tweeting about any iNSYNC drama, no exceptions.

♯ ° 07 ؂ (🦎) GYUGENIES (for GYUJIN)

Coming into the group years after debut, one of the first questions Gyujin ever got on fan meetings was what should his fans be called -- a heated topic at the time given his polemic addition to LOOPiN, two mere weeks after Beomseok's official departure, that parted the fanbase into his supporters and people who were not thrilled to have him around. He almost immediately picked Gyugenies, 'Gyujin's genies', as they are the people who made his wish of debuting come true. To many, it's by now a consensus that they have become the funniest and most entertaining sub fandom.

On their downside, Gyugenies sometimes have an exclusionist tendency towards some of the members or full group activities -- that sort of 'Gyujin is the only reason LOOPiN finally looked interesting to me, anyway' or 'All the others have too many fans already, let's just focus on him' mentality that OT10s don't appreciate, and has spread a littleto even iNSYNCs with a Gyujin ult or bias. It's clear that if Gyujin isn't involved, don't even bother trying to recuit them for anything regarding LOOPiN; they won't tune in, and won't hesitate to bringing up how long it took for groups fans to like him either.

♯ ° 06 ؂ (🎧) AMWOOS (for MINWOO)

Taking direct inspirations from Minwoo's producer allias BANGMFM, AMWoos -- pronounced A-M-Woos, like the radio frequency that came before FM and served as its base -- have had their bloodthirsty days; if the ranking took place back in 2020 or 2021, they would have been on the Top3 at the very least. But ever since Minwoo stepped up from honorary leader back when Taesong went on his 2021 hiatus, to official leader in 2022 and onwards, the fanbase has in its majority calmed down; although their air of superiority still remains, and it runs strong.

AMWoos have made a point loud and clear from their early days that they believe Minwoo is in a whole lane above any other LOOPiN member, and Minwoo's lack of recognition of them by name isn't even drag worthy to them; on the contrary, they think Minwoo's fanservice towards iNSYNCs, something so unnatural of him, is way less sincere than the quiet appreciation they receive by him in clues. The fandom operates much more quietly these days and, seeming to have fought all fights already years back, are left alone by anyone who's smart enough to not poke the beehive.

♯ ° 05 ؂ (🦔) HOJEOGONS (for HAEGON)

Placed right in the middle comes Hojeogons, Haegon's solo stans and the most 'sink or swim' out of them all; they're either the calmest or the most intense, no in-between. The Hojeo in their name comes from the romanization of the korean word for 'porcupine', Haegon's representative emoji and favorite animal, while the 'gon' is obviously taken from his name -- less obviously from the romanization of 'bear', which correlates to past LOOPiN member Beomseok's old fandom name, Gonbeoklies, as both used to be considered a package deal.

Haegon is an open and emotional book in all senses, which tends to get him in hot waters, and Hojeogons are always the first in line to defend him from being misunderstood. Their growing eagerness to see the youngest of the team interact with Idols other than his bandmates has been a currently sensitive topic, specially after Beomseok left LOOPiN; Beomseok as a whole is a whole can of worm's for Hojeogons, who have grown to pretend he never existed as they understand that's what Haegon would want, something older iNSYNCs find absurd to even consider.

♯ ° 04 ؂ (💎) RARERUKIS (for HARUKI)

Rarerukis, much like AMWoos, have been much bigger menaces in the past -- namely the period in which Haruki began his modeling career and fell into the good graces of Knets back in 2020, when they braced his merits as if they were their own and won the animosity of iNSYNCs with their big ego --, but they're still very much loud. Taking Haruki's diamond stan emoji extremely seriously, they know they have found a rare jewel to stan in him; the 'ruki' being often spoken as 'ruby', the crystal that has one of Haruki's favorite color.

With Haruki taking a quieter, less commercial approach to his career, as well as his more constant reminders of how much he enjoys unity and dislikes any of his bandmates exclusionists, has began a quiet change in Rarerukis pattern of behavior; after all, if there is one thing that's true to them almost universally, is the want to not cause him trouble or tarnish his fleeting reputation. Still, don't you dare say any other member is an IT Boy of any sort -- unless you want to see multiple 'Haruki Being The Ultimate Face Of LOOPiN' threads to invade your timeline for two days, at the very least.

♯ ° 03 ؂ (🤓) WIZZARDOS / WIZZARS (for O.Z)

Given his stage name, the connection drawn between O.z and The Wizard Of Oz was inevitable and surprisingly well received by Zhiming himself, who's added the 🧙‍♂️ emoji to his online sign-offs. Wizzardos are the first ones that come to mind when iNSYNCs think of a pretentious crowd. Good luck trying to express even the tiniest criticism of Zhiming's music or Idol demeanor to a Wizzar -- even the pacifist ones won't let it slide without a lecture. Since O.z also works outside of LOOPiN in a duo with soloist sensation NICO, his fanbase is almost a perfect half and half of iNSYNCS and people with no real interest in the group, a mix that tends to attract tension. They're also credit for popularizing calling LOOPiN stans Insects in petty fanwars.

But even the most hardcore iNSYNCS recognize they are the easiest of the solo fandoms to join, given O.z's polarizing history and the old jokes that are still being made about and towards him even by a percentage of OT10s -- to the point that any vocal Zhiming ult is often presumed to be an Wizzar akgae or at least an akgae sympathizer (because most truly are.) They're also regarded as the easiest people to offend and hardest ones to please.

♯ ° 02 ؂ (🗣️) SOOSOULS / SONNYSIDES (for SEUNGSOO)

Seungsoo has a quite notorious solo fanbase, with a reputation that grows more intense by the year. They're in between names at the moment, with many Soosouls, as they've been deemed since 2019, growing pretty found of Sonnysides, named after Seungsoo's recently updated producer tag, NASONNY. On a study on their crazy loyalty and how hard they regard and promote him as a person and an artist, most point Seungsoo's tendency to 'vent' to fans too openly as the main reason for the parasocial relationships between him and Soosouls growing a little out of control, as they take it as 'fresh' and 'real'.

What iNSYNCs agree is the factor that keeps them at bay and prevents them from being crowned the most annoying bunch of LOOPiN solo stans you can find these days, is how Seungsoo has most times eventually come forward to tell them to cut their antics out when they go overboard; be it by asking them to not trend tags pushing him to go solo or to not pick fights with other people over his 'deserved group positions'. He's clearly not a fan of the Soopremacist corner of his stans, as most call them, but doesn't seem too displeased to have an army ready to defend him.

♯ ° 01 ؂ (🌟) J.J.B.BS (for J.J)

To be a J.J.B.B -- J.J's Babies and Besties, as he baptized them himself in a fancall that's now considered both iconic and cursed LOOPiN media --, tick skin has been a must from day one; after all, Jiahang debuted with the 'filler' title firmly attached to him from LOOPiN's first ever stage. They were the very first solo fandom to be acknowledge, with Jiahang pushing the name himself early in his debut day and onwards as something private, a practice that was frowned upon and backlashed by iNSYNCs strongly, and only helped push the 'it's us against the world' mentality that keeps J.J.B.Bs so united and focused on J.J alone, no exceptions.

As a point of merit, you really can't find a more tight run ship: from the chinese bars to international fans, J.J.B.Bs are regarded as 'the final bosses' of individual events and stream parties, and won't ever let anything involving Jiahang fail. Calling yourself a J.J.B.B in the first place is already admitting you're not too far from being an only stan. The most extreme side of his fandom has been not so kindly nicknamed by iNSYNCs as BBitches, and are in a way or another always at the center of the hurricanes -- provoking other fandoms, making fun of other members and overall being the most frustrating people to encounter when they're on Xu Jiahang defense mode, which is next to always.

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ development .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ extras .#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oc

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lampmanliveblogs · 4 months

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So RayRay just learned that King’s a titan, but more importantly, confirmation that the heart in Belos’ throne room was the heart of the Titan.

And, like… I know that’s the obvious theory to make, and I’m sure that’s what everyone has been saying ever since we first saw it in Agony of a Witch. But for me, I was always hesitant to say that because, well… it’s so small! Yeah, it’s a big heart, but it’s not island sized! Take that heart and compare it to the Boiling Isles. It’s tiny! It’d be like King having a heart the size of a grain of sand!

For my sanity’s sake, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that the heart has shrunk down or shriveled up over time.

But this being me, I can take it a step further and make up some overly complicated theories. Maybe the heart is actually a vestigial organ for Titans. Or maybe the heart starts out with a function in young Titans, but once they reach a certain age and size, it stops growing as their body develops some other mechanism to transport blood around their body.

But yeah, the fact that the heart is still beating this many years after the Titan’s death is pretty metal. Call it The Tell-Tale Heart.

”You know, I just had an interesting idea…” -Me when inspiration for a new fanfic I’ll never finish hits me at 0:16

Ah… is this ”interesting idea” of yours the ”intriguing concept worthy of exploring further” kind of interesting or the ”wow, this grape and mustard ice cream sure is an interesting flavor combination” kind of interesting?

So RayRay’s advice is that instead of throwing his toys at the people he wants to make friend with, he should go talk to them instead and ask them to play. That’s nice. And I’m only a little sarcastic; while The Collector probably won’t listen immediately, all they need is for the Prince of Plastic to actually hear them out for a bit. If King can get it through to them that he actually wants to be their friend, they just gotta stop treating people like toys, then it’s pretty much over for RayRay/Belos/Philip.

The problem is that like I said, The Collector probably won’t listen right away, which gives RayRay here here the time to do… whatever it is he’s gonna do. Not sure what the plan is, but since it was brought up… it might include the Titan’s still beating heart in Belos’ castle.

”Oh, that’s a shorter story.”

Did. Did Eda just make a freaking pun about losing her arm?

Queen shit.

”Oh this? Well, Raine said they were gonna put a ring on my finger no matter what, and you know how competitive I get. Admittedly, I probably took this one a bit too far…”

”But hey, you gotta ’hand’ it to me, I took this loss like champ!”

”So Lili was cutting my hair, but she didn’t have her glasses on, and well…”

”You know the expression ’cost an arm and a leg’? Well, these shoes didn’t cost quite that much, buuuut…”

”New radical weight loss surgery.”

”Sorry about all these jokes, I was just trying to ’disarm’ the tension!”

Eda: ”Wow! Your new palisman is so cool and cute! But why is it a snake though?” Luz: ”I don’t know. If only some smart and preferably but not necessarily handsome liveblogger had made a post talking about the symbolism of snakes and how it applies to my character and palisman, I might’ve known.”

Speaking of palismen, I have another theory. You know Doctor Snuggle’s talking umbrella? That’s actually his palisman.

(and if you don’t know what Doctor Snuggles is… how does it feel having failed at having a childhood? Go look it up, all thirteen episodes are up on youtube and lemme tell you, it is WILD. The fact that the titular Doctor Snuggles has a talking umbrella which is also a pogo stick is the tamest thing in the series. My favorite episode is probably The Turn of Events With the Unwelcome Invaders, that one always freaked me out as a kid. The Fabulous Mathilda Junkbottom is also a good one.)

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house livbelog #toh s3e3 #watching and dreaming

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fujoreads · 9 months

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Umineko: Episode 1 // Review & Thoughts

I was initially NOT going to do this since I played Episode 1 long ago last year, but since I'm doing this from episode 3 to 8, might as well have these.

I have daily logs with my reading sessions' reactions and thoughts, but I'll try to find my highlights and summarize everything!

VNDB | Steam

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

CW: Murder (duh, it's a murder mystery); ableism + dysfunctional/abusive family talk

P.S.: There are youtube previews but they break inside my blog's theme, so they won't look as good, but I refuse not to show them, hmph!

This Episode was definitely more of an introduction, even though we seem to get introduced to new concepts, characters and even plot points with each chapter—just like with Higurashi. They do have the same author, after all.

One of the most common complaint I hear from folks about this episode is that it's too much of a slog at the beginning and while I can understand people's issues with pacing in general, I disagree. Maybe I just read too fast and am used to slow pacing, but I feel like people are just too used to having everything quickly presented to them without having to wait at all.

I see this same complaint with Higurashi and I gotta say: it's exactly BECAUSE it's not scary and mysterious from the bat, that when it does become crazy, you feel it. And it's gradual, even at that stage. You can see that as you go further: so far, this is the tamest episode yet and each ones outdoes the previous.

Anyway: I really enjoyed this as a first episode. It truly felt like an Agatha Christie and then it went 180 on it, just like I was expecting from Ryuukishi.

The incest jokes are fortunately short and quick to end, and I get why they'd bother so many people looking for a serious story, but at the same time I feel like people made too much of a ruckus over it. Battler is a horny teen and hasn't seen his family in 6 years; while that doesn't excuse him being a creep, this is clearly meant to be a funny scene and not be taken seriously. You can either laugh it off, roll your eyes or just ignore it, not drop the VN altogether—though if you can't take some tasteless jokes, you wouldn't last the entire ride for how long it is (lol)

I really like how similar yet so different the MCs from Higurashi and Umineko are. While they are both lovable perverts, Keiichi is quick to paranoia and doubting his friends; meanwhile, Battler shows a strong resolve to never doubt his family to the very end. ...This might age poorly depending on future episodes.

PLOT

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Honestly, the score doesn't matter that much to me anymore. Especially not when I've read further and have been therefore corrupted with more exciting scenes.

This might be the less out-there scenario, and I appreciate it for what it is. This is basically Ryuukishi saying "hold on to your seats, this is gonna be crazy, but for now, just take it all in and get ready."

On the other hand, the family drama got INTENSE. Eva being voiced by Takano's VA makes so much sense, her being so sly and scheming. Poor Natsuhi, she's a bit too serious for her own good, but Eva is just a bully T^T

The scene where the first twilight happens is too much of a banger!!! I was not to control my emotions: I didn't know whether to dance or to grieve/be shocked. Ugh. But I'll talk more about it in my Soundtrack part.

Also, I just fucking love all the subtle (and not so subtle) references to Higurashi. It's really lovely to see a connection to one of my favorite VNs ever.

And those are my thoughts for the plot itself! I'll be talking about other aspects of the game after, but before, we still have the Tea Party and ??? chapters to talk about!

I knew beforehand there would be something akin to the All-Cast Review Session (from Higurashi) but it certainly surprised me. I was expecting a 20-minute read and I got 2 hours of reading AND a direct connection to the main plot??? Bonkers.

Plus, Battler was so badass the whole time, even if I called him an idiot a few times before this.

Oh yeah, and he was a bit of a savage at times LOL

(this hurt even ME)

CHARACTERS

Since this is the introduction, most characters are still very barebones compared to how far they've come where I currently am. HOWEVER! Ryuukishi is a fucking madlad writing characters.

Everyone feels like their own person with their own faults and liking points. Hell, he plays you like a puppet whose strings have been cut masterfully, shaping your opinion of certain characters just for that illusion to be broken along with our tame expectations of them.

Ushiromiya Battler

My cutie patotie, my little meow meow.

He started off a big incestuous weirdo but he's more mature than he shows, being all considerate for people around him and never being malicious. I love him.

