#Alex is a madman who knows exactly what he’s doing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Lady Luck (pt. 1)

I was so hyped to write this lol. Heavily inspired by Kaiji <3

Tw: mafia mention, unrealistic potrayal of mafia, mentions of threats, implied obssessive behavior (will get more hardcore in the second part tho), mentions of gambling, kidnapping /not reader/

You knew that you were a scum, a lowlife, a miserable loser without much hope in life - that’s exactly why you had no problem joining the deadliest underground paradise and following under the steps of the Lucciano family. They controlled everything - the casinos, the drugs, the guns, the whores, you name it - they provided it. And you had nothing - neither a past, nor a future. But everything changed when the oldest son Thomas decided to help you get out of the mud and step onto your legs - he gave you a home, a friend to return to, a shoulder to cry on when reality felt too painful and harsh, just too much to bear on your own. “Why would you do that for a stranger?” You had asked him once while tipsy, sitting by the hearth, a slight blush adorning your soft cheeks. “That’s easy.” The man had responded right away without giving it much thought. “You remind me of myself.”

You spent long nights thinking about his words but never came to a conclusion - he was born into a powerful, wealty family, so it made no sense for him to have experienced rock bottom the way you had. And his small black eyes displayed such a variety of terryfing emotions - bloodlust, greed, sin and so much sadness. Why would a monster ever feel scared, you wondered.

Working for the Luccianos wasn’t especially hard or even dangerous - you ran small errands for them, took care of the younger kids, helped with insignificant deals, acted as a croupier when their staff was sick or missing or had to be taken care of, but one thing you were thankful for was how they never tried to force you into doing something you would never be able to forgive yourself for. Thomas was kind to you - always so considerate, willing to listen, to understand how you felt even when the worlds you two lived in differed so greatly. He was supposed to be villain of the story, big and scary, demanding, taking whatever he wants without asking and never feeling an ounce of regret about it. And for a while, you were suspicous of the man’s every move - you were desperately waiting for the mobster to fuck up and show his true colours so you could let yourself hate him, despise him. And yet the sweet, sweet moment of revelation never came. You knew, of course, of the many evil deeds the criminal bestowed upon thousands of innocent people each and every day, but you never witnessed it with your own eyes and when the man was treating you like a part of his family, holding you close and giving you chance after chance to prove yourself, it was slowly getting impossible to view him as the bad guy. Perhaps you should have waited just a little longer.

It happened during a warm, spring day. You didn’t expect it, you couldn’t. You had just finished your shift at midnight in the small shop you worked in, which belonged to Thomas’ mother, and were heading to the Lucciano mansion. It had been a particularly long and exhausting day, so you wanted nothing more than to feel the soft, silky, white sheets down your half-naked body while the quiet classical music took you to dream land and back. But upon opening the heavy wooden door, you quickly noticed something was different - there was no music, the big black TV in the middle of the hall was set to camera mode instead of the normal one, and it was awfully quiet. “They must have had to leave the country for a while.” You rationalised. “It has happened before after all.” You kept reassuring yourself while taking a tiny step towards the centre of the room where light was the strongest - it could uncover every hidden little detail.

And then the TV was turned on. You shifted your gaze up, paranoia eating at you from inside out. Soon there was clear image on the massive screen, but what you saw left you speechless. There were hours of footage from your personal life - working, hanging out with friends, eating, bathing. What made the shivers down your spine run cold was a scene where a guy, your boyfriend, was kissing you, touching you, undressing you with his praying eyes. It was nothing unusual for a young woman to have a love life, but this broke the only rule Thomas had told you upon entering the house - you were forbidden from having close relationships with men, especially dangerous ones, and for the longest time, you had no issue living by that as long as you came back to the luxury and warmth the mobster provided for you. Until you met him - a charming, clever member of a local gang. You knew it was wrong and could cost you more than you were willing to sacrifice and yet you still gave in. It was your first time experiencing the highs and lows of love, so who could blame you when it was such a magical feeling, a mixture of adrenaline and opium. Alex made you feel like a real human being instead of someone just existing, leeching off the stronger, wealthier species.

There was a shadow moving out from the corner, playing into your delusions. But soon enough you realised it was all a reality as none other than Thomas walked slowly towards you, clapping his hands dramatically, a sly smirk on his beautiful, scarred face. Did he...

"Congratulations." The man started off, dark eyes set on you, slowly coming closer and closer like a big black hole, ready to swallow you whole. "You went and got yourself a little boy - toy." The criminal chuckled viciously under his breath, making you cringe at the crude nickname he used. The situation felt surreal and yet the fear and panic were already suffocating you, making you dizzy wish regret. "I wish you would have told me though... I never thought someone I hold so important would lie to me." The mobster kept rambling, waving his arms in the air theatrically, while holding a lit cigarette, but never moving it to his lips - it was just a prop, a way to create a thick smoke mist in your eyes. It was finally the hour of judgement.

"What do you want?" You asked, faking confidence, desperate to take control of what was happening. It was a bizarre thing to see your dearest friend act in such a eerie, frightening way, almost treating you like one of his victims - nothing more than an indebted bastard or an unfortunate bystander, unlucky enough to catch a deal unfolding right behind the scenes. It hurt but you had forced this upon yourself and you had to fix it.

"Nothing much, really." Thomas replied, finally inhaling the deadly smoke into his open mouth. He played with his collar for a while, as if you weren't standing there, scared for your life. "I just want to teach you a lesson in obedience, doll." The mafioso continued, circling you slowly, his heavy gaze never leaving your body. You felt awfully exposed even when all your clothes were present, covering every inch of your skin. With a swift snap of his fingers, the man summoned most of the gorillas that worked under him. Two of them were dragging your kicking, screaming boyfriend towards the centre of the room, but a quick punch in the guts managed to quiet him down. He looked terrified, his face bloody and injured, covered in dust and misery. But he was still alive and only that mattered to you.

"I wanted to make this entertaining for all of us." The oldest Lucciano spoke out, his husky voice echoing trough the golden ceiling. He moved over to your lover and harshly pressed the cigarette butt against the exposed skin of his unprotected arm. The man cried out in pain, silently pleading you to help with his big, terrified eyes. And here you were, as helpess as he was - if not even more. "So I decided to initiate a little gamble of sorts, ya know?" Thomas winked at you, smiling with malice. You couldn't help, but recall all the times you two had played poker together, betting less than pocket change. You never understood why the man always got so excited despite winning such small sums, especially when his casinos already did well. But now you could see it clearly - he got off crushing his opponent, taking the victory under their noses. Money meant nothing. As long as he was able to ruin your mood, your life, the man was pleased.

Soft white light lit up the furthest corners of the hall and you saw dozen square boxes, arranged in a circle. It looked harmless enough on its own, still they were stamped with Thomas’ symbol - a dove. You used to wonder why someone in the most dangerous depts of mafia would choose such an innocent, sweet signature pf representation and now the answer was right in front of you - that way it was easier to trick the enemy into thinking they were safe. And how wrong were they.

“As you can see, there are nine wooden boxes in total. They look exactly the same and on top of each one there is a hole.” Thomas stopped to point at them, the raw anticipation flooding his otherwise dull pupils. “Six of the boxes are empty. In the other three though, there are placed some of the most poisonous snakes in the world. One bite and you are dead.” The madman gave a loud, breathy laugh while your boyfriend squirmed uncomfortably in place, restrained by the strong arms, holding him down. “Both of you will take four turns putting your hand in the boxes. After every round the box would be closed off and you would be able to choose only from the remaining ones. ” The mobster grinned widely, looking at your horrified expression. You couldn’t believe that the man was willing to put your lives on the line simply because you had neglected one of his orders. “Now you may be wondering where the suspence is - after all you would probaby manage to hear the hissing from afar and avoid the place it comes from. Rest assured, my foolish little friends. Right now the snakes are heavily intoxicated and absolutely silent - which doesn’t mean, of course, that they won’t attack any soft flesh they see. If you die, that’s on you, but if you survive, you will be rewarded.” Thomas clapped his hands together and his man let go of your lover, resulting in his falling to the ground with a heavy bang. Thomas pursed his lips together.

“Shall we get started?”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere mafia #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere gambling #yancore

156 notes · View notes

suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

Text

The Siren’s Song (c.h)

Where The Storm Gathers - Chapter 3

Pairing: Stable Lad! Calum Hood x Princess! Reader

Summary: A glance of hope stands in the distance as Y/N and Calum set sails to see some old friends, but the waters are not as calm as they seem.

Warnings: Mentions of murder; Torture; Violence; Blood; Abuse; Sickness; Manipulation; Language; Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 7.5 K

Author’s Note: Had to divide the chapter into two, you’ll understand why next week ;) This is the last boring chapter, I promise. Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes help a lot (please help out of this ban!) 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // tag list on bio!

Book 2 Materialist || Prologue || Chapter one || Chapter two

Ashton could hear the distant sound of thunder rumbling all over the kingdom. He thought that if he could hear that, then maybe the storm was closer than anyone could anticipate. He hasn’t seen the rain in months, let alone the sun.

He got himself into this mess, he thought. He should’ve fought harder and stopped being so naive in regards to his father.

Ever since Y/N left, he made sure to let everyone know exactly the type of person the King of RoseWood was. Letters were sent and crows were removed from their positions in different courts. Ashton would look for allies to his cause; allies that could potentially help him to take the power from his father once and for all.

It was not Ashton’s plan to take the crown at such a young age, he never asked for this even though it was bestowed upon him since birth. But he would do whatever it takes to keep his family, loved ones, and people safe; and it was more than clear that his father could not provide that same kind of security and comfort.

After the failed attempt to get his daughter married to the King of the Vail and take control of their army, King Richard went into what villagers called “a madman serenade” If the rumors said that he had lost his mind and his thirst for blood was as strong as ever, he would make sure to comply.

Richard brought the kingdom ruin, taking men out of their homes and putting them into training fields. He recruited the most fearless, sadistic men of the crow’s army and put them in charge of his new order. He lost his mind to the delusion that he will run all the kingdoms and turn them into an empire. And Ashton was almost about to uncover his plan when he was suddenly taken in the middle of the night and thrown in the dungeons like a dog.

Accused of treason and deprived of any contact with the outside and its people, Ashton swore he would not let his father win. He endured the tortures with a straight face, not saying a word to anyone that tried to pull something out of him. He spent countless nights without sleep, weeks without food, and days without water, all so that the cause and his sister could be safe.

He knew they would come for her eventually, he just hoped they had more time. Maybe he could’ve escaped by now and warned her, to make sure she and Calum are safe from the deathly grip of their father...

But instead, he was sitting in his cell once again, eyes fixed on the same spot on the wall as his lips were dry and sealed, even when the pain of the iron chains that rounded his ankles made him want to chop his limbs off. Feeling like a failure as he awaited his death. He has failed as a brother and as future King, and right now there was nothing he could do about it except listening to the thunder and the moaning of the other prisoners.

It was the dangling of the keys that caught his attention as it mixed with the sound of the heavy rain. He wondered if he was dreaming every time someone would come into the cell, hoping to wake up from the nightmare he was in, but they all made sure he lived through it. Never too much to kill him, but cruel enough to make him endure it.

“Diner,” The guard said in a monotonous tone and Ashton thought it was weird.

This guard never talked to him in a tone that held anything but pity and desperation, trying hard to win at least some kind of good reactions out of him even when the young Prince would lash out at him. Did he give up too?

Rian Dawson put the tray of food on the floor in front of the Prince. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking nervously at the door, almost as if he was afraid someone might come in at any minute, and Ashton noticed it but didn’t say a word.

“Eat!” Dawson demanded a bit too loud, but he wasn’t looking at Ashton, instead, his gaze moved nervously through the door and the tray.

Still, firm and stubborn as always, Ashton did not move or say anything, not wanting to give the guards the satisfaction of seeing him weak. But at the same time, he knew that the moment he put that piece of bread in his mouth, he might not be able to hold it after so many days without eating properly.

“Your Grace…” The guard then whispered, looking at Ash with a pleading gaze “Please…”

Ashton furrowed his brows. It was not normal for a guard or a crow to be this nervous around him anymore, and he did not trust it. After all, this was the same guard that would come every now and then to change his chains; heal the wounds just enough so that they don’t get an infection; and take him to his next torture. Why did he seem so desperate now?

“Please, I beg of you, Your Highness. Just-” He continued to whisper, but got cut short when a new set of dangling keys could be heard along the hallway “Shit”

“Dawson! What the hell are you doing?!” The Commander asked, standing right outside the Prince’s cell, and, once again, Ashton did not move a muscle to acknowledge him.

“They ordered me to get the traitor dinner, My Lord!” Rian said loudly, standing tall and ignoring Ashton altogether “But it seems like he would rather starve than be useful for once!”

His tone did not convince Ashton in the slightest since he could see through the lie. But it must’ve not been the same for the Commander who started to laugh.

“Let him starve, then!” He said “Before he dies we would have to feed him forcefully until the King says enough. Then he could rot all he wants. Come, Dawson! You are needed on the training field”

And with that, the Commander walked away, but Rian only allowed himself to breathe once the sound of the keys could not be heard over the thunder.

“Your Highness,” He said calmly as before, still keeping his eyes on the door as he started to walk out “Please, please eat. For RoseWood”

Ashton heard the cell door close again and the heavy footsteps disappear in the hallway. Then, his hazel eyes shifted to the tray that contained a piece of old bread and a cup of water. His narrowing gaze suddenly became wide open as his head snapped towards the direction of the door, waiting for any sounds besides the thunder that could indicate someone’s coming.

His heart was beating loudly inside his chest as he leaned forward, placing one hand on the dusty, musky floor, trying to see if he could support himself with his arms without making too much noise with the shackles that imprisoned him.

Slowly, Ashton started to crawl, biting on his tongue to not let out any noise as the pain of his wounded wrist shook through his whole body with every little step he made with his hands until finally, he reached the tray.

With shaky hands, the Prince of Roses opened the bread in half; eyes immediately watering as he had to prevent himself from letting out a cheerful and hopeful sob when he saw the piece of parchment hidden in the crumbs.

“Help is on the way. Let the true ruler of RoseWood be seen again - The Knights of Roses”

Y/N fell to her knees, hiding her face on a bucket as Calum held her hair place soothing movements onto her back with the palm of his hand. It was the third time today, the movement of the waves and the worry set on the pit of her stomach made everything fuzzy and revolving, making her throw up on an empty stomach.

“Love?” Calum asked, wincing as she started to cough through the tears “Y/N, it’s okay”

“It’s not okay, it’s disgusting” She cried, wiping her face with a cloth.

They were kneeling on the floor of their cabin on the Kaleidoscope, the same one they got when they were just arriving at the Crimson Islands. But what once was an exciting, frightening, and adventurous trip, has now turned mournful and dreadful as they made their way to The Vail’s coast.

Two days ago King Alex received a letter addressed to the Princess of Roses, sent by none other than King Luke Hemmings from The Vail, claiming that her brother had been captured and imprisoned by their father, who was now starting to prepare for a war to reclaim all Kingdoms to himself.

Y/N and Calum stood there in shock and tears as they read the letter over and over again, desperately wanting to make all of this just another bad dream. But the nightmare was not over, in fact, it seemed like it was just barely getting started.

King Alex gathered a small crew and together with the couple from RoseWood, wasted no time in preparing a trip to meet with the King of the Vail and his advisor, Sir Michael.

“We cannot let that madman win,” The King said “Say the word, Princess Y/N, and we’ll fight by your side. Anything you two may need, I will gladly provide. I am at your service, Your Highness”

And with that, the Princess and the Stable Lad ended up on the Kaleidoscope again with Captain Merrick; his crew; a few other soldiers; and a few volunteers. Ready to sail and get to The Vail where other rulers are gathering to decipher a plan of attack if Richard won’t back down.

But all this stress; worry; fear and sorrow was too much of a shock for Y/N and Calum even though they tried to hide it from each other. This was not a simple game of sneaking around in the woods, this was a life or death situation with Ashton’s life hanging on a thread if they don’t hurry, that is, if he’s still alive.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Calum asked once her breathing had calmed down, softly rubbing her back.

“A glass of scotch could be nice” She grumbled, getting up with Calum’s help as she sat back on the bed.

“Are you sure you’re allowed to drink?” Her husband asked carefully, sitting beside her as he held her hand.

Y/N furrowed her brows at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind the gleam in his eyes until it finally hit her.

“I’m not with child, Calum”

“How do you know?” He shrugged, placing a hand on Y/N’s stomach “You were not sick on our first trip to the Isles. And the Maester said-”

“The Maester doesn’t have a uterus,” She shook her head with a glimpse of a smile drawing in her lips “And even so, I know my body. It is not time yet, love. And, dare I say, if my father manages to win… it might never be”

Calum pressed his lips in a thin line, nodding at her words as he moved his hand from her stomach to cradle her hand once more.

“The time will come,” He smiled softly at her “Whenever you’re ready, and probably in years to come, it will be perfect. But, as of right now, my rose, I don’t think a glass of scotch is going to do you any favors”

She rolled her eyes lovingly at him, smiling as she said “How do you know? You’re not a healer”

“Nope, but I’m a guy whose friends would drink themselves to death and ended up exactly where you are right now” He chuckled, getting up from the bed and placing a soft kiss on her forehead “And I’m a husband who wants to take care of his wife, not make her sicker”

“Sometimes I hate that you’re a good husband” She pouted

“I can live with that,” He smiled, caressing her face with the back of his hand. “I’ll get you a beverage, though. I know Zach keeps some for the crew that get seasick”

“I love you,” She said through a sigh “Wish I could kiss you”

“Well…”

“Don’t even think about it, Hood. Get me the beverage and some mint leaves with lemon first”

Calum chuckled, “As you wish”

The stable lad exited the room with a faint smile that quickly disappeared when he closed the door. He hated seeing Y/N sick and he knew that the waves were just an added factor to all the turmoil she must be going through. He knows his wife; he knows she’s hiding all the pain she’s not allowing herself to feel. And he also knows that the stubbornness of his princess is strong and she would never admit it.

It’s all his fault, he thought as he walked towards the main cabin. He couldn't help but feel that he took part in sealing Ashton’s fate even though there was nothing they could’ve done at the moment. They needed to keep Y/N safe, no matter the cost. But why should Ashton pay for the crimes Calum committed by loving her? It should’ve been him the one sitting in the cell, not the only family Y/N has left; not the only family that loved her.

She’s already lost so much; her homeland, her mother, and now Ashton… She didn’t deserve any of it and Calum was more than determined to help her bring him back, no matter what it takes. They will not let Richard win.

He walked up to the deck, already making plans inside his head to let the guilt die down for a second as he concentrated on getting Y/N’s health back to normal when his pace was cut short by someone who purposely stood in front of him.

“Good morning, my Lord. Won’t you say we’re having such a splendid morning, today?”

There was something on Jack’s smile that made Calum want to punch it, something mocking yet sinister that hid something that he just couldn’t figure out.

At first, they couldn’t believe he volunteered for the trip, having just got to the Isles and finding a role in the court. He seemed too eager to go back to the Vail and help them defeat the King of RoseWood, saying it would be an honor to serve the Princess on whatever she would need. And even Y/N had to admit that was a bit off, but they needed all the help they could get.

Still, Calum did not trust him. And after he told Y/N about what happened back on the training grounds of the palace, she also started to distrust the man going by Jefferson. So his presence here brought more questions than reassurances.

“How’s the Princess doing?” Jack, also known as Sir Jefferson, asked; leaning over one of the masts with a glint in his eyes as he looked up and down Calum’s body.

Calum didn’t even try to hide his feelings towards him anymore as his hard, brown eyes stared at him with annoyance.

“My wife’s health is none of your business, Sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me”

But at the same time he took a step forward, so did Jack.

“Ouch,” He said ironically, “Thought you would be more thankful, my Lord. After all, isn’t your brother-in-law we are talking about here?”

Calum bluntly ignored him as he walked past the crow, bumping his shoulders as he did. Jack smirk, for his plan of railing up the stable lad, was working and he was also having fun with it, making it a personal challenge so for when the time comes to let all the truth come to shove, at least the fighting will be interesting. So he followed him.

“Who would’ve thought it would come to this?” He said, walking alongside Calum “A mad King, a Prince held hostage… Only, that’s all we know. Maybe things at RoseWood are more interesting”

Calum ignored him, pushing through the crowded deck to get to the Captain’s cabin. Jack’s voice became white noise as he tried to get the medicine he needed and then go back to his wife waiting for him at the other side of the ship. But then…

“Think of how this would’ve never happened if you never left. Or maybe things are finally working out for you”

Jack smirked at the way the stable lad stopped in the middle of his tracks, but quickly hid it the moment he turned around as the crow greeted him with a faux-innocent look of concern.

“Is everything alri-”

“What did you just say?”

Calum was fuming. The hair on the back of his neck rose in anger as a chill ran down his back when he heard those words. His fists were clenched to the sides, knuckles turning white from the grip as he dug his nails into his palms, reminding him to not lose his temper as they stood right at the entrance of the cabin’s hallway.

A shadow hid most of Jack’s face and Calum could swear he saw him smile for even just a second before his voice became soft as he said:

“I’m just saying that if you had stayed in RoseWood then maybe the Prince would not be in the dungeons, am I wrong for assuming that?” He said, furrowing his brows almost as if he didn’t understand why Calum could be mad about it “Royals can be tough, but you knew that before getting involved with the Princess, I assume. And then running away with her… Seemed like a poorly executed plan that started in chaos and, like most things, would probably end in chaos. Unless that’s the plan all along”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jack gasped, placing a hand over his heart as he blinked at Calum “That language, my Lord, very aggressive”

Calum grabbed the crow by the lapels of his clothing, pushing him against the wall.

“Cmon,” Calum said with his face only inches away from Jack’s “Say what you must, if you dare”

The crow let out a small, sarcastic laugh “Oh, my lord. Was I wrong to assume how this could benefit you? Don’t you think is a little suspicious? Father gets mad, you marry the daughter and then suddenly the prince disappears… Who gets the throne once it’s all said and done? Now that’s a story worth telling, don’t you think?”

Calum’s eyes filled with rage as he banged Jack’s head against the wooden walls, knowing that people might be watching. But he could not let go of that offense as if it was nothing. How could he think that he could do that to Ash? To Y/N?!

“You don’t know shit of what happened,” He said through gritted teeth “You don’t know what we went through, what she went through. You don’t know our story so don’t pretend like you do and start assuming on other people’s lives”

“Calm down, my friend,” Jack said, trying to defuse the tension. “Maybe I’m mistaken but I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking already”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, too? What does Y/N say about it?”

“What are you talking about?!” Calum demanded in hushed tones, gripping tightly onto Jack’s lapels and making him hit his head on the wooden wall behind him again, but the crow didn’t even flinch as a glimmer set in his eyes, sending chills down Calum’s spine.

“Oh, may the gods bless your foolish heart, Calum” The crow sympathized. “I knew Y/N would be too kind to let you borrow some of her burdens, but for you to be so clueless… Must be a blessing to walk around like that”

“Like what?” Calum was getting impatient.

“Like you didn’t cause all of this”

“My Lords? Is everything alright?” Captain Merrick’s voice came from the end of the hallway as he walked up to them.

Calum let go of Jack in an instant, too shocked by his words to say anything else as he looked at him with wide eyes and an expression that hid too many fears inside of it.

Jack, on the other hand, just smiled at the Captain “Everything’s fine, Captain. We were just having a friendly conversation, isn’t that right, Cal?” He patted Calum on the shoulder and walked away without saying anything else.

“My Lord?”

“I-I’m fine, Captain,” Calum said, blinking a couple of times to clear his thoughts “My- uh, My wife is feeling a little bit seasick, I was wondering if you could help me get her something to ease her stomach”

Zach smiled “Of course, my Lord! Come, I have exactly what she needs in my cabin”

Calum nodded, “Oh, and Zach?”

“Yes?”

“If you can,” He said, looking toward where the crow just disappeared “Don’t let that man go near our cabin nor near Y/N if I’m not there to stop him”

An echo passed through her ears as she stood in the empty hallway. How she got there, she didn’t know; but it all seemed so familiar, almost like a dream. Only she didn’t know if it was a nightmare.

The clanking of the chains could be faintly heard from miles away as the hallway seemed to have no end, blending into the darkness.

Y/N took in her surroundings, looking from left to right and finding not a soul that could tell her what was going on. The humidity of the walls started to cling to her skin, making it seem like her gown was becoming heavier and heavier the more time she spent standing on the cobblestoned floor.

Then, a small, faint light came from one of the rooms hidden in the hallway. A candlelight gleam illuminated her path of darkness as she felt compelled to it, feeling the need to follow it. So she did.

The closer she got to the light the more real things started to become. Y/N was starting to feel as if this was not a dream anymore, a memory perhaps? She could feel the warmth of the light gracing her cheeks with every step she could, and, if she paid enough attention, even the sound of laughter would brush her ears.

The laughs were heavy, grave and she guessed it must come from a group of men. They were laughing at something, yet she couldn’t see what just yet nor she could hear anything besides the laugh and a faint sound of a whip, thinking that maybe they were just messing with the horse’s equipment as the drunk guards used to do back at RoseWood; Calum always hated that but they were always nice enough to pay back whatever they might’ve broken.

Could she be back at the stables? Was her mind playing with a forgotten memory?

Still, the crackling of the whip grew louder and louder as well as the laughs that couldn’t hide it anymore. But that's all it was. A whip and laughter, nothing else. So why did her heart beat faster as she approached the slightly ajar door?

From the small crack, she witnessed a group of men dressed in black, a red rose embroidered in their chests as they carried the RoseWood symbol with pride. They were drunkenly laughing at something -or rather someone - that Y/N couldn’t see just yet. She examined the men’s faces and couldn’t recognize them as his father’s guards, they weren’t the guards from the woods nor any that you’ve met before.

Yet, they seemed to be having the time of their lives as one of them grabbed the leathered whip from the other’s hand, laughing as he swung it over his head until it crashed with a surface while the others started to count.

Trying to get a better view - or at least an idea of what was happening - Y/N pushed the door open just a crack, hoping none of the men realized as the wooden door squeaked against the cobblestone, luckily they were still entertained with what was happening at the other corner.

The first thing the Princess noticed once she got a clearer view was the blood. So much blood scattered around the room in little splashes, pooling down in the middle. She felt her whole body tremble, feeling sick just looking at it, remembering the last time she saw so much red when Calum was captured.

Still, she couldn’t look away. It was almost as if her eyes were glued to the gruesome scene, following a trail until it landed on a target.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears; a scream threatened to escape her throat as she covered her mouth with both her hands to silence it. Her knees started to buckle and she felt as if she could throw up all over again, completely horrified at what was in front of her.

With a manacle on each wrist, each hanging from opposite wooden pillars and keeping his arms open wide, unable to sit or to let his body fall from the physical trauma, stood Ashton with his back completely open and bloody.

In front of him stood a small, dirty mirror where Y/N could see how he could barely keep his eyes open anymore; biting on his lip with each crack of the whip, making him lean forward and letting the manacles cut his wrist when he did so. Still, he didn’t say a word as the guards kept counting and Y/N didn’t want to know how many rounds they got before she got there.

Ashton’s hair fell in front of his face, stuck in sweat and blood to his forehead as his face changed with every hit of pain, only adding to his anger.

“C’mon, lads!” One of the guards laughed “Gotta be a lot proper with the royals now, don’t we? Start the count again, and this time do it more… gently”

The guard stood up and handed his friend another leathered whip, the only difference was that this one held spikes at the end, making sure to cut through the skin at just a simple touch.

Y/N watched in horror at how her brother’s back arched as he bit down his tongue, barely even opening his eyes to glance at the small mirror hanging in front of him, and she could swear that just for a moment, his eyes met hers before receiving another blow.

Unable to stand it any longer, Y/N barged into the room, making all of the men stop what they were doing as they stared down at her with eyes filled with fear as the man threw the whip on the floor.

Without wasting a breath, she ran to Ashton’s side and stood in front of him, trying to wipe some of the blood out of his face. But before she could say anything, she noticed how her brother’s eyes changed and were now filled with rage directed at her.

“You did this,” He said through gritted teeth, spitting blood at Y/N’s cheek.

Shocked and scared, Y/N looked around the room and found it empty.

“What?” She asked out loud, looking over at Ashton who also disappeared in thin air.

Her breathing became elaborated as she searched the room, trying to find any evidence that someone was there. Yet, when she turned around all she could find was the mirror and a different set of eyes looking straight at her.

For in that moment, her reflection wasn’t hers; it was her father, looking back with a proud smirk at the monster she thought she was.

The sudden shake of the ship made her jolt awake, taking in her surroundings with wide-open eyes as she tried to remember the dream she just had.

Her mother used to say that dreams are made of people’s greatest desires and fears; they could come from a memory or a premonition of the future and should never be taken lightly, for a dream was just as important as a thought. Dreams are the thoughts we don’t dare to say out loud.

A chill ran down her spine as her father‘s eyes were engraved in her memory; so cruel, so proud… Was she like him in a way when she ran away, leaving the ones she loved behind? Taking the easy way out, would he have done the same?

The simple thought of that made her blood run cold. She was not cruel; she was not a monster. She did what she needed to do to survive and make sure that Calum was safe. She made the only choice she could make but, would everyone understand that? Or would they just see her as her father’s daughter?

The sheets shifted slightly as Y/N’s eyes finally landed on Calum, the only comfort she had. She ran a hand delicately through his shaved curls, thanking the gods that they allowed him to sleep peacefully at least for one night and that she didn’t wake him up with her nightmare. He’s been so restless lately, she just wished to share some of his grief with him. She already put him through a lot, he deserved some peace of mind and she wants nothing more than to be able to provide that for him; let them be just themselves like they were in the woods, away from all fears and terrors and villains… just two kids playing around with fairytales and horse rides, so in love and with nothing to fear.

After a while, it became obvious that Y/N couldn’t go back to sleep so easily. With a sigh, she got off the bed, kissed Calum’s temple as he started to lightly snore, and wrapped herself with her robe as she exited the cabin; looking for a distraction in the middle of the star-filled sea.

Y/N closed her eyes when the cold night breeze graced her face, making her hair fly as she walked barefoot through the deck. All members of the crew and the volunteers were sound asleep.

She got closer to the board, looking straight ahead at the vast sea as her fingers grip the wood of the rails. They were still a few days away from getting to The Vail and once they get there, they have to start their strategies, plan the trips, know how many people to take, embark on the journey… who know how long it’ll be till they reach RoseWood again, but they were determined to do so. She knows Luke and Michael won’t let her down and they’ll do everything they can to get Ashton back and her father out of the throne; she knows she could trust them.

“Can’t sleep, Your Highness?”

Y/N jumped at the sound of a voice coming from the shadows of the quarterdeck, placing a hand over her heart as she watched Sir Jefferson emerge from the dark corner, smiling kindly at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Princess” He apologized, raising his hands in defense.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about it before talking from the shadows” Y/N sighed, looking back at the sea “We never know if the person hiding there is a friend or a foe, Sir Jefferson”

“And where would you place me, Your Highness?” He asked, taking a step closer to her “Friend or foe?”

“Am I talking to the same man that hurt my husband in training? Then, I’m not sure”

“It was a friendly match,” Jack said, leaning over the board and placing his elbows on the wooden planks as he looked at the sea as well.

“A match is still a match. You were lucky it wasn’t a duel” Y/N rolled her eyes “Either way, I don’t particularly understand the need men have for violence. For practice and self-defense, I get it. But to draw blood from innocent people… Seems barbaric”

“It’s in our system,” He shrugged. “Men search for violence even when they claim peace. We all know our nature and how far we can go, trying to push it beyond those limits until we reach the glory at the end. Even the most compassionate of men could tell you about the temptations of power and blood, maybe by doing things they know it’s wrong just to have a little taste of what it feels like”

Y/N’s mind couldn’t help to wander over to Ashton again, on how he played a part in scattering crows around the kingdoms in order to favor their father. He said he didn’t know why, but he still went ahead and did it; and even though she believed him, she also wonders if he ever at least had a slight idea of what he was doing.

“And once a man gets a taste….” Jack continued, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Y/N’s clouded eyes “It becomes part of him”

“That’s awful”

“But it’s true. We cannot escape who we are, no matter how much we try to run away from it. If it’s in our blood, then it’s fate’s design to follow it”

The crow noticed how, suddenly, Y/N’s eyes started to water as she hugged herself even tighter. And for a moment, just a slight moment as the moonlight graced her face, he felt pity for her.

“The sea is quiet tonight,” He said, changing the topic to spare the little Princess, at least for tonight.

“I don’t suppose it makes much noise anyway” She answered, quickly brushing away a stray tear that escaped her eye “It’s just water”

“Careful with your words, Princess” Jack smirked “Or they might hear”

“Who?”

“The mermaids”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows “That’s a fairytale, Sir Jefferson”

“Only to those who refused to believe in them,” He said “My mother used to tell me these stories, about pirates and adventures, but her favorites were always about the women who hide in the deep ends of the ocean. The mermaids are the protectors of the seas. Some legends say that mermaids are women who’ve been thrown out of their ships as a sacrifice to the gods; others, that the creatures were created by the gods themselves as a punishment for those who wander without the purest of hearts. They seek vengeance and justice, luring people of all around the world with their voices and deceiving them as they make them fall in love with fake promises and lust, sinking them into the sea with them. And, once they’ve realized they can’t breathe anymore, that’s when they show their true form. It’s a lesson, I suppose”

“Of what?”

“Never trust the beauty unless you can see the soul behind the eyes,” Jack said seriously, looking at Y/N “There are horrible people out there, Princess, hiding in their pretty clothes and all their riches, thinking they know it all just because they have it all. But no one is sinless, they know what they did”

The wind blew strangely, whistling through the sails as Y/N took in his words. No one is pure of sins, but could they ever repent them? She wrapped herself tighter in her robe, watching the crow’s back attentively as his eyes wandered over to the water, humming to himself an old siren’s song.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold”

His voice was deep and rough as he sunk into a memory, thinking about his mother and all that was taken from him for people like the King; they always have it all yet they don’t care about their people, going on about their lives celebrating meaningless accomplishments as their people die on the streets. If he could get some of that power; if he could make them pay… And he will, by the gods he will.

Jack became no one of many names throughout his life, fighting to be the best in everything he does so when the moment comes, everyone will scream out his name in glory and gore.

“It’s getting late, Princess,” He said after a while, turning his head toward her “You should go back to bed”

Y/N’s lips parted as she stared at him; his eyes held something deeper than just a memory, they were cold and somewhat cruel as he looked at her, but only for a second as his signature smile was back on his face in the blink of an eye, making her wonder if she’d just imagined the familiarity of that glare.

“We still have a long way to The Vail, and around this time of year their days tend to be longer, so there won’t be much resting once we get there” He smiled.

Y/N nodded “You seem to know a lot about The Vail, Sir Jefferson. Have you ever been there before?”

Jack nodded with a sigh as he pointed to the scar on his left eye “Fearless warriors, they say. I have to admit they were right”

“They are a peaceful Kingdom and have been for decades” The Princess questioned him “Their King is one of the kindest souls I know, and to my knowledge, they only use violence for training and nothing more since the wars are over. I still don’t understand how you managed to get that scar on a Kingdom with people like that”

“Well, appearances can be deceiving, Your Highness. You just never know who to trust” Jack said gravely, gracing his eyes to the floor before looking up at her again “But that might be a story for another day, you should get some sleep”

“I don’t think I can, really,” Said the Princess “But that shouldn’t keep you up, my Lord. I’ll be fine”

Truth was, Y/N was still pretty shaken from her nightmare and the words from Sir Jefferson, feeling a sense of warning running through her mind. For some reason, she didn’t feel safe and was relieved when Jack seemed to understand and nod.

“Perhaps I have something that could help you, Princess,” He said, reaching into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulling out a folded handkerchief “I always carry some with me, just in case”

Jack opened the small piece of fabric revealing a couple of dry leaves on it.

“It helps you sleep,” He said with a smile “You just have to put them in water, cold or hot, and drink it after ten minutes. Works like a charm, or at least that’s what my mother used to say and I never found any fails to that logic”

Y/N smiled kindly, taking a couple of leaves in her hands as she looked at them, furrowing her brows just slightly.

“Are you certain this would help?”

“Extremely”

She nodded, “Thank you, Bernard”

He smiled at her one last time before she turned around and hurried to her cabin once again, speeding up the pace once she was out of sight from the decks, opening up the heavy wooden door and locking it instantly as her breathing became heavy and beams of sweat started to cover her face.

With heavy hands, she went to the small desk in the room, sitting in the chair and lighting up the candle; wasting no time in grabbing a leaf and burning it.

From the moment she saw them she knew what they were, she remembers seeing them in one of the Maester’s lessons.

“This is called La Torture De Méduse, an ancient poisonous leaf that causes a complete body paralysis, starting from the legs, then the torso and the arms, and lastly, the brain and the rest of the organs. All without the victim knowing since it makes the poor soul who ingested it fall into a deep slumber as their bodies die slowly. One can literally become stone, hence the name of this vile creation of the gods. Luckily, it is easy to identify if you notice the little green dots on the petiole and midrib. Do not ever go near them and if you do…”

Destroy them.

And that’s exactly what Y/N was doing as she watched the second leaf burn into ashes. Her mind was running a thousand kilometers per hour, trying to find an excuse for Sir Jefferson who so kindly and so naively, gave the leaves to her. He said that it helped him sleep, but these could not be the same leaves he talked about. If he ever drank the beverage created with them, then he should be dead already.

Unless he knew exactly what he did by giving her the leaves, expecting to receive the news of her untimely death the next morning when Calum finds her cold next to him. But why would he do that to her? They barely know one another and she has done nothing to wrong him. Nothing made any sense...

“Rose?” Calum’s voice alerted Y/N as she pulled the leaf away from the fire, letting it fall with the remaining others onto the desk “What are you doing, my love?”

She hesitated to answer. She couldn’t lie to him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to accuse an innocent until she got further proof of his wrongdoings, afraid she’ll become like her father.

If she tells Calum about the leaves and what they do, he will kill Jack with no hesitation and he’ll be sent to trial again, only this time he might serve time for real or worse: he’d be sentenced for murder. The law does not care if it was in self-defense, as far as the court will know, Jack never intended to hurt the Princess and it might’ve been just an honest mistake. And Y/N was not ready to lose Calum again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She tells him a half-truth, leaving what happened with Jack aside “Thought I could use some air and then I came back here”

Calum rolled to his side, watching her with sad, understanding eyes “I know how difficult this must be for you, my rose. And I wish I could take some of that pain away from your eyes and hide it somewhere where you’ll never see or feel it again in your life. But all I can offer you is the promise that I’ll be here through it all with you, my love, we’ll be home soon”

“You’re my home, Cal,” She said “You’ve always been my home”

“Then come back to bed and let me hold you,” He said softly “Let us fight these nights together and share our mornings hand in hand. You’re not alone in this, my rose”

“And neither are you”

He beckoned her with his head and she smiled softly at him, turning around to blow out the candle and hide the remaining leaves on the pocket of her stash without him noticing it, promising herself to get to the bottom of it soon.

Calum wrapped his arms around her waist as he pulled her close, kissing her forehead as she laid on his chest with her head tucked under his chin.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N” He whispered against her hair as his fingers drew figures on her back.

“Only because I have you with me,” She answered, kissing the side of his neck “I love you, Cal. Please, never leave me”

“Not in this life or the next, my love” He replied, drifting to sleep again with her chest pressed against his “Not in this life or the next”

Still, with Calum fast asleep next to her, Y/N could not phantom getting back to her dreams as she watched the moon disappear into the sea through their small porthole, hoping that the sirens would hear her pray and lure her to sleep in the midst of a dreamless sea.

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @conversecake @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @hoplessromantic727 @fivesecondsofonedirection @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @fakebetch9694 @5sos-imagine @SunflowerAngel2123 @perfectnouis @in-superbloom @lukeisstillapenguin @sadcupofcoffee @superstarmarvel @personalmuyverypersonal @cnco.angels @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @lolzkye @weasleytwinscumslut @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash @alltimepogue @wontlastimokwiththat t @ttinahood @lukespitinmymouth @perfectnouis @cncoangelss @darrensos @whywontyoulovemecami @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @yeah-and69 @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @tpwkcth @f-mu @kindahumanbutalsoinsane @floweronyourskin @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou @bittersweetb4by @aria-grace-scott @thestarsandtheircoffee @bvbygxrl @luisa180206 @xxxlaura @iamdayanaz

30 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Chapter 30

The last chapter for the second arc.

THE ROAD SO FAR

The Man with the Rubber Duck Tie

John Price

Victory Cruise Ship, Port of Dover, UK

"Hey. You!" A patrol guard called making Price, Ghost and Alexandra stop on their tracks. They were already on the narrow and unimaginably squeaky clean hallways of the bottom of the cruise ship.

Price immediately pointed his stun gun, toward the two, nodding as they slowly raised their hands in surrender. His eyes were telling them to follow along and it was great that the two were actually getting his message.

"I caught em Sir, they were trying to sneak into the party." Price reported, his knees bent and stun gun ready to shoot.

"They don't look like party goers. Perhaps spies?" The officer asked Price, slowly approaching the trio, Price looked up at Ghost's fingers twitching. Two. Price knew what it meant. There are two tangos, which meant one was behind him and in one swift move, they could help them escape the situation they're in.

Price quickly tossed his stun gun and did a swift duck as he lifted the officer beside him and slammed it on the ground, Ghost caught the gun and fired it straight at the enemy behind him, sending him into an electric shock. The two fell down unconscious in just five seconds and the three ran up to the main hall.

"Roach? Soap? Alex? Does anyone copy?" Price asked, sounding a bit angry. The ship was already moving and he hoped Gary already had Gold Bar for extraction.

"It's only me now, Price. They got Roach, they're on their way to the east hall, I assume it's to the captain's quarters." Soap panting, his shoes squeaking on the shiny floor.

Alex tried to reply but as the ship moved farther from the dock, the signal was breaking and all they could hear was crackling static.

"Gold bar is still at the VIP Lounge but we don't know who he is. Shadow Company's plan is to prevent anyone from going out of the hall while they find Gold Bar." Soap added shedding light on the actual plan. Price now set their course to the main hall.

Price wasn't great at the Ship's layout, this wasn't in the blueprints. They only wanted to check on the cargo, but they ran, looking cautiously on every corner, hoping to see a staircase that led upward.

Ryder and Ghost were behind him, covering his Six and checking corners as he focused on looking for a way up, on the last turn he finally found what he was looking for.

He climbed straight up to the main hall confidently. He still has his Shadow Company gear and while he's not compromised he could take advantage of it.

"I'm assigned to this staircase, Mate. Go find your own spot." he muttered angrily, almost wanting to push the guard away. It actually worked as the former guard stepped back cautiously and walked away without a fight. Guess he saw it as an opportunity to rest. As soon as the British captain took over the spot, he immediately signaled Ghost and Ryder to move up and blend with the crowd.

"I actually got it." Soap whispered.

"I met a redhead with Roach's rubber ducky tie. He said they swapped ties. Since Roach was caught, that means…" he added.

"Rubber Ducky man is our Gold Bar." Price stated, never in his life would he have realized that that sentence would make sense, but it did.

"Exactly." Soap affirmed. Price now knew who to look for. The man with the Rubber Ducky Tie.

Price signaled Ghost and Ryder to look for Gold Bar. The strobe lights were flashing and it was making him dizzy, he actually had to sit this one out. The younger ones might be able to spot him.

The ship was increasing its speed as soon as it reached the fifteen minute mark. This meant trouble for the team as the faster they went, the farther they were from the dock. It'd be hard to protect a hostage for three hours without an exit.

Price stared at the flashing dance floor, it looked like he was blinking too fast and people inside were teleporting or flashing in and out of the place.

Party goers were being surrounded by the guards, they were being restricted from getting away from the main hall, as some were trying to enjoy the view of the deck.

Five minutes in and Alexandra Ryder emerged from the crowd, dragging along a very drunk man. As soon as he was close enough to vision and away from the strobing lights, Price confirmed the tie. This was their primary target.

"Let's get this one to safety and rescue Roach." Price muttered as Ghost immediately followed behind Alexandra, stepping down to the lower part of the ship where the rooms are.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Victory Cruise Ship - Captain's Quarters

Roach found himself sitting on a chair, bound and unable to move. A potato sack covered his head, restricting his vision. He doesn't know where he is. But he does recall the last moments before he got there.

He was bouncing to the beat, trying to blend in with the party. He was by the door, cautiously spying on the three musketeers or huge guards as they looked for Gold Bar. Soap's instructions were clear. They're going to get someone they were tracking before the ship leaves.

Roach found it suspicious that they weren't moving an inch, so his guard went up and eyes locked on the richest people near the door.