Oh yeah, the whiplash I got from hearing Akasaka's voice is no joke-

Ushiromiya Rudolf

He's a dork and not a great father, it seems. I like his character but I know I wouldn't stand him irl. Though to be fair, I would be more like Maria—but we'll get there in a sec.

Ushiromiya Kyrie

MY WIFEEEE 🛐🛐🛐

I just love Kyrie no matter the episode. She's badass, reliable, but always mysterious. I never thought those "cool" mysterious characters were all that until I met her.

Ushiromiya Eva

MY QUEEN, SLAY 💅🏻✨ Jokes aside, she's a fucking great character. She might have a venomous tongue and be very shitty at times, but that's what makes her her.

Ushiromiya Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi is my utmost "can do no wrong" pick. What a wholesome and cute husband, especially to someone like Eva. God have mercy on this man.

Ushiromiya George

George is another cutie patotie, but he makes me a bit suspicious. I don't know, while Battler is just a pure-hearted goofball, George seems a bit more formal, more intentional with his behaviour and acting. Maybe it's just the glasses... Probably.

I gotta say though, some of the phrasing in his scenes with Shannon (or Sayo, I guess) are uuuuhm... I'd call this a red flag. Unless they were both into it, I guess lmao

Ushiromiya Krauss

I still remember my first impression of him:

He doesn't stand out particularly in this episode, so I won't make any comments. He does remind me of one of my uncles. As I said: insufferable.

Ushiromiya Natsuhi

So far (currently on episode 3), this is her episode. Maybe we'll get further character development (I hope so!) but for now, this a Natsuhi-centered episode. She starts off rather traditional and even cruel to servants, but she quickly earned my respect as the leader of the group, when the murders start happening.

Kinzo acknowledging Natsuhi as an Ushiromiya made me tear up 🥺💗

So many queens in this game 👑

Ushiromiya Jessica

I find Jessica a bit lame as a character. Maybe I'm just an adult, but her whole teen drama felt a bit too much. I mean, I get it; hell, it could even be envy... My own mother is mostly a Natsuhi-type and I can relate to Jessica's feeling, but I have grown up more contained—afraid— than her, let's just say. (Growing up autistic + ADHDer and undiagnosed with a overworked mother who now rejects my official diagnosis does things to you lol)

Ushiromiya Rosa

Rosa started as one of my favorite characters. As the younger sibling to a Eva-type of sister, I could relate to her struggles so much. That is, until you see how she is as a mother. I can still sympathize with her own individual struggles and I don't suddenly hate her because she isn't perfect, but again, as someone who grew up undiagnosed and was the "weird thing" that freaked everyone out and shamed my mother for exisiting, Rosa's behavior towards Maria was hard to watch.

Ushiromiya Maria

I will say: Maria's behavior is a bit weird when the occult is involved, but I daydreamed my whole family would die in a traffic accident at 11 so I'd be free of them—who am I to judge?

I could relate SO MUCH to Maria. I swear to God, Maria is so autistic-coded it hurts: ecolalia (the "uu"s, even if it's also supposed to be a moe? trait lol), lack of facial expressions, special interests (occult, Beatrice), not understanding jokes (even if she is a child)…

She's just like me fr. Her meltdown over the Rose reminds me so much of my own childhood, even if I don't remember much. Beatrice should just adopt her, heh.

Also, pretty sure Maria is the one writing these character profiles.

Ushiromiya Kinzo

OOOOOOH BEATORICHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Nothing much to say, he's painful to listen to. I mean, I guess that's intentional so hey, the VA did a wonderful job!

I think this is how my family must feel as I shut myself in my room all day long, only leaving to walk the dog and eating lol

Shannon

As of this episode, Shannon isn't given much spotlight. I'll be commenting more next episode!

For now, she's my little cutie patotie (3)

Kanon

I didn't love Kanon at first, but he’s just a teenage boy, it’s understandable. I still don't love him, but he's grown on me.

Genji

Genji is an interesting character. I don't remember much from him during the first episode, but I basically saw him as the reliable type.

I wouldn't be too surprised if there were any Kinzo x Genji fanart, not that I ship them

Kumasawa

Ah yes, the only able to outdo Battler in the pervert lines.

Kumasawa is a fine supporting character, but we don't see much from her. I mean, there are some things about her during episode 3, but not really? I can't explain without spoiling, so I'll complain more when I get to it.

Nanjo

Nanjo's cute mustache my beloved. That's all.

Gohda

Gohda might be the funniest character, actually. The fact that he is just a random dude caught in the whole mystery is so funny to me.

Other than that, I absolutely hated Gohda this episode. He gets a bit less insufferable for the next episodes, but maybe it's just me sympathizing for the poor guy just trying to do his job.

Atmosphere & Soundtrack

FUCK. I LOVE BEING ABLE TO HEAR.

Seriously, what a divine soundtrack. Especially the ones by zts.

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I just couldn't stop banging my head!

And I've heard Umineko has around 200 tracks—I can't wait to get through all of them <3

I'm kind of sad I don't know what else to say, but I'll just leave this video here. It's what made me pick up Umineko once and for all:

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Ooooh I almost forgot about the Voice Acting, so I'll include it here. I LOVED IT. A lot of VAs from Higurashi came back so it's always fun to notice these little things. It makes the drama much better too.

Art

I've chosen the PS3 sprites. Yes, I know: heathen behavior. But personally, I love them. I know that compared to the OG art, they may not be as expressive, but I just enjoy them a lot more. I've grown to appreciate Ryuukishi's art a lot more as I played Higurashi, don't worry.

The Pachinko version, on the other hand, is fucking awful. Say what you will, I just can't swallow it down.

Writing

I know Ryuukishi's forte isn't his prose, but it's actually not bad at all!

I don't have anything in particular to comment on, so I'll make this one short. Great writing, even if a bit convoluted at times.

Mechanics & Gameplay

This is a weird section, as Umineko doesn't even have choices, let alone "gameplay", but hear me out: I'm playing with the mods.

The visual and sound rain effects, the lip sync, the overall visual effects... chef's kiss! I doubt my enjoyment would be so great without these. Call me spoiled, but they are truly amazing.

Final Thoughts

Phew, I wrote a lot!

Umineko is not an unknown work for those into visual novels so I don't think I have to particularly recommend it, but I am absolutely loving it. No wonder people praise it so much.

My final score for this episode is a solid 8.5/10, aka 4 stars!!

If you want to have an idea whether this is for you, don't drop it until the first murder happens, please! It's considered to have a slow start, so take that into consideration. If you're a fast reader like me, you'll get there in no time!

For reference, the first episode took me around 15~17h to finish, a length somewhat close to Higurashi's Episode 1. Episode 3 and 4 are said to be the longest ones and they average a total of 30h, but when you get there, you'll be hopefully fully immersed. I certainly am, at least!

Well then, I'll be writing my thoughts on Episode 2 soon! Look forward to it~

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Thank you for reading it all to the end! I’m working full-time and looking for another job to make my life possible; would you be so kind and consider giving me a little tip? It can be as low as 3 bucks and it’d make a huuuuuge difference!! If you tip 10€ (or higher), you can dictate my next read and be credited (if you’d like) on that review! Have a nice day!!

#review #visual novel #07th expansion #when they cry #umineko no naku koro ni #blog

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chaotic-nick · 3 years

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note: Its the 1st of November where I live, so I'm posting this heehee This is the first story out of the seven stories/one-shots I've written for MIche week.

Set in a college au where reader is an art student always freaking poor miche out. Yes reader's lines were plucked from real life

Haha all my Miche week pieces are very self indulgent.

All of readers lines have been said by yours truly 👁👄👁👍

WC: 1K ll Warnings: None

Event Organiser: @michezachariasweek

Read Day 2 》》

There was a vibe around her, really. Even when their respective majors kept them in separate buildings, the vibe she carried with her when she was in the cafeteria at the same time as he was kept him on his toes. He was a dentistry student, and her an art student. He thought it was just her being one that kept him curious. Being unable to turn his head away from her.

When he’d see her at the library, he’ll go to the nearest table across hers that still make him appear like a stranger. But when her hands let go of her pen and the hold on her bottle to rub her shoulders, he was already standing up. His cardigan in hand, ready to give it to her. She comically pulls out her oversized black zip-up hoody, almost a blanket on her body. And back to reading, she goes, not a single glance spared at him.

It hurt the inner romantic in him even though he’s said that he didn’t care to push it out his mind.

He’s tried a lot to get her attention. Silently offering her his open umbrella when he realised that it was her who was walking beside him. Then tiny ding on her phone. Briefly read it in silence as her walking slowed to comprehend the message properly. Had her dashing away a minute later. Leaving him in full awe at how she could run in 2-inch heels. And not have her skirt flying.

Also concerned at how her feet could endure such a thing. What a weird thing she was.

Then at the cafeteria. Crazy— how he practised, “Hey, do you wanna sit together?”

And “May I sit next to you, I’m Miche.” Only to be intimated at how black her eyebags have become when she turned around. All of the sturdiness in his tone, melting away and then he was silenced when she said with no hesitation, “One more script rejection and I’m splitting my head open.” To herself. Miche fully believed that her voice would be soft, not— not raspy or deep like that.

Followed by a, “scoop my eyes out for the culinary students to serve on a pretty plate.” how she poked her bubble tea gave him a little jump. Was this the energy he was so captivated by?

He figured that befriending her wouldn’t be a good option at all. Him being the medical student and her wanting to, “Physically evaporate,” Miche heard that himself. And that was the tamest thing he heard her say when he tried to talk to her again. Whatever that meant.

That promise to himself only lasted a week though. Their general subject brings them to the same classroom together. Miche was happy that it’d be like reliving their first years when Nile and Erwin sat next to each other and him just lingering about, Marie was a delightful addition. Always offering her homemade muffins.

It would be fun. A break from their hectic lives as third-year students.

With the windows being wide enough to light the classroom and being open to welcome October’s air, what could make his month better?

Padding footsteps dashing behind the last row of chairs, and the shuffling of their things finally made their middle-aged professor look away from the physical copy of her lesson plan. Lowering her head down, glasses on the bridge of her nose to have a proper look. The smile she cracked was judgement enough that she was one of those professors who got carried away.

“Ah, the infamous (Y/n), you’re in this semester too, then.”

“Hi, prof!” An awkward wave. And then to her classmates and the other majors in the room.

“If we ever get into arguments please feel free to leave the classroom,” was she half-joking? Or half-serious.

With a pout, she followed it up with, “We should get into one now, like honestly, we have fistfights,” laughing when their professor made a fake motion of throwing the board duster at her.

“Be seated now, (L/n)!”

“May I sit here? If it’s not occupied?” It was only when he moved his neck again when he kept it craned at her after looking at her for so long. She smelled nice. “Thank you,” she smiled setting her things on the other vacant table, occupying the seat next to him after.

Somehow, Erwin had sneakily taken his extremely larger than socially excepted water bottle out of his bag. Shoving it in his hands. “You okay?” He was forced to ask, making her look up from what she was reading. Offering his water bottle.

“Thank, but no need!” She was wearing a smile, the type you’d show strangers on the first day together. Quickly turning into a straight line and eyes wide open when she saw it.

Well, given, its size she didn’t need to see it. It was just there. Being cradled like a baby with how he held it.

“You carry that with you every day?”

“Yeah,”

“But why?”

He shrugged. “Just bea—”

“Miss (L/n)!” The professor’s shrill voice calling for her to cite the parallel between the article and today’s commuting problem at the front cut their conversation short.

How she spoke with eloquence, had Miche looking down on the class schedule again. He had a month to try and woo her.

Taglist: @axoxtxhxh @stigandr-the-cat @ghost-party @sinnerofthewalls @takemetofarlanchurch

#mzw2021 #miche zacharias week 2021 #miche zacharias #mike zacharias #nick writes fics #mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharius x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot fic #miche zacharius x you

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theeasternempress · 3 years

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A Message for a Graveless Brother

Summary - On the anniversary of Fives’ death, Echo tells his lost brother of his new family.

Word count - 1.4k

AO3

As happy as Echo was to be traveling across the galaxy with the Bad Batch, he couldn’t deny that his late-night thoughts often made him crave his old life. Rex and the entire 501st had held Echo’s heart for so long and even though Echo was happy where he was, Echo was having difficulty forgetting his roots.

His brothers in the 501st had been everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever needed. There were times when they drove him crazy, but now he could only fondly reflect on those times as the happiest time of his life. If he could go back in time, he’d kick himself for spending so much time reading reg manuals instead of spending those precious moments with his brothers.

Each time he thought of his brothers, he thought of the pain they must have gone through when they believed Echo to be dead. Did they mourn him and if so, for how long? Did they do anything to remember him? Who was the one who cleaned out his bunk and locker? Did they clutch his few belongings tight, fighting back tears?

These thoughts plagued Echo for much longer than he cared to admit, yet the one thought he always cursed was the thought of the heart-wrenching pain Fives had gone through at his loss. He and Fives had been the final members of Domino Squad for so long that he’d been unable to imagine a life without his brother, without his best friend, and he was sure Fives thought the same.

But now, it was Echo who was the final member of Domino Squad. All the pain and sorrow that Fives had been going through, Echo was now going through as well. In a way, it helped Echo feel better connected to the brother he never got to say goodbye to.

The rapid buzzing of the comms system broke Echo from his reverie and returned him to his position in the cockpit. When Echo checked the comm line, the communication number matched the one that Rex had given him on Bracca. Everyone else on the ship was asleep, so it would give Echo a private moment to talk to his old Captain. Echo accepted the comm request and impatiently waited for Rex’s figure to appear, despite it only taking seconds.

Rex was hunched over, draped in the poncho that he’d been wearing in Cid’s parlor, with a weary look on his face. Echo knew that Rex was in serious need of some rest, but he also knew that Rex never rested until all of his work was complete.

Echo fought the urge to salute Rex, instead saying, “It’s good to see you, Rex. Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s alright I just … just wanted to talk to you about something,” Rex replied, the tired roughness to his voice making him sound decades older.

Echo stayed silent as Rex continued, “It’s been a year since Fives’ death and … I don’t know, I felt like I had to contact you to talk about him. Do you remember the plaque I gave you, the one that I painted his helmet insignia on?”

Of course Echo did. The plaque was nothing more than a roof tile ripped off of a Kaminoan building that had been meticulously painted with Fives’ helmet insignia. Rex had given the plaque to Echo before he left with the Bad Batch as a way of having both Fives and Rex with him. The plaque was small enough that it could easily be tucked into a pocket, so Echo always had it on him.

Echo pulled the plaque out of his pocket and put it within view of Rex. Even through the slightly distorted hologram, Echo could see Rex’s expression soften and his shoulders drop at the sight of the plaque in Echo’s hands.

“I always have it with me, Rex. I think of it almost as a good luck charm … as a way of having both you and Fives with me,” Echo spoke softly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the circumstances of Fives’ death,” Rex began with a shaky breath, “But I’m damn sure that every day that goes by, I thank Fives more and more for his warning about the inhibitor chips.”