Two girls, and one guy. Judging from intel, he knew that it was the guy. He was Gold Bar. Bouncing casually, he squeezed his way to his target and tried to talk to him, but as soon as he tried to save him, electric current coursed through his body, sending him to a shock as he dropped unconscious to the ground. His last thoughts were why and was he compromised?

"Gold Eagle. We have Gold Bar." Gary squirmed and tried to break free. He could hear a taser crackle as he attempted to escape.

"Great. I'll start contacting his father. I'm sure he's willing to donate a wealthy sum of money for his son's safety." Gary squirmed once more, this time it was strong enough to tilt the chair, but he was immediately pulled back.

"Let me identify the hostage. Take a picture of him." Shepherd said. If he was here, the team could easily end this man, right here and right now.

Gary's eyes squinted as soon as they pulled the potato sack, the harsh light blinded his eyes and it took moments for him to actually recover.

"This isn't our Gold Bar! He's blonde! It's supposed to be redhead!" He angrily yelled at the speakers. He wasn't here. And Gary had a hunch that Derek was their gold bar.

"But sir, we followed the tracker." One grunt complained.

"What tracker?!"

"I placed one on the target's tie. The event had strobe lights and he was difficult to spot."

Gary realized the chain of events that led to him here. Derek just wanted the rubber ducky tie to get attention and the moment they swapped, all eyes were on him. That's why they didn't move before the countdown.

"Wait a minute. Isn't this… a former 141?" Shepherd mused.

"Sanderson. What are you doing here?" the former general asked. Gary didn't want to answer.

"Partying." he spat. But Shepherd knew it's a lie.

"First you stole Samantha, my bargaining chip and now you're messing up with my gold bar?!"

"Shadow Company. Activate Intruder Protocol!"

he ordered.

Intruder Protocol. Gary had no idea what it meant but as soon as he said it, their shoulder patches started glowing blue.

"Detain everyone without a patch. Take them all as hostages." he ordered.

"As for you, you will walk the plank." Shepherd's angry stare was the last thing Gary saw before the television turned off. Guards started tying him tight and pushed him to the deck. Gary always loved watching Peter Pan as a kid, and it was a shame that his life is in danger the same way as in the movie.

Gary could take these three men pushing him to the deck, provided he wasn't tied up and he had weapons. Any act of violence towards them is an act of foolishness. And he only considers himself a fool for love.

He obediently followed the three musketeers on the way to the dock. Intruder Protocol was in effect as the party stopped and everyone without the glowing beacon was inspected and placed inside the heavily guarded rooms.

He hoped that the rest of his team were successful in securing and extracting Derek out of this mess. But then again, these rich party goers are already sufficient enough to fund the whole nuke project. A win-win for the Shadow Company. If only there was a way to stop them from mugging these people. A grand diversion.

Gary was already near the edge of the ship, the raging dark sea was calling out to him. Despite the life and death situation, all he could worry about is Shepherd's failed plan that still turned out successful. It was frustrating.

One step. The stun baton was turned off but it was being used to push him more. He wanted to buy more time. But it looked like it was the end of the line for him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Victory Cruise Ship - Hull Area, UK

"Shepherd's a wise man. If he can't get what he wants, he'll find another way even if it is risky." Price's words stuck on his head as he ran to the hull. Shepherd's a madman and if a good guy gone bad is capable of doing this, then Nero's far worse.

Clutching the c4 charges, he stealthily maneuvered the hull. Without a beacon glowing on his shoulders, he was a threat to everyone, at least that's what he noticed.

Titanic. They're going to blow up the hull, slowly sinking the ship. He doesn't have to worry about help as Price told him it's already on the way. Whatever that meant, Ghost had no choice but to follow.

The charges were set and he was on his way out, climbing the metal stairs without making a sound.

"Price, charges are set." he muttered to Alexandra, and she relayed it to the Captain.

"He said detonate it now." Ghost carefully paced as far as he could and clicked the remote detonator. A huge explosion followed making the ship tremble a little as alarms started to ring.

Ghost attempted to regroup with Price, but the way to their room was already crowded with the Shadow Company, so he instead ran up to the deck and circled around.

As soon as he got up, he noticed three tall men circling someone and pushing him off the ship. He couldn't mistake it, it was Roach.

He dashed toward the three as he saw Soap dash from the other side. They both pulled the of the tall guards and punched them unconscious but there was still one remaining. And that one grunt happened to push Roach off the ledge.

Ghost tried extending his hand but with Roach's hands tied up tight, all he could do was scream as he fell down to the ocean. Soap knocked the third person out and they were now clear. Ghost wanted to jump and save Roach, but without a rescue boat, it was useless. He remembered that help was on the way and hoped they would rescue him. Roach has to survive. Roach will survive.

"Needing assistance here. They're after us!" Price muttered over comms. Ghost slowly stood up and turned back. He was never going to forgive Shepherd for what he did.

END OF PART 2

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #alex echo 3 1 #john price #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes

20 notes · View notes

supergay-supergirl · 4 years

Text

why supergirl season 5 was actually good: sort of an essay

This has been sitting in my sticky notes for months and I figured now that I have a Supergirl blog, I can actually post it.

People love hating on Supergirl Season 5. And I get it. I admit that it had a lot of problems. But I did like the season overall, and there's enough out there about Season 5’s problems, so here is a post about some things that were great about Season 5!

1. Lena’s Arc

Apparently everyone hates how this was executed, but I really liked it. I like how 5A allows her to scheme and lie and altogether explore the darker (Luthor) side of herself, because only after experiencing what she’s been afraid of becoming can she fully come to know herself. I like how in 5x07, she gets to scream and cry, to express to Supergirl how much she’s hurting, and how betrayed she feels. I like how in 5x13, Kara finally accepts that Lena joining Lex was not her fault, and that she didn’t deserve to be manipulated (“From now on, you’re accountable for your own actions.”). I like Lena’s growing obsession with erasing human pain through 5B and the fact that we know exactly where her motivations come from, and we feel for her because we’ve seen how much pain she’s in herself -- but at the same time, we can still oppose her ultimately villainous actions, which leads us to hope for her redemption. (A lot of this is due to Katie McGrath’s stellar acting as well.)

I love how the season shows just how much Lex’s continual abuse and manipulation affects her, and shows her standing up to him at the end. I wish they had focused more on Lena instead of pushing her aside in favor of Lex in 5B, but overall I liked how they expanded on the Luthor sibling relationship from Season 4, even if it was missing some of the complexity of the previous season. And finally, I love the way Lena fights so hard to regain Kara’s trust in 5x19 (and succeeds!). It felt like there was more of a balance between the two starting from 5x13, where previously it had always been Kara apologizing and trying to gain Lena’s trust.

2. Supergirl’s New Look

PANTS. PANTS. PANTS. PANTS.

For Season 4, Kara the Reporter got a more professional wardrobe as she began to mentor Nia, and the switch to pants feels like the same thing for Supergirl. It completes the transition from “young adult” to just “adult.” It may have been reasonable to call Kara a “girl” in Season 1, but by now, she is an adult woman, and I’m glad that her wardrobe reflects that.

I was opposed to Kara’s bangs at the beginning of the season, but they have definitely grown on me. Like the pants, I think they mark an important change in Supergirl’s character, one that is better appreciated by the audience than the characters. Now, when I rewatch previous seasons, I think, “Wow, Kara looks so different now.” I didn’t think that when I rewatched episodes after Season 4. The bangs are a way to identify Adult Kara as having changed a lot from how she was at the beginning, and like the pants, I feel like they complete her transition into adulthood.

(But are the writers expecting us to believe that nobody who knows Kara would be suspicious that Kara and Supergirl got bangs on the exact same day? Seriously.)

3. Eve Teschmacher

In Season 4, Eve Teschmacher was a brilliant, eager-to-please young woman who (whoops) turned out to be evil. And she was great. But I was dissatisfied with her betrayal because it came so out of the blue, and it was a complete 180 without much buildup at all. Season 5 gave her the humanity that she was lacking, first with her mom, then with her desperation not to have to kill. Not to mention, some pretty badass fight scenes.

4. J’onn’s Swagger

J’onn’s storyline in Season 5 is not nearly as deep as in Season 4, and I see that as a good thing. Season 4 J’onn was wonderful and necessary, but in a season that has a lot of strong development for Kara and Lena, it was nice to have a relatively static character who’s at a good place in his life. Season 4 let J’onn discover the man he wanted to be, and David Harewood brings a new confidence to Season 5 as a result of that. It’s fun to watch him strut around in his supersuit and say normal things as if they’re great proclamations. It’s nice to see the happy, healthy adult relationship between him and M’gann. The easy trust they have with each other causes them to act more like they’re married than dating, as opposed to the younger characters who are often caught up in relationship drama.

5. Kelly Therapy Face

All the characters need a therapist, and they finally got one! Well, Kelly is technically a psychologist, which I believe means she could be a therapist but is not necessarily? I don’t know things. Anyway, it’s nice to have a calm, supportive presence in the group, and this effect is helped by Kelly Therapy Face. Kelly Therapy Face is the face Kelly makes when she’s listening to you talk about your problems. Kelly Therapy Face and her generally calm presence bring down the interpersonal drama of the group and solidify the idea that all these people are growing into full adults, with adult relationships and adult responses to issues. Their emotions are stabilizing, they’re building stronger support systems, and they’re gaining a better understanding of how the world works and their places in it.

This is more of a Season 4 thing -- this season really didn’t give Kelly the screentime she deserved -- but I also love how even though Kelly acts as a source of support for others, her own fear and trauma are rarely glossed over (see: the end of 5x05). This gives Kelly a humanity and realistic quality that many emotional-support characters don’t get. It also shows the key difference between Dansen and Sanvers: whenever Alex and Maggie had conflict, they swept it aside rather than working through it, leading to their eventual breakup, but when Alex and Kelly have conflict, they listen to each other and try to fix it. In accordance with their adult-ness, Alex and Kelly also seem to be in agreement that it’s okay to have conflict in their relationship (“And I might not know every little detail about you yet, but I know you,” 5x02).

6. Reality Bytes

Calling attention to violence against trans folk, exploring Dreamer’s dark side, and showing the strength of Kara and Nia’s mentor-student relationship in one episode? Just. Yes. Either Nicole Maines was projecting a lot or she’s a really good actor (probably both), but either way, as a trans person, I felt this episode on a personal level: the anger, fear, and frustration at knowing that your community is being targeted and the people you’re supposed to trust (i.e. the police) are probably not going to do anything about it. Additionally, Kara and Nia’s conflict in 5x15, and the fact that Kara compares Nia’s experience to her own, is a great marker of how far Kara has come. In Season 1, Supergirl felt a similar anger and hurt when villains sought her out, but by now, she’s more at peace and can offer Dreamer reassurance and comfort.

7. Brainy’s Plot

Brainy’s storyline in Season 5 is nice because it manages to remain stable as an important, but secondary, plot. It enhances the sense that there’s more going on than we realize and gives us a view into the scheming of the villains, while not taking over too much screentime or audience brainspace.

8. Jon Cryer

As annoying as it is that the writers gave up a lot of Lena’s screentime to Lex, Jon Cryer’s performance in Season 5 is just wonderful. He can go from acting totally in control to screaming in a matter of seconds. Lex Luthor is witty, assured, and charming in a weird way. On the other side of his personality, he is a madman who cares about no one’s interests but his own. Jon Cryer’s acting manages to package all this great but conflicting writing into a brilliant, awful, occasionally sympathetic villain who has more than his share of awesome (and terrifying) scenes.

9. Alex’s Grief

I like that Alex gets to let go of her emotions a little this season and express herself. Especially when Jeremiah dies before 5x16, Alex has a really tough time (and a mention of her possibly drinking problem! Expand, please!). She tries to escape from the pain of real life through virtual reality, but eventually realizes that she has to face her pain rather than avoid it, which is a major theme of the season. What’s great about 5x16 and the next couple episodes is that the other characters allow her to grieve. They could have told her to get over it and see all the happiness in the real world — it would have fit with the theme — but instead, they support Alex as she grieves. They listen without judgement when she expresses her anger that Jeremiah left and forced her to take care of Kara. Kara and Kelly are (mostly) understanding when Alex doesn’t want to go to Jeremiah’s funeral, and when Alex arrives late at the end of the episode, Kara lets her know how much she appreciates that Alex came at all. Throughout her life, Alex hasn’t had much opportunity to be herself and express her emotions, an idea that’s repeated over and over again starting from her coming-out arc in Season 2 or even earlier. Now that Kara can for the most part take care of herself and Alex has a good support system, she finally gets the opportunity to be vulnerable.

10. Andrea Rojas’s Moral Ambiguity

Is Andrea good or bad? Neither. She’s a person who wants love, success, and money, who does sketchy things to promote her company but also fights fiercely for her father and cares about the safety of her technology. Before Andrea, Lena was the main morally ambiguous character, and she could be categorized as “playing for her own team.” However, Andrea goes a step further, crossing into a territory I would call “not playing a game at all.” She’s just a human being trying to have a good life, and that causes her to do good things, bad things, and everything in between. In a show that often accentuates the difference between heroes and villains (“Don’t let them down by stooping to his level,” 5x15), Andrea is a reminder that most people aren’t good or bad -- they’re just living their lives.

TL;DR: They’re all adults now and Lena needs a hug.

#supergirl #supergirl season 5 #kara danvers #lena luthor #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #dansen #nia nal #dreamer #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #andrea rojas

16 notes · View notes

realmonsterboyhours · 4 years

Text

Lets address something with my art.

LISTEN UP COS I’M ONLY GONNA ADDRESS THIS SHIT ONCE AND ONCE ONLY So, believe it or not I get shit ALL the time in anon for my art style. I never reply because: 1.) I don’t want to give them the attention they want. and 2.) I genuinely don’t give a fuck if people don’t like my art. If YOU have an issue with my art YOU don’t have to interact. Interaction from that point on is a YOU problem that YOU should figure out why YOU feel compelled to try and force my art to be what YOU want instead of my own. So I literally most times don’t even read it the whole way, it just gets deleted. Now. This being said. The only reason I am currently writing this is to address it now is that it’s been moving into comments ON my art posts rather than just dipshits too scared to come off anon. People, you’re not getting a rise out of me. I’m not going to just CHANGE my art over night because one person didn’t like it because I have plenty of followers and friends out there who DO like what I draw. I like what I draw, so I genuinely don’t give a fuck what people think about my art. I don’t know you, I don’t care to know you, and tbh you sound like no one else wants to know you either. So unless you’re of some importance to me then I’m just flat out not gonna give a shit what you got to say. That’s just how it is.

So as an explaination to those I DO care about who see my art and may be wondering why I draw a certain way, lemme give you a little bit of background on my art career! And why I draw Beetlejuice the ways I do. For the past 7 years I drew porn for commissions REGULARLY. People paid me up to about $300 a piece for art from time to time. I had SEVEN years of drawing a VERY specific set of body types because that’s what people wanted from me. Seven years of drawing one body type does not make transitioning into fanart of a non-stereotypical “attractive” body type well. I gotta remind you that I hadn’t drawn consistently in about two years before I started drawing for this fandom, so not only was I JUST getting back into the swing of drawing. I ALSO had to fight seven years of learning and lack of practice drawing body types. So yes, my older art is definitely a lot worse than where I am now that I’m drawing near daily. But I have only been drawing again for about 6 months. I’m still re-learning my style. I’m still experimenting which is why everything is so inconsistent. On the other hand. I do want to strive to draw SEVERAL different body types because body types being represented is important to me. For me personally, I prefer to keep things realistic to me in my head, it’s just how it is. So for example, I like giving different body types to different AUs or different characters based on WHAT THEY ACTUALLY DO because I like the realism aspect of it. So for example: Incubus!Beetlejuice I tend to draw thinner by no means as a twig but thinner. He feeds off consensual sex, ad a gross, scary demon I don’t think he’s eating all the time, AND he’s fucking like a madman and putting all that energy out. Hence I imagine he would be on the thinner side. But someone like my GodNaga!Beej AU has a tummy, BUT he also has a LOT of muscle from moving around how he does. Hence his huge arms, and nice looking back muscles. My OG Beetlejuice I IDEALLY want to keep around Alex Brightman’s size. But now HEAR ME OUT. IM STILL LEARNING HOW TO DRAW DIFFERENT BODY TYPES. That standalone picture of Gamer!Beej I uploaded the other night was literally a practice at EXACTLY that. Improvement is a slow process in art, but I’ve came LEAPS and bounds already. I’ve gone from drawing him as basically a thin twink to giving them dad bods as is. I’m working on it. You guys have to be patient with me while I’m learning how to just let go and break out of 7 years of a comfort zone box I built. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was any dad bod. So just relax. And if you feel the BURNING rage in your guts to make a fool of yourself and comment some shit about how I draw, or how Beej doesn’t look how I draw him, go ahead and comment. You’re not gonna get a reply. You’re just going to get blocked, because I don’t care, I never have.

#hax post #personal #i wouldn't even call this a vent #I just don't fucking care my guys #get it off your chest if u need I guess tho bro #go off sis

35 notes · View notes

thelatelockdownlist · 3 years

Text

A Series on Series 01: Bridgerton

Hi. I’m Alex, a YouTube newbie.

I resurrected this channel mostly because I wanted to do this thing. It’s something I’d planned back in 2019 and never got around to it because I was too lazy. However… life happened and I thought that with everything that happened in 2020, I should stop procrastinating. So I did nothing in 2020 -- aside from the usual like work. I was one of the lucky ones whose only inconvenience really was being unable to go outside when I wanted to -- which, to be honest, wasn’t really that often. In ordinary circumstances, I don’t really like going out. But the thought of having an actual lockdown order PREVENTING me from going out, well, that’s a whole ‘nother thing.

So 2020 was a bust, but I wanted 2021 to be different. However long this pandemic is going to go, I wanted to make better use of my ‘free’ time.

On to the show. I’m doing A Series on Series, where I talk about my favorite book series. I figured since I read a lot of them, might as well talk about them right here. So let’s start with what’s currently popular: Bridgerton.

So I watched Bridgerton on Netflix the day it came out in my country, January 1.

I’d actually read the Julia Quinn series -- all eight books -- years ago. After I watched the first season, I went back and reread the first book in the series which is the basis for this first season.

Just a disclaimer: I’m watching this through the lens of someone who has read historical romance novels almost my entire life. I understand that there are a lot of issues that should/need to be addressed here like race. However, as I’ve read the books that this series is based on, I know the period in which it’s set. That is to say, the characters are mostly white and mostly straight. It’s the overarching theme of most historical romance novels.

With that said, it’s not to say that I won’t have comments about current issues that we see play out in the series, but I just want to ground this -- this whole thing -- on my own experience mostly because that’s really my frame of reference.

On the race issue, my comments are going to be from someone who is a person of color BUT has lived all of my life in a country, Philippines, where we’re really mostly just one race. There are a lot of biracial people in my country, but for the most part our issues are nothing compared to what black people have experienced and are experiencing everywhere -- especially in the U.S. What I’m saying is, I am aware of the Black Lives Matter movement and I agree with what they stand for and what they’re fighting for. What I’m also saying is that as a person of color who lives in a country with people who have the same skin color as I am, I don’t have the same issues of representation in the media. In OUR media here, I am very much represented. However, in the U.S. people of color are in the minority and struggle with representation. I’m saying that now because we’re going to come back to that later. Also most of my comments are going to be from the lens of someone who identifies herself as a decades’ long (yes, I’m aware that I’m aging myself) historical romance reader. However, even though I used to be the kind of reader who belongs to the ‘the author is dead’ school of thought, these days, one finds it difficult to divorce the author from the work.

From “The Death of the Author,” an essay by French literary theorist, essayist, philosopher, critic and semiotician Roland Barthes. Basically, it says that the author does not factor in the reading of their work -- that their words get to be interpreted by the reader however they may. The point is not to try to understand what the author’s intentions are, and just focus on the actual work itself.

I went to school for this so I’m going to have to balance the death of the author vs my own thoughts -- immediate and otherwise -- when it comes to what I read.

So we’re good? If not, I’ll come back to it -- if you’re still here. [wink]

So in this first episode of A Series on Series: Bridgerton, I’m going to talk about my impressions regarding the series and then point out the differences between the Netflix Season 1 and the first book, The Duke and I.

First impression of the series & some issues:

I was pleasantly surprised to see a black man play the Duke of Hastings.

In the book, he is described as tall, dark-haired and with ice-blue eyes.

Also a pleasant, surprise? Queen Charlotte played by a black woman.

You see, some historians believe that Queen Charlotte was Britain’s first black queen.

She was born the youngest daughter of a duke and a princess in the Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz in northern Germany. She married King George III -- yes, of Hamilton’s ‘You’ll Be Back.’

However, in this timeline set years after that, he’s more The Madness of King George.

Going back, historians are split about this because while some believe they can trace her lineage to the mixed-race branch of the Portuguese royal family and that the royal physician of her time described her as having a “true mulatto face,” other historians say that it’s never been proven.

History says that she might be black or she might not be. In the series, she is, and I had absolutely no problem believing from the get-go that the black actress playing her is in fact, Queen Charlotte.

Some people actually point out the casting of black people in the series -- not just the Duke and the Queen -- but others as well like Lady Danbury, the late Duke and the current Duke’s sparring partner, Will Mondrich -- as race baiting.

Merriam-Webster defines it as the making of verbal attacks against members of a racial group. But that’s the 1961 definition. However, its other definition says it’s the unfair use of statements about race to try to influence the actions or attitudes of a particular group of people. This, I think, applies better.

As someone who isn’t black, I feel like my opinion doesn’t hold much water here -- or at least not the ‘diamond of the first water.’ Yeah, yeah. I went there.

But for me, since the series creator -- who is white -- made a big deal of wanting a diverse cast and ‘colorbind’ casting, a lot of hype surrounded the casting of black people in these particular roles -- who are white in the book. I think certain expectations were set -- whether intentionally or not -- about what it means to cast black people in historically white roles. Hence, the issue of race-baiting.

Was that an issue for me? No. But I’m not black and I’m not the one who may or may not be baited. So what I say isn’t exactly something you can hang your hat on. However, I’ll say it anyway. I like the black actors who play their characters.

In the book, Simon is almost god-like because of how handsome he is. The actor who plays him, really hot. I don’t mind that he doesn’t have ice-blue eyes.

Lady Danbury is my favorite character because of her interactions with Simon and how fierce she is as a friend and aunt. She doesn’t feature much in the book.

Queen Charlotte, also not in the book, is great. I especially liked her in that scene with George who was lucid one moment and then crazed the next. I didn’t think this at the time, but she must have both pitied him and been afraid for herself because he did threaten her. And what does that threat really mean for her? Is it just for her? Or for her people as well?

Because as Simon says later during his conversation with Lady Danbury, their ‘elevation’ relies on the whims of this madman.

The late Duke, well, he was just mean. But that part, when he gets so mad that Simon can’t speak -- I sort of understand why he wants a perfect child. It’s self-preservation. He says that their situation is precarious, that what they have will only remain theirs as long as they remain extraordinary. I felt that vehemence there. While I don’t condone it -- after all, he’s doing this ranting at a child, his child -- I understand the reason behind it. Book OG Duke doesn’t have that reason.

The series kind of followed the book. There were certain departures, but it didn’t really bother me.

For those of you who have not seen the series and/or read the book and don’t want any spoilers, leave now.

Okay.

SPOILER ALERT

The first 9 minutes (more or less) in the series don’t actually appear in the book. But it does a good job of setting up this world. We’re introduced to the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons.

In the first book, the Featheringtons don’t really feature as much. Also, the Baron is dead there. Then there’s Marina Thompson, the Featheringtons’ distant cousin --

Not in the book.

Then there’s Lord Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton and his mistress’ (Siena) amorous activities -- also not in the book.

But I suppose it’s there to give us a glimpse of his character. You know, that he’s a playa.

Also, in the book, Daphne has come out -- as in debuted -- for nearly two seasons. In the series, it’s actually her first time hence the presentation to the queen.

Lady Danbury’s ball is in the book, but Daphne’s entrance which causes a stir due to her being proclaimed as ‘flawless’ by the Queen and --

#recordscratch

Did you think I’d forgotten about Lady Whistledown? Of course not. Especially when she’s voiced by Julie Andrews. I love that they chose her to be Lady Whistledown, but for the purpose of this comparison, I won’t be dwelling much on her, as much as I love Dame Julie Andrews.

#backtoourregularprogramming

Lady Whistledown as ‘a diamond of the first water’ doesn’t happen in the book. While book Daphne was by no means unattractive, according to her: ‘no one was dazzled by her beauty, stunned into speechlessness by her presence…’

Then there’s how Daphne and Simon meet. In the series, Daphne bumps into Simon accidentally, trying to escape Nigel Berbrook. In the book… it’s a little complicated.

First, there’s when and where (and really how their ‘grand scheme’ is concocted). In the series, it happens at Vauxhall Gardens where Simon overhears Daphne and Nigel Berbrook arguing. Then he discovers them after Daphne hits Lord Berbrook when he tries to assault her. Then Simon concocts the scheme with the dramatic cutaways of them rejoining the crowd as they watch the fireworks.

In the book, this actually happens at Lady Danbury’s ball (which we see in the series; the ball. The scene with Berbrook does happen, but it’s at the ball, off a corner. It’s how Daphne and Simon actually met. Anyway, it’s a whole coverup. They leave the unconscious Berbrook and they go back to the ballroom, separately.

Simon meets Daphne’s brothers and they end up introducing him to Daphne and they both agree to pretend that they’d never met before. Anyway, Simon gets all these looks from Lady Featherington and the other mamas and feels the need to escape. He then asks Daphne to dance.

THIS is where and when they concoct the scheme. The plan -- thought of by Simon, same in the series -- actually happens during this -- their first dance at that ball. AFTER their witty repartee, while waltzing. They multitask.

And unlike what happens in the series, the scheme didn’t happen because Daphne needed to be saved from ruin. Simon proposed it because he wanted an out from being stalked by ambitious mamas and offered it to Daphne AND this is a departure from the series -- to make her more desirable to other men.

See, in the book, Daphne always gets FRIENDZONED. I know, I know… but the term really does apply to her here. And with no malice, really.

They don’t view her as someone desirable. She says that she’s still unmarried “because everyone sees me as a friend. No one ever has any romantic interest in me. Except Nigel.”

So Simon’s reason of “men are always interested in a woman if they think other men are interested,” which he also says in the series is due to this.

So to sum up the difference: In the series, it’s to save Daphne from ruin; in the books, it’s so she no longer gets friendzoned.

So they both agree and the next day…

In the series, Daphne and Simon start to hang out and they go out on dates.

Kind of the same in the books, BUT they let Anthony in on the secret.

Anthony was incensed because Simon appears to be breaking the bro code. You know, the one where family is off limits? So they had to tell him. Of course he thinks it’s stupid, but goes along with it because he does see the benefits for Daphne.

In the series, Anthony is in the dark.

Anyway, the dates. BECAUSE this is a historical romance novel set in the regency period, book Simon isn’t quite so bold. The spoon scene?

Not in the book.

The scene where Simon basically gives WAP tips to Daphne?

Not in the book.

And the biggest plot in the series that isn’t in the book?

Yeah... he’s not in the book.

But the part where Anthony catches them in flagrante delicto?

That happens.

And the duel?

In the book.

The heartfelt speech to the queen?

Not in the book.

The scene where Mama Bridgerton tries (and fails) to explain the birds and the bees?

Happens. And it’s actually funnier in the book because Daphne asks her, “So you did this eight times?” (whisper) And her mother blushes furiously and says that, no, not just eight times because sometimes you do it because you like to.

Read the book. I found it funnier than the scene on Netflix. For one, Daphne is actually quite eager for this conversation “I’ve waited for this all week.” -- which shocks Mama.

The wedding?

Kind of the same, since Daphne only remembered the funny moments -- which were not shown in the series.

And I know you’re waiting for this: the wedding night.

Um, they were different.

For one thing, the ‘I burn for you’ line?

Not in the book.

In the series, their wedding night was pretty intense.

In the book, it starts out funny because remember Simon telling Daphne how he couldn’t marry her because he CAN’T have children? Well, Daphne -- having had what passes for sex education for women in Regency England -- thought that meant he COULDN’T have sex -- as in he’s impotent. Which sends Simon into paroxysms of laughter.

And then there was sexing.

But in the book, the sexing was confined mostly in the bedroom.

In the series, it was everywhere, including the bedroom. You know, the library (against a ladder), the mausoleum, in front of the swans near the lake

all to the tune of an orchestral version of Taylor Swift’s ‘Wildest Dreams.’

BUT

You know the course of true love never runs smooth. Our lovely couple has to hit a snag. And it’s in the form of animal husbandry, planting and a little putting of two-and-two together.

How Daphne finds out is sort of the same, but also different.

Like I mentioned before, I’d read this years ago. I’d forgotten about the particulars of this. So when I saw this scene in the Netflix series, I somehow sort of hazily remembered that that’s not what happened in the book. But as soon as I re-read it, I had to put it down. Not because the scene was well-written. But because I just had so many problems with it.

Which kind of makes me thankful that they changed it for Netflix. Because in the series, Simon doesn’t come inside Daphne but this is also what convinces her that he DID lie to her. Remember that earlier scene when Mrs. Colson, the housekeeper, tells Daphne the story of Simon’s parents? How his mother died in childbirth and how his father always wanted a son and blamed his wife when she miscarries? Then Mrs. Colson says, “A womb won’t quicken without strong, healthy seed.”

In the series, Daphne clues in to this when during one of their romps, AFTER she’d spoken with Mrs. Colson and the wheels started turning, she noticed Simon spend on her handkerchief. She then marches to her maid’s room and asks her for essentially a rushed version of sex ed. Then after Daphne and Simon have dinner, they have sex… and I honestly don’t know if Simon came in her or not. But that’s when she accuses him and Simon basically admits it, they then fight. From then on, their marriage becomes strained and they sleep in separate bedrooms. So that awful scene in the book doesn’t exactly appear in the series.

Book Simon comes home drunk because he and Daphne had been fighting because of THE LIE. He manages to convince her to stay with him in bed, and she does. Then she is awakened later and as she talks to him and starts basically caressing him in his sleep, he responds. Which she realizes that this is when she could do WHATEVER she wanted, have WHATEVER she wanted.

So she basically giddyups and rides him like a cowgirl and being super extra, impressing even Simon, as is written in the book. BUT things take a turn when he starts climaxing and she essentially uses what strength she has to pin him down so he couldn’t pull out.

He’s angry and is feeling betrayed and then he starts to stutter -- which makes him angrier, with her, with himself. He’s just a confusing mass of emotions at this point.

And then he leaves for one of his other estates. Daphne goes to London and her brothers visit. One day, she assumes she’s pregnant and sends a letter with Anthony to send to Simon. Simon receives said letter and promptly sets out for London.

In the series, this doesn’t happen. They’re basically living separate lives, apart from posing for a portrait, several social engagements and a ball.

In the book, Simon goes after Daphne who’d been out riding at Hyde Park and she tells him that as it turns out she’s not pregnant. They don’t exactly resolve things there, but at least they’re talking. Daphne’s brothers sort of accost them at Simon’s house demanding that he convinces them that he loves her. Which sort of terrifies Daphne, but Simon takes her to another part of the house and in there actually professes his love, which he does unknowingly in front of her brothers who followed them.

And then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.

In the series, we have sort of the same but in the rain. Not just the Bridgerton boys as audience, but all of their guests.

Then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.

In the series, it ends with Daphne giving birth to Simon’s heir. Then we see them saying good bye to Colin who’s off to tour the continent. Book Colin actually returned FROM the continent the night of Lady Danbury’s ball.

Then we get a hint of the next season, knowing that it’s going to be Anthony’s turn.

AT THE END OF THE DAY

What do I think?

Well, the series was HIGHLY entertaining. I enjoyed watching it, which, for me, is the chief purpose of TV shows like this. So that’s one box checked.

Was it faithful to the book?

Largely, yes. And whatever departures it made didn’t take away from the book, IMO.

Was I bothered about the ‘colorblind’ casting?

No. Like I said before, I had no problems believing the black actors were the characters they played. It wasn’t a shock and it certainly wasn’t distracting.

So I loved it; I may rewatch it from time to time while waiting for Season 2 as we go into Anthony’s story in, The Viscount Who Loved Me.

2 notes · View notes

el-gilliath · 4 years

Text

A Not So Easy Choice

Welcome to the kidnapping fic I’ve been teasing. Thank you to @winged-fool and @bestillmyslashyheart for holding my hand, reading and looking this over, as well as telling me no, you are not allowed to kill any more people.

Part 2 Ao3

WARNING: Implied minor character death (Mimi)

He feels everything in him go cold when he gets the texts. Opening them and seeing pictures of Mimi and Alex, bound with the words If you could only save one, who would you choose? Decide quickly, you only have two hours.

He knows instinctively who’s behind it, there’s only one person who would willingly use a woman like Mimi and his own son to try and get to him. He also knows without a shadow of a doubt that Jesse is one hundred percent sure Michael is going to come to the rescue.

A petty part of him doesn’t want to prove him right. But there’s no way he can leave them in Jesse’s clutches. But if he can only save one of them… How does he choose between his girlfriend's mother and the man he’s loved since he was 17. It’s an impossible choice, which means he needs help. He needs Isobel.

He throws himself into his truck and drives to Izzy’s house. She still lives in the house she owned with Noah, since ‘it’s a perfectly good house’. He doesn’t understand how she can handle it, but then again he never understood Isobel’s overbearing stubbornness. But it has saved her thus far, so he will continue to not say anything. But the day she’s ready to move he’ll be there.

But until then he has other things to think about. Like the fact that Jesse is a torturous madman. The drive from Sander’s to Isobel’s normally takes him 20 minutes. He manages it in 10.

He launches himself out of the car as soon as he’s stopped, making sure the doors are closed with his telekinesis as he runs into the house.

“Isobel! Isobel!”

“Why are you shouting, Michael?” She’s her usual haughty self as she comes into the hall from the living room, looking perfectly put together the way she always does.

“Jesse Manes has Mimi and-”

“Slow down, Michael. What do you mean Jesse Manes has Mimi?”

“I got a text. It has a picture of Mimi tied to a chair but it’s not… It’s not just Mimi.”

Isobel gives him a look he recognizes instantly. She’s given him the look many times over the year he’s been dating Maria. It’s a look she started giving him after the first time she watched him interact with Alex. After the first time she felt what he himself feels every time Alex is around. She doesn’t need to hear his name to know who else Jesse has, she can probably feel it through their bond.

“He told me I can only save one of them. And I only have two hours to decide.”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“It’s Jesse Manes,” he replies. “There’s no reason to doubt it. And as I said. Pictures.”

“Show me.”

He does, handing his phone over. He watches as Isobel looks at the text, scrolling through the pictures. He feels the deep sigh she releases as she hands back his phone in his gut.

“You need to tell Maria.”

“How the fuck do I tell her, Iz?”

“You just do.”

He doesn’t want to, but he knows Izzy is right. He also knows Maria is at the Pony, doing paperwork. He doesn’t want to tell her, but he knows that he has to.

“Okay. I guess we’re going now.”

-----

He gets another text on route. Who’s it gonna be, alien? The mother or the ex? 60 minutes left with another picture of the two tied to chairs.

He grits his teeth, inhaling and exhaling sharply as he tries to calm down. He’s mad, worried, shaking. Why is it always him?

Isobel takes the phone from his hand, replacing it with her own hand and holding him tightly. She knows exactly what he needs, his sister, she always does. And with Max still being dead… It’s just the two of them. Even if they are coming closer to the answer to that riddle.

“It’ll be fine, Michael, she’ll understand.”

“Understand what, Iz?” he asks.

“That you have to save Alex.”

He very much doubts that Maria will understand that, her mother is her whole world. And Alex. Alex is more competent than Mimi is, especially now with her confused state of mind. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if Maria wants him to save her mother instead of Alex. He doesn’t want to think about it.

But it doesn’t matter, he thinks to himself as he parks in front of the Pony and gets out of the truck. He’ll decide soon.

He strides inside the Pony, opening the door telekinetically as he nears it. He knows Maria doesn’t mind now that she knows about his powers.

“Maria?” he asks loudly just in case, he doesn’t want to scare her atop the shitty news he comes bearing.

“Inventory!” She yells back. He still hesitates in walking forward, hesitates enough that Isobel takes his hand and gives him another reassuring squeeze, their connection radiating with calmness. He squeezes back quickly in thanks before he gathers his everything and walks forward.

Maria is exactly where she said, behind the bar doing inventory. She grins widely, putting down her clipboard and getting out from the bar to greet him. She stops when she sees Isobel, their relations might be better but they’re not even close to friends yet, before visibly steeling herself and continuing to give him a kiss. He turns away slightly, so her kiss lands on his cheek and not on his mouth. He just can’t, right now.

“Hey,” Maria asks, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t want to tell her. He doesn’t want to see her face. He doesn’t want to-

“Jesse Manes has your mom.” He blurts it out, no softening, no censoring. Just blurts it out.

“What do you mean Jesse has Mom?” her voice is hard now, the furrowing of her brow deepening.

“I mean he has her hostage. And he’s giving me 45 minutes to decide-”

“Decide? Decide what, to save her? To go get her?”

He looks over at Isobel, just a glance to ask for help but Maria moves her head so he can’t really focus on her. He still sees Isobel mouth ‘Tell her’.

“Michael, wh- why are you even here if Jesse has Mom!” Maria’s voice is rising, panic setting in as she picks up on the fact that he’s completely serious. “If this is true you have to go!”

“It’s true, I have proof,” he says, and tries to show her the pictures. But Maria shuts her eyes, turns away and hides her face. He gives Isobel a helpless look, but Isobel just sucks her teeth before mouthing ‘Tell her’ again. Her face is a harder mask now, her annoyance not showing but still felt by Michael.

“I don’t want to see, I can’t see her like that! She’s already so vulnerable, I just can’t!”

“Okay, I won’t show you but Maria, I have to tell you-”

“No!” Her voice is pitching into screams now. “Just go and get my mom! She doesn’t deserve this!”

He wishes he could close his eyes and not be in this situation, not be in this predicament, not be in this place.

He doesn’t know how to choose, doesn’t know if he can. How do people make choices, like these, and live with them.

“Michael, you have to go save my mom!” Maria screams at him. “Please!”

But it’s not that simple. She doesn’t know that Jesse has another hostage. He doesn’t want to know what she would ask of him if she knew that Alex is also in his father's hand. Considering she knows one hell of a lot of what happened in the Manes household when he grew up.

He knows he should save Mimi, save his girlfriend’s mother. After all, Alex is an Air Force Captain, he’s gotten himself out of worse jams than this and Michael knows he’s probably capable of whatever he needs to do to get himself out.

But the thought of leaving him. Of letting him feel alone and abandoned. It reminds him too much of how he felt when Alex had to leave. So how can he leave him when he had the chance not to.

“What are you waiting for, Michael?! My mom needs you!”

Maria is getting decidedly more frustrated, the anger and fear in her voice clear as she yells. She doesn’t understand, he gets that. He might not have a mom anymore but he gets it.

“It’s not that-“

“If you try to tell me it’s not that simple I’m gonna hit you. My mom is in the hands of Jesse fucking Manes, the reason she’s like this, and you’re hesitating when you can go save her!” she seethes. “I know how he treated Alex growing up, I can’t let her stay in his clutches! It’s my mom, Michael!”

He shares another look with Isobel as Maria mentions Alex. Their relationship is not the best since he started dating Maria, though thankfully he and Maria managed to spare their friendship even if his spiral tried to fuck with that too. But Alex will always come if anyone needs him. And he knows, intimately, just how good Alex is at getting himself out of tricky situations. But leaving him with Jesse when he has no idea if Jesse would keep him alive or not, it shakes him to his very core, like acid burning through the inside of his stomach, like holding your hand over a fire as it slowly burns.

“Maria… I-”

“I’ve done a lot of shit, Guerin. Hurt people that I shouldn’t have, for you. I’m begging you, go get my mom. She doesn’t deserve any of this!”

He looks at Maria who’s watching him with tears rolling silently down her cheek. He doesn’t say anything, just swallows hard as he bites his tongue.

“You owe me.”

And he does. For the shit he put her through, for being stupid enough to try to ruin her friendship with Alex when he pursued her without even thinking about that, for all the times he hasn’t paid at the Pony, for all the times he’s taken it out on her and been in a mood when he’s fought with Alex. He loves her, he adores her. He can do this for her. Alex can get himself out, and he has to believe Jesse wouldn’t hurt him. He can do this to make up for the fact that he will always love Alex more.

“Okay. Okay,” he says, a grimace in the shape of a smile on his face as she throws herself in his arms, sobbing and whispering ‘Thank you’ over and over again. Isobel walks into his line of sight behind her, her patented ‘You’re an idiot’ mask firmly on. He knows he should’ve told Maria that it’s not just her mother that’s at stake, but he can’t. He has to keep her happy if he wants to keep her. She deserves to be happy with what she gave up for him.

He extracts herself from her grip a few minutes later, giving her a smile he hopes looks slightly more genuine, but probably doesn’t with the way she frowns.

“I have to go if I’m gonna do this. I need to get the location.” He kisses her on the forehead, cradling her face sweetly in his hands. “Stay with Isobel, you’ll be safe with her. I’ll be back as soon as I have her.”

He nods at Isobel, waiting for her nod back before he lets go of Maria and walks out of there. He ignores the thought of her frown as he texts the unknown number back, writing simply ‘Mimi Deluca’. He ignores it still when he gets a set of directions in reply. Maybe if he can ignore Maria’s frown, he can ignore how much it’ll hurt knowing that he’s leaving Alex to fend for himself. Even though he doesn’t deserve it, even though Alex always comes through for everyone else. He’ll do what Maria asked him to do and get her mom. It’s the right thing to do.

He wishes he could believe it himself.

-----

Maria watches Michael leave with a sour taste rising in her mouth. She was, she is, distressed, but now that he’s gone she knows there’s something he didn’t tell her. Her psychic sense is tingling, has been tingling since he came in but she ignored it when he started talking about her mom. But now she can’t anymore. Not with that grimace Michael had on his face as he left.

“Why did Michael have that look on his face?” she asks as she turns around to face Isobel. Isobel, who always looks impeccable in both manner and clothes, but right now looks a little nauseous as she looks down on the floor.

“What do you mean?”

It pisses her off that Isobel doesn’t even consider that she can see straight through her bullshit. That’s the thing with Isobel Evans, they might not be each other's biggest fan, but they’re far too similar not to know when the other is trying to lie or deflect.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Maria-“

“Isobel. What. Aren’t. You. Telling. Me,” she says. The edge in her tone is hard, and she narrows her eyes as Isobel sighs irritably. But she knows she’s won when Isobel opens her mouth.

“Jesse Manes might have your mother behind one door,” Isobel replies. “But he has Alex behind the other. And by begging Michael to save your mom, you might just have killed Alex.”

The room is silent for a minute, long enough for Isobel to get worried.

She’s deeply relieved that Michael’s already left when Maria lets out an anguished scream shortly after, screaming in anger and grief.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” she yells in between the tears.

“You didn’t give him a chance,” Isobel answers. And she didn’t, with her demands as soon as she heard Michael mention her mother. She still regrets being quite so straightforward when Maria bursts into tears. The only thing she can do is hug her close and let her cling to her as she cries. She just hopes Michael hasn’t lost the love of his life because he thinks he has to do everything Maria asks him to, just because he feels guilty that she almost threw away a friendship for her brother and because he still can’t stop loving Alex, regardless of his feelings for Maria. But Isobel also knows it’s not that easy.

She still really hopes Michael returns with Alex and not Mimi, cruel though it may be. She doesn’t think Michael will survive if he doesn’t.

-----

His heart beats fast as he nears the directions from the text. He can feel it racing in his chest, his breath quickening as he sees the old, decrepit house on the side of the road. He hates that his mind is telling him not to stop, to drive on. To send a text and ask for Alex’s location instead. He hates that he’s unable to let it go, even if he promised Maria.

He wants to go get Alex. He wants, he wants, he wants. But he won’t. Alex can get himself out, he has to. Jesse won’t hurt his son. He really hopes he won’t.

He forces himself to stop in front of the house, getting out of his truck slowly while he listens to his surroundings, listens in a way that Alex taught him to try and make sure nothing bad is hiding around him. He reaches out with his powers too, tries to feel if there’s anything around. But there’s not; as far as he can tell he’s alone. He still approaches the house slowly, carefully, but nothing stops him. Nothing jumps out, nothing seems weird. It’s just an old house on the side of the road, close to falling apart and decrepit as all hells.

It’s creepy. It’s also perfect for Jesse Manes and his own brand of torture.

He opens the, admittedly shabby, front door and looks inside. There’s nothing there. Nothing besides a door to a room that seems to have been switched out lately. The pounding of his heart intensifies, though it’s more of a hard beat than a race now. A hard beat of regret. He pushes onward still, walking over to the door and taking deep breaths. One. Two. Three. The handle is in his hand, and he wrenches it open before he can second guess himself, his telekinesis at the ready. He moves into the room and stops. He can’t help but feel a deep relief course through him.