“He was the best brother anyone could ask for. He’d be happy to know he died to save his brothers,” Echo said wistfully.

Echo and Rex spent the next hour talking of Fives with Echo relaying his favorite memories of his favorite brother while Rex filled Echo in on all of the time Echo had lost with Fives. Eventually, a familiar female voice called out for Rex, leaving the two brothers to say a hasty goodbye before ending the transmission.

With Rex gone, Echo was left alone with the shiny plaque held tight in his hands. The paint job on it was immaculate, and Echo almost couldn’t believe how perfectly Rex had been able to recreate Fives’ helmet. Echo softly traced the blue design before pressing it to his forehead and sighing. He’d never be able to rest his helmet against Fives’ in the way they did after every successful mission, so this would have to do.

The memory of his lost brother reminded Echo of his new brothers and little sister. He’d had his entire life ripped away from him by the Techno Union, but his new family was helping him rebuild his life brick-by-brick. It was taking time, but they gave him more patience than he thought he deserved.

It made Echo wonder, what would Fives think of his new family? Would he be upset with him for not staying with Rex and the 501st, or would he be happy that he’d found a new family on his own?

Staring at the plaque in his hands, Echo knew that Fives would only want whatever would make Echo the most happy. He’d been like that their entire lives, one time going so far as to steal a bag of candy for him after Echo off-handedly mentioned craving some. Echo berated him for the act, but smiled every time he unwrapped a piece of candy. The sweet memory still made Echo smile.

With his gaze locked on the familiar blue paint, Echo began to whisper, “I miss you so much, Fives. I have a new family now and even if they’ll never be the same as Domino Squad, they’ve given me a home.”

Echo paused to collect himself while carefully choosing his next words, “I think you’d like them. I mean, Crosshair is kind of a jerk and I know you two would butt heads, but I’d still trust him with my life. Wrecker, on the other hand, you would absolutely adore. He’s almost as crazy as you, but he’s got a heart of gold. He’s a gentle giant if I’ve ever met one.”

“Hunter is our leader, our sergeant, and is definitely the tamest out of the four of them. Not like that’s hard,” Echo laughed to himself, “He’s a good brother who puts a lot of the team’s worries on his shoulders, too many of them if I’m being honest. Tech … he’s the hardest to describe. He and I work together the most and I enjoy his company. We definitely bicker a lot, but at the end of the day he’s still a good brother. We’d be in a lot of trouble without him.”

“I think your favorite would be Omega, though. She’s our little sister, and I know you would have loved to meet her. She’d laugh at every single joke you’d make, even if it was one of your stupid ones that only you thought were funny. You … you would be a good older brother to her.”

The thought of Fives being unable to meet the brothers and sister he so dearly loved brought tears to Echo’s eyes. He knew they’d all jokingly complain about the addition of another reg to their team, but Echo had a strong feeling that Fives would easily find a place among them. Echo wiped away his tears, replacing them with the smile that he knew Fives would want from him.

With the blue of hyperspace swirling around him, Echo allowed himself to tilt his head back and try to fall asleep. He replaced the grief at the life he had lost with Fives with replays of his favorite memories of Fives, Rex, Domino Squad, and the 501st. With those nostalgic memories in his mind, Echo fell asleep with a soft smile on his face.

Unbeknownst to a sleeping Echo, a familiar hand now rested on his shoulder as the ghost of Fives stared fondly at his slumbering brother.

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb echo #echo #captain rex #fives #hurt/comfort #no plot just feelings #tcw #the clone wars #my writing

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dweemeister · 3 years

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The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

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For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T #The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T.#Dr. Seuss #Roy Rowland #Peter Lind Hayes #Mary Healy #Hans Conried #Tommy Rettig #Allan Scott #Stanley Kramer #Frederick Hollander #Rudolph Sternad #Cary Odell #William Kiernan #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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detroitbydark · 5 years

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can we pretty please get a fluff blurb based on harrison giving you his varsity jacket that he wore in his insta post? please?

No warnings here. This is probably the tamest, most G rated things I’ll ever write and I absolutely love it. This is the first time in probably a month where I’ve really enjoyed writing something and felt like some of me was actually in it. Thank You!!

So Here is the 1950′s AU no one asked for but I gave them regardless. I know it probably wasn't what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

You glanced at your math book as the Wurlitzer across the dining room swapped out one 45 for the next. The Five Satins has just finished crooning on about what happened ‘In The Still of the Night’. As the next record falls into place you glance nervously past your milkshake to the teens a few booths down. You have to bite your lip to keep from sighing.

Harrison Osterfield, star athlete in just about every sport he went out for, sat with a few buddies and their girls. You tried to be inconspicuous as you watched him smiling and joking. You’d been borderline obsessed with him since the 4th grade when your family had moved to town and bought the dinner, back when he’d been the only kid that had made the shy little girl feel welcome on her first day in a new school. Of course, you’d faded to the background of everything soon enough. You’d been so timid at the time. Even as you’d both grown older and Harrison’s star had begun to shine he still offered you a smile in the hallway when you passed.

It was such a cliche. The bookworm in the love with the football captain.

The first few bars of the next song had you laughing and shaking your head as you glanced back down at your textbook.

“Why do fools fall in love, Frankie?” You muttered as Frankie Lymon continued to ask his questions. Somehow when Harrison was in the dinner the jukebox always seemed to play something that struck you just so. Coincidence, you were sure.

You closed your book as you glanced at the clock on the wall. Your shift was going to start in just a few minutes and you needed to put your school work away and get your apron on. As if to emphasize the point your Dad poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Anytime now, Peaches…”

You felt your cheeks flush bright pink as you heard the laughs erupt from the other table.

“Peaches? I would just shit twice and die!” One of the girls, Betty Markle, explained from her spot pressed against Harrison’s side. When you dared to glance over, cheeks burning with embarrassment, Harrison catches your eye and for a split second it was just you, those fabulous baby blues, and your skipping heart.

And then Betty ruined it.

“Run along…Peaches.” She cackled, shooing you along with pristine hands and perfect fingernails. The kind that had never worked a day in their life. The kind that got to hold the hand of the star quarterback.

Making sure to keep your eyes averted you made your way back into the kitchen, hands fulls of homework and your empty cup.

“Everything ok, Peaches?” Your Dad asks with a cock of his head.

“I’m good, Daddy, just trying to figure out this math” you lied smoothly.

“You’ll get it Sweetheart. Lord knows your smarter than your old man.”

You give your dad a soft smile and a roll of your eyes before you slip your apron on and tie a loose bow in the back. Before you head out you slide your arms into your old worn cardigan. It was fall and a chill was in the air.

“Peaches, baby, Wanda is going on break can you help her with her tables?”

You give a nod as you scan the room. There’s four occupied tables with Harrison’s group being the closest to you. You start with the farthest hoping Wanda would be done with her break before you’d get to them.

The regulars smile at you as you refill waters and take orders. You bring a sundae out for the Horowitz’s with two spoons. They were well into their 80’s and honestly the cutest couple you’d ever seen. You hoped someday you had something even half as amazing as what they seemed to have. Mrs Horowitz chatted with you in her thick Austrian accent while her husband made short work of the whipped cream on top of the sundae, pushing the lone red cherry in her direction.

“When are you gonna find a boy to share a sundae with?” She asks conspiratorially. You shake your head. You hoped she wasn’t trying to set you up with her nephew again.

“Not on my to-do list right now.” You say, smiling shyly. You watch her eyes dart behind you.

“I think that young man over there would do.”

Without a second thought you glance over to find Harrison smiling your way. Your head snaps back quickly and the elderly woman chuckles.

“He probably just wants some more fries.” You explain quickly. “He always gets more than he orders to start with” you’re babbling now, praying that Wanda comes back. Mrs Horowitz hums as you continue “in fact, last week he came in and had two malts and three orders of fries. I mean, I don’t know where he puts it all…” you trail off feeling foolish and the woman gives you a soft smile.

“Maybe you should go see what he needs, no?”

You take a fortifying breath before you nod and turn. Your shoes squeak on the linoleum and you try to hide the cringe that hits you. Your shoes weren’t as pretty or as shiny as the other girl’s saddle shoes and weren’t nearly as trendy as the neat ballet flats you’d seen Audrey Hepburn wearing, the same kind Betty and her friend were wearing now as you approach their table.

For the most part the looks that great you are vaguely friendly but there’s a glint in Betty’s eye as you turn your attention to Harrison that puts you ill at ease.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing on that algebra assignment?” He asks throwing you off. Of course you knew he was in your class but you’d never realized he noticed you in it. You fiddle with a button on your cardigan.

“I mean, I think I’ve got it but-“

“I could use some more water.” Betty’s face is sour as she asks. She points to her glass as if you couldn’t see that it was half full.

“I’m sorry” you stutter out, turning quickly to grab a pitcher of water. You hear Harrison’s voice, gruff and irritated but you can’t make out what he’s saying. Betty’s face looks even more pinched when you get back, like she’s sucked on a lemon. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest but you don’t care because Harrison is all smiles when he looks your way.

“So are you going to the game Friday?” He asks and you think it’s a real nice thing he’s doing trying to make conversation, be friendly. He must not realize that girls like you don’t go to football games. You shake your head, chew your lip (a horrible nervous habit your Mom had hated).

“I really need to work on the essay for English. Footballs not really my thing.” You try to explain. His smile falters. His buddies and the girls have begun chatting, seeming to have forgotten you, except Betty staring daggers. If looks could kill…

“Aww, come on Y/N. You should give it a try. You might have fun.” You watch him snap his fingers as if he’s just been hit with a brilliant idea. “If you come to the game I’ll let you borrow my practice jersey to wear.”

The table goes quiet with the exception of the strangled sound Betty makes in the back of her throat. You feel your face flushing as you try to stammer out an answer. How was he asking you to wear his jersey? As far as you knew Harrison Osterfield didn’t even know you existed. Those blues are probing you, like he’s willing you to say 'yes’. He runs a hand through his hair and, God above, you nearly swoon at his attention.

Suddenly there’s a wet splash and water and chocolate malt is splashing across the table. The pitcher is laying on its side as you suck in a sharp breath at the cold shock you’ve received. Your skirt is soaked and your white blouse is clinging to you in a way that makes you feel embarrassed and ashamed.

“What the hell, Betty!” Harrison is growling at the girl who holds her hands up.

“It was an accident Haz. Butterfingers, ya know.” You can’t even look her in the face. “I’m sure Y/N knows it was an accident, right?” her voice is saccharine sweet and as fake as the color of her hair.

“Y/N…” you don’t give Harrison a chance to say anything as hot tears prick at your eyes. You glimpse Wanda pulling her apron on from the corner of your eye. Her knowing gaze is already focused in on the table. She doesn’t try to stop you as you rush back into the kitchen and the small break room.

“I think it’s time ya’ll got your check.” She says firmly as Harrison watches the kitchen door swing on its hinges.

———

You sit in the back stoop for far longer than you should. Your dad stops out to check on you and ruffle your hair. You didn’t have a change of clothes and the chill of the air makes you shiver but it’s also cooling the hot rush of embarrassment you feel each time you think about what happened earlier. Wanda gave you the all clear after the group had cashed out but here you sat, not ready to go back to the scene of the crime.

If the ground could swallow you up whole you would happily allow it. You dread thinking about school the next day, about the smirk that Betty’s going to be wearing and the whispers and laughs you’ll hear in the halls. You let your head fall into your hands as you try to forget about everything.

“Um….hey, Y/N?” The sound of Harrison Osterfield’s voice has you sitting straight up. You move to stand and go back inside.

“Please don’t go" His voice is pleading.

“Why, so you can laugh at me too?” You feel anger rising, flaming to life in your chest. Harrison takes in your narrowed eyes, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I come in peace, yeah? That was a messed up thing Betty did. I’m really sorry. Nobody else thought it was funny.”

Just as soon as the anger roared to life it’s flickering out. Your shoulders slump and you smooth your skirt. Your cardigan had taken the brunt of the milkshake while your blouse had gotten a couple splashes of chocolate but mostly the icy water. You’d be lucky if you could get the stains out of the cardigan. Wanda had mixed up a “fool proof" stain cleaner in the kitchen and it was currently soaking in a pot on the counter next to a pot of your dad’s famous chili. You shiver slightly as a soft breeze ruffles the hem of your skirt.

“I suppose I can’t blame her for being mad” you say towing at one of the steps “her boyfriend offered another girl his jersey. Of course she was mad.”

You jump when Harrison barks out a laugh. He quickly sobers when he sees you huff.

“Y/N, Betty isn’t my girlfriend. We’re not together. Not saying that’s not what she wants but I…” He takes a couple steps toward you, stopping at the bottom of the stoop. “Come on, you’ve got to realize I’ve been trying to ask you on a date for months.”

You try to stop your mouth from dropping open because, for all your smarts, that possibility had never even crossed your mind. Harrison gives you a lop-sided smile as he comes to stand one step below you. His eyes are nearly level with yours and you allow yourself a moment to appreciate how they crease at the corners when he smiles.

“I was so sick last week-“

“I just thought you liked fries…?” You can hear the hesitancy in your voice. Harrison’s fingers bump against yours and you look down as he takes one of you hands in his, rising to the same step you’re on. His fingers are rough and calloused. His class ring is cool against your skin.

“After last week, I could die happy without ever eating another fry in my life. I just wanted to see you and… God, I was trying to get the courage up to ask you to come to the game but I just couldn’t.”

It’s your turn to laugh. Why would Harrison need courage to ask you anything? You ask him as much.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Harrison’s free hand brushes against you cheek and goosebumps run amok on your arms. He misinterprets it and before you can correct him he’s pulling his Letterman jacket off and draping it around your shoulders. It swallows you whole but its broken in and warm. And it smells like how you always thought he’d smell, leather and after shave, smoke from a bonfire. “You are so beautiful and smart and…. I can’t keep my eyes off of you. The guys have been ribbing me forever about it. You really didn’t know?”

You shake your head dumbly. You’d missed that one for sure.

“So you want me to go to the game friday…”

“And wear my jersey.”

“And wear your jersey.”

“Because you like me.”

“Loads” He gives you that 10,000 watt smile and you return it with a shy one of your own. “And afterwards you’ll let me take you for a bite to eat or to a bonfire or…. I don’t care. I just want to spend time with you.”

You’re Mom had read you fairy tales as a little girl. You’d loved them but you’d never once thought you’d be in one. That’s what this was. “OK.” You say finally. He looks at you like he’s won the lottery. You’d only ever dreamed he’d be looking at you like he was now.

“Can I walk you home?” He’s nearly vibrating with excitement and you feel the same way.

“Let me run inside and see if I can find a sweater to wear.”

Harrison shakes his head, “Just wear my jacket. It looks good on you.”

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield blurb #haz osterfield #haz osterfield fic #dear Anon

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ograndebatata · 4 years

Text

Stepping the Steps

Note: So... this is another of the works in my fic series regarding the relationship between Victor and Ash Delgado in my AU, where, among other things, Ash is a much better person and genuinely loves Victor.

That said, some of those other things are referenced here in this ficition, most notably the different background my Ash has, including the different points in time at which she learned magic.

I hope you enjoy this other look at what their relationship is like in my AU.

With that said, let us begin.

///

Stepping the Steps

The Kingdom of Cordoba, March 14th, Year 9205 of the Ever Realm Calendar…

“So…” Victor whispered soothingly, drawing her further into his lap with the hand he had on her hip, his other one holding a lock of her brown hair as he softly caressed its full length. “Now do you want to tell me what happened?”

Despite the comfort of sitting on her husband’s lap, his warmth seeping into her as she listened to the soft lull of his heartbeat, Ash let out a long, heavy sigh, the remnants of her tiredness and tension briefly flaring stronger as the day’s events came back to her mind.

“I’d say that’s a ‘no’,” he quipped, his green eyes twinkling as he smirked playfully at her.

Despite herself, Ash couldn’t help but chuckle, both because of his remark and of how silly Victor looked, giving her that smirk when he still had streaks of her red lipstick smeared all over his face, a result of the hungry kiss she had mashed to his lips shortly after crossing the door in an attempt to drain her frustration away, which had then lead to several more of those, which had left him looking like he was wearing war paint.

His playful smirk melting into a tender smile, he added, “If you really don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop it. Cross my heart.”

Curving her lips into a smirk herself, she turned her face up to his.

“With my head resting on top of it?” she deadpanned. “I can’t imagine how.”

Obvious though the joke was, an isolated chuckle blew past Victor’s pursed lips.

Her voice and expression softening, she added, “Besides, I’d rather you kept holding me.”

His smile still in place, Victor pressed his left hand slightly more firmly into her hip, removing his right one from her hair to rest it on her shoulder as he sank further into their armchair.

“Anything for you, mi amor.”

Giving him a smile of her own, Ash settled further into her spot, a warm flutter flowing through her as he kissed her hair. The feeling growing stronger as he rubbed a circle over her shoulder, she sighed in delight, the few leftovers of the day’s negativity slowly ebbing away, this time staying gone even as she recalled how much her temper had built up, how many times she’d had to hold herself in check to ensure she wouldn’t do something she’d regret. The only good thing to come out of it was that, as much as her customers had complained, they had still paid extra for the more complex magical service she had provided. Now she and Victor would have a bit more to fall back on if they had financial trouble in the future.

Still, he had been right when she said she didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to drop the matter and stay in his lap with him holding her, so she could keep basking in his hug, at least until their daughter woke up from her nap and called out to them, or until they got hungry enough to eat the dinner Victor had just finished cooking when she arrived, which now lay in the stove.

But at the same time, doing so seemed unfair. More than him being curious, she had felt how worried he’d been by the time she arrived. She had seen it on the lines of his face, had heard it in his voice when he’d asked her if anything happened, had felt it even as he put it aside and yielded to the kisses she had claimed from him in an attempt to dispel the day’s frustrations.

She might not be looking forward to reliving the matter, but for him, she could do it.

Shifting in her spot, she drew in a long, deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so. He rubbed his thumb over her shoulder again once she inhaled as deeply as she could, then took his right hand off of her shoulder and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek as she exhaled, the combination of feelings making peacefulness bubble up within her.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned away from his chest and began talking.

“To get the main thing out of the way, I also got surprised that this matter would be so difficult to solve. But it turned out there was an unexpected issue with clearing that house of vermin.”

Victor nodded.

“Makes sense,” he said, as he shifted his right hand to her knees. “For a malvaga as talented as you to take a whole day to disinfest a house, those must have been some mean pests.”

A few laughs leaving her at the word choice - deliberately low ones so that she wouldn’t wake up Carla - Ash good-naturedly rolled her eyes.

“You have no idea…”

Her tone turning more serious, she added, “Though mind you, the worst part of it was the nasty family spat.”

He smirked once more, his eyes twinkling again.

“Somehow, I get the feeling you’re not talking about the termites…”

Giving him another playful eye roll, Ash replied, “Yes and no.”

Seeing the quizzical curl of Victor’s eyebrow, she explained, “There was indeed something unusual about those termites. At least the ones I dealt with today. I didn’t keep any from the colony I got rid of four days ago, so I can’t confirm if they are of the same kind. But at least those I got rid of today had been fed some potions that boosted both their appetite and their reproductive rate, not to mention made them much tougher and more difficult to repeal with magic.”

Silence settled between them after her explanation, Victor blinking slowly as he took in the full implications of her words.

“Oh…” it was all he could manage.

A smidge of her irritation returning, Ash added, her eyes slightly narrowed, “It took three hours to make a potion powerful enough to deal with them, and then about another hour to make sure the whole colony was eliminated. And then Milco Quiroga wanted to know where the termites came from, so I cast a spell to find out… and it turned out they came from his neighbor.”

Victor snorted at her words, a few chuckles following the sound as if she had reminded him of something funny.

“Well, there’s a nasty neighbor feud if there was one…” Suddenly trailing off, his eyes widening, he added, “But how…”

“How does that make it a family spat, you ask?” Ash cut in. “Because Milco Quiroga’s neighbor is also his older brother. Apparently, Papá Quiroga left half of his original property to each of his sons in his will when he died. But Coti Quiroga wanted his younger brother’s half for himself because he liked it better. So he studied some magic, made a few potions, fed them to those termites, and unleashed them on his brother’s property so they’d destroy his brother's house.”

Victor’s eyelids crept shut at her remark, almost touching before they parted with the same slow speed.

“Well, I’ve heard of being eaten out of house and home, but this is ridiculous.”

Another burst of chuckles surging from her, Ash lightly smacked his chest.

“Only you to make me laugh…”

A faint coo rose in response; both Ash and Victor froze, their eyes immediately turning to the half-closed bedroom door behind and to the right of the armchair. Another one followed, but no cry or call of any other kind came forth. Carla was still asleep.

Their stances loosening as if something inside them had melted, the couple turned back to each other.

“What happened when the younger Quiroga found out?” Victor asked.

Her eyes narrowing once more, Ash explained, “Things got physical.” Seeing the slight widening in Victor’s eyes and the way his lips parted slightly, she quickly added, “Don’t worry, they didn’t try to hurt me. But I had to use a paralyzing spell to get them off of each other, and then their families decided to call royal guards to handle the matter. I waited for the guards to arrive, for safety’s sake, but then I had to spend an eternity answering every possible question they could come up with...”

Her sentence trailed off into a sigh, her tiredness briefly flaring stronger. The actual interrogation had been bearable enough, but what had come before… Between trying to keep the two brothers from tearing each other apart and doing so while sticking to the tamest magic she could use while still making sure they wouldn’t kill each other, it was a wonder she hadn’t exploded.

Wordlessly, Victor drew her back into his chest, his right hand moving back to her hair, this time running it over its full length, his other hand sliding up slightly to settle on her shoulder, pulling her further into him.

“I’m sorry, Pluma,” he whispered, his fingers threading through her brown locks.

I know. Ash replied without any words, once more simply nestling into him, savoring the gentleness of his embrace, the genuine way in which he held her, no sense of judgement coming from him. It had been something she had grown to love about him from early on - the way he accepted all of her, both the softer side she only ever displayed to those she loved and the hardened, battle worn one that had built up on her by years of hardships. However she felt, he was always there for her, doing the best he could.

As bad as any of her days was, having him by her side in the end already made them better. If she lost him also...

A shudder ran through her at the thought. The idea of losing him or Carla, nevermind both, was far too horrible to think about, and yet came to her mind far too often.

Sensing her distress, Victor pulled her even closer to him, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek before moving his hand from her shoulder to her cheek. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, his body turned rigid underneath hers, as if a scary thought had struck him as well. Her heart skipping a beat, Ash leaned away from his chest to look into his wide eyes, a hint of fear in them.

“The guards…” he began. “Is there any chance one of them was from the Evergrowing Forest?”

Ash rested a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” she replied. “I made sure to check. They were all ordinary guards. They may be scumbags anyway, but none behaved like one in front of me, not even the one who seemed to recognize I was a malvaga.” A hint of a frown returned to her face. “They did tell me the king might ask me to testify later, but that’s it.”

“The king?” Victor echoed, his eyebrow curling again.

Ash nodded.

“The leading guard said the situation was serious enough that King Juan Ramón will get personally involved." Her eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and dread creeping through her. "He certainly wasn't kidding. Had those termites been left unchecked, they might have destroyed much more than Milco Quiroga's house."

Victor's eyes briefly widened, an echo of her feelings whispering from them. She knew without asking that he was painting the same picture that had come to her mind.

"Anyway, I’m not sure when he’ll start, but whenever that is, he may call me for the trial," she went on before either could add more details to that image. They weren't needed, at least for now, though Ash would be sure to bring them up if she was called to testify.

A long sigh flowed out of Victor’s lips, a look of resigned unease settling into his eyes. From it alone, Ash knew that he was remembering his stint as an Avaloran guard, brief though it had been, and already dreading that this trial might end up being like those he’d been involved in during his time of service. From what he’d told her, they were a grand bore, a headache to set up, and nerve-wracking on the side of victims, defendants, and witnesses alike. Merely thinking about it threatened to make her head hurt.

Still, being called to testify on a trial was certainly better than being the one on trial. As long as the second thing didn’t happen, she supposed she couldn’t complain too much.

“If he does so, I hope he does it soon,” Victor replied, tenderly pressing his lips to her cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper as he added, “I’m only sorry I won’t be able to go with you.”

“So am I,” Ash replied with a whisper of her own.

Sitting through that trial would also be much easier if she could do it with Victor beside her, or even with him waiting for her outside. But Carla was too young to be subjected even to waiting outside with him, and they didn’t have anyone they trusted enough to look after her. It was better for their daughter if he stayed home, and Ash knew Victor understood so just as well as she did.

“Hopefully the Quiroga brothers will stay in separate cells until then,” Victor added. “For their sake, anyway. From what you say, they may not make it to the trial if they're placed together.”

That’s for sure. Ash thought, remembering the livid glares she had seen the two brothers shooting at each other even as they were handcuffed and hauled away in separate wagons. If looks could kill, both would be dead already.

Forcing down one more stab of annoyance at yet another unpleasant memory, she said, “Enough about that. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Victor replied, an easy-going smile on his lips. “And if you’d rather do that instead, we can also not talk at all.”

Her posture softening, Ash started to settle back into him; then, she froze as she saw Victor’s eyes lighting up like they always did when he’d had an idea.

“Though now that you mentioned it, there is something I really wanted to tell you…” he said in a mock-conversational tone, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Shame on you for getting me sidetracked.”

Straightening herself as she turned to look at him, Ash’s lips curled into a mock-evil smirk.

“Shame on me, you say?” she drawled. “I’d watch your tongue if I were you. Because it would also be a shame if you ended up sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Shrinking slightly into himself, Victor looked up at her, his bottom lip protruding slightly in an exaggerated pout.

“You wouldn’t have the heart to do that, Pluma…” he murmured in a mock-pleading voice, the total lack of fear in his eyes conveying that he fully believed his words.

Ash’s mock-evil smirk only widened, her eyebrows turning into a straighter line as she tried to look as theatrically nefarious as possible. Victor’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.

“You know me a bit too well sometimes,” she fake grumbled even as she tried not to break into a smile.

Victor shrugged in affected innocence, something about the spark in his eyes combined with the smears of lipstick on his face making the expression hilarious and yet endearing.

“But seriously, what is it you wanted to tell me?” she insisted, punctuating her question by leaning slightly closer to him.

He started opening his mouth as if to answer her question, but not a sound came out before he clapped it shut again, his eyes widening slightly as a familiar glint flashed in them. Ash pulled back slightly at the shift in expression, cocking an eyebrow. She knew without asking that he’d just had an idea, but what sort of idea could it be?

“Actually, I think it will be better if you see for yourself,” Victor replied as if reading the question in her eyes.

Ash’s eyebrow formed an even bigger arch, puzzlement creeping even further up within her. She knew Victor well enough to see that this time he wasn’t deliberately teasing her, that he had indeed genuinely thought it would be better if she saw for herself. But what could be so special as to make it that much better for her to see instead of just listening about it?

As always, her face was an open book to him, as he held her left hand between both of his’.

“Trust me,” he whispered. “You’ll like it.”

Ash held Victor’s gaze at those words, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers. Then, she allowed the smile to return to her face.

“Very well.” She slid off of his lap. “Show me.”

He gave her hand a tender squeeze in response, caressing the back of it with his thumb, and then pushed himself off of the chair, Ash’s curled eyebrow suddenly returning as she saw him heading to their bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she asked as Victor got to the bedroom’s door.

It was a dumb question, she knew. They had built this cabin together, and thus knew where every room was, but what could he possibly have to show her that he would be keeping in there?

“I told you, I think it will be better if you see for yourself,” Victor replied as he raised his hand to the doorknob, a secretive smile on his face.

Impatience poking through her puzzlement, her voice hardened an edge as she asked, “Just what are you talking about?”

He pushed the door open.

“You’ll see.”

///

Getting one last look at his wife’s face, Victor stepped into their bedroom, careful not to make noise as he stepped over to Carla’s crib. Despite being about to wake her up, he moved as silently as he and his wife usually did, to ensure they wouldn’t lose the habit of minimizing any potential disturbance to their daughter’s sleep. Granted, she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping at this time to begin with, but today she had been restless enough that Victor had to lull her into a nap to be able to cook dinner. They couldn’t repeat this too often, but every once in a while shouldn’t be so bad.

At least, he hoped so. But he didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with babies. Granted, he had helped to look after Princess Isabel sometimes when she was a baby, and had near single-handedly looked after Arcelia for months before being replaced by a nurse, but the younger Princess of Avalor and his half-sister had only been two babies, hardly enough to qualify him as experienced. And even if he had looked after more babies, he didn't have the best of role models for fatherhood, so he might be permanently incapable on that front despite his best efforts.

Grimacing like he had gulped a mouthful of vinegar, Victor pushed the flood of bad memories triggered by the thought to the back of his mind, forcing his focus to the picture before him - Carla nestled into her crib, her brown hair framing her face, which was the picture of peace despite her brief earlier cry, worried about nothing as her best friend, Cuddly, lay beside her. Unable to hold back a smile at the view of his daughter hugging the brown, black-speckled stuffed cat, Victor reached down into the crib and ran the tips of his fingers over her cheek.

“Carla,” he murmured as he stroked her face. “It’s time to wake up, mi hija.”

Carla’s only reaction was a soft gasp. Victor repeated the gesture, just as gently as before, wondering how many more times he’d have to do it before it was effective.

He stroked her face three more times before getting any sort of meaningful reaction. Then, as the fourth reached its end, a frown settled on her face, joined by a discontented mumble as she opened her eyes.

“I know,” Victor whispered to her as he tucked her hair away from her face. “Leaving dream land can be difficult.”

Blinking towards the ceiling, Carla let out a yawn, her violet eyes screwing shut as she did so. Then, the bleariness of a baby who had been enjoying sleep in her gaze, she looked up at him.

“I understand,” he went on, his voice still low and gentle. “Sleep is nice. But you need to wake up now."