“Alex.”

The sight of Alex sitting tied up in the chair in front of him makes him want to weep tears of joy. It makes him want to jump in joy and take his face between his hands and kiss him, deeply, truly, as he runs his fingers through Alex’s hair. It makes him want to love him forever.

It makes him the happiest he has ever been before. Before he remembers Mimi. The person he was meant to save. The person he promised to save. Who is now most likely dead. A part of him cries out in fear of what will happen with Maria, now. Now that he’s failed her too.

But Alex is here. Alex is alive. He can’t help but be grateful. It’s who he wanted to save all along.

Alex looks at him with an unreadable look on his face, before he looks down and a soft, sob like sound leaves him. Michael rushes over, talking nonsense as he unties him from the chair.

“Hey, Alex, hey, I’m gonna get you out of here, I swear,” he babbles, helping Alex stand, letting him lean on him as he groans when he puts weight on the prosthetic. Alex doesn’t really say anything, just lets Michael lead him to the car, lets him help him into the car and close the door. He doesn’t say anything as Michael gets into the truck himself and drives away from the old house. Doesn’t say anything as Michael asks him if he’s hurt, or okay, or in pain, just shakes his head or nods where he needs to. It makes Michael feel unsure, makes the grief of Mimi linger in his head because in many ways Alex doesn’t seem happy to see him, just blank. He doesn’t want to know what happened to him before he got there.

“Alex, I-”

“Where are you going?” Alex finally asks.

“I need to go to the Pony. I need to tell-”

“You need to tell Maria about Mimi. Yeah, Guerin, I know it was either me or Mimi. My dad likes to torture me, you should know that by now.” Alex shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Let’s just… Let’s just go.”

Michael can’t really do much more than nod, especially as Alex turns away to stare out of the window of the truck. He wants to console him, wants to hold his hand and make him feel better. He doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to, given that he didn’t actually pick him.

-----

They get to the Pony half an hour later. Half an hour in awkward silence that Michael can’t seem to break, a silence that Alex won’t break. He’s tried, asking him if he needs food or water or if he would prefer Michael to drive him home. Alex has just shaken his head every time. No answer, no noise, just a shake of his head. Michael is worried, so very worried. But he doesn’t want to pry.

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” he tries to offer. The derisive snort Alex releases tells him all he needs to know about that suggestion, so he just nods and gets out. Alex is just getting out of the car when the front door bangs open. Maria runs out, tears and hope on her face. She freezes as she sees Michael, as she sees Alex. Michael can see the way her teeth clench, how her hands tighten into fists, how she starts to slightly shake from trying to hold herself together. So Isobel told her then.

“Of course you picked him,” she bites out. “Of course Alex was more important than my mother.”

He looks at her, doesn’t know how to tell her that Jesse gave him the wrong coordinates. If he tells her Alex will hear, Alex knowing he didn’t pick him would be worse than Maria thinking he decided to leave her mother. He won’t think about why that is yet.

“And my mother is left in the hands of Jesse fucking Manes. How the fuck could you leave her with him, Guerin!”

She rages. He lets her. Lets her curse him to kingdom come, lets her yell all her hatred at Jesse and sorrow over her mom at him. He let her down, he knows what. He still can’t help but feel happy that Alex is alive.

“I should’ve known.” Her eyes fill with tears, her clenched hands releasing, her jaw softening. “I knew the second Isobel told me that you would show up with Alex. And I guess I can’t blame you, I know you still love him, after all.”

He opens his mouth to answer, but stops when Alex walks closer to Maria, taking her hands between his. She’s crying openly, big fat tears running in rivulets down her face. But the happy smile she gives him through her tears, her relief to see him makes Michael feel marginally better. Especially when she lifts his hands to her face and lays small kisses on them.

But Alex doesn’t look relieved, nor happy. He just looks full of sorrow and pain. Michael doesn’t understand, especially when a tear slowly rolls down Alex’s cheek as well. He doesn’t know what’s going to come out of Alex’s mouth as he opens his mouth to speak.

"He chose her," Alex answers for him. "He just didn't know Dad switched who was behind which door.”

All the air in Michael’s body stops circulating at that point. His heart beats faster in response, his hands start sweating, his nerves tick behind his eyes. No, no, no no nononononononono.

Alex scoffs. He extracts his hands from Maria’s, whose eyes are wide, shocked and distraught. Just like Michael feels to his very core. “I’m sorry about your mom, Maria. But I’m not sorry I’m alive.”

Michael can only watch in horrified shock as Alex turns and walks away. All thoughts of Maria are gone.

“The worst part is, I would’ve picked you,” Alex says as he stops a few feet off and looks back at Michael. “I always pick you.”

Michael doesn’t think he could feel worse if he tried.

#roswell new mexico #michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #my fic #isobel evans #maria deluca #mentions miluca #angst #ambiguous ending #maybe sorta hopeful ending

45 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 4 years

Note

Before the beginning for power through

Anon thank you so much for asking! I definitely meant to answer sooner, but this kind of took a life of its own. We don’t know a lot about the characters' background stories in Power Through yet, so I dug into Alex’s past. He’s about fifteen in this, and it’s not too spoilery but teases a little at what the story is about...

“Alex!”

Alex barely has time to look up before he's engulfed by a hug. “Oof, Liz, you're gonna suffocate me,” he says, trying to muster back the enthusiasm he hasn't felt about anything in a year.

“It's been so long! I can't believe you're here!”

Alex gently pushes Liz back to look at her. She's grown. Not a lot, not anywhere as much as he has, and he now towers over her. She looks older, she dresses differently, less like a little girl and more like a grown woman.

It hits him hard suddenly. It's been a year. He's been out of school, out of his normal life, for a whole year, and it's a year he's not getting back. It's felt like an eternity and a single day at the same time, but a year is such a long time to have lost.

And his life is never going to be his own again. He knows that. He may be out of hell for now, but he's never getting away from his father.

Liz smells like lavender and peach shampoo and a hint of sweat. The sun hurts his head even through the extra-strength sunglasses. He eyes the crowd by the school gates and he can't even stomach the thought of making his way through that.

“You've changed,” Liz whispers. Alex focuses back on her as well as he can. He knows what she sees, beside the growth spurt. The baggy clothes, the complete lack of personality in his near-military getup. The baseball hat and sunglasses, the noise-canceling headphones he hasn't removed−he dreads the moment a teacher makes him put them away.

The way he holds himself now, shoulders slumped and each movement careful, trying to make himself smaller. He tries not to wince under Liz's stare. “You weren't really in a different school, were you?” she asks.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Alex sighs. He knows the rumors his father started, had Flint spread around school. The official version is that he went to a military boarding school for a year to straighten up his behavior. The speculation going around town is that he was sent to a mental hospital after a breakdown and that he's probably a dangerous madman. He's sure Liz has heard both, and has had time to wonder, during a whole year of no contact.

Alex doesn't want to think how close to the truth the second version is, and yet how far. He doesn't want to think about the last year at all.

“Okay,” Liz puts a hand on his arm. Alex has to force himself not to flinch away. “I won't ask. But you can talk to me whenever you're ready, okay?”

Alex just nods. He grits his teeth as a motorbike passes too close to them and the pain in his head spikes again.

“Rosa!” Liz suddenly calls, waving at someone behind him. Alex flinches hard at the noise this time, but she doesn't seem to notice. “Look who's here!”

Alex hears and smells Rosa approaching before he see her−though trying to separate each sense doesn't mean much to him now. She's changed, too. She's gotten wilder, somehow, and her hair has purple strands in it. She has bags under her eyes like she doesn't sleep much at night.

“Alex!” she exclaims, but she's much less demonstrative than her sister. She opens her arms and lets Alex come to her, and the hug makes Alex's skin crawl a lot less. She squeezes him tight, and it actually feels good for a moment, like he can let go of the outside world. “How are you doing?”

“I'm okay,” Alex lies. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” Rosa lies right back. He buries his face into her hair, briefly.

“I know what you are,” she murmurs in his ear.

“What?” Alex panics immediately, his chest caught in a vice. “What do you mean?”

“I know you're a mutant. Don't worry, I won't tell.”

Breathing is suddenly hard. Alex takes a gulp of air and it burns down his throat.

“How?” he gasps.

“Don't be scared,” Rosa says. “You know about me. I know about you. It's okay. You're safe.”

“I'm not safe,” Alex murmurs. “But I trust you.”

He's known what she is for several years, since he watched her shut down every kitchen appliance in the Crashdown one day in the middle of a panic attack. She had some trouble getting her powers under control, but he doesn't think anyone else beside her family knows. Mutants aren't welcome in Roswell, no more than in any small town in America. Large cities are more progressive, but even there, the fear and the hatred are always present.

He breathes through his nose slowly as Rosa lets him go, trying to keep himself under control. It's hard. There's too much tension, too much fear, too much everything. Hundreds of people who have walked down this sidewalk, and he can feel the ghost of their presence. He sees echoes of what Liz and Rosa wore yesterday over their current outfits, traces of the people they've hugged and kissed.

“You okay?”

Liz is suddenly too close to him, and Alex jumps. “I'm fine,” he mumbles. He looks down at his watch. They have another thirty minutes before classes actually start, since this is the first day of the year. He doesn't want to sit through the principal's speech. “Can we get out of here?”

“Sure,” Rosa says. “If you can make it through the crowd, the music room should be empty, and I still have the key from last year.”

“Weren't you supposed to give it back?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow. His tone feels off, faking normalcy, but it's the best he can do right now.

“Was I?” Rosa winks at him. “Come on.”

She and Liz each frame Alex on one side as they push through the people crowding the gates. Alex closes his eyes tightly, thankful for his sunglasses, and shuts his other senses down as much as he can. He feels people follow him with their gaze, mutter behind his back, but he forces himself to keep going.

He doesn't breathe until Rosa closes the door of the music room behind him.

“Assholes,” Rosa murmurs under her breath.

“I'm so glad you're back,” Liz tells Alex, dropping her bag and sitting down on the floor. Alex and Rosa follow suit.

“Me too,” Alex almost manages a smile, because it's the truth. This day is already heaps better than every day he's had in a year, just because his friends are here.

“I want to show you something,” Liz says. “But, you have to keep it a secret.”

“Of course,” Alex answers. He has so many secrets of his own. He's fairly sure any secret of sweet, kind Liz will be harmless.

“You sure?” Rosa asks.

“It's Alex! Of course I'm sure,” Liz says. “Look.”

She raises her hands in front of her, and pushes them into a forward movement, like she's throwing a ball. Alex jumps as a solid shield of sorts appears in front of her, made of what looks like bubbles of air. He can hear the sound distortion, feel the barrage. It's like the air has been pushed together into a solid mass.

“You're−” he starts.

“A mutant, yes.”

“No,” Alex shakes his head. “No, you can't−”

He's already been terrified for Rosa ever since he figured out exactly what his father is doing. To add Liz into the mix…

He scoots backward, away from them. “You can't,” he repeats.

“Alex, I thought you'd be okay with this−” Liz starts, looking disappointed and a little scared.

“You don't understand, it's dangerous!”

“We know that, that's why we're keeping it a secret,” Rosa intervenes. “We're careful, don't worry.”

“No, it goes way beyond that,” Alex swallows. “You don't get it. You can't show anyone, ever.”

“It's going to be fine,” Liz says. “We just need to get through high school, and then we'll move to a big city where mutants aren't hated. We'll be fine, Alex.”

Alex keeps shaking his head. “Did you tell her?” he asks Rosa.

“No,” Rosa murmurs.

“Tell me what?” Liz frowns.

Alex takes a breath. “I'm a mutant too, Liz. I don't have a cool power like you so I can't show you, but the reason I was gone last year is that my father found out. And he can't, under any circumstance, find out about you two.”

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #liz ortecho #rosa ortecho #roswell nm #power through #mine #echo's fanfiction #Anonymous #asks #mutants AU

18 notes · View notes

seeaddywrite · 5 years

Note

i’m not sure if you’re up for writing mylex, but if you are, mylex+62? or 20 for malex 💕

someday, i will try my hand at mylex because HELLO OT3, but i went with malex this time. i hope you enjoy!

Keeping Michael at arm’s length is the hardest thing Alex has ever done. It’s the right thing, because while Alex made it back from Baghdad alive, he didn’t survive unscathed, and his head is a dangerous place. How can he commit to anyone, let alone Michael, when he’s not even sure that he’ll be able to sleep through the night? It’s easy to fool everyone else; he projects the perfect image of a calm, competent soldier whenever he’s in public, and no one ever questions it. No one but Michael, who’s always known him too damn well. So the mask becomes rigid, even cruel, when faced with Michael’s attempts to talk, or fix things, and Alex is left wondering if he’s ever going to be able to just feel like himself again. He’s pretty sure he won’t.

But at Cauffield, Alex is forced to give up all pretenses of being the rational soldier and makes the decision that if Michael’s going to stay and become another of his father’s victims, Alex is, too. For the past week, since realizing that Guerin’s been trying to rebuild a spacecraft and leave the planet, Alex has tried to imagine what a life without Michael in it, even at the fringes, would be like. And every time, no matter how creative Alex got, the image hurt. There is no scenario in which Alex is content with that reality — so he stays. He tears down every wall he’s put between the two of them since coming back to Roswell, and he lets Michael see exactly how deeply he’s loved, even if it’s by someone as messed up as Alex. “You are mine,” he tells Michael desperately, reminding him that he has someone, a family, even if it’s not his mother. “I never look away, Guerin!”

There are tears in his eyes as Michael throws the honesty back in his face, but Alex knows him well enough to see the lie in his desperate, grief-stricken eyes. He calls him on it, and thankfully, the woman in the cell intervenes, her hand glowing against the glass as she imparts another devastating truth to Michael.

Between Alex and whatever message the woman in the cell — Michael’s mother, god! — passed on, Michael leaves the prison and is physically safe, but Alex isn’t stupid enough to say that he’s fine. The entire ride back to Roswell is terrifyingly silent, and there are two instances in which the SUV beneath them shakes, and Alex knows it’s not because there’s something going wrong with the engine. Michael is in pain, and Michael is losing control. But he won’t let Alex help, won’t let him even try. Instead, as soon as they return to the garage where he lives, Michael slams the car door in Alex’s face without a word and tears off like a madman behind the wheel of his own truck. Alex is left staring after him, aching and bereft with the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do for Michael, now.

So Alex decides to help in the only way left to him; he turns to technology. There are other bases like Cauffield — there have to be. Because if Alex knows anything, it’s how his father operates. He’s been studying Jesse Manes for years remotely, searching for weaknesses, a way to bring him down as he so richly deserves. During those years of recon, Alex has learned that his father never puts all of his eggs in one basket. If Cauffield was rigged to blow the moment anyone stirred in the quarantined section, he had to have other research centers. He wouldn’t be willing to give up the only source of information about his perceived ‘enemy’ so easily.

That means that there are other aliens out there, maybe more of Michael’s family, or Max or Isobel’s, being tortured by Alex’s family. That means there’s still a chance to save someone, and not just stand back to watch them burn. And even if he hadn’t wanted to put an end to everything his father cares about, Alex would have been driven to save those people just to be sure Michael never had to watch his only chance at family go up in flames in front of him. When push comes to shove, Alex knows he’d put his father in the ground before he could ever hurt Michael like that again.

Three days pass, somehow, in a blur of codebreaking and recon. The guys in Alex’s squad had always ridden him about his focus while working — apparently, there’d once been an air raid at their base and he’d missed it while trying to hack into the enemy computers and take out their bombs. Anderson, one of his best friends, had always been the one to bring him food and pry the computer out of his hands on those missions, while Cooper, their best gunman, had the joy of shoving Alex into bed when he was feeling his most stubborn. Alex had never liked leaving important jobs unfinished, and his own physical well-being was a small price to pay if it meant success. But his friends are half a world away, now, and Alex is on his own. He remembers to eat, shoving an energy bar from his bag in his mouth when he notices that he’s hungry, and sleeps when he gets tired enough to start making mistakes. There’s no room for error in hacking; one wrong keystroke, and he could tip off whoever’s on the other end — and he can’t have that. Not yet. They’re not ready.

“You working on setting a world record for longest amount of time without a shower? Because if so, you should really do us all a favor and set up shop somewhere with more ventilation.” Valenti’s voice makes Alex freeze; he’s close, only a foot or so away from Alex’s chair, which means he hadn’t even noticed when the man opened the door or climbed down the stairs. Christ. His situational awareness has been on overdrive since his teenage years; living with a man who seemed to want him dead did that to a kid. War only made it worse — so it was damned scary that Valenti could sneak up on him so easily.

Exhaling slowly to rid himself of the threat of panic, Alex flicks his gaze to Kyle’s face and raises one eyebrow in a distinctly flat expression of judgment. “Funny,” he says scathingly, and is startled by how hoarse his voice sounds. From disuse, apparently. Huh. “What do you want, Valenti? I’m working.”

“I can see that,” Kyle says dryly, glancing around at the scatter of files, hard drives, and backup systems that Alex hasn’t bothered to keep neat. His eyes linger on the screen currently running location algorithms, but only for an instant. Then, he’s back to looking at Alex, expression distinctly unimpressed. “You planning on rejoining the world anytime soon? Or, you know, sleeping?”

Sometimes, it’s still utterly bizarre that this is who Kyle Valenti grew into after high school. He’d always been smart, so the MD wasn’t exactly a surprise, but the genuine care he seems to exude for people under his purview is hard for Alex to swallow. And the fact that he’s here, trying to babysit Alex, is even more so. Alex has been taking care of himself since he was a teenager; he doesn’t need Valenti barging in and telling him how to run his life, even if his intentions are good.

Alex turns back to the largest screen in his set-up without a word, moving the algorithms to run on one of the smaller monitors so that he can multi-task. He takes half a second to point curtly at the sleeping bag in the corner of the bunker, where he’d rested in the recent past … in the somewhat recent past, at least. It had definitely been in the last twenty-four hours. He thinks. But that isn’t any of Valenti’s damn business.

“Manes.” Kyle’s voice is full of exasperation, and a moment later, he’s standing too close, his eyes narrowed and one hand half-extended, like he can’t decide whether he wants to rest a hand on Alex’s shoulder or shake him. “A sleeping bag on the floor doesn’t count as decent sleep, and you know it. Have you left this room at all since we got back from Cauffield?”

Alex lets his silence speak for himself. Obviously, Kyle already knows the answer to that question, and his brain power is better focused on the task at hand than verbal sparring with Valenti. He knows, logically, that he’s going to have to take a break sometime soon. The cyber protections around the rest of Project Shepherd are much more sophisticated than his father’s systems, and Alex is only one man. But he’s so close to a break through, and he doesn’t have any actionable intel — and if Alex has to sit on his ass doing nothing after everything he’s witnessed lately, he thinks he might lose his mind for good this time.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Valenti,” Alex snaps, when it becomes clear that Kyle isn’t leaving. “I’m a grown man, and I need to do this — you standing there, breathing down my neck, isn’t going to make me move any faster!” The anger coursing through his body doesn’t quite fit the situation; Alex recognizes that as if from a distance, but is powerless to stop himself. He’s too worn, too emotionally and physically exhausted.

“Fine,” Kyle snaps back, folding his arms over his chest stubbornly. “I’ll just go sit in the corner and wait for you to pass out from lack of sleep or lack of nutrition, then, huh? My bet is it won’t take long, and then I won’t have to deal with the attitude when I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Alex takes a long, slow deep breath, and forces himself to swallow the rejoinder that no one had asked Kyle to look out for him. It’s hard, and the words threaten to emerge anyway, but Alex manages to control himself. After a moment of tense silence, he looks back at Valenti, his eyes hard. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Kyle,” he says, and it’s only sort of a lie. “But I need to do this. There could be other facilities like Cauffield, and if we don’t get to them before my father realizes what we know —”

“You think I don’t get that?” Kyle’s back to looking exasperated, but there’s a rigidity to his spine that suggests that he does actually understand. He wants to know what his father was involved in as much as Alex wants to take it apart, and Kyle isn’t the sort of man to relish in the deaths of of innocent people. “I’m on your side, Alex, remember? We’re going to take these sons of bitches down, and rescue anyone left. But you’re not going to be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself— and I’m pretty sure Guerin would tell you the same thing, if he could see you right now.”

The mention of Michael hits Alex like a blow, and he clenches his jaw in automatic response. “Michael has bigger things to worry about right now,” he says, somehow managing to keep his voice even. “And he’d want me to find the other facilities, if they’re out there. It’s the only chance he has of finding more family, and I’m not going to take a nap instead of -”

“For god’s sake, Manes! You’re the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever met, you know?” Kyle shakes his head, and the muscle in Alex’s jaw jumps. He decides to take the high road and ignore the comment, because he’s pretty sure that Valenti is right at the top of that list with him. “You know what? Forget it. I should’ve just started with the back-up plan.”

Alex isn’t curious enough to wonder about what Kyle’s planning to turn around. He listens as footsteps recede out of the bunker and returns his full attention to the task in front of him. For a long while, all that he hears is the hum of the modems and the tap of his fingers on the keys — and the occasional yawn, because apparently, Valenti’s speech has reminded his body of exactly how little rest it had gotten in the last few days. Massaging the base of his leg where it met the join of the prosthetic absently, he reached for a Red Bull stashed in his knapsack — only for the can to float out of his hand and disappear over his shoulder.

Blinking, Alex stares at his empty hand, trying to decide if he’s more tired than he realized for a fleeting moment. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what must have happened, and spins his chair so quickly that he nearly goes for a second turn around.

There in the doorway, silhouetted by the light streaming in from outside, stands Michael Guerin, Alex’s energy drink in one hand and a narrow-eyed look on his face.

He looks like hell, Alex registers first. There are deep blue circles beneath his eyes, standing out in stark contrast against the pallor of his skin, and the usual warmth in his gaze when he looks at Alex is conspicuously absent. In its place is a terrible emptiness, one that makes something in Alex’s chest feel cold. He’s never seen Michael this closed off, this isolated, and he hates it, and the part he’s played in causing it.

“Hi,” Alex says quietly, making no move to get up. If Michael wants to be closer, he’ll close the distance himself — and Alex doesn’t want to push him, no matter how much he wishes he could wrap the other man in his arms and banish that devastating emptiness from his expression.