Carla only blinked once more, rubbing at her eyes as she let out another yawn, Cuddly slipping from her embrace as she did so. As gently as he could, Victor drew her up and settled her into his arms.

“You can go back to sleep soon. But now it’s time for dinner and to see Mamá. She’s arrived already.”

Carla squinted at his words, seemingly struggling with either the urge to fall asleep or his pushiness in keeping her awake. But then, her gaze became more alert, as if something he said had caught her attention.

“Mamá,” she mumbled, her voice now more awake.

“Yes, mi hija, Mamá’s home,” he said, though he wasn’t sure of just how much she understood. “And we have something to show her, remember?”

“Mamá!” Carla echoed, smiling at the word.

“That’s right!” he repeated, not changing his tune. “We’re going to see Mamá now and show her your surprise!”

He didn’t know just how much Carla understood of his sentence, but she still cried cheerfully as he carried her out of the bedroom.

He caught a glimpse of Pluma out of the corner of his eye, and saw her holding back another puzzled look before he turned right and took the long turn around the end of the table that was farthest from her. Even without seeing her, Victor already knew that she was wondering how Carla could be related to what he wanted to show her, as well as why he was taking the longer route around the table.

Did he look forward to the happiness he knew she’d feel once she had her answer...

“Mamá!” Carla called as he finished his turn around the table and started approaching Pluma, her small arms reaching to her mother.

The lingering puzzlement on Pluma’s face broke into a smile, warmth filling her light-blue eyes.

“Hello, Mi Luz,” she murmured as she started to slide her legs off of the armchair.

“Wait, mi amor!” Victor called as he stopped in his tracks, right as her feet met the floor. “Don’t get up!”

Pluma’s eyes widened at his sudden call, and a slight shifting against his chest told him that Carla had turned her face up to look at him. Too late, he wondered if he had been loud enough to scare her and make her cry, barely managing to avoid a wince at the thought. Fortunately, he didn’t feel her squirming or tensing up, nor did he hear her making any sound, so it must have been tolerable enough for her.

“Trust me, it’s for a good reason,” he quickly added, his eyes locked on Pluma's, his voice lower and as soothing as he could make it while still being sure she heard him.

He knew Pluma wouldn’t like him ordering her about; the only time he’d given her an actual order had been during an outburst of bad temper when he was having a very bad day, and it had led to the two of them having their first - and so far last - truly serious argument.

Victor wished he could actually raise an arm to add an appeasing gesture to his words, but that would imply holding Carla with only one hand, and he had never dared to try that. Though she wasn’t the most unpredictable baby, holding her with one hand still meant he’d be more likely to drop her if she chose just that moment to move, and if she fell, she could get hurt.

Fortunately, Pluma understood him; no anger glinted in her eyes as she settled back into the armchair. However, an edge of irritation seeped into her voice as she asked, “Once more, just what are you talking about?”

Knowing he’d built the anticipation to a more than acceptable point, Victor gave her a warm smile, and then crouched before her, lowering Carla until her feet touched the floor.

“Look at this,” he whispered as he let go of his daughter, though keeping his hands close enough to hold her in case things turned out for the worse.

Just as he expected, Pluma’s look of surprise only became even more pronounced as he released their daughter.

And also just as he expected, her look of surprise gave way to one of the same awe and wonder he’d felt hours earlier, as Carla stretched out her arms and, a giggle flying from her, took a step forward.

///

For a moment, Ash could only sit as rigid as a statue, the only awareness she had of any feeling being how her eyes were steadily opening past what she thought they should, astonishment starting to trickle through her.

Then, as Carla took a second step forward, and then a third, followed by a fourth, a mix of feelings started to follow in the astonishment’s wake, quickly superseding it as her whole being filled with a mix of awe and joy and pride.

Carla was walking.

Carla was walking!

It was so… so… she didn't even know the word for it off the top of her head, and might not be able to come up with it even if she tried harder. The most she could say was that, in a way, it was similar to the sheer awe she had felt after the first look she got at Carla after she was born, and in another way, similar to her joy when Carla said her first word, but yet, it was somehow different, simply because it was another accomplishment.

She really couldn’t put a word to it if she tried. And she wasn’t really interested in trying anyway.

A rare smile of sheer happiness spreading across her face, Ash hiked up her skirt and slid from her chair, crouching before her daughter.

“Come on, Mi Luz,” she whispered, spreading out her arms. “Come to Mamá.”

A giggle bubbling out of her, Carla actually tried to speed up just as Ash said those words, although it was hard to tell how much she actually understood. Then, she wobbled on her legs with a startled yelp, her back starting to curl backwards like a reed in the wind. Alarm bursting through her, Ash started to lunge forward, but then Carla stretched her arms and straightened herself, resuming her walk.

Sighing in relief, Ash lowered herself back into her crouching position. She noticed that, some steps behind Carla, Victor straightened himself up and backed one step away, a matching sigh flowing out of him as well.

“No need to do it so fast,” Ash murmured as soothingly as she could, raising her hands in a soothing gesture. “Take your time.”

Again, it was difficult to guess how much Carla understood. But as she resumed her pace, she did so more slowly, her arms still stretched out. Twice along the way, she stopped on her path and swayed slightly, Ash’s breath catching in her lungs. But on both times, Carla steadied herself and started walking again. Ash just kept her eyes locked on her daughter, trying to keep the most encouraging expression she could even as she barely dared to breathe and felt like she was holding her heart in her hands while Carla approached at what seemed like a snail’s pace.

Then, before she knew it, Carla walked right through the gap between her hands. Her chest suddenly loosening, Ash took her hands to Carla and picked her up, standing from her crouching position as she cradled her in her arms, her whole being suddenly simmering with joy.

“You did it, Mi Luz! You walked all the way from Papá to me!" Bringing Carla to her, she lightly rocked her in her hands, drawing a giggle out of her. "Who’s such a big girl? Who’s such a big girl? You are!”

Her joy soaring even higher, she lightly rocked Carla once more, bringing forth a bout of cheerful babyish laughter. The joy within her going from merely simmering to outright boiling, Ash raised Carla to her eye level again. Along the way, her eyes fell on Victor, still at the same spot where he had set Carla down, a look of utter adoration on his face as he beheld them.

"What?" she teased with a smirk.

His enraptured expression didn’t change in the least.

"Nothing, mi amor. I'm only treasuring the moment."

Ash smiled at him. She knew just what he meant. Moments of sheer happiness like this were just meant to be treasured.

But at the same time, nothing said there couldn't be more of them.

Crouching once more, she turned Carla to Victor and loosened her hands.

“Go on. Go to Papá now.”

She couldn't see Carla's face at her request, but felt from the way her daughter tensed up that she was somehow torn.

Wordlessly, Victor crouched and reached out like Ash had. Carla looked at him for a few more seconds, then looked back at her mother.

“Mamá.”

Victor didn't even blink, but Ash could see a familiar sorrow settling on his gaze. Knowing where it came from, Ash whispered to Carla, “You already walked to Mamá, Mi Luz. Now how about you walk back to Papá?”

Carla just pressed herself into her mother's hands.

"Mamá,” she repeated, her firm tone adding the words she didn’t know how to say yet.

His face tensing into a neutral expression, Victor straightened up.

“It’s alright. She’s already had quite a workout, and had to put up with Papá all day. She wants her Mamá now.” He pursed his lips shut as if he was suddenly uncertain of what to say, but then, as if he couldn’t stop himself from saying the next words, he added, “Besides, she’s just showing how smart she is by already knowing who’s the right choice.”

Despite his easy-going tone, Ash narrowed her eyes as she also straightened up, Carla in her arms.

“You know I don’t like it when you start speaking like that,” she replied, her voice calm, but her eyes narrowing another fraction as she spoke.

Victor looked down at her words, as if unable to bear the sheer intensity of her gaze.

“I’ll set the table,” he whispered.

Her heart sank a bit as he walked around the far end of the table.

“Victor.”

He stopped at her call, barely above a whisper, but audible as a scream in the quiet cabin. Again, he seemed unable to face her head-on, but he met her gaze sideways, as if she had caught him lying and he couldn’t meet her head-on from shame.

“Whatever you’re thinking regarding the kind of father you’re doomed to be just because you’re his son, it’s not true,” she added, her voice lower and softer. “You’re not like him. And I know you won’t let yourself be like him.”

Victor’s gaze shifted at her words, the shame in it briefly lightening, but then deepening even further, his eyes strangely still as if he wanted to look completely away from her but was trying to force himself not to do so.

“I’m sorry,” it was all he said, his voice barely above a murmur.

Then, before Ash could say anything else, he resumed his walk around the table.

Ash’s heart sank further as she watched him go to the cupboard, anger and pain starting to creep through her, though none of either was directed at Victor.

She wished she could just somehow engrave on his mind that it wasn’t his fault he’d had a so-called father who had been nothing but an abusive scumbag to him, and he’d only ever be the same way if he wanted to - which had always been the farthest thing from Victor’s mind. But despite her reassurances - which she didn’t intend to stop giving - Victor still was afraid that having had a father like his’ meant that it was somehow in his blood, and he was just a bad father by default no matter what he did. He didn’t believe so as much as in the early days of her pregnancy, but sometimes, the feeling still reared up.

It wasn’t fair, as far as she was concerned. Victor was a good man, and he’d broken free from his bastard of a father’s grasp years ago. He didn’t deserve to still be plagued by it. Unfortunately, as she knew from personal experience, bad memories could be very hard to get rid of.

Especially when there’s personal guilt attached to them. Ash thought. And he may not actually be guilty of what he was accused of, but after that creep made him feel he was for his whole life, it would be difficult to shake it off.

Maybe so. But at the same time, it still wasn’t fair.

A faint babyish sound caught her attention. Ash turned down, and met Carla’s wide eyes as they looked up at her, a feeling that looked far too much like concern emanating from them despite her young age.

Mustering a smile, Ash settled her daughter on the curve of her left arm and caressed her cheek.

“It’s alright, Mi Luz,” she whispered. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Trying to add to her point, she brought Carla to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. A faint delighted coo rose from her as Ash pulled away, but then a frown settled into her face, her small hand reaching up to bat at the spot where a large red smear now lay on her cheek.

“Sorry, mi hija,” Ash whispered as she settled Carla back into the curve of her elbow. “Here, just let me…”

Reaching up with her right hand, Ash caressed Carla’s cheek with her thumb, trying to keep the gestures as soft as she could, but still forceful enough to actually get the lipstick off. Her heart started to sink as the red smear spread further across Carla’s cheek, her daughter now repeatedly smacking at it like she was trying to drive away an annoying bug.

Without thinking, Ash tried to summon some magic into her right hand in the way meant to wipe away smudges, like she had seen her parents doing countless times as easily as if they were breathing, and like she tried to practice for as much as she could.

Then a frown came to her face, as only a few silvery-gray sparks flew from her fingers, her hold on her power as frail as if she was only using her thumb and index finger to grip a piece of paper by the very end in the middle of a windstorm. If she tried using her magic to wipe Carla’s cheek, the odds her daughter would get hurt were far too big, and there was no way she’d risk hurting her daughter over magic practice.

Holding back a sigh, Ash released her hold on her magic, her heart sinking even further. Again, she was proving she was below her parents.

She knew neither of them would say so, or even think so, but it was the truth. Her father had been able to do this when he was still a wizard rather than a malvago, and he’d become a malvago when he was younger than she currently was. Her mother had been able to do this since before she deemed her malvaga studies finished, and she had been younger than Ash was now when that happened. But Ash herself… despite having started to learn magic when she was six, and it having been more than twenty-five years since she changed from a wizard to a malvaga, still seemed unable to match either of her parents' level of skill.

A presence materialized to her right. Ash turned to face it, her eyes briefly moving over the already set table as she turned and then falling on Victor, who held a bottle in one hand as he offered a cloth with the other.

“It’s alright,” he told her with a warm smile. “I’m sure you’ll get there someday.”

Ash smiled back, a spot of warmth flickering in her. She knew words like those were easy to say, but when Victor said them, she always knew he meant them. More, she knew that even if she never got there, his feelings for her wouldn’t change. One of the things that had been consistent about him over their relationship was his unwavering faith in her, even as she constantly was below the level of power and skills she'd like to reach.

“In the meantime, I think this will help,” he added as he raised the damp cloth.

Knowing what was in the bottle, Ash swerved slightly backwards and to her right, allowing Victor to reach their daughter’s cheek and dab at it with the cloth, the red smudge disappearing after a few gentle swipes. A satisfied coo left Carla’s mouth as the lipstick vanished.

“Thank you,” Ash whispered.

Then, trading her smile for a smirk, she added, “And while you’re at it, you might want to clean yourself up as well. You look like someone has been spitting cherries at your face.”

Victor’s face flushed slightly underneath the smears of makeup on his face, his eyes widening slightly. Ash had to purse her lips to hold back a giggle. She knew many men didn’t like being referred to as cute, and Victor wasn’t exactly an exception to the rule, but it really was the best word for him sometimes.

“Well, I’m just glad it was something much nicer,” he managed to quip as he opened the bottle and poured more makeup-wiping potion onto the cloth, though his cheeks remained flushed.

The urge to giggle fading, Ash allowed her smile to return, but said nothing as Victor closed the bottle again and wiped his face.

Her smile vanished again as Victor's expression fell, a somber look settling in as he lowered the cloth.

“I’m sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Ash reached up and settled a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand. Sometimes it’s difficult to hold these things back.”

Victor's face remained just as somber as before. If anything, it was even worse now, his shoulder tensing up under her hand, telling her without any words that he was still beating himself up for upsetting her.

Unsure of what she could say that wasn’t a retread of words she’d already used, Ash instead moved her arm to around his back and pressed herself to him, snuggling her head into his shoulder. At first, Victor went even more rigid against her, but then a sigh rolled from his mouth and washed over her hair as his left arm wrapped around her shoulders, his right one coming up and drawing both her and Carla into him.

Letting out a relaxed exhale, Ash curled her arm even more tightly around him, her whole being loosening from his closeness and warmth. She wasn’t the best with words, but she knew a gesture could say more than a whole speech, and tried to put everything she wanted to convey into her embrace.

From the way his stance remained loosened against her, she knew that, as always with her, he understood.

A satisfied coo rose from below, a faint shifting against her chest telling her that Carla was also enjoying the hug. Victor relaxed even further, and Ash knew he was relieved that their daughter had, in her own way, told him that she didn’t think he was a wrong choice.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice reminded her that both theirs and their daughter's dinners were waiting on the table and all but sure to be growing cold by now, before adding the reminder that food-heating spells were another kind of magic she still wasn’t exactly the best at.

But despite that, Ash stayed exactly where she was. The warmth and comfort of this moment with the two people she loved the most were too good to let go of just yet.

#elena of avalor #my fanfiction #tales of the ever realm au #victor delgado #ash delgado #carla delgado #just a bit of family fluff #i hope you enjoy

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connorandersons-blog · 4 years

Text

Let’s Give them Something to Talk About, Chapter 4

Rating: Explicit Word count: 4,328 Ship: RK1000 (Connor/Markus) Chapter: 4/5

Summary: The Jericho team plus Connor need to think up a way to distract the public from the fact that North punched a very important human. What better way than the Deviant Leader dating the Deviant Hunter?

Thank you to @gavincantreedthis for beta reading this!

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

Connor went to work the next day and kept his head down. He did what he had to do and nothing extra.

Hank, Gavin, Tina, and Chris all try to question him, then comfort him but he blocked him all out.

He didn't want to think so he let his programming run him on what was practically autopilot.

He kept doing this for days, blocking all calls from Markus, North, Josh, and Simon. He knew North and the others had tried to come over but Hank always made sure they didn't bother him.

He'd have to make sure he thanked Hank later. He mostly stayed in his room when not at work and only came out to cook for Hank when he felt up for it.

It was over two weeks later when Hank knocked on his door after making Simon leave.

"Come in," he mumbled from his bed. The door slowly opened and Hank poked his head in before coming in and sitting on the bed.

Connor was once again cuddling his red panda and refused to get out of bed since he didn't have work.

Hank looked around the room then back to Connor. "I think you need to talk about this. I've kept the others away, but if they did something to you I can tell they are sorry. Not that you have to accept that, but maybe talking it out would help."

Connor could tell how awkward and uncomfortable this made Hank. He was still getting used to opening up to Connor and acting fatherly again. He never got to this point with Cole and Connor could tell he was thinking of him.

Maybe he owed him this. "Markus and I… we were painting. He painted me then I literally painted him, like on him. I don't know how it got to this but we were talking about fake dating and he," now was the awkward part. How was he supposed to talk about this with Hank?

"Did he confess his feelings for you?" Hank asked after Connor paused for a bit too long.

Connor jolted and shook his head. "No! No, he doesn't feel that way about me. He, ok this is really awkward and embarrassing. Please don't laugh."

Hank reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Kid, I'm a cop, I've seen almost everything."

"Markus slapped my ass and I liked it!" He said fast enough that he doubted Hank could actually understand him.

Hank's eyes went wide and Connor covered his face. Why? Why did he say that? He could have easily said anything else.

Then he heard Hank snort and Connor looked up and glared at him. "Sorry! Kid, you do realize that's really fucking normal right? It's probably the most normal thing out there."

"Normal? Hank, he literally slapped my ass and I went fucking limp! He probably thinks I'm a freak!" Connor said, hiding his face.

Hank dramatically sighed. "Kid, that's normal. He doesn't think you're a freak. From what I've seen he thinks you hate him. Do a quick search of- wow I’m saying this sentence today I guess- BDSM for me."

Connor didn't question it and did as told. It only took him two seconds before he was a blushing mess. "Hank! Why did you tell me to do this?"

"To show that spanking is fucking vanilla. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. If you wanna talk to anyone message fucking Reed," Hank said with a small shrug.

He'd be way too embarrassed to talk to about this currently, but maybe later when he wasn't internally dying. "I don't know. I don't want to make Markus uncomfortable."

"Son, he's the one that slapped your ass. He probably liked it too," Hank deadpanned.

No, there was no way Markus liked that. He was just joking around with Connor, there was nothing else. "No, he didn't."

"Did you give him the chance to tell you that?" Hank questioned, raising an eyebrow. Connor sunk into his bed, shaking his head.

"No." The word was mumbled, of course.

"Well, you're getting your chance today. North said you two need to go on a date tonight. You're going to a club." Hank said, standing up.

Connor sat up so fast he was almost a blur. "What?! Hank, no! I can't- not tonight."

"Oh, you had plans for tonight that don't involve lying in bed? Kid, just talk to him ok? He's coming over in an hour," Hank said before walking back out to the living room.

Connor groaned and slowly pulled himself out of bed. He could do this. He had to do this for North and his people.

He took his time getting ready, pulling out a black, loose, shiny transparent mesh sheer top with long sleeves. He'd never worn it before out of the house, but he thought it would be appropriate for a club. He also grabbed his simple plain distressed skinny ripped jeans that had a chain.

That seemed like a good outfit. He let his hair be curly and he put on eyeliner. Not too shabby.

He dragged his feet when he heard a knock at the door. Hank let him get it and even gave him a thumbs up.

He opened the door to see Markus standing there in a white button-up with short sleeves and jeans. It's probably the tamest outfit he's ever worn. He didn't even have a jacket on. That wasn’t to say he didn't look good, because he definitely did. Connor was just a bit shocked.

They both stared at each other for a bit until Hank cleared his throat. "Right, um I guess we should get going?" Connor said, staring past Markus.

"Of course, I've got a cab for us," Markus said, offering his hand. Connor stared at it for a long second before tentatively taking it.

It felt different than before- more charged. He's more aware of how his hands are, how gently he's holding him. He was lucky his hands can't get sweaty.

Connor got in first and the ride was the most awkward thing he ever had to do. Connor kept trying to talk but nothing felt right, so he always closed his mouth.

Markus seemed to want to talk but also had no idea what to say. It was so much easier talking to Hank, but even then it was like pulling teeth.

The club was busy but too much that it would cause Connor to panic. He may be uneasy near Markus right now but he'd still protect him with his life.

The two stood outside the club and Connor mentally said fuck it. "Markus, we need to talk."

"Of course, I'm so sorry for what I did, it was completely uncalled for and not appropriate at all," Markus said, looking at him with sadness.

"No, I didn't… look, I didn't run because of that. I ran because I was embarrassed that I liked it." He couldn't look at Markus, so he stared at the ground.

He was so ready for Markus to be disgusted. "Oh. That's fine, I don't mind. I honestly did mean to, uh, turn you on, I swear. I promise I'll never do it again unless you want me to."

He was not expecting that. "Wait, you're not disgusted?" He looked up at him, furrowing his brows.

"What? No, of course not! Connor, that's completely natural. I'm just sorry I did that without asking, this is on me," Markus said, reaching out.

This time Connor eagerly took his hand. "I don't blame you at all. I just thought I'd make you uncomfortable." This was far easier and going way smoother than he thought it would.

Instead of answering Markus pulled him into a hug, pressing their bodies together so close there's not even air between them. "You could never do that. I'm sorry I made you think that."

Connor slowly pulled back, fully smiling for the first time in a bit. "It's ok. Alright, we should probably get in there. I'm guessing we're just gonna let whoever is there take pictures instead of any reporters."

"Yep, everyone agreed that it would spread faster this way. We do have to dance together a bit, is that ok? And don't worry about your body's reaction, ok? We're gonna be in the same boat with that." Markus started tugging him towards the door.

In the club, the good vibes flowed like a virus, but a good one. There was excitement in the air, all hyped up and ready to give them a good time. The music was loud to the point where humans probably couldn't hear each other, but Markus and Connor would be able to hear each other.

They turned heads when people noticed but most were too lost in the music and their dance partners. Connor kept hold of Markus as they pushed their way to the bar. They'd both need a second to get used to the club before they'd dance.

The bar was filled with people to the point where Markus and himself had to squeeze in to get to the bar.

The bartender is a younger woman with walnut skin, short grey hair, and brown eyes. She also had tattoos up and down each arm and Connor would bet more were hidden under her clothes. She moved around the bar with practiced ease, making and pouring drinks without even looking.

She walked up to them with a grin, hiding her surprise at the sight of them. "Boys, what can I get for you?"

"I'll have the El Presidente please," Connor yelled over the music. She nods and looks to Markus.

"And you hun?" She yelled, already pulling out what Connor's drink would need.

e"A Mojito please," Markus yelled back. Connor hadn't been expecting him to order that.

The two stood there, taking in the club. The lights moved around the room, blinding Connor momentarily. "Have you ever been to a club before?" Connor asked, leaning close to Markus so they wouldn't feel the need to yell.

Markus put an arm around Connor and nodded. "I have. We all went out one night and it was fun. North even got me to activate my intoxication settings so I made a total fool of myself."

Markus and Connor both took their drinks and sipped at them. She really knew what she was doing. Neither could get drunk from alcohol but they both had the modulator to be drunk.

Connor had never used his, but he didn't think now would be a good time either. Maybe one day they'd go out again and he'd try it out, just to see. "I haven't, hopefully, I don't do this wrong."

He made sure to take in the different dance styles. Most didn't even seem to have a pattern, but they all seemed to move to the music. Hopefully, he'd be able to accurately recreate the same.

"You'll do fine. We'll start off slow, don't worry." Markus said, finishing off his drink.

Connor followed suit, putting the glass back into the bar. Markus grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd on the dance floor.

They faced each other and were pushed together by people bumping into them. The feeling of the bass vibrated in their chests and Connor wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Markus held his hands and pulled him around, trying to loosen him up. Connor moved slightly at first, unsure of himself. The more he relaxed the easier it was, and soon he was loose and happy, moving with Markus and the beat.

In the dark of the club, all he had seen was Markus's high cheekbones and mischievous eyes. He danced like no-one was watching, but of course, they all were, anyone would want to watch Markus. But Markus's gaze was purely on Connor with a grin on his lips.

Connor got a burst of confidence and turned around and pushed back against Markus. Markus gasped but only loud enough that Connor could hear, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He was the one Markus was focused on, and he was the one making Markus gasp. There was a certain thrill to that but Connor didn't know why. Was it because Markus was gorgeous, kind, brave, and so many other adjectives? Or was it because of what Markus had become?

He didn't think it was the latter, but he honestly couldn't care at this point. He let his body move to the music and Markus held him tightly by the hips. The music moved them like they are puppets on strings.

He rolled his hips and Markus's grip on his hips tightened, but he's moving in time with Connor too. "Fuck, Connor," Markus mumbled in his ear.

Connor chuckled and kept moving, not holding back. Markus cursed softly in his ear every now and then and it only encouraged him more. He was actually having fun with this.

"Connor, fuck you're amazing. So beautiful." Markus groaned, and Connor could feel exactly what he's doing to him.

He whined at the compliments, trying to breathe deeply to cool himself down.

Markus heard the whine, of course, and grinned to himself. "Beautiful. You move so well, and all for me. Everyone is looking at us with jealousy." Markus pressed a kiss to his neck and Connor's knees went weak.

Connor quickly turned and presses their lips together. They'd need to do this anyway, but it also felt like the string that had been so tight but the kiss snapped it.

It was fast and messy, and Connor didn't give a fuck about the people who were gasping and taking pictures. It made Connor's pump pound and he kept trying to pull Markus closer and closer.

Connor made a frustrated moan when his brain decided to tell him the chemical makeup of Markus and his drink.

Markus brought a hand up and gently gripped the back of his hair. Connor groaned and tilted his head to the side and Markus practically attacked his neck.

He let out another gasp and rolled his hips forward again, and Markus bit down enough to make the skin around Markus's lips pull away.

A few people were now giving them dirty looks for taking up space and going farther than acceptable. There were also the people who were staring and getting a bit too into it, but the pictures didn't stop.

Markus pulled away and grinned at Connor before dragging him through the crowd. After a moment of confusion, Connor was roughly pushed against the wall and Markus was back to kissing Connor's lips.

Markus's knee was between Connor's leg and Connor was practically humping him, panting into the kiss.

Markus nipped at his bottom lip and pulled at Connor's hair while the other was up and under his shirt.

Connor moaned when Markus tugged on his hair and Markus smirked. "Look at you... Fuck, Connor."

"Markus! Don't stop, please," he begged and Markus was glad to comply.

They were definitely putting on a good show and multiple people had taken shaky videos.

Markus brushed his finger over Connor's nipple and he jerked and yelped, eyes going wide. "Fuck," Connor whined.

Markus smirked and did it again, loving the reaction he got out of him. "Is this ok?" Markus asked as he moved the hand away from Connor's hair to grab his ass.

Connor nodded and panted, "Yes, yes please." Part of Connor was aware this was all for show, but he still enjoyed it. He still wanted Markus to kiss him until he could no longer think.

"Good boy, saying please," Markus mumbled soft enough that even Connor could barely hear him.

Connor's knees went weak and the only thing keeping him up was Markus. Neither of them really expected him to react that dramatically and Markus chuckled as he kissed his way down Connor's neck.

"Fuck, we should probably stop soon." Connor breathed out. He wouldn't be able to last long and they definitely made enough of a scene.

Markus pulled back and searched Connor's face. "We could… do you want to continue this somewhere more private?"

Connor tilted his head slightly. "Why? No one would be able to see us then."

Markus swallowed and moved back away with a frown. "Right, that's true. Ok, I'll get us another drink."

Connor didn't know why Markus was so upset, but he didn't question it. He needed a second to compose himself and calm down. Markus nodded and pushed his way to the bar while Connor leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

He tried to block out everything else around him, but his lips still tingled and it felt like he was floating.

The music was still just as loud but he felt like everything was muffled. He had literally just made out with Markus. The man who set all of his people free, but more importantly, his best friend.

It felt very nice and honestly, he didn't want it to stop. He just didn't want to go too far. He only just now was able to face Markus again. At least this time he could feel that Markus was just as affected.

He had been momentarily curious as to if Markus was equipped with genitals, but it was mostly just wanting to know. He wasn't too surprised, all prototype models were equipped with everything they could be. If they weren't actually needed then they'd be removed before another test was sent out.

He just wasn't sure since Markus was specifically made for Carl and not made to eventually be released to the public.

Connor jumped when he felt a hand in his shoulder, but was happy to see it was just Markus with his drink.

He gladly took it and chugged most of it, checking the time. He almost spat his drink out when he saw they've been there for three hours.

Most of it was dancing but they must have been kissing for at least an hour. That was far longer than he thought, it only felt like a few minutes at that.

"Do you want to dance some more?" Connor asked, pushing off the wall. He was much calmer now, and he actually enjoyed dancing quite a lot.

Markus shrugged and sipped at his drink. "We can if you want, but if we make out again we might get a drink thrown on us."

Worth it, his brain supplied but he shook his head at himself. "We can just dance, I won't um… do that again if you don't want."

"It's fine, dance however you want sunflower." And there's the pet name again that made Connor flush and smile.

Connor and Markus finished their drinks before going back out on the dance floor. They goofed off a bit, waving their arms around and laughing at each other when one of them would do something particularly stupid.

They got a few people around them to do the same and soon half of the dance floor turned into wild dancing that didn't go with the music at all. Connor chalked it up to Markus's neverending charisma.

That didn't last long as most people went back to dancing regularly or off to the bar to get a drink and cool down.

A few of the androids had walked up to them and thanked both Markus and Connor for freeing them. A few even hoped them happiness with their relationship.

Markus had put an arm around Connor and pressed a kiss to his cheek, throwing out that he was the lucky one instead of Connor. Each time he gave a compliment freely or hushed about him Connor would flush and duck his head.

It was hard to believe he'd ever have something like this with anyone. He just couldn't see anyone actually wanting this with him. He was so inexperienced and he had done so much in his past. He doubted even a human would want to be with him.

Yet Markus said each compliment with a smile and tone of voice that begged someone to try and tell him otherwise. If Connor didn't know better Connor would have believed him.