Michael shifts under his gaze, and glances around the room, much like Kyle had done when he came in earlier. Anger swamps him again when he realizes that Valenti must have gone and found Michael — that was his back-up plan, apparently. As if Guerin doesn’t have enough on his plate right now, as if Kyle has any right to drag him here when he clearly needed to be working through the shock, grief, and pain that obviously hadn’t been dulled by a few days.

“I’m sorry Kyle called you,” Alex tries again, when Michael says nothing. “He doesn’t know when to mind his own business.”

“He said you haven’t left this room since we got back,” Michael says finally, obviously avoiding any direct reference to where they’d been or what they’d witnessed. Alex wonders if that’s because he doesn’t want to think about it, or because he doesn’t want to talk about it with him. Either one is fair, he supposes, even if it sucks to think Michael might not want to share his burdens with Alex. “That’s almost a week, now, you know.”

No, actually, Alex didn’t. A week? He’s been guessing three days, though, admittedly, it’s hard to gauge the passage of time when there’s no natural light in the room. God, has he really gone a week without a shower? No wonder Kyle had commented on the smell.

“Wanna tell me what’s so important that you can’t take a few hours away from the computer?” Michael prods, and takes a cautious step closer, like he’s afraid he’ll be turned away — which makes no goddamn sense, since if Alex had his way, he would never have left him in the first place.

“Valenti didn’t tell you?”

Michael snorts, and it’s the first real animation Alex has seen from him since he arrived. “All Valenti said was that I needed to get my ass over here and make you go home before he has one more patient at the hospital. I didn’t ask a lot of questions after that.” He gestures back at the screens, still running algorithms and password-bypass software, even while Alex isn’t watching. “Looks like you’re trying to find something, but that’s about as far as I get. Math, I can follow. Computer code, not so much.”

As always, it’s incredible to watch Michael’s mind at work. Alex is fairly certain that he’d have the algorithms figured out on his own if he gave him a few minutes, but he doesn’t really want a computer to be the one to tell him what Alex is looking for. Then again, Alex doesn’t particularly want to tell him, either. Not when Michael’s obviously avoiding the subject.

“I — I’m looking for other facilities like Cauffield,” he admits, his voice uncharacteristically timid. Alex hates feeling or sounding small or uncertain; he built his military career on being frosty under fire and quick to take charge of any given situation, and there is no room for uncertainty in that persona. But he’s never quite managed to keep that mask around Michael, not for long — and he can’t bear the idea of adding more hurt to the man he loves by rebuilding the walls that he’d torn down so completely when he was sure they were going to die together. “My dad, he wouldn’t have sacrificed one facility if there weren’t others. It would cut off his research, and he just wouldn’t do it.”

Michael sucks in a breath, and a wave of power emanates from him, slamming Alex’s chair back against the wall before he realizes what’s happening. The unexpected impact jolts his entire body painfully, and he winces before he can modulate the expression. He’s been sitting for days, and hasn’t removed the prosthetic for as long as he’s been in the bunker, so he’s more sore than he should be.

“Fuck,” Michael breathes, and he’s at Alex’s side, looking him over as if he expects to find blood or something. “I’m sorry. I didn’t -”

“Don’t, Guerin,” Alex admonishes immediately, unwilling to allow what amounted to a bruise to make Michael look so guilty. “I don’t need you to apologize. I get it.” Fury is an old friend for him, one he’d met as a teenager desperate to escape his father, and Alex had only gotten to know the emotion better during the war. He doesn’t need Michael to explain why he’d lost control in that moment — the idea of other people being held and tortured for decades by Jesse Manes makes him homicidal, too. The only difference is that Alex doesn’t have telekinetic powers to lose control of.

Michael opens his mouth as if to say something else, but closes it again. There’s a thoughtful quality to his silence, so Alex doesn’t interrupt. Instead, he grabs the armrests of his desk chair and levers himself out of it, cursing the wheels when it wobbles and sends him back into a seated position. He’s been sitting for too long; the muscles in his bad leg are tight and stiff, and he’s going to be in a hell of a lot of pain when his body catches up with him. For now, though, Alex can stand and drag the chair back to the computer monitors.

“You’re not going back to work on that,” Michael says incredulously, and the surprise in his voice is enough to have Alex turning back around to look at him. “No, Alex. It can wait. You need to go home and sleep, and give your leg a break — don’t think I didn’t notice the look on your face when you had to stand up.” Alex feels strangely warmed by the words. He doesn’t like to be coddled, and never has, but the fact that Michael can be suffering so intensely and still be here to lecture Alex about his own well-being … it gives him hope, as inappropriate as it may be, considering their circumstances.

“It can’t wait, Michael. If my father figures out what we know, he could —”

“Do you seriously think that I don’t know what your father is capable of?” Michael interrupts, his voice low and cold in a way that’s never been directed at Alex before. “Fuck you, Manes. I was there. At least twenty people like me, including my —” He stops, swallowing hard, and the unshed tears glimmering in his eyes are nearly Alex’s undoing. “All murdered in cold blood right in front of me. I fucking know what he could do.”

Alex swallows, and looks down at the floor, thoroughly chastised. What he’d said had been stupid, and he never would have warned Michael against Jesse Mane’s motives if he’d been running on all cylinders.

“But you’re going to go home, anyway. Because people who’ve been working for days make mistakes, and we can’t afford any,” Michael continues, his voice firm. “And Jesus, Alex, if you’re doing this for me, I can’t — you’ve gotta stop, okay? I can’t be the reason that you’re isolating yourself down here and not sleeping. Whether you meant what you said or not, I —”

Alex can’t keep his mouth shut at that. It hurts too much to listen to Michael doubt him, and to know that he’s taking way too much responsibility for Alex’s own actions and decisions. It’s not a surprise, not really, but Alex is exhausted, and his emotions are running away with him. “What do you mean, whether I meant what I said or not?” he demands. “When? When I told you that you’re my family? Or when I told you that you’re not the only one who never looks away? Because damn it, Guerin, both of those things are true!”

Michael stares at him for a long moment, his gaze inscrutable as he presumably tries to decide whether Alex is lying or not. Slowly, he nods, just once, and Alex is incredibly disappointed in the non-reaction.

“That algorithm you’re running looks pretty self-sufficient. Any chance you can set an alarm or something to let you know when it’s done while you’re at home?”

It’s a good solution. Alex can, in fact, set up a notification system pretty easily, but he’s still resentful of the subject change. He wants to know what Michael’s thinking. For once, he wishes he could borrow Isobel’s powers and take a peek, just to figure out where he stands. Does Michael hate him for being a part of the government that killed his mother? Is he pushing him away because seeing Alex’s face just brings back bad memories? Is it too much, to be involved with the son of the man who’s been torturing his people for decades? There are a million reasons for Michael to not want him anymore, even before one considers the fact that Alex has walked away from him over and over again.

Maybe it’s all true. Maybe they’re done. But this time, Michael will have to be the one to end it, because Alex is done pretending he can.

“That’s what I thought.” The satisfied words bring Alex out of his spiraling thoughts, and he raises an eyebrow at Guerin as he finishes, “Do it, get your stuff, and go home, Manes. I mean it.”

Normally, Alex would have bristled at the preemptive tone. He doesn’t take orders well, not even from superior officers — it’s gotten him in hot water more than once. And letting Michael boss him around this way sets a terrible precedent, one that suggests that he can walk in while Alex is working and make him stop at any time. But Michael doesn’t look nearly as desolate while he’s ordering Alex around, and it’s hard to be annoyed at that.

Before he can fully consider the ramifications of his words, Alex says, “On one condition.”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he crosses his arms stubbornly. “Oh, yeah?” Alex has the impression that the other man will try to drag him out of here, if he thinks he has to, but Alex intends on stopping things before they can get to that level. He just can’t help but give this a try, first.

“Yeah. You come home with me. We’ll both get something to eat, get cleaned up, and sleep. Because it’s pretty obvious you haven’t done any of that recently, either, and if it’s so wrong for me, it is for you, too.” Alex is fairly proud of the argument he makes, and the way that he doesn’t reveal how nervous he is to make the demand while he speaks. The thought of Michael in Alex’s private space is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying, since it’s new level of intimacy for both of them, but Alex can’t stand the thought of going home to rest and recuperate while Michael continues to torture himself. He wants to be there for him, wants to wash his ridiculous curls and twine protectively around him in bed and know that he’s safe. And that desire outweighs any anxiety.

For a too-long moment, Alex is sure that Michael’s silence means he’s going to be denied. He wasn’t allowed to be there for Michael before — why would he think that would change now? Just because Michael showed up here, worried about him?

“How else am I gonna make sure you’re not just working from the cabin?” Michael asks finally, a wary sort of acceptance in the question.

Alex’s breath rushes from him all at once, and he worries his knees will buckle from the onslaught of relief. He smiles, big and earnest, at Michael, and tries to wordlessly convey how pleased he is by this turn of events without coming off as insane. With the speed and ease born of a decade of practice, Alex sets up the notification system on the computers and shuts everything down. The only thing he wants to take with him is his laptop, so he shoves that in a bag - only for it to float out of his hands, much like the Red Bull can had earlier.

He glares over at Michael, who’s got the strap of his laptop case clenched in his good hand. “You just said you’re coming home with me. How will I be able to use it for work if you’re right there?”

For the first time since he arrives, a flicker of the usual warmth shows in his eyes when he looks at Alex. “This way there’s not even a temptation,” Michael says easily. “Better safe than sorry. It’ll be fine here — just leave it with everything else, and we can come get it tomorrow.”

Again, Alex finds himself wondering why he’s not pissed at the orders. He’s not a child, after all, and Michael is hardly the right person to be lecturing him on taking care of himself! But instead of irritation, all Alex feels is pleasure that Michael seems more like himself, and that he’s letting Alex in, at least a little.

So instead of fighting like he probably should, Alex sighs and acquiesces. The laptop case is left on the desk with the other information he’d been trying to sort through, and Alex takes a few moments to shut the rest of the equipment down. He avoids the chair as he works, a little afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get back up again if he sat down. Guerin doesn’t take his eyes off of him the entire time— he just leans against the wall, arms crossed casually over his chest. The stance would look comfortable, if he didn’t know Michael as well as he did, but Alex could see the tension in his muscles, the thin veneer of calm painted over the emotional turmoil of the past week. Or …however long Alex has been down here.

Michael waits for him to lead the way outside, like he suspects that Alex will turn around and try to get back to work if he looks away for a moment. He’s patient with Alex’s slow, halting steps as his body adjusts to the new position after so long seated and his muscles cramp painfully. Eventually, they make it topside, and Alex blinks in the fading sunlight of early evening. Wordlessly, Michael opens the door to his truck and stares at Alex expectantly.

A quiet Michael isn’t one that Alex has much experience in dealing with, so he just follows his lead, keeping his mouth shut and clambering none-too-gracefully into the vehicle. He pulls up the GPS on his phone to give Michael directions to the cabin; he’s never been there, so as far as Alex knows, he needs directions.

The drive passes in silence, and by the time they pull up to Alex’s cabin, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The thought of inviting Michael inside wakes him up, though, and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. The reality of his life is inside that cabin in black and white, impossible to ignore. The spartan decor, the grab bars in his shower and near his bed, the wide aisles purposely created so that he can navigate the space on days when the prosthetic is not an option and he has to use his crutches. There’s the other things, too, like the anxiety medication on his bedside table with the muscle relaxant he’s probably going to need tonight, and the freezer full of frozen dinners that he’s been subsisting on for the last few months, since he’s a godawful cook. Michael doesn’t know most of that about him; Alex has taken great pains to keep it that way. If he opens the door and invites him in, there won’t be any going back —

But going back hasn’t been an option since Alex was seventeen, when he fell in love with Guerin the first time. That kiss at the museum had ascertained that Alex would never be able to let go of his feelings for Michael for any reason, no matter how noble it was — and the truth of the matter is that Alex wants to let Michael into the less romantic parts of his life. Because he knows that opening himself up and offering Michael the most vulnerable parts of himself is the only way to keep him, to prove that Michael trust him in return, after far too many mistakes and heartbreaks. Laying himself bare is the only way they’re ever going to move past this awkward phase somewhere between cosmic love and tentative friendship, and though Alex has never been so frightened in his life, he takes the first step by unlocking the door.

Michael waits for him to go inside first, but follows closely on his heels. Alex gives him a minute to look around the sparsely furnished space and moves to the coffee table to drop his cellphone on the surface. Now that he’s home, he feels disgusting — he definitely needs to take a shower before he goes anywhere near the bed that’s practically calling to him. But Michael is in his living room, running his good hand over the surface of everything he can touch, and how is Alex supposed to act normally?

“Well, I can definitely tell you’re a bachelor,” Michael says, breaking the silence with quirked lips.

Alex huffs a laugh and shrugs self-deprecatingly. “Hey, we don’t all have sisters that come in and decorate for us,” he teases, thinking of the crowded space of Michael’s airstream. “And I finally sprung for the coffee table, so I’m moving up in the world.” The small talk rankles; he and Michael have never done a lot of talking in their relationship, but it had never been small talk, either. They’d always shared important things with each other – like Michael’s entropy, or whatever he wants to call it, or Alex’s dreams to escape from his father. This feels like a conversation he’d have with a stranger, and Alex loathes it.

Michael seems to notice, because he comes closer — still tentative, but more sure of himself than he’d been in the bunker. “I need you to tell me that you meant it again,” he says, in a voice that Alex can barely hear over the suddenly frantic beating of his own heart. Alex knows exactly what ‘it’ Michael is referring to, even without any context, because when Michael’s guard is down, his heart is on his sleeve, and Alex can see the fear and the cautious hope mingling with grief and fury in his eyes. Michael’s always felt too much all at once, Alex knows — it’s part of the noise in his head that bothers him so much.

Maybe Alex can help with that again, like he used to. Some day.

“You are my family, Michael,” Alex tells him, reaching out to tangle their fingers together so he can’t draw away. “You’re the only person in the world who has ever made me feel safe, and I don’t think you understand how much that means to me.” For a boy who had been abandoned by his mother and hurt and hated by his father and brothers, then pushed out into a war he wanted no part of, safety isn’t something to take for granted. And to be given that feeling by another person is — well, Alex doesn’t have the words to explain how it feels.

The cautious hope he could see in Michael’s eyes was growing, now, becoming more and more certain as Alex spoke, so he kept going, determined to get it all out into the open so he could spend the rest of the night looking after Michael the way he’s wanted to all along. “No matter how hard I’ve tried to deny it, I’ve never been able to look away from you.” He leans forward to brush a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth — anything more would lead them places they shouldn’t go tonight. Alex doesn’t want to be used as a sexual distraction from Michael’s pain, and doesn’t want either of them to regret anything in the morning.

“I believe you,” Michael says in a hoarse voice, clutching at the lapels of Alex’s filthy flannel and resting their foreheads together. The position is so reminiscent of the one in Cauffield prison as the bomb was about to go off that Alex’s first instinct is to jerk away, but he stifles the impulse at the last second, moving his arms to wrap around Michael’s waist, instead, so that they’re chest-to-chest in the middle of the living room. At some point, Michael moves his face to the space between Alex’s shoulder and neck, and there’s a dampness against his skin that suggests he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s crying. Alex says nothing; he allows Michael his pride and simply strokes a hand up and down his spine, hoping that his proximity is as comforting to the other man as vice versa is to Alex.

“We both really need a shower,” Michael says finally, pulling away reluctantly. His eyes are lined with red, and there’s some residual dampness on cheek — otherwise, Alex wouldn’t have known he’d been crying mere moments ago. “And food. I forgot on the way back. Does anyone even deliver all the way out here?”

Alex chuckles, and nods. “I’ll take care of food if you want to shower first,” he offers generously. “There’s a decent pizza place on the edge of town that delivers up here.” He doesn’t mention that the only reason they deliver to Alex is because of the owner’s friendship with his father - it’s not relevant, and since it’s the only way they’ll have anything to eat other than frozen meals, Alex doesn’t want to go there.

Michael shakes his head. “Why don’t you just shower with me?” he asks, stretching his arms above his head until Alex hears his back crack. He seems so sure it’s a good idea, but part of Alex balks. He and Michael have never been naked around one another without sex, and that’s not on the table tonight — plus, showering isn’t exactly as easy for him as it sounds.

“Showering is kind of an ordeal for me,” Alex tells him frankly, biting at his lower lip. “I’m not supposed to shower with the prosthetic on.” There’s a chair in the shower for that purpose, along with grab bars on either side of it to he can get in and out without fooling around with crutches. He’s sure Michael can put those pieces together on his own — and Alex isn’t sure he’ll ever be comfortable spelling it all out for him. Not because he doesn’t trust Michael with the information, but because it’s a weakness, and Alex can’t help but be embarrassed.

“I won’t let you fall,” Michael promises, smiling faintly. “I’m an engineer. I’m pretty sure we can figure out the mechanics.”

Alex considers, trying to put aside the nerves from that obstacle and focus on the next. “I want to,” he says, and reaches out to grab Michael’s hand again, just in case he only hears the ‘but.’ “But I don’t think either of us are up for sex tonight. And we’re not exactly known for being able to keep our hands to ourselves.”

A complicated expression flickers on Michael’s face, but is gone before Alex can properly parse it. “I didn’t know sex with me was such so bad for you, Alex,” he says, bitterness obvious in the words. “Here I was, thinking you liked it.”

“Stop it,” Alex admonishes, rubbing tiny circles in the backs of Michael’s hands with his thumbs instead of letting go when Michael tries to pull away. “You know I do. But I don’t want to be a distraction, Guerin. And I don’t want to use you as one, either. I just want to — I want to be there for you. Especially since I know I haven’t always been, before.”

Now, Michael yanks his hands back, putting more space between them. Alex’s heart drops when he sees how close the other man is to the door — he’s ready to run again, to hide and lick his wounds in private. Alex has said too much, and he can’t take the words back.

“Don’t try to fix me, Alex,” Michael says harshly. “I’m not broken.” But his body language suggests that he doesn’t even believe his own words — and Alex is an expert at reading him, after all this time. Desperate to keep him there, to make him understand, Alex ignores the way his thigh muscles twinge and moves quickly toward Michael.

“We’re both a little broken,” he says, eyes pleading. Alex has no idea what he’ll do if Michael takes that last step out the door — probably follow him, like some sort of stalker. He doesn’t think he’s capable of watching him leave while he’s obviously hurting in ways Alex can’t begin to understand, and wonders, briefly, if this is how it felt when Alex shut him out of his own recovery after his amputation. If so, he’ll never be able to apologize enough for that pain. “But I’m not trying to fix you, Michael. I’m just trying to help. If you’ll let me.”

No one moves or speaks for the longest minute of Alex’s life, and then Michael is back in his space, one palm against the back of his head while the other seizes his lapel and pulls him in. The kiss is fierce, full of desperation and reassurance, and by the time Michael pulls away, Alex is already reconsidering his stance on sex for the night — not seriously, but his body is definitely on board.

“So, if I promise not to jump you —”

Alex smiles, and leads Michael to the bathroom.

It’s a big room, one Alex had installed after he moved in. The closet-sized bathroom that Valenti had used hadn’t cut it for someone who used crutches both early in the morning and late at night, and nor had the weird shag carpet. So Alex had hired people to knock a wall out and enlarge the space, install tile, and a giant shower with a head at either end. It was a luxury he couldn’t really afford, but Alex justified it with the fact that nothing else in his home was remotely luxurious— and he needed the handicapped access.

Once they’re in the bathroom with the door closed behind them, Alex begins undressing Michael, starting with the stubborn buttons on his shirt. The other man raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, and simply stands still, letting Alex do what he wants. Slowly, his chest and torso is revealed, and Alex tosses the dirty shirt to the floor. Michael returns the favor, but when he’s done, Alex’s shirt is tossed telekinetically in the trash. “Trust me,” Michael murmurs at Alex’s note of complaint. “There was no saving that thing.”

Since he’s probably right, Alex just shrugs, and steps out of his pants. When he’s in just his boxers, he sits down on the closed lid of the toilet to begin unfastening the harness holding his prosthetic in place — but Michael stops him with a gentle hand on his good knee. “Let me,” he offers, already kneeling in front of Alex with no sign of hesitation on his face.

Alex swallows, but nods once. He’s usually independent to a fault, and has never let anyone else deal with his prosthetic before, not even his doctors, if he could help it. But if this is what Michael wants, Alex can let him — this one time, at least.

Deft mechanic’s hands unfasten the mechanisms that hold the leg in place, and Michael pulls it away and props it against the wall before removing the compression sock around Alex’s residual limb with equal care. Not once does he spend too much time staring, or look even remotely pitying, and for that alone, Alex could kiss him — so he does, gently, at the crown of his head.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, afraid that using a full voice would shatter the quiet tranquility of the moment. Michael’s answering smile is small, but honest, as he stands to get rid of the rest of his own clothes.

It’s awkward, at first. Alex hasn’t showered with anyone but his squad mates, and that was never even remotely intimate — just a bunch of men, trying to get the desert sand out of uncomfortable places before they ran out of hot water. And on top of that, he’s still getting used to showering while seated — adding another person makes it even more confusing. But Michael doesn’t seem bothered, and shoves his head under one of the spigots to wet his hair.

Eventually, the awkwardness eases. It helps when they stop trying to look everywhere but at each other, so Alex allows his gaze to amble along the strong lines of Michael’s body, appreciating his physique in a way he’s never really had the chance to before. Eventually, Alex reaches out with a soapy rag to scrub at his lower back because he can’t quite help himself — they’re so close, but they haven’t touched since Alex hauled his body into the shower, and he misses the contact. Michael sighs, pressing back into the touch, which Alex takes as permission to continue. He ends up washing every part of Michael that he can reach, from his shoulders down to his knees, and lingers over his work. Touching Michael like this, with care and no intention of turning it into something sexual, is a new experience — and one he wants to repeat as often as he’s allowed.

“Any chance you wanna do my hair?” Michael asks, when Alex has cleaned both of them more thoroughly than necessary. He’s been itching to get his fingers tangled in those curls, but he has no idea how to maneuver to make it happen. His concern must show on his face, because Michael touches his cheek and drops to sit in front of him, legs folded. Alex stares down at the top of his head and the line of his back, amazed that for Michael, it’s just that easy.

“Can you hand me the shampoo?” The bottle flies into his hand before Alex can finish asking, and he can’t help the startled noise he makes. Michael glances up, more challenge than apology, so Alex nudges him back around with his good knee so that he can get started.

Michael has always melted immediately as soon as Alex got his fingers into his hair — he’s not sure who enjoys it more, in all honesty. But this is the first time Alex has had an excuse to do it for any real length of time, and he takes full advantage. He massages Michael’s scalp as he works the shampoo into a lather, moving the whole way down to the base of his neck and back up with sudsy hands and gentle pressure. In moments, Michael is boneless against Alex’s leg, his head lolling backward, and Alex feels a strong sense of satisfaction. He’d done that. He’d relaxed Michael this way, made him feel secure and comfortable in his home and allowed him to lay down his burdens, at least for a little while. And that, Alex knows, is more intimate than any quickie in the truck bed could have ever been.

Eventually, they have to get out of the shower. Alex lets Michael help him, rather than heaving himself out by the grab bars, and they dry off in comfortable silence. He sends Michael to get them both sweats to sleep in, and pauses when he realizes he should have asked for his crutches, too. His pride isn’t going to let Michael half-carry him to the bedroom, and that’s not a habit he wants either of them to get into. He’s about to lift his voice to ask when Michael reenters the room, dressed, and carrying an added pair of sweats and Alex’s crutches under one arm.

“Thought you might need these,” he says, propping them up by the door, and Alex finds himself robbed of speech. Does Michael realize how unbelievably thoughtful that is? Alex is pretty sure that there’s not another person in the world who would have realized that Alex hates having to ask for help, or that he’d never let anyone carry him to bed like an oversized toddler. With that one simple gesture, Michael had given him his independence, his pride — and he didn’t even seem to realize how important that was.

“Alex? You good?”

Alex nods, his smile a little more emotional than he’d like. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m really good.” Michael returns the smile, and leans down to kiss Alex’s cheek before disappearing into the bedroom — somehow knowing that he’d want a minute to himself to get dressed. It’s an awkward, difficult thing to put pants on while sitting down, and Alex would just as soon not have a witness — and somehow, again, Michael just gets it. They fit together so easily in the bedroom for all those years; Alex doesn’t think either of them realized how easy it would be to fit their lives together, too. Even the messy parts.

He meets Michael in the bedroom, and even though he knows that the next thing on their to-do list was food, the warm water and activity has made him lethargic and reminded him of exactly how long it had been since he’d slept in a real bed.

“We can make breakfast in the morning,” Michael yawns, when Alex voices his thoughts aloud. The other man seems as tired as Alex, and when the sun rises, he knows they’re going to have to talk about why. They’ve done an excellent job of avoiding reality since they got back to Alex’s cabin, but he’s not naive enough to think they can escape it for long — not with a serial killer tied up in Michael’s cellar, and Jesse Manes still out there, unsupervised, with access to innocent aliens.

But there’s nothing they can do about either of those things tonight, and honestly, Alex thinks they need this even more than they need a plan to keep everyone safe. Michael had been minutes from falling apart — and Alex supposes he wasn’t much better, as irritating as it is to admit it. So when he curls around Michael beneath the covers and cuddles in close, Alex doesn’t feel guilty for taking a break. They’ll wake tomorrow refreshed and ready for war - tonight is about rest, and reconnection.

Later, when Michael is sleeping peacefully on Alex’s chest, Alex takes a minute away from carding his fingers through unruly curls to text Kyle Valenti: I’m still going to punch you for not minding your own damn business, but … thanks.

#my fic #malex fic #michael guerin/alex manes #this is so damn long & i have no reason for the gratutious shower scene at the end #except soberqueerinthewild didn't tell me not to #also #i just wrote kyle valenti for the first time ever??#who even am i??

240 notes · View notes

bifinmediasres · 5 years

Note

Few years before the Clone Wars. Kallus, a Royal Academy student, was finally dragged by his classmates to one of the nightclubs on Coruscant. "Unfortunatelly", a group of strange young purple aliens decided to have a party of their life right next to them.

This took me so long to get to, I'm sorry Nonnie! I hope you enjoy it.

Alexsandr grumbled to himself as he was pushed along the sidewalk, surrounded by a group of his Academy classmates who had dragged him out for a night of socializing. And dragged hadn't been an exaggeration. He'd been in his room reading up on a tactical manual when two of his peers had barged in and literally carried him out into the hall. Alex would have been angry, but he was honestly just impressed. He was easily six feet tall and though not terribly muscular he was fairly sturdy.

From the hall he'd been herded outside along with several more from his class. Between being literally manhandled and trying to be heard over their celebratory shouting, they were several streets away before he managed to ask the cadet nearest him what exactly they were celebrating.

"You!" The young man answered excitedly.

"Me?" Alexsandr asked pointing to himself, "And why am I worthy of celebration?"

The cadet stopped and starred at him for a moment before responding, "Seriously? You just scored higher than any of us on exams! Alexsei you're going places! Head of your own platoon! High ranking placement among the Empire's finest! ISB's top agent, Alexsandr Kallus!"

Alexsandr just laughed quietly and started walking slowly, as if to put distance between himself and the praise being heaped upon him. "You're getting ahead of yourself I'm afraid," Alexsandr replied, "While working with the ISB would be an amazing opportunity, I doubt I'll get the experience. And as for a platoon, I'll take whatever placement gets me away from here the fastest."

"That's our Alexsei," another of his peers chimed in, "Never can tell if it's modesty or a complete lack of faith in himself though."

"I'll never tell," Alexsandr smirked, "Alright since I apparently have no choice in the matter, can I at least ask that we be back before curfew?"

This was met with raucous laughter as his friends proceeded to drag Alexsandr bodily into one of, if not the most, questionable establishment Alexsandr had ever patroned. Worse there seemed to be some sort of private party taking up an entire side of the little pub. As far as Alex could tell they were off worlders, a rough looking lot covered head to toe in striped purple fur. There were nearly two dozen of them and something else Alexsandr noticed, each of them were huge. All of them had six inches on him easily. They were all laughing, at least Alexsandr assumed that's what that sound was, and shouting over each other in a language he wasn't familiar with.

As his group found a couple empty tables and settled in to order drinks, Alexsandr couldn't drag his attention away from the party. He silently took the drink he was given and began nursing it slowly. The cadet sitting next to him for some reason took offense at this, "That's not how you drink Alexsei! First off a toast, to the future of our man Kallus, ISB's future finest. Now," the young man fixed Alex with a grin, "Knock it back, go on! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Alexsandr sighed, "Very well," and did as he was asked, followed by an obnoxiously loud belch, "And now another I suppose?"

His friend nodded enthusiastically and passed him another full glass. Alexsandr briefly thought he ought to pace himself, not being entirely convinced of his alcohol tolerance. But his friends had other ideas and a second drink was followed by a third and a fourth. The fourth was followed by a round of shots. That round of shots was followed by another.

The third round of shots found Alexsandr at the bar to collect drinks for his group. As he stood waiting a member of the group of off worlders walked up and stood next to him. Catching the bar tender's attention he nodded to his group, Alexsandr assumed indicating the need for more drinks. The bar tender nodded in acknowledgement setting the tray of drinks Alexsandr was waiting on in front of him. Alexsandr took the tray and began to turn away, stumbling as he did so.

The purple furred stranger's reflexes were quick however. He wrapped an arm around Alexsandr's shoulders and bent to steady the tray before it fell. Before letting go he made eye contact with Alexsandr and in a rumbling gruff voice asked, "You steady imp?"

Alexsandr just stared silently, his train of thought slowed by the alcohol in his system. Finally he spoke, "Basic?"

Again that rough sound Alexsandr assumed was laughter, "What imps only speak one language? Some academy you got."

The fact that this was supposed to be an insult slowly sank in for Alexsandr and he scoffed, "And how many languages do your people routinely speak? Or is garbled basic your only party trick?"

That laughter again, he laughs a lot Alexsandr noticed. He also tried not to notice how much he enjoyed hearing it. "M' gran speaks 6 but she's a bit of an over achiever. I've got Basic, two dialects of Wookiee and working on the third, and Lasana o' course."

"That's your mother tongue I assume," Alexsandr commented, "Sounds like you're quite the over achiever yourself." Was he actually conversing with this off worlder, he thought. Why? He couldn't answer that. He also couldn't help realizing something about speaking with this person was quickly overpowering his alcohol fueled haze.

The off worlder was laughing again, "Well it's proper for a Captain of the high honor guard to be well spoken."

"And you're what passes for well spoken among your people?" Alexsandr asked.

"Dunno, are you?" Grinning, the off worlder exposed a mouthful of jagged sharp teeth. But Alexsandr was struck by his deep green eyes. He'd never seen eyes like this before and he was slightly transfixed. Alexsandr was shaken from his thoughts about green eyes by the stranger commenting, "You better get back to your party. And I should go make sure my squad don't pummel the stuffin' outta each other. Nice chattin' with ya...?"

"Kallus," Alexsandr supplied.

The off worlder nodded, "Name's Zeb. Good t' meet ya. You be careful getting back tonight. See ya Kal."

"See ya," Alexsandr murmmered as Zeb turned and walked back to his group. Alexsandr quickly did the same. And though there was much more celebrating done, he found his mind occupied by the conversation with Zeb and the warmth that lingered from where his shoulder had been gripped.

20+ YEARS LATER

The galley of the Ghost was filled with laughter as the crew joined together for a night of much needed relaxation. They'd started by eating dinner together, something that hadn't happened in several weeks, and now they were sitting around the table telling stories from before they'd joined the rebellion, including many embarrassing childhood stories. Hera had just finished telling them about her father meeting Kanan for the first time and how disastrous that had gone. As the laughter died down Zeb spoke, "Have I ever told you all about going out with my squad after I made Captain?"

"Oh you mean when you piled in the rented speeder and mooned Coruscant's upper crust?" Ezra asked grimacing, "Yeah we've heard that one."

Zeb barked a laugh, "No that happened after we'd all gotten well and truly drunk. I mean the actual drinking. Tonight reminded me of that, being around people I care about, just enjoying being together." Zeb paused, his mind clearly working on something.

Worried that he was dredging up bad memories Alexsandr took Zeb's hand in both of his and squeezed it gently, "I'm so glad you have those memories my love. I have the same with my first platoon."

Zeb smiled and kissed Alexsandr softly. Suddenly he shook his head, "Right no what I was going to say. At the bar right, on Coruscant the night we were there, this group of cadets from the Academy came in and got mind bogglingly drunk." Zeb paused giggling, "Sasha you should have seen these kids. I swear I didn't know humans could drink like that and not die." He suddenly looked serious, "Karabast I hope that didn't kill any of them. Especially the guy I talked to, nice fella from what I can remember."

Alexsandr sat back heavily in his seat and asked quietly, "What else do you remember about that night? About meeting that cadet I mean."

Ezra nudged Sabine laughing, "Ooh looks like Alex is jealous!"

Zeb turned to Alex quickly, "Sasha it wasn't like that I promise. The guy was Kriffing drunk I'd never...I mean Karabast. It was small talk! My Basic was barely good enough for that!"

"Your Basic was perfectly fine I assure you," Alexsandr said stiffly.

"How would you know?" Zeb asked.

Alexsandr sighed not meeting his eyes, "Because unless another honor guard was celebrating on Coruscant that night, I'm almost certain the cadet you met was me."

Zeb turned slowly and looked Alexsandr over as if he were seeing him for the first time. Suddenly he burst out laughing. After several minutes when he could finally breathe he sputtered, "I can't believe I married Bahkahta boy!"

"I beg your pardon!" Alexsandr cried.

Zeb had started laughing again and the rest of the crew were slowly joining in. All except Alexsandr that is.

"Garazeb do you mean to tell me you gave me a nickname after one encounter?" Alexsandr asked his tone deadly calm.

"And how could I not?" Zeb asked. Turning to the rest of the crew he continued, "He put back four tankards and then did shots! Absolute madman our Sasha!" Zeb grinned wrapping an arm around Alexsandr and pulling him close.

Alexsandr wouldn't look up from the table however. Staring straight down he muttered, "This is positively mortifying. You met me on one of the handful of occasions I've ever gotten drunk. Shab I think that was the first and only time I'd ever gotten quite that drunk." Groaning he leaned his forehead on the table.

Zeb attempted to pull Alexsandr upright but he was intentionally going deadweight, "Sasha knock it off will ya?" Zeb chided, "Look if it helps I remember most of the conversation and," he cut off suddenly as Alex sat up and spun toward him.

"Karabast you mean you actually do remember?" He asked, "Because I barely recall anything. But as you said, I'd had quite a lot to drink."

Zeb nodded, "Would it make you feel better if I actually told the story?"

Alexsandr grimaced looking at the anticipation on his crewmates' faces.

"As your Captain I think I'm going to have to request that we hear this story," Hera giggled.

Alexsandr groaned, "Provided, as you say, it's not horrifically embarrassing on my part. Please continue."

Zeb cleared his throat, "Right well as I remember it we were standing at the bar waiting on drinks. I'd been watching you and was honestly surprised you could still stand." Zeb flashed a grin at Alex before continuing. "You tripped and I caught you. Figured you'd thank me but, you were caught up in the fact that I spoke Basic."

Alexsandr cringed but let him continue, "We talked for a few minutes about how many languages I spoke, at the time five I think. I teased you about only knowing Basic and said something about the Academy being a joke. Witty banter, ya know my usual." Ezra snorted at that but Zeb ignored him, "I told you to be safe, thanked you for the conversation and that was it."

Alexsandr sat lost in thought for a while but finally spoke, "You left something out. Something I do remember." Zeb cocked his head in confusion and Alex continued, "How every time you laughed, I nearly quit breathing. It was the most wonderful sound I'd ever heard."

Zeb grinned and pulled Alexsandr's hand toward him kissing his knuckles, "Thought maybe my ego made up that part."

Alexsandr shook his head, "No. I think I spent more time listening to you laughing and your friends shouting back and forth than I did talking to the people I was with. It was mesmerizing as a young cadet who, as you pointed out, only spoke Basic."

"I hate that it took so long and happened the way it did but," Zeb grinned, "I'm glad I got my man in the end."

Karabast this was fun to write! Thank you Nonnie! And yes for anyone who caught it, the last line is a Steve Blum reference. Oh and the speeder part was inspired by fan art I've seen somewhere, @mamidlo maybe? I'm sorry if that's wrong, I can't remember at the moment. Again thank you so much for the prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

#asked and answered #asks are open #anon is on #kalluzeb #kalluzeb headcanons #kalluzeb drabbles #kalluzeb prompts #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus

39 notes · View notes

protect-daniel-james · 4 years

Text

Debunking the myths about Roy Keane - Part I.

1. He’s ended Haaland’s career

This is probably the myth that ruins Roy’s reputation the most. How could you love a player that went on and broke other player’s leg and ended his career? The popular myth is: Roy injured himself while trying to tackle Haaland, was angry for 3 years, and then broke Haaland’s leg in revenge. As Roy would say - utter nonsense. It wasn’t the fact that Roy injured himself while trying to tackle Haaland - it was the fact that Haaland stood over Roy (who was actually injured) and shouted at him: “Stop faking it! Get up!” Roy ended up having a ruined season and suffered quite an emotional recovery (he drank a lot, made a lot of mistakes and regretted a lot of decisions; he also spent a lot of time thinking about the game and wanting to come back stronger - that was when he turned into the crazy skinhead machine).

People magically forget this moment because hey, Roy Keane is a prick, right?

He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly when to attack Haaland (and avoid a lifetime ban). He did it - not for the injury itself, but for the moment of power, of being able to stand over Alfie this time, and tell him “Don’t ever stand over me sneering about fake injuries again!” (or more likely “Take that you prick.”)

Haaland finished the game, and he got injured in a game for Norway a few days later. That was ultimately the injury that “ended his career”, not the one from Roy (although, of course, it didn’t help much).

2. He injured Haaland as a revenge for his own injury

No. The injury wasn’t the biggest issue. It was the fact that Haaland accused him of faking it. Keano is the last person whom you would accuse of something like that. Haaland dared to do that - and Roy didn’t forget. He doesn’t forget such stuff. Haaland’s words were the ultimate reason why Roy went after him.

Even Mick McCarthy learned it the hard way. He accused Roy of faking an injury so he wouldn’t have to play for Ireland (and rather play for Manchester United), and Roy went berserk after that accusation. He probably takes such accusations very personally.

3. His teammates were afraid of him

The stories that some people tell of Roy Keane paint the picture of a loud, angry, rude and aggressive madman who screams and shouts all the time. Actually, many of his former teammates expressed their admiration for Roy as a leader, and Gary Neville said that the image of screaming and shouting Keano in the dressing room is very far away from the truth because Roy was actually quiet in the dressing room, he didn’t like team talks much and rarely ever gave ones, he was a one for leading by example.

Many of his former teammates heaped praise on him and said he was one of the best players they have ever played with, and that Keano is the player who can make the whole team better - or just drag them along. Many of them also occasionally joke about him and his personality, and he doesn’t seem to be affected by that, on the contrary - he never misses an opportunity to laugh at himself. “I am intrigued by what people think I do in the dressing room - you know, usually, I kill three people a week.“

4. He is aggressive, rude, and enjoys shouting at everyone

He was aggressive when it was needed. He wanted to motivate people around himself. And when he went overboard, he could say sorry. He’s also a very different person on and off the pitch. Roy having a cup of tea with Denis Irwin talking about their hometown Cork would be very different from the Roy shouting at Patrick Vieira in the tunnel.

Also, his teammates said multiple times that he wasn’t really shouting or losing his temper a lot of the time - he would just look at you and you knew. It was something that also Sir Alex did to his players - not shout at them, just give them the disappointed look that would hurt more than a hairdryer.

5. He hates people

He definitely hates certain people. Most of the time though, he just hates the small talk and stupid questions that he’s being asked. He also hates it when people have no manners (ehm, the journalist with his ringing phone during a press conference).

He definitely used to be a people pleaser in his early days. He couldn’t say no when even random people from Cork wanted tickets to matches from him. He didn’t want to be seen as “the guy who made money and thinks he’s better than everyone else”. He didn’t want to bother anyone so he would rather suffer in silence, not admit he’s injured or sick, or not show his own real emotions - e. g. in the semi-final against Juventus, he just wanted to play well because he felt like he’d disappointed his team by getting the second yellow card. Once, he just played a game although he hardly could get out of the bed in the morning, and other time, he threw up in the dressing room before a match - and just kept his mouth shut and played. Although he tried to cover it, he very much cared about what other people think, and he was worried about their opinion, he didn’t want to seem weak or incapable of something... Nowadays I think he learned to embrace his own caricature when working on the TV.

6. He takes himself too seriously and can’t have fun

Does he tho?

He’s actually a trolling master.

He even looks back at his managerial career with a level of irony and doubt. He has an amazing sense of humor and he’s not afraid to make fun of himself. He’s even played a guest-star character in “The Young Offenders” lol.

#roy keane #this man I swear #reasons to love roy keane #roy keane being relatable

4 notes · View notes

secretbranch · 5 years

Text

LRR OF THE SPARK

Okay, so in a recent live TCC, LRR was asked what planeswalkers they associate with “everyone in LoadingReadyRun”, and they gave some great answers, so I wanted to compile them as well as add my own opinions, so without further ado....

(also note that race/gender don’t factor here) Graham (Garruk)

Graham has cosplayed as Garruk for videos before, and you can totally see it. They also threw around the idea of Angrath, which I will admit I like better, but I also know that, for better or for worse, due to recent developments, Graham has cemented himself into the mono green man of the wild. (Plus, I wanted to use the stained glass art versions of all the walkers, and then I realized Graham was Garruk rip #whereareyougarruk) Paul (Karn)

You could argue that Paul is some sort of blue mage because of his endless experimentation in Friday Nights, but while Karn may not approve of some of Paul’s designs, he would appreciate the effort. Also, I mean, Paul’s card in Friday Nights is colorless for a reason, right? James (Angrath)

Alright, so a bunch of names were thrown around for James (Nicol Bolas, Gideon, Ajani [because he’s so supportive {sarcasm}]), and I personally didn’t think any of them fit. I then remembered a conversation I heard on stream (can’t remember exactly when, otherwise I’d link it), but someone referred to James as “Kind of a dick, but still has a heart of gold”, and that made me think of Angrath’s story from Ixalan, and I realized he was the perfect fit. Also, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard someone in chat say that James would make a great dad, I wouldn’t be yet another broke millennial, hahah. Ha.

Kathleen (Sorin)

This is one where you may have a different opinion than the LRR friends. Whether or not you consider it low-hanging fruit, you may have thought of Liliana first. While I do admit there is some merit to Kathleen being our goth queen, wielding her horde of Brave New Faves listeners against the forces of evil, a helpful, totally extra edgelord is not far off either.

Alex (Saheeli)

Alex was the first of a couple people whom I almost gave Tibalt. Early Friday Nights had him pinned as some sort of Rakdos Madman obsessed with explosives, sort of like if a goblin was a person. But, frankly, I don’t think the Demon Prince fits Alex very well. Alex is super creative, which you know if you’ve seen his art or his comics. He’s also been referred to as a “meme nexus”, and has a lot of information stored in his brain (which paved the way for the discussion of “Alex-isms”). His ability to create and appreciation of the world around him s very reminiscent to me at least of Saheeli. Plus, Alex doesn’t give a shit about your gender norms anyway. Fuck ‘em.

Cameron (Tamiyo)

Books? Notes? Yep, that’s Cam. Also, without a doubt, some of the deepest cuts and references you will ever hear on LoadingReadyRun have been from Cameron. He is the longest running co-host of a show where they analyze video games as art. Come on, the similarities keep coming. Also, Cam would totally be down to say “fuck your gender norms”. He is beauty, he is grace, and yet he will trip and fall and somehow find a way to land directly on his funny bone.

Ian (Daretti)

As discussed in the video, Ian is absolutely the tinkering goblin madman that turns into an evil genius in the sequel. Like, the show is LITERALLY called TINKER Tailor Solder Fry. Not to mention Daretti’s other quality: D E C A D E N C E. Some goblins will settle for any trash. Daretti only settles for the highest quality of trash. I feel like this statement highly resonates with Ian. Plus, there’s probably some “waifu is trash” joke that I’m missing since I don’t watch anime, but regardless: perfect fit.

Cori (Huatli)

They almost said Vivien, but then Cam pointed out (and I totally agree) that Cori would have red or blue in her color identity. So, here is Cori! She’s super helpful and friendly and wholesome, and she also reins Ian in when he goes a little too off the rails. That being said, Cori has been known to go off the rails a little herself, and is super creative, so Huatli seems like a nice match.

Beej (Sarkhan)

So this was what the LRR folks picked at the panel, and it catches a lot of people offguard. The universal first response I think is Tibalt, E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E̢͇̝͆ͪ̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ and all that. But, after thinking about it, Sarkhan is a rambling madman who turned out to know more about the universe than almost anyone, and isn’t that in the spirit of E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E̢͇̝͆ͪ̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ?