The way he looked at him made his pulse race and he couldn't help but look back. How was Markus so good at this? How could he pretend so well that he was even fooling Connor into thinking Markus's feelings may be real.

He couldn't stop thinking about it even as Markus kissed him goodbye and he made his way back home. He couldn't stop thinking about it as he laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling.

He finally let all of his messages come in just to try and distract himself. All the messages from North, Josh, Simon, and Markus flood in and it takes him a second before he's able to sort through them all.

All of Markus's messages were mostly apologies and explanations up until that night when he had tried to explain the date.

He read through each message and sent them each a message apologizing for his behavior and that he had overreacted. They all replied instantly saying he hadn't needed to apologize.

Then his thoughts were back to Markus. He couldn't stop going over everything they'd done together. His mind kept saying it was real, but Connor knew it wasn't. It couldn't be.

He had to find evidence that it was fake. Every time they kissed it was for the cause… Actually no, that isn't right. They had kissed just to do so before.

That's fine, there had to be more. Markus was naturally touchy so it wasn't too odd that he was more so with Connor during this. If anyone would have walked in on them it would have looked like they were together.

Markus would jokingly call him his boyfriend even in private. He was joking, right? He had to be, but he couldn't tell his tone over messages.

There was so much evidence that said otherwise but it had to be. Markus couldn't like him, it just wasn't possible.

»From Connor

I know this is sudden, but do you think I'm loveable?

»From Gavin

wtf? yeh definitely, why?

»From Connor

I think Markus may like me.

»From Gavin

uh… the dude is your boyfriend, i sure hope he doee

*Does

Shit, right Gavin didn't know. Well, he could trust him with this. He just had to talk to someone who wasn't like a father to him.

»From Connor

The relationship isn't real. We were using it to distract the public from what North had done.

»From Gavin

well shit man, yeah youre totally loveable. if markus doesnt like you even a little hes an idiot

Connor grinned at the message and shook his head. Gavin could be so overly dramatic.

»From Connor

I highly doubt that. I also highly doubt Markus likes me, but all the evidence points that way.

»From Gavin

dude wtf? is this gonna be the whole am i adorable thing? i swear ill call the whole city and id bet if they met you they had a small crush at some point

»From Connor

This isn't the same. It's one thing to be attractive, but it's another to be loveable. I've done too much to warrant this.

»From Gavin

just so you know, i face palmed. I literally pulled a gun on you multiple times and you forgave me. what makes you so different that your arent forgivable (not saying you need to be forgiven but you sure think you do)

»From Connor

That's different, you've changed and even apologized. I was just a machine back then, so I don't blame you.

»From Gavin

face palmed again. YOU WERE A MACHINE, dude you literally said that yourself. you weren't in full control, no one blames you

Connor stared at the message before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Gavin was right. It would always feel like it was his fault, maybe he could have deviated sooner. The blame couldn't be put entirely onto him.

That didn't mean he was loveable, or even likable by someone like Markus. How was this even possible?

It made sense with how Markus had acted but still. Why was he so against the idea of someone liking him?

»From Connor

I blame myself. I just don't see how someone, especially an android, could like me.

»From Gavin

god damn my forehead is getting tired. and red as fuck. look you may not see it, but you are loveable. basically all humans are. did you know theres people that'll fall in love with convicted serial killers? if they can be loved so can you

»From Connor

I will try to believe that. Thank you, Gavin

»From Gavin

whatever tincan. see you at work

Connor snorted at the nickname and grinned up at his ceiling. Gavin was crude, but right, even appealing to his statistics that he could be correct. That maybe he could be loveable. If so, then he'd have to admit that Markus at least found him attractive.

Well, that was definitely a given after what had happened that night. It was clear Connor was also attractive to Markus but how much?

Was it deeper than just a crush? The thought made him shiver and he had to physically shake his head. No, he couldn't love Markus.

Even if Markus loved him it wouldn't be fair. It would be too easy to use Connor against him. Whatever was left of his programming could possibly be used against him and he'd never let that happen. He'd never let him get that close.

He'd see this through, though. He'd follow along and he wouldn't let himself get too deep.

After he'd let Markus down gently and they'd go back to being friends. He'd also make sure to not get too close that way too.

He will keep Markus safe.

13 notes · View notes

qhostqizmo · 5 years

Text

The Power of Suggestion

Heeheehee I finally wrote this idea after 5k years and it’s even more ridiculous than I envisioned I love it.

- - - - - - - - - -

Keeping her feelings a secret was one of the hardest things Essätha felt she’d ever done. Holding her tongue; swallowing her words, choking on a fantasy that at times she could almost believe to be real rattled her. No, it shook her. It was the first distinct sensation she felt that made her as petrified in equal levels as overjoyed. Truthfully, she always wanted a place to call home… she just never expected the impression to come from someone’s arms, and not from some residence of her own choosing.

Even now, it was a raging fight inside of her just to think of him. To look at him. No matter how many times she argued with herself, and tried to convince herself that there was absolutely positively no way in heaven, hell, or earth she could possibly love Lord Amon Thomas Illiad… The truth was he had already unknowingly stolen her heart.

She was either going to get it back in tattered pieces, or not at all.

She prayed the former, but in the warmest light; and not the heartbreak of being unable to love another again for the rest of her days.

It was almost aggravating, watching the nobleman. Why him? She’d met and been with all sorts of other people; had even had a few fancy flings where some dimwitted infatuated individual would claim to her she was the one for them… And she loved the impossible. Her hands itched for the out of reach, and out of bounds.

Just look at him, she berated her heart. He’s accomplished nobility. He’s ruggedly handsome, and clever, and strong, and creative. He dabbles in alchemy and science, and you’d chase bugs and snakes all day like an airhead, given the chance. He’s sensitive, and gentle, and considerate and you’re only as patient as your roots to the ground. That man could have offer his heart to anybody, why would he offer it to someone as plain and uninteresting as you when he’s… extraordinary.

Okay, maybe he enjoyed her company, but he didn’t love her. They were friends; great friends, almost the best of friends she’d dare to say, and nothing more. He trusted her with his past, his confessions, his vulnerabilities; but also with his happiness, his curious trial and error of the world, his jokes. Together they had built a solid foundation of mutual confidence in each other. He knew there was always a place for him beside her, or in her arms, and she felt safe enough to come crawling to him even when she felt ugly and pathetic and the back of her mind still told her to flee.

Having a friend was plenty. Having him in her life in any way she could, was enough.

Why did her stupid heart have to get in the way and ruin it?

It painted her pictures of his fingers intertwined with hers, and of his smile, and those were some of the tamest longings she had. Sometimes it woke her at night, the smell of dog and leather and deep woodlands and rose, and her mind started racing as fast as her pulse. Whispered dreams still clouded her thoughts then. Ideas of this moment never-ending; of just waking in his bed all the time, every day; his eyes lingering on her, of his hands against her, and then his mouth-

And by then she was usually too flushed and humiliated and ashamed with herself to breathe let alone let a single word of how she felt slip out.

They could stay friends. Essie could keep her mouth shut. It would hurt a bit, but she would get used to it. No strings attached, she could go where she pleased still. No commitment, no expectations…

Gods, her heartbeat stutted. What if with him is the only place she wanted to be?

She was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Frustrated, she lifted her fist to slam it down upon the wooden cart. It startled the warlock beside her to awareness from his trance, and he immediately started to grumble to himself.

“The hell is your problem?”

“Everything!” She exasperated, pouting.

“Okay…” Penimra drawled out, looking at her with a side-glance that said ‘she’s lost her mind’.

Exhaling out raggedly, Essie placed her face in her hands. Curls of her hair were smothered against her face, and she annoyingly dropped her hands back into her lap.

“Pen I… I have a bit of a personal question for you.”

“Oh shit, personal questions aren’t really my thing. Maybe you should ask Abe-” his breath hitched- “…Adela.”

Doing her best to ignore the high-elf’s stumble over their former Paladin’s name, she twiddled her thumbs together and nibbled on her lower lip. Her eyes moved towards the hauntingly creepy bird-like beak of the man beside her. It took a considerate amount of strength not to ogle the one she really wanted to look at some yards away, speaking with Sulhadur.

“What was it like for you, being in love?”

The cursed noble elf looked shocked, and then sour, and then sad. He whipped his head away, turning his elongated nose up. No amount of snobbery could hide the hurt in his voice, however.

“I thought it was fantastic, until I realized it was a lie. Love is rarely real and true, or as dramatized as all those little plays and books make it out to be.”

“Oh.”

“… Why do you ask?” the warlock begrudgingly inquired after a few awkwardly silent seconds.

She shrugged mutely, looking back down at her hands.

Penimra remained silent for a blessed few more moments. Then, he scoffed.

“Why don’t you just tell Amon how you feel? You’ll save us all from your moping.”

Essätha’s jaw hit the floor.

“Are you serious? I can’t just- just walk up and tell him!”

“Well humans haven’t adapted the ability to read minds, so good luck with ever making it to first base.”

“Why did I ever think I could ask you anything,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Because we have no dad to go to,” he sulked in answer, lowering his head.

Now who was moping?

Sighing, Essie propped her elbow up on the side of the wagon, staring hopelessly at her nobleman. If only she had the courage to tell him. Maybe she’d consider asking Adela, if the sorceress hadn’t previously held such an ugly grudge against Amon; or had such a snarky, almost degrading way of speaking to her. Abernathy would probably have a good suggestion…

Suggestion!

Perfect; that’s just what I need!

“What’s perfect?”

Oh, she’d said that aloud. Whoopsie. No matter, she thought eagerly, beaming and brimming at the edges, about to burst. She would need him anyway.

“Pen, cast Suggestion on me!”

The elf cocked an eyebrow, resting a hand upon the golden nipple-chain lying across his tummy. “Why should I do that?”

“You could order me to tell Amon how I really feel!” she squealed eagerly, leaning towards the elf with sparkly eyes. “Pleeeaasseee?”

“I don’t know; I don’t like telling people what to do…”

She deadpanned at him.

“Okay okay- but what do I get out of it?” the warlock inquired with snob, flinging his voluminous golden hair around with a twirl of his finger.

“I’ll leave you the hell alone,” the Yuan-Ti replied simply.

Pen’s eyes widened to delighted saucers, and his creepy beak seemed to appear to grow a smug grin. “Done. Now, sit still, and don’t reject the magic…”

Closing her eyes, Essie breathed out deeply. She let her guard down. A shiver of anticipation moved over her spine as Pen waved his hand in the air, and garbled an incantation that sounded frightening and inhuman. She could feel tingles in her fingertips, and to the roots of her hair.

“There,” the elf sighed, “now off with you, you’re ruining my beauty rest.”

Blinking slowly, the sorceress’ looked around. She didn’t feel any different. There was no sudden urge, no draw, no deep and unforeseen need to complete anything… She felt nothing. Nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary.

Essätha turned her head to look towards the nobleman, and lost her breath. Her pulse quickened. Her body almost shuddered with yearning.

Now she felt it.

Climbing out of the cart, she buzzed straight past Ravamora. The short wood-elf glanced towards her skeptically. There was a pep in her step; a charge around her that drew the rogue’s gaze. Was it from the spell? Who knew. She felt excited, and scared, but unable to refrain herself. The enchantment had a snare on her, and even if she was terrified, there was no stopping it now. One way or another, she was going to have her answer.

Her footsteps felt heavier as she approached the crimson Dragonborn paladin, and the warrior that cradled her heart. The former didn’t notice her approach, but Amon certainly did. He perked up, his head swiveling to her. The darkness of his eyes held a little twinkling light in them as he smiled at her. Especially for her.

She could melt right then and there.

“Everything alright, Essie?”

Gods, he had such a lovely tone in his voice. He had his own force of casting, but it felt like the spells only worked on her. She swayed a bit, rocking her heels into the dirt while wearing a timid smile.

“Yes,” she squeaked, her voice cracking. Very confident.

Puzzled, the nobleman calculated her expression. Whatever he found seemed to be enough for him; the slight creases of worry that etched around his eyes instantly vanished. He offered her his hand; the most natural reaction in the world. She accepted, stepping in closer. Unnecessarily closer.

Was it just her imagination, or did his breath just catch, too?

“Oh, hey Essie,” Sulhadur chimed in, looking up from the stake he’d planted in the ground to secure the first tent. A toothy grin spread across his muzzle, and a small curl of smoke as he chuckled wisped up from his nostrils as he inquired, “Were you hoping to join us in pitching tents?”

“I would not,” she laughed, offering out her free arm to flex. “Still don’t have your muscles, I’m afraid. If you really wanted someone to supervise, though…”

“That’s okay, we’ve got this, then.”

It’s now or never, idiot.

Stalling, she chewed her lower lip. Breathe in, and breathe out.

“Actually, Sulhadur,” she drew out, slowly, capturing their golden eyes before the Dragonborn could turn fully away from her, “Could you… help Pri’cha with the fire?”

The lie stumbled out, unconvincing. Less convincing still, as the Paladin craned his head to look over her, to where the Thri-Kreen cleric was neatly stacking wood.

“You want me… To help our cleric of Pelor… Who has all the means to light their candles, and summon fire, with… making a fire?”

Even Amon gave her an odd look. She tried not to sweat, or squirm too much.

“Yes!”

“… Alright,” Sulhadur agreed, heaving a grumbling sigh. He nodded to the nobleman, muttering, “I’ll be back to help with the rest in a moment.”

Amon nodded, saying nothing. His eyes trailed the red Dragonborn until he was well out of earshot, and then he turned his confused gaze back unto her.

“What was that about? Why do you want me alone?”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no-

Breathing in sharply, Amon placed a hand to her waist. It sent spiraling waves of heat blooming through the fabric of her clothes, into her skin.

“Essätha, you’re shaking!”

This was stupid! She couldn’t just tell him! She couldn’t just shout it out of nowhere!

The concern in Lord Amon’s deep blue eyes made her stomach flip, and do somersaults. He held her gaze steady, like the rest of her. The anchor of his hand to his side, and their laced-together fingers kept her warm. His small, worried smile creeping up his lips kept her face warm in turn. Everything about him was always so grand and wonderful; his inky black hair, his sculpted figure, his chiseled face, and he was so close, now. The smell of his cologne was a bit faded compared to the aroma of sweat from many days hard work with few opportunities to do more then wash up with waterskins and stream-water, but he was still the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Is everything okay?” he ushered; gentle, compelling.

He was adorable and so gentlemanly, heavens above. Essie tightened her grip on his hand, holding it close to her face. She sighed, sweet and soft, while resting her cheek against the back of his hand.

Amon’s lips parted. He seemed like he was having almost as much trouble breathing as she felt she was. Suddenly, she found her smile. She wore it timidly, but not without pride, and not without a flicker of reverence.

“I’m going to tell you something crazy, and… I don’t want you to run from me, when I say it.”

“Okay,” the nobleman exhaled raggedly. He squeezed her hand tighter, his boots shuffling closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He was close enough that if she wanted to, she could easily lean in to kiss him without losing her balance. It made her dizzy; almost as much as his eyes did. She was falling, sinking, and there was no coming out of it. The darkness swallowed her whole.