Heather (Jaya)

This was another personal pick of mine, and I really like it. Cute but fierce is something I can totally see describing Heather. Like, Heather definitely has this very loving, innocent mindset, but anyone who has seen enough Rhythm Cafe knows that that statement isn’t entirely true. She also seems like someone who will fiercely protect her friends, and that’s something Jaya can definitely get behind.

Serge (Yanggu)

You knew it was coming. How could you not see it coming; the adorable doggo-wielding cinnamon roll who can surely kill you with his boyish smile while simultaneously actually killing you? Everyone in chat always protects Serge when bullies like Adam or James show up, even when Serge was sassing them seconds before. Also, Yanggu is a green mage, and we all know how Serge feels about lands.

Ben (Chandra)

In the words of Kathleen: “THIS ONE IS MY FINEST HOUR!!!!” Think about it. Ben has always said he’s most closely aligned with Red and Green, and here’s this planeswalker that can be both a wild child and super wholesome. Also, canonically a member of the LGBT+ community. ALSO, you KNOW Chandra is super supportive of people when she’s not immolating them. I didn’t even think of the Zippotricks McEdgelord thing until I was halfway through this. His individuality, his creativity, he is Chandra in disguise.

Adam (Koth of the Hammer)

Beefcake of the Mountains? Adam Savidan??? Absolutely. I will admit, this is what LRR said, and I would have gone for someone a little more studious since I know that’s a lot of the Adam we don’t see on camera, but as for what we DO see, hell yeah. I also find it hilarious that the guy acting as the conductor for the WE’RE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE train wasn’t even in War of the Spark. Rip in pieces, Koth. Matt G (Ral)

I’ll be honest, at time of posting, Matt is still fairly new to streams, and I haven’t seen a lot of stuff he’s done, but I’ve seen his personality through his editing (which is always amazing btw), and his creativity and very open personality is expressed greatly in Ral. Plus, I mean, when there’s low-hanging fruit, sometimes you’ve just gotta give the gay boi the gay boi.

(Bonus Friday Nights A-LRR-mni)

(Note that this is mainly their Friday Nights Personalities)

Jer P. (Teferi)

Super organized, methodical, intelligent. Who the heck is WILLING to sort their cards, let alone OTHER PEOPLE’S? Jer has had to since move on from LRR, which is sort of like Teferi retiring from planeswalking. And I mean, come on.

Matt W. (Ob Nixilis)

Hear me out. I’m not saying Matt is a demon. I am saying he is absolutely Ob BEFORE he broke the contract. Throughout his episodes in Friday Nights, he is ob-sessed (don’t you love my puns?) with winning. Furthermore, like Ian, decadence is a word that comes to mind when you consider the way he talks. A very sinister villain is Wiggins who returns every time we go back to Zendikar (or have a Desert Bus, but you get it) And that’s it!!! This was a fun homage as well as a much needed trip down memory lane. Hope everyone enjoys, while I know folks will disagree with my picks. Don’t forget to check out all of the links I hid in here. Big thanks to LRR for existing and being so wholesome and good. You guys rock.

#lrr #loadingreadyrun #mtg #friday nights #planeswalkers

1 note · View note

unladylikc · 5 years

Note

"Haaaaappy birthday!!!" In bursts Alex, with a bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and... of course, a body pillow featuring an anime version of himself. Who knows how he got his hands on that? "I'm gonna treat you today, Vivi, you deserve it. Anything your heart desires, I'm here to provide."

❥ — 4/20 ;; Vivi’s Birthday … AKA NOT A DAY TO SMOKE WEED

Goodness gracious! The moment Alex dramatically dashes past her door bearing gifts in hand, her hands would immediately fly to her cheeks with gradual excitement lighting up her features. Wow, to think he would follow through on getting her an actual body pillow. Alex sure has really OUTDONE himself today, hasn’t he?

“ Oh, Lexster, you absolute madman! ” Vivian coos, allowing outright glee to enunciate each syllable she spoke. “ I can’t believe you got me exactly what I wanted! Huehuehue~ When you’re gone, I can’t wait to do unspeakably scandalous things to your 2D self later on. ” Accompanied by giddy, whimsical laughter, she soon leaps off her bed and rushes over before clumsily retrieving the bouquet, box of chocolates, and body pillow from him.

“ Yes, yes… you’ll be joining Kizami Yuuya shortly, my precious, ” she then murmurs aloud to Alex’s drawn face while balancing the pillow on one arm. Sure enough, Vivian turns before puckering up her lips and leaning forward to land a loud, exaggerated smooch on his NOSE. “ This is my way of expressing ‘thanks’ to the very best boyfriend ever! I hope you’re ready to hear me talk my ear off today. ”

↬ @spectrumbound┆alex┆

#spectrumbound #⊰ published ⋮ ☇ ❦ ⊱#⊰ queued for the library ⋮ ☇ ❦ ⊱#[ ahjdhsakjdhaskdska I KNEW IT ]#[ I KNEW ALEX WOULD GET HER A BODY PILLOW ]#[ the only question is... who did they commission?? ]#[ also in case you couldn't tell i really enjoyed responding to this lmfao ]#[ alex you're such a goddamn trooper ]

2 notes · View notes

looselucy · 6 years

Photo

Sixty - Delusion

April 15th I hadn’t heard anything from Harry since he fled my apartment. I was expecting at least a phone-call, knowing him and knowing he would most like feel badly about what had happened and how out of hand things had gotten, that he would want to sort things out between us. But I’d heard nothing.

I knew that it shouldn’t have all been down to him, I could have made the effort and made the call myself, taken the first step in an attempt to sort out the mess we had both made, but I hadn’t. I felt bad, even though I was aware the argument was largely down to Harry and how he’d acted, I felt like maybe I could have dealt with the situation a little better myself. We were both in the wrong, in different ways, but I still wanted him to make the first move and apologise, nor did I think that was a tall order. I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who couldn’t stomach the idea of her boyfriend being civil with his ex-girlfriend, and knowing Harry as well as I did, I doubted he wanted to be on bad terms with anyone. I guess it was just down to the fact the he was the one who had snapped, for no reason, before I could even say anything. My pride was holding me back from being the one who made the first move. It was 3pm and I was still in bed, feeling sorry for myself, when Rachel finally got home. I heard the door swing open, and she was singing to herself happily. I imagined she had spent the evening with Alex and she had just gotten back. I was jealous of her for that. “RACHEL!” I shouted, refusing to move from my bed.

“HOLY FUCK!” She freaked. I burst out laughing, hearing her possibly falling to the floor out in the hall, clearly frightened by me shouting her name. She threw the door open a few moments later, back on her feet, her eyes were wide as she looked at me, like she was seeing a ghost. “Why the hell are you here?” She asked. “Charming.” I chuckled. “You’re never here!” She moved and sat at the end of my bed. “You’re always with Harry.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and she instantly knew something had happened. She quickly took her shoes off and then tucked herself into bed with me, snugging into the sheets as we both lay on our sides and looked at each other. I still couldn’t do anything other than smile pathetically at her. “What happened?” She questioned. I told her the basic outline of how the previous day’s events had played out, and repeating the story made me believe even more that things just didn’t seem to make sense. I knew he had been upset thanks to the day before; going to Nathans grave had been emotionally tiring for both of us. It didn’t help how bombarded we were the second we were back in London, surrounded by the paparazzi in seconds. I knew that was enough to put him in a bad mood. But the fact he snapped, after I heard he had been talking to Grace, it all just seemed so out of character! I knew him, and I knew him well, so well it was like he had just become another part of myself. And it just didn’t seem to add up. I did wonder how much he was struggling with our relationship being so public, after we’d gone so long living in shadows. “Something’s going on.” Rachel said after I finished the tale. “That’s not like him.” “But what’s going on?” I asked, like she would somehow know. “I don’t know. I don’t think you have anything to worry about with the ex, maybe he just got touchy because… that’s what he’s like about exes. He clearly didn’t like the thought of you talking to Will. You’re the only… healthy relationship he’s ever had, y’know? And it’s still not been smooth sailing.” “That’s true.” I sighed. “I need to remember that. He… He doesn’t know what a healthy relationship is. Of course he’d be weird about exes.” “So I think it’s… something else. Especially since he was acting off beforehand. Maybe that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.” “So what could it be?” “I have no idea.” She shrugged. “You’re just going to have to ask him.” I rolled my eyes and showed my annoyance, really not wanting to talk to him first. I wanted him to come to me. I wanted the full blown romantic scene, Harry banging on my door like a madman and apologising, telling me how sorry he was and how much he wanted my forgiveness, and he would kiss me and say he was an idiot and I would swoon and everything could get back to normal. I think one of the reasons it stung so much was because it was one of the first real arguments we had ever had as a couple. We had argued before, there was no denying, but it had always been a bitter exchange about his management and how things were, both just frustrated rather than actually angry at one another. This was a new experience for me, actually being so mad at him for something he had done, and him being mad at me, and the two of us not speaking. I was hating every second of it. “He’s not a bad guy.” Rachel breathed. “If you just make the call, I’m sure he’ll explain himself.” I turned and grunted angrily into the pillow, knowing full well I was going to cave and get in touch with him. I couldn’t help myself! I hated not speaking to him, being at home and just wondering where we stood and what the hell had happened. It had been going on for too long, too much silence had been shared between us over the past day. Everything in our relationship was as it should be by that point, no more hiding, no more bullshit, I wasn’t willing to let a stupid issue about an ex cause more of a rift between the two of us than it needed to. “Fine.” I grumbled, face still deep in the fabric. “I’ll leave you to it.” She giggled. “But even if you make up and everything’s wonderful again, can I have you to myself for the night?” I moved away and looked at her, feeling slightly guilty that we had spent so little time together of recent even though I lived with her. I had been with Harry since February 20th, practically non-stop since I had gotten his letter. Rachel understood, and I think she was genuinely happy that I was so wrapped up and enthralled by mine and Harry’s relationship, but I definitely owed her a night. “Of course.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” She clambered out of my bed. “Harry’s great, I like that you spend so much time with him. But I love you too, and I need you!” She left the room quietly after that, letting me know silently that it was time to ring Harry, time to sort out the mess that we had somehow stumbled into. I groaned and wriggled around in my bed for a moment, still reluctant to pick up the phone but it didn’t take long for me to cave, reaching across and finding him in my contact list. I stared at his name for a few moments and realised exactly what he did to me. Even seeing his name on my screen sent my stomach into a mad frenzy, that’s what he did to me. It’s just a stupid argument. He’s so much more important than that. I tapped his name and made the call, nervously holding the phone up to my ear and controlling my breathing to the best of my ability. It seemed to drag on for hours, the distant drone of the ring tone piercing my eardrums like I had heard it played on repeat my entire life. I was convinced he was ignoring me, convinced he had seen it was my name on his screen and chosen to ignore it. But then he answered. I cut him off before he even had the chance to speak. “I’m not talking to Will. You’re right, I lied, and I don’t know why I said that. And… I don’t want to make you feel bad for talking to your ex. You can talk to who you want and I don’t... I don’t know. I hate this, Harry. You were a dickhead... but you’re my dickhead. I miss you, already. I hate this.” How to be an understanding amazing girlfriend. I guide by Anna Black. A weight lifted off my shoulder as I breathed out some of the stress I had felt and just relaxed. For a moment. But then he didn’t speak. More silence continued and all too quickly I felt sick to the stomach again, my nerves returning and the feeling of unease making sure it was definitely being felt. “Harry?” I said after some time. “I... I can’t talk right now.” He muttered. “It won’t take long-” I tried. “I’m busy, Anna. I… I’ll see you tomorrow or something, okay? We’ll talk.” “Harry… what the hell is going on here?” I asked. “I’m busy, Anna. Please. I’ll ring you when I can.” I heard a noise in the background. The unmistakable sound of a girl giggling. “Are you with someone?” I gasped. “Anna-” “Who are you with?” Anger bubbled inside me. ”No one! I’m busy. Do you understand? I’m sorry, I am, but I can’t talk right now. Just drop it.” He snapped. My mind was in absolute tatters by this point, so confused and hurt, so saddened by the way he was speaking to me and what was happening between us. “I’m sorry, Anna.” He sighed. And the line cute.

I was back in Brandy Boys, hoping the alcohol would drown my sorrows and turn them to nothing, but I think if anything it just made it worse. It was nice to be back there, regardless of how sad I was, but at the same time it simply reminded me of the times before Harry, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that. Everything about what had happened that day made it feel as though me and Harry weren’t a couple and I hated it. I despised it. The sensation was sickening. Being that way and feeling that way was such a massive reminder of how much I loved him, how much happier I became from the damn moment he stepped into my life. And thanks to that day, it felt like I was losing that. I couldn’t really give him any more than I had, I couldn’t be so understanding after the way the phone-call had gone. That was all I had left. That was all I had to give. I was understanding, and I had apologised before he did even though maybe I shouldn’t have, but I had no idea what he wanted from me after that, why he was still so off with me and why, several hours later, he still hadn’t found the time to call. I stirred my whiskey and lemonade with my finger, sat alone at the bar with nothing better to do that wallow in the way I felt. Rachel had come with me, but she had left with Alex a little while earlier. I promised her I’d already rang a taxi and I would be leaving soon, but that was yet another lie I had fed her. It was the early hours of the morning, and few people remained in the bar. None of whom were alone. But I was, in every sense of the word. I ran a sorry hand through my hair and then lifted the glass to my lips, glugging down the entirety of the drink in seconds, cringing at the taste. I was a familiar face to the bar staff, and not through the videos or through the media but through myself, and through the fact I had been there numerous times, and I liked that. And thanks to this, they had noticed my misery and they were handing me free drinks because of it. It never even turned into a bad thing either, because as much as I drank, I never got overly drunk. I wasn’t sober, that’s a given, but I was so fucking miserable that the merry feeling I craved so deeply wouldn’t reach any part of my body I wished it to. I was numb. I had also had my first experience of the paparazzi attacking me in the street when I wasn’t with Harry, and I’d struggled. I had no idea how they always fucking knew, a part of me just thought the bastards lingered on every street corner in the hope of finding someone. They must have done their research since learning of my relationship with Harry, and there were a million ways they could have found out Brandy Boys was somewhere in London they could find me. They could have looked at my twitter, studied the old photos that were released the night me and Alex had kissed in there, maybe it was something along those lines. Either way, they had too much time on their fucking hands. They took a few photos of me, Alex and Rachel, whose hands were gripped together, which would probably stop rumours circulating about me and Alex again, because the two of them couldn’t have looked happier, literally in the prime of their relationship. Unlike some. The paps seemed calmer when I wasn’t with Harry, maybe there was something about the two of us being together that just drove them completely wild, either way I was grateful I didn’t have to deal with that intensity that night. Another drink was placed in front of me quite quickly, the woman behind the bar shooting me a friendly, encouraging wink. It was very clear to see that I was upset, and they were being more than nice about it, I definitely appreciated the free drinks. Not that I was actually going to let them do that, I had been going there for far too long and I had enough money in the bank to pay for my own drinks, but the kind intentions were there, and I truly appreciated that. But I had every intention of leaving money behind, but then something happened. My day took another turn for the worse. I took a sip of my drink before I heard a voice behind me. “Excuse me?” I turned around, and my heart stopped thumping in my chest. The boy was a stranger, and as I stared at him he mumbled something about being a fan and asking for a picture but I just couldn’t get past the image ahead of me. He looked exactly like Tyler. The same hair, the same features, just everything. He looked exactly like him. My spine crashed harshly against the bar as I stumbled backwards off my stool, distancing myself from him in a maniacal fashion, absolutely terrified of him. Tears stung my eyes and my breathing ceased. I could see the confusion on his face, not having a damn clue what was happening to me. But it felt like I was losing my mind, like he really was Tyler. And he was there. Right in front of me. “Please stay away.” I whispered through tears. “What?” He baffled. He tried to reach out a comforting hand to my arm, trying to put me at ease but that sent me over my edge, his skin meeting mine making me feel sick to the stomach. I yanked my arm away from him quickly and I burst into tears, pushing him away from me and just leaving him, storming as quickly as I could out of the bar, my feet carrying me in a mad rush as bile seemed to engulf my throat. In that moment, I really thought it could have been him, it could have been Tyler, and I was a mess because of it. After being so strong for so long after what had happened in that basement, in a way, my reaction and my fear, that paranoia and delusional state, felt overdue. I’d broken. I pushed my way outside, and thankfully by that hour the paparazzi had left. I was running, the night was dark and deadly as I bolted to a backstreet, just to try and escape the feeling, but I couldn’t. I collapsed on the damp pavement and wept, my body shaking in the cold night as I thought about what I had just seen and how it was affecting me. And the first thing I wanted, the first thing I needed, was Harry. I pulled my phone from my bag, sobbing with my knees curled up to my chest and my back pressed to the stone wall, and rang him once again. The noise dragged on again, which only furthered my tears. And thankfully, he answered. “Harry?” I sobbed. “Anna? Anna, what’s wrong?” He was panicked, right away. “Harry he’s here. He’s here, Harry. He’s found me. He-” I was an utter wreck. I was surprised he could understand what I was saying because it was so hard to structure through my tears. I was terrified. “Who? Who’s there?” He asked quickly. “Tyler. Tyler’s here and he touched me. Please Harry... I can’t...” Something smashed on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear Harry growl his anger. He must have known deep down it couldn’t have been Tyler, but even the mere thought, and my state, it sent him back into an angered, scared condition. What had happened when I’d gone missing had scarred both of us, and we were showing that then. “Harry, please… I need you.” I blubbered. “I’m so scared.” “Tell me where you are.” It almost sounded like a threat he was so inflamed. “Please, Harry, I don’t know what to do-” I whimpered. “ANNA, TELL ME WHERE YOU FUCKING ARE NOW!” Another smash occurred during that sentence, this one sounding more like his fist meeting a wall once more. I cried for a little while longer, taking steady breaths in and out as I tried to control myself and tell him where I was, though I was having a difficult time not just begging him to find me miraculously. “I-I’m outside Brandy Boys and he’s inside Harry. He’s there.” “Stay there, Anna. Please don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can okay? Don’t move. I’ll be there. I’ll find you. I promise.”

I’d say only around twenty minutes passed before he arrived, running around the corner and coming to a sharp stop as soon as he saw me collapsed on the floor. His eyes were wide, his body shaking, and he hardly even seemed relieved to have found me, because I wasn’t in a good way. He seemed heartbroken by the sight. He slowly, cautiously walked over to me, keeping his approach kind, as though he needed to be careful with me. I remained lifeless against the wall, not crying by that point but it was like I was in a state of shock, staring into nothing and completely limp. Harry kneeled ahead of me, checking over me to see that I wasn’t hurt in any way. He was the only thing that could bring me from my state. My eyes lifted and met his. He moved his hand and grabbed the back of my neck, trying to stay calm but I could tell he was struggling. His jaw was tight as he spoke. “Can you stand?” He asked. I couldn’t reply, although my eyes had moved to him it seemed the rest of my body still hadn’t quite found the strength to do so, so I just stared. He seemed to do the math himself. He moved to me, cupping my entire body and lifting me up off the ground and cradling me in his arms. I found the strength to wrap my arms around his neck as he began moving through the street, and it reminded me so much so of the night he had carried me to his bed when I was half asleep over a year before. He carried me to his car and placed me inside in the front seat. I slumped down, still lifeless, so painfully cold. He fastened my seat belt for me, but before he moved round to his side of the vehicle and drove us back to his, he just stared at me for a moment, no life in his tired eyes. “I’m so sorry, Anna.” He said. “About everything. I’m sorry.”

Ignoring my lack of sleep, my body woke me from my light slumber early. Not many words had been shared between myself and Harry the evening before. He drove me back to his house, carried me up to bed, and we collapsed with each other. He said sorry, over and over again, I remembered that. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying sorry for, maybe it was the way he had been with me or maybe it was the experience I had with the boy who looked like Tyler. I wasn’t sure, but he said sorry so many times it was insane. I fell asleep to him pouring out the word like cool calming water over my body, and maybe that’s what helped me sleep. As my eyes opened to the morning, I saw him slumbering next to me, pale and weak looking, clear how the evening previous had affected him. I always found that surreal about Harry, his emotions reflected in the tone of his skin somehow. It wasn’t like mine, I often shone different shades of pink, but Harry’s completely changed. It was like his tan could disappear and reappear without warning, depending on how he felt. I stared at him for a while, just watching his chest rise up and down, glad to be by his side once again even though I still had so many questions I needed answering. And then my phone took me from the moment. I turned on my side, seeing it was on the floor next to my bag, my mind was in too much of a blur from the evening before to add up why everything from my bag was out and all over the floor, I couldn’t add up the events too well, my mind was fucked. I leant down and retrieved it, seeing a text from Rachel. Don’t believe what they’re saying right away babe. Ask him for the truth. Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, baffled by what the meaning of the text could be, but from past experience, the word ‘they’ often nudged towards the world of twitter and the media. I rolled my eyes, wondering what bullshit they could have conjured this time around. So, I checked. I went online and typed in Harry’s name, knowing the latest article would pop up for my viewing. But I wish I hadn’t. Because over the past two days my life seemed to have spiralled into an uncontrollable mess for no reason, and the article I was about to see was not going to help. It was only going to break my heart. The title. Harry Styles caught cheating on Anna Black with beautiful blonde stranger. At first I didn’t really care, knowing it would probably just be another lie, made from pictures that said nothing and meant nothing, because that’s what this bullshit usually was. But as I scrolled through the article, I saw the proof for myself. There were pictures of Harry, stood outside a house with this woman, looking very happy, and then the pictures continued like a short film. The two of them strolling inside together. And then next pictures were of them leaving the house, looking incredibly happy, too happy. The woman stayed indoors, as Harry said goodbye to her with a kiss on the cheek, the change of lighting proving the amount of time they must have stayed in that house. And that was it. I felt sick. My heart was being ripped from my chest. And before he woke up, I just left, not knowing what else to say or do, because my heart had been absolutely shattered. I now knew what Harry was doing when he was ‘busy’ the day before. I knew I hadn’t been mistaken when I heard the sound of a woman in the background. How intense our relationship had become had proven to be too much for him. The changes we had to battle now our romance was public knowledge had driven him to act out, like he always did. It hurt, and it didn’t commute, but at the same time it felt so fucking typical that he would snap and do something to sabotage his own happiness. After so long, so many painful experiences and testing times during our relationship, he had finally snapped. He had cheated on me.

#hoping to finish this next week #EEP #AMG60 #1dff #spy the lil bit of red for this chapter and BE AFRAID

73 notes · View notes