She swallowed her nerves down. The tingling sensation of the power of the Suggestion was gnawing at her, now. It was stronger, now. Biting at her. Clawing. Ripping at her chest, her throat. The words wanted to escape her unconsciously. If it were possible to rip out a beating heart and hand it over as an expression of love, and not die, she’d probably do that, right now. But this was going to be almost as close a reference to that.

“I’m in love with you.”

The expecting, questioning expression the Briarton Protector wore suddenly diminished. His hand clasped so tightly to her, she feared what it meant. With his eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open, he stared at her with an increasing shade of pink turning red on his face.

Had he forgotten how to breathe?

As the power of the spell left her body, numb and cold, Essie tried to explain herself in quick, nervous rambling: “I’m sorry this- this isn’t what you expected. I- I understand you’re probably shocked. I didn’t want to tell you, but I was having trouble moving forward, or focusing without telling you. I thought that m-maybe if I told you…” She gasped, strangling for air before continuing, “If- If you don’t return the feeling at-… At least I would get s-some… some closure. That I could move on…”

Still speechless, he made no response as she reached for him, lightly cupping the side of his face. The nobleman did not flinch, but nor did he come closer. He was like marble; a statue to her touch.

“I’m… I’m so sorry if telling you has… has ruined your impression of me… I… I just hope we can still be friends. I hope you can still trust me, as your friend. I love you, m’lord Amon, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Stop talking.”

“What? Why? I want you to understand-”

“Essätha,” Amon rasped, squeezing her hand firmly. “I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t want you to regret loving me, or telling me you love me.”

Stunned, the lonely woman tried to absorb his words… Where was he going with this?

Pulling their interlocked hands away from her face, Amon loosened his grip on hers. The detachment burned, but not for long. He pressed her, palm up, to his chest. She gasped, feeling the thunder of his racing heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

“Feel that?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes lost in his.

“That’s how I feel, every day, looking at you,” Amon whispered.

Her mouth suddenly fell open in a long, shaky exhale.

Oh…

Oh.

Oh?

Voice straining thickly, the nobleman rasped through his chuckling, “And all this time, here I thought there was no way you could… that you’d possibly…”

He let go of her hand, allowing it to remain pressed to his chest. He slid his palm in a scorching line from her waist, around to her lower back, bringing her in closer.

If she was breathless a second ago, she was absolutely winded now. All she was aware of was her pulse, running a crazy triathlon, and Amon’s beneath her palm.

He cupped her chin, encouraging her to tilt her head back.

So close. So close oh Gods she couldn’t breathe, all there was was him and his smile and his eyes upon her-

“May I kiss you, Essätha Meduza?” he inquired, his voice a hoarse whisper.

This was utterly, completely, totally surreal. It was like dreaming, but she was wide awake, and he was right there in front of her, and she was in his arms…

“Yes.”

The brush of his beard was a bit ticklish, but his lips were soft, and incredibly patient. It was barely a layer above being chaste, but it was incredibly tender, devoted, and affectionate.

“Wow…” she breathed; finally breathed, feeling a strange buzz as though drunk, or high, or all of those things and more.

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a quirky, somewhat shy smile. He laughed softly once more, the warm of his laughter billowing over her and making her shiver.

“I love you, too, Essie.”

“Really?”

Faint, hopeful. Let this not be a dream, let this not be a dream…

“Yes,” Amon breathed, nuzzling his nose to hers intimately. He held her tighter; pulling her firmly to her chest so that her hand had no where to go but to his shoulder for support. “With all my heart, yes.”

And she’d thought…

Biting her lower lip, her gaze flickered away from the intensity of his eyes, and back again. He was still looking to her as though she put all the stars in the sky.

Wow.

Diving her fingers into the depths of his hair, Essätha cradled the back of his head; urging him closer as she pressed her lips to his in a far deeper, more passionate kiss. They parted with her shaky gasp, and Amon’s heavy, panting breathing.

“Maybe I should have said something months ago.”

Amon swore in elvish quietly. “Or maybe I should have.”

She offered a nervous grin to his cheeky one.

“Uh… Are you two just going to make-out over here or…”

Adela’s intruding voice had them scrambling apart, both covered in an equally dark shade of scarlet.

The tiefling shook her head at them, sighing. She muttered something beneath her breath, stepping away with a swish of her tail.

Not daring to meet the look of forever dancing in the want of his eyes, Essie opted to looking at the grass instead. Her gaze met his hand though, as he reached to hold hers in a gentle grip.

“… We’ll talk later,” he suggested, his voice still light and airy; as though living in his own dream.

She raised her eyes to meet his. Her lips parted again, nodding stupidly.

Amon appeared fixated on her once more. He leaned in, his eyes going half-mast.

“Amon, why don’t you actually help finish pitching the tents before it’s hellishly dark out.”

Swearing softly in elvish, he tore his gaze away. Essie was left gaping after him like a fish out of water as he almost stomped past Adela, who was wearing an amused smile as he went to join Sul.

Slowly, Essie raised her fingertips to press to her lips.

Oh dear Gods.

Oh Gods.

Had that just happened? Had he really just kissed her?

Wearing a giddy, elated grin, she let out a shrill squeal, throwing her fists up in the air. She caught both Adela and Ravamora’s wandering eye as she stopped hopping up and down. The former slapped a hand over her face, and Rava just looked disinterested.

Royally flush and embarrassed, she turned to look hopefully to where Amon was. He was gazing at her with the goofiest, fondest grin. Luckily, Sul had apparently tasked him with the deity of holding the spike steady for him to puncture it in the ground the first few hits, otherwise she felt he’d be really doing nothing at all. Pri had taken it upon themselves at this point to join them, too; the fire now roaring, the follow of Pelor was placing a spike nearby in with one hand, holding the hammer in the other.

Bouncing on her heels, Essie skipped a few steps, and then raced the remaining distance towards the wagon. She lunged against it, causing a bruising pain to her abdomen as she half ran into it, half scrambled on board as Penimra was once more awoken from his meditation with a squawk.

“ACK! What do you want, you hellish harpy of a woman?!”

“I did it, Pen! The spell worked; your Suggestion worked! I told him, and he recuperated, and it worked! Thank you!” She grinned from ear to ear, nearly feeling like her face would split in too. The smile hurt so much, her eyes teared up.

The high-elf looked her up and down. Drawling out a loud ‘pssh’, he flung his hand absently in the air, as if warding her off. They leaned back once more, throwing another arm dramatically over their eyes to block the fading sunlight.

“I don’t even know the spell, Essätha. I never cast Suggestion upon you. You needed some incentive, and you worked up the courage yourself to do it. Yay you,” he finished, sarcastically.

Her expression went entirely blank. “Penimra, I’m going to…”

“Thank me, again? Worship me? I know, I’m such a giver-”

“Strangle you, you little bastard! How dare you; you could have told me you didn’t know the spell!”

They shrugged. “This was much faster, and easier. You’re welcome.”

Her cheeks swollen with air, and bright red, she dove for the high-elf in fit of hisses and screeching.

Sulhadur, meanwhile, looking up from his work to wipe his brow, and look over at the cart being thrown from side to side as the twosome threw weak, flailing limbs and spat venomous threats at each other.

“Should we stop them…?”

Adela rested her shoulder on the Dragonborn’s head, shaking her head with a sigh.

“Nah, let them hash it out their own way.”

#qhost story #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #OTP: Essamon #softly written #ft: Noisy Bastards #ft: Penimra Korvis

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severusdefender · 5 years

Text

Excerpt from my fic!

Hi! Love your Tumblr, and love the Snapedom. I've a newcomer, and really going through a phase, so I wrote a fic. This is an excerpt from it. I am always working on it and making improvements because I want it to be as perfect as its main character. The complete story is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874543/chapters/44800099

This is dedicated with love to Marauder stans.

*****

In Severus’s fifth year, Sirius Black told Severus how to enter the Shrieking Shack, and Severus did something - another thing he was to regret forever - and swallowed the bait.

Did he expect a werewolf? He suspected it, but Lily said he was mad. Did he expect a full-grown werewolf, unchained and hungry? Lupin, the tamest, most timid of the four? Were lycanthropes not supposed to be feral even in their human form? Even as an adult, Severus did not know how to answer that. It did not matter what he expected at 16, because a raging werewolf was what he got. To be more accurate, a raging werewolf almost got him.

The predator’s head turned at an impossible speed in the direction of the entrance to the shack. Its yellow eyes focused on Severus, its nose sniffed the victim that walked into its cage alone… a string of saliva stretched between its fangs, and it let out a low, horrible growl. The bites it uncontrollably inflicted on itself left parts of its body bloodied and furless, and it was sure to inflict just such a bite on Severus, the frozen prey that stood there stupidly, thinking God knows what, but definitely not “I was right”. Just before the dark creature attacked, James Potter shouted: “Move, Idiot!”, and shot spell after spell, and dragged Severus, who was still blinking stupidly, away.

“I’m going to Dumbledore,” Severus announced, panting. That was his second mistake, as he would tell himself for months after the fact - he should have pretended to be grateful and gone straight to Lily. But he did not. It might have been the stupidest decision of his life thus far - stupider even than going into the Shrieking Shack in the first place.

James tried to stop him, but without his gang, without his many admirers, he could not. “Then I am coming too!” James cried. Together, they waited for Dumbledore to let them into his office, neither one letting the other out of his sight.

“Tell me what happened,'' the Headmaster asked calmly. James started talking first. When he talked to teachers, “Snivellus” became “Severus”, and there was no mention of his nose or of shampoo to be found for miles. “Professor,” he said with just the right blend of alarm and confidence, “I learned that he was going to try to enter the Shrieking Shack, and I got worried, and ran after him.” James Potter’s disregard for the truth was equal to his disregard for rules.

“And who do you think told me how to get there?! And, and, what did I find there, do you imagine?” Severus, the outraged teenager who foolishly assumed murder was still illegal, shrieked, bug-eyed and scandalized.

Dumbledore sighed. “I know what you encountered there, Master Snape. Master Potter, how did you know he was going down there?”

Potter did not answer this one so quickly. He weighed his options. Most of them were not good. “It was Black!” Severus shouted, before James could come up with another half-truth.

Dumbledore replied, looking at both of them: “You must appreciate that this is very severe. Only Mr. Lupin was meant to know how to calm down the Whomping Willow. I suppose it is natural that he trusted his friends”. Then, he said nothing for a while. “Return to your beds,” he instructed them, finally. “I will consult with Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn and we will reach a decision tomorrow morning, when we have had a chance to calm down. I must demand that you both be discrete, until then.”

Outside Dumbledore’s office, James said: “You disgusting tattle-tale, no wonder no one likes you. This is how you repay me for saving your life? I already regret it. Tell anyone, and I will feed you to him myself.”

A speechless Severus ran to his dorm, whispered the password, and covered himself up to his eyes. A sleepless Severus stared at the ceiling and thought to himself - I have to tell Lily. They made it a prefect, a prefect!

He washed his terrified face hours later, and marched to the Headmaster’s office. Potter and Black were already there - on time, for the first time in their lives, as were Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn.

Was that the moment he was condemned? They got away with it. McGonagall promised to handle the punishment. Slughorn, his own head of house, was occupied first and foremost with the welfare of students he wanted to welcome to his precious Slug Club.

They were above the rules, and Severus was beneath them. So far beneath them, in fact, that he was punished, despite “almost being murdered” not being expressly prohibited anywhere that he knew of. Dumbledore forbade him to talk about it, and whether or not he actually put a silencing charm on him made no difference - he was in his O.W.L. year, and he was not going to get himself expelled for anything before he was fully qualified. He knew full well what life was like for the wandless. Ultimately, Severus blamed himself - how could he have been stupid enough to trust Black not to try to murder him?

Soon enough, Severus found out that Potter was not held up to the same standard of discretion - he was free to blab to his heart’s content. He did not implicate Black or Lupin, but he made himself out to be the hero, Snape's noble savior. Naturally, he neglected to mention that he could not beat Severus one on one.

It was proof. He was born to be hated. He was less, less wealthy, less popular, less attractive, less than a werewolf. He was nobody. Nothing. Whether he lived or died mattered so little he could not even talk about it, not even with Lily, and Sirius did not even get suspended, never apologized (Not even when Dumbledore forced us to shake hands last year, 36 year old Severus thought bitterly). He wondered who would have cared if he had actually died. He wondered if Dumbledore would have reacted differently if the roles were reversed – if the victim had been Gryffindor and the assailant, a Slytherin. Dumbledore drove the second wedge between Severus and Lily. Lucius, his mentor and role model, was gone. Severus felt more alone than he ever did before.

But Lily was still his friend, even though he was growing increasingly paranoid and jumpy, even though he was suddenly secretive around her and inexplicably rancorous. Through all that, she was still his friend. When she took the hexes that were meant for him, she wore her boils and her bizarrely long toenails and her other various temporary disfigurements with pride – a privilege that he felt was exclusive to those who were naturally beautiful, to those no one actually intended to curse. She was beautiful and brave, and he was an ugly coward who let his friend get hurt for him. As he could not share the full extent of what he was going through with her, he worried that she too was growing to think him a coward, and his resentment continued to swell. That she indeed thought that was confirmed when he tried, desperately, to warn her, and she said she heard that James saved him from “whatever is down there.” But she is still your friend, he used to remind himself in those days. And she still hates James.

In their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., they were required to list five signs that identify werewolves. Severus could think of fifty, at the top of his head, including: They are friends with murderers who defy discipline. They will not remember it if they almost kill you. They are more important than the lives of impoverished Slytherin half-bloods.

Severus was not sure if this was the universe itself playing a joke on him or an easy O. He knew the answer less than an hour later.

James attacked him, unprovoked. He disarmed him, immobilized him, choked him with soap… Lily’s voice cut through the air. “Leave him ALONE!” she shouted at James. Severus tried to take advantage of the respite, and crawled toward his wand while Potter, ever the paragon of virtue and fine manners, pestered her to go out with him. Severus needed much less than that to be inspired to try out his Sectumsempra. He was rewarded with being attacked with another of his own spells. He was hanging in the air by his ankle. Did Lily smile at his humiliation before she demanded James to let him down? Maybe this was why James agreed, and Severus collapsed in a heap on the floor… and Black did not even give him a chance to untangle his robes before petrifying him. Lily’s wand was out, now, and evidently, a chance to look good in front of her was worth releasing “Snivellus” from the full body bind to James. “There you go. You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus -”

Severus could not take it anymore – his emotions got the better of him, and, preferring to be petrified by James Potter forever than to owe his Gryffindor Muggle-born friend one more debt she was too beautiful, blissful, and beloved to bother to collect, he said the terrible word that drove the third and final wedge between them. He could have ran away. Did he stick around for a chance to apologize to present itself? Was it because he felt like he had just Sectumsemptra-ed his own heart? Whatever the reason, It made no difference. He found himself suspended in the air and exposed moments later. Stupid.

fanfic rec

#submission #severus snape #snape fanfiction #sorry it took me forever to see this

